The gentle lover, a comedy of middle age

THE GENTLE LOVER

BY THE SAME WRITER :

THE BRACKNELS,

Cr. 8vo, 6s.

FOLLOWING DARKNESS,

Cr. 8vo, 6s.
EDWARD ARNOLD: LONDON

THE GENTLE LOVER

A COMEDY OF MIDDLE AGE

BY

FORREST REID

i i /

1 Peu de gens savent etre vieux."

— La Rochefoucauld.

LONDON

EDWARD ARNOLD
1913

[All rights reserved]

PR

To MAC

THE GENTLE LOVER

CHAPTER I

AFTER breakfast Allingham, with his painting materials
under his arm, strolled from his hotel in the direction
of the Minnewater. By the Dyver he paused under
the yellowing lime trees, for it had occurred to him
yesterday afternoon that he might make something of
the old gray garden wall, which rose, with its drapery
of creepers, straight from the green, smooth water.
But this morning he found two artists already estab-
lished there with their easles, and as he passed behind
them, and noticed that the canvas of one blazed with
solid purples, blues, and reds, while that of the other
glimmered faintly in low tones of gray, and faded
yellow, Allingham reflected on the subjectivity of all
art. As he himself saw the scene, it resembled neither
of the pictures in course of construction, and this fact
discouraged him from attempting a version of his own.
He was easily discouraged, and much given to reflection.
He supposed that it must be because he was only an

A

2 THE GENTLE LOVER

amateur that his visions of the futility of his craft were
so alarmingly frequent. The green Norfolk jackets,
knickerbockers, the wide soft hats, of the painters
whose work he was surreptitiously studying, suggested
to his innocent mind that they were professionals.
Moreover, the one with the stained jacket seemed re-
markably knowing in the usage of a palette-knife.
Before Allingham's very eyes, he " put in " a canal
with this implement — a canal that resembled, to the
uninitiated, a streak of bright blue putty. Poor Ailing-
ham, in the simplicity of his heart, wondered if the slow,
dark water really appeared to him to be like that ?
He also marvelled a little at the Norfolk jackets and
knickerbockers. It seemed not very obvious why per-
sons dedicated to the pursuit of beauty should be so
indifferent to this quality in the matter of their
personal attire. The aesthetic value of Norfolk suits
could never, he thought, be very great, yet he was sure
there were greens that were less bilious than these,
and he continued on his way in a doubtful frame of
mind, turning down the Rue Sainte Catherine to the
Be"guinage, still seeking, though less eagerly, a subject
for the water-colour drawing with which he purposed
to beguile his morning. Bruges was full of subjects ;
the whole town was nothing else but a museum of
subjects ; nevertheless he found this fact to have little
of the inspiring effect he had hoped for. Somehow,

they seemed to be already so sufficiently there the

charming, time-toned pictures— and any further treat-
ment of them, especially by a bungler like himself,

THE GENTLE LOVER 3

seemed so superfluous and impertinent. Allingham
hesitated and was lost. The whole thing would be too
like copying old masters in a gallery. There was
n ^ thing else to do but copy. Any attempt at selection
would be invidious, any attempt at " technique " would
lead to horrid disasters, perhaps equalling those of the
palette-knife man. The truth of the matter was that
our elderly friend had few illusions concerning his own
powers. The most serious was an idea that possibly
they might improve with practice. Yet, in less
optimistic hours, he was inclined to relinquish even this.
Practice, he then felt, would have been more useful
twenty years ago. All he could do now was to potter
and dabble, to marvel at Claude Monet when he couldn't
admire him, and to imagine himself, every now and
then, to be on the verge of the real thing. He turned
in at the gray stone gateway of the Be*guinage, and
paused to look round, pondering modest dreams of
" fairly decent stun1," yet, characteristically, not eager
to unpack his brushes. Close beside him a red-haired
happy boy was making a pencil drawing of the little
house at the corner, and singing, or rather humming,
as he worked, in delightful obliviousness to the fact
that he was not alone there :

" * Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages ;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages :
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.' "

Both the song and the red-haired boy pleased

4 THE GENTLE LOVER

Benedict Allingham, and pleased him still more when,
at the end of the verse, the singer met his eyes with a
frank smile, light-hearted and merry. There was
something so pleasant in this smile, and in the red
boy's expression, that Allingham at once felt conscious
of liking him, and also of not requiring an introduction.
The boy, of course, was just a part of the bright
September morning, and as friendly and approachable
as the sunlight. Allingham did not hesitate a moment ;
he simply took for granted the truth, however odd,
of his impression ; anything else would have been
wrong and stupid.

" It's not bad, is it ? " he said, with a gesture that
included the old, red-roofed, pointed houses, the tall
elm-trees, the rain-washed golden air.

" No : we like it. At first the others, especially
Aunt Sophy, wanted to go on next morning, but after
a bit they settled down, and now the railway-station
is ever so far away."

He had stopped working, and he stood facing Alling-
ham. Moreover, he had spoken, somehow, exactly
as Allingham had expected him to speak. In his
loose, light flannel suit, with his slender body and
straight limbs, he was the spirit of youth that had
strayed by happy chance into an autumnal garden.
Just as in the big paws of a half-grown dog, so in
his large hands and feet, there was something delight-
fully young, and his gruff, uncertain, bass voice
managed to suggest the childish treble it had been
not long ago

THE GENTLE LOVER 5

" Go on where ? " Allingham questioned eagerly.
" To Brussels ? "

The red boy shook his head. "Not to Brussels.
Aunt Sophy did not like Brussels when she was there
before."

" Certainly it wouldn't do after this," Allingham
admitted.

" I think we'll go straight through to Italy."

" And your holidays ? In my time holidays
used to come to an end in September ; don't they
still ? "

The red boy confessed that they did ; " though mine
are only beginning," he added. " I had a tutor, but
he left yesterday afternoon. He went back to Eng-
land."

" Was it from him you learned Shakespeare ? "

The red boy laughed. " I learned him from a book
of songs I was reading this morning in bed. My room
is at the back, and I get wakened frightfully early by
people coming into the yard and kicking up a row. It
doesn't matter, of course, because we go to bed fright-
fully early too. We're staying at the Halle de Paris,
near the Grande Place, and as there's no gas, nor even
lamps, there's nothing to do when it gets dark but go to
bed. It's really a beer-house, but it's cheap — about a
franc a day/ Aunt Sophy found it."

" I wish Aunt Sophy had found an hotel for me.
Mine seems to be remarkably dear — I don't quite know
why. I expect they must charge for a view of the
belfry."

6 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Oh, well, we're really paying more than a franc.
Five, to be exact."

Allingham looked at the drawing pensively.

" You're staying at the Panier-d'Or, aren't you ? "
the red boy pursued.

41 How did you knpw ? "

44 Your view. It's the best place for you any way ;
you wouldn't think much of ours."

44 1 must come and see."

44 Come and have lunch there. We all sit at a very
long table — priests, artists, soldiers and tourists —
extraordinary people. Nobody speaks English except
us."

44 You are Irish, aren't you ? "

44 1 come from the north. But I was at school in
England for a bit, to improve my accent. It's now
splendid."

At that moment a girl dressed in white muslin, and
carrying a big bunch of dark red roses, wandered in
through the old crumbling gateway, and slowly crossed
the grass behind them. She wore a large white straw hat
trimmed with black, and a black velvet ribbon was tied
in a loose bow round the collar of her dress. She was
very fair, and, as she glanced at him, Allingham saw
that her eyes were gray. Her face expressed an
innocence that was almost that of a child, and her
beauty had an exquisite quality of freshness, the fresh-
ness one associates with certain flowers, with wild roses,
with wood-anemones, with early primroses. Allingham
could not help following her with his eyes, she appeared

THE GENTLE LOVER 7

to him to be so much the pleasantest sight he had seen
since his return.

44 That is my sister," said the red boy, confidingly.
44 My name is Brian Grimshaw, and her name is
Sylvie."

44 My name is Allingham, and I come from the other
side of the earth. Till this spring I had not been in
Europe for twenty-nine years, but when I was young,
I belonged, like you, to the north of Ireland."

Brian glanced at the paint-box. 44 Are you going to
make a sketch ? "

44 1 don't know." His desire to do so had suddenly
left him. It occurred to him that he was very tired of
the company of his own thoughts, and of his disappoint-
ing water-colours.

He watched the girl slowly make a tour of the
Beguinage till she once more drew close to them. He
saw that she was waiting to join her brother, and he was
on the point of moving away when the latter called
to her.

14 Where are mamma and Aunt Sophy ? "

i4 They've gone to see the Memlincks. They said
something about meeting us there."

44 Come and be introduced to Mr. Allingham."

The girl smiled at Allingham, and her colour
deepened. "I was watching an old woman making
lace," she said. 44I wonder if I could learn how to
do it ? "

44 Well, I've finished this," her brother declared,
packing up his drawing, which was not particularly

8 THE GENTLE LOVER

promising. " Would you like to see the Memlincks,
Mr. Allingham — or perhaps you have seen them ? "

44 No ; not yet."

44 Will you come with Sylvie and me ? "

44 1 shall be delighted."

They went out together through the low porch. As
he walked beside them, Allingham was conscious of
their charm. They embodied for him the spirit of
spring, of sunlight ; they seemed to have come to him
in a fairy tale. The contrast they made with the
dreamy autumnal city — or was it with the autumnal
colouring that had crept into his own soul ? — was
delicious. Curiously enough, he had rarely thought of
his age before. There had been no landmarks, nothing
by which to judge of his progress down the stream of
time ; and the years had glided past him so slowly and
monotonously as to leave scarcely an impression of
their passage. Very soon he would be fifty — he was
almost startled by the thought. To the girl beside
him — he guessed her age at eighteen — he would cer-
tainly appear old, a contemporary of her father. It
was only when they reached the door of the Hospital
of Saint John that he realized that he had not
spoken a word since they had left the Beguinage. He
apologized.

41 Sometimes I fall asleep on my feet like that. I
have lived so long in solitary places that even when I
am not by myself it is natural to me to keep quiet."

Allingham spoke, just as he smiled, slowly, but his
voice, which was soft and musical, and his smile, which

THE GENTLE LOVER 9

was melancholy and whimsical, had a distinct attrac-
tiveness. There was in his manner, in his way of saying
things, a somewhat tentative quality, which only very
enthusiastic persons found irritating. To such persons
he appeared over-tolerant, and very likely they as-
cribed his lack of dogmatism to indifference. For if
he made a statement he seldom pressed it home, and
there was that in his voice, in his slightly hesitating
manner, which seemed to imply a consciousness of an
infinite number of points of view there for his inter-
locutor to choose from, any of which was quite as likely
to be right as the one he had himself selected. This,
combined with an absence of small talk, and a failure
to appear amused when he wasn't amused, tended at
times to produce an impression of aloofness and un-
sociability — qualities really quite foreign to his nature.
He was perfectly aware of this impression, and regretted
it, yet was powerless to avoid creating it ; consequently,
when he felt, as at present he felt, that he was under-
stood, he was proportionately pleased.

They passed through the courtyard of the Hospital
to the old chapter-room where the Memlincks hang.
A gray, fussy, little curator, armed with several mag-
nifying glasses, instantly descended upon them, like
a demon of the Arabian Nights, and swept them im-

tpetuously before the " Adoration of the Magi."
" Memlinck's masterpiece. Look close ; you see the
hairs," he hissed ardently, drawing the reluctant atten-
tion of his visitors to the sprouting, three-day beard on
the chin of one of the kings. " The man looking

10 THE GENTLE LOVER

through window is portrait of Memlinck himself
. . . Memlinck — portrait of Memlinck. . . ." He
turned in swift pursuit of Brian, who had made his
escape, and silently gliding a magnifying glass between
him and the head of a weeping Madonna, whispered :
44 Tears ! "

Much was put into that hoarse monosyllable. The
coldness and indifference, the unhallowed levity, the
stealthy or hurried departure without " tipping," of
thousands of mean and ungrateful sightseers, swam up
through it. Whether an artistic or merely mercenary
motive fed the sacred stream, the enthusiasm remained.
He looked round. " Tears ! " he announced again,
this time to Sylvie. Yet almost at the same moment
he was at Allingham's elbow. " Burgomeister's
Daughter." And the magnifying glass passed swiftly
and triumphantly over the transparent head-dress.
"Burgomeister's Daughter — Lace!" The words
sounded this time almost a note of challenge.

The sharp "ping" of the door-bell rang out through
the room, and the curator left Allingham abruptly.
Two ladies appeared on the threshold — one, slight,
insignificant, with fair, faded hair, and pale, prominent,
blue eyes that peered shortsightedly through thick,
rimless glasses ; the other, tall, erect, by no means
slender, striking, handsome, and possibly a shade too
richly dressed, though dressed in black.

" Here's mamma and Aunt Sophy," cried Brian.

The fair, faded lady, in whom the remains of a rather
foolish prettiness still survived dimly, fell an instant

THE GENTLE LOVER 11

and easy prey to the little curator. His energy dom-
inated her ; he thrust one of his magnifying glasses
into her resistless hand ; he led her, almost pushed her
in front of the " Adoration of the Magi " ; and she
listened to him in a sort of fascinated bewilderment,
diligently peering through her glasses and the large
lens to make out those portions of the picture he more
particularly recommended.

" Memlinck's masterpiece. Look close ; you see the
hairs. . . . The man looking through window is por-
trait of Memlinck himself. . . . Memlinck — portrait of
Memlinck ! "

" Mamma, you're monopolizing him," said Brian,
gaily ; " Aunt Sophy can't see."

It was Aunt Sophy who held Allingham's gaze. The
dark, " snapping " eyes ; the boldly-modelled features
and high colour, which together achieved a somewhat
florid result ; the black hair streaked with silver ; the
manner, imperious, assured — to whom could these
belong — to whom in the name of all that was mar-
vellous— if not to Sophy Kilronan ? Yet he hesitated.
It was twenty-nine years since he had last seen her.
The lady with the pince-nez — mamma — Mrs. Grimshaw
— in whom the little curator, with infallible flair, had
recognized a sightseer after his own heart, and to whom
he was now pointing out the tears of the Madonna —
must then be Lucy Kilronan ! Lucy must have
married ! She might, indeed, have been married half-
a-dozen times for all he knew. And he still hesitated,
keeping in the background, but watching with the

12 THE GENTLE LOVER

keenest interest. He wondered if he had changed as
much as Sophy had ? Evidently more, since on her
entrance, she had looked him full in the face without
the least sign of recognition. And of course when she
had seen him last he had been a smooth-cheeked boy.
In America, on Jiis farm, he had got out of the habit of
shaving, and it had not occurred to him to revert to it
on his return to a more sophisticated life. At present
his grizzled beard and moustache probably altered him
even more than any change his features and figure
might have undergone. But he was in no hurry to
bring himself to Sophy's notice ; he took a distinct
pleasure in watching her thus, off her guard, as it were.
Something very characteristic in her manner, as she got
rid immediately of the officious little curator, made
him smile. Then, lest Brian or Sylvie should forestall
his surprise by introducing him, he advanced to where
she still stood before the first picture. He bowed, and
she returned his bow, but distantly, and with an almost
imperceptible hesitation.

Allingham smiled with dark melancholy eyes.
"Don't you remember me, Sophy ? " he asked slowly,
in his half-whimsical way, that had in it just the hint
of a drawl.

4 You're not ' and then she suddenly knew.

" Bennet ! " she almost screamed, between laughter
and recognition. "Lucy, here's Bennet Alling-
ham ! "

Mrs. Grimshaw's glasses fell, and next moment, as
she grabbed at them and put them on crookedly,

THE GENTLE LOVER 13

glittered at him in a kind of startled incredulity while
she came forward.

44 She doesn't believe you," laughed Allingham.
" She demands proof."

41 We knew him," cried the red boy, exciting the
suspicions of the grey, dusty, little curator, who
imagined that the genuineness of one of his works of
art was being called in question.

44 Memlinck's masterpiece," he murmured, offering a
magnifying glass uneasily. Mrs. Grimshaw, indeed,
still clung to one of these instruments, but the others
had abandoned theirs. 44 Look close ; you see the
hairs. All painted by Memlinck."

44 Oh, get away and wash or something," said Brian,
unpolitely.

44 Brian ! " his mother reproved.

44 It's all right ; he doesn't understand — neither the
idea nor the word. . . . Sylvie and I discovered Mr.
Allingham in the B6guinage and brought him round
here as a surprise for you and Aunt Sophy."

44 But how did you know ? " Mrs. Grimshaw won-
dered, and Allingham remembered so well that little
air of constant perplexity.

Meanwhile Miss Kilronan was questioning him.
44 When did you arrive, Bennet ? Why did nobody
know you were coming ? "

44 1 didn't know myself."

44 But have you been home yet ? "

44 In Ireland ? My dear Sophy, as if I should come to
Ireland without coming to see you ! "

14 THE GENTLE LOVER

44 How long have you been over, then ? "

44 Since the spring. ... It really isn't so long as it
sounds," he added, with his low, pleasant laugh.

Miss Kilronan glanced at the gray curator, who still
hovered discontentedly in the background. " Are we
not allowed to talk here ? " she asked. 44 He seems to
be annoyed ! "

" I'll cheer him up," said Brian. " Burgomeister's
Daughter ? Where ? Burgomeister's Daughter ? "

In a second the little man was at his post, his face lit
up with the eagerness of exposition.

44 We can't ask you to lunch with us, Bennet, because,
unfortunately, we have promised to lunch with some
people who motored over from Ghent this morning.
. . . Where are you staying ? "

44 At the Panier-d'Or. . . . Couldn't you all dine
with me to-night ? "

44 Well, there's no use pretending that it would be a
great compliment to ask you to dine with us. Our
hotel is an experiment — not even mentioned by
Baedeker."

He moved by her side slowly round the room, pausing
before each of the pictures in turn, but glancing at them
very superficially. It seemed odd, now, that he and
Sophy had not kept up a more regular correspondence,
and he was inclined to blame his own indolence rather
than hers. It seemed odd, too, that she should not
have married. He found himself, as he talked to her,
dropping back easily into his old tone of camaraderie,
He was glad that she did not ask him any questions

THE GENTLE LOVER

15

about himself, that she appeared to recognize, as he
did, that it was neither the time nor the place.

His eyes turned to Sylvie as she stood examining the
shrine of Saint Ursula, in the middle of the room.
" Your niece is very beautiful," he murmured,
irrelevantly.

Sophy Kilronan smiled. " Beautiful ? I should

ive thought 4 very nice-looking ' a more accurate
description."

44 How old is she ? "

44 Eighteen : the age we were, or, rather, the age
you were, when I last saw you."

He grasped it with difficulty. 44 It seems im-
possible ! And at the time I remember I felt perfectly
grown-up."

Oh, Sylvie is perfectly grown-up. We had a
rather tiresome proof of it only the other day, when
her brother's tutor fell in love with her and proposed.
He was quite a nice boy, too, but of course he had to
go. It is a nuisance, as it has left Brian with a super-
abundance of holidays, and it is impossible to get any-
body here."

44 Why isn't he at school ? "

44 He was until they came abroad. His father allowed
him to come too, for six months or so. After that, he
is to go into the business."

44 Into the business ! Why not send him to
college ? "

44 You haven't got over your old antipathy, Bennet.
He is the only son, you see, and the business is doing

16 THE GENTLE LOVER

very well. . . . Brian is perfectly content with the
arrangement," she added, smiling at Allingham's
dissatisfaction.

They moved on slowly, and presently Allingham's
eyes were again attracted to Sylvie. " She's charm-
ing," he murmured ; for there was for him an exquisite
sweetness in the young girl's face that made the
pictured walls of the museum seem, in comparison,
insipid and uninteresting. " She is like the spirit of
life," he added.

" Yes, she is a nice girl," Miss Kilronan admitted,
not without a hint of surprise at this sudden enthusiasm.
" She hasn't so much in her as Brian, but I fancy you
will like her."

" By the way, couldn't you all dine with me to-
night ? " he suggested, absently.

" Of course we could, dear Bennet. You've already
very kindly asked us. Didn't I accept ? "

He shook himself from his abstraction, and laughed
softly. 4 Yes ; yes. I am getting old and stupid,
Sophy. There is to be a band playing in the Grande
Place especially for you, and we can listen to it from
the balcony, and talk over old times."

" That will be very nice."

Mrs. Grimshaw, who had done the gallery in ten
minutes, but had spent half-an-hour over the picture-
postcards and photographs, now approached, to
remind her sister that it was time for them to go.
1 You must come to see us soon, Mr. Allingham," she
said, holding out her hand.

THE GENTLE LOVER

17

" Bennet has settled that we are to dine with him
to-night — the whole family. It will really be more
satisfactory than his coming to us, for we couldn't
possibly talk in that dreadful sitting-room. The chairs
are as hard as boards, and people are for ever coming
in and out, and leaving the door open."

They moved towards the entrance, under the cold,
indifferent, almost hostile eyes of the little curator,
who, now that he had received his tip and had nothing
further to show, had completely lost interest in the
entire party. Allingham was still at Sophy Kil-
ronan's side, while Mrs. Grimshaw, Sylvie, and Brian,
brought up the rear.

B

CHAPTER II

SOMETIMES Mrs. Allingham had gone to stay with her
uncle and aunt, and very often, until he grew old
enough to be sent to a public school, she had taken
Bennet with her. After that, the boy's visits naturally
became less frequent, though he still spent a part of
each summer with his grand-uncle. Benedict's grand-
uncle, whom he called simply " Grand-uncle," to
distinguish him from those lesser uncles who bore
subsidiary titles — John, George, or Henry — was a
country parson. Attached to the rectory was an un-
usually large glebe, and the small stipend Grand-uncle
received would have been ludicrously insufficient to
keep up the place, had it not been augmented by his
wife's private income. There had been no family, and
in Bennet's time the old people still lived quite alone.
Now and then romantic letters, with strange exotic
stamps, rich in colour and quaint in design, arrived
from scattered nephews, and these stamps were duly
added to Bennet's collection, or exchanged for similar
rarities. Grand-uncle, as he remembered him now,
was a rather faddy old man, with an inexhaustible fund
pf clerical humour, jokes that Benedict sometimes, on

16

THE GENTLE LOVER 19

wet afternoons, looking over back volumes of Punch,
came upon with a flash of recognition, at first perplexed,
but afterwards expectant. For inquiry, unfortunately
public, had revealed the fact that Punch had not got
them from Grand-uncle, so that Grand-uncle, the con-
clusion was piped in a remorseless treble, must have
g'ot them from Punch. This had, somehow, caused his
opinion of Grand-uncle's " funniness " — never, in truth,
particularly exalted — to sink several degrees, and he
presently noted that those who laughed most at
Grand-uncle's antique tales, presented faces of per-
plexing blankness to anything really amusing which
happened to be said.

The house in Ballinderry, where Grand-uncle and
Grand-aunt lived, was low and white and square, with
a humming of bees in the eaves, and on one side a
closed-in rose-garden. Elsewhere, the grounds, sprinkled
with fine old trees, stretched away, smooth and green
and dense, till they became lost in a wilder land that
was left almost to nature. Grand-uncle was a
mysterious thing called a " canon," and spent much
time in a room filled with books. Into this room
Bennet was not allowed to go except by special invita-
tion. Grand-uncle saw very little of his congregation,
towards whom his duty appeared to be fulfilled if he
devoted Saturday to the writing of a sermon for them,
and Sunday morning to the preaching of it. When
people from the parish called, it was Grand-aunt who
received them, and the rest was left to two assistants,
a curate and a scripture-reader, both of whom little,

20 THE GENTLE LOVER

Bennet knew to be inferior persons — something vaguely
described by Grand-aunt, in conversations with mamma,
as " not gentlemen." Grand-uncle, he discovered,
again by direct inquiry, was a gentleman, and so,
amazing and quite unexpected glory, was he, Bennet !
The knowledge filled him with a mysterious pride until
he found that it bore with it certain undesirable
restrictions, one of which was that one wasn't to be
" too familiar with the gardener's boy." With whom
else should one be familiar ? The gardener's boy was
perfectly fascinating, and had taught him how to spit
in the manner of a squirt, a gift which Bennet valued
highly, and which his school companions envied and
assiduously practised. But it appeared he wasn't a
" gentleman," nor was the gardener himself, nor the
coachman, nor any of the farmers — all delightful
people. Alone, he and Grand-uncle possessed this
gloomy distinction. Bennet was eager to renounce his
share in it. The society of the coachman and the
gardener and the gardener's boy was much more con-
genial and amusing than Grand-uncle's. The curate,
too, when you got him by himself, was all right ; and if
he laughed at Grand-uncle's " funniness " when Grand-
uncle was there, at least he was never " funny " on
his own account.

The curate's wife was invited to the house on rare
occasions, but the scripture-reader's wife was never
invited at all. Both Grand-uncle and Grand-aunt were
very religious, especially on Sundays. On Saturday
night all the amusing books were whisked away into a

THE GENTLE LOVER 21

book-case, whose doors were kept locked, and on
Sunday afternoon, when Bennet looked for " Tom
Sawyer," he found only " The Spanish Brothers," or
" Mackay of Uganda." In the mornings they went,
servants and all, to a little church in the village, where
Bennet's mamma, and Grand-aunt, and Bennet him-
self, in his best clothes, with wide short trousers that
did not reach to his knees, neatly-stockinged legs, and
elastic garters that he could never keep from snapping,
in spite of the stern glances of Grand-aunt, sat aristo-
cratically apart from the rustic congregation. Sunday
was the only day on which Grand-uncle wasn't
" funny " ; but, on the other hand, on Sunday you
daren't make a noise until you got well away by your-
self in the big garden or the grounds about it. On this
particular day Grand-uncle and Grand-aunt were very
easily made cross, and moreover, Grand-aunt suffered
from a mysterious ailment called " depression," which
made things unpleasant for everybody all round, until
she retired to her bedroom and locked herself in there,
a quite superfluous precaution. On ordinary days
Grand-uncle was never cross — only once, when Bennet
and mamma had looked vainly through the big telescope
for certain " rings of Saturn," which Grand-uncle
saw quite distinctly, could he remember Grand-uncle
losing his temper. That night — event of terrific
importance ! — Grand-uncle had not come down for
supper.

Grand-uncle was a wonderful carpenter, and had
made a complete croquet-set — all except the hoops.

22 THE GENTLE LOVER

He was very fond of croquet, and excited Bennet's
youthful admiration by using only one hand in playing
that game. He, Bennet, had required to use both
hands, and even then had seldom managed to win.
But he was better than the curate, who never won at
all. Grand-uncle was always at his " funniest " when
playing with the curate, and made the most splendid
jokes all the time. Bennet had once suggested, at
lunch, that he did not think the curate cared for croquet,
but this idea had been pooh-poohed, and indeed the
curate always gratefully accepted Grand-uncle's chal-
lenges, and would patiently hunt for his ball amongst
the bushes where Grand-uncle had knocked it (there
being no boundary rule in those days), and reappear
with a smile on his face. Neither Mrs. Curate, nor the
scripture-reader's wife, was ever asked to play croquet,
on account of their social positions.

Benedict liked staying with Grand-uncle, because the
house in the country was a perpetual delight, with its
huge, old-fashioned gardens, and its outlying grounds
that grew more and more like a wilderness every year. It
had all, somehow, smelt so good — even the sheets of the
bed between which he had slid at night, tired out, and
from which he had sprung in the mornings to lean his
head out of the window and wonder if it was going to be
as fine a day as it had been yesterday, and if he would
be allowed to ride the donkey in the big meadow after
breakfast. For a town-bred boy such pleasures could
come only in holidays ; and when he was at home
Benedict lived in a very uninteresting house indeed.

THE GENTLE LOVER 23

Benedict's father was a timber merchant, and rented
a big, ugly, gardenless house in town, though at the
time when he, the youngest son, was of an age to be
sent to a public school, the business was quite prosperous
enough to have paid for a garden even as large as
Grand-uncle's. The elder brothers were, one an assist-
ant to his father, and the other just beginning practice
as a doctor ; and when Benedict declared he was going
to be an artist, his parents treated the decision much
as they had, a few years back, treated his decision that
he was going to be a tram-conductor and punch little
round holes in blue-and-white tickets, and ride on the
trams all day long free. It was only when he came
home from school, term after term, still clinging to his
idea, that they began to consider it as cause for anxiety.
The drawings that the mother had once praised so
fondly were now looked at with disapproval. The
father had made inquiries, and had gathered that,
though certain popular painters earned quite large
incomes, and were even, some of them, knighted, the
chances of his son becoming a Leighton or a Leader
were too slender to be considered. It was then that the
docile and gentle Benedict developed a disagreeable
quality referred to at home as his " obstinacy." He
refused to discover a taste for any sensible profession,
and it was decreed that, since such was the case, he
must go into his father's business.

Once this determination had been reached, art,
viewed even as a recreation, was frowned upon;
so much so, that the drawing-lessons he had up

24 THE GENTLE LOVER

till then been receiving at school were cut short. It
was only from Sophy Kilronan, nominally a friend of
one of his sisters, whom she secretly disliked, that Bene-
dict received any encouragement. In his holidays he
saw much of Sophy, a high-spirited, vivacious girl,
boldly handsome, with a somewhat brusque manner,
and certainly a temper. A year or so older than him-
self, she had always expressed her belief in him and in
the fine works he was destined to produce. She had
—then, at all events — the kind of nature to which
generous enthusiasms come easily, and doubtless her
affection for this gentle, retiring boy, helped her to
appreciate his talents. Sophy pictured for him a path
of glory, and thus helped him to picture one for him-
self. He was a charming boy, but by temperament
and in spite of the famous " obstinacy," fatally non-
combative and unassertive. Even with Sophy's persist-
ent exhortations, really the secret of the " obstinacy,"
he was powerless against his father's prejudice. He
shrank from rows in a manner shockingly unheroic, so
that, in the end, instead of going to London or Paris to
study art, he entered his father's office, at the age of
sixteen, as an apprentice.

After this he made no further complaints, but his
work bored him and he did not do it well. In response
to his father's endless fault-finding, he began to think
there was nothing he could do well, developing the
vicious idea that he was a singularly useless person.
This unfortunate notion presently became a conviction
which he could not shake from him except at odd hours,

THE GENTLE LOVER 25

and under the immediate influence of the impetuous
Sophy. From his mother he received no more sym-
pathy than from the rest of the family. Her method
of discouragement had been different from his father's ;
she had tried to laugh him mildly and affectionately
out of his " foolishness," which was the name she gave
to his desire to be an artist ; and though Benedict had
sometimes laughed too, his heart had been troubled,
and his intimacy with her, in spite of her kindness in
all other ways, had suffered more than she had ever
guessed. His father had shouted, and Benedict, who
dreaded scenes, oddly enough had been much less hurt
by the shouts than by his mother's gentle and smiling
dismissal of the whole thing as a romantic dream. She
rould ask him, playfully, if he thought he would make
a good artist, and the boy could only mumble that he
didn't know. Thanks to this treatment, he doubted
now whether he would make a good anything ; but
he was quite certain that he would make a bad business

am

:

On Saturday afternoons, if he chanced to go for a walk
with Sophy, he would express this pessimistic convic-
tion, and Sophy would echo it, which was not consoling,
even when she added that she was sure he could become
a great painter, and that his sketches were the best
she had ever seen. But, as one of his sisters pointed
t when he made the remark at home, this meant very
ittle. He was obliged to admit that Sophy's know-
ledge of such matters was slender, and the number
of sketches she had examined few. Still, her sympathy

26 THE GENTLE LOVER

was all he had, and he was very fond of her. She
suited him better than his boy friends, who were far
from recognizing him as a phoenix. He began to paint
an Annunciation for Sophy's birthday. The Madonna
was as " soulful " as a long neck, and large eyes, and a
butterfly mouth, could make her (Benedict being at this
time an ardent admirer of everything pre-Raphaelite),
but though portions of her were good enough, she was,
somehow, all wrong as a whole. The sister, who was
Sophy's friend, said that she looked fifteen feet high,
and the truth of this criticism wrung, in private, some
horrible hours of self-questioning from Benedict and
even a few tears, of which, having now reached the
mature age of sixteen, he was bitterly ashamed. He
scraped out the Madonna, and painted a landscape on
top of her, which Sophy, when she came to receive it,
very much admired. . . .

And meanwhile his father, still obsessed by the
" obstinacy " theory, declared angrily that everything
the boy was given to do at the office was badly and
grudgingly done, and discussed the matter passionately
with Mrs. Allingham after they had retired to rest.
This lady from time to time reproved Benedict for
not giving his mind more to his work. The virtue of
her reproofs was accentuated by the fact that she had
fallen into ill-health, so that Benedict felt miserable
pangs of conscience for troubling her. He was still
very fond of his mother, though less so than he had
been in the past, for he knew now that she had never
understood nor tried to understand him, perhaps had

THE GENTLE LOVER 27

never even dreamed there was anything to understand.
Her health failed rapidly, and a winter passed in a
warmer climate did not succeed in restoring it. She
returned home looking more fragile than ever. It

:came obvious now that the end was only a matter of
3nths, perhaps of weeks.
One Sunday morning when the others were at
church she had a long talk with Benedict, who had
stayed at home with her at her request ; and this
talk had ended in the boy's promising to give up
sketching altogether. He did not tell Sophy of the
promise till after his mother's death, and then, to
his surprise, Sophy was furiously angry with him. He
inted out how impossible it would have been under
,e circumstances not to promise ; how his mother
ad first asked him if he would do something to please
her very much, and when he had said that he would
do anything, had begged him to give up his painting.
Sophy privately considered the request as about the
meanest trick she had ever heard of. Publicly she
declared that such a promise was not binding. Her
failure to convince her friend of this provoked her to
still greater impatience. Benedict was now seventeen,
and should be able to look at things reasonably. She
almost quarrelled with him, and, alas ! even her
faith in his talent was shaken. If he had really been
what she had once thought him, she told herself, he
would not have given in so easily. . . .

The next event in his life was an illness, terminating
in a hemorrhage from the lungs. Coming after his

28 THE GENTLE LOVER

mother's illness and death, the warning was not to
be neglected, and its immediate result was that young
Benedict ceased to be a timber merchant and became a
fruit farmer in America.

Year after year passed, tranquilly, monotonously,
while he made his living, but not his fortune. He
never returned home. Gradually he seemed to lose
touch with everything that home represented. Then
one day came the news of his father's death, and of
the division of the property, which was not nearly
so large as it had been ten, even five, years earlier.
Benedict invested his share in accordance with the
advice of a friend, and continued fruit farming. The
friend's advice turned out to have been excellent, so
excellent that one day it occurred to Benedict that
he was forty-seven years old, and that he had farmed
enough. He recalled the dreams of his boyhood, and
was surprised that an opportunity to realize one of
them did not particularly thrill him. It was too
late ; the colour had faded out of his enthusiasm ;
what remained was but a shadow of the real thing.
Nevertheless he resolved to give himself a chance.
He had no longer any idea of becoming an artist ;
the day for that was over. But he had no ties, and,
despite the lucky investment, no real friends. It
seemed to him that he might just as well spend the
years remaining to him in congenial surroundings ; so
he packed his trunk, and sailed for Europe.

I

CHAPTER III

THESE memories, like a soft cloud of dust, stirred by
his unexpected meeting with Sophy Kilronan, floated
to and fro in Allingham's mind when, in the soundless
afternoon, he had gone out to execute the sketch he
had failed to produce in the morning. Curiously
enough, as it seemed to him, he found himself more
interested in his work than he had been for a long
time, and in the end it was only the fading light that
drove him from it. He packed up his materials and
strolled along the grassy margin of the Lac d'Amour,
under the tall trees. He followed the avenue that
leads straight on to the Porte de Gand, and as he paced
slowly over the damp yellow grass, with its carpet of
dead leaves, he found something in the tone of his
surroundings that reminded him vividly of the walks
he had taken with Sophy years and years ago, by the
banks of the Lagan. It was in the moisture of the
mild soft air, in the gray clouds, in the red and brown
and yellow of the leaves, in the perfect quietude which
seemed to descend out of a windless sky. The carillon,
which had kept him awake during the earlier part of
the night, now sounded far and faint, a dreamy,

30 THE GENTLE LOVER

melancholy music, curiously detached from earthly
life. The rustle of his own footsteps, and now and
then the shrill cry of a frog, were the only sounds he
heard. . . . And the light faded slowly from the red
roofs and gables of the dead town, with its many
spires, its rough dark streets, its canals and bridges,
its way-side shrines. . .

When he reached the beautiful old gateway he
turned homeward, passing through the park, where
knitting mothers watched children at play upon the
grass. Allingham was already looking forward with
pleasure and a mild flutter of excitement to receiving
his guests. There was something boyish about him still.
Possibly his solitary life, but more probably a peculiar
innocence of mind, had kept fresh within him a well of
unspoiled youth. It was like a spring of water in an
autumn landscape ; and it had made his first meeting
with Brian in the Beguinage natural and easy.

As he came back, by the Rue de PAne Aveugle, to
the Grande Place, he passed a shop in whose lighted
windows views of Bruges, photographs and coloured
postcards, were displayed. He glanced through the
open door and saw the red boy and his sister. They
were talking and laughing, and evidently very busy.
Allingham walked on, but gradually his pace slackened,
till at the corner of the deserted street he came to a
standstill. He had a strong impulse to go back to
the shop, but a feeling of shyness kept him from
doing so. It was ridiculous, of course, that one should
be shy at his age ; but he feared that they might lopk

THE GENTLE LOVER 31

upon him as a bore. It was the old, stupid diffidence,
he told himself, which had spoiled so many of his
pleasures in the past. With an effort he shook it from
him and retraced his steps.

They saw him at once. " Here's Mr. Allingham,"
said Brian. " Look ; she's been buying all those moon-
light cards ! Did you ever see anything like them ? "

Sylvie held out a postcard for Allingham to inspect.
" They're very pretty, aren't they, Mr. Allingham ? "

" But you know they're only faked," her brother
persisted. " And, at any rate, you've never seen the
place looking like that, so what's the use of getting
them ? . . . You needn't keep on holding them out
to Mr. Allingham," he added, unkindly ; "he thinks
they're rotten, or he would have said he didn't before
this."

" He doesn't think anything of the kind, do you,
Mr. Allingham ? " Sylvie appealed.

" I ought to make a nocturnal exploration before I
decide," Allingham compromised. " I think we'd all
better go for a tour of inspection to-night. How
would that do ? "

" The band begins at eight," said Brian ; " Sylvie
and I were asking. Most of the cafes have put out
their chairs and taKes already. They've rows and
rows of them just under your hotel windows. Sylvie
and I are going to have something to drink at one
of the cafes."

" That can very easily be managed."

Sylvie coloured, To Allingham there was an adorable

32 THE GENTLE LOVER

attractiveness in her blush, which came so easily, and
he watched her with a faint smile in his dark eyes.
" Don't listen to him, Mr. Allingham : it's only his

nonsense."

"Well of all— ' her brother began. "And it
was you who proposed it ! "

Allingham laughed.

" You know very well I was only making fun," said
Sylvie, tossing her head.

" I know very well you weren't." He took a cigar
from his waistcoat pocket and smelt it appreciatively.
As his glance met Allingham's his left eye rapidly
closed and opened.

" You may put that thing away, at all events, for
mamma won't let you smoke it."

" Somebody must smoke it : it's too good to be
wasted."

" We went to buy a box of matches," Sylvie ex-
plained, scornfully, " and the girl in the shop offered
Brian some cigars. He bought one because he didn't
like to tell her that he wasn't allowed to smoke. . . .
It cost five centimes."

" This swanking comes very expensive," said the
red boy, putting the cigar back in his pocket.

Allingham laughed again. He liked Brian, and as
he watched and listened to him now he reflected fan-
tastically that it would be very pleasant to have a
boy of one's own. It occurred to him that there
were a good many things in life he had missed — too
many ; almost everything,

THE GENTLE LOVER 38

44 1 see you have been buying Tauchnitzes, Miss
Sylvie," he remarked. " May I look ? . . . Doctor
Claudius : I remember reading it a long time ago.
It's a nice book."

44 Don't you like Marion Crawford ? " said Sylvie,
eagerly. " There's something about his books I love.
Do you think they're really great, Mr. Allingham ?
I mean, in the same way as Dickens and Thackeray ? "

*44 Are you fond of Dickens and Thackeray ? "
44 Oh, yes " a little doubtfully.
44 She's like Dan Leno : she never gets tired of
reading them, because she never begins."

44 1 do begin," said Sylvie. 44 1 like The Only Way.
I think Martin Harvey's lovely."

44 The Only Way ? "

44 It's by Dickens. It's very sad. I cried all the
time, at the end. ... So did everybody."

44 1 didn't," said her brother, promptly.

44 You didn't understand it, perhaps, "Sylvie suggested.

44 Oh, didn't I ? It's full of self-sacrifice, Mr.
Allingham. You know the kind of stuff : a chap
frightfully wild, and all that, but full of noble senti-
ments. He goes about longing to die for somebody.
. . . 4 I-am-going-to-do-a-better-thing-than-I-have-ever-
done,' ' he imitated. 44 And then the limelight's
turned on, and all the women begin sniffing. Sylvie
and I were at a matinee, and the pit was like the pool
in Alice in Wonderland."

44 Don't listen to him, Mr. Allingham. This is all
put on to show off before you."

34 THE GENTLE LOVER

" If I wanted to cry I'd wait till I got home to do it,
anyway. But women love that sort of thing. They go
prepared for it beforehand. . . . Mamma did," he as-
serted indignantly, seeing Sylvie on the point of denying
this. "When she went the second time she took two hand-
kerchiefs— one for dry ing her glasses and one to cry into."

" It's too bad, Miss Sylvie," Allingham sympathized.

" Please don't think I mind what he says," Sylvie
replied, disdainfully. Then, with a rapid change of
manner : " Do you know, I've just remembered Aunt
Sophy has a photograph of you in her bedroom at
home . . . taken when you were quite young. I've
often seen it, and one day I asked her who it was ;
but I had forgotten about it till this moment."

" I'm afraid it must be out of date," Allingham
murmured. " I believe it is the only ' professional '
photograph I ever had taken."

" When you were laughing a minute ago you looked
just like it."

" I can't have been more than seventeen," Allingham
recalled. " I remember I got it done for a Christmas-box
for my mother. My sisters always said it was flattering. ' '

" I'm sure it wasn't. I can see the likeness quite
well. It is in your eyes : they are just the same." .
*****

On his way back to his hotel Allingham noticed a
barber's shop, and through the window he caught a
glimpse of a man inside being shaved. He looked at
his watch, and stood for a moment reflecting. Then
he pushed open the glass door and entered.

CHAPTER IV

As he awaited his|guests Allingham felt half amused,
but at the same time a little self-conscious. He
certainly had not imagined that it could make such a
difference. He had noticed the surprise of the hotel
servants : the hall porter had even failed to recognize
him. He strolled across the room, taking up a position
near the window, as if interested in what was going on
in the square, where the cafes were already ablaze, but
in reality studying his own image in one of the tall
mirrors. The face that looked out from this polished
glass was olive-complexioned, oval in shape, rather
lean, and rather melancholy, with dark eyes and thin,
mobile eyebrows — one of those faces which have little
beauty in youth, but which gain, with the passing of
years, a fineness, a delicacy, that is really the expression
of the spirit within. He had already examined this
countenance with some particularity while dressing
for dinner, but neither then nor at present had the
scrutiny been prompted by vanity. He was simply
curious ; and with the sense that his guests would
very soon be noting all the changes that he was noting
now his feeling of self -consciousness was increased.

35

86 THE GENTLE LOVER

It reminded him of an occasion in the remote past,
when he had come down one Sunday morning to face
the humorous criticism of many brothers and sisters
in his first suit with long trousers. He recalled
perfectly his ridiculous embarrassment on that day (it
could scarcely have been greater had he been doomed
to appear with no trousers at all), and a smile flickered
across his dark, lean face. Then he saw the red boy
in the square, and went out to the hall to meet him.

Brian, hatless, looking like one of the burning
Seraphim of Milton, his flaming hair tossed, his eyes
bright, at all events recognised him, did not appear
even conscious of the alteration that had taken place.
" The others will be here in a minute," he said.

" That's only his good manners," thought Ailing-
ham, pleased by the boy's tact.

But meanwhile Brian was talking : "I came on
alone, because mamma wanted me to go to the post-
office. Of course it was shut. . . . Sylvie sent you
these." He held out a bunch of red roses that looked
like the very bunch she had been carrying when
Allingham had first seen her. " Shall I put them hi
water for you ? . . . " He turned to a waiter :
" Will you bring me something to hold these flowers,
please."

" But you shouldn't have brought them, you know,"
Allinghani demurred vaguely. " It's too bad."

" Oh, it's all right," the boy answered lightly.
14 Why shouldn't you have them as well as anybody
else ? . . . Here they come."

THE GENTLE LOVER 37

He disappeared with his roses into the dining-room,
while Allingham turned round to welcome the ladies
of his party.

" My dear Bennet," cried Miss Kilronan, gaily,
" this is indeed a return to civilization ! " She ex-
hibited none of her nephew's delicacy as she studied
her old friend with a calmly critical eye. " I wish I
could take ten years off my age so easily ! "

" It was Miss Sylvie who suggested it," Allingham
answered, meekly.

The girl blushed. " I was talking about his photo-
graph— -the one you have, Aunt Sophy."

" I hope I come nearer to it now," Allingham said,
turning to her with a smile.

" Doesn't he, Aunt Sophy ? I think he's hardly
changed at all."

4 You're both rather personal, you know," Alling-
ham laughed. " Aren't they, Mrs. Grimshaw ? All
the same I feel younger. It must be an example of the
influence of matter over mind."

" It was very good of you to send me those flowers,
Miss Sylvie," he added, as they made their way to
their table in the window of the dining-room.

Brian had already put his finishing touches to the
bowl of red roses, and he stood, in his light flannel suit,
watching them cross the room.

" Did you post my letter ? " Mrs. Grimshaw asked
at once.

" I couldn't ; the post-office was shut. I told you
it would be."

38 THE GENTLE LOVER

" If it's only a question of stamps, I'm sure the hall
porter here has plenty," Allingham suggested.

"It's not that, thank you, Mr. Allingham. The
letter has to be weighed ; I don't know how much
it will be. ... Give it back to me, dear ; I don't
want you to carry it about in your pocket for
weeks."

" I'll post it in the morning," Brian promised.

" I'd rather you gave it back to me now."

44 Is it anything very important ? " Miss Kilronan
inquired.

"It is important that it should be posted soon. If
it doesn't catch Mrs. Leslie in Brussels she mayn't get
it at all."

" Mrs. Leslie ! " cried Sylvie in astonishment, while
her brother reluctantly produced the letter from his
pocket, but kept it on the table beside him.

" It's a handkerchief of hers," Mrs. Grimshaw ex-
plained. " I found it this morning among Brian's
things, but I'm sure I don't know how it got there."

Brian had turned scarlet, and he bent his head over
his soup.

44 It is a lace handkerchief," his mother went on, 44 or
I shouldn't have bothered about it. I can't think how
it got into Brian's possession. I was just putting away
some of his things that had come from the wash when
I discovered it." She continued to express surprise
at this peculiar accident till Sylvie changed the subject.
44 Mr. Allingham is going to take us all to look at
Bruges by moonlight. We want to see if it is like the

THE GENTLE LOVER 39

post-cards I bought to-day. If it isn't, I'll make them
take them back at the shop."

" I fancy Mr. Allirigham is quite content with seeing
Bruges by daylight," Miss Kilronan said quietly.
44 You and Brian can tell us all about it."

44 But he wants to come," Sylvie pouted. " I don't
mean that we're going to start immediately after dinner.
We'll stay with you and mamma and listen to the band
as long as you like. It is after that we're going."

Miss Kilronan raised her eyebrows as she exchanged
a glance with her sister, who looked doubtfully at
Sylvie, but said nothing.

44 They're beginning now," Brian cried, half rising
from his chair to look out.

44 Sit down, dear ; you must behave properly."
Nevertheless, Mrs. Grimshaw herself peered out into
the square, as well as she could, through her glasses.
A crowd was already gathered there, surrounding the
band-stand, about which a group of soldiers lounged,
smoking.

44 1 met the conductor this afternoon," Sylvie said.
44 He wears glasses just like mamma's. It looks idiotic
with a uniform."

At that moment the soldiers threw away their cigars,
and the lights glittered on the brass and silver of in-
struments as they were drawn from their covers.

44 There's the conductor now ! " cried Brian.

They could see him look all round after he had taken
up his position. Then he waved his baton, and the
music swung out into the night.

40 THE GENTLE LOVER

" What is it ? I seem to know it," Mrs. Grimshaw
murmured, nodding her head in a not quite successful
attempt to keep time with the tune.

" Mamma knows all the latest airs," Brian laughed.

"Is it new, dear ? I'm sure I've heard it before
somewhere."

" It's that wretched old Zuider Zee," exclaimed
Sylvie. " We never hear anything else."

" Well, I don't profess to be musical," Mrs. Grim-
shaw sighed.

" One may be musical without being a detective,
mamma. It sounds to me distinctly like 4 op ' some-
thing or other."

Mrs. Grimshaw let his remark pass, as she let a good
many others — especially of her son's — without com-
ment. To Allingham a sort of placid vagueness
seemed to be this lady's chief mental characteristic.
He remembered it of old, but it appeared to have in-
creased, and often, now, lent a sufficiently cryptic
quality to her own conversation.

After dinner they sat out on the balcony, and the
band deserted the Zuider Zee for less popular airs, while
Allingham and Miss Kilronan, with an occasional
interjection from Mrs. Grimshaw, threw a frail bridge
of memories and explanations across the gulf separating
the past from the present. But, whether it was the
presence of the others that hampered them, or only
that they had waited too long to begin, they seemed
to have less to build their bridge with than might have
been expected, and, after a little, the conversation

THE GENTLE LOVER 41

languished. Still they sat on, though each remark
was now followed by a silence, till at last the two
elder ladies discovered that the air was getting
chilly, and they all strolled back together to the other
hotel.

" I wonder where Brian has gone to ? " Mrs. Grim-
shaw asked, suddenly missing him.

" I expect he's still listening to the band," Sylvie
replied. " It's really quite early ; isn't it, Mr. Ailing-
ham ? "

Allingham looked at his watch. " Twenty minutes
to ten."

44 Then we've lots of time for our walk. There is the
moon, too ; we must go now."

44 It's too late, dear," Mrs. Grimshaw interposed,
doubtfully.

44 But it's only twenty to ten, mamma ! "

44 Mr. Allingham, I'm sure, has done quite enough
walking to-day."

44 Have you, Mr. Allingham ? "

44 Not at all. I shall be delighted. What do you
say, Sophy ? We can drive, you know, as soon as you
begin to feel tired ? "

44 Oh, Tm not coming, thanks. I shall write a letter,
and then go to bed."

44 Mayn't I go, mamma ? " Sylvie begged.

Mrs. Grimshaw hesitated, and Allingham said :
44 We shan't be very long."

" Well, if Mr. Allingham is sure he doesn't mind.
. , . And remember, if you see Brian, to tell him to

42 THE GENTLE LOVER

come home at once," she added. " And if you feel
it cold, turn back."

Sylvie was radiant. " All right ! . . . Now, Mr.
Allingham, I'm ready. We mustn't lose any more
time."

CHAPTER V

WHAT made you suggest driving to Aunt Sophy ? "
Sylvie asked, as soon as they were alone. " I don't
want to drive. It wouldn't be a bit the same. . . .
I hope Brian didn't go away to smoke that cigar,
because I'm sure it' will make him very ill. . . . Don't
walk so quickly, Mr. Allingham. I must look at every-
thing. I don't believe you really want to come."

44 You overrate my unselfishness," said Allingham,
in his slow, pleasant voice.

44 You mean, I impose upon it, I'm afraid. ... It
was a pity mamma began talking about Mrs. Leslie's
handkerchief at dinner to-night. I tried to stop her.
Did you ever notice how impossible it is to stop people
from saying something you don't want them to say ?
If it is anything you want them to say, the least thing
puts them off."

44 Why were those particular remarks unfortunate ? "
Allingham drawled.

44 Brian didn't like them. I expect he has been
keeping the handkerchief as a memento. And then, to
have mamma send it to the wash and return it was so
extremely unromantic ! "

43

44 THE GENTLE LOVER

" It hasn't been returned yet ; he still has the
letter."

" Did mamma not take it ? "

" No. . . . Who is Mrs. Leslie, if you don't think
me very inquisitive ? "

He paused to light his pipe, and Sylvie watched his
dark, fine face, as it was lit up by the flare of a match.
" She's only a person we met in Holland. I really
know nothing about her except that she's a widow,
and quite young, and supposed to be pretty. I didn't
admire her, but other people did. She was travelling
with a Mrs. Gregg, a queer, lugubrious kind of creature,
who, when she got you alone, used to talk about her
late husband all the time. It was really rather dread-
ful, but one had either to be rude or to listen. And
Mrs. Leslie was worse. She was for ever joining on to
us and trying to be agreeable. Mamma, of course,
seemed to like her, but mamma likes everybody. And
Brian liked her. She flattered him in the most bare-
faced way. I thought it perfectly disgusting, for she
wouldn't have taken any notice of him if there had been
anybody older there — any man, I mean. She treated
him as if he were grown-up, and you know he
isn't a bit that kind of boy. She used to ask him
to take her to places, and appeal to him for his
opinion about things. She made him look perfectly
ridiculous, though he didn't know it, poor child, and
mamma didn't know it. Aunt Sophy, unfortunately,
wasn't there."

" Do you think such things really matter ? "

THE GENTLE LOVER 45

Allingham asked. " Boys so often pass through a
sentimental phase in connection with an older lady."

" It's rather silly, that is all. I daresay I shouldn't
have minded if he hadn't been my own brother. But
Brian isn't naturally like that. I mean, it was all her
doing ; he just did what she asked him to do." She
paused, doubtfully. " Perhaps I shouldn't be talking
to you in this way ; but your having known mamma
and Aunt Sophy for so long makes you seem like one of
our family."

" Of course it does," said Allingham, smiling.

In spite of Sylvie's moon, which floated high and
bright in the wide black sky, the narrow streets through
which they passed were very dark, lit only at the corners
by flickering lamps. Presently the tower of Saint
Sauveur, stretching up, huge and gaunt, into the night,
loomed before them. In one of the recesses of the wall,
railed off by iron railings, was a life-sized, painted
statue of Christ after the scourging, naked, with
drawn white face and pale blood-streaked body. Lit
from above by a small, hanging lantern, it looked, in its
crude realism, ghastly and strange. Completely hidden
in its niche till they were within a few feet of it, the
feeble light lent it, as they came upon it suddenly and
unexpectedly, a gruesome air of life that was for a
moment disconcerting.

" It is horrid, isn't it ? " said Sylvie, quickly.
" Don't let us look at it."

She hurried on, but at the corner of the Place de la
Vigne they came upon another coloured image, though

46 THE GENTLE LOVER

this time it was only a statuette of Mary and the Child
Jesus, set in the hollow of the wall. The moonlight
touched it with a cold pallor, but the little votive lamp
had gone out. The scene, the atmosphere, were oddly
at variance with their conversation, and Allingham
felt this when he murmured :

" We are still in the middle ages here."
"It is the darkness that makes it all so strange."
They slackened their pace.

" Do you know that there is a sorcerer living in
Bruges ? "

Sylvie glanced at him. " What do you mean ? "
" Oh, I am perfectly serious," Allingham laughed.
" There was an American talking about him last night ;
telling a young English clergyman who sits at my table
that he ought to go to see him."

" I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Allingham."
" He doesn't call himself a sorcerer, of course, but
he would certainly have been burned for one at the
time these protective images were put up at the street
corners."

" But what is he ? What does he do ? "
" He invokes spirits," said Allingham. " Don't you
know that for fifty cents you can hold long conversa-
tions with Plato, or Shakespeare, or George Washington,
or Cyrus P. Higgins ? He is what is called a medium.
The American who was talking about him is a spiritual-
ist. I ought to introduce you to him, because he is
going on to Italy from here, like you — to Milan, and
then to Florence, where he has a scientific friend with

THE GENTLE LOVER 47

whom he is going to hold experiments. The friend lives
at Fiesole, and the medium is to come and give sittings
to them there. Oh, we heard wonderful tales ! "

" But do you believe in that sort of thing ? " Sylvie
questioned eagerly.

Allingham smiled. " The American says I have no
right to say whether I believe in it or not. I am not
4 inquirer,' Miss Sylvie."

Sylvie was disappointed. " Then you are not going
to see this person. . . . What is his name ? "

" Flamel is his name, and I am going to see him.'*

44 But if you don't want to ; I mean if you aren't
even curious ? " she wondered.

" Well, I more or less promised this young fellow at
the hotel to go with him. He was very much

ithralled, and he seemed a decent sort of youth."
I'd simply love to go," Sylvie sighed. "But I'm
Aunt Sophy wouldn't let mamma allow me to."
Do you know, these unconscious tributes to your
Lunt Sophy's good sense are very striking ! I had
several from your brother this morning. ... I don't
think you'll miss much by not going," he added.
44 Mediums, as a rule, are rather second-rate indi-
viduals."

44 You will tell me everything that happens, all the
same, won't you ? " Sylvie begged.

44 1 can tell you now," Allingham replied. 44 There
will be a dark seance — flying tambourines, ghostly
hands, and perhaps what we referred to last night as
a 4 materialization.' "

48 THE GENTLE LOVER

44 Why don't you let the young Englishmen go by
himself, then ? "

44 I'm sure I don't know. The risk wouldn't be very
great."

44 The risk ? "

44 Well, there always is a risk, you see."

44 In what way ? "

" The medium might have some practice in hypnotis-
ing, and if he saw a good opportunity might be tempted
to play tricks with it. ... I would let him go with the
American, but the American is leaving Bruges
to-morrow."

They had come, by the Lac d' Amour, as far as the
old round brick tower, once a part of the ramparts,
and in the moonlight, as they stood on the iron bridge
and looked out across town and country, they seemed,
like the man in Hans Andersen's tale, to have found
a mysterious way back into the fifteenth century. The
beauty of the young girl's face, its expression of inno-
cence and simplicity, was refined by the cold pure
light in which he now saw it to a loveliness that was
almost wholly spiritual. The silver-gray willows swept
the water. A bat flew out, hovering over the lake,
and now and then the peculiar, shrill cry of a frog broke
the silence. They were on the verge of an enchanted
city, where all the inhabitants had been asleep for
hundreds of years.

" If one could believe in spirits existing anywhere,
it would be here," said Allingham. 44 Don't you
think so, Miss Sylvie ? "

:

THE GENTLE LOVER 49

" But I do believe in spirits," said Sylvie. " Whether
they can be called back to earth or not is a quite
different matter. And because things seem to be
impossible, it doesn't follow that they mayn't be true."

" That, at all events, is unanswerable," Allingham
chuckled mildly. ' c You are like Saint Louis, Miss Sylvie,
who, when he was asked to come to look at a miracle
at that moment taking place in his own chapel, refused
to do so. Christ, he was told, had become visible in
the Host. But Saint Louis said, 4 1 have always
believed in the " real presence " because I have not
seen it. If I saw it I should no longer be able to
believe in it.} The point is, to me, a little obscure, but
Mr. Halvard, from whom I heard the tale, considered
it eminently satisfactory, and I have no doubt you
will do the same."

" Who is Mr. Halvard ? Is he your young English-
man ? "

" Yes. He works in the east end of London. He
told me he had worked there ever since his ordination,

ceremony which I suspect to have taken place
rather recently."

Sylvie was silent a moment. " What is he like ? "
she then asked. " He must be rather remarkable,
don't you think ? "

"He's remarkably young," Allingham laughed.

I haven't seen enough of him to discover more than
that."

They had turned homeward, following the same
path by the lake side.

D

50 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Where does the medium live ? " Sylvie next
inquired.

" On the Quai de la Potterie. You can go and look
at his house to-morrow, with Brian, and see if you can
discover anything strange about it. I can't give you
the number, but I should think you would easily
recognise it."

" You make fun of everything, Mr. Allingham ; but
I will go. ... And remember you promised to tell
me all about the seance."

" Supposing I am sworn to secrecy ; what am I to
do then ? "

" I know what that means : you're trying to get out
of it already. You'll go, and then you won't tell me a
thing. It's like papa and his freemason secrets."

" But if everybody went on your principle there
would be no secrets left," Allingham expostulated.
" Romance would disappear from life."

" I'm not going to talk to you any more, Mr. Alling-
ham. You know what I expect of you."

He didn't know in the least, but he went home with
a strange lightness of heart. It was as if something
had come into his life that had given it an unexpected,
an undreamed-of zest. He seemed to have taken a
draught from the fountain of youth, a draught of that
wonderful elixir, which perhaps had been concocted
generations ago in one of these dark old houses of
this dark old town. . . . Youth — youth — everything
was in that ! It was the unspoiled, the untried ! It
was romance ! It was the dazzling, glittering mirage

THE GENTLE LOVER

51

it beckoned and called irresistibly. It awakened
ige melodies that sang in a low passionate under-
>ne — coming from far away, out of the past, out of the
iture. It blew on dying fires and fanned their ashes
flame. It filled the day with brightness, and the
night with dreams.

CHAPTER VI

SYLVIE, on going upstairs, saw a light in Miss Kil-
ronan's room, and went in. It was not her custom to
pay confidential visits of this kind to Aunt Sophy,
whom she now found reading in bed by the light of
three tall candles, but to-night she wanted to talk to
somebody, and it was Aunt Sophy, after all, who knew
most about him.

" These are Brian's splendid idea," Miss Kilronan
remarked, alluding to the sources of the unexpected
brilliancy of her apartment. " He came in with a
bundle of them. He has stuck them up all round his
own room, each standing in a pool of grease, as it
seems there are no candlesticks."

Sylvie, without removing her out-of-door things,
sat down in a straw chair beside Aunt Sophy's bed.
" Did I stay out too late ? " she asked. " It's eleven.
There's that silly old carillon just going to begin."
She began to sing the tune with the bells.

44 Don't you think it makes enough noise by itself ? "
Miss Kilronan suggested. 4t You'd better go and take
off your things. You ought to be tired after tramping
about all day." She returned to her book, with an

THE GENTLE LOVER 58

unflattering appearance of finding it of more interest
than her niece.

" We had a perfectly delightful walk," Sylvie said,

discouraged, " and I'm not a bit tired. This place

simply lovely at night. It's like a dream. I don't

bit want to go on to Italy."

Miss Kilronan continued reading, but her lips

voluntarily formed the question, " Where did you

to ? "

Sylvie gazed absently at the back of her aunt*
book. " Romola" she read aloud. " I hate George
Eliot. . . . We went everywhere."

" So I gathered. ... I thought it was to be only
a ten minutes' walk ! "

4 You're reading that, I suppose, because we're

ing to Florence ? "

I'm glad to see you know what it's about."
I don't ; but I remember painting the pictures in
old Cornhill. They were full of monks and friars
and agitated heroines."

Please do stop creaking that chair," Miss Kilronan
interrupted, for Sylvie was swaying backward and

fDrward, and the straw chair squeaked a hoarse
ccompaniment to each movement.
44 It is about monks, isn't it, Aunt Sophy ? "
44 It is about Savonarola."
44 Who was Savonarola ? "
44 Really, Sylvie ! . . . One would think you had
never been educated ! If you would try to improve
your mind a little, instead of rushing round playing

54 THE GENTLE LOVER

golf and tennis all day long, it would be a good thing."

" But I do read," Sylvie pouted.

" You read a lot of trash that would be much better
at the back of the fire."

" Why ? What harm does it do ? "

" It fills your head with nonsense. The other day
I saw you with a penny novelette ! "

" Aunt Sophy, you never "

" Her Only Love, or some such name."

Sylvie laughed. " It wasn't mine at all ; it was
mamma's. And, anyway, it was quite nice, and cost
threepence. . . . Fancy, Aunt Sophy, Mr. Allingham
says there's a magician in Bruges ! "

Miss Kilronan seemed singularly unimpressed. " Was
that all he could find to talk about ? "

" No ; but this is a real one — a medium, or whatever
it is. Mr. Allingham's going to see him. . . . Why
did you never mention Mr. Allingham, Aunt Sophy ? "

" Mention him ? "

" I mean — when you knew him so well. One would
think you would have talked about him some-
times."

" My dear child, you seem to have come home in a
very peculiar frame of mind, even for you. He was
only a boy when I knew him ; not much older than
Brian."

" Don't you think he has melancholy eyes ? . .
Weren't you surprised when you saw him without his
beard ? It makes such a difference, doesn't it ? Do
you like him, Aunt Sophy ? "

the

"!

THE GENTLE LOVER 55

Miss Kilronan had not replied to any of these
questions, and Sylvie, apparently, had scarcely ex-
her to do so, for she went on without a pause :
4 He has a beautiful voice, hasn't he ? I think he's just
ctly like somebody you would read about in a
>k — one of Marion Crawford's books. They're not
trash. ... I wonder why he never got married ? "

44 1 suppose because he didn't want to." It occurred
to her, and somehow the reflection was not displeasing,
that Allingham must have been rather bored by her

ce.

Do you think it's too late now ? He's not so very
old, is he ? "

Miss Kilronan sighed. " Forty-seven."

44 1 suppose it is too late, then. I don't think
he looks forty-seven, do you ? He must be very
lonely."

44 Why ? "

Again her question had been involuntary, for she
knew that her niece needed only the slightest encourage-
ment to keep on chattering till midnight.

44 Well, I don't see how he can help feeling lonely,
living that way, all by himself. He looks lonely, too.
When you knew him before, was he at all like what he
is now ? "

44 Very probably."

This reply was intended to be discouraging, but Aunt
Sophy could not help spoiling its effect by adding
directly afterwards, in a pensive voice, 44 I'm afraid he
hasn't been successful."

56 THE GENTLE LOVER

Sylvie took her up eagerly. " Why ? In what way
has he not been successful ? "

" Oh, I don't know. Don't ask so many questions.
. . . There ! I'm perfectly certain I heard a mosquito !
You must have let it in when you opened the door, for
they can't get through the screen over the window. I
knew you would. Now, I suppose, I'll be kept awake
half the night ! Really, Sylvie— - ! "

" I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Sophy. I'll see if I can't
catch it before I go."

" Aren't you going now ? "

" In a minute. I just want to ask you one thing.
When you say he hasn't been successful, do you mean
that he hasn't made a fortune ? "

" I have no idea what he has made," answered Miss
Kilronan. "People like Bennet Allingham don't
make fortunes."

" Do you think that's against them ? "
" I don't think anything about it. I've got some-
thing else to do. There's nothing against Mr. Allingham,
and never was, except that he is too good-natured."
" Too good-natured ? "

" About getting his own way. He lets anyone who
wants to, take advantage of him."

Sylvie pondered this. "Don't you think there is
something very attractive about a character like that? "
she asked, softly.

14 There's something distinctly irritating about it.
However, it's a fault you're not likely to drop into.
. . . You needn't begin to form romantic ideas about

THE GENTLE LOVER 57

Mr. Allingham. He is simply a middle-aged person
who, on the whole, has lived a rather useless life."

44 Aunt Sophy, how can you talk like that, when you
know nothing about his life ? " cried Sylvie, indignantly.

Miss Kilronan's lips drew into a rather grim smile,
but she answered nothing.

Sylvie was silent, too, till she suddenly declared,
" I think he is like a man who was once very much in
love with somebody. But it was impossible for
them to get married, so he has never got married at
all."

Miss Kilronan glanced quickly at her niece, and, for
the first time within Sylvie's experience, she actually
blushed. Then she said sharply, " You're really too
foolish and sentimental for anything, Sylvie ! One
would think you were still fifteen ! I suppose this is
the result of spending an hour with him in the moon-
light."

Her manner of resuming Romola was emphatic
enough to make her niece rise slowly to her feet.
41 Good-night, Aunt Sophy," she murmured dreamily.

44 Good-night ; and don't bang your door. Your
mother has been in bed for an hour."

But in her own room Sylvie stood by the window,
looking out over the pointed, moonlit roofs for a long
time. Aunt Sophy was very odd and 44 snappy,"
she reflected. It was useful with hotel-keepers and
railway-porters, but it had its disadvantages at other
times. Aunt Sophy didn't understand people like
Mr. Allingham. She decided that she was going to

58 THE GENTLE LOVER

be very " nice " to Mr. Allingham. He had already
told her that he was going on to Paris next week, or
they might have suggested his coming to Italy with
them. She wondered if it would do to make such a
suggestion. Of course, it ought to come from Aunt
Sophy, but, unless Aunt Sophy thought of it herself,
she wouldn't make it. It was funny hearing her call
him Bennet. . . And then, his shaving — that had
been rather nice of him ! . . . She laughed a little
as she leaned her forehead against the window. ...
Her thoughts wandered for a moment to the unfortunate
young man, Brian's tutor, who had fallen in love with
her. At the time she had not cared much about him,
one way or the other ; and he had been dreadfully
plain, with weak eyes. Sylvie couldn't imagine a
successful lover with weak eyes. . . . She remem-
bered him trying to play tennis, and how absurd he
had looked, but she felt a certain tenderness towards
him now. She pictured him as remaining a bachelor
all his life, like Mr. Allingham. If one were really in
love, and the other person didn't care, wasn't that
what one naturally would do ? And she saw her lover
grown old in patient loyalty, as old as Mr. Allingham ;
and somehow his pale, weak eyes had become dark,
melancholy, and romantic, and his slightly " squeaky "
voice had grown low and musical, and he spoke with a
little drawl, and with a slow smile that came and
went when one didn't expect it— a smile that was very
kind and very pleasant.

CHAPTER VII

ALLINGHAM slept soundly, and awoke with a drowsy
feeling that something delightful had happened yester-
day. For a few minutes he lay sleepily collecting his
thoughts and planning how he could spend his morn-
ing. It was still early when he came downstairs, but
he found Mr. Halvard, the young clergyman, already
seated at one of the tables. The waiter pulled out
a chair at the same table, and Allingham took it,

[uiescing in the proposed coffee. He said good-
morning to Mr. Halvard, who seemed very young, with

almost girlish freshness of complexion, and soft fair
hair that waved over his forehead. He looked,
Allingham thought, like one of the youthful saints

o might be figured in a window of his own church.
Tiere else could one find such guilelessness ? And
when he spoke his voice perfectly bore out this im-
pression. It was so mild, so soft, yet withal so already
ecclesiastical ! Allingham amused himself by recog-
nizing in it a distinctly high-church note, ritualistic,
with a faint yearning after the older faith. He had
been out, probably, at early mass, and was just returned.
Allingham would have liked to be in a position to say

59

60 THE GENTLE LOVER

whether it was the manner of Oxford or of Cambridge
that distinguished this young man, but in any case it
was full of sweetness and light. And behind him, as
he sat there, with his fair hair like a halo, rose a vision
of beautiful old buildings, of college courts and gardens,
of rectory lawns and cathedral closes, all mellow and
golden and remote from ugly modern things, a clois-
tered world, lying within the common work-a-day world,
like a pearl within the shell of an oyster. Yet he by
no means suggested effeminacy. There was, in those
delicately chiselled features, and in the eyes that had
the strange cold blue of ice, an almost steel-like quality,
something very fine but very strong.

These fantastic musings were scattered by the
rather high-pitched voice of the young clergyman, who
spoke with a clear cultured intonation which Ailing-
ham could admire as a work of art, though the tenor
quality of his voice was not agreeable to him.

" I had no idea Bruges was so delightful," Mr.
Halvard said. " I am so glad I did not miss it ; yet
my coming here was quite a matter of chance."

His manner was slightly shy in its friendly con-
ventionality, and a little smile played constantly upon
his beautifully-formed mouth.

" I like it myself," Allingham admitted cautiously.
'There's something gloriously unsanitary about
the canals that appeals to my sense of the pictur-
esque."

" Perhaps I am enthusiastic because I have never
been abroad before," Mr. Halvard pursued, "but I

THE GENTLE LOVER 61

love the dear, quaint old houses. I have been trying
to think what it is that makes the whole place so
charming."

" I should say the charm of Bruges was largely
soporific. It is soothing. I arrived when it was
raining, on the grayest of gray days, and I was
soothed at once. Many people find it dull. The
unsanitariness of the canals leaves them coldly sus-
picious, and they go about sniffing for smells."

Mr. Halvard smiled remotely, and his smile, though
entirely friendly, yet managed to convey to Allingham
that the phrase " sniffing for smells " was faintly
vulgar. " I have been thinking of our visit to Flamel,"
Mr. Halvard murmured — "that is, if you really
care to come with me. We might, perhaps, go
to-day."

Allingham helped himself to a second cup of coffee.
44 Of course you want to go ?" he surmised.

14 Well — eh — I think one oughtn't to miss a chance
of this kind. . . . Even if there isn't anything in it,
you know, it — it helps to increase one's experience.
And a clergyman can't have too wide a knowledge of
life ; he ought to see how much there really is in such
things."

44 1 expect Flamel is only a quack," returned Alling-
ham, lightly. 44 1 mean by that, that I don't think
you'd be doing the subject justice if you were to take
your idea of its value from the performances of such a
person. . . . However, I'll go if you like," he added,
immediately.

62 THE GENTLE LOVER

" I should like to, very much, but of course I don't

wish Perhaps I shouldn't have suggested it ;

perhaps you would prefer not to come ? "

" Oh, I don't expect it will do me much harm,"
Allingham laughed. " And it was I myself who
suggested it in the first instance, I think."

" But shouldn't one have a certain amount of

faith before I mean, isn't it necessary for the

manifestations ? "

" I don't know, I'm sure. I understood that the
faith was to follow. If you have it already, it hardly
seems necessary that there should be any manifestations.
But we'll have faith. We'll go armed at all points."

Mr. Halvard did not appear to be in sympathy with
this way of regarding the matter, but he was too
polite to pursue the subject further. " The carillon
here is very noted, is it not ? " he asked, as the
admonitory sounds heralding an approaching per-
formance from that indefatigable chime floated out
upon the air.

" I expect so," Allingham replied.

" It may be a long time before I find leisure to
travel again, and I am anxious not to miss anything
that is really noted."

"I'm afraid you couldn't miss the carillon, even if it
wasn't," said Allingham. " But there are a couple of
gnomes up in the tower who will show you everything."

" They are there to look after the bells, I suppose ? "

" That's what they do now ; but they used to be
in one of Grimm's tales. I don't know how they ever

THE GENTLE LOVER 63

got out, and now they are out I don't know how they'll
get back again."

Mr. Halvard allowed a slight pause to follow this
remark, then he said : "I should think one could see
everything here in two days ? I have only six weeks
holidays, and I am anxious to see Switzerland and Italy."

" I should leave Switzerland out, if I were you,
[t's not the proper time of year."

" I'm afraid I can't afford to be too particular about
times of year," the young clergyman dimly smiled.
" What hour would you think of for our visit ? " he
pursued, as Allingham, having finished his coffee, was
getting up from the table.

After dinner. It would hardly be giving him a

mce, would it, to go in broad daylight ? "

Again he noticed, with amusement, how Mr. Halvard
>verlooked his lack of seriousness.

We shall probably meet before then," the young
lergyman said.

''Very likely. You'll see me at one of the street
>rners, struggling with a masterpiece."

" A masterpiece ? "

" In water-colour."

" Oh, you are an artist ! I didn't know."

" Merely a dabbler. I don't take my painting very
jriously, and certainly nobody else does. . . . Well,

revoir. Don't let the gnomes tempt you to fairyland. "

He went out, leaving Mr. Halvard to the friendly
and more congenial suggestions of the romantic and
optimistic Baedeker.

CHAPTER VIII

COMING out of one of the curiosity shops at the comer
of the Quai du Rosaire, and already beginning to
regret the too hasty purchase of an old bronze crucifix,
which was probably not old, and at the best would be
a nuisance, adding to the weight of his luggage,
Allingham encountered Brian and Sylvie. The girl
was caressing a large black-and-white, rough-haired
dog, who stood harnessed to a small milk-cart, his
red tongue hanging out like a flag, and his sides
heaving like bellows.

" Isn't it a shame to treat them like this ? " she
cried, as Allingham approached. " Just look at the
lovely old darling ! I'm sure he's never been patted
before. Look how he's wagging his tail ! "

The dog was indeed agitating this expressive
appendage with an astonishing vigour, while a
half-grown lad, his master, stood looking on, grinning
sheepishly.

" But you know you can't keep them standing there
all day," Brian was expostulating. " They've got the
milk to deliver."

" It's wicked to make a dog drag a great, heavy

64

j

I

THE GENTLE LOVER 65

cart," Sylvie continued. " Just see how he's panting !
. . . Ask the boy where he lives, Brian."

44 What for ? "

44 Because I want to know."

" Oii demeurez-vous ? " said Brian to the boy.
" You can't have had any idea I was so polyglot,
Mr. Allingham ! "
None whatever."

My French is too pure for this chap, at any rate.
. Ou est votre maison ? " But the boy still kept
silence, though he had grasped that he was being
addressed.

" Dans quelle rue demeure ce gros chien-ci ? "

At this point the woman who had sold Allingham
his crucifix appeared. She began to talk in guttural
accents to the milk-boy, who responded in the same
tones.

44 Rue de la Vigne," she said, smilingly, to Sylvie.
4 A little shop ; quite small."

44 Oh, thanks very much. Would you mind asking
im if he is going back there now ? "

44 Now, at once ; yes, he returns."

4i Please tell him that I am coming with him. I
ant to buy the dog."

' The dogue ! Ah, they will not sell him. He is

good dogue, with great strength." But she told the

y, who gazed at Sylvie, grinning more than ever.
With a sudden and unexpected cry he started the
animal off, the cart rattling vigorously over the rough
paving-stones.

E

66 THE GENTLE LOVER

Sylvie and her companions followed on the footpath.
Every few minutes the boy looked round.

" You're not really going to buy him ? " said Brian.
44 They'll only laugh at you."

" Let them laugh."

" I'm afraid if you did buy him, Miss Sylvie, it
would simply mean that they would get another,"
Allingham reminded her.

" Well, even if they do, that poor old thing has
worked enough."

" He's not old," her brother contradicted. " He's
quite a young dog."

But they were obliged now to increase their pace in
order to keep the cart in view, for the boy seemed
suddenly desirous of shaking them off.

44 I don't think we need go any further," said Brian,
dissuasively.

" What would you do with him, suppose you got
him ? " Allingham asked.

" If they let me have him it won't be hard to manage
about the rest. . . . Remember, you're to help to look
after him, Brian."

" I might do that in return for a small weekly wage.
Aunt Sophy, however, is the one who will be keenest."

44 But, you know, you'll find him a fearful nuisance
when you're travelling," Allingham felt it his duty to
put in. 44 He'll be a great deal worse than my bronze
crucifix." And he tapped this regretted purchase
feelingly.

Sylvie gave him a glance of disappointment. 44 Mr.

THE GENTLE LOVER 67

Allingham, I'm surprised at you ! I didn't know
you would let yourself be prevented from doing a
thing simply because there were a few difficulties in
the way ! "

u It's not Mr. Allingham who's going to have the
difficulties," murmured Brian. " It's your poor little
brother. . . . There's the shop," he added, for the
milk-cart had stopped before a small house at the
corner of the street. " Not much of a place ! "

" Wait here," Sylvie commanded.

" Won't you allow me to do the bargaining for
you ? " Allingham asked.

" No, thanks," she returned severely ; " I'd rather
do it myself. And I don't want you to come with me,"
she added hastily.

" She doesn't want us to know how much she's going
to give for him," said Brian. But Sylvie had already
left them, and they watched her hurry on down the
street and enter the shop.

44 1 expect she'll not find it so easy as she imagines,"
Allingham murmured. " They'll probably not even
understand what it is she wants."

" Oh, they'll understand her all right. Very likely
somebody speaks English — it seems to be a kind of
place where you can get tea. At any rate the boy
knows. But there'll be the mischief of a row when
she brings him home. I really don't see much sense
in it myself."

In a minute or two Sylvie reappeared, followed by
a man, two women, and the boy, all talking at the

68 THE GENTLE LOVER

same time, in intense excitement. They crowded
about the dog, criticising him passionately in incom-
prehensible tongues. Sylvie looked back at Allingham
and her brother, as they stood, like the prudent
disciples, watching from a distance. She smiled.
Her face was flushed, and she seemed to be waiting for
the storm to subside. Then suddenly they all, Sylvie
included, retired into the shop again.

" It's getting quite exciting," said the red boy.

" I'm afraid it won't be much use," said Allingham.

The red boy, his hands in his pockets, looked on
smiling. " Oh, she'll get him," he declared, confi-
dently. " The only thing is that she'll have to pay
too much. . . . Les riches Anglais, you know ; and
unfortunately we're only pauvre Irlandais, and I'll
have to go halves. . . . Here they come again ! I
wonder why foreigners can never do anything quietly !
You'd think they were going to have a free fight for
the beast ! "

" But don't you think we ought to "

" No ; stay here ; it's all right ; we'd better not
join in now. . . . What did I tell you ? They're
going to unharness him ! "

Sylvie looked back at her companions, a smile of
triumph on her face, while the milk-boy fumbled with
the straps that bound the animal to the cart. He
then attached a cord to his collar, and next moment
Sylvie came toward them, leading the dog, while his
former owners, with several neighbours, who had
joined the group, and to whom the matter was at

THE GENTLE LOVER 69

present being explained, stood in the middle of the
road and watched her progress.

" Let's hurry," she cried, as she came up with them.

" Run away," said the red boy, ferociously, to three
or four ragged urchins who were escorting her.

But as they turned the corner of the street they
relaxed their pace, and the girl began to laugh. " Now,
Mr. Allingham, you see I did get him after all ! "

I congratulate you," Allingham returned, dubi-
ously.

Poor old dear ! The first thing is to take that
lorrid muzzle off." She stooped down and unfastened
the muzzle, while the dog wagged his tail gently.

Look ! he's licking my hand ! Did you ever see
such an old pet ? "

He gave it exactly one lick," said Brian, dis-

issionately, " and even with that he seems to think
acted too impulsively." For the dog had turned
iis back to Sylvie, and, sitting down, had begun to
5 view the situation.

" What's his name ? " Allingham inquired.

" His name is Graf."

" Here, Graf ! Graf ! " cried Brian, and the dog
jain wagged his tail, but without getting up. " He

lows who his master is ! "

." Does he ? That's just like you ! The next thing
rou'll say is that you took all the trouble."

" The trouble hasn't begun yet," said Brian, darkly.

Graf was persuaded to walk on, but his reluctance

jreased as he drew farther and farther from his old

70 THE GENTLE LOVER

home, and his tendency to sit down and gaze question-
ingly at his new friends, and even to pull in the opposite
direction, became more pronounced.

" Here's a shop where we can get a proper lead for
him." And Brian disappeared inside, returning with
a long leather leash.

" He looks more respectable now," he said, as the
leash was exchanged for the cord. " What he needs is
a bath. Let's take him back to the hotel and wash
him."

But a few minutes later, on entering the Grande
Place, they came face to face with Mrs. Grimshaw and
Miss Kilronan. Allingham felt suddenly as if he had
been caught red-handed in some school -boy's " scrape,"
and wondered if his cigar lent him a sufficient air of
detachment.

The two ladies stopped in astonishment.

44 What have you got there ? " cried Miss Kilronan,
in piercing tones.

44 This is Graf, Aunt Sophy," Sylvie replied. " I've
just bought him, and he's coming home to be washed."

44 Sylvie, you're surely joking ? " Mrs. Grimshaw
murmured, incredulously.

But Miss Kilronan had grasped the seriousness of
the situation. 44 What do you mean ? " she asked.

14 1 mean what I say, Aunt Sophy. He's my dog.
I bought him a quarter of an hour ago. Didn't I,
Grafums ? "

44 Our dog," corrected Brian. 44 Fine animal ; and
we got him dirt cheap." He glanced at Allingham,

i

THE GENTLE LOVER 73

who had an idea that he was expected to back liance
up, but found himself, under Sophy's stem gaze,
utterly incapable of doing so.

"Cheap!" echoed Miss Kilronan. "You don't
really mean to say, Sylvie, that you've actually bought
that dog ? "

" Yes. Why not ? "

Mrs. Grimshaw looked helplessly at her sister, as if
begging her not to be too severe.

" And might I ask what you are going to do with
him ? " Miss Kilronan went on, with ominous calmness(
'' You needn't think that they'll allow you to keep
him at any hotel. You had better take him back at
once to whoever you got him from."

" Whomever, Aunt Sophy," Brian ventured.

" Don't be impertinent, Brian."

But a little flush had come into Sylvie's cheeks,
though she still smiled. " I think I can look after him
all right, Aunt Sophy. We'll not let him trouble you
in any way."

" Perhaps " began Mrs. Grimshaw, timidly.

" Nonsense, Lucy ! You can't possibly allow them
to keep it. Sylvie is quite old enough to know better.
If she hasn't any sense now she never will have any."

" Graf, come and make friends with your Aunt
Sophy," ordered Brian. "Look, Aunt Sophy, he's
wagging his tail at you ! He did, really ; I saw it
move quite distinctly, didn't you, Mr. Allingham ? "
But Graf only responded with a deep, hollow bark.

Miss Kilronan turned to her sister. " The dog

THE GENTLE LOVER
72

must be sent back immediately, Lucy. Brian can
take it. ... The whole thing is perfectly outrageous.
As if we could go about with a mongrel like that.
Were you with them, Bennet, when they bought it ? "
she suddenly demanded, turning her glance upon
Allingham.

" Of course he was," said Brian. " It's my impres-
sion that the original suggestion came from Mr. Alling-
ham. He had a lot to do with dogs in America, you
know. The very moment he saw Graf he said :
* There's an animal that shouldn't be missed.' Sylvie
and I would never have dreamed of getting him on
our own account. We know nothing about dogs.
What breed did you say he was, Mr. Allingham ? "

" A Bruges -hound, I think," said Allingham, quietly.

" Hold your tongue, Brian," Miss Kilronan snapped.
4 You'd better decide at once, Lucy, what you're
going to do."

But Mrs. Grimshaw hated to decide anything at
once. Even where the far future alone was concerned
she found it difficult. Allingham saw the red boy's
bright, mischievous eyes fixed upon him, and he could
not resist softly pinching his ear. " If I were you,
Sophy," he murmured, pacifically, " I should leave the
responsibility with these young people. Let them
take the trouble to find a lodging for their dog, and
if he gets them into difficulties that's their look-out.
It will be an excellent chance for Master Brian to
show what he is capable of."

" Well, I suppose we'd better think it over," Mrs.

THE GENTLE LOVER 73

Grimshaw murmured tentatively, with another glance
at Aunt Sophy, which, unfortunately, failed to mollify
that lady.

44 If you are going to indulge all Syivie's and Brian's
whims, Lucy, it would save a good deal of time and
trouble to say so honestly, and have done with
it. This is the moment to decide. The dog must
either be taken back to its owner now or not at
all."

44 But I don't know who the owner is," Mrs. Grim-
shaw feebly protested.

Her sister had merely silent scorn for such pusil-
lanimity.

41 That's right, mamma," laughed Brian. 44 Mamma
feels a sympathy for Graf. So does everybody except
you, Aunt Sophy ; and you're only disguising yours.
From one fancier to another, Mr. Allingham, don't
you think that in Graf we have really a fine dog ? "

44 1 expect he's quite a good dog," said Allingham,
guardedly.

44 Wait till you see him after his bath, Aunt Sophy."

44 How much did you pay for him ? " Miss Kilronan
next asked, turning abruptly to Sylvie.

The girl blushed, but she answered calmly : 44 Six
pounds."

44 Six pounds for that creature ! "

Mrs. Grimshaw looked a little blank ; so even, for
a moment, did Brian, though he immediately recovered
f. 44That is three each," he said quickly.
44 You can't get Bruges-hounds for nothing, Aunt

a mon
himsel

74 THE GENTLE LOVER

Sophy, and there's no use pretending you can ; is
there, Graf ? "

" I thought you were saving up your money to buy
a camera," Miss Kilronan reminded him.

" That was before I had seen Graf."

The camera had evidently been forgotten by Sylvie,
and she looked distressed. " I had only two pounds
with me. The man is to call for the rest," she mur-
mured.

Miss Kilronan gave an icy smile. " Well, Lucy, as
you seem to be going to allow them to keep the dog, we
need hardly stand here discussing it for the rest of the
morning."

44 My dear Sophy, one would think I had had some-
thing to do with it," her sister returned, querulously.

" You're forgetting that I have a third share in
him," Allingham declared.

But on this point at least Mrs. Grimshaw was firm.
" Nonsense, Mr. Allingham. If the children like to
squander their money it is their own affair."

" Mr. Allingham was only joking," said Brian,
quietly. " Well, I think I'd better go on and get this
old chap washed and into his best clothes."

" Remember, dear, we are having lunch early," his
mother warned him, as he led Graf away. " The train
goes at a quarter-past one."

Brian looked back. " I suppose Mr. Allingham will
be coming too ? "

44 I'm sure I don't know whether he'd care to. We
are going to Ghent, Mr. Allingham, to see that ceje-

THE GENTLE LOVER 75

brated picture — you know the one — the something or
other, by Memlinck."

" Van Eyck's ' Adoration of the Lamb,' " Miss
Kilronan corrected, crossly.

" That's what I said, Sophy. Perhaps you would
lunch with us, Mr. Allingham, and come too. There's
a train back which will bring us home in time for
dinner."

" I shall be delighted," Allingham declared.

" Where are you going to now, mamma ? " Sylvie
asked.

" We were going to see the arrival of the new cur6.
They told us at the hotel that there would be quite a
procession to bring him in, and that we shouldn't
miss it. ... I forgot to tell Brian. I'm sure he
would like to come."

" We'd better go and fetch him," Sylvie suggested.
" He can wash Graf afterwards."

She and her mother turned in pursuit of the boy,
leaving Allingham with Miss Kilronan. There was a
moment's pause before Sophy said, with a curious
change from her former severity of manner : "I
don't think we need wait for them : it's evidently
nearly the time." She had caught sight of a young
clergyman hurrying across the square, a pair of
opera glasses, in a shining black leather case, swing-
ing from his shoulder, and a Baedeker in his hand.
He bowed as he passed them, and Allingham
returned his salute.

" Who is he ? " Miss Kilronan inquired,

76 THE GENTLE LOVER

" A young parson called Halvard. He is staying at
the Panier d'Or."

Sophy Kilronan still followed him with her eyes.
" He is very handsome," she decided.

44 A beautiful youth," Allingham admitted.

" Does that mean that you dislike him or only that
you don't admire him ? "

Allingham laughed. " My dear Sophy, it means
simply what it says. He is a beautiful youth, isn't
he?"

" I rather like that ascetic, spiritual type."

" What is there particularly spiritual about him ? "

" I think everything."

" Well, I daresay he fasts once a week."

Meanwhile they were following, at a more leisurely
pace, the path Mr. Halvard had taken.

" Do you mind telling me, Bennet, why you allowed
them to buy that miserable mongrel ? "

" I can't see on what grounds I could have inter-
fered, since I don't particularly recollect that they
consulted me."

" One surely doesn't wait to be consulted by chil-
dren."

" Do you call Miss Sylvie a child ? "

" She behaves like one."

14 To me she appears to be an extremely dignified
young lady/'

44 No, Bennet ; I'm really serious about this. It
isn't a joke at all. It will be most inconvenient, and
lead to endless trouble when we are travelling or

THE GENTLE LOVER 77

looking for rooms. . . . And I'm sure it was Sylvie's
idea."

44 1 don't think it was an idea that one need be
ashamed of. I'm rather a hardened person, and yet I
must say I don't like to see these unfortunate beasts
dragging carts about."

" That's all nonsense. You know perfectly well
that buying a dog in this way won't do the slightest
good. It was simply a fad on Sylvie's part. The
one who was, and who always is, generous, is
Brian."

" Yes, he's a fine little chap. I like him immensely."

" Try not to spoil him, then."

" Why should I spoil him ? " He was silent till he
presently asked, " Should you consider it spoiling if
I-^eh "

" I know what you're going to say, and I should
consider it spoiling — very much so. What is more,
to do him justice, I don't believe he'd like it himself."

" Well, I had a vague notion that perhaps he
mightn't. . . . My taste, you see, Sophy, isn't yet
altogether vile."

" It's not as if this were the only thing of the sort,"
Miss Kilronan pursued, returning to her grievance.
" Sylvie would sometimes try the patience of an angel ;
she's so obstinate."

Allingham glanced at his companion as if expecting
to find her amused by her own remark, but she wasn't.
" I think you're a little severe with them, you know,
Sophy," he ventured. " If you recollect, you and

78 THE GENTLE LOVER

I, at their age, weren't always on the side of the
authorities."

" That may be, but we had some common sense."

" You had. I don't know that I ever possessed a
great deal, even then."

44 You were the most docile boy I ever came across."

" But wasn't that just what you used to find fault
with me for being ? "

" Well, Bennet, I won't argue with you. You know
very well that what I say is true."

They were walking down the Rue des Pierres to-
wards Saint Sauveur. The street was already full
of people, and arches and festoons of paper flowers hung
across the road from house to house. People were
standing in windows and on balconies, and the sound
of a brass band came faintly on the wind, mingled
with the solemn tolling of the cathedral bell. Miss
Kilronan, bold, handsome, and holding her head
high, was condescendingly interested, as she moved
among this crowd of humble persons.

" Doesn't it seem ridiculous to make all this fuss
about the arrival of an extra priest ? " she exclaimed.
" Here, child, look where you are going to, and don't
rush into people like that ! " A small ragged urchin
drew back, staring at her out of wide black eyes.

" Let us wait here," said Allingham, amused. They
had reached a door-step, which just at that moment
happened to be vacated by its occupants. " Here
come the others," he added, as he caught a glimpse
of Mrs. Grimshaw being borne along through the

THE GENTLE LOVER 79

crowd by Sylvie and Brian, like a helpless sailing ship
in the tow of two rival tugs.

"Here's Aunt Sophy and Mr. Allingham," they
heard Brian call out.

" Well, I'm sure they must think a great deal of
their clergy," panted Mrs. Grimshaw, as she was
steered triumphantly into the harbour of the door-
step, " or else they have got hold of a particular trea-
sure this time." She wiped and fixed her pince-nez,
which had been knocked awry in the crowd.

" They're coming ! " Brian cried.

The music had grown rapidly louder, and the band
now came into sight, followed by a number of men
carrying banners. Then a crowd of children appeared
(all the children of Bruges, it seemed), walking four
and five abreast, and each carrying a small flag in
his right hand. Many of the boys represented Saint
John the Baptist, wearing flesh-coloured tights, with
skins, like rabbit-skins, round their loins and across
their shoulders. Lithe, brown-skinned, faun-like, each
bore a slender cross, and after them followed two boys
in long robes, with wreaths of golden wire, and stars
in their hair, impersonating the young Jesus. These
latter were attended by angels, little girls, painfully
conscious of white muslin frocks and wings of some
soft fleecy substance, like cotton-wool. The angels
waved banners of artificial flowers, and the boys, bold,
already half corrupt with a precocious knowledge
of life, slid their dark, liquid eyes over the faces of the
admiring crowd. The procession became more strictly

80 THE GENTLE LOVER

ecclesiastical. Incense boys, in red and white robes,
waved their censers, while other boys carried lighted
candles that burned with a faint and sickly flame in
the bright sunshine. An image of the Virgin Mary
was borne past, shoulder high, and immediately after
the image marched the priests, two by two, some very
old, barely able to hobble along, others quite young ;
and last of all came the new cure" himself, fat, bald,
with little shifty eyes, loose, thick mouth, and an almost
simian absence of forehead.

" He's awfully rotten-looking," Brian murmured,
disgustedly. " You could understand them having
a procession in the town he's just left ! "

" You shouldn't judge by appearances, dear," his
mother reminded him. " He may be a very good
man though he is a Roman Catholic."

" It's not because he's a Roman Catholic that I'm
objecting to him," Brian growled. " However, I hope
his looks belie him."

In a few minutes the music ceased, and the pro-
cession, followed by as many of the populace as could
squeeze in, passed through the high doors of the
cathedral, while Allingham, Miss Kilronan, and the
Grimshaws, turned down a side street, and took a
circuitous route back to the Grande Place. They found
it deserted, for already the crowd had dispersed,
almost miraculously, and the town had resumed its
normal aspect, like a sleeper who has been momentarily
disturbed by a cry, only to settle down into a deeper
repose.

CHAPTER IX

STROLLING back to the hotel in the evening dusk,
having bidden good bye to the Grimshaws, Allingham,
with a quick flash of regret, recollected his promise to
Mr. Halvard. In the hall he made an inquiry of the
porter, who informed him that the young clergyman
had returned an hour ago, thus removing the extremely
forlorn hope that Mr. Halvard might have gone on
some excursion which would have prevented him from
eeping his engagement. Allingham went upstairs
to his own room.

When the gong sounded for dinner he had again
brgotten Mr. Halvard. He lingered before his window,
oking out across the empty square, from which rose
.e clack, clack, of a woman's sabots, as she passed
eath him, a basket of linen on her head. He
hought of Ghent and of Sylvie. The memory of the
til's charm seemed to linger with him, like a faint and
eet perfume there in the darkness. He felt a little
tied, pleasantly tired ; and the notes of the carillon
sounded dreamy and delightful. That the girl should
appear to find some attractiveness about him, to be

Kiappy in his society, was very pleasant, And that
"

82 THE GENTLE LOVER

she did like him, he had now no doubt, Part of her
charm lay in her frankness and simplicity, in an absence
of all " manner," or polite insincerity. He had an
idea that he should always be able to read her likings
and dislikings. There was something in her character,
a kind of delicate naivete", that was exactly the spiritual
reflection of the bright dawn of her beauty. She was
like a rose in an old-fashioned garden, a rose with the
fresh coolness of dew upon it, that one finds, suddenly,
unexpectedly, in the early morning, where last night
there had been only green leaves and a few unfolded
buds. Her colouring, the clear red and white of her
complexion, seemed to make his comparison extremely
apt. A milk-maid in one of Isaac Walton's meadows
might have looked a little like her, but only a little,
for in Sylvie the milk-maid's beauty was refined and
softened, delicate as the velvet petal of the rose he had
first compared her to. ...

There came a tap at his door — a waiter, dead perhaps
to all romance, but alive to the fact that dinner had
begun ten minutes ago. Yes — yes — he was just
coming. ..." She is charming," he said to himself,
as he obediently followed the thoughtful waiter down-
stairs. uAnd the boy, too," he added. "They are
both charming. ..."

•

CHAPTER X

" I'M afraid I'm rather late," he said, as he sat down
opposite Mr. Halvard. " However, they haven't
waited for me, I see."

Mr. Halvard looked up. " I — eh — thought of wait-
ing," he murmured.

Allingham laughed. " That was kind of you. . . .
I wonder where they've put my flowers ? "

" The roses ? . . . ' Mr. Halvard glanced round
at the other tables. " I don't see them."

"It is rather nice having roses to look at, when
outside it is chill September. . . . But I remember
now : they are up in my bedroom. . . . What have
you been doing with yourself all day ? "

" I went to see the modern picture gallery this
afternoon."

Rather a dismal collection, isn't it ? I believe
ven one of my works might brighten it up."

I'm not a very competent judge of pictures, but
they did not appear to be good."

Allingham smiled. He did not know why Mr.
Halvard's manner should so amuse him, but it had this
effect. " I see you've finished," he remarked. " Please

83

84 THE GENTLE LOVER

don't wait for me. It's particularly uninteresting
watching other people eat, and I'm accustomed to
solitary repasts."

" Oh, I've nothing to do," Mr. Halvard declared.

His beautiful face, in the shaded light, had an
extraordinary youthfulness, but he must really be,
Allingham reflected, several years older than he looked.
The fact that he was the son of a brewer, that he should
be connected in any way with Halvard's Ale — a
beverage so splendidly vulgar in its grossly advertised
popularity — seemed unkind, almost cynical, and Ailing-
ham was sure Mr. Halvard never partook of it. Then
suddenly he saw that what had been puzzling him ever
since their first meeting was a really remarkable
resemblance the young man bore to Mantegna's Saint
George in the Accademia at Venice.

" You still think of paying a visit to your mysterious
friend ? " he asked.

" Certainly . . . That is, if you would care to," Mr.
Halvard added. " I don't want to take you if "

" Oh, I shall be delighted, though such things aren't
really at all in my line."

Mr. Halvard was extremely serious. " But don't
you think we should investigate them before — before
dismissing them ? "

" I don't know that we should," Allingham said.

" But "

" I'm sure you'll think me narrow-minded and
unenterprising when I tell you that I've never had
the faintest inclination to converse with spirits, even

THE GENTLE LOVER 85

of the most superior kind. Intellectually they deter-
iorate so remarkably in their new world. Whether
it is the too joyous life they lead there, or the other
spooks they associate with, I can't say : but, you know,
the sort of stuff that Tennyson and the rest communi-
cate through mediums ! — well, if they've nothing better
to tell us than that ! "

Mr. Halvard was all eagerness. " But surely — if
it were proved, I mean — the importance is extraordin-
ary, inestimable ! It would be the death-blow to
materialism."

Allingham considered this, while his dark eyes rested
half quizzically on the young man's earnest face. In
the strange, ice-blue eyes he seemed to read an intensity
of feeling that perplexed him. " I can't see just what
you'll get out of it ? " he said, at last.

" I was not thinking of myself, but of the people
who reject everything that is not scientifically proved
to them."

" They must be rather annoying," Allingham
admitted.

The face of the young idealist clouded for a moment.
' You don't take me seriously, Mr. Allingham, but
I am serious in this."

Allingham stretched across the table and laid a
conciliating hand on his arm. " My dear young man,
do not be offended. I take you perfectly seriously."

Mr. Halvard sank into a reverie, and his
friend, under the guidance of the pale, melancholy
waiter, persevered through the somewhat tedious

86 THE GENTLE LOVER

courses of a dinner that had lost its freshness. The
red nose of the attendant, he presently observed, was
not the result of intemperance, but simply of a cold
in his head ; and the depressing sniffs to the accompani-
ment of which he conscientiously handed dishes and
removed plates, at length induced Allingham to re-
commend him a remedy for this ailment. Taking ad-
vantage of Mr. Halvard's absorption, he entered into
a highly characteristic discussion on the profession of
waiting in general, its prospects, its emoluments,
the number of hours a day one had to work.

As soon as he had finished, he and Mr. Halvard went
out, walking leisurely through badly-lit streets and by
dark, silent canals, to give Allingham time to smoke
his cigar. Mr. Halvard, he now learned, never smoked,
and Allingham had an idea that he was rather excited.

" This is the house," the young man suddenly said,
when they had proceeded for some time along the Quai
de la Potterie. He had paused before an iron railing,
beyond which lay a small, bare garden. At the end
of a straight walk, a house rose, dusky and dim,
offering a perfectly blank face to the night.

44 It hardly looks as if they expected us," Allingham
observed. " You made it quite clear that you were
coming to-night, of course ? "

" Oh, yes ; perfectly clear. Probably they only
use the back rooms. These houses are very large."

14 Well, we'll have a try."

They walked up the narrow cinder path, and Ailing-
ham gave a sturdy tug at the bell, which echoed

THE GENTLE LOVER 87

most dismally, as though through empty rooms and
passages. They waited in silence, but just as he had
raised his hand to ring again, they heard the sound of
shuffling footsteps, and a moving glimmer appeared
in the fan-light above the door. There was the noise
of a bolt being drawn back, but the door itself only
opened a few inches, just sufficiently for them to see
the white face of a girl peering out of the heavy shadow.

" Is Mr. Flamel at home ? " the young clergyman
politely inquired ; and instantly the door was closed
and the light vanished.

" You don't, somehow, appear to have asked quite
the right question," observed Allingham, jocosely.
But Mr. Halvard did not reply.

Again the light became visible, and again they heard
the shuffle and flap of slippers that were too large over
a stone floor. The door opened, this time wide enough
to admit them, and at the girl's invitation, delivered
in excellent English, they entered. She held a small
lamp in her hand, and by its light they followed her
through a bare hall and up two flights of creaking,
uncarpeted stairs ; but they could see little save the,
soft dense black shadows that slid fantastically over
the walls and ceiling. At the top of the second flight
of stairs the girl waited, motioning to them to pass in
front of her. At the same instant a door at the end
of the passage opened wide, letting out a flood of light
that almost dazzled them. Allingham could dis-
tinguish nothing clearly, but he was conscious of a white
face, and a short stout figure clad in a black gown, like

88 THE GENTLE LOVER

the robe of a monk. Down the front of this gown a
long gray beard flowed. The figure stood there motion-
less, framed in the brilliancy of the doorway, and there
was a distinct pause before a deep, rather melodious
voice, speaking with a slightly guttural intonation,
invited them to enter.

" Thanks very much," Allingham replied lightly,
and not at all, he was afraid, in a manner Mr. Halyard
would consider appropriate. But for some reason,
perhaps because he felt that his fellow-visitor's nerves
were already a little overstrung, perhaps only
because of the theatrically solemn voice of the
Spiritualist, he refused to be impressed.

" I hope we're not disturbing you, Mr. Flamel,"
he pursued, in the conversational tone of one drop-
ping in to pay a social call at a rather unusual hour.
Meanwhile, Mr. Halvard seemed to be smitten with
dumbness, and the Spiritualist also was uncom-
municative, motioning them majestically to seats in
the full glow of the light, to which his own back was
turned.

Allingham could now make out his features more
distinctly. He judged him to be about fifty. He was
bald, save for two tufts of dirty, colourless hair just
above his ears, but an abundant, untrimmed, grayish
beard flowed down over his breast. Except for this
beard, he was clean-shaved, which Allingham decided
was a mistake. It would have been better to have
hidden a mouth so lipless as to be a mere gash in the
lower half of his face. His skin was very white and

THE GENTLE LOVER 89

Iooth ; his nose long, and thick at the end ; his
ehead high and retreating. The face was common-
place enough, except for the extraordinarily glittering
little eyes, and the ugly mouth. It was not his custom
to rush to conclusions, yet Allingham had already made
up his mind that he disliked Flamel. Were it not for
Mr. Halvard, he told himself, his visit would be brief ;
but the presence of this susceptible boy — for so Alling-
ham figured him — altered matters, and he determined
to stay as long as Mr. Halvard stayed.

' You are serious inquirers," the Medium volunteered
suddenly, " and as such you are welcome. But you
are perhaps beginners ? "

The latter observation appeared to be addressed
more particularly to the elder of the inquirers, who
immediately confirmed it. Allingham was puzzled as
to the nationality of the Medium. Save for his guttural

tonation, which might possibly be put on for their

nefit, he spoke English quite perfectly, and yet he did
not look English. He had remained standing all this
time, and in spite of his flowing robe Allingham noticed
t his body was very long, and his legs extremely
hort.

The Medium now proceeded to explain the situation
her. " People come to me sometimes," he said,
solemnly, " in the hope of seeing wonders ; but I tell
them to go to professional conjurors. I am but a seeker
after truth, not a wonder-worker. Yet I believe we
are on the eve of marvellous discoveries. The light is
shining through ; the curtain is trembling. Where

90 THE GENTLE LOVER

there is sympathy, where there is faith, the spirits are
ready to manifest themselves ; but where there is mere
curiosity, hostile or sceptical, they come reluctantly,
or not at all. In such surroundings we know that the
Nazarene himself was powerless."

The allusion to the Nazarene appeared to Allingham
feeble, and even in questionable taste. " But one may
come, I suppose, simply with the intention of trying to
form an opinion ? " he said. " After all, a good
many people, I understand, go in for this sort of thing
in order to get faith."

The Medium assented. " In my own experience I
have seen many conversions, even among the most
sceptical, the professors and so-called men of science."

Allingham glanced at Mr. Halvard, and caught that
young man's eye, but without eliciting from it the
responsive flash of intelligence he had hoped for. It
was obvious that Mr. Halvard was impressed.

At that moment the door opened noiselessly, and
the girl who had admitted them slipped into the room,
quiet as a ghost. There was something wraith-like in
her appearance also, in the unhealthy pallor of her face,
which contrasted vividly with the black, frightened
eyes and purple-black hair.

" My daughter," said the Spiritualist vaguely ; and
Allingham and Mr. Halvard bowed.

" She too is psychic," Flamel went on. " She is
clairvoyant, and can see the spirits that I and most
others can feel and hear, but can rarely see."

The gifted ^irl presented indeed an appearance of

;:

THE GENTLE LOVER 91

aving seen only too many of these unearthly visitants,
and it struck Allingham that she was proportionately

ncomf ortable in the society of the parent who attracted
them. She sat, like a nervous school -boy, on the
extreme edge of a chair, and seemed to be watching
with a painful attention for some sign from her father.
Allingham regarded her with a curiosity that was
mingled with compassion, while the Medium continued
to talk, in a high-sounding, windy style, throwing out
the wildest statements as if they were established
cts, heaping contempt on the Society for Psychical
Research, because of its timidity and caution, its
suppression of the very facts that if published would
prove once and for all the truth of what it professed to
be searching for.

And those who come to consult you," Allingham
ntured deliberately, " I presume there is — eh — some

=

The Medium smiled. " One does not sell the breath
of the spirit," he said. " I am the means of giving to
others, according as they are fitted to receive. I am
not rich, and those who make use of me give me, in

turn, what they want to give ; I neither ask nor

fuse. ... It is your wish, I think," — he turned to
Halvard — " that we should have a sitting ? "
I see, Mr. Flamel, that you are indeed a diviner,"
Allingham remarked, with his slight drawl.

The Medium faced him quickly, and his little, glitter-
ing eyes for a moment appeared to expand. Then they
half closed. " If you are determined to resist, if you

92 THE GENTLE LOVER

have come here with that intention, it will be better to
attempt nothing. When even one of the party is
out of sympathy it is very difficult to get into
communication. You will admit that this is not sur-
prising. The state of mind of the inquirer must either
help or hinder the spiritual forces to manifest them-
selves."

44 We are not out of sympathy," Mr. Halvard hastened
to assure him.

The Medium fixed his eyes upon the young clergy-
man. " When I come into your environment, I am
conscious of a brightness. . . . You were born in the
cool of the year. You were born in one of the cool
months, were you not ? "

" In May," Mr. Halvard murmured.

" May ? That is a cool month, isn't it ? On what
day of May were you born ? "

44 The thirty-first," Mr. Halvard stammered, and
Allingham laughed.

The glance that Flamel darted at him was swift as
the flicker of a lizard's tongue, but at once he recon-
centrated his attention upon his other visitor. 44 When
I come into your environment, I am conscious of one
who is near you — a lady — a lady who has passed over.
Can you place that ? Your mother ? Has your
mother passed over ? "

44 Do you mean, is she dead ? "

44 Yes, yes. Is your mother in the spirit world ? "
The question came with something that to Allingham
sounded very like suppressed irritation.

:

j

rvn*

THE GENTLE LOVER 98

No ; but I had an aunt who died a few months

»j

*' An aunt ? Your mother's sister, then ? "

"Yes."

" Thank you. . . . She is with you now. She brings
ou a great spiritual power and encouragement. But
ou must give the right vibrations — love vibrations —
ibrations of sympathy — if we are to be successful. . . .
an you for an hour lay aside your old prejudices, your
old ideas ? " It was to the elder man that this last
remark was addressed.

" Can you, Halvard ? " Allingham echoed, gaily,
ut he saw that Mr. Halvard was not pleased with the
attitude he had adopted.

" Certainly," the young man replied, without looking
at him.

The Medium paused for a moment. " Come this

y," he then said.

As he spoke he stepped back a couple of paces and
opened a door ; not the door they had entered by, but
another, and Allingham and Mr. Halvard and the girl
passed through, the Medium following them, and
closing the door behind him.

The large room in which they now found themselves
was, Allingham supposed, the one in which the seances
usually took place. It was feebly lit by a gas-jet only
half turned on, and was unfurnished save for a few
chairs, and a couple of round tables, on one of which
lay some kind of stringed instrument unfamiliar to
Allingham. The floor was uncarpeted ; the walls were

94 THE GENTLE LOVER

bare save for a mirror that faced the door ; from the
high ceiling a bronze lamp, unlit, hung on metal chains.
There was to Allingham's frankly prejudiced view
something calculated in the very bareness of the room,
and he prepared himself to witness a not particularly
brilliant conjuring exhibition. The absence of curtains,
of cabinets, of anything which could offer a hiding-
place, seemed to plead that there would be " no decep-
tion." He would not have been surprised to see the
Medium roll up his sleeves, and indeed something of the
kind took place when Flamel removed his black gown
and put on an ordinary jacket that was hanging over
the back of one of the chairs. He then motioned them
to their seats, which were drawn up round a table — not
the one upon which the musical instrument lay. Ailing-
ham sat at the Medium's right, Mr. Halvard at his left.
Then the girl, at a gesture from her father, lowered the
gas to a blue spark, and in the darkness slipped to her
seat between Allingham and Mr. Halvard. They joined
hands and waited.

Allingham began to wonder what form the trickery
would take, for he had never attended a seance before ;
he also wondered if he should be able to detect it.
Suddenly the guttural voice of the Medium broke the
silence. " There may be nothing ; we must be patient ;
very often it is necessary to wait for half an hour
even when all the circumstances are favourable."

They sat on, and the performance, to Allingham, who
supposed he was the unfavourable circumstance
alluded to in the Medium's last remark, took on a

CACU

bee

r

J1UU

posi

THE GENTLE LOVER 95

ightly ludicrous air. What appeared to be a long
e passed, and still there was no sign given. Alling-
's expectations of even a conjuring entertainment
w faint. He knew the Medium had divined his

ostility, and very likely he intended to make it an
excuse for a fruitless sitting, so that Mr. Halvard might
encouraged to return alone. The best way to pre-

ent this would be to convict Flamel of fraud. Ailing-
had, he didn't know why, developed a strong desire
to protect Mr. Halvard from his own credulity ; yet
he could hardly show the Medium up if the latter did
nothing. His mind wandered round this idea. Sup-
ing Flamel attempted some trickery, what would
be the best way to expose him ? The gas was out of
reach. A match suddenly struck — that might do!
One of those small electric lamps would have been

tter still, if he had thought of getting one. . .

ut, after all, why should he be so anxious to prevent
Mr. Halvard from being duped ? . . .

They seemed to have been sitting like this for hours,
and he began to feel bored and to wonder when it would
be decided that the experiment had failed. He was
on the point of asking when he became conscious that
somebody was trembling. He started into alertness.
Was it the Medium ?— Halvard ?— the girl ? Was it
the table ? He could not decide, for the impression had
been only momentary, and everything was once more
quite still. But Allingham now began to feel a certain
eeriness in the situation. . . . The darkness seemed
intense. He could see the little blue point of gas

96 THE GENTLE LOVER

behind him reflected in the mirror. It was the still-
ness, the waiting, that were uncanny. Grim tales of
impossible happenings flashed into his mind, and then
the thought that this was probably what the Medium
was working for, steadied him again. . . .

Suddenly he felt that something had happened, he did
not know what. This time, at any rate, it was the
Medium who trembled. A low sigh escaped him,
seemed to shudder out into the darkness, and to be
followed by another sigh that was almost a moan.
Allingham could feel him stirring uneasily ; another
deep sigh ; and then profound quiet. Allingham be-
came conscious of a cold breath that blew past his face.
Far away, right outside their circle, in some distant
corner of the room, a sharp rap broke the silence. It
was followed by another and another in quick suc-
cession, a whole series of little explosive sounds,
increasing in loudness and then growing fainter. The
table trembled, tilted towards Allingham, was still.

" They are here," a voice said faintly,

" Who is here ? " Allingham asked ; but there was no
reply.

Then the same voice that had spoken before called
out, " I cannot see. ... I cannot see."

There was another silence, broken by a stifled groan
from the Medium. . . . Allingham became conscious
of a scent, sweet, familiar ; something cool and soft
brushed his face — a flower ; something was pulling at
the lapel of his coat. And the sweetness persisted, the
scent of a rose, strong, unmistakable. ... A plain-

THE GENTLE LOVER 97

ive note of a musical instrument sounded far above his
ead ; and then, right at the other side of the room,
speck of light floated out of nothing, crossed the
irror, grew larger, passed above them, disappeared.
Allingham gripped the hand of the Medium, the
d of the girl. He knew they were doing these
ngs, but how ? All at once the bronze lamp above
im began to swing on its metal chains, with a
ow tinkling sound ; a hand stroked his hair from
hind.

" I can feel something — somebody is touching my
e," Mr. Halvard's voice piped oddly.
A faint, bluish light stole out from the metal lamp,
that could now be seen waving from side to side with a
wide sweeping motion, like the swing of a pendulum ; a
avy odour of incense floated across the room, drown-
g the fainter scent of roses, and increasing rapidly
ill the whole atmosphere grew dense with it. It
emed to be coming from the lamp ! Allingham felt it
losing in about him ; a voice whispered, " Who is
there ? Is it Hugo ? " and another voice, coming from
e Medium, but not his, answered, " No — no." And
ain the faint, melancholy note of a stringed instru-
ent was plucked out in a feeble twang.
In spite of himself, Allingham had a disagreeable
nse of something vague and shadowy behind Mr.
ivard's chair — a sort of concentration of the dark-
ess, as if it were gradually materialising, though he
d not make out any definite form. He struggled
t the impression, but it continued to gain upon

Q

98 THE GENTLE LOVER

him. Another wave of cold air passed through the
room, and at the same instant the light of the lamp went
out. For the space of a few seconds Allingham felt
himself slipping over the boundary of credulity ; for
the space of a few seconds he was distinctly conscious
of the presence of something mysterious, ghostly —
something that had not been there before. He made a
last effort to recover his presence of mind. There was
a jarring crash ; he was on his feet. The gas ? He
plunged at it, and by good luck twitched it on at once,
wheeling round as he did so. The others were sitting
at the table, Mr. Halvard rather pale, the Medium
leaning back, his eyes shut, his head resting against
the top bar of the chair. There was no sign of dis-
order save his own overturned seat, and the lamp, far
out of reach of anybody sitting down, still swung
gently to and fro.

Yet, with the coming of the light, Allingham was
certain he had been tricked. The eyes of the Medium
opened and he sat up ; the eyes of all three sitters
stared at Allingham. The Medium got on his feet,
but he still appeared slightly dazed. "You were
nervous ? " he suggested. " What happened ? I
should have told you not to do anything rash like this.
It is wrong — wrong."

Allingham was angry. He sniffed at the heavy
incense fumes that filled the room, and gave a snort of
disgust. ' You'd better open a window," he recom-
mended, contemptuously.

" You shouldn't have moved," the Medium continued

THE GENTLE LOVER 99

calmly. ; You have spoiled it. It might have been
an excellent sitting. Was it Hugo ? " he asked the
girl, who shook her head.

Allmgham became aware of Mr. Halvard's fixed
gaze, and glancing down in the apparent direction of it,
discovered the cause. There, in his own button-hole,
in full bloom, was a red rose, exactly similar to those
Brian had brought him yesterday.

He felt that he had been fooled, and his first impulse
was to snatch the flower out, but as he lifted his hand
to do so he saw the absurdity of his anger. He was
convinced that the whole thing had been fraud, but
he had no proofs, for the mere triviality of the " pheno-
mena " did not constitute a proof. It was quite con-
ceivable that spirits, especially if they were human, would
behave idiotically. The best thing was to apologise.

14 I'm afraid I've shown myself very unworthy," he
said, with an effort. " You must put it down, Mr.
Flamel, to the influence of some ill-behaved spook who
managed to slip in uninvited. . . . I'm sorry, Hal-
vard, for having broken up the sitting."

" You thought you were being tricked," the Medium
explained, with a provoking simplicity, which to Ailing-
ham sounded suspiciously like impudence.

" And I was annoyed at not discovering the trick,"
he completed. " That's very likely the truth." He
laughed shortly. 4 You don't want to begin again,
Halvard, do you, even if I promise to keep perfectly
still ? "

But Mr. Halvard had risen, and was expressing his

100

THE GENTLE LOVER

interest and regrets to the Medium. Allingham waited
for him. The girl had disappeared before these
explanations had been reached, but she now came back,
to light them down the dark staircase ; and the vision
of her pale, sad, frightened face haunted Allingham
long after the heavy outer door had closed behind
them.

CHAPTER XI

THEY came out into a night of extraordinary quiet and
beauty. The air had a cold freshness that dispelled
the fumes of the heated atmosphere which had accom-
panied their recent, dubious initiation into the occult
world. And presently, through the stillness, there
dropped the familiar chime of the carillon, coming to
the older man with an exquisite assurance of peace.

The dreaming city lay all around them, its dark,
pinnacled roofs, pointed gables, and tall spires, sil-
houetted against the moon-washed sky. Their footsteps
awoke lonely echoes as they passed along roughly-
paved streets and by black, motionless water-ways.
Allingham could understand how stimulating all this
might be to the imagination of an impressionable and
slightly superstitious neophyte, who should have
attended one of FlamePs seances ; and he was reminded
of the Metamorphoses of Apuleius, a work he had
not read since his boyhood — of the arrival of its hero in
Thessaly, where, under the influence of many tales he
has heard of that witch-haunted land, he cannot help
seeing in everything around him evidences of magic,
in each tree and stone a possible human creature,

101

102 THE GENTLE LOVER

transformed by the spell of a malicious wizard. The
temporary excitement of their adventure over, it took
on for him a half ridiculous, half disreputable light, and
certainly, so far as he was concerned, it would never be
repeated. At the best, that kind of thing held no
attraction for him, and what he had witnessed, he was
sure, had been very far from the best. He disbelieved
instinctively — he could not help it — in all the mysterious
phenomena vouched for by persons infinitely more
trustworthy than Mr. Flamel. He knew that the
attitude he had adopted in this particular instance
would have struck him as highly unintelligent in any
other connection, nor had he, in argument, ever
attempted to justify it. The explanation really lay
in the fact that, despite his scepticism, such things
had an unaccountably disquieting effect upon his
mind, his nerves at all events. They seemed, in a
fashion, to be so closely related to insanity, to various
kinds of mental abnormality, and of anything of that
sort he had a horror. He believed in hallucinations, if
he did not believe in ghosts ; and he knew that even
were he to see a ghost he should not believe in it ;
therefore, what purpose could be served by inquiring
into matters he found so distasteful ? One thing, how-
ever, he had learned from their visit ; namely, that
Mr Halvard was more highly-strung than he had
imagined him to be. He had an idea that Mr. Halvard
had been very much more ' in ' the experiment than
he had, and was avoiding discussing it till he should
have had time to think it over. Yet he found it

THE GENTLE LOVER

103

difficult to understand how anybody — anybody of
Mr. Halvard's intelligence — could be impressed by
such vulgar and futile trickery.

" Well, good-night," he drawled pleasantly to the
young clergyman, when they reached their hotel. " I
hope our dreams, at all events, will be free from mani-
festations." He smiled his slow smile as he separated
from his companion, for it was his own intention to
dismiss the matter at once from his mind and go
quietly to bed.

CHAPTER XII

ALLINGHAM'S slumbers, at any rate, were untroubled
by spiritual visitors, but in the morning, while he still
lay dozing very comfortably, he became conscious of
a rapping at his door. It sounded, to his dreamy per-
ception, quite like the trick of some playful poltergeist,
though in the sunlight he thought he might risk a reply.

" Come in," he lazily called, and the next moment
Brian entered, with an apology for paying so early a
visit.

" You're a real boy, aren't you ? " Allingham asked,
clutching him, as if for proof of his solidity, by the arm.
" Ah, that's all right ! " Then, as Brian looked at him
in surprise, he laughed aloud. " I thought you might
be part of last night's seance."

Brian had forgotten, but he now remembered. " Oh,
yes ; Sylvie told me. I wanted to ask you to take me
with you, but she said that I mustn't. . . , What
happened ? "

" Wonderful things." He felt under his pillow for
his watch. " I find that it's not so much that your visit
is early, as that I am late. You'll have to stay and
talk to me while I dress and get my breakfast."

104

THE GENTLE LOVER 105

I'm afraid I can't," Brian answered, as he seated
himself near the window, and began to twirl his cap
round and round. " Shall I pull up the blind ? "

" I think you had better."

The boy let the two spring blinds run up, one after
the other, with a loud click. Allingham lay drowsily
watching him as he moved about the room, taking stock
of everything, examining the hair-brushes, the dressing-
case, the razors. He drew one of these latter from its
box. " Shall I strop it for you ? " Then a sudden
thought seemed to strike him, and, blushing, he sat

wn abruptly again in the chair by the window.

" What's the matter ? " Allingham asked.

" I wasn't thinking of what I was doing — rummaging
about among your things. I'm awfully sorry."

" Rummage as much as you like," Allingham
laughed. " I have no secrets. You can strop the
razor, too, if you consider that the odds are against
your cutting the leather."

But Brian, having remembered his manners, sat still.
" I came to see you last night," he said, " but of course
you were out at this seance."

You should have waited. However, I'm afraid
were rather late."
I did wait for a bit. I ought to have left a note for

ou, but I didn't think of it till I was in bed. ... We
going away to-day — this morning — at half-past ten

which doesn't leave us very much time. . . . It's

1 Aunt Sophy's doing. She began to grouse like any-
the minute we got home from Ghent, about

106 THE GENTLE LOVER

Bruges being unhealthy, and a lot of rot of that sort,
till she got mamma to think there must be something
in it, especially as she happened to have a headache.
Aunt Sophy knows as well as I do that mamma gets a
headache every time she goes in a train, but she insisted
that it was the canals. And then she dragged in
about me. I wasn't very well a week or two ago, and
the doctor said I had outgrown my strength or some
nonsense of that kind, because I fainted — the way any-
one might do. Sylvie and I said we were going to stay
on, but that only made Aunt Sophy choose the morn-
ing train instead of the afternoon one. It's awfully
stupid. I wanted to stay here another week. And it's
not as if we were in any hurry ; we've plenty of time.
Besides, you might have come with us then, though
Aunt Sophy says you're going to Paris."

" I see ! " Allingham was no longer drowsy, but
he was conscious of a sudden blankness of outlook.
This departure was the last thing he had expected.
As for Paris, he had forgotten all about it.

There was a longish pause, which was again broken
by Brian. " Well, I suppose I'll have to cut along
now. Do you think you'll have time to come over
to our place before we go ? The others were saying at
breakfast that they would drive round here on their
way to the station, to say good-bye to you."

" Oh, yes ; I'll come," Allingham promised.

" And you'll come to Florence, too, won't you ? "
the red boy added shyly from the doorway, where he
stood, framed against the darkness of the passage

THE GENTLE LOVER 107

beyond, looking back into the room, fiddling with the
handle of the door. " If you could follow by another
train, Sylvie and I would meet you at the station. I
suppose it would be too much of a rush to catch the
one we're going by ? "

e next moment Allingham was alone. He dressed
uickly, and cut himself while shaving. In this way
he lost time, so that on coming downstairs he went
out at once. But when he reached the smaller hotel
the only person he saw was Miss Kilronan, already
dressed for the journey. The others evidently had
not finished packing, and Sophy was paying the bill
when he entered.

" Why this hasty flight, Sophy ? " he asked quietly.

" It is not really so hasty as it seems," Miss Kilronan
explained, but she coloured a little. " We never
intended to stay here more than a few days. . . .
There is the carriage now ! " A rattle of approaching
wheels was in fact audible outside. " Well, he may
just wait : I told him not to come till ten-past."

Allingham saw that she was not quite at her ease,
but he forebore to press her further, though he felt
that Sophy had not treated him well. "I had no
idea you were going to-day," he said simply. " Was
such an early hour necessary ? "

«' There is nothing unusual about the hour, Bennet.
e half-past ten train happens to be the best— -that
is all. People do, now and then, catch morning trains,
you know. Besides, once you have made up your
mind to leave a place I think much the most satisfactory

108 THE GENTLE LOVER

way is to get it all over as quickly as possible." She
was interrupted by a loud barking, which apparently
came from the hall. " That's that wretched beast ! "
(Poor Graf, for Aunt Sophy, was never a dog, but
always either a beast, or a brute, or a mongrel — at the
best an animal.) " I wish I had bribed somebody to
steal him last night. . . . Excuse me a minute, Bennet :
I must tell the others the carriage is here."

" You have plenty of time," Allingham murmured,
looking at his watch. "It is barely ten o'clock, and
five minutes will take you to the station."

But Miss Kilronan bustled off, and he was left
alone in the long narrow room. The coarse, white
tablecloth was still littered with the remains of break-
fast. He gazed at a picture of Christ carrying the
cross, and at a mirror backed with pink gauze. He
wondered what the gauze was there for, and his eyes
wandered to the sinister fly-traps that dangled from
the ceiling. Through the door that Sophy had not
shut he could see people passing along the hall on
their way to the beer-house at the back, and the clatter
which accompanies the washing of plates and dishes
came from the kitchen.

In spite of Miss Kilronan 's words, Allingham thought
their starting off like this, at a moment's notice, very
strange. He did not want to think so, but he knew
that only an invitation to follow them to Florence
could remove the impression. And it was somehow
strengthened by the fact that such an invitation had
been given him by Brian, He remembered the boy's

THE GENTLE LOVER 109

shyness. Brian had known how the matter would
strike him. . . . His thoughts were interrupted by the
hasty entrance of Mrs. Grimshaw, who came in button-
ing her gloves, and in a state of distraction which
precluded a consciousness of anything save luggage
and the train. She shook hands with Allingham, and
immediately wanted to know what time it was. She
seemed, as she waited anxiously for his reply, to have
lost faith in all the clocks and watches she had pre-
viously consulted, and even in the carillon.

44 Are you sure I can't help you in any way ? " he
inquired.

44 Oh, no, thanks, Mr. Allingham. Brian has gone
on with Graf ; and a man is seeing after the luggage.
I am just waiting for Sophy and Sylvie."

He followed her from the room, and they were joined
at the door by Miss Kilronan and her niece. Allingham
assisted them into the carriage, and then took the vacant
front seat beside Sylvie. They arrived at the station
ten minutes too soon. The luggage was already there
in a heap upon the platform, where Brian stood mount-
ing guard over it, with Graf at his heels. They waited
for the train, manufacturing conversation in which
nobody was interested, and glancing every now and
then at the hands of the station clock. No one had
said anything about Allingham's joining them in
Florence, and he had quite ceased to expect it when
Sylvie asked : 44 Why don't you come with us, Mr.
Allingham ? "

44 Mr. Allingham has already said that he is going

110 THE GENTLE LOVER

to Paris," Aunt Sophy replied ; 44 and since he has
just left Florence we can hardly expect him to return
there even for the privilege of travelling by the next
train to ours. You are going to Paris, Bennet, aren't
you ? "

44 1 daresay," he answered, quietly. 44 My plans are
always rather vague."

44 1 don't believe you have any plans at all, Mr.
Allingham," Sylvie declared, 44 and therefore you have
no excuse for not coming to Florence. At any rate,
the fact that we will be there alters the whole situation.
. . . You might at least say it does, even if it doesn't,"
she added, her smile resting on his face, and filling him
with a sudden resolve.

44 It is very probable that you may see me there,"
he said.

44 Here is the train ! " Mrs. Grimshaw cried nervously,
as the whistle of the engine reached them. 44 We'll be
very glad to see you, Mr. Allingham : you must be
sure to let us know when you come. I had no idea
myself that we were going to leave in such a hurry

but Sophy seemed to think Brian, dear, don't

stand so close to the edge."

44 I'm several feet from the edge, mamma, not to
say yards. Besides, I'm going to hold your hand as
soon as the engine comes in sight."

44 An accident can so easily happen," Mrs. Grimshaw
went on.

44 All the same, I don't believe there's going to be
one. , . . And I'm insured. You'll get a thousand

THE GENTLE LOVER 111

pounds for me if you remember to keep the cover of
the newspaper."

" Don't jest about such things," said Mrs. Grimshaw,
nervously.

Allingham shook hands with the two elder ladies as
the train drew in with a rattle and clash of chains, and
a shrill cry of escaping steam.

" I'm not going to say good-bye to you, Mr. Alling-
ham," said Sylvie, as he turned to her. " Then you'll
have to come to Florence."

Mrs. Grimshaw and Miss Kilronan had already
clambered up the steep, high steps of an empty car-
riage. Sylvie followed them.

" It was very good of you to come to the station with
us, Mr. Allingham," Mrs. Grimshaw murmured, dis-
tractedly, through the window. " Is the luggage all
right, Brian ? "

The boy approached, coming leisurely along the
platform, having left Graf with the guard.
All except one box of Aunt Sophy's."
One box ! What do you mean ? " She made a
movement to rise from her corner seat, but Sophy
Kilronan pulled her back.

" Sit down, Lucy."

" But why does he say ? "

" Don't listen to what he says."
' You'll come, Mr. Allingham, won't you ? " asked
Brian, as the others were arranging umbrellas, rugs,
and various articles of apparel, on the racks. 14 We
want you to come."

112 THE GENTLE LOVER

Allingham shook his hand. " Yes," he answered.

A porter slammed the door and the engine whistled.
Allingham raised his hat to his departing friends.
He stood on the platform as long as the train remained
in sight. The red boy at the window waved his hand ;
next moment Sylvie, too, leaned out, her face close to
her brother's, cheek by cheek. They both waved
once more, and then were hidden from view.

Allingham walked out of the station and round by
the ramparts in the direction of the park. The sun
had come out, and in the clear autumn stillness he
could hear the crisp dry rustle of the brown leaves as
they dropped on the faded grass. Bruges had never
looked more beautiful than on this perfect morning,
yet somehow it seemed strangely chilling and dis-
heartening, so that he took no pleasure in his stroll. He
passed by the Lac d'Amour, but felt no temptation to
linger anywhere. And suddenly he saw, leaning out
of the back window of a lonely house beside the outer
canal, a head, sinister, strange, ugly. It was only
when he came closer that he discovered it to be carved
out of wood and coloured rudely to imitate life. The
effect, he knew not why, had been extraordinarily
unpleasant. He turned to go home, feeling depressed
and lonely. He was not fond of railway travel, but
he knew it would be a great happiness now to be
suffering all the discomforts of that jolting, weary
journey between Bruges and Florence, even were it
twice as weary, twice as long, dusty, and uncomfortable,

CHAPTER XIII

WHEN he reached the Panier d'Or, he had already
decided to take the afternoon train to Paris.

" I'm going on to-day," he abruptly told Mr. Halvard,
whom he found at lunch, and bestowing a more serious
attention upon that repast than might have been
expected from so ascetic a young man, or, indeed,
than the repast itself, in Allingham's opinion, deserved.
I hope you won't pay another visit to our friend of
,st night. I'm convinced that the man is a black-
guard, an adventurer, who might easily become
itively dangerous."

Mr. Halvard's dark blue eyes were fixed upon him as
he made this speech, and Allingham suddenly smiled.
He rather liked Mr. Halvard now ; there was more in
him than he had at first thought, and his personal
uty was wonderful.

" No, I don't think I shall go back," the young
clergyman replied. " I — I have been thinking the
matter over, and I am not sure that it is right. . . .
must confess, however," he added, more importantly,
that I have not at all reached your conclusion that
e man is an impostor ; nor, even granting part of

113 H

po.

-

114 THE GENTLE LOVER

the performance to have trickery, been due to do I
see how that can possibly explain everything. I am
convinced that neither he nor the girl ever stirred from
their chairs ; yet some of the furniture on the other
side of the room was moved. And then the lights . . .
and your rose ..."

" The rose trick was certainly clever," Allingham
admitted, " especially as we imagined ourselves to be
holding their hands at the time. But the fact that
the flower appeared to have been spirited from the
bunch in my room at home must have been due merely
to a happy chance. . . . Altogether apart from these
marvels, my dear fellow, you ought to be able to tell
a scoundrel by the look of him. I should think it
particularly desirable in your profession, since you
must come across plenty of people only too willing to
take advantage of you."

" It does not do for a clergyman to be suspicious,"
Mr. Halvard replied. "If he is he can be of very
little use to anyone. It is better that he should be
taken advantage of now and then, than that he should
perhaps be unjust at the time when he is most needed."

This remark pleased Allingham — pleased him much
more than anything he had yet heard Mr. Halvard say.
" Well, in this case I want you to take my word for
it," he went on, persuasively. " If I had been alone
last night I should not have stayed five minutes. And
as for all that took place, I fancy we were partially
stupefied by that abominable stuff he burned. Some
of the ' phenomena,' too, may have been due to a

THE GENTLE LOVER 115

kind of self -hypnotism. I do not think the girl had a
great deal to do with what happened ; she seemed to
be too frightened to be of much use in that way. On
the other hand, she must have been there for some
purpose, or she wouldn't have been there at all."

" It may be so."

" At all events, I'd feel happier if I had your positive
assurance that you were not going back. I know," he
went on, kindly, " that I run the risk of appearing very
meddlesome, and that it's perfectly open to you to
tell me to mind my own business, but what I say is
prompted by the best of motives, by my interest in
you ; and the man, I feel sure, is quite unscrupulous."

" You are very kind," said Mr. Halvard.

" It is you who will be kind, if you do what I ask."

44 If I promise not to go back ? Certainly I will give
you my word, if you want it. Indeed, I am not sure
now that I ever ought to have gone. We are not, I
fancy, intended to pry into these things. They appear
to have been veiled from us purposely, and my original

§ motive, I now see, was much more a mere morbid
curiosity than the one I took credit for at the time."
44 Well, as long as you aren't bent on following it
up " Allingham smiled. 44 It is a mistake to have

anything to do with people of that sort. You never
know when or how they may get some kind of
hold upon you, and if they do, the result, of course,
is disastrous."

44 1 daresay I shall leave Bruges to-morrow or the
next day myself," Mr. Halvard said.

116 THE GENTLE LOVER

" In that case we may meet again soon — if you think
of coming to Paris."

Mr. Halvard shook his head.

" In Italy, then," Allingham suggested.

" You are going back to Italy ? "

" To Florence, I expect. I don't know when
exactly ; but certainly within the next few weeks.
I'll look out for you."

" Thanks very much. I shall look out for you also."

I

CHAPTER XIV

ON his arrival in Paris Allingham drove straight to
an English hotel in the rue St. Honor e, where he
booked a room looking out into a charming, enclosed
court, green with tall plants in tubs.

" Shall you be staying long, sir ? " the manager
inquired, as he showed him his apartment.

" I don't know. About a week. I'm late for dinner,
I suppose ? "

" A little, sir ; but I expect we can manage."

So Allingham dined alone, in a large, brilliant
dining-room, with red-shaded lamps, flowers, and a
profusion of white linen, of plate and glass ; but
dined excellently. Coming out into the broad hall, he
stepped most gingerly from mat to mat across the
over-polished floor, with an uncomfortable sense that
it was only a matter of time before he should become
more closely acquainted with it. He had his coffee in
a little nook among the palms, and glanced about him
languidly. He did not know what to do to pass the
evening, for he had no friends in Paris, and it was too
late for the theatres. He had the hall, the palms and
hothouse plants, almost to himself. There were two

H7

118 THE GENTLE LOVER

or three ladies (including one who appeared to be an
Indian Empress) reading novels or writing letters ;
there was an old gentleman looking over an American
newspaper ; there was a small boy wandering about
with his hands in the pockets of his knickerbockers,
and entering into conversation with any one and
everyone — the manager, the head waiter, and Ailing-
ham himself, to whom he confided that his father, his
sister, and brother, had gone to the opera, and that his
mother had gone to bed. Allingham pathetically
envied this lady. Why, he asked himself, had he come
to Paris at all ? He might just as well have stayed
on in Bruges and been bored there at considerably less
expense. He had an idea that he had really obeyed
a suggestion from Sophy Kilronan. He thought of
going out for a stroll, but he did not know his way
about, and did not feel equal to the exertion of asking
it. Presently he drifted to the door, and stood there,
looking disconsolately down the long narrow street,
which was somehow quite different from what he had
expected it to be. His hotel was nearly at the corner,
and he at last ventured as far as that point of observa-
tion. From there he by-and-by proceeded across the
Place Vendome, when he suddenly found himself
facing the Opera House, which flamed and flared in a
radiance of blue light. Allingham pursued his careful
course, keeping always in a straight line, so that his
return should involve no difficulty. He was really
shockingly unenterprising, but in the end he sat down
at one of the small tables of a cafe which sprawled out

THE GENTLE LOVER 119

over half the pavement. Here he ordered a drink —
an innocuous compound of lemon and soda-water — and
sat watching the stream of pedestrians passing before
him. The scene struck him as spectacular and vivid,
rather than attractive. Advertisements flashed in and out
in letters of fire, the colour changing from red to green,
and from green to white. There was a continuous
noise of traffic. A horrible man, in the service of
the Paphian goddess, lingered by his little table,
offering himself as a guide. A youth threaded his
way between the chairs with an armful of books,
calling out their titles : " Oh-e, ' Les Pauvres Soeurs.'
Oh-e, ' Les Pauvres Soeurs.' ' A bent old man was
picking up the cigarette and cigar ends from among the
feet of the loungers with a barbed walking-stick, and
dropping them into a capacious pocket. All around
were fat men with moustaches and cigars and an
amazing volubility ; ladies with hats and complexions,
their elbows leaning on the little tables before them.
And everywhere a kind of fever of unrest, a blinding
glare of light, a ceaseless din of voices and motors,
that acted upon his nerves like a strong light flashed
suddenly upon delicate eyes. Half an hour of this
was as much as Allingham required, and at the expira-
tion of that period he returned to his hotel. He there
found everything just as he had left it. The old
gentleman was still engaged upon his newspaper ; the
little boy was examining the superscriptions upon
some recently-arrived letters which the hall -porter
was sorting ; the Indian empress was drinking a

120 THE GENTLE LOVER

lemon-squash through a straw. Allingham went up-
stairs to his room.

He undressed and got into the cool, comfortable bed,
but he did not drop asleep for what seemed to him
a long time, and then, almost immediately, he was
awakened by a variety of noises in the corridor. There
was a slamming of doors, a ringing of bells, a murmur
of voices, a clatter of boots being hurled out of bed-
rooms. He switched on the electric light and read
till the noises gradually quieted down ; then he
switched the light off and composed himself once more
to slumber. He was just getting drowsy when he was
re-awakened by sounds in the court below, the court
that had looked so charming when he was engaging
his room. Voices in intermittent, but by no means
subdued, conversation, rose now up its echoing, well-
like walls, mingled with the swishing of a hose. Ailing-
ham again turned on his light, and looked at his
watch. It was after two. " What on earth are they
washing out the place for at this hour ? " he wondered,
impatiently. He got up and shut his window ; but he
had never been able to sleep with closed windows, and
did not expect to be successful now. The premonition
proved to be well-founded. In a short time he was
obliged to re-open his window, and draw in deep
breaths of the cool fresh air. The noise in the court
had ceased, however, and Allingham, retiring to his
bed, murmured an exhausted " At last ! " He lay
with closed eyes, and the still darkness was like a
caress upon his forehead. A lulling sleepiness slid

THE GENTLE LOVER 121

beneath his heavy eyelids, and passed through all
his limbs in a delicious relaxation. Ten minutes later
there was a tramping in the corridor outside, and the
door of the room next Allingham's was opened and
shut with a careless bang. The tramping continued,
now inside the room, which communicated with
Allingham's by another door, whose existence he had
not previously noticed, but through which the slightest
sound penetrated. Again the outer door opened and
shut with a jarring bang. The wanderer had flung
out his boots, but he continued for some time to tramp
about the room with muffled thuds of heavy feet. At
last silence — a silence that seemed charged with latent
noises ready to explode at any minute. Allingham
heard the half-hour strike ; then another clock, and
another, and another, irritatingly insisting upon the
passing of precious time. He made a determined effort
to go to sleep, but he was now wrought up to such a
pitch of expectancy that the rustle of a ghost would
have been audible to him, and the slightest creak of a
board set all his nerves jarring like tangled bell-wires.
He heard the clocks strike four ; he heard them
strike five ; then, through sheer weariness, he fell
asleep. He was aroused by a door opening in the
court below. " What are they going to do now ? "
he asked himself in despair. He lay, too fatigued to
get up and shut his window, listening to the moving
of tubs (the tubs in which grew those green plants
he had thought so pleasant yesterday), and watching

tday grow brighter.

CHAPTER XV

THEY breakfasted at nine o'clock, and Miss Kilronan,
who had been worried by travelling, and whose bell,
it appeared, the chambermaid had refused to answer,
was not in one of her more placid moods. In the
opinion of Brian and Sylvie, a tendency to crossness
had distinguished this lady ever since their departure
from Bruges, and, seeing that she herself had been
wholly responsible for their taking that step, such be-
haviour was inexcusable. Nobody else had wanted to
leave Bruges. On the contrary, everybody had wanted
to stay ; though their mother had pretended to drop
in with Aunt Sophy's idea. It was possibly with some
vague notion of backing it up now that Mrs. Grimshaw
said : "It seems so comfortable here after our last
hotel, doesn't it ? Yes ; coffee please."

But Aunt Sophy was not conciliated. " It
depends on what you call comfort. . . . What is the
man taking away our milk for ? . . . When you can't
get hot water in the morning, and the chambermaid is
impertinent and tells you there is something wrong
with the bell though you can hear it ring yourself per-
fectly distinctly, I must say I can conceive of a higher

122

THE GENTLE LOVER 123

standard of comfort ! As for the dust ! The place at
Bruges was at all events clean ! We must look for
lodgings this morning."

" I suppose if we could find suitable rooms, it would
be better," Mrs. Grimshaw agreed, pacifically.

44 Why announce it in that tone, Lucy ? You know
we never intended to stay anywhere but in rooms. . . .
And I don't see why we can't now and then have a
meal without an animal sniffing about us ! " She
flapped her serviette threateningly at a particularly lean
and hungry cat, whose attention Brian had secretly
attracted. " Sshh — get away ! Take it away," she
rapped out to the dreamy waiter, who at once sprang
into exaggerated activity, and sent the unfortunate
creature flying from the room.

" It was rather a nice cat, and it eats bread," said
Brian, softly.

" If you and Sylvie want cats messing round, you
must have your meals at another table, that is
all."

" Really, Aunt Sophy ! " Sylvie exclaimed.

But Miss Kilronan was not overawed. " Now don't
4 Aunt Sophy ' me," she returned sharply. 4t Do what
you're told without talking about it. Brian mayn't
be old enough to know better, but you are. We never
go anywhere without having all the miserable curs and
half-starved cats in the neighbourhood at our heels
five minutes after our arrival. I've put up with it
quite long enough. It's a mere fad. I never see that
you're the least thoughtful where human beings are

124 THE GENTLE LOVER

concerned. . . . And what, in the name of goodness,
has Brian got plastered on his hair ? Is it oil or
water ? " Her dark, bright eyes were fixed on the
immaculate parting which her nephew had so carefully
produced. " If it's water, I suppose it will dry during
the day ; but if it's oil, it had better be removed after
breakfast. These elaborate toilets are surely rather a
recent development ! "

Brian coloured up, for Aunt Sophy had touched a
particularly sensitive spot. The toilets alluded to — a
subtle harmony of ties and socks, a pronouncedness of
trouser-creases, and a general air of being brushed and
groomed — had, in fact, only come into existence with
the advent of Mrs. Leslie. They had been duly noted
by the mother and the sister, but these ladies had
refrained from passing any remark. Aunt Sophy
showed no such scruples, and even the rage and shame
that flamed in Brian's face did not soften her. Ailing-
ham was not the only person to whom she had men-
tioned her regard for her nephew, or, for that matter,
to whom she had confided the secret that she preferred
him to her niece ; but this affection, whatever else it
may have been, was not sentimental. She had more
than once given expression to the bewildering theory
that the boy took after her ; though, as she cordially
disliked her brother-in-law, and was at least fully
conscious of Lucy's limitations, the opinion may have
been based on nothing more substantial than that she
hoped he didn't take after them. She was rather
enjoying her nephew's confusion when Sylvie came to

THE GENTLE LOVER 125

his rescue with a not particularly brilliant attempt to
change the subject.

" I wonder what Mr. Allingham is doing at
present ? "

" There are not many things one can do at this hour
of the morning, except have breakfast," Aunt Sophy
replied.

" Perhaps we should have brought him with us,"
murmured Mrs. Grimshaw, who was really extremely
kind, though, unfortunately, in so vague and unprac-
tical a fashion, that her benevolence was principally
exercised in retrospect.

" Sylvie did suggest it," said Brian, in his
gruff, bass voice, " but nobody else was very pres-
sing."

" Why should we have been pressing ? " demanded
Miss Kilronan.

u I don't know, I'm sure, Aunt Sophy, if you don't.
I thought he was a friend of yours."

" Perhaps we should have asked him, Sophy," Mrs.
Grimshaw regretted. " Do you think he expected it ?
I daresay the poor man feels rather lonely. He can't
know very many people, and none of those he did know,
before he went away, are at all likely to be on the Con-
tinent."

44 If he cared to come there was nothing to prevent
his doing so," Miss Kilronan replied. " I suppose the
man knows his own mind."

But he never was like that," urged Mrs. Grimshaw,
remorsefully. " He would be the last person in the

126 THE GENTLE LOVER

world to push himself where he thought he wasn't
wanted."

" Then why didn't you ask him yourself ? It was
your place to do so, if he was to be asked at all."

" My place ! " echoed Mrs. Grimshaw, in astonish-
ment. " How was it my place ? "

" He may very easily have thought we didn't want
him," Sylvie put in. " In fact it is what anybody
would think who had been treated the way he was
treated."

" Do hold your tongue," snapped Aunt Sophy.
" One can't make the simplest remark without either
you or Brian chiming in, no matter what it's about ! "
She held out the empty coffee-pot to the dreamy waiter
with an air that sent that person on wings to the
kitchen.

uHe certainly never had much determination,"
Mrs. Grimshaw mused, conscious herself of possessing a
boundless supply of that quality to draw upon. " All
the same, I think you're a little hard upon him, Sophy."

" Aunt Sophy seems to prefer his photograph," said
Sylvie, sweetly.

" I don't know whether it has ever struck you that
your children are impertinent, Lucy ? " Miss Kilronan
suggested, with suppressed anger.

" I'm sure Sylvie didn't mean to be impertinent."

Sylvie slightly raised her eyebrows, but Aunt Sophy's
attention was fortunately diverted by the reappearance
of the lean and famished cat. She hissed fiercely at it,
but the offending beast merely withdrew as far as the

THE GENTLE LOVER 127

next table, from beneath which it stared at her with
large, round, bright eyes, like green lamps. " Obstinate
brute ! " Miss Kilronan ejaculated. " How anybody
can pretend to be fond of cats ! "

Sylvie had poured some milk into a saucer, but her
mother interfered. " Don't, dear, when you know
Aunt Sophy doesn't like it."

" I really don't see how it can possibly affect Aunt
Sophy one way or another from a distance of five
yards ! " said Sylvie, quietly, handing the saucer to
her brother, who hesitated.

" We can feed it afterwards, can't we ? " he growled
awkwardly.

Sylvie did not look at him, but got up herself, and
set the saucer down on the floor near the window. The
cat, pleasantly conscious of Miss Kilronan's annoyance,
at once ran to it with a little mew.

Aunt Sophy's lips drew in, but she pretended to take
no notice.

" I'd better go and give Graf his breakfast, too,"
said Sylvie, tranquilly. " I suppose you and Aunt
Sophy, mamma, will be able to choose rooms ? Brian
and I needn't go ? "

Why ? I love looking for rooms ! " her brother cried.
Brian can come with me, if you like, Lucy," said
Miss Kilronan, pointedly ignoring her niece.

" Mamma and I will take Graf for a walk."

'' That will be another complication ! " Miss Kilronan
suddenly remembered, with renewed impatience. " It's
really getting beyond a joke ! "

128 THE GENTLE LOVER

" He can sleep in my room."

" They'll find a place for him all right, Aunt Sophy,"
Brian interposed. " If they don't, we'll jolly well
know the reason why ! You just look at them the
way you looked at the cat a minute ago, and I'd like
to see the Italian who's going to refuse to take in half
a dozen dogs ! "

" Brian ! " his mother exclaimed, with a nervous
glance at her sister. But Aunt Sophy, handsome and
distinguished, did not appear to be displeased.

CHAPTER XVI

ALLINGHAM came down feeling stale and fagged, and
he determined to spend the morning in the open air.
With this purpose he drove out through the white,
sunlit streets to the Jardin des Plantes. He had
already decided — a little prematurely, perhaps — that
he did not like Paris. There was too much noise ;
there were too many people. The life, from the ex-
ceedingly brief glimpse he had had of it, struck him
as ugly and second-rate, devoid of all that, for him,
made life worth living. The whole, glittering, splendid
city seemed meretricious and unsatisfactory. Its
cynicism, its effrontery, its selfishness, its hard super-
ficial gaiety, both disgusted and bored him. The
ceaseless rush and hooting of the motors seemed
typical of its spirit. It had no gentleness, no human-
ity ; it welcomed you only in so far as you could pay
for your welcome. It might be superficially polite,
but it watched you all the time with hard rapacious
eyes while you put your hand in your pocket. Under
the veil of a high and complex civilization it was really
slightly unintelligent, and everywhere it flaunted its
appeal to the vulgar tastes of jaded pleasure-seekers.

129 I

130 THE GENTLE LOVER

The Jardin des Plantes seemed to him very prefer-
able to the boulevards ; the Jardin des Plantes was,
in fact, " all right." Here at least were trees and shady
walks, nurses and children ; above all, here were
animals, and in his present mood Allingham felt in-
finitely in sympathy with zebras and giraffes, camels
and antelopes. In any mood he would have preferred
them to Parisians, but just now, their grave, dreamy
eyes, their simplicity and nobility, were positively
revivifying, seemed to bring him back into possession
of his soul. Their soft, delicate, gentle lips and noses,
mumbling the food he offered, appealed to him deli-
ciously. Only in the monkey-house, amid the chatter
and squabble over a few grapes he had brought there,
was he reminded of the Paris outside, so he left the
monkey-house as quickly as possible. He fed the
demure hippopotamus with buns, which this large
creature dreamily appreciated ; he fed the philosophical
rhinoceros, and the naive elephant. There were two
or three young lions, not many weeks old, under the
care of a large dog, who had been engaged as a kind of
wet nurse. These little creatures were in the open air,
running over the grass, making frantic rushes at the
keeper's boots and the hems of his trousers. Allingham
was admitted into the enclosure, where he had the
privilege, in his turn, of being worried and bitten, to
the delight of a juvenile audience backed by apprecia-
tive mothers and nurses.

On his way home he felt less pessimistic. He had an
idea that if fate should ever compel him to take up his

u

•

THE GENTLE LOVER 131

abode in Paris, a good deal of his spare time would be
spent in the Jardin des Plantes.

He had told the man to drive slowly, and as he looked
about him, his attention was attracted to a shop in
whose windows a great variety of photographic appar-
atus was displayed. Allingham called out to the
chauffeur to stop. After a few minutes he emerged
from the shop, bearing with him a camera and all the
additional paraphernalia that had been suggested to
him as likely to be of use to a young photographer.
He arranged these parcels carefully on the front seat
of the car, and drove on to his hotel.

It was quiet enough now — deceptive spot ! Alling-
ham, looking mistrustfully into the green court, could
hardly imagine the disturbances of the past night, so
peaceful and serene it appeared. After lunch, feeling
more enterprising, he decided to visit the galleries of
the Louvre. He contented himself, nevertheless, with

scrutiny of those pictures which happened to have
chairs in their immediate vicinity, and as these were
not numerous, he was able to bestow a good deal of
time upon each. He lingered longest before a canvas
of Watteau's, the Embarquement pour Cythere. The
gracious suavity of the picture, its atmosphere of a
rich poetry, appealed to him. He felt as if he, too,
would like to be setting sail for that happy island.
Its drowsy fascination grew more and more insistent.
The winged loves hovered in the air ; the light turned
to bright burnished gold where it caught the peak of
a remote mountain ; the narrow stretch of water

132 THE GENTLE LOVER

widened gradually as it reached out and out towards
a golden haze that hid what strange enchantments
beyond ! Close at hand was a bust upon a pedestal
entwined with flowers, a sloping lawn, a gay delicate
company ; far away, behind that golden cloud, lay the
land of dreams, the unknown. . . .

On coming out of the gallery he crossed the river and
took a chair at a cafe at the corner of the Pont du Saint
Michel. He ordered a bock, which he did not drink,
and with his elbows on the little round table he sat
smoking a cigarette and looking at the scene before
him. A crimson flush was in the sky. All along the
river wall the booksellers were closing their boxes.
Trams passed incessantly ; pedestrians — a thin but
endless stream — mostly of the shopkeeping class, out
now to taste the fresh air and the brightness of the
streets, and talking, talking ; men and women, stout,
animated ; boys in loose white blouse suits, hanging
on their mothers' arms, their brown smooth legs
showing above short socks and below wide knicker-
bockers. . . .

Gradually the sky turned to gold, barred with purple
clouds, against which the trees and the tall buildings
along the river bank were silhouetted. Then the gold,
too, died away. Allingham recrossed the river and
strolled back to the gardens of the Tuilleries, that were
gray and delicate in the gathering dusk. He continued
his walk on through the Bois de Boulogne. There,
beside a pond, on which some children were sailing toy
boats, he came to a standstill. Through the trees a

THE GENTLE LOVER 133

stone god watched, frozen, silent. Dead brown leaves
twirled about his pedestal, and a humming of wind
passed overhead, like the murmur of an aeolian harp.
In the middle of the pond a fountain rose against the
darkening sky. A faint white light seemed to drop
down upon the whiteness of the children's boats. The
scene had a remote, ghostly quality : it was as if he had
imagined it, and by merely turning away his thoughts
could draw a veil over it again : and all the time a wind
music passed and repassed in thin arpeggios among the
rustling leaves. . . .

The children played like dream children, and in
Allingham's mind the whole picture took on a strangely
poetic quality, a quality as of something re-enacted in
the spirit, that had happened long ago. His mind was
filled with memories. They hovered before him, and
their soft wings brushed his face, like the wings of moths.
His life seemed to stretch out behind him in a long
perspective, tranquil, unbroken — a pattern woven in a
tapestry, slightly worn, yet still amazingly clear, in a
high, bright light that revealed every detail. To no
one but himself could these details have afforded much
food for reverie. Few existences, he felt, could have
been less eventful, less romantic. The most that could
be said for it was that it had been safe. Its tranquil
monotony had grown up about his soul, like a
dense high hedge composed of all the little trivial
habits of days and years, across which he was now
half startled to hear the voice of romance sounding
a perhaps mocking invitation. He listened to it

134 THE GENTLE LOVER

—listened though it disquieted him and left him
undecided.

Nevertheless, when he came back to his hotel, he
asked for a railway-guide and began to look out
the trains to Florence. He could catch a night train
which had a sleeping-car attached to it. With the
guide in his hand, he went to consult the hall porter,
and to answer the questions of the little American boy,
who wanted to know why he was leaving so soon, and
if he would like to be introduced to his " poppa," though
he admitted himself that it was hardly worth while
now, unless Allingham was really very keen.

CHAPTER XVII

ON reaching Florence, he found no difficulty in getting
the room he had before occupied on the Lungarno, close
to the Ponte Vecchio, for the season was not yet prop-
erly begun, and visitors were few. It was with a feeling
of keen pleasure that he looked out of his window at
the yellow, sluggish river, and at the backs of the long
line of irregular houses on the farther shore. The quiet
waters of the Arno lapped against the basements of
these mouldering edifices, coloured, in their decay, to
a faint and faded yellow, with brown roofs and green
shutters. Here and there, articles of clothing were
hanging out from upper windows to dry, yet it was
astonishing how even these homely garments adapted
themselves to the general tone of picturesqueness.
The whole scene was so mellow and soft, so richly
romantic, that he found himself lingering to gaze at
it, and to speculate on how long it would be before the
ancient, rotting dwellings crumbled down under the
water. He was perfectly aware that his enjoyment of
it all was largely due to a sense of being once more near
his friends. He did not know their address, but Flor-
ence was small, and it could only be a matter of hours,

135

136 THE GENTLE LOVER

at the most of a day or two, before he came across one
or another member of that charming family. It was
odd, the mysterious attraction he felt towards these
young folk. They " suited him," as he prosaically
put it, and, though his nature was not misanthropic,
he had come across remarkably few persons who
fulfilled this function. He had never been much
in sympathy with his own people, and time and separa-
tion had made them almost strangers to him. Long
ago, Allingham had decided that, for these to whom it
really means anything, friendship is a matter of spiritual
sympathy, and not of consanguinity. Blood might be
thicker than water, but it was not, in his case, thick
enough to awaken any ardent desire to visit households
he was certain to find uncongenial, and where, now, he
could be nothing but a name. As an extremely small
boy, he remembered having been reproved for a similar
lack of enthusiasm by an indignant and unknown aunt,
who had descended one day upon the nursery, dropping,
as it were, out of the blue. Upon that memorable
occasion shyness had been pleaded for him in excuse,
but the aunt, unmollified, had declared that " he ought
to know his own flesh and blood." An ingenuous reply
to the effect that he might know it, but that he didn't
like it, had mysteriously aggravated the offence, with
the result that he had been sent there and then, in
tearful and clamourous disgrace, to bed. Well, they
couldn't send him to bed now, and even the alternative
punishment of " no pudding " was out of the question.
One thing alone caused him a pang of uneasiness ; his

THE GENTLE LOVER 137

uncertainty as to how he should be received by Sophy
Kilronan. Sophy had been extremely cordial in her
first greeting of him, but it would have taken more
optimism than Allingham possessed to have dis-
covered much cordiality in her manner when they
had last met. To Sophy, his turning up again so soon
might savour of the conduct of a person who comes to a
party without the advantage of having received an
invitation. In the present instance, moreover, the
invitation appeared to have been purposely withheld.
Yet he had always intended to spend the winter in
Florence, and he did not see why he should allow
Sophy's caprices to alter his plans.

He closed the shutters and descended the stairs upon
carpets whose luxurious velvet was at present hidden
by economical brown linen. In the off-season every-
thing and everyone seemed to be encased in brown
linen — whether it was the carpets, or the chairs, or
the dark-eyed boy who controlled the elevator, and
whose smile was so radiant that Allingham felt guilty
of an impoliteness in refusing his services.

He went out into the vivid sunlight, which still, at the

*end of September, had something of the heat of summer
in it, and turned down the long shady arcade of the
Uffizi Palace. He mounted the many steps leading
to the picture galleries, and passed through a turnstile
at the top into a world of gentle madonnas and angels.
In the emptiness of the long, still corridors and rooms,
whose pictured walls seemed to welcome him dreamily
and beautifully, he wandered, content. A music and

138 THE GENTLE LOVER

rapture of colour were in the air, and sank refreshingly
into his spirit through byways of senses a little fatigued
by the long dusty railway journey.

He passed from one favourite to another, from the
lovely Annunciation of Simone, hanging in the corridor,
to the less significant Annunciation attributed to
Botticelli, where the angel seems poised in some mo-
ment of arrested flight, like a great coloured butterfly
upon the marble floor. There was wonder and signi-
ficance enough in the Magnificat hanging close by,
in the Birth of Venus : — and gold everywhere ; gold in
the hair, in the wings of angels ; gold in the very grass
and trees ; and everywhere the poetry of motion. . . .

He paused before a little Annunciation, by Lorenzo
di Credi, and decided that it, too, had a sweetness of
its own, a sweetness tempered by an exquisite fastidi-
ousness. It had a grace, a lightness of touch ! Ailing-
ham liked the warm bright colour, the embrowned
flesh-tints, the simple design. He liked the curving
line always noticeable in Lorenzo's pictures, and
especially noticeable in the extreme plumpness of
the children, to whom the slightly drooping corners of
their mouths lends a last refinement of charm.

He wandered from room to room, in the happiest
of moods, ready to find beauty where he had never
found it before. He declared to himself that modern
art had little to set beside these pictures, and regretted
not having a companion to argue the point with.
But companion or no, argument or no, he lingered till
the closing hour had struck.

;

thij

*

THE GENTLE LOVER 139

Coming out into the Piazza della Signoria, he made
his way in the direction of the Duomo, through narrow
streets, and with no very distinct object in view, unless
it was to gaze at Giotto's tower, which, in its coloured
gaiety, more than ever struck him as resembling some
huge Chinese toy transplanted by a Ginn of the Arabian
Nights. He was conscious, poor Allingham, of not
admiring this structure so much as he ought to, and
when passing through the square he always stopped
to gaze at it, in the hope that the overwhelming beauty
it possessed for everybody else might in some fortunate
hour flash upon him. That hour had not yet struck
apparently, and what he arrived at was merely the
old conclusion that he preferred the broad simplicity

d bareness of many a rough, unfinished^ brick
fa£ade, not to be mentioned in the same breath. Such
things — things like the fact of his preferring several

lier artists, lamentably deficient in tactile values,
to the great master, Giotto, whose Madonna in the
Academy, for instance, seemed to him to be even slightly
vulgar — were not to be spoken aloud ; and Allingham,
indeed, pondered them in silence as he pursued his
way.

He had turned up the Via Tornabuoni with the
intention of buying another volume of the works of
Mr. Berenson, whose re-attributions and naive theories
fascinated him, when he nearly collided with a red-
haired boy coming out of Alinari's shop and still
gazing at the photographs in the window. They both
stopped, and the red boy raised his hat, smiling with

140 THE GENTLE LOVER

that peculiar charm which was the main constituent
of such doubtful personal beauty as might be conceded
to him. He even laughed, a little, happy laugh, as he
held out his hand. " I'm awfully glad you've come,
you know," he said, balancing himself first on one foot
and then on the other. " Somehow, I didn't half think
you would — at least not so soon. I sent you a lovely
picture-postcard yesterday."

" To Bruges ? I didn't get it."

They walked on down the street in the direction of
the river, and Allingham forgot about his Berenson.
" How are you all ? " he inquired.

" We're flourishing, thanks. Mamma and Sylvie
and Graf have gone shopping. I've only just left
them. Aunt Sophy is at home."

u Where are you staying ? "

44 In rooms at the other side of the river, quite close
to the Pitti Palace. Come back with me now and have
tea. Aunt Sophy will be delighted to see you ; she is
all alone."

Allingham was not so sure of the delight, but it
might be better to see Sophy first, as he would be able
to judge from her manner whether he had done right or
wrong in following them. He accepted the invitation
therefore, and they turned to the left, by the Lun-
garno.

44 This is where I have put up," he said, as they
reached his hotel. " Will you wait for a moment ;
there is something I want to get ? "

He pushed aside the linen portiere that kept the

THE GENTLE LOVER 141

interior cool, and disappeared behind it. When he
emerged, Brian was sitting on the low river wall,
kicking his heels against the stones.

44 This is for you," said Allingham, producing the
camera he had bought in Paris.

Brian's face flushed. "But "

*' I hope it isn't too late. I mean, I hope you haven't
already got one."

44 No ; but— Thanks awfully . . . It's frightfully
good of you. I don't know what to say."

44 It doesn't seem an occasion for speech," Allingham
replied, pensively. " I happened to see the thing in
a shop on my way home from the Zoo. It was really
the influence of the giraffe. He was an excellent
and delightful giraffe, with an ingratiating manner."

44 And he reminded you of me ? That was nice of
him. . . . It's what I've been wanting for ages,"
he added. 44 1 never pass a shop where they sell them

ithout going in and pricing about twenty."

44 Do you know how to work it ? The man assured

e it was perfectly simple."

" Oh, I can work it all right."

14 Well, I hope it's the kind you wanted. It would
have been wiser, though not so surprising, to have let
you choose one for yourself."

44 I'm very glad you didn't. I would never have
dared to choose one nearly so good. "

Allingham laughed. They had passed the Ponte
Vecchio, and on their left rose the rugged square of
the Pitti Palace.

142 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Along here," said Brian, directing his companion
to the right ; and a minute or two later they paused
before a tall white house. " Here we are. This is
Casa Grimshaw."

CHAPTER XVIII

" I SUPPOSE you are surprised to see me again, Sophy,"
Allingham apologised, when they were alone. He
accepted the cup of tea she had poured out for him,
and took a low chair close to the table where she sat.

" You speak as if you feared the surprise might not
be a pleasant one, Bennet."

Allingham looked out into the square garden, where
some pigeons had alighted on the basin of a waterless
fountain. A large black cat watched them with
benevolent eyes and a twitching tail.

I don't know that I've any right to count on its
ing particularly pleasant," he said at last.

Not even after all my kindness ? " Miss Kilronan
suggested, smiling.

What I want you to do is to be kind in the future,
Sophy. The past is over."

" And what I want you to do, is not to spoil the
children. I told you that before ; yet to-day you come

rthem laden with gifts ! "
"Why shouldn't I? I like young people. . . .
tiey have not travelled so far towards the west."
" What does that mean exactly, Bennet ? "
143

144 THE GENTLE LOVER

" It means whatever you like, dear Sophy."

" That you think I have become a very worldly
person — isn't that it ? "

" I hope not. You used to be the only person I
could turn to for sympathy when I was feeling un-
worldly."

44 One can't go on doling out sympathy all one's
life." She was silent a moment. Then she said ;
44 1 wonder if it ever occurred to you to ask yourself
whom I had to turn to ? "

44 Hadn't you me ? " he suggested, penitently. 44 1
suppose I was horribly selfish," he added, as she made
no reply.

44 You sometimes were, a little."

44 But I always looked upon you as a tower of
strength ! "

44 It was a good working hypothesis."

He fancied there was a shade of bitterness in her
voice, and he was surprised. 44 Let me be perfectly
honest, Sophy. I feel that I must have done something
to offend you, but really I don't know what it is. Tell
me."

She looked at him long, earnestly, till gradually a
softer expression came into her eyes. 44 It is nothing,
Bennet, except that I have grown old and sour, and
have not your capacity for renewing my youth in the
youth of others."

44 We are both older."

She sighed. 44 No, you are not. That is what I
feel. That is my tragedy." She laughed, but some-

THE GENTLE LOVER 145

how her laugh was even more melancholy than her
sigh. " You will always be a boy, and always live
in a fairy-tale — a very delightful thing to do ; but
one that I can't imitate."

She seemed a little tired, and he wondered if she
wanted him to go.

" You have never really told me what you did
during all those years after you left home," she said
slowly.

" One of the things I did was to write to you."

44 That didn't last long."

44 Only because I had nothing to say — just as I have
nothing to tell you now. There is not so much in
life as I used to think. There has not been much
in my own life, at any rate — except the mere outward
routine that you already know of. Before I was
twenty I had selected a few ideas, a few prejudices,
a few desires ; and ever since, I have simply stared
at them very hard — that is all."

" Is it all ? '!

44 Very nearly. The only quite clear duty that nature
impresses upon people like me, I haven't fulfilled."

44 What is that ? "

44 Our duty to the next generation."
4 Yet I used to look upon you as a genius ! "

44 It was very kind of you. ... At least I know
you meant it kindly, Sophy, though the only genius
I ever met was a particularly odious person."

It had grown dusk, and he had risen to his feet. But
she kept him still. 44 Won't you dine with us,

K

146 THE GENTLE LOVER

Bennet ? " she asked, and he knew from her tone that
she really wanted him to stay, though he could not
understand her mood.

He hesitated, but next moment he heard Sylvie's
voice, and then Brian calling out eagerly, " Look what
Mr. Allingham has brought me ! "

He resumed his seat.

CHAPTER XIX

" DON'T you want me to bring Graf in, Mr. Ailing-
ham ? " Sylvie asked, when they had come back,
after dinner, to the drawing-room. " Just to see
how he has improved," she added ; and Allingham
having expressed a suitable interest in this example of
canine advancement, she went in search of her protege.

Presently a patter of feet was heard in the passage,
the door opened, and Graf entered, smiling apologeti-
cally as he wagged his tail heavily against the legs
of chairs and tables. " He will give you a paw, Mr.
Allingham, if you ask him to," said Sylvie. " Won't
you, Grafums ? "

Allingham shook hands with the obliging animal,
who had sat down on the end of Miss Kilronan's dress,
but had promptly been dislodged from that position.
He bore the rebuff good-humouredly, wandering over
to his mistress, who put her arms round his shaggy neck
and began to coax him. " This is far nicer than draw-
ing horrid carts about Bruges, isn't it Grafums ?
Tell Mr. Allingham whose old pet you are. Tell him
who's going to take your photograph to-morrow.
Uncle Brian, isn't it ? "

H7

148 THE GENTLE LOVER

Graf wagged his tail self-consciously, glancing at the
visitor with his absurd smile.

"Do you think of staying long in Florence, Mrs,
Grimshaw ? " the visitor inquired.

Mrs. Grimshaw at once became vague. " I don't
quite know. The children think we should stay at
least two months. . . . Brian dear, I haven't seen
you studying to-day. Mr. Allingham will excuse you.
I'm afraid this moving about from place to place
is getting you into idle habits."

Brian was lounging in a low chair, his hands deep
in his pockets. He sighed as he listened to his mother's
words. " If you were a philosopher, mamma, you
would recognise in quietude the intensest kind of
activity. I have so often pointed that out to you !
Why don't you believe it ? It would show, too, a
pleasing confidence in your son, which at present is
lacking."

" We expect Mr. Grimshaw to come out to us here
in a week or two," the lady went on, turning her faded
prettiness to Allingham. " He says he will come as
soon as he can spare the time. He will bring a tutor
for Brian with him, I hope ; but it seems very difficult
to get anybody suitable — I'm sure I don't know
why."

" It's because your standard is so high. I could
get a tutor for myself easily enough."

" I want somebody to teach me Italian," Sylvie
declared. >4 The young priest who took us all over
the Annunziata was quite nice."

THE GENTLE LOVER 149

This suggested a really brilliant idea to Mrs. Grim-
shaw. c You should take singing lessons. One always
reads of people coming to Italy to study music, and
now you are here, you may as well take what advan-
tages you can."

44 Do you sing, Miss Sylvie ? " Allingham asked.
" I have never heard you."

" You could sing something now, dear, couldn't
you ? "

" No ; I'm as hoarse as a crow. And Mr. Allingham
is very critical."

" I think you might risk it," he murmured.

4 Warble child ; make passionate our sense of
hearing,' " Brian encouraged her. He had risen from
his chair and was wandering about the room. 4t Some-
body has taken my books. How can one keep up an
enthusiasm for study, when one's books are forever
disappearing ? "

" I put them into your bedroom," said his mother.
44 You leave them lying about everywhere. I wish you
would learn to be a little tidier."

" Do you really want me to sing, Mr. Allingham,
or is it only politeness ? " Sylvie asked.

" I really want it."

" Then you must come and help me to look for a
song." She went to the piano and began to turn over a
heap of music on a table beside it.

44 1 think you might leave poor Mr. Allingham in
peace," Miss Kilronan interposed.

Sylvie smiled back at him over her §houl4err 44 Mr?

150 THE GENTLE LOVER

Allingham, I leave you in peace. To-night you
are allowed to be lazy, on account of your travels.
But if I sing, you must promise to take me some-
where to morrow. I can't get the others to walk,
and I hate driving behind miserable, half-starved
horses."

44 We'll walk then," Allingham promised.

She sat down at the piano, and Allingham, lying back
in his chair, watched her as she sang. A tall lamp
beside her, lit up the beauty of her face, which he could
see only in profile. The songs she sang were simple
and tuneful, probably not very good ; but her voice
was soft and clear, and to Allingham, who had no great
knowledge of music, it was delightful to listen to her.
As he sat there he thought how pleasant it would be to
have somebody to sing to him like this every evening,
and a vision of life, tranquil, intimate, secure, rose
before him. A woman seated at a piano ; her hands
on the white and black keys ; her face beautiful in
the soft light of a lamp ; himself listening. . . . And
to have that vision stretching on and on ; to have
others akin to it, so that they might embrace every
hour of his life. ... All the pleasure he had looked
forward to when setting out for Europe, the pleasure
that was to come from the contemplation of art, from
the romance of strange old cities — all that seemed now
singularly poor and thin. . . .

He sank into a reverie, unconscious of Sophy Kil-
ronan's gaze, which was fixed upon him. ..." Noth-
ing except what is human matters," he muttered tp

THE GENTLE LOVER 151

himself, " whether it is in this world, or in a dream of
another."

And Sophy, watching him, wondered what was
passing through his mind.

CHAPTER XX

THAT night, instead of going home, he strolled down a
narrow street to the Piazza della Signoria. The empty
square was silent in the moonlight, and in the shadow
of the Loggia dei Lanzi the forms of statues gleamed
dimly. The little caf e* to which he had sometimes come
was now closed. There was not a soul abroad so far as
he could see save himself. Allingham sat down on the
stone ledge below the wall and lit a last pipe. Before
him rose the dark, impressive pile of the Palazzo
Vecchio, with its square tower set oddly to one side.
He tried to reconstruct, with the help of the lonely
night, a picture of the past, to re-people the square
with figures from old times, to imagine some famous
nocturnal masque, like Piero di Cosimo's Triumph of
Death, which he had read about that morning in Vasari.
But his efforts were unavailing. The masque, he was
sure, had been, like most deliberate excursions into the
macabre, a little childish, and the famous Piero was
probably a silly old ass. Allingham recalled the ridicu-
lous story of how he had lived upon eggs, which he had
cooked in batches of fifties to save time. Somehow,
he felt out of sympathy with the old world. The

152

THE GENTLE LOVER

153

visions appropriate to the hour and the place refused
to arise, and he was haunted instead by a picture of a
lamp-lit room, and of a girl singing. All Piero's
bogies seemed of a sudden infinitely foolish. He got
up, and as he smoked paced slowly round and round the
square — that famous square in which Savonarola had
been burned. But his thoughts were not of Savonarola ;
they were of Sylvie and to-morrow.

CHAPTER XXI

IN the early afternoon they mounted the steep winding
path that leads to San Miniato.

" I hope I'm not tiring you, Mr. Allingham," Sylvie
said. " We might just as easily have taken a tram ? "

" How should a young person who spends half the
night wandering romantically about the streets be
tired ? " Allingham asked vivaciously. " At the very
most he can be only slightly dusty." He had winced
ever so little, all the same, at her remark, which had
seemed to place him definitely with the older generation,
the generation of her mother and Aunt Sophy.

" I believe you are romantic, Mr. Allingham, really ;
although you like to make fun of everything."

" Make fun of everything ! " Allingham exclaimed.

" Yes, you know you do."

" My fun must be of an involuntary order. I had
no idea even of its existence. . . . But of course I am
romantic ; also sentimental, and everything else that is
old-fashioned."

" I'm not to blame for your midnight ramble this
time at any rate," Sylvie declared.

"No. I have come to the conclusion that these

THE GENTLE LOVER 155

things are largely a question of ghosts. Old towns are
full of ghosts, and they roam abroad after dusk and put
ridiculous ideas into foolish heads."

" Is that how they treated you last night ? "

" Exactly. They led me mooning about the streets,
whispering that I was young enough to permit myself
such imprudences. It was only when I tried to get out
of bed this morning that I discovered how basely they
had lied."

" And what else did they whisper ? " Sylvie asked.

" Some very odd things about the present being
better than the past. I'm not sure that they didn't
even suggest this pilgrimage to San Miniato. Should
you think they did ? "

" No, I shouldn't. . . . We expected you this morn-
ing. Brian wanted to take your photograph. He took
us all."

" I wasn't very far away. I was in the Pitti."

" All alone ? "

" All alone."

" Poor Mr. Allingham."

They had emerged on the Piazzale Michelangiolo,
and had paused before the famous David.

" Do you like him ? " Allingham asked, with his
slow smile.

" Amn't I supposed to ? "

" Of course you are ; at least I expect so, though
I never know about these things."

" Does that mean that you don't like him ? "

Allingham considered. " No ; I think it only means

156 THE GENTLE LOVER

that his head seems rather big. Have we any justifica-
tion for that in the Scriptures, Miss Sylvie ? . . . One
can have tea here," he added, " and look at the David
all the time. Should you care to do that ? "

" Perhaps we'd better get our climb over."

" It's not much further."

Sylvie appeared to be reflecting upon something.
" I don't believe you're a good person to look at things
with, Mr. Allingham," she brought out at last. " I'm
sure you're prejudiced ; and I don't know enough
about them myself to see when you are and when you
aren't."

" You're quite mistaken, Miss Sylvie. I'm the most
unbiassed person of your acquaintance."

" But I want to see the things that are really famous."

4 You're like Mr. Halvard. He has gone all the way
to Chillon to see the ' seven pillars of gothic mould.' "

>l You are always making fun of poor Mr. Halvard.
But he's quite right. I don't want to go home and have
people asking me if I've seen this and that and the other,
and find that I haven't. I believe you like to like
things all by yourself. Now don't you ? "

" Of course I do ; but I'll promise faithfully never to
pass a double star without at least telling you of its
magnitude. Is that fair ? "

" I suppose it is, if you keep your promise."

" In the church of San Miniato there is a miraculous
crucifix ; the merciful knight story, you know. There
are also frescoes by Spinello Aretino."
what have we come to see ? "

THE GENTLE LOVER 157

" Why, both these splendid sights, of course."

" I'm sure we haven't ; only now you're frightened
to tell me."

" There is an Annunciation by Alessio Baldovinetti
that is not bad."

44 1 knew there must be something of that sort."

" Of what sort, Miss Sylvie ? Don't condemn it
unseen. Alessio happens to be an artist in whom I
am rather interested, because he started his career in
exactly the same way as I did."

" In what way ? "

44 His father wanted him to go into business, and
Alessio wanted to be a painter, that was just what
happened in my case. The only difference is in the
subsequent behaviour of the parents, which I am sorry
to say is all to the disadvantage of mine. . . . Here we
are at the gate of Michel Angelo's fortress. Two
stars, Miss Sylvie."

44 You needn't think that is going to prevent me from
looking at it, Mr. Allingham, for it isn't."

They rang a bell, and were admitted to the courtyard,
through which they passed. Before them, full in the
afternoon sun, rose the striped black and yellow marble
fa$ade of the church, with its huge bright mosaic of
Christ Enthroned. Below, in the valley, the gray
towers and red domes of Florence stood up above a mass
of gray and brown houses, like tall flowers in a crowded
garden. On all sides of the city were sparsely wooded
hills, with white villas gleaming amid olive and cypress.
The landscape, under the open blue sky, had a beauty

158 THE GENTLE LOVER

of its own, but it was a beauty, to Allingham's sense,
without atmosphere, without imagination, beginning
and ending in itself, dependent for its charm almost
wholly on the gray crumbling buildings that here and
there dotted the hillsides.

" It is difficult to imagine the people of such a country
being what they were," he murmured, as, from the
terrace in front of the church, they looked down upon
the scene. "It is difficult to imagine such a country
haunted by spirits, unless they are the spirits of de-
ceased market-gardeners."

" I think it is lovely," said Sylvie, reproachfully.

" No, no, that is not the word. Come and I will
show you something that is really lovely, and you will
see the difference."

They entered the church, and he led her to the side
chapel were Alessio's half-ruined Annunciation still
lingers with a delicate and ghostly life, though worms
have eaten, and are eating, holes in the wood on which
it was painted. What remains is but the soul of the
original picture, something faint and flickering as the
echo of a note of music. The beautiful brown-skinned
angel, with his solemn face and fair neatly-braided hair,
kneels in a grassy meadow. His wings, eyed like a
peacock's wings, are ready to lift him into strong flight,
and his hands are folded on his breast. A red band is
bound across his forehead. Only a streak of faint gold
still lingers in his dress, to tell of its old glory, but his
face and his beautiful folded hands are almost uninjured.
The whole painting has an adorable innocence and

THE GENTLE LOVER

159

simplicity. Allingham felt, though she said nothing,
that the girl beside him was somehow missing it. She
looked at it attentively — too attentively— as if trying
to discover what he saw in it ; but it was obvious that
she would never know. He felt disappointed, and even
regretted having shown the picture to her.

" Let us go out and sit on the terrace," he said. " We
can look at the Spinelloes another day."

" I'm afraid I'm not an apt pupil," Sylvie murmured,
apologetically. " I know I always like the wrong
things, but I can't help it, can I ? "

" Of course it is absurd to expect everybody to like
the same things." He smiled. " Still, one does
expect it," he added.

" But you wouldn't like me to pretend to admire
pictures that I don't admire ? "

" Of course not."

" Have there been any great artists among
women ? "

" I don't know. ... There is Emily Bronte — and
the somewhat remote Sappho. ..."

" I meant painters. They were writers. Of course
I know women can write just as well as men. ... I
once began a novel myself."

Allingham laughed.

44 1 don't see why you should be amused ! In fact I
think it's rather rude of you. I only wrote four
chapters. Then something happened — I forget what.

Oh yes, it was the tennis tournament ! I put my

manuscript away and forgot all about it. Just before

160 THE GENTLE LOVER

we left home I discovered it and read it over. . . , The
queer thing was that I hated writing it ; it bored me
excruciatingly."

" Why did you do it then ? "

" From mercenary motives. I had been reading a
novel about a girl who had written a story and made
thousands of pounds. She only wanted enough to pay
her brother's college expenses, but she made a fortune,
and became famous all over the world. Wouldn't you
love to live in a novel, Mr. Allingham ? Everything
turns out so nicely in the end, and exciting things are
always happening."

" I don't know that I want anything very exciting
to happen," Allingham laughed. " When may we
expect this work to appear, Miss Sylvie ? "

" What work ? Mine ? I'm not going to finish it at
all. I got over all the story part far too quickly. I
don't see how it could possibly go on for more than
another two chapters. The heroine is engaged already."

" But can't she break it off ? When I was a youngster
I used to weep over my failures. It was a damp and
dreary struggle, for I never had time to do anything
decent."

" You have time now."

44 Now ? "

44 Well, haven't you ? "

Allingham shook his head. 44 It is too late now."

44 But why?"

44 1 am too old," he said.

His dark eyes rested upon her. Sitting there on the

THE GENTLE LOVER 161

broad white terrace in the afternoon sun, she made a
picture that delighted him. The white of her dress
against the yellowish white of the stone, the setting sun
casting a rich glow upon her face, making the fair skin
almost transparent, her black-gloved hands folded in
her lap, her gray serious eyes, under the wide brow,
gazing out at the hills towards Fiesole — these were
things that would have required a greater skill than his
to render, yet he could see in them the inspiration for
something fine.

The girl was silent for what appeared to him to be
a long time. Then, when she did speak, her words
astonished him. " Are you religious, Mr. Allingham ? "
she asked softly. " You do not mind my asking such
a question, do you ? I don't know whether it is right
or not."

" Why should I mind, Miss Sylvie ? " he answered.

" Why do you call me Miss Sylvie ? "

" I shan't do so in future."

" And you will answer my question ? "

Allingham hesitated. " It is not an easy question to
answer," he said, at last, in a tone which he tried to
make as grave as hers. " In the ordinary sense of the
word I don't know that I am very religious."

" Why ? " Her eyes rested gently on his.

He shook his head. " On the other hand I seem
to have a most illogical affection for all the things I have
ceased to believe in. I mean, any kind of militant
scepticism jars upon me."

" Naturally."

L

162 THE GENTLE LOVER

" But I don't know that it is natural," he smiled.
" Why should I object to hear people speak disrespect-
fully of what I have ceased to believe in ? I'm
afraid it could be reduced to a mere matter of
sentiment."

" And — aren't you sorry for being like that ? "

" Sorry that I haven't a more definite creed ? J>
He smiled again. " Well, you see, I'm afraid I don't
think about it a great deal. . . . Besides, I have a
little religion of my own, about making the most of
this present life."

" But not selfishly ? "

" Some people might call it selfish."

" What do you mean by c making the most of
life ' ? "

Allingham laughed out. " Living with the best
people, in the pleasantest surroundings. I am not
fond of walking through slums, for instance ; nor do
I find so much charm in the unfortunate and unedu-
cated as in the fortunate and cultivated. All this, I
know, sounds dreadfully brutal and callous ; but you
asked me to tell you."

Sylvie had listened with an immense seriousness.
" Oh, yes, I would rather you spoke quite frankly.
Only, if there are unfortunate people, isn't it the duty
of those who are more fortunate to help them as far as
they can ? "

Allingham marvelled at the magic of youth, which
could cast a glamour over the dullest platitudes.
" I admit that," he said gently. " I can't see any way

THE GENTLE LOVER 163

out of it, in fact. I'm sorry to say that I solve the
problem by leaving it to others."

" What I meant more when I began to talk about
these things," said the girl, slowly, " was something
rather different. It was more like this : — If you wanted
a thing very much, would you pray for it ? Would you
think it any use praying for it ? "

Allingham had been praying that she wouldn't ask
him this question, yet he answered, " I'm afraid not."

Sylvie unclasped her hands and plucked a blade
of grass that had found root-hold in a cranny in the
wall, but she said nothing further, and presently they
rose to go. As they made their way down the dusty,
zig-zag path, they talked little. Once the girl stopped
to gather some delicately-tinted leaves growing by the
road-side, and before they separated she gave them to
Allingham with her bright, soft smile. He carried the
leaves carefully back with him, but they were already
faded when he reached his hotel.

CHAPTER XXII

HE laid them down on his table, and when he had
opened wide the shutters, which had been closed to the
heat of the day, he leaned out to enjoy the breeze.
The last rays of sunlight stretched in blood-red streaks
along the yellow, sluggish water. He took up a
novel which he had bought that morning. In this work
there was a character, middle-aged, tedious, pompous,
absurd — an uncle of the heroine. Allingham had found
one or two scenes in which he had appeared distinctly
entertaining, but now, at a turn of the page, he sud-
denly discovered him to be some six years younger
than himself. He stopped reading, and sat gazing
thoughtfully at the fading light. . . .

After dinner he was again alone at his open window.
Night had closed in, and below the Ponte Santa Trinita
lights glittered, shining down into the black, oily water,
like long-stemmed, golden lilies. The pale houses
opposite were broken with squares of ruddy light.
Allingham smoked a cigar and reflected. The middle-
aged uncle of his novel glided about these cogitations
with a malicious leer upon his face as he whispered
derisively, " I'm six years younger than you. I'm six

164

THE GENTLE LOVER 165

years younger than you." Allingham found himself
wondering if he looked his age, and then was disgusted
at the fatuity of such speculations. He could not see
the faded leaves that lay upon the table, but he knew
they were there. And Sylvie had given them to him ;
he knew that too. . . .

Through the night there rose the twang of a stringed
instrument. Allingham lit another cigar, but still sat
in darkness. All at once the sound of mandolines and
guitars burst upon the night with a splash of sensuous
melody, shallow, yet curiously vivid and expressive.
An orange moon was creeping up the sky, and the
glittering music seemed strangely fitted to the place
and hour. The acoustic properties of the Lungarno
are marvellous, and the voices of a man and a woman
now soared triumphantly above the thrumming of the
instruments in a rapturous love-duet. Allingham
listened to its hackneyed phrases, that were yet so
thrillingly dramatic. The man's voice, especially, had
an impassioned vibration, a power and sweetness. If
only he would not clear his throat and spit between his
lyrical outbursts. Allingham went downstairs to have
a closer look at the wonderful singer, and discovered
him to be a fat person with a squint. He wore a small
battered straw hat on the back of his head, and he gave
Allingham a dazzling smile, and a " Grazie, signore," in
return for his lira.

And Allingham strolled on down to the Ponte
Vecchio and across that old bridge in the direction of
Casa Grimshaw.

CHAPTER XXIII

THAT night Sylvie, instead of going to sleep, found her-
self lying in the darkness, thinking of her conversation
with Mr. Allingham, trying to elaborate and complete
the ideas that what he had told her of himself had
suggested. Had she been wrong, she wondered, to
speak to him about religion ? Did she really know him
well enough for that ? And she had spoken to him also
of her silly novel ! Not that it mattered ; but she had
never breathed a word about it to anybody else, and
somehow it seemed to show that they must have be-
come very intimate. She closed her eyes and began
to count one — two — three, up to a thousand, but this
employment only bored her without making her in the
least sleepy. She got up, put on a dressing-gown and a
pair of fluffy slippers, and went to the drawing-room
to look for a book. As she passed Brian's door it
occurred to her that he might be awake, so she knocked
softly. The answer came in a sort of drowsy grunt, so
drowsy that it rilled Sylvie with remorse : " Who's
there? Come in."

She opened the door. " It's me — Sylvie."
" What's the matter ? What do you want ? "

166

THE GENTLE LOVER 167

" Nothing, Brian dear. . . Only, I couldn't go to
sleep."

44 What a splendid plan to wake up everybody else,
then ! Have you been round the others ? "

44 Don't be horrid, Brian. . . . I'll go away if you
don't want me."

44 Oh, you can stay now you've come — that is, if you
think it won't create a precedent." His voice growled
at her good-humouredly through the darkness, and
Sylvie sighed.

44 How unsympathetic you are ! If you had come
to me "

44 It would have been ever so different, wouldn't it ?
Well, switch on the light."

44 No, I don't want any light. I'm only going to give
you a kiss, and then go back."

44 You'd better go back first. Oh, I say, don't be so
silly," he grumbled, as he felt her lips touch his
cheek.

Sylvie sat down in a chair beside the bed.

44 1 thought you said you were going back ? " the red
boy murmured, after a pause. 44 1 hope you're not
sitting on my clothes."

44 I'll not do them any harm. Did Mr. Allingham
ever tell you about his wanting to be an artist when he
was young, Brian ? "

44 No."

44 He wasn't allowed to be one. He told me all about
it this afternoon. His father made him go into busi-
ness. Then he got delicate and had to live abroad.

168 THE GENTLE LOVER

He was only a boy like you at the time, or perhaps a
year or two older."

" Is that what you came in to tell me ? "

" Why won't you talk, Brian ? I think it's lovely
sitting here together just like this, with no one to
hear us."

" What's lovely about it ? "

" Oh, you are horrid."

Brian laughed. " Well, fire away. I'll listen as
long as I can keep awake."

Sylvie paused. " Don't you think it queer that
Aunt Sophy should have kept his photograph all these
years ? " she presently said.

" Whose photograph ? " asked Brian, drowsily.

" You know quite well whose," said Sylvie, giving
him a little shake.

" What's queer about it, then ? Do you think she
ought to have burnt it ? "

Sylvie reflected. " It's not, somehow, like Aunt
Sophy, is it ? "

" What isn't like her ? "

" Oh, Brian, don't be so stupid ! "

" Aunt Sophy's all right."

" I know she's all right. But she's so — hard, some-
times— and they're so different from each other ! "

14 What's that got to do with it ? Why can't you say
what you're really thinking about, instead of every-
thing else ? "

"I am thinking about the other things," Sylvie
returned. " Sometimes I wonder if Aunt Sophy

THE GENTLE LOVER 169

really cared for him — if there was ever anything be-
tween them ? There are little things I've noticed now
and then, haven't you ? "

" No ; but then I haven't your observant eye.
And if you say they were only kids "

" Well, you might have."

" Might have what ? Observed ? "

" I'm not joking. It did occur to me."

" Well, I don't see that it's our business, in any
case."

" You're very boyish, Brian dear." Sylvie felt for
his hand on the bed-clothes and took it between her
own two hands, where he allowed it to remain. " I'm
not really as romantic as you are ; only you think you
oughtn't to talk about such things."

" I don't think any such nonsense. I would talk
about them fast enough if I had anything to say.
What I don't understand is why you can't tell me what
you think, and have done with it."

But this made Sylvie hesitate. " I don't think any-
thing," she decided softly.

" Oh, Sylvie ! "

" Suppose they were to make it up again."

" But make what up ? It seems to me you're doing
all the making up ! "

She pushed his hand away. " You're only pretend-
ing not to understand. You know very well what I
mean."

Brian laughed. " I don't, really. All I know is
that you've invented a story about them, and for some

170 THE GENTLE LOVER

reason want me to guess what it is. I'm not in Mr.
Allingham's confidence ; I wasn't out with him this
afternoon ; and I wasn't dreaming about either him or
Aunt Sophy when you woke me up."

" I didn't wake you up, and I haven't invented any
story ; I only made a suggestion."

" That they have been in love with each other for
about thirty years without realising it. Then suddenly
Mr. Allingham has a bright idea, and takes the next
boat home."

" Well, you know neither of them has ever married,"
said Sylvie, dreamily.

" You ought to make up cinematograph plots, Sylvie.
I believe that must be the hidden talent we've all been
waiting so long and so anxiously to discover. You
get paid for them, you know — the plots, I mean —
and what you've invented about Mr. Allingham and
Aunt Sophy is exactly the kind of thing they want.
You'd better send Mr. Allingham to the goldfields.
Goldfields are particularly popular. Then one day he
finds a nugget — about the size of a turnip — so that they
can see it from the back row. He comes to the camp
and takes an old photograph album out of a box.
He has never parted with this album even in his
hardest days, though he once went so far as to ask
his ' uncle ' how much he would give him on it. But
the reply was discouraging. . . The sun is setting. The
band begins to play softly. . . . It's damned good."

" It might be true all the same," said Sylvie. " And
you needn't swear ; it isn't really manly."

THE GENTLE LOVER 171

" Isn't it just ? Well, I vote we leave the rest till
the morning. You'll probably have developed it a
good deal more by then."

" You're not a bit nice, Brian. Some day, when you
fall in love yourself, or somebody falls in love with
you "

" What will happen ? You haven't fallen in love,
have you ? "

"You'll look at things differently. Good-night."
She stooped over him and kissed him once more.

" Here, I say ! " cried Brian indignantly. " You've
nearly deafened me ! Just right on my ear ! "

Sylvie laughed hysterically. " I couldn't help it.
It's so dark, I had to guess. I didn't do it on purpose
really, Brian."

Her kinsman grunted unbelievingly as she left him
in peace to return to his slumbers.

CHAPTER XXIV

ONE afternoon Allingham was crossing the river after
spending an hour with Masaccio's frescoes in the
Brancacci Chapel, when he saw in front of him the
familiar figure of Mr. Halvard. The young clergyman
was walking in the same direction as himself, but much
more slowly ; in fact, a moment or two after Allingham
had caught sight of him, he came altogether to a halt,
and stood gazing down the Via Tornabuoni with an
interest which that street seemed scarcely to merit, and
which implied that he had arrived but recently in
Florence. Dangling from a strap passed over his
shoulder was the well-known opera-glass in its shiny
black leather case, without which appendage Allingham
had never yet seen him venture forth, even were it only
as far as the post-office to buy stamps. As he came
up with him now he felt a strong inclination to clap
him on the back, but he recollected Mr. Halvard's keen
sense of propriety, and refrained. In the direction of
familiarity he risked nothing further than the laying of
a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder ; an
action which had the effect of making him jump.

" Ah, how do you do ? " Mr. Halvard smiled,

172

THE GENTLE LOVER 173

with a touch of austerity that revealed his distaste for
boisterous salutes.

" I'm flourishing, thanks. How long have you been
here ? "

" Not very long. ... In fact, I've just arrived."

This speech was somehow characteristic enough for
Allingham, apparently, to find it amusing. "So I
thought. Have you discovered an hotel yet ? "

" No ; I left my baggage at the station, so that I
might be more free to look for a suitable place. It
saves the expense of a carriage, and also I find it
easier to get away if the rooms are not just what one
wants."

" That's very knowing of you. fc I never thought of

(such a dodge. What about having a look at my hotel ;
it's quite close ? "
" I shall be delighted to stay there if it is suitable."
Allingham laughed. " Well, don't commit yourself.
But come round and have a look at it."
" How warm it keeps," Mr. Halvard suggested, as
they walked on.

' Yes. Not too warm for me though." He felt
inclined to add that if Mr. Halvard would only adopt
a more secular costume, instead of clinging to the in-
signia of his profession, he would probably find himself
more comfortable ; but he was sure the young clergy-
man had definite views upon this subject. " That's the
Ponte Vecchio in front of you," he said. " The place
where the jeweller's shops are."
Mr. Halvard paused to gaze upon the Ponte Vecchio.

174 THE GENTLE LOVER

"It is one of the noted bridges, is it not ? " he in-
quired.

" Yes ; it's on most of the postcards. And here is
our hotel."

Mr. Halvard entered and, accompanied by Allingham
and the manager, proceeded to look at rooms. He
examined several, hesitating between one facing a
court at the back, at eight lire, and one looking on the
river, at ten. Finally he declared for the former.

" I think you are making a mistake," Allingham
said, when they were alone. " It's worth the two lire
extra to have a decent view ; and, besides, the room is
better."

" But it is two lire a day."

" Even so ; you'll find it much pleasanter. It's
delightful looking out at those old houses and the
river."

Mr. Halvard wavered. Finally he rang the bell and
asked the manager to show him the front room again.
This second inspection took longer, and it ended in Mr.
Halvard's keeping to his original choice. " The river
seems to be of a rather bilious colour," he remarked, in
explanation.

Knowing Mr. Halvard's circumstances, Allingham
was somewhat surprised, and he was still more surprised
when, half an hour later, the young clergyman tapped
at his door and, coming in, said : "I thought perhaps
you would allow me to sit here, if it does not disturb
you ? "

" Not in the least."

THE GENTLE LOVER 175

" As you say, it is certainly a charming view,"
Mr. Halvard admitted, seating himself in Allingham's
armchair by the window, and producing from his
pocket Grant Allen's Florence, which he proceeded to
study.

Allingham, over the top of his Tauchnitz, now and
then cast a wondering glance at him. He was surprised
by this strange little trait in Mr. Halvard's character,
which the choice of rooms had elicited, and which was
still further revealed, now that he had a clue to it, by
the carefully preserved paper wrappings on the covers
of his Grant Allen and his Baedeker, and by the dis-
favour with which he regarded Allingham's proposal
that he should detach the street map from the latter
volume, as being more convenient to carry than the
whole book.

" If you adopt my plan of leaving your luggage at
the station and getting the hotel people to send for it,"
Mr. Halvard presently observed, " you must be careful
to see that they do not, all the same, charge you for the
use of the hotel bus in your bill. They tried to do so
with me at Milan. It was either one franc, or one-
fifty." He drew a bundle of bills from his pocket and
glanced through them to verify the item. " One-
fifty, indeed, I find it to have been."

" Did you stop at Milan ? "

" For a day. They were doing an opera at the
Scala which I wished to hear. I am very fond of music.
And I also wanted to see Leonardo da Vinci's Last
Supper, and the Cathedral."

176 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Did you like them ? "

" I thought the cathedral very fine, though there
was a young American in our party who compared it
to a wedding-cake."

" The simile wasn't original," said Allingham, good-
naturedly. " Besides, I don't see why one shouldn't
admire a wedding-cake, do you ? "

" I thought the remark in rather bad taste ; especially
as there was a lady with us who was on her honeymoon."

He returned to Grant Allen, and Allingham watched
him with an emotion approaching to awe.

CHAPTER XXV

THAT evening he presented Mr. Halvard at Casa Grim-
shaw, They found the whole family there, with the
exception of Brian, who presently entered, a shawl
wrapped round his throat.

" ' A salt and sorry rheum offends me,' " he said, as
he shook hands with Allingham. " ' Lend me thy
handkerchief.' '

" You don't mean to say you haven't got one ! "
Mrs. Grimshaw exclaimed. " Run and get one at
once."

Mr. Halvard stared.

" It's only Shakespeare, mamma. I have a ' wipe '
all right."

" A what ? I can't think where you pick up such
expressions ! "

" Shakespeare again, mamma." He shook hands
with Mr. Halvard, who regarded him with uncertainty.

Their meeting amused Allingham, and he watched
them while listening to Mrs. Grimshaw, who spoke in a
confidential undertone. " I'm afraid he must have
caught cold yesterday when we were out driving.
There was an east wind, though we didn't feel it till

177 M

178 THE GENTLE LOVER

we were coming home. ... He was very ill some
time ago," she added, in a still lower voice, " and the
doctor told me then that we mustn't run any risks."

" The only time mamma ever gets seriously angry
with me is when I catch cold," Brian grumbled, as if he
had guessed what she had been saying.

" It is because you are so careless, dear ! "

" One cannot change one's nature."

" I am sorry to hear you proclaim that doctrine,"
Mr. Halvard interposed, in the tone of slightly heavy
jocularity he adopted as a means of " getting into touch
with young people." Nevertheless, as he said it, and
smiled, he looked very handsome, and very like
Mantegna's ' Saint George?

"It is true, isn't it, Mr. Allingham ? " Brian
answered, turning to his friend.

" I'm afraid so."

" Can the Ethiopian change his spots ? " Mrs.
Grimshaw quoted brightly.

" There you put it in a nutshell, mamma."

Mr. Halvard's dark blue eyes, with their peculiar,
veiled expression, rested upon Allingham. The lamp-
light touched the gold of his hair. " Do you think it is
true ? " he asked.

" Very nearly, at any rate," Allingham smiled.
" I remember, when I was a little boy, reading about a
cat who fell in love with a prince. She persuaded a
good-natured witch to transform her into a beautiful
lady, and in the end she married the prince. All went
well until one evening when they gave a dinner-party.

THE GENTLE LOVER 179

But in the middle of the festivities a mouse unfortun-
ately happened to come out and play on the floor.
The guests were charmed with the little creature's
antics, and sat very quiet so as not to frighten it. But
nobody sat half so quiet as the hostess, who actually
gripped the sides of her chair, so intent was she on not
making the slightest movement. And her lovely big
green eyes grew very large and very bright ; larger and
larger, brighter and brighter. At last the mouse
indulged in a particularly aggravating frisk, and the
lady, letting go the sides of her chair, made one pounce.
. . . The story is painful, of course, but it has always
struck me as keeping remarkably close to life."

He paused, and Mr. Halvard said gravely : " Yet
all religion is based on the great truth that a man's
nature is capable of complete transformation."

These astounding words, uttered very quietly, fell
upon them like a bombshell. Allingham, crushed
beneath them, glanced round helplessly at the others,
but at once became conscious that they had elicited a
little wave of sympathy from at least two members of
the party. He could have dropped on his knees and
begged the young clergyman for mercy. Mrs. Grim-
shaw, indeed, with the air of one exercising a miracle
of tact, immediately changed the subject, and began to
question Mr. Halvard concerning his travels. This
was more than Allingham could stand. " Damn it,"
he said to himself, " you would think I had been
coming off with an improper story ! " And in his
irritation he left Sylvie and her mother to discuss

180 THE GENTLE LOVER

Mr. Halyard's impressions of foreign cities and
customs, and addressed himself to Miss Kilronan,
whom he saw watching him with a mocking ex-
pression in her black eyes. But as he talked he
could not help listening to what the others were
saying. Mr. Halvard was describing the opera he
had heard in Milan, and presently Allingham noted
that the conversation had developed into a tete-a-tete
between Sylvie and the young divine on the subject of
music. It appeared that Sylvie had the score of the
particular opera Mr. Halvard had heard. She crossed
the room, followed by him, and they began to turn over
a heap of music beside the piano. Allingham tried to
talk intelligently to Sophy Kilronan, but he found
himself answering at random.

" Yes — yes," he murmured, mechanically, as Sophy
paused.

" ' Yes — yes ' . . . I wonder, Bennet, if you realize
how rude you are ! If you don't want to listen to what
I am saying, please don't pretend to do so."

Allingham was profuse in apologies. " I'm very
sorry, Sophy ; but you made a remark a moment ago

that happened to suggest a train of thought "

" What did I say a moment ago ? "
" Alas, only what it suggested now remains."
14 Bennet, you're a humbug."
44 I'm very sorry. It shan't occur again."
But all the same he could see that Sophy was annoyed.
Meanwhile, Sylvie and Mr. Halvard were bending over
the open score of the opera ; they were trying to find

THE GENTLE LOVER 181

a particular passage, and Mr. Halvard hummed it while
Sylvie turned the leaves.

The conversation of the others languished. " While
the young people are at their music we might perhaps
have a game of bridge," Mrs. Grimshaw proposed.

Allingham again felt a vague irritation.

" Mr. Allingham and I will play against you and
Aunt Sophy," said Brian.

They had played on several other evenings, though
on these occasions Mrs. Grimshaw's place had usually
been taken by Sylvie ; but now it seemed to be re-
garded as a matter of course that the girl should enter-
tain Mr. Halvard. Brian pulled forward a small card-
table, and they drew in their chairs.

41 Perhaps we had better draw for partners." The
suggestion came from Mrs. Grimshaw, who had played
with Aunt Sophy before.

" No ; you and Aunt Sophy against Mr. Allingham
and me would be fairest. Aunt Sophy's the best."

" Very well, dear ; but I play so seldom."

" Aunt Sophy won't scold you if you make mis-
takes. . . . They're your cards." He proceeded to
deal them for her, while Allingham wrote " We,"
" They," at the top of the marker.

Mrs. Grimshaw, after a great many hesitations and
glances at her partner, decided to begin at Spades ;
and the bidding went round till it finished with Brian.

" GoodalPs are the people who make baking-powder,
aren't they ? " Mrs. Grimshaw innocently remarked,
as they waited for Miss Kilronan to lead.

182 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Mamma, it's my impression that you have the ace
of Spades."

His mother looked up quickly, with a little, guilty
smile. " How do you know what I have ? I expect
you would like me to tell you ! "

" Not at all. At this stage of the game, and after
Aunt Sophy's hesitation, one naturally knows where
the cards lie."

" What nonsense ! — c at this stage of the game ! '
Why, we haven't begun yet ! "

" Besides, if you had had any other ace you'd
have mentioned it, seeing that the ace of Spades
is the lowest. If you'd had the ace of Hearts, for
instance "

" That just shows ! " Mrs. Grimshaw triumphed.
" Because as a matter of fact I happen "

" My dear Lucy, if you're going to tell them every-
thing you have in your hand, there's not much use
playing," Miss Kilronan interrupted, patiently.

" I'm not telling them," Mrs. Grimshaw protested.

" Don't listen to Aunt Sophy, mamma ; she'll only
put you out. Play your own game."

" I think there's too much talking," Allingham sug-
gested, diplomatically.

But Mrs. Grimshaw's mind hovered like a butterfly
about the room, alighting on the game only when it was
her turn to put down a card. " Who is Mr. Halvard ? "
she presently asked, under cover of the piano.

" I really don't know a great deal about him, except
that his father is a brewer — Halvard's Ale, you know.

THE GENTLE LOVER 183

I came across him in Bruges, where he was stopping at
my hotel. He seems a nice boy."

44 1 suppose they're very well off, if they're brewers ? "

44 Probably. . . . He is an Oxford man."

The game went on, Brian and Allingham winning.

44 Spades," Brian announced, after a new
deal.

44 Clubs," said Miss Kilronan.

44 He's very good-looking," murmured Mrs. Grimshaw.

4 4 Yes. I believe he has been working in the East End
of London, somewhere."

44 Really ! And yet he seems to be so musical ! "

44 Clubs," Miss Kilronan repeated, ominously.

44 Oh — er — let me see. Hearts," Allingham declared.

44 Diamonds," said Mrs. Grimshaw, after a hurried
scrutiny of her cards.

Sophy Kilronan sighed, and her sister looked at her
timidly through her pince-nez.

44 You know you can't go Diamonds, Lucy."

44 You have to go something higher than Hearts,
mamma. Two Diamonds, for instance ; or better
still, two No Trump."

44 Two No Trump," declared Mrs. Grimshaw, obedi-
ently.

44 I'll double two No Trump," Brian said, glancing
through the side of his eyes at Aunt Sophy.

44 Attend to the game, dear," his mother reproved
him. 44 What are you laughing at ? "

44 I'm not laughing — at least only a little. It's your
call, Aunt Sophy."

184 THE GENTLE LOVER

Miss Kilronan had laid down her cards.

" I think we'd better begin again," said Allingham,
who read signs of trouble in Sophy's indifference.
" Sophy, you said Clubs. I say Hearts, Mrs. Grim-
shaw, two Diamonds. Now, Brian ? "

" I'll double two Diamonds."

" Dear, do stop laughing."

"I ca- can't help it. Besides, we're here to amuse
ourselves."

" Pass," said Miss Kilronan, icily.

" Pass."

" Pass. ... I think there's always a something
about a young fellow who has been at Oxford — some-
thing rather distinguished, don't you think ? It's
quite different from Cambridge in that way."

" I'm afraid I'm not an authority on the subject."

" Well, it's my lead ; and mamma has gone a sporting
two Diamonds — doubled by her son."

" Two Diamonds ! " cried Mrs. Grimshaw, alarmed.
" No Trump, I thought it was ! "

" Two Diamonds is what you said," Miss Kilronan
dropped, spreading out a Diamondless hand on the
table.

" Two Diamonds ! But I haven't any — I mean,
Diamonds is my worst suit ! I can't have said
it."

" It's Aunt Sophy's fault, mamma. She and Mr.
Allingham rushed you into it. You wanted to go No
Trump."

" Yes, I'm sure I didn't say Diamonds."

THE GENTLE LOVER 185

" You'll have to play it now, at any rate," Sophy
insisted.

" Well, I'm sure we shall lose if it depends upon me.
... I should like Brian to go to Oxford, but Mr. Grim-
shaw wants him to go into the business as soon as we
get home."

" Mr. Allingham wasn't at Oxford," said Brian.

" You have made quite a conquest of Brian, Mr.
Allingham. We hear nothing but Mr. Allingham's
praises from morning to night. Everything is what
Mr. Allingham says, or what Mr. Allingham does."

Brian blushed crimson. " You don't hear anything
of the sort," he blurted out, angrily.

44 Don't contradict, dear. We do hear it. There is
nothing to be ashamed of."

44 I'm not ashamed."

44 Whatever else Oxford did for you, it might at least
improve your manners," Aunt Sophy remarked.

Allingham pretended to be deep in the study of his
cards. From the other side of the room came Mr.
Halvard's tenor voice :

" * Who is Sylvia ? what is She ?

That all our swains commend her ? ' "

44 Don't you think he's getting rather personal ? "
Brian whispered, his brow unclouding.

Mrs. Grimshaw continued to babble on about Mr.
Halvard, with whom she was evidently very much
struck, and placed one of her all too few Diamonds
upon Dummy's ace of Clubs in the second round of
that suit.

186 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Really, Lucy ! "

" Why ? ... Oh, I forgot ! "

" I don't see how you can expect to play two hands
and talk at the same time ? "

" I keep on thinking it's No Trump. . . . No, dear ;
I shall have that back." (This to Brian, who had
gathered up the trick for her).

" Well, I think the rest are ours," said Allingham,
a minute or two later. " Four down in doubled
Diamonds."

" We shouldn't have lost, I'm sure, if it had been No
Trump. I'll not take any more suggestions from other
people."

" Right, mamma. Suggestions lead to disaster.
Yours was a moral victory, and if we possibly
could, we'd give you something above the line for
it."

" We're four-eighty-four to the good," Allingham
announced. " It's your deal, Sophy."

" Don't you think we'd better have a little supper
before we go on ?" Mrs. Grimshaw hastily interposed.
" The others seem to have come to an end of their
music. Brian, dear, ring the bell. ... I suppose you
hear a great deal of music in London, Mr. Halvard ? "
she asked, as the young clergyman approached the
card-table.

Mr. Halvard smiled gravely. (" He's just stinking
with Oxford," whispered Brian, in admiration.)

" Yes, a good deal. I find something like that to be
almost necessary, with the work I am doing. I usually

THE GENTLE LOVER 187

take one day a week off, and if there is a concert or an
opera I go to hear it."

" How nice that must be for you ! "

Allingham joined Sylvie, who had gone to the window,
and was looking out into the dim garden. She glanced
round at him, laughingly. " There's not much to be
seen, is there ? We must rig up some Chinese lanterns
and make it more picturesque."

" An admirable idea."

" Mr. Halvard has a beautiful voice, don't you
think ? " She drummed with her fingers against the
glass for a moment.

" He seems to sing very nicely."

" And he was reading most of the things at sight.
He reads awfully well. He has promised to come to-
morrow afternoon to practise duets. I love duets,
and it's so hard to get anybody to sing with."

" I suppose there's no use offering you either tea or
coffee at this hour of the night, Bennet ? " Miss Kil-
ronan called out.

" Have a ha'penny orr'nge, Mr. Allingham ? " said
Brian, approaching with a dish of that fruit.

And Mrs. Grimshaw's voice was raised : " Sylvie,
dear, have you that photograph of the Bargello you
bought yesterday ? I want to show it to Mr.
Halvard."

" It's upstairs. I can get it in a minute."

44 I'm going to eat my orange over here beside you,
Mr. Allingham," the red boy said, when his sister had
gone in search of the photograph. " It's too dark

188 THE GENTLE LOVER

in this corner for Aunt Sophy to see me, and I'm going
to eat it vulgarly. Do you mind ? "

" Not if you don't make a noise."

" But I do. That's just where the vulgarity comes
in. You must drown the noise by conversation. I
think, on the whole, you'd better recite something."

He proceeded to cut a slit in the rind, and into this
he squeezed a lump of sugar. " There seems to be
precious little juice," he murmured. " The noise will
be something terrific, if I'm to get it out at all." He
turned his face to the window and raised the prepared
fruit to his mouth. But Miss Kilronan's piercing eye
had already detected these manoeuvres.

" Brian, what are you doing ? "

" Nothing, Aunt Sophy. . . ' Where the bee sucks,
there suck I,' " he added in an undertone.

But Miss Kilronan came straight across to them.
4 How can you be so disgusting ? "

" It's the only way I like oranges," her nephew
grumbled, " and I asked Mr. Allingham's permission."

" Mr. Allingham had no right to give you permission,
then. Get a plate and a knife at once, and behave like
a gentleman."

Brian frowned, but obeyed, and Miss Kilronan sat
down beside her old friend.

" Why have you chosen this dark corner, Bennet ?
One would think you had been put here in disgrace ! "

Sophy's reproof to Brian had, in fact, made Alling-
ham feel in disgrace. He knew that the tone of
camaraderie that marked his relations with that young

THE GENTLE LOVER 189

gentleman was mentally condemned by Miss Kil-
ronan, and even by Mrs. Grimshaw. They saw in it
a want of dignity, doubtless. Had not Sophy told
him that he would never grow up ? He did not quite
understand the change that had come over Sophy, and
he wondered what had altered her. It was only now
and then that he recognised the old Sophy of his boy-
hood, though even in those days she had wanted to
" boss " everybody.

" ' A coeur blesse — 1'ombre et le silence,' " he mur-
mured in answer to her remark.

" Poor Bennet ! Who has wounded your heart ? "

" All of you have helped. I feel that I am sup-
planted. Nobody wants to show me photographs of
the Bargello."

" But you know the original ? "

" What difference does that make ? And then, to
crown all, I am exhibited as a horrible person who
imbibes whisky and soda — incidentally setting a bad
example to Brian — when everybody else is rejoicing in
coffee. It was you who betrayed me, Sophy."

" It would have served you right if I hadn't be-
trayed you. Wait till next time."

" Next time it won't matter. My reputation is lost.
What do you think of the beautiful youth ? "

" I think he's very nice."

"Do you think he has a sense of humour,
Sophy ? "

" He may have some qualities that are more
important."

190 THE GENTLE LOVER

" I'm sure he has. He makes me feel, sometimes, as
if he must have them all," Allingham sighed.

" Don't you like him ? "

" I do like him — as much as I can. But I feel that
I ought to like him so far more than I do — yet, some-
how, I don't. . . . How does my new conversational
style strike you, Sophy ? "

" It seems a little involved."

" An increase of subtlety ; the grammar will come
with practice. What I mean is, that my opinion of
Mr. Halvard is of no value at all ; I don't understand
him."

" Yet he seems to be simple enough. A little
priggish, perhaps, just now."

" Guileless, Sophy, I daresay ; but certainly not
simple. You and I are both very much simpler than
the beautiful youth. My first impression of him was
quite wrong. My second impression isn't formed yet,
and, so far as I can see, it never will be."

" Probably he finds you just as strange."

" There I think you are mistaken. I should be
surprised if I presented the slightest difficulty to him—
except when I talk about cats and princes — while there
is an entire side of life which he knows of, and which
we don't know of, and never will know of."

' You keep classing me with yourself, Bennet ! "

" That's to give myself courage. The only persons
in this room that I really understand are the red boy
and his mother."

" The red boy ? "

THE GENTLE LOVER 191

" Your nephew."

" But surely they're not at all alike ! "

" Not very. But I understand them both. I know
where I am with them ; we belong to the same world.
. . . And they're not really so very unlike. The main
difference is that one is clever and the other isn't."

" Do you think you did right, then, to bring such a
very enigmatic person as Mr. Halvard here ? "

" Why not ? He is, at least, a gentleman. What I
did wrong was to discuss him after I had brought
him."

" But that's what you enjoy, isn't it ? I almost
imagined that that was what you brought him for."

" You're very unkind, Sophy. But I do like it.
I'm getting nearly as bad as an analytic novelist. All
the same, it is a weakness, a very deplorable one,
really. Shall we join the others and put ourselves
out of temptation ? "

" I think perhaps we'd better."

" Even if it's only to pick up material for a further
discussion," Allingham added as he followed her.

CHAPTER XXVI

" THEY are charming people," Mr. Halvard said, as he
and Allingham walked home.

" I am glad you liked them."

" It was very good of you to take me — a stranger,
without credentials." He smiled. More than ever,
in the dim soft moonlight, he reminded Alling-
ham of Saint George ; and yet, more than ever, his
beauty seemed remote, mysterious, almost inhuman.
" You have known them for a long time, I sup-
pose ? "

" 1 have known Mrs. Grimshaw and her sister all my
life. Grimshaw himself I have never seen. The
marriage took place after I had gone to America.
How did you like the young people ? "

" Miss Grimshaw is delightful — so unaffected. I
was perhaps not quite so favourably impressed by the
brother."

" What is the matter with him ? " Allingham asked,
laughing. " It's not his red hair, is it ? "

" No — no. ... I thought perhaps. . . . Oh, it is
really nothing. ... It is very pleasant to get a peep
into the intimacy of a home like that — especially for

192

THE GENTLE LOVER 193

us priests, who can enjoy such glimpses only from the
outside."

Allingham laughed again. " I don't quite know
what that last remark may imply, but it appears to
hint at something very dreadful. So far as I have
observed, clergymen are just as able and ready to
form homes as other people."

" It depends, I should say, on what idea they may
have of their calling. To me, personally, it seems
obvious that a priest should remain unmarried."

" But why ? "

" For the sake of his work ; for the sake of an ideal."

" That is a very cold ideal, surely ? And need the
fact of a man's having a wife and children prevent him
from working ? "

" It prevents him from giving himself entirely to his
work. I should have thought you, even as an artist,
would have agreed with me there. A clergyman's
parish is his family."

" Well, for myself, I should prefer a smaller one ;
but, as you say, it is a matter of taste."

" With me it is a matter of conviction."

" Aren't you very young to hold such austere
views ? Or perhaps that may be partly why you do
hold them."

" I have never held any other view, and it has been
strengthened since I came abroad. An atmosphere of
Catholicism brings home to one the extraordinary
power of religion. The churches, the pictures — all tend
to bring it out,"

194 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Do you really care so greatly for that sort of
thing ? Don't you think one can have too much
of it?"

" I don't know what sort of thing you are referring
to."

" Well, to medievalism in general. You mentioned
the pictures, but it seems to me that if you leave out
the subject of the mother and child — which, I suppose,
is about as domestic a one as you could find — what
remains of religious art would be rather appalling."

" You mean, I suppose, all that is connected with
the saints ? I do not find it so."

Allingham frowned. " But it is not good, you
know — that sort of stuff. It is abnormal. One cannot
live a life like that, and remain mentally and physically
healthy."

" Saint Catherine of Siena and Saint Angela of
Foligno lived for years without taking any other food
than the consecrated Host. They were both perfectly
healthy," said Mr. Halvard, quietly.

" You really believe that ? "

" One has no choice but to believe it. It is not a
poetic fiction, I assure you ; it is an historic fact."

" It did not strike me as being poetic," said Ailing-
ham, dryly.

" It requires some time, I daresay, before one gets
to see the full beauty and truth that lie at the heart of
mysticism."

44 I'm afraid I shall never see it."

44 Have you read the Fioretti of Saint Francis ? "

THE GENTLE LOVER 195

" I have, and I don't like them."

Mr. Halvard was kindness itself. " That is very
interesting. I should have thought they would have
appealed to everyone : they are so charming, so
natural, so simple."

" But they're not," returned Allingham, impatiently.
" In the story of Saint Francis preaching to the birds,
when the birds drop into line and fly away across the
sky in the form of a gigantic cross — does that strike you
as natural, as simple ? If you are charmed by it, you'll
have to find another reason. To my mind it is morbid
in the extreme, like everything else in the book."

Mr. Halvard was perfectly unruffled. " Even grant-
ing that it is — and I don't grant it — may it not be that
in certain states of mind, which the materialist would
describe as morbid, we have a keener vision of the truth
than at any other time ? "

" I am not a materialist."

" You remember the famous saying of Saint Hilde-
garde : ' Le Seigneur n'habite pas dans les corps sains
et vigoureux ? ' "

" I never heard it before, but I'm glad to be warned
against Saint Hildegarde. She is evidently one of
the worst of her class." And suddenly his annoyance
leaped to the surface. "It is just nonsense of that
repulsive sort that I am objecting to. The whole
literature of the saints — if you can call it a literature —
is steeped in it. It reeks of the hospital and the
charnel-house. . . . My dear young friend," he went
on, more quietly, " at the risk of seeming fatuous, I

196 THE GENTLE LOVER

cannot help thinking that your enthusiasm for it must
be of very recent date, and that you will leave it behind
you. Of course, I know that such suggestions are
always irritating "

" They are not in the least," Mr. Halvard smiled.

" It isn't merely that, personally, I find it distaste-
ful, but that I don't believe any fine thing ever came
to flower in such an unsavoury soil. A genius may, I
suppose, succeed in throwing a deceptive glamour over
the unnatural, but he can never make it natural. Even
from your own point of view, from the most strictly
religious point of view, don't you see how futile it must
be ? You may chloroform your intelligence with the
ideal and the mystical, but all that will do very little
for you in the practical difficulties of life. So far as
keeping a healthy mind is concerned, a day out in the
woods, or by the sea, is better than the dimmest of
cathedrals. The wind is a better tonic for the soul
than incense, a plunge in the river than half-an-hour in
the confessional."

Allingham was disagreeably conscious of this speech
as a somewhat " balanced " effort. He hadn't intended
it to come out like that. Mr. Halvard made no reply
to it whatever, and, indeed, both of them knew that
the argument, from the beginning, had been hopeless.
Allingham even felt that in the young man's silence
there was a certain disdain. He was annoyed with
himself, above all, for having been betrayed into a
more heated manner of speech than he cared to adopt
about anything. It was amazing how the blood of

THE GENTLE LOVER 197

Presbyterian forbears clamoured within him at such
moments. He supposed Mr. Halvard regarded him as
dead to the spiritual side of life, as a materialistic and
cynical person, without religion, without imagination,
possibly even without good manners. All that the
discussion had done, though it had done this most
effectually, was to bring to the surface a latent but
essential antagonism between them — an antagonism
of mind, of spirit — which he now saw had been there
from the beginning. He saw also how feeble his falling
back for support upon the fact of his superior age must
have appeared to Mr. Halvard, implying, as it did, if
it had any meaning whatever, that he had at one time
passed through a similar phase of feeling. Mr. Halvard
knew perfectly well that he had never passed, and
never would pass, through any such phase. They
separated with a bare, and not particularly cordial,
*' good -night."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE October days slipped by, but Allingham's plan
of showing Florence to Sylvie had not been carried
out quite as completely as, nor quite in the manner
that, he had intended. This was largely due to the
unexpected activity displayed by Mr. Halvard in
organising excursions in which the whole party shared.
Mr. Halvard had become indispensable. It was he
who arranged the drives to Fiesole, to Prato, to Pistoia;
it was he who brought flowers to the ladies (a testimony
of regard which, had they known him as well as Ailing-
ham did, might have astonished them not a little) ;
it was he who turned the homely little evenings at
Casa Grimshaw into delightful concerts. Nor was
his advent signalled only by such triumphs as these.
Since his appearance, Sophy had visibly relaxed in
her attitude towards everybody. She was now always
in good humour, and Allingham found himself dropping
back more or less into his old relation to her. He
was her particular cavalier upon most of the excursions,
and his chair was usually beside hers when they talked
the day's adventures over in the drawing-room after
dinner.

193

THE GENTLE LOVER

If he had fewer chances of being alone with Sylvie,
he, at all events, saw her in the company of others ;
and this, in the meantime, was sufficient for his happi-
ness. He liked, it must be confessed, to watch the
girl in relation to other people. He liked to observe
her with a kind of odd, tender, half-humorous obser-
vation— a sort of mingled pride and affection. Her
impulsiveness and candour pleased him, the unaffect-
edness of all she did and said, her apparent uncon-
sciousness of her own beauty, the unspoiled pleasure
she took in all things. He liked the generosity and
simplicity of her nature, the absence of self -conscious-
ness. Each time he saw her, her fresh, radiant youth
delighted him anew, and it delighted him this morning
as he perceived her coming out from the old church of
Or San Michele, where she must have been attending Mass.

She did not at first see him, owing to a number of
people that were between them — for the most part
women of the poorer class, with a sprinkling of children.
He watched her draw near, and a smile passed from
his dark eyes to his fine, clean mouth.

Sylvie approached him, her eyes cast down, as if
she were lost in grave meditation ; then, when she
was almost beside him, she looked up. The smile of
recognition that came into her face was like a soft
revelation of all its sweetness, and Allingham felt that
deep strange happiness which any meeting with her
brought him. This happiness was very clearly ex-
pressed in his slow, drawling voice, as he asked her
if she had been to church.

200 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Yes," she answered simply. " I go almost every
morning now."

" And you have the courage to confess it to a staunch
Protestant like me ! I'm not at all sure that we approve
of going even to our own churches on week-days, let
alone to dreadful strongholds of Papistry ! "

" I'm afraid it - /ould shock some of my friends at
home much more than it shocks you."

l4 You quite underrate my capacity for being shocked.
You always have done so."

" I only go because I like to be quiet for a little,
sometimes. A Protestant church would do quite as
well, if they would let me in."

14 You are sure you are not becoming High-church
even ? The interesting influence of Mr. Halvard hasn't
been secretly at work ? "

44 Are you never serious, Mr. Allingham ? "

44 1 am extremely serious now. This outward
flippancy really covers an intense anxiety. You
simply must have discussed church doctrines with Mr.
Halvard. Nobody can avoid it."

44 Of course I have."

44 1 thought so ! And you know in what points the
Church of Rome is wrong and he is right ? "

44 He does not believe in the infallibility of the
Pope."

Allingham laughed out. 44 He believes in his own,
though. He fasts and goes to confession, is much
attached to the saints, and even hears confessions
himself,"

THE GENTLE LOVER 201

" Only the confessions of little boys."

" And they're the last little animals in the world
he could ever understand. Aren't they ? "

" He told me that fasting agreed with him, that
his mind was clearer when he fasted, that he could
do more work and better work. Mr. Halvard thinks
that if one is to influence other people spiritually,
one should live as spiritual a life as one can oneself."

" He's a delightful boy. Don't you find him almost
serious enough, Sylvie ? "

" I don't think you are fair to him. He is very young."

" Not so young as you are."

" I don't feel young a bit. Sometimes I feel horribly
old."

" That is a privilege of youth. Later on one daren't
realize such things. . . . What is the matter ? "he added,
for as they drew near the Ponte Vecchio they saw
a crowd gathered there, a crowd that was increasing
every moment as fresh arrivals tried to push their way
towards the river amid wild shouting and gesticulation.
The commotion increased rapidly, and Allingham and
his companion were soon obliged to come to a stand-
still.

" If they weren't Italians one might imagine some-
thing had happened," Allingham murmured. " Pro-
bably a hat has fallen into the river."

But the hubbub grew ever louder and wilder, till
all at once it developed into frantic cheers, led by those
in favourable positions along the river wall. Allingham
and Sylvie pressed forward unavailingly.

202 THE GENTLE LOVER

" If one only understood the language, there are
plenty of explanations going on," he said. " It can
hardly be a hat after all, with these screams of joy ! "

For the cheering still continued, and had now spread
to those who were quite as unable as themselves to
make out what was happening.

" See, they're getting a rope ! " Sylvie cried. " Some-
body must have fallen in."

A rope was passed from hand to hand over the
densely packed people ; then a man emerged from a
sea of shoulders and heads, waist-high above them.

" He's on the wall ! " Sylvie cried. "He is going
over ! "

The man disappeared, and there followed a few
seconds of silence ; then a renewed and terrific out-
burst of cheering.

" They're hauling him up," said Allingham, who
was craning his neck and standing on his toes. " He
must have got something. Here he comes ! "

At last the crowd divided, surging and swaying
to either side, under the frantic protests of policemen.
Allingham and Sylvie caught a swift glimpse of a
limp figure being borne along, with dark hair hanging
loose, and wet clothes that hung and dripped about her.
Then the figure disappeared through the door of a shop,
which the police were obliged to hold against the on-
rush of the eager crowd, thirsting to see, and trying
to force an entrance.

"Is she drowned?" Sylvie asked. "What are
they still cheering about ? "

THE GENTLE LOVER 203

A man appeared at an upper window of the shop
and began to shout.

" He says she lives, Signorina," a white-haired
Italian politely explained, with the eagerness of his
race to talk English. " They now cheer her
saviour."

The excitement among the crowd had indeed only
at this moment attained to its full height. There was
a wild waving of hats and handkerchiefs, and once more
the swaying and surging of two heavy masses of people
trying to separate.

" Why it's Brian ! " Sylvie cried hysterically.
" Brian ! " she called out, half laughing, half crying.

The boy turned, while admiring Florentines made
a path for him, and then closed in about the little
group in a far-reaching circle that was like a swaying
field of corn. Brian was very white, but he smiled,
as his glance met Allingham's. He was bare-headed,
and in his shirt and trousers, from which the water
streamed, forming a pool about his feet.

" I seem to have brought most of the Arno with me,"
he said, regretfully.

" La sorella ! La sorella ! " screamed the crowd,
as Sylvie made an impulsive movement to clasp him
in her arms.

Brian drew back with great presence of mind.

"Stop— Don't be idiotic! They're all looking at
you."

" But are you hurt ? Are you all right ? " Sylvie
quavered, laughing through her tears.

204 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Of course I'm all right, if they'd only let me alone.
.... I wonder who's bagged my jacket ? It's just
like them ! I suppose I'll never see it again ! My hat's
gone too. I forgot to take it off before I jumped."

Allingham, meanwhile, was bestowing his card upon
an important person in uniform.

" I say, we must get out of this at once," the boy
murmured, as the smiling, excited people pressed in
upon him, shaking hands, some of the women even
attempting, like Sylvie, to embrace him. " They're
all mad. Did you ever see such a lot ? Here's my
jacket at last ! " But before he could put it on a stout,
laughing, young woman had enveloped him in her
arms, and imprinted a resounding and garlic-perfumed
kiss upon his cheek, to the intense joy of the spectators.
Only the policeman, trying to clear a path for them,
were beginning to get angry.

" I hope you won't catch cold," said Sylvie, anxiously,
as the policemen did their best to keep back the hero's
admirers.

But the more thoughtful of these had begun to
realize the situation for themselves, and in a trice Brian
would have been stripped and clothed in dry garments
had he not resisted manfully. With infinite difficulty
a way was at last made for them, and they proceeded
as quickly as they could across the bridge.

" I wonder if the girl is all right ? She wasn't
really very long in the water."

" But you might have been drowned ! " Sylvie mur-
mured, reproachfully.

THE GENTLE LOVER 205

44 Well, it wouldn't have been my fault. I waited as
long as I decently could for somebody else to go in,
but there was no competition."

" And you actually dived off the bridge ? How
could you ? "

" I couldn't. That was what spoiled it. The dive
was a failure."

44 Didn't she struggle ? "

" Of course. After all, I don't see that I had any
right to interfere. She jumped in on purpose . . . I'm
afraid most of the drowning took place after I caught
hold of her, and while I was trying to lug her ashore.
Nobody seemed to think of getting a boat. That would
have been too practical, besides spoiling the show.
It's just occurred to me that we might have waded out.
I wonder what depth it really is ? Don't be saying
anything to mamma and Aunt Sophy."

44 Such nonsense ! Of course they must be told."
" It will be in all the papers to-morrow," said Ailing-
ham, 44 with a description of how it happened — in the
English papers too."

44 Well, don't say anything to mamma till I get
changed, or she will want me to go to bed and drink
things all afternoon."

44 You must take a hot drink. I'll bring one up to
you."

They had at last reached the house, and Brian had
begun to climb the stairs, accompanied by Ailing-
ham.

44 I'll bring the drink up in a minute," Sylvie called

206 THE GENTLE LOVER

after them. " And you'll have to get your clothes
dried."

Allingham followed the red boy to his room, but
when they were alone Brian sat down suddenly on the
side of the bed. " I thought I'd never get out,"
he murmured. " My foot slipped just when I was
jumping, and I hurt myself going in."

" Are you all right now ? " Allingham asked, for
his face was very white.

" Oh, yes. But it wasn't easy. If I hadn't had the
good luck to get a grip of the girl so that she couldn't
put her arms round me, I wouldn't have had an
earthly."

He fumbled at the lace of his shoe without succeeding
in untying it.

" Let me," said Allingham. " I really think you'd
better get into bed," he added, as he happened to glance
up, and saw the boy's half-closed eyes.

" No ; I'll be all right in a minute. I don't want
mamma to make a fuss. She always sends for a
doctor if she thinks there's the slightest thing the matter
with me."

But as he got on his feet, he suddenly stumbled, and
Allingham had just time to catch him before he fell.
He lifted him on to the bed, as there came a tapping
at the door, and Sylvie's voice speaking from the other
side.

" Brian, you're to drink this while it's hot ; and if you
give me out your wet clothes I'll take them down
and have them dried for you."

THE GENTLE LOVER 207

Allingham went to the door, and opened it.

" What is the matter ? " Sylvie asked. Next mo-
ment she saw her brother lying white and still and ran
to him.

" He has fainted,55 Allingham said. " I think I had
better go for a doctor.55

" If you wouldn5t mind, Mr. Allingham. Mamma
and Aunt Sophy are both out, but I can get Maria to
help me. We must put him to bed at once, and get
some hot jars and flannels.5' She had already rung
the bell. " Don't be frightened. I have seen him
like this before and know what to do in the meantime."

She was perfectly self-possessed ; swift and sure in
her movements ; and Allingham saw that he need have
no misgivings about leaving her alone. As he went
out Maria bustled in.

When he came back, Brian was safely in bed, and
appeared to have recovered marvellously. Sylvie
glanced at Allingham and he nodded in reply.

" I5m awfully sorry, Mr. Allingham,55 Brian smiled
from between his blankets. " I know it's perfectly
idiotic behaving in this way, but I couldn5t help it. ...
The only thing I can't quite understand is why I5m
being scalded to death."

Allingham laughed. There was really something
extraordinarily nice about Brian, altogether apart from
the mere natural charm of his youth and good temper.
He could not have described what it was, but it was
there, and he counted it to his own credit that he had
recognised it from the beginning.

208 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Are the jars too hot ? " Sylvie asked, hastening
forward.

" Oh, I daresay I can stick them. You'd better
explain to Mr. Allingham that this sort of performance
is quite in my line. It occurs whenever anything
exciting takes place. It occurred when I was going
to be vaccinated — just while the doctor was getting
things ready. It occurs if anybody mentions an inter-
esting internal organ, such as a heart, or a liver —
particularly a heart. It's not in the least serious."

" You must lie still all the same," Sylvie said gently.
" The doctor is coming. He will be here in a few
minutes."

Brian made a face expressive of disgust. " All
this fizzling out after heroic adventures is very tedious."

" I think perhaps I'd better go and see how the
girl is," Allingham suggested.

The boy smiled. " You'll come back of course ? "

" As soon as I can."

" Thanks awfully. It's rotten giving you so much
trouble."

Sylvie came with him to the door. " He will be all
right now," she whispered. " And if the doctor is
gone before mamma comes back, I don't really think
we need say anything about it. Mamma gets so

nervous."

" Doesn't it depend on what he says when he does
come ? "

" Oh yes, of course. But I mean if he says there is
nothing the matter,"

THE GENTLE LOVER 209

Allingham was doubtful about the wisdom of this
policy, but he made no objection. The crowd had
quite dispersed when he hastened to the shop into
which he had seen the girl carried. He had had but a
glimpse of her face, yet it had been sufficient for him
to believe that he had recognised it. He was almost
certain that she was the girl who had shared in the
seance at Bruges.

When he reached his destination, he learned that
she had recovered sufficiently to be taken home, and
that a man who claimed to be her father had removed
her in a carriage. Nobody could give the address,
though doubtless he would be able to get it if he in-
quired of the police ; but everybody was eager to discuss
the adventure with him in broken French, eked out
by still more broken English. He found himself
powerless to remove the impression that Brian was his
son. They seemed to want it to be that way. Every-
one in the room — and it was crowded — shook hands
with him, and all were eager that he should partake of
refreshment. He escaped as soon as he could, but
not before he had formed at least a score of new friend-
ships.

On returning to Casa Grimshaw, he learned that the
doctor had paid his visit, and had decided that there
was nothing serious the matter with the patient.
He had ordered him to lie quiet for a few hours, but
that was all. Allingham told his news and described
where he thought he had seen the girl before. They
sat talking together, Allingham beside the bed, Sylvie

O

210 THE GENTLE LOVER

by the window, waiting for Mrs. Grimshaw and Aunt
Sophy to come in.

" Do you know," Allingham remarked after a little,
" I was planning on my way back a trip to Siena.
I shall stay there for about a week perhaps."

At this the patient immediately pricked up his ears.
" When do you want to start ? "

" I'm not sure. I hadn't settled that. But pro-
bably to-morrow or the day after. It doesn't really
matter when."

" Whenever I can come, do you mean ? "

" That is the idea. How did you guess ? "

" Oh, I can guess harder things than that. What
about Mr. Halvard ? We don't want him, do
we?"

Sylvie looked up as her brother put this question,
and, her eyes meeting Allingham's, a sudden blush
dyed her face.

" I hadn't thought of asking him," said Allingham,
quietly.

"Ah well, that's all right then," Brian smiled.
" I'll take my camera and we'll have a good time."

CHAPTER XXVIII

ALLINGHAM and Brian sat on the long stone bench
by the hospital wall. Before them was the deserted
square, bright in the sunshine of the early Sunday
afternoon, with the black and white marble fayade
of the Cathedral rising up against a cloudless sky.
For a week they had been here in Siena, that strange,
beautiful, old city, which, after the noise and modernity
of Florence, seemed still sleeping in some tranquil
dream of the Middle Ages. For a week they had
been wandering about its steep, crooked, little streets,
into which the sun never penetrated, so high were the
dark houses on either side, with roofs almost meeting
overhead, beneath a sky that showed like a narrow
streak of dark blue velvet. The place was amazingly
quiet, all the life and traffic seeming to confine itself
to one main thoroughfare, from which our two friends
plunged down on romantic explorations by precipitous
alleys or steep flights of steps. At night the streets
were very dark, the gas-lamps being few and dim ;
but in the daytime they were only cool and gray and
shadowy, with coloured houses and vast stone palaces
standing side by side. Their walks at first had been

211

212 THE GENTLE LOVER

full of the charm of the unexpected. In that maze of
narrow streets, set at eccentric angles, they were
forever plunging down, or mounting up, forever making
discoveries. They caught glimpses of people walking
above their heads, or below their feet, and every now
and again a sudden turn, a dive down a flight of steps,
would bring them out on to the ancient ramparts,
from which the open country dropped away in a steep
green valley, splashed with olive and dotted with
cypress. Over this extended plain they could see
for miles. Here and there, it swelled into little mounds,
where monasteries nestled ; and, far away, the outline
of vaster mountains ridged the sky. Across the calm
distance the low sound of bells sometimes floated,
and in the evenings the whole plain became a well of
coloured light, with the dark church of San Domenico,
standing out on its hill-top, watching over all.

Allingham and Brian spent a good deal of time
loitering by these old ramparts, in that delicious at-
mosphere of peacefulness, which stretched out across
the plain, like a veil of shimmering gold dust. They
loitered, too, in the fan-shaped, brick-paved square.
Motionless and very old, the great, dark, red and
brown houses closed them in as if in a dreaming city,
while the vast pile of the Palazzo Communale, with
its red and white tower, cast a broad shadow at their
feet. Within those sombre walls were delicate dreams
of loveliness, fixed there long ago by Simone and
his school. There they saw the city of Siena itself,
outlined against a sky of burnished gold. All around,

THE GENTLE LOVER 218

the hills, olive-green and gray, stood bathed in a golden
light which floated and lingered in an endless sunset.
Down into the hollow of the hills, where, by some strange
fancy, the tomb of the Virgin has been placed, Christ
sweeps, attended by cherubs, whose flight on red and
gold wings follows the curve of His flight. The Virgin,
in a dark robe of gray and black, starred with gold,
has risen to meet Him, and the Apostles and Saints
gaze in wonderment into an empty grave. And as the
light waned outside, the fresco, in its extraordinary
richness, seemed to gather into itself all that remained
of the fading afternoon, in a kind of supernatural
glory which held them silent and awed.

This painting of Taddeo di Bartolo, the paintings
of Simone and Duccio, of Matteo di Giovanni, seemed,
in the setting of the ancient city, like burning jewels
in a rare old casket. If Florence could boast more
treasures, it could offer no such unity of effect as Siena.
Here all was one delightful whole ; there were no dis-
cordant notes. To come into the church of San
Domenico ; to pull aside a blind and discover the
mystic golden glory of Matteo's Saint Barbara — how
different that from wandering among numbered and
labelled masterpieces in a chilly Florentine museum ?
Here the thing was in its natural setting, and in the
loneliness of the great church its mysterious loveli-
ness had a dim glow as of something not of this
earth.

Allingham and Brian had put up at an hotel over-
Jpoking the public gardens, and in the evenings, if they

214 THE GENTLE LOVER

cared to, they could stroll out under trees and listen to
a band playing Bellini or Leoncavallo.

At such times Allingham turned slowly over and
over again the problem he had come away to solve.
The red boy's presence by his side reminded him of
Sylvie ; and Sylvie's absence left him freer to look at
the question more fairly. The point was not whether
he had at last fallen in love — that had been decided for
him long ago ; but whether his love could, or should,
be returned. And somehow the fact of Brian's being
so content to be with him there, reassured him, for he
imagined that in temperament the brother and sister
must have at any rate a little in common. The dream
that lingered in Allingham's mind was intensely beauti-
ful. It seemed to breathe upon him a benediction of
happiness, a kind of happiness he had never even hoped
for. Yet, was it right that he should claim it ? He felt
sure that Sylvie need fear no disillusionment. As he
had showed himself to her, so he was. Only the happi-
ness she might share with him would perhaps seem
somewhat humdrum in the light of what she might
have pictured now and then after reading a poem or
a novel. Behind that again was the certainty that a
marriage with him would be regarded by the girl's
family as far from brilliant. He was not wealthy, he
was not young, he was not in any way distinguished.
He endeavoured to look at these things from a point of
view which should not be too selfish ; they were present
to him now, as he sat on the stone bench beside Brian
and puffed leisurely at a long thin Tuscan cigar, whose

THE GENTLE LOVER 215

principal virtue was its inexpensiveness. They had
not spoken for maybe five minutes. It had always
been a sign of the reality of their intimacy that they
could keep silence together in this way without feeling
bored. From time to time one or other of them
dropped a remark into the lazy stillness, and it was in
this casual manner that Brian presently said : "I
expect papa will come next week. Mamma said so
in her letter."

Allingham received the news with a vague feeling
of uneasiness. He was not, if the truth must be told,
looking forward with any eagerness to this oft-referred
to visit of papa. Mr. Grimshaw, so far as he knew, was
about his own age, but he was almost certain to be an
infinitely more important person, from whose robust
prosperity Allingham, in anticipation, and from the
point of view of a prospective son-in-law, shrank not
a little.

" I hope you'll tell him that you don't think it would
be a good thing for me to go into the business for
another year," Brian added.
" Do you imagine he'll consult me on the point ? "
" He consults everybody about everything."
For a moment Allingham had a strong temptation
to take Brian into his confidence, but he feared that, if
the boy did not care for the idea, it might spoil his
pleasure in the remainder of their little excursion. It
would not be fair to him. He would wait till they got
back.

Some tourists entered the square — Americans —

216 THE GENTLE LOVER

splashing noisily into its silence as a spaniel splashes
into a pond. Our friends recognized them, for they
had watched them in the morning attempt the im-
possible task of driving a motor car through the streets,
and coming, almost at once, to a deadlock, amid the
intense excitement of the natives. Later they had had
the pleasure of seeing them come in to lunch at their
hotel, where they aroused an obsequious politeness in
the bosoms of waiters and managers which Allingham
and his companion had wholly failed to kindle. The
ladies were exquisitely dressed, rustling and radiant
visions ; the men, dark and lean and sallow, followed
languidly in their wake, as they passed through the
high door of the Cathedral. And as they disappeared,
the silence closed in again, liquid and lazy and sleepy,
full of afternoon sunlight and the beauty of old
crumbling stone.

" Doesn't it strike you that we've loafed a tremen-
dous lot since we've been here ? " Allingham murmured,
and his voice was as drowsy as the afternoon.

" I thought we came to loaf. Besides, I've taken
heaps of photographs. I'll take one now, if you think
it's the proper thing to do."

" You haven't developed them. You're a lazy young
scamp. And I should have painted at least two water-
colours a day."

" But we'll be back again. When papa comes I'm
going to ask him for another six months' leave. If the
others want to go home, I'll knock about with you."

" You're far too much my own kind of traveller to

THE GENTLE LOVER 217

keep me up to the mark. You set me a wretched ex-
ample. I require somebody like Mr. Halvard, or I
miss all the ' noted ' things."

" Mr. Halvard would have been in the way. He's
not really in our line."

" What is our line, do you think ? "

" The line of least resistance. I'm not awfully keen
on Mr. Halvard."

He was silent till he began to hum to himself in his
gruff, boyish voice :

" * Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winter's rages ;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages :
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.' "

" You were singing that when I first saw you, in the
Beguinage."

Brian did not reply ; he seemed to have sunk into a
reverie.

" What are you thinking about ? " Allingham asked.

" Something extraordinarily deep. I was thinking
that it is rather stupid how much depends on chance —
I mean where getting to know people is concerned.
It had never occurred to me before. . . . You only
get to know a few people whom you go to school with,
or who are your relations, or something of that sort,
and then a few others you happen to meet. But it is
very unlikely that you will ever come across the people
most suited to you. A great many people must never
come across anybody at all they really care for. , , .

218 THE GENTLE LOVER

There was a lady I liked rather," he went on, suddenly
blushing, "when we met her in Holland — a Mrs. Leslie.
She was very nice. Mamma, in her letter, says that she
has turned up in Florence since we came here."

" You must introduce me."

" I will," Brian promised. " Sylvie didn't like her ;
but then she seemed to dislike her on purpose."

Allingham laughed.

" Sylvie said that she shouldn't have spoken to us.
It was jolly decent of her taking any notice of us. And
you can see she's not the kind of person who goes about
joining on to everybody. She's awfully bright and
lively; but really she's very melancholy. She was
married when she was too young, and before she had
met anybody. It was her people who made her marry.
And she has always felt lonely — as if there was some-
body somewhere — a kind of twin-soul, I think she said
— with whom she could be in perfect sympathy. She
says Byron and Shelley felt just the same kind of thing
all the time. One evening, when we were alone to-
gether, she got frightfully sad about it, and I couldn't
think of anything that seemed to cheer her up. She
said I was one of the few people who had ever come
near to understanding her."

He stopped suddenly and turned his clear bright
eyes to Allingham, who continued to smoke, without
offering any comment on Mrs. Leslie's confidences.

The Americans emerged from the Cathedral, and
passed on out of the square, disappearing down a
flight of stone steps.

THE GENTLE LOVER 219

" Why have American men always such tired-looking
eyes, I wonder ? There's something about them that
I rather like."

Allingham got up. " Let us go and have tea in the
gardens and listen to the band. I can hear it in the
distance."

" You won't say anything about what I told you ? "
Brian murmured, uneasily. " I don't know whether
I ought to have mentioned it. Perhaps it was breaking
a confidence. Do you think it was ? "

" I don't think you need worry about it. If it had
been a confidence that mattered, you would have kept
it to yourself. No harm will come of it, at any rate :
I shan't tell your secrets, Brian."

CHAPTER XXIX

RETURNING next morning by an early train to Florence,
Allingham separated from his companion at the door of
the hotel. He lunched alone, and after lunch, when he
had read one or two letters which had arrived during
his absence, he went out to stretch his legs. He
would have paid a visit to Casa Grimshaw, only he
rather thought Mr. Halvard must be there. Why
this should have deterred him from going he did
not ask himself, any more than he asked himself
why, latterly, it had always been with a sense of
relief that he had noticed Mr. Halvard's non-appear-
ance at the little table they shared in the hotel
dining-room.

Strolling in the direction of Santa Maria Novella, it
occurred to him that he might as well go in and com-
pare the Rucellai Madonna with the famous Duccio at
Siena. When he had accomplished this, he still lin-
gered in the church, wandering from chapel to chapel,
and by and by passing out to the cloisters, where the
ghosts of Uccello's frescoes glimmered wanly, faint as
a breath on a mirror. It was as if before his eyes they
were sinking back again into the mind that had long

220

THE GENTLE LOVER 221

ago conceived them, and that was now drawing them
back into its endless dream.

Allingham walked slowly round the cloister till he
reached the open door of the Spanish Chapel. Here,
on the threshold, he paused, for his attention had been
caught by two persons within. Their backs were
turned to him, and they were standing in front of the
vast Crucifixion on the centre wall. Something in
their attitude held him motionless. What it was he
could not have said, for they simply stood there side
by side, not even particularly close to each other, not
even looking at each other. Yet his fancy seemed to
see them enveloped by an atmosphere of intimacy that
isolated them from all the world. He tried to shake the
impression from him ; he told himself that it was
absurd ; but it persisted ; it prevented him from going
in ; it held him rooted to the ground, motionless and
almost breathless. The thing was strange in the ex-
treme, and suddenly he awoke to the oddness of his
position. He did not know how long he had been
standing there. Probably only for a minute or two,
but it might have been much more. His impulse, even
now, was to steal away before the others had seen him.
He made a step with this intention, but at that moment
Mr. Halvard turned, and their eyes met. For the
fraction of a second, in the dark, ice-blue eyes of the
young clergyman Allingham felt something coldly
antagonistic ; then, even as he noticed it, it had melted
into a smile of welcome.

" So you've got back again ! " cried Mr. Halvard ;

222 THE GENTLE LOVER

and at that Sylvie also turned, and they both came
forward to meet him.

" You've arrived at the most opportune moment,"
Mr. Halvard continued, in a tone Allingham had never
heard him use before. " Miss Grimshaw is fascinated
by this chapel, and I was afraid I should have to leave
her here, as there is some work I must attend to before
dinner. I suppose I may leave you in Mr. Allingham's
hands, Miss Grimshaw ? "

" I don't know that I require to be left in anybody's
hands," Sylvie returned, but it struck Allingham that
she was a little vexed. " I came here by myself, and
I daresay I can manage to go home by myself."

44 Well, you must settle that between you," Mr.
Halvard called back gaily, waving a farewell. " Au
revoir."

He was gone almost before Allingham had time to
realise what was happening, and he gazed after the
retreating, the strangely altered figure, in bewilderment.
" What is the matter ? " he asked, in a voice whose
bated breath did not really very much exaggerate his
impression. " He seems to be transformed ! What
can have happened in a week ? "

" Transformed ? " Sylvie's manner was amused,
even bantering, but he knew that she knew what he
meant.

4 Yes ; he has grown almost secular. . . . His exit
was in the best vein of modern light comedy ! " He
turned to her with a half sad, half whimsical expression
in his dark eyes.

THE GENTLE LOVER 223

He was really asking her to be sincere, to meet him
as she had always met him ; but she only laughed.
" What nonsense ! I'm glad, however, that you've
come home in such good spirits ! "

" Good spirits ! You've noticed them already ? "

" Brian told us that you'd both had a splendid time.
He certainly had."

They turned to complete the inspection of the chapel,
but Allingham could not get rid of the idea that the
chance which had led him out into the cloisters had
not been a happy one. He felt uncomfortable; he
felt as if somebody had told him a lie — a lie which, in
spite of their united efforts to the contrary, had at once
revealed itself for what it was. A growing uneasiness
took possession of him. Why had Mr. Halvard rushed
away like this ? And why had Sylvie assured him that
she had come here alone ? He had often enough seen
her in Mr. Halvard's company without discovering
anything disquieting in the situation. Why should he
find it disquieting now ? Why, above all, should he
not be able to shake off the feeling that he was an in-
truder ? For he had that feeling. It had been awfully
nice when he was there, of course, and they were very
glad to see him back again ; but hadn't it perhaps been
awfully nice without him ? Hadn't it, maybe, he asked
himself pathetically, in this latter case, even been
awfully nicer ? At all events, Sylvie's interest in the
Spanish chapel, which Mr. Halvard had so strangely
remarked upon, appeared to have completely vanished.
She inspected the remaining frescoes apathetically,

224 THE GENTLE LOVER

while she asked Allingham for an account of his trip to
Siena, with what he fancied to be an equal indifference.
Once he even saw her put up her small, beautifully
gloved hand to conceal a yawn. The yawn was uncon-
scious, almost imperceptible, yet abominably discour-
aging. He felt that he had grown dull. His attempts
to talk lightly seemed to arrive from an abysmal
distance, as if they were being pumped up, and with a
horrible creaking of machinery. The well of his vitality
was suddenly choked, and the stream that issued from
it was a weak and flat trickle. He recalled his journey
to Siena with a distressing sense of its futility. The
day-dreams he had indulged in during the past week
glittered now mockingly as from the high sun-touched
summit of an unscalable mountain.

Meanwhile he continued to speak of their trip — his
and Brian's — he even found an amusing story to tell.
And Sylvie laughed, and the story was not really
amusing.

They came away.

44 Do you remember that Mrs. Leslie I told you about
in Bruges ? You know — Brian and the handker-
chief ? " the girl asked.

Yes, he remembered.

" Well, she's actually turned up here and is coming
to dine with us to-night. Poor mamma one day, when
she was all alone, met her in the street, and of course
had no chance against her."

" Brian mentioned that she was here when we were
at Siena."

THE GENTLE LOVER 225

44 What did he say ? "

44 He had had a letter from your mother telling him
that Mrs. Leslie was in Florence."

44 But did he not say anything about her ? "

44 He said he rather liked her when he met her
before."

44 And nothing else ? "

44 He also said that you didn't like her."

44 You won't either ; but you'll soon be able to judge
for yourself."

They walked on, and, as he listened to her chatter,
gradually the feeling of suspicion passed from Ailing-
ham's mind, quite as inexplicably as it had come there.
It was like the lifting of a shadow, the fading of a
morbid dream. They walked slowly along the river
bank, and Sylvie told him that they had had a
visit from Flamel. She began to talk of the girl,
how Miss Kilronan had twice gone to try to see
her, but on each occasion had been met by Flamel
himself, with some excuse for not allowing her to
go in.

Abruptly, after a minute or two of silence, she said :
44 1 think I must have misled you, Mr. Allingham, by a
remark I made when we were down there in the
cloisters. Mr. Halvard knew I was going to Santa
Maria Novella this afternoon, and, though he did not
come with me, I expected to meet him there. Of
course the matter is of no importance, and I'm sure
I don't know why I should refer to it again, except
that it struck me at the time that the particular words

226 THE GENTLE LOVER

I used might have made you think I had met him by
chance.'*

Allingham had a sudden feeling of relief. " You are
very honest, Sylvie," he answered.

CHAPTER XXX

SYLVIE, as she came in and removed her outdoor
garments, felt vaguely dissatisfied with what had
taken place that afternoon. She had a pang of con-
science for the irritation with which, mentally, she had
greeted Allingham's unexpected appearance at the
Spanish chapel. Of course she had not shown it in
her manner — at least, she hoped she hadn't — but
Mr. Allingham had always been so kind, and somehow,
just before he had left her, he had looked so tired and
sad, that she felt guilty towards him. Compared
with Mr. Halvard's, his life seemed so lacking in
purpose, so empty, that one could not help pitying
him, Mr. Halvard lived in a perpetual atmosphere of
high thinking ; he had a work to do in the world, an
ideal constantly before him, a seriousness of purpose
which even those who were not in sympathy with
him must admire. And to set over against all this
Mr. Allingham had his water-colours !

She came into the empty drawing-room, bringing with
her the book Mr. Halvard had lent her. It was a
volume of Pater, and Sylvie sat down to read the
romance of Hippolytus. The perhaps over- seen ted

227

228 THE GENTLE LOVER

beauty of the writing meant little to her, was even
detrimental to the interest she took in the story ; but
Hippolytus himself, as she pictured him, had the gold
hair of Mr. Halvard. He had also Mr. Halyard's
clear, delicate skin, his finely-moulded features, his
beautiful forehead, his dark blue eyes, and his graceful
form. And there was, somehow, a good deal in the
story that helped to make the likeness more complete
— that element of idealism in the character of the
pagan youth, that power of renunciation, the renuncia-
tion of one's personal pleasures for the love of a
spiritual beauty.

She sank into a dream from which she was aroused
by Aunt Sophy, whose entrance she had been too
absorbed to notice. Yet Aunt Sophy appeared to
have been watching her, to have been reading her
thoughts.

" Was it Mr. Halvard who recommended that
book to you ? " she asked.

Sylvie coloured as she answered, " Yes."

" I met him this afternoon. He told me that he
had left you and Bennet Allingham in Santa Maria
Novella, looking at pictures."

" Yes."

" Is Bennet coming here to-night ? "

44 1 don't think he said so. I suppose he will be
coming. . . . Why are you gazing at me like that,
Aunt Sophy ? "

*4 My dear child, you must have a guilty conscience
if my looking at you makes you feel uncomfortable,

THE GENTLE LOVER 229

It was odd that you should all have chosen to visit the
same church on the same afternoon. Had you arranged
to meet Mr. Halvard there ? "

" Yes."

44 Why couldn't he have come here for you ? "

" It is out of his way."

" Is he so loath to go a little out of his way ? "

" I really don't know."

44 One can hardly imagine him taking Brian to
Siena for a week ! "

Sylvie raised her eyebrows as she fidgeted nervously
with her book. " I'm afraid I don't quite see the
connection. Why should he take Brian to Siena ? "

44 Why shouldn't he — as well as Bennet Allingham ? "

" I don't suppose there is any particular reason
except that Mr. Allingham has nothing very much to
do. At any rate, Brian wouldn't have wanted to go
with Mr. Halvard."

44 1 can quite believe that."

44 1 don't exactly see the point of all these remarks,
Aunt Sophy. I suppose they must have some mean-
ing."

44 1 had better make it a little plainer, then. Do
you prefer Mr. Halvard to Mr. Allingham ? "

Sylvie flushed again, this time with annoyance.
14 Really, Aunt Sophy, you ask the most extraordinary
questions ! — questions that I don't see that you have
any right to ask."

14 Don't answer them then. You needn't if you
don't want to."

230 THE GENTLE LOVER

Sylvie, with very bright eyes, returned to her book,
while Aunt Sophy, with her elbow on the mantel -piece,
seemed lost in thought.

Suddenly she broke silence with the remark : " My
dear niece, you are making a mistake."

" Am I ? " Sylvie murmured.

"It is always a mistake — well, perhaps I should
say a misfortune — when one fails to appreciate ; and
you must have failed to appreciate Bennet Allingham.
You are putting the lesser before the greater thing.
It is only from a distance that one can care for people
because of the work they happen to be doing."

" Has it never occurred to you, Aunt Sophy, that
perhaps you may have failed to appreciate Mr. Hal-
vard ? " Sylvie asked, with elaborate irony.

But irony when levelled against Aunt Sophy was
apt to fail.

" Never," she replied. " And it wouldn't matter if
I had."

'4 Why should it matter about me and Mr. Allingham,
then ? In any case I have always liked Mr. Allingham
very much indeed, so that your remarks seem a little
unnecessary."

44 Mr. Halvard doesn't like him, which is significant."

44 Has he ever told you that he doesn't ? "

44 He doesn't like me either," Aunt Sophy pursued,
44 and he detests Brian."

44 Oh, but you're only imagining all this ! " cried
Sylvie, impatiently. " Nobody could possibly detest
Brian, even if they wanted to."

THE GENTLE LOVER

231

" He likes influencing people — which is odious."

Sylvie might have retorted that it is a clergyman's
business to influence people, but she didn't think of
this till half an hour later. In the meantime she
sought refuge in the tragic fortunes of Hippolytus.

"It is the old contest between clericalism and
humanism. Mr. Halvard in an earlier age would
have broken statues and burned books, in spite of
his Greek Studies. Brian, you know, is a pagan."

Sylvie rose to her feet. " If you want to abuse my
brother, I don't think you need choose me for your
audience."

Aunt Sophy watched her sail out of the room with
the air of an insulted princess.

CHAPTER XXXI

WHEN Allingham arrived, rather late in the evening,
he saw Mrs. Leslie at once. She was seated near
the fireplace, and he was taken up to be introduced
to her. He was vividly conscious of a painted mouth,
of eyes that seemed veiled by a kind of dewy darkness,
and of a peculiarly feminine quality, something subtle
and indefinable, yet insistent as a perfume. Before
she spoke he knew exactly how she would speak — that
way of appealing, with parted lips and wondering
innocent eyes, that way of throwing little soft notes
into her voice, like a coaxing child. Allingham was
certain that she had been coaxing Mr. Halvard for at
least half an hour, for the young clergyman's hand-
some face was slightly flushed, and his smile self-
conscious. But Mrs. Leslie was full of attentions for
everybody. Her manner seemed to say : "I delight
in you all, you dear creatures. If you will only let me
love you, how happy I shall be." Mrs. Gregg, the
elderly, spectacled companion, who sat stiffly garbed
in beaded black, the outline of her stays prominent
beneath her bodice (" Every time she moves she
creaks," whispered Brian), was included in this invita-

232

THE GENTLE LOVER 238

tion ; and now that Allingham had entered it was ex-
tended to him also. But it was to Mr. Halvard, above
all, that she appeared to turn. Allingham wondered if,
like the red boy, he understood her ; if she had found
in him, too, a tower of manly strength.

He crossed the room to speak to Sophy Kilronan,
who, under the influence of the Mrs. Leslie motif, had
assumed a certain martial air. Sophy looked hand-
some and formidable in her cloudy, lustreless, black
lace gown, with its scarlet trimmings. Her black,
snapping eyes, her florid colouring, her commanding
air, and by no means inaudible tones, furnishing an
odd contrast with Mrs. Leslie's fluted softness. Sophy
was herself to-night, he saw ; and Sophy was never
more herself than when in the presence of somebody
very different.

Allingham stood before her. " This is a new work,
is it not ? " he drawled, pleasantly, looking at the
framed, hand-tinted photograph of a saint, which
hung on the wall above her head.

"It is a present from Mr. Halvard to Mrs. Grim-
shaw."

" Priceless thing ! " whispered Brian, lounging up,
and standing a little behind Allingham, his hands in
his pockets.

" It may not be to your taste," said Aunt Sophy,
" but as a rule one does not criticize presents. It was
very kind of Mr. Halvard to get it."

"If it had been anybody but Sassoferrato," mur-
mured the nephew. " Sassoferrato isn't kind, . . .

234 THE GENTLE LOVER

Besides, one does criticize presents, Aunt Sophy.
Perhaps one oughtn't to, but it is done. There is no
use pretending that I am the first."

" I see you're admiring my picture," Mrs. Grimshaw
called out to Allingham, with her vague little laugh.
"Mr. Halvard gave it to me. Isn't it a beautiful
head?"

" Charming — charming," Allingham murmured, and
Brian smiled at him ironically.

" You're a nice pair ! " said Miss Kilronan. " You're
very nearly as bad as Brian is, Bennet."

" What have I said, dear Sophy ? " Allingham asked,
with the surprise of innocence.

" It's not what you said : or, rather it is. You
know you don't think it charming."

" But what can I call it ? You don't want me to
call it vile ? "

" There was no need for you to take any notice of
it at all, in the first place."

Seeing that so much attention was being bestowed
upon a work of art, Mrs. Leslie rose from her chair, with a
pretty little, " Oh, may I see ? How perfectly sweet ! "

Mr. Halvard tried to look as if he had had nothing
to do with the picture, but everybody now gathered
about it. Mrs. Gregg inspected it solemnly through
very large, very round, and very golden spectacles,
heaving one of those creaking sighs which Brian had
referred to. (" It's either her jet ornaments or her
stays ; but it's an awfully rummy sound.")

" Do tell me about her ? " Mrs. Leslie appealed to

THE GENTLE LOVER 285

Mr. Halvard in infantile accents, turning her dewy
eyes from Saint Cecelia to the young man. " I know
you know all about her, and all about the other saints
too. I am so interested, but I am so ignorant. I
want to find out. I think they must have had such
beautiful natures ! Hadn't they ? Do tell me that
they had ! "

41 Without doubt some of them had very beautiful
natures," Mr. Halvard replied, solemnly.

44 Oh, I'm so glad you say so, because I know you
know."

44 Mr. Halvard knows more than that about them,"
cried Brian. " He's a hagiographer."

44 A what ? " Mrs. Leslie's eyes grew more wondering
than ever.

44 I'm sorry I can't enter into further details in
mixed company, but it's a fact."

Allingham and Miss Kilronan laughed, but Mr.
Halvard was annoyed, and darted a cold glance of
dislike at the boy.

44 He's raging because we're so vulgar," Brian
whispered.

44 Mr. Allingham says Mr. Halvard himself is like
Saint George," Mrs. Grimshaw volunteered, with her
little laugh.

Mrs. Leslie pounced on the comparison. 44 Saint
George ? How interesting ! Really, Mr. Allingham ?
A picture ? Can I see it in the gallery ? "

Mr. Halvard blushed.

44 If you go to Venice," said Allingham, indifferently.

236 THE GENTLE LOVER

" The picture Mrs. Grimshaw means is by Mantegna.
It happened to occur to me that there was a slight
resemblance, but probably I am maligning Mr. Hal-
vard — that is, if he doesn't admire Mantegna."

" Aunt Sophy thinks I'm like one of Perugino's
angels," said Brian, softly.

But Aunt Sophy was grim and unflattering. " If
you're like a work of art at all, it is one of those gar-
goyle creatures one sees on the roofs of cathedrals."

Allingham glanced at Sylvie, who alone had not
joined the group before the picture. The girl seemed
grave and preoccupied. There was something strange
in her manner, which he put down to the presence of
Mrs. Leslie. She had never cared for Mrs. Leslie, he
knew, but her former cause for dislike did not seem
to be in operation to-night, since, so far as he could
make out, that lady was not taking the slightest
notice of Brian. Indeed, she had once more drawn
Mr. Halvard to a chair beside her own, and was
apparently entering on an eager conversation con-
cerning the saints.

" I was an awful ass about what I told you in
Siena," Brian whispered to him, disgustedly, under
his breath. " Of course you knew that at the time,
but I am just finding it out."

" What has enlightened you ? " asked Allingham,
gently.

" The saints, I think. They were the finishing
touch, at any rate. She wanted to commiserate with
me, too, when Aunt Sophy said I was like a gargoyle."

THE GENTLE LOVER 237

He made an expressive grimace. " I am going to
talk to Gregg."

Allingham laughed, but Brian went over and sat
down beside the expansive and creaking lady, who
turned her large, glittering spectacles upon him, and
addressed him, suspiciously, as " young sir."

It was not till she had risen to say good-night that
Mrs. Leslie broached the subject of an excursion to
the Certosa, which she wished, it appeared, to under-
take in the company of the others. They were to
drive to the monastery and come back to lunch with
her.

44 You will come, dear Mrs. Grimshaw, won't you ? "
she begged prettily, and Mrs. Grimshaw of course
thought it would be very nice, though her last words
came out in an extraordinary frozen gurgle, owing to
the ferocious signs of refusal which Sylvie had begun
to make behind Mrs. Leslie's back. The poor lady's
eyes were fastened upon her daughter, and the little
smile with which she had welcomed the proposal died
gradually into a fixed and startled stare as she con-
cluded her acceptance of it. But after this, the others
were obliged to accept too ; and the excursion, in
spite of Sylvie, was arranged for the next day.

CHAPTER XXXII

MRS. LESLIE had wondered a great deal as to how
she ought to dispose her guests in the two conveyances
that were waiting before the door of her hotel, but
when it actually came to the point, she solved the
problem by taking possession of Mr. Halvard and
Mrs. Grimshaw for her own carriage.

Allingham, at least, had no fault to find with this
arrangement, and Brian was to go on the box beside
the coachman. Then, at the last moment, Mrs.
Gregg discovered that, for reasons which remained
deeply mysterious, she could not come. She stood in
the porch and watched them depart, with an expres-
sion of resentment on her large and gloomy countenance.
A gold locket, rising and falling upon her capacious
bosom, glittered in the sun.

" I'm sure she has a photograph of Gregg, now
happily deceased, in that locket," said Brian. " I'm
going to ask her to show it to me."

Their drive, once they had passed the Porta Romana,
lay along a monotonous high road, and Sylvie, who
had not disguised her unwillingness to join the ex-
pedition at all, now made no pretence of being pleased

THE GENTLE LOVER 239

with it. Her brother's supplications to her to " cheer
up " produced an exactly contrary effect. Allingham
had never seen her in this mood before, and it perplexed
him. She seemed lost in melancholy, but Aunt Sophy
presently applied another epithet to it.

" If you're going to sit and sulk all the time, you
would have done much better to have stayed at home."

44 I'm not sulking, and I would have stayed at home
if you and mamma hadn't made such a fuss. Any-
thing is better than being nagged at."

" Nobody made a fuss but yourself. You ought
to be ashamed — behaving like a spoiled child."

Sylvie relapsed into unfathomable silence, nor did
she open her lips during the remainder of the drive.

After a time, where the narrow path to the monastery
mounts up, they all got out, but Mr. Halvard was still
Mrs. Leslie's companion, and Mrs. Leslie, who had
remarkably pretty feet, had stopped to have her shoe tied.

The monastery, with its bell-tower, stood out against
the clear sky, a little above them, at the top of the hill.
Brian, in high spirits, slinging his camera over his
shoulder, passed his arm through Miss Kilronan's.

44 May I take your arm, Aunt Sophy ; or do you
think it sentimental ? "

44 1 think it exactly what it is," his aunt replied,
shaking him off.

At the gate they had to wait for Mr. Halvard and
Mrs. Leslie to come up with them.

44 4 The monastery, which is approaching dissolu-
tion,' " Brian read aloud from Baedeker, 44 ' and

240 THE GENTLE LOVER

contains a few inmates only, was founded in 1341 by
Niccolo Acciajuoli, a Florentine who had settled at
Naples and there amassed a large fortune by trading.
The porter (1-2 persons, 50 centimes) shows the
church, or rather the series of chapels of which it
consists, and the monastery with its various cloisters.'
... At this point, Sylvie, ring the bell."

Sylvie was about to do so, when her mother stopped
her.

" Nonsense, dear ; we must wait for the others. . . .
though I'm sure I don't know why they're taking so
long."

" Here they come ! " Brian cried. " Ring, Sylvie ! "

In answer to their summons a monk in a white robe
appeared, and conducted them up a long flight of steps
to the chapel. They followed him with the slightly
sheepish air characteristic of such parties, Brian still
reading from Baedeker.

44 4 Magnificent pavement and fine carved stalls (of
1590) ; over the altar, Death of Saint Bruno, a fresco
by Poccetti.' Have you got it, mamma ? "

Mrs. Grimshaw peered about her with a bewildered
air. " Yes. ... At least, I suppose that is it over
there," she added doubtfully.

Mrs. Leslie turned round to ask Mr. Halvard's
opinion, but she found only Allingham, to whom she
gave one of her sweet appealing smiles. Mr. Halvard
had dropped behind, and, with Sylvie, stood gazing at
an uninteresting altar-piece, while the monk smiled
patiently as his little flock straggled after him. He

THE GENTLE LOVER 241

addressed most of his remarks to Brian and Mrs.
Grimshaw, who alone appeared to thirst for informa-
tion. Allingham could hear the boy's voice in the
distance, still reading aloud to his mother, with a note
of high enjoyment.

" ' A staircase to the right descends to a chapel with
the tombs of the Acciajuoli. . . . Three marble slabs,
that of a Young Warrior by Donatello.' Have you
got them, mamma ? "

" No— unless these are they ? "
" Unless those is them, you mean."
" Hush, dear, remember you are in a church."
They came out into the cloisters, which surrounded
a garden of fruit-trees and flowers and vegetables, with
an old well in the centre. The monk took them into
one of the little red-roofed houses. It had two small
rooms, and at the back a kind of verandah from which
they had a view of the whole sweeping valley, with its
vineyards and olives, its winding stream. On the hill-
tops were bell-towers softly coloured to the landscape,
and a streak of blue smoke curled up lazily against the
sky. It was all very old and quiet and peaceful, though
they suddenly came into touch with the outer world
again, when their cicerone directed them to a room
where liqueur was sold. Our travellers, under the
influence of the mild blandishments of the monk in
charge, purchased bottles of this preparation with a
confidence which subsequent investigation proved to
have been misplaced.

Coming out, they loitered in the little turreted court,

Q

242 THE GENTLE LOVER

Brian insisting on taking a photographic group. It
was only then that they discovered Sylvie and Mr.
Halvard to be missing. When they reached the
carriages they found them there, waiting ; they had
gone on ahead, it appeared, while the others had been
making purchases. The girl was radiant with a
beautiful happiness which shone in her eyes and in her
smile. Mr. Halvard, too, seemed to be in excellent
spirits. His expression was strangely softened, and
the formality of his manner had miraculously given
place to an unaccustomed boyishness that was in-
finitely more attractive. He and Sylvie declared their
intention of walking back to Florence, but Mrs. Leslie
immediately nipped this scheme in the bud.

" You're all to come to lunch, you know, and if you
walk you'll be dreadfully late. It's really much farther
than you imagine."

It was impossible to insist. Moreover, it appeared
that they were to drive home in the same order as they
had come. Again, Miss Kilronan and her nephew did
most of the talking. Sylvie, her eyes fixed dreamily on
the slowly passing landscape, scarcely spoke, and
Allingham too was silent. But the girl's quiet was
very different from that which had held her on their
drive out. In her expression now there was a deep
and wonderful happiness, something that lent an
exquisite quality of tenderness to her beauty. She had
never yet, Allingham thought, looked so lovely. In her
eyes was a kind of strange, hushed wonder that filled
him with awe. No man could be worthy of that look

THE GENTLE LOVER

243

— neither he, nor Mr. Halvard, nor anybody else. And
yet he felt that Mr. Halvard had inspired it. . . An
intense sadness took possession of him, not wholly sel-
fish, for it was without bitterness. . . . And the
others noticed nothing, or seemed to notice nothing,
Well, he had discovered at last the answer to his
question. He was too old. Twenty years ago he
might have found happiness, though twenty years ago
he would not have understood.

CHAPTER XXXIII

DURING the next two or three days Allingham seemed
to have been seized with a sudden zeal for painting.
He went out early in the morning, and remained out
all day. On one of these occasions he had been
accompanied by Brian, but on the others he had gone
alone. His search for subjects, moreover, seemed to
lead him far afield, and on his return he was apparently
too tired to pay his usual visit at Casa Grimshaw. Nor,
during all these days, had he once set eyes upon Mr.
Halvard. He had gone out before the young clergy-
man had come down in the morning, and had gone to
bed before he had returned at night. On the evening of
the fourth day he met him. Mr. Halvard had come
back earlier than usual, and they met in the hall.
Allingham was astonished at his altered appearance,
and still more by the alteration in his manner. The
measure of this latter change he could gauge from the
fact that it no longer struck him as being in the least
ecclesiastic. On the other hand, it was not boyish, as
on that morning of their excursion to the Certosa ; it
was simply irritable and nervous. He had no chance
to achieve a more particular analysis, for Mr. Halvard

244

THE GENTLE LOVER 245

almost at once pleaded a letter that must be written, and
that he had come home early on purpose to write.
Though the interview had been brief, Allingham,
nevertheless, as he sat alone in the smoking-room,
found in it abundant food for thought.

The result of his meditations did not appear to be
particularly inspiriting. The main thing that emerged
from them was a sense that they ought to have taken
place several days earlier. The whole matter was a
dubious one, and he wished he could have claimed to
be disinterested ; but to delay longer, now that he had
so tardily realised his peculiar responsibility, would be
positively wrong.

He got up and went to the writing-room. Only a
single lamp was turned on, just above the table at which
Mr. Halvard sat staring into the darkness of the great
empty room ; but it revealed with a startling vividness
the young man's face, and it was not the face of a
happy lover.

" Have you finished ? " Allingham asked ; for
Mr. Halvard was not writing, though a sheet of
blank paper lay before him, and he held a pen in his
hand.

" No," Mr. Halvard replied, in a tone that did not
invite further interruption.

"You might let me know when you have," said
Allingham softly. " There is something I want to
talk to you about."

" To talk to me about ? " Mr. Halvard frowned.
" If it's not of vital importance, perhaps it will do in

246 THE GENTLE LOVER

the morning. I'm tired, and I'm busy. At any rate,
I won't have finished for another hour."

" I shan't keep you long," said Allingham, sitting
down. " It will do at the end of an hour."

" Are you going to wait there ? "

Allingham leaned back in the armchair and stretched
his legs. " Why not ? I have nothing particular to
do."

" You are surely very eager to have this conversa-
tion ! "

" Yes ; I am rather eager."

Mr. Halvard flung down his pen with a nervous
petulance. " If it matters so much as all that, you had
better tell me what it is at once, and I can do my
writing later."

;t Well, you see, in my opinion, it does matter. It
matters a good deal," Allingham said. " It is about a
talk you and I had on a certain occasion — the evening,
in fact, when I first took you to the Grimshaw's. It
was on our way home that we talked. Perhaps you
remember what we said ? "

" I can't say that I do," Mr. Halvard replied
coldly.

4 You were telling me about your views in regard to
the celibacy of the clergy."

" Yes ? " And Mr. Halvard flushed.

" I merely want to know if you still hold the same
views ? "

There was a pause for perhaps half a minute, during
which Allingham did not remove his eyes from the face

THE GENTLE LOVER 247

of the young man before him. Then Mr. Halvard said,
" Might I ask why ? "

44 1 think you can guess why."

41 I'm sorry that I can't. In fact, I can't even guess
how it concerns you at all what views I may hold upon
any subject."

The discourtesy of this remark was so uncharacteristic
that Allingham felt a little pang of pity for its author.
44 1 am concerned," he said quietly, 44 because it was I
who first took you to Mrs. Grimshaw's house."

44 And what has that to do with it ? "

44 It has a great deal to do with it. In fact so much
that, if you have not already told Mrs. Grimshaw
what you mentioned to me, I am afraid I shall be
obliged to tell her myself. I am going there to-morrow
evening."

Mr. Halvard had turned very white. And then,
whether they were tears of rage or not, Allingham,
with an odd little pang of compassion, saw tears
spring to his eyes. He looked away as the young
clergyman replied, 44 Miss Grimshaw knows my opinions
on all such questions."

44 Her mother must know too," Allingham persisted,
wearily. 44 Of course, if you have altered your opinion,
it is another matter. . . . Well, that is what I had
to say. . . . Good-night."

He lingered for a minute or two before he went out,
but Mr. Halvard made no reply.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THEY did not meet next morning, but in the afternoon
he overtook the young clergyman at the corner of the
Ponte Vecchio. He was rather surprised to see him
at this particular hour, apparently on his way back to
the hotel. Their greeting was cold, but, as both were
proceeding in the same direction, they could not avoid
walking together. They had not gone many yards,
however, when a dark, dingy figure confronted them,
emerging from the shadow of a doorway, and standing
directly in their path. Allingham looked at the white
face, with its ugly, lipless mouth, at the little glittering
eyes that shone under bushy eyebrows, at the thick
long body and short legs. He had not seen him since
the night of the seance, and here, in daylight, Flamel
seemed, somehow, both more shabby and more ordinary
than he had imagined him to be.

" Gentlemen," he began, but Mr. Halvard, who had
darted a single glance at the Medium, shook him off,
without returning his salute. Most illogically, this
procedure, which he would himself have adopted at
another time, now awakened in Allingham a desire to
let Flamel have his way.

248

THE GENTLE LOVER 249

4 What is it ? " he asked.

The plan was not successful, for Mr. Halvard simply
stepped on to the road and continued his way, leaving
Allingham to confront the Medium alone.

Flamel gazed after the retreating figure of the young
man with a curious and not at all attractive expression
in his little eyes. Then he hurried after Allingham,
who had begun to walk on again. Instead of returning
to the hotel, however, the latter made his way to the
cafe in the Piazza della Signoria, where they sat down.
Their walk had been accomplished in silence, and now,
still in silence, they faced each other across a table.

The Medium, to Allingham's surprise, would accept
only a cup of tea. " I suppose you are astonished to see
me in Florence," he began, in his deep rich voice. " And
I remember our last meeting was a little unfortunate.
Since then I have made the acquaintance of your
friends — all except the brave young man who saved
my daughter's life. I went to see him once, but he was
not there. I shall try again, for I must thank him
personally."

"It is quite unnecessary," said Allingham. " In
fact, I am sure he would much rather you said nothing
about it."

" I must go ; I must go," Flamel repeated, his bright
little eyes fixed on his companion's. They seemed
curiously, uncannily alive and alert in the white, dead
mask of his face, and Allingham, characteristically,
began to speculate on the nature of the soul that
inhabited so unshapely a body. He had an instinctive

250 THE GENTLE LOVER

desire to prevent the Medium from going near either
Brian or Sylvie. It was not that he imagined they
could suffer any harm from him ; it was difficult to
know what his feeling was. And Flamel went
on :

" You were prejudiced against me. You did not
believe in the manifestations."

" Hadn't we better leave all that kind of thing
alone ? It really does not interest me. When I
came to your seance it was merely to accompany my
friend."

" And he— has he lost his interest ? "

" In spiritualism ? Yes, I think so."

The Medium sighed. " He is interested in the
beautiful young lady. I have seen them together. I
have watched them."

He paused, and, with his fat hands folded on his
stomach, studied his companion in quietude. Ailing-
ham found this inspection distinctly offensive. It was
apparently a trick of FlamePs ; perhaps a part of his
trade. It was as if he were searching for some breach
by which he might enter the mind of his interlocutor
and read his secret thoughts and desires. But at the
end of it all what he actually said was, " You would
like me to tell you about myself ? "

" I had no intention of asking you to do so," Ailing-
ham replied in astonishment.

The Medium smiled. " You know why we came
here ? We came to give seances to some scientific
gentlemen ; but they were sceptical, and at the second

THE GENTLE LOVER 251

sitting thought they had discovered trickery, and
refused to go on."

" And your daughter ? "

" Naturally it affected her very painfully. The
distrust — you can understand — she brooded over
that. To a sensitive nature such things mean much.
And my daughter, especially, cannot live except in the
vibrations of love. To be turned out of the house ; to
hear her father called a cheat, an impostor — she could
not bear it. Yet if she had been drowned I do not
suppose these Americans would have considered
themselves guilty of murder ! Fortunately she has
quite recovered."

" Why don't you give it all up ?" said Allingham,
gravely. " I take you to be an intelligent man. Surely
you could find some less precarious means of existence."

" You do not understand. It is the work, the
glorious work, that calls us. We are ready to accept
martyrdom. The Nazarene Himself met with unbelief,
I do not deny that at present we are in difficulties,
financial difficulties. I do not deny that a temporary
loan — even should it be a small one — would be grate-
fully accepted."

Allingham took out his pocket-book and drew from it
a note, which he placed on the table beside the Medium's
empty tea-cup. " I cannot renew this," he said.

But Flamel apparently had not even observed his
action. He was bending slightly to one side. " Thank
you, dear ones," he murmured. Then he looked at
Allingham with a smile. " They are always with me,"

252 THE GENTLE LOVER

he said softly, " breathing encouragement, breathing
love-messages. I feel them near. It is comforting
in a strange city."

A couple of loud raps at that moment exploded
behind Allingham's back, and irritated him intensely.
He got up, and the Medium also rose on his short legs,
holding out an unclean hand, which for some reason,
quite other than that of its dirt, Allingham felt a strong
aversion from touching. But he conquered his reluct-
ance, though as he walked away he felt an unaccount-
able depression that was almost a disgust of life.

CHAPTER XXXV

ON coming down to dinner he was not greatly surprised
to find Mr. Halyard's place vacant. Probably the
young man had gone out to dine at a restaurant in
order to avoid him. If that were so, the sooner they
separated the better ; and he wondered when Mr.
Halvard would be returning to England. After all,
his six weeks could not last for ever. In the meantime,
what Allingham had got to do was to speak to Sophy
and come to a clear understanding of the whole
situation.

When he had finished his lonely repast he wandered
into the smoking-room, and listlessly turned over an
illustrated paper. He had flung it aside and was just
lighting another cigar, preparatory to going out, when
the door opened and Brian entered. The red boy came
straight across the floor to where Allingham sat. With-
out speaking, he took a chair close by, and laid his
straw hat, with an appearance of great carefulness,
on the carpet beside him. As Allingham watched him,
he knew that something had happened, but Brian
seemed in no hurry to tell him what it was.

"Papa is not coming after all," he began, and

253

254 THE GENTLE LOVER

then immediately added, " Can we talk here all
right ? "

" How do you mean ? "

" Will anybody come in ? "

" I shouldn't think so. It is not an attractive spot."
This was true, the room and all its furnishings being
dismal as a dentist's parlour.

" He's put it off again. We had a letter to-day."

Allingham glanced at his own letters — two or three
of a highly uninteresting appearance, which the hall-
porter had just brought him, and which he felt no
impatience to open. " What is the matter ? " he
asked.

" With papa ? "

"No; with you."

Brian gazed at him solemnly before he replied, and
his reply took the form of a question. " Where is Mr.
Halvard ? "

Allingham started. A wild idea, which he instantly
recognized as absurd, flashed across his mind.

" I don't know. ... I haven't seen him since this
afternoon."

" And he didn't tell you anything."

" Tell me anything ? ... He never tells me
anything."

" About going away. . . . He's gone. ... He left
this afternoon."

"But what for ?"

Brian shook his head. " He's gone to Pisa. I asked
your porter here when I came in, and he told me he had

THE GENTLE LOVER 255

left for Pisa two hours ago. ... He wanted to
be recommended to an hotel there, and the porter
wired to engage a room for him."

On this Allingham's eyes met Brian's in a long,
searching gaze. " But do you mean that he's gone —
not to come back ? "

Brian nodded.

The further question that rose to Allingham's lips
died without having been spoken, and the boy went on
hurriedly, " We didn't know anything about it till this
afternoon, or this morning — I'm not sure which. . . .
I didn't see him : I was out. Not that I wanted to
see him. I always hated him."

His face had flushed, and his eyes shone with an
expression of mingled rage and contempt, which re-
vealed a good deal to Allingham. As often before, so
now, in the silence that ensued, there seemed to pass
between them all, or more than all, that words could
have conveyed.

44 Perhaps he was obliged to go," Allingham sug-
gested lamely. It was only a little tribute to appear-
ances, for he knew that Brian knew.

" They won't tell me anything," the boy pursued,
speaking quickly, in a low voice. " Nobody says any-
thing when I am in the room. When he called, when
he said good-bye, he did not see anybody but Sylvie.
That is, if he did call. He may only have written to
her. It was Aunt Sophy who told us — about his having
gone away."

44 Are they — is everybody ? "

256 THE GENTLE LOVER

" I haven't seen Sylvie, except at dinner to-night.
. . . She doesn't say anything. Don't you see how
horrible it must be for her ? How can she explain ?
And mamma keeps on talking and wondering, though
Aunt Sophy tries to stop her. Everybody really
understands except mamma, who keeps suggesting
that we might ask him over to Ireland when we go
back. It is all horrible for Sylvie."

44 But how do you know ? " asked Allingham,
nervously.

" I know — I know. You will know, too, when you
see her."

"See Sylvie? Is she ?"

Brian regarded him absently. " What ? . . . You
must come to-morrow. You will be able to talk to her.
The others are different. ..."

44 How can I talk to her ? I am comparatively a
stranger."

44 You're not," the boy protested passionately.
44 You're the only one really who isn't a stranger. You
understand. She knows you understand. I am no
use, and must pretend that I see nothing. . . And I
had even stopped saying that I disliked Mr. Halvard,"
he finished, with a strange little laugh.

Allingham suddenly found words. 44 What do you
know about Mr. Halvard ? " he demanded, with a
certain harshness.

Brian gazed at him mournfully for a moment or two
before replying.

44 1 know that he has run away ; that he has drawn

THE GENTLE LOVER

257

back. But he might have gone sooner ; he might

ive gone without first having made sure that — that
re wanted him to stay."

" You think he doesn't care ? "

" Not enough, I suppose. We are different, I dare-
say, from the people he has been accustomed to. We
haven't been to Oxford. We aren't grand or rich

or 1 don't know what it is. ... Perhaps it is Mrs.

Leslie. lie has been to see her nearly every day, and
they talk about things together. She pretends
that he has shown her a new way of looking at
life."

44 How do you know ? " Allingham mechanically
repeated, though he was conscious that the question
had now begun to sound like a refrain.

" I know what I've heard and seen in our own house.
I'm not a fool. She's going to Pisa too, if she hasn't
already started."

" How do Who told you that ? "

"Nobody told me. I feel it. She'll go; she'll

go."

Allingham was silent while he looked at his young
companion with a dawning perception that they were
talking too freely. He hesitated on the words he was
about to utter, but he had already gone so far, and
Brian seemed to have guessed so much, that there was
little use in keeping them back. " I may as well tell
you that Mr. Halvard mentioned to me once that he
believed a clergyman had no right to marry."

Brian wag not astonished,

258 THE GENTLE LOVER

"That is what they talk about," he said, dejectedly,
— " he and Mrs. Leslie. She tells him what a beautiful
soul he has ; what a beautiful life he leads ; how she
has been ever so much better since she has known him.
She said the same kind of thing to me, and I was only a
kid — and not even a particularly nice kid. Of course,

with me it wasn't about religion she talked, but

You remember the sickening stuff I made you listen to
that Sunday in Siena ! Well, you can imagine what
it was like when I was with her ! When she had done
yarning to me I used to lie awake and think what a fine

chap I must be. And on the last evening of all

Phh ! " His disgust was inexpressible.

Allingham, however, was thinking of something

else. " Supposing he really " He stopped short,

and then went on with a curious impatience : "I
don't believe he cared a straw for Mrs. Leslie. He
only went to see her because he was worried, and wanted
to have his conscience bolstered up, poor devil ; not
because he had any high opinion of her. He had more
insight than that. . . . And somehow his having left in

such a hurry seems even to prove " He paused

again, as if he hadn't quite decided yet what it did
prove. " He may have gone simply to turn the ques-
tion quietly over in his own mind. He may intend to
come back."

" Oh, he won't come back," said Brian with convic-
tion. " Don't you see that even if Sylvie knew he
cared for her she could do nothing to bring him back.
She would even help him to go. She would tell him to

THE GENTLE LOVER 259

, she would make him go, if she believed he believed
it was his duty. She is that sort. I know what she's
like."

Allingham said nothing, and the boy went on, as if
he had been thinking it all over for days back. " She
has a way of idealizing people, and the more rotten
they are, the more she likes to trust them. Just
because Mr. Halvard was so full of himself, and talked
such a lot, she thought him wonderful. I don't under-
stand why that sort of thing should have gone down
with her, but it did. She's got an idea about him now,
that nothing will ever alter. You and I don't count.
We're not great men with great souls. He tried to
talk to me once in that fashion, about something he
called Purity. He seemed to take it for granted that I
had a rather nasty mind, and must be warned of all
the dangers it was pretty sure to lead me into. He
nearly made me sick, and I pretended I didn't know
what he meant, until he got mad and was almost going
to hit me. But he never tried it on again. ... In a
way I can't help feeling frightfully glad that he's gone.
That is, sometimes I'm glad, and sometimes I'm
angry."

Allingham looked at him doubtfully, but he could
think of nothing to say. It seemed to him that Brian
must know of his own attachment to Sylvie, or he
wouldn't have spoken as he had spoken. But if he
knew, for how long had he known, and how had he
guessed it ? Had he guessed it at Siena — or even
earlier ? Had anybody else guessed it ?

260 THE GENTLE LOVER

44 I must go back," the boy said, " or they will
wonder what has happened to me, and ask questions."

" Shall I come with you ? "

" Whatever you like. Mamma, of course, will be
there."

" Well, I will come part of the way in any case."

They went out together, and Allingham went all the
way, though he did not go in. It would be better to
wait till the morning, when he could see Sophy by her-
self. Besides, he wanted to think things over. Brian,
for some reason, now that he had poured out every-
thing to his friend, had suddenly become so shy and
reserved that Allingham could scarcely drag a word out
of him.

But as they stood on the door-step he abruptly
asked : " Will you be going to the Boboli Gardens to-
morrow, Mr. Allingham ? "

44 I don't know. Why ? "

" Sylvie will be there, I am sure. She often goes
there with Graf, and I am sure she will go to-morrow."

" At what time ? "

44 In the morning. Any time before lunch."

CHAPTER XXXVI

HE did not in the least expect to receive a letter from
Mr. Halvard, though on coming downstairs, after a
restless and sleepless night, he went to the office to
inquire if one had arrived. There was nothing, and
when he had finished his coffee it was still too early
to go to Casa Grimshaw. His fellow-guests, indeed,
were only beginning to straggle down, singly or in
couples, with their Baedekers in their hands or pockets,
their opera-glasses and umbrellas, all ready for the
passionate pursuit of art. Allingham, reclining in a
wicker arm-chair in the hall, his soft black hat tilted
over his eyes, must have presented an odd enough
appearance at this hour, which was an unusual one to
choose for a siesta.

At ten o'clock he decided that he might pay his visit,
and went out. He wanted particularly to see Sophy,
and he congratulated himself on his good luck when he
found her alone. She was standing at a table, arrang-
ing flowers in a vase, snipping their stems with a pair of
scissors, and looking very much as usual.

" I'm glad you called, Bennet," she said. " We have
missed you during the last few days, and were beginning

261

262 THE GENTLE LOVER

to think all our friends had deserted us. Don't mind
my hat ; I'm not going out. I have just come in. I
went to buy these flowers at the little English shop at
the corner — you know the one. They're rather dilapi-
dated, I'm afraid, but they were all I could get. I asked
the woman — more in the way of conversation than any-
thing else — if they were fresh, and she answered, " I
shan't deceive you ; they are not." What is one to do
when people are so distressingly honest ? I felt I
simply had to buy a few, though I knew they'd worry
me every time I looked at them. An Italian would
have told me that she'd gathered them herself, five
minutes ago, in her own garden, and I should have been
perfectly happy."

" I was afraid I was too early," said Allingham. " I
had no idea you were so energetic in the mornings."
He picked up a yellow-covered railway-guide that was
lying on the table, and regarded it dejectedly, with its
suggestions of Pisa and Mr. Halvard.

" What have you been studying this f or ? " he
presently asked, conscious of a nervousness he had not
anticipated.

" I don't know. I rather like railway-guides. Be-
sides, we have been talking of wintering in Rome."
He stared. " In Rome ! "
" Yes."

" I thought you were going to winter in Florence.
Your plans seem always to take me by surprise."

41 Oh, we'll not be so sudden about this as we were
about Bruges. We'll have, for one thing, to get these

THE GENTLE LOVER

rooms off our hands. ... I suppose you know that
Mr. Halvard has departed ? " she added, with a snip
of her scissors.

" Yes, but I only found out last night. He didn't
say good-bye to me."

Sophy administered another snip, and then stepped
back to contemplate her floral decorations. " It is
evidently not his custom to bid farewells," she said,
with her head on one side. " He hadn't even the
civility to say good-bye to us, though he lunched here
the day before he left. Sylvie appears to have had a
note from him ; that is all we know."

" Perhaps he was called away suddenly," Allingham
proposed, without conviction.

" So that is the last of him," Sophy concluded,
ignoring this half-hearted suggestion.

44 Do you think he isn't coming back, then ? "

44 1 do."

44 Why ? "

44 For one thing, because Sylvie says he isn't ; and
for another, because he ran away. That is what I
like least about the business. Nobody could have
forced him to stay against his will. He might have
gone perfectly naturally, the recipient of all our
blessings ; but this other manner of sneaking off is
unpleasant ; it is even suspicious. It makes one feel
inclined to count the spoons."

44 What do you suspect, Sophy ? "

44 That he said more than he intended to, and then
took this brilliant way of getting out of it."

264 THE GENTLE LOVER

Allingham gazed at the fussy little gilt clock on the
mantelpiece. It had always irritated him. " Is that
why you are leaving Florence ? "

u You mean, are we going in pursuit ? No, Bennet.
The idea is a beautiful one, and does infinite credit to
your delicacy, but it had not occurred to us."

44 He was always here, wasn't he ? " said poor
Allingham, dismally.

44 Yes ; not quite so much latterly. But that week
when you and Brian were in Siena he was never out
of the house. Of course, we encouraged him. There
is no use pretending we didn't. But our encourage-
ment was very innocent, and he must have been a
fool if he thought he had to run away from it."

44 1 don't think he was a fool."

'4 Then do you think we weren't innocent ? Well,
I don't think he was a fool either, but I gave him the
benefit of the doubt."

Allingham made a movement of impatience, or
perhaps of some stronger feeling.

44 You do not like all this, Bennet ? Yet I suppose
you came to hear it."

44 1 didn't know what I should hear," he answered.

44 Well, don't get cross. The really unfortunate
thing is that the child seems to have cared for him.
She has said nothing ; but she looks wretched. . . .
Of course she is young, and has plenty of time to get
over it ; but she looks positively ill. . . . Still, it is
better that he should discover his mistake now, I
suppose, than later on."

THE GENTLE LOVER 265

14 His mistake ? "

" Well, if he doesn't really care for her as much as
he imagined he did, what else can you call it ? "

Allingham groaned.

" But she won't tell us anything. She pretends to
regard the whole thing as perfectly natural, perfectly
what everybody had expected ; to treat it as if it were
just such a matter as your and Brian's trip to
Siena. Last night she went to bed early, but this
morning she has gone out to give Graf his walk just as
usual."

* You knew Mr. Halvard's views on marriage, I
suppose ? That he didn't think a clergyman ought
to marry ? "

" How in the world should I know his views ? I
fancy, if he left the child, it wasn't on account of his

views."

" I don't know. I don't think you understood
him."

41 But then you never think I understand anybody,
Bennet."

" He was, in some ways, remarkable. I am inclined
to believe that he does care for her. On that day of
Mrs. Leslie's excursion I was certain of it. What
does her mother say ? "

" The less her mother says about anything the
better, as at present she seems only capable of saying
the wrong things. Lucy never had a great deal of
sense ; but just now she is positively amazing. She
keeps planning to ask him to the house as soon as they

266 THE GENTLE LOVER

get home. I think she was half in love with him
herself. I must confess I liked him, too — in a way.
We all liked him."

44 Brian didn't."

44 Oh, but Brian likes nobody. He doesn't count."

44 1 fancy he likes most things that are worth liking."

" Well, if that is another way of saying he likes you,
we'll let it pass. You liked Mr. Halvard, didn't you ? "

44 No ; I detested him."

Sophy turned round at this. 4t What on earth did
you drag him about with you for, then ? " she de-
manded sharply,

44 We got on very well till he came to Florence ; but
here we saw too much of each other."

44 Well, it can't be helped now," she sighed, relin-
quishing her flowers and sitting down in a chair opposite
Allingham's.

" I feel in a way responsible for all this," Allingham
went on. 44 It was I who brought him here."

44 Oh, don't start that, Bennet ! I have quite
enough to worry me. And at any rate you warned us.
I remember your talking to me about him on the very
first night."

44 What I didn't do, and what I should have done
when I saw him coming here so often, was to tell you
of these extraordinary views he held."

44 1 don't think it would have made the slightest
difference. Sylvie, poor child, is as obstinate as a
mule ; and her mother would never have forbidden
him the house."

THE GENTLE LOVER 267

" A word from you, if it had come soon enough,
might have made a great difference."

" Well, there's no use going back over it all now.
What is done can't be undone. We must leave it
to time. And if we go to Rome "

" I don't believe in this plan of going to Rome,"
said Allingham, impatiently. " What do you expect
Rome to do for you ? "

He had risen, and he listened to the rest of Sophy's
explanation while he grasped the handle of the door.
" It will be a change, a distraction," she said ; " there
will be more to do. There's absolutely nothing to do
here, except look at pictures. Sylvie herself wants to
go. I could see that when I mentioned it this morn-
ing. . . . But I hear Lucy in the distance. You'd
better fly while you have still time. Come and dine
with us to-night, and we can talk things over."

Allingham turned the handle and held the door
slightly ajar. " I'll come if I can," he said, " but I
won't promise. If I don't come to-night, I'll try to
come to-morrow. You'll not be doing anything before
then, I suppose ? "

" No, of course not. Don't be silly."

" Good-bye, Sophy."

" Good-bye ; and for goodness' sake don't worry
about your responsibility, as you call it. You had
no more to do with the matter than the Man in
the Moon."

CHAPTER XXXVII

HE passed down the stone stairs and out into the
street, where a few minutes' walk brought him to the
Boboli Gardens. Here he proceeded at random along
the quiet, winding, somewhat dingy paths, under the
nearly naked chestnut trees, by dry fountains and
discoloured statues. He appeared to have the place
almost to himself, save for a few children who were
playing about the amphitheatre terraces. The melan-
choly of approaching winter hung over everything ;
was in the dampness of the air, in the bareness of the
trees, in the faded tints of the draggled, neglected grass.
If Sylvie were in the garden he could hardly miss her,
he thought ; but he was by no means sure that she
would be here. Moreover, would she want him ?
He had nothing but Brian's word for it, and Brian
might be quite mistaken.

He reached an open glade, carpeted by thin yellow
grass, and surrounded by chestnut trees, whose fallen,
unswept leaves rustled beneath his tread. And there,
on a stone bench, he saw her, with Graf lying at her
feet. In the stillness of the gardens she had heard his
step, and her grey eyes looked straight into his as, in
defiance of all regulations, he came to her across the

268

THE GENTLE LOVER 269

grass. Graf rose lazily and wagged a languid tail,
recognizing a friend, but one of minor importance,
who did not live in the house.

" I'm afraid I'm disturbing your solitude," Ailing-
ham said. " Do you mind ? "

44 I am very glad. ... I have not been here long.
They happened to be opening the gates when I was
passing, so I came in."

Her face was pale, but he had been prepared for this,
and what really struck him about her more than
anything else was an impression of an extraordinary
courage in the face of life. It was there in the soft,
wonderful smile with which she greeted him, it was
there in the way she met his eyes, so frankly, without
embarrassment, though she must have known he
knew. Allingham was glad she did not mention Mr.
Halvard's name, for he had feared that she might think
it necessary to do so. All he wanted was to make
her feel that she was perfectly safe with him, that there
was no need to pretend to be bright and gay, no need
to pretend anything ; and it seemed to him that the
only way he could do this was by talking to her quietly
and simply of the things they had always talked about
together. It was curious how his own tardy love
ir had dropped into the background. It was there
still, but he could cover it over with the deep tenderness
that her unhappiness awakened in him.

44 You find it cold ? Shall we walk a little ? " he
asked, as Sylvie shivered slightly.

44 It is rather cold."

LUt«

£

270 THE GENTLE LOVER

They got up and walked down a narrow path between
tall laurel hedges that grew high above their heads.
The sun at that moment came out from behind a cloud,
and gilded the faded grass and trees, the weather-
stained marble of a broken urn.

44 If we go to Rome, Mr. Allingham," Sylvie said
suddenly, " won't you come too ? "

" You haven't decided to go, have you ? "

" Mamma and Aunt Sophy were talking about it.
I don't mind whether we go or stay ; but when we
do go, I want you to show Rome to me, as you did
Bruges and Florence — that is, unless you have some-
thing to keep you here."

" No ; there is no reason why I should be here any
more than anywhere else. That is the rather dubious
position I am always in."

" You promise, then ? "

" Yes, I promise."

" I suppose we ought to see Rome before we go back
I don't know when we shall be going back. We only
came away for six months."

" You should wait till the end of spring."

" Should we ? I am getting rather tired of it. If
we were going home for Christmas I think I should be
quite glad. I don't think the others would be really
sorry either — except Brian. But it would be hardly
fair to him, when he enjoys it so much, would it ?
It is different, of course, if you are very fond of pictures
and all that ; but I don't think I really can be. I like
looking at them now and then, but I know I don't

THE GENTLE LOVER 271

like them in the way you do, or in the way Brian does.
And then, there's nobody to take care of papa. If I
could only get mamma and Aunt Sophy to stay on
with Brian and allow me to go home by myself, I think
that would be best of all."

" But it would be a pity, when there are so many
places you haven't seen yet. Rome and Siena and
Venice and Assisi, and some of the little hill-towns —
they are all as different as possible from each other
and from Florence."

They turned into the main path, and at the same
moment saw two ladies coming in the opposite direc-
tion— Mrs. Leslie and Mrs. Gregg. Allingham raised
his hat and Syl vie bowed. The girl would have passed
on, but Mrs. Leslie, with a brilliant smile at Allingham,
stopped her, holding out her hand.

" How fortunate ! " she fluted. " I so wanted to
see you, Miss Grimshaw, to ask you to bring your
mother and Miss Kilronan to tea this afternoon.
And Brian ; you must bring Brian : he's such a dear
boy, and so amusing ! I'm afraid he's angry with me
about something. I met him yesterday, and he would
hardly speak to me. What do you think I can have
done, Mr. Allingham, to offend him ? I'm sure I
can't guess, but I'm so sorry, whatever it is. Do tell
him that I'm sorry, Miss Grimshaw, and make him
come."

" I'm afraid I mustn't promise for him," Syl vie
replied, quietly. " He usually has innumerable plans
that nobody else knows anything about. But I will

272 THE GENTLE LOVER

tell him. I am sorry if he was rude to you. I am sure
he did not intend to be."

" Oh, of course he wasn't rude," Mrs. Leslie cried in
dismay. " I never for a moment intended you to
think such a thing. I can't imagine him being rude.
But he is cross with me about something. I know he
is. He is charming when he is cross — it somehow suits
his red hair. You don't mind my calling his hair red,
do you ? You know I simply dote on red hair, and
I would dye my own if it weren't black. But I'm
afraid it wouldn't take the colour. Do you think it
would, Mr. Allingham.? It is you who are rude,
Mr. Allingham — dreadfully rude." Her dark, dewy
eyes reproached him, and her painted lips formed a
little pout. " Why do you never come to see me ?
You haven't been once. I think you are very unkind.
Mr. Halvard was the only one who came without
waiting for a special invitation. I so admire Mr.
Halvard — spiritually. There is something so bracing
about him, so austere. I'm sure you're not a bit
austere, Mr. Allingham ; but still I'll forgive you.
Only you mustn't be cynical and sarcastic. It's not
good for me: I enjoy it too much. Don't you think
Mr. Allingham is dreadfully cynical, Miss Grimshaw ? "

" I can't say I've noticed it," Sylvie replied. At the
mention of Mr. Hal vard's name she had blushed painfully.

" Well, perhaps he isn't to you. He must keep it
for me. I don't think that's fair of him. Mr. Halvard
told me he was cynical. Perhaps that has influenced
me. I'm so easily influenced, I may count on you all

THE GENTLE LOVER

273

then for this afternoon ? Do tell me that I may. And
I really think Brian ought to forgive me."

41 I'm sorry I can't accept for the others ; I have
no idea, you see, what engagements they may
have."

44 Well, you will come at all events, Miss Grimshaw
— Sylvie ? May I call you Sylvie ? " she appealed
charmingly. " I think we've known each other quite
long enough for that. I always say that a week abroad
is worth a year at home, so far as getting to know
people is concerned. And you'll come too, Mr. Ailing-
ham, I hope ? Now, don't say you can't, because I
won't listen to you if you do. I'm sure you're going
to invent some fib. I can see it in your eyes, and I
warn you beforehand that I shan't believe it."

44 Then I needn't perjure myself any further,"
Allingham laughed.

44 Well, if it's not to-day, remember it must be to-
morrow or the day after, for I don't know how long I
shall be staying in Florence."

With Mrs. Gregg in her wake she passed on gaily,
leaving a faint perfume of heliotrope behind her.

44 You've let yourself in for it, I'm afraid," said
Allingham, his dark eyes resting on the girl's face.
44 Why on earth didn't you say you couldn't go?
You know you don't want to."

44 1 can never think of excuses when she talks like
that. She makes me feel as if my head was going
round and round. But if she imagines I'm going to
call her by her Christian name ! "

s

274 THE GENTLE LOVER

Allingham laughed softly. " I shouldn't think there
was any necessity."

Sylvie was silent a moment.

" I promised, didn't I ? "

44 To call her by her Christian name ? "

44 No ; promised to go to see her this afternoon."

41 I'm afraid you did. But I should back out, if I
were you. Send her a wire. I'll send one for you."

44 I couldn't do that."

" Why not ? You're certain to chuck her sooner or
later, and you may just as well do it now."

" I never ' chuck ' anybody, Mr. Allingham."

" Well, you can't go on being bosom friends with Mrs.
Leslie, no matter what you say. You're too different."

"I was never bosom friends with her," said Sylvie,
indignantly.

He smiled. " It's what she wants, all the same."

44 1 don't think so. What she wants is to ask
questions."

44 Then why go this afternoon ? No acceptance of
an invitation is valid unless the inviter leaves a reason-
able loophole for escape."

14 You wouldn't act on that principle yourself, Mr.
Allingham."

4< I never act on any other ; and I'm going to act on
it in this case."

44 No ; you refused."

44 1 told a lie."

Sylvie gave a little laugh. Slowly they retraced
their steps, Graf pacing solemnly beside them. When

THE GENTLE LOVER

275

they reached their stone bench they again sat down.
And suddenly Allingham saw that the girl's eyes were
filled with tears, and that she was struggling against
them, biting her lips. He took her hand very gently
between his two hands, and they sat for a long time in
silence. He had an immense desire to comfort her, to
draw her to him, to stroke her hair, to let her cry
upon his shoulder ; but he could do none of these
things.

" I am sorry,5* she said, when she had regained self-
possession. " Mr. Allingham, I want to talk to you —
I want to tell you — I must tell somebody. ... It is
horrible — it is killing me. ..."

" I know — I know," he murmured. " There is no
need to tell me."

" No, you don't know ; it's not that," she wailed,
*' You think it is because he has gone away. . . . But
it isn't. I could bear that. It is something far
worse. . . . Mr. Allingham, it was I who drove him
away. ... I knew what he thought about — about
getting married — that it was wrong for clergymen.
And I asked him to give up his convictions. Do you
understand ? I asked him deliberately to do what he
thought to be wrong ! Oh, it was dreadful ! And
then — and then he left me." Her face was covered
with a burning blush of shame. " I shall never forget
it," she said. " Nobody else would have done such a
thing. It was odious ! unspeakable ! How he must
have despised me ! "
" Nonsense," said Allingham, his face darkening.

276 THE GENTLE LOVER

41 If he wants to despise anybody, he hasn't very far
to look for an object."

" But he did nothing. You are not just to him.
You don't understand," she moaned. " It was all my
fault. I had talked with him about his ideals ; I had
sympathized with him ; I had told him how beautiful
I thought them. . . . And then, to come down to that.
. . . Only I thought he cared ; I thought he cared
more than he did, and that I could help him, and that
the other idea of keeping always alone, of being differ-
ent from everybody else, was wrong. Why should he
not be happy the way other people are happy ? What
harm would it do to his ideal ? "

" Damn him ! " said Allingham, briefly.

" No — no," she cried. " If you are like that I am
sorry I told you anything. He was right. It was I
who was wrong. I was selfish. I made him miserable.
I pretended to him that I sympathized with everything.
And I thought I did. I didn't realize the truth until
he began to talk of going back to his work. Then I
knew. And I couldn't let him go. Something made
me — made me say things to him. But as soon as I
had spoken I saw that it was all wrong. Only it was too
late then. Oh, it was dreadful ! horrible ! If only I
could have died just at that moment. But now — now I
will never even see him again. I don't want to see him
again. I couldn't, after what has happened. He
knows he cannot trust me ; he knows what I am like.
And I might have gone on being friends with him ; we
might always have been friends, just the way you and

THE GENTLE LOVER 2T7

I are. That is what he wanted ; he had often spoken
about it."

Allingham sat silent. He still held her hand, and
from time to time he gently stroked it. He saw that
a passion of shame was torturing the girl as much as,
or more than, anything else ; but the words of con-
solation that rose to his lips were so feeble and banal
that he could not utter them. Yet he felt that the mere
fact of her having unburdened herself to somebody
had brought her relief. For a long time they sat there,
with the sun on the faded grass before them, and Graf
lying asleep at their feet.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE train for the past two hours had been rushing
through the darkness, and when he emerged from the
station at Pisa, it was into a dimly-lit city that seemed
almost uninhabited. He hailed a carriage, and drove
through roughly-cobbled, empty streets, of which he
could see little, for the Pisans evidently retired early to
rest, and seized the opportunity to economize in the
matter of light. Illumination, so far as Allingham
could judge, appeared to be left largely to the moon,
who was performing her task erratically, from among
floating wreaths of fantastic cloud. They crossed a
bridge and turned to the left along the river front.
The Arno once more, but, at this hour, black and un-
recognizable.

Allingham dismounted at the hotel, and from in-
quiry learned that Mr. Halvard was still there. He
had gone out after dinner, the man informed him, and
had not yet returned. Whether there were any other
visitors it would have been difficult to guess from the
empty and shrouded appearance of the place. Ailing-
ham was shown through a series of lofty, vast, un-
tenanted rooms, in one of which he allowed the porter

278

THE GENTLE LOVER 279

to leave his bag. The electric light formed a circle
of radiance about the tall, curtained bed, but the
rest of the huge apartment was lost in shadow, and
when he opened the doors, of which there were two, it
was to peer into other vast dim chambers exactly like
his own. The room was airy and intensely quiet ; and
through everything else Allingham had a vision of the
exquisitely consoling stillness of a night passed there.
The silence, deep and sleep-inviting, was already all
about him, like a great, still bath, and he felt a tempta-
tion to allow himself to sink down into it there and
then, so soothingly it caressed his nerves, jarred by
several wakeful nights, and by the jolting and rattle
of the railway journey. The huge pale bed had the
sleepy suggestion of some gigantic poppy ; the deep
wide soft pillows seemed drowsy with long, dreamless
slumbers. But it was only a little after nine o'clock,
and Allingham felt that he ought not to put off the
performance of his task. He sighed, washed the dust
of his journey from his face and hands, and went out to
stroll about the town for an hour, by which time Mr.
Halvard would surely have come back.

He turned to the right, almost at random, following
what appeared to be the one illuminated and animated
street. Quite suddenly it ended, and he came out into
the open space of the Piazza del Duomo, having left
the town behind him ; and in the moonlight he walked
over faded grass that was like a soft gray carpet be-
neath his feet. Before him was the Cathedral, on his
left the Baptistery, and on his right, white and ghostly

280 THE GENTLE LOVER

against a black velvet sky, rose the famous Leaning
Tower. Whatever it might prove to be in daylight, it
was now strangely impressive, with its many columns
mounting up, tier upon tier, into the darkness. The
thing, to Allingham's sense, had a beauty, a loneliness,
and in its intense quiet seemed to throw back the sounds
coming from the street as rocks throw back the sea.
Often enough he had seen it pictured, when it had struck
him as little more than a gigantic ivory toy ; but now,
in the night, it had an immense white stillness that
awed, that almost overwhelmed. It stood there, like
some symbol of eternity watching an ephemeral world,
proud, indifferent, gazing on into a shadowy future.

Allingham passed slowly over the faded, silver-gray
meadow, that was like some visionary garden of sleep.
In the soft drowsiness of the night air he could, or
imagined he could, taste the salt of the sea. And
behind the three marvellous buildings that brooded
over this dreamy solitude was the long white wall of the
Campo Santo. It was as he approached this enclosure
that he became conscious that he was not the only
noctambulist wandering here. His fellow-loiterer, who
was also alone, was leaning against the wall. There
was something familiar in the outline he presented,
which caused Allingham to draw closer in the hope of
finding him to be Mr. Halvard. Nor was he deceived.
It was indeed Mr. Halvard, and he returned Allingham's
greeting indifferently, without any surprise in his voice,
but with a coldness, an aloofness, that revealed how
little he relished this interruption of his lonely thoughts,

THE GENTLE LOVER 281

In the moonlight his face was strikingly pale, and his
whole appearance was listless and woebegone in the
extreme.

" I may as well tell you at once that I have followed
you here," Allingham said. " The fact that you made
no secret of where you were going to seemed to imply
that you were indifferent in the matter. Of course my
conduct may strike you as officious and impertinent,
but it is not primarily on your account that I am here."

" I don't know why you are here, I'm sure, and I
don't think I very much care. You can have nothing
to say to me that I haven't already said to myself a
thousand times."

" I am here because I have a very deep regard for
Miss Grimshaw," said Allingham, simply.

Mr. Halvard broke into a harsh and unexpected
laugh. Then he turned away impatiently. " There
is no use in discussing the matter. You yourself told
me that I could not stay on in Florence. What else
was there for me to do, then, but go ? "

" In that case I don't know why you stayed so long,"
returned Allingham, bitterly. " In other ways you
seem to have no difficulty in making up your
mind."

" I am ready to admit that I was weak — miserably,
criminally weak — if it gives you satisfaction to hear me
say so. You can call me by any name you like and I
won't resent it. You don't imagine that I am here
for my happiness. I suppose even you can see that !
The easiest thing for me to have done would have been

282 THE GENTLE LOVER

to stay ; the easiest thing for me to do now would be
to go back."

" Will you tell me one thing ? Did you stay on after
you knew Miss Grimshaw cared for you ? "

" How do you know she cares for me ? And what
business is it of yours, anyway ? " Mr. Halvard asked,
a light suddenly kindling in his eyes. But he recovered
himself immediately, and it was in a tone almost of
meekness that he said : "I came away as soon as I
saw that we were not strong enough to be content with
the only kind of love that it is right for me to give or
to receive. Before that I believed that we might have
enjoyed a higher type of friendship."

" Higher ? What can be higher than the natural
love of a man for his wife ? "

Mr Halvard made no reply, but in his attitude there
was expressed an infinite weariness of the whole
scene.

" And you would have been willing to allow her to
sacrifice herself to you and your precious ideals ? — to
waste her life in that sterile, inhuman atmosphere,
which nobody but a monster could breathe without
suffocation ? Do you think she was born for nothing
better than to grow old discussing fusty religiosities
with you when you were tired and felt the need of
admiration and encouragement ? My God, what a
mind you must have ! You must either be mad or the
most cold-blooded egotist that ever lived ! "

" I gave you permission to abuse me," said Mr.
Halvard, " and now that you have done so, perhaps

THE GENTLE LOVER 283

you will go away. It is impossible for you to under-
stand ; therefore I do not blame you. Only, if you
really think I am what you say, I do not see why you
should have troubled to come after me, or why you
want me to go back."

l4 You might have left before it was too late."

There was a moment's silence. Then Mr. Halvard
said : " I could not go back now, even if I knew that
to be true."

" Do you really care for her ? "

The young clergyman swung round, his face very
white. " I do not know by whose authority you are
here, but, judging from the unspeakably bad taste of
the idea, I should say it was your own. And now I
beg of you to leave me. I have always disliked you
intensely. Perhaps, if you understand that, you will
see how unbearable the present conversation must be
to me."

" Your liking or disliking me has nothing to do with
the matter," answered Allingham, in a low deep voice.
44 1 saw her to-day. She has altered, even in the few
hours since you left her. If you do not love her, then
I have nothing more to say : but if you do, and are
sacrificing your own happiness and hers to a fanatical
idea, then it is my duty to try to make you see your
wickedness."

44 You have no right to talk to me like this," said the
young man passionately. 44 Do you think Miss Grim"
shaw would welcome such ill-bred meddling ? I ask
no more of her than I ask of myself. I never made

284 THE GENTLE LOVER

love to her ; nothing of that sort ever passed between
us. I have nothing to reproach myself with, except
that I estimated human nature too highly. I did what
I could as soon as I realized the danger." He broke
off with a little groan, and all at once Allingham
became conscious of his extreme youth.

He was silent. He felt powerless. Never before
had he comprehended how utterly two natures might
fail to touch each other at any point, to understand
each other even dimly. There was an icy barrier which
he could not pass, and behind this barrier the soul of
the young man beside him lived and suffered, moved
by influences he could never feel, by an ideal he could
never grasp, by thoughts and convictions and sym-
pathies he could never comprehend. He could see
them ; he could gaze at them from every side ; but
he could never really know them. The soul that had
conceived them appeared to him strange and distorted,
but he had no standards by which to judge it. It was
alien to him as the soul of a water-sprite, or as that of
a being from another planet. He felt angry in a kind
of hopeless way, but he was no longer sure that Mr.
Halvard was heartless and selfish. He might be neither
of those things ; and certainly the strange beauty of
his face seemed incompatible with any sort of baseness.
Even the little mannerisms, the primness and sedate-
ness, that on their first acquaintance he had found
rather attractive, had dropped away. He saw that
they had been only superficial ; for there was nothing
to suggest them in the man beside him now. On the

THE GENTLE LOVER 285

contrary, what was suggested was a strength, a single-
ness of purpose, apparently invulnerable, and which,
under other conditions, Allingham could quite conceive
of himself as admiring. He did not even think that
Mr. Halvard had done what he had done for the sake
of his own soul. The motive lay much deeper than
that. At that moment, oddly enough, he found him-
self liking his enemy better than he had liked him for a
long time. He was suffering, and Allingham did not
want to see him suffer — he was too young.

" Do you mind if we say good-night here ? " Mr.
Halvard asked suddenly, with an unexpected mildness.
44 And I think it had better be good-bye."
" I have heard your last words then ? "
44 1 can't see that it will do any good to repeat them.'*
44 None, if a mere theory is more to you than human
happiness. It is only a pity that the other person
should have no such consolation to fall back upon. . . .
I had, perhaps, better warn you that I am staying to-
night in your hotel, but we need not see each other,
and to-morrow I shall go back to Florence."

Mr. Halvard did not answer. He seemed once more
to have become wrapped in his own thoughts, and after
a brief pause Allingham turned away, leaving him
all alone.

CHAPTER XXXIX

HE breakfasted in his own room, and, coming out into
the mild, still air, made his way again in the direction
of that corner of the city which he had visited on the
previous night. To be sure he found it less impressive
now, but it had, this morning, a tranquil, melancholy
beauty that perhaps made up for more awe-inspiring
qualities. The time-toned, marble buildings, mellowed
and coloured to the softest whites and grays, rose from
the green meadow in a kind of dreamlike loveliness.
Allingham did not enter either the Cathedral or the
Baptistery, nor did he climb the many stairs of the
Leaning Tower. He had not lingered in Pisa to make
a closer acquaintance with its monuments, but simply
to be quiet with his own thoughts. He had no need,
indeed, to hurry back to Florence, for he had no tidings
to bring. His journey had failed of its object as com-
pletely as ever journey had; yet on the whole he did
not regret having made it, and it would always be a
secret. Possibly it was the influence of the spirit of
this place, from which all the turmoil and passion of
life had retreated, like an ebbing tide, that had caused
his mood to fall into a sort of grave tranquillity that

286

THE GENTLE LOVER 287

might, had he examined it, have seemed hardly in
keeping with the failure of his mission. But was not
that just the last, subtle, intangible charm of Pisa—
that it would deal gently with all kinds of failure, that
it would round off the sharp, raw edges of life, and
soothe the sense of sorrow by sinking everything into
a dreamlike haze ? And as he wandered over the
sunny, meadow he had an odd feeling that he had been
here before, long ago, and that he would return at some
later date. It came to him, this strange intuition, as
if by a reversal of memory, enabling him to look into
the future, as he looked into the past — with the same
sense of familiarity, of recognition.

The brown houses, with their green shutters and red
roofs, the empty, mouldering, sun-baked palaces, the
empty squares and vacant streets, had all contributed
to this effect, were all, somehow, as well known to him
as if they had been built within his soul. The damp,
languid, placid air floating up from the sea ; the yellow
waters of the Arno ; the outline of the hills that shel-
tered the city, no less than its high walls, from bois-
terous winds — all melted into an atmosphere of
peace.

He entered the Campo Santo and loitered within its
shadowy cloisters that were built in delicate stone
arches about an open, grassy court. The court just
now was a well of sunlight, and Allingham had it to
himself. He did not look at the famous frescoes — he
was in no mood for frescoes — but he abandoned himself
simply to the mellow tranquillity of the place, its

288 THE GENTLE LOVER

somnolent air, its charm of a vague and dreamy past.
Time seemed to have dealt gently and lovingly with
this little watching, listening city ; each stain, each
fleck of mossy green or gold, seemed to have been laid
there like a caress. And if Pisa had the air of watching
and listening, it was for very attenuated ghosts, for
the faintest of faint echoes, that the attentive, the
sympathetic visitor could only become aware of by
suffering himself to acquiesce in its languor, by allowing
his thoughts and feelings to tone themselves to the
minor, melancholy key in which all was cast. The
attentive visitor would choose such a warm, sunny
corner as Allingham had chosen, and bask there like
a lizard.

" The sun is set ; the swallows are asleep ;

The bats are flitting fast in the gray air ;
The slow, soft toads out of damp corners creep "

So, he remembered, Shelley had written of it, but it
was not thus that it appeared to him. He sat down
on the sun-warmed steps, and gazed at two slender
cypresses in black silhouette against the pale marble,
and his spirit in a moment was at Florence, among those
who were, after all, the one true interest of his life.
For he knew well enough that the life he might live
at Pisa would not be really life, but only a ghostly
haunting of the threshold of the world, and charming
only if he could leave it at will. In itself it would be
cold as death, its poetry would quickly fade — at the
best it would be but the drowsiness that preceded the
final sleep. ...

THE GENTLE LOVER 289

And he sank into a dream. Without his being con-
scious of it, all that had intervened between his arrival
at Florence and his interview with Mr. Halvard last
night dropped away. The whole episode of Mr.
Halvard disappeared and had no part in the visions
that glided softly before him in the morning air, and
in the silence — that intense Italian silence — never
broken by the song of a bird. His thoughts hovered
over the future, brushing it with soft wings that
gleamed and glimmered in the sunshine. His love was
there with him, happy and perfected, as love is in
dreamland, where all is innocent and beautiful and
unspoiled, where no harm can be done or suffered,
and the pain of life is forgotten.

CHAPTER XL

SYLVIE sat with an open book before her on her knee.
The glow of the fire lent a beautiful but deceptive
colour to her white face, and she seemed to be wrapped
in thoughts that were suggested by the softly dancing
flames. In reality she was only wondering if Ailing-
ham would come that evening ; for he had not come
last night, nor this morning, nor this afternoon. . . .

" I wonder if Bennet Allingham will be round to-
night," Miss Kilronan said suddenly, breaking the
silence.

Brian looked up from the books that were spread
out on the table before him. " I'd better go and hunt
him up, perhaps ? "

" You've got your work to do, dear," his mother
murmured from behind the pages of her magazine.
Her pretty, faded face, perfectly expressionless, was
lifted for a moment before she returned to her story.
She read everything indifferently, so long as it was
something that could not possibly be taken seriously,
but she remembered nothing of these eternal, sugared
tales of idiotic lovers. Her method at home of getting
a book was to ask Mr. Bell, her favourite librarian, for

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THE GENTLE LOVER 291

something ' ' really nice. ' ' And Mr. Bell was always able
to find something " nice," and also to remember if
Mrs. Grimshaw had read it before, since she had an
unfathomable but pronounced prejudice against re-
reading.

44 Work ! " Brian exclaimed. " What is work com-
pared with Aunt Sophy's desire for a game of bridge ?
Send me to fetch Mr. Allingham, Aunt Sophy."

" I'm sure, for all he's likely to do ! " Miss Kilronan
declared. " You may dismiss this farce of Brian's
studies from your mind, Lucy. Until you get some-
one who has more control over him than anybody
seems to have at present, he will do nothing."

44 What's the use of my killing myself studying when
I'm going to be planked down in a rotten office in
another month or two, with a fortnight's holidays in
the year ? "

44 You should want to study for its own sake," said
Mrs. Grimshaw, not very convincingly. 44 Because you
are in business, that is no reason why you should allow
yourself to lapse into a state of ignorance."

" You have too high an ideal of your son, mamma.
Chaps in business don't study, unless they happen to
be freaks. When I come home in the evenings I shall
have my dinner and then go out. It won't be to classes
at the Technical Institute either. It will be to knock
about the streets, theatres, music-halls, billiard-rooms,
smoking Woodbines, talking to girls in tobacconists'
shops, missing the last tram, and coming home
late."

292 THE GENTLE LOVER

His mother gazed at him with mingled astonishment
and alarm.

" Run and get Mr. Allingham," said Miss Kilronan.

" I wonder what made him say all that ? " Mrs.
Grimshaw murmured, after Brian had disappeared.

" I don't know," Sophy replied. " Very likely most
of it is true," she added tartly. " But, you needn't let
it worry you. Brian isn't a fool. He is the only
result of your marriage I have ever envied you."

" You do say nice things, Sophy, at times ! "

" I'm not mealy-mouthed, if that's what you mean ;
and, please God, I never will be."

Mrs. Grimshaw retired to the shelter of her maga-
zine, feeling that everybody had been very " queer "
for the past day or two.

Sylvie, lost in her own meditations, had paid no
attention to what was going on. She was not even
aware that her brother had been sent to fetch Mr. Alling-
ham, though she was waiting for him and hoping he
would come. Somehow, she felt safe with Mr. Ailing-
ham, felt the relief that springs from having nothing to
conceal.

And her thoughts relapsed into that dreary little
circle wherein, ever since Mr. Halvard's departure,
they had revolved. " Yes ; he had done right to go ! "
she repeated to herself, with a pitiful lack of conviction,
as she sank deeper and deeper into the unhappy
reverie against which, all day long, she had been
struggling. But there were so many things to remind
her of him — and she was so tired. . . .

THE GENTLE LOVER 293

She remembered the day, the hour even, when she
had first known how much she loved him. It had all
been vague and unrealized before. But on that late
afternoon, coming down from Fiesole in the drizzling
rain, it had suddenly seemed to sweep over her in a
great wave that had borne her out and out, over
fathomless depths, far beyond any possibility of return.
She remembered his face, a little pale ; and in his dark
blue eyes something, some restless unspoken thing,
that faltered and pleaded, trembled and hesitated. . . .
And all around, the darkness of approaching night
seeming to draw them closer together. . . .

CHAPTER XLI

SHE had not heard her brother go out ; she did not hear
him come back ; but on his entrance the others looked
up and saw that he was alone.

" He's not there," the boy said quietly, and pro-
ceeded to gather up his books.

" Where are you going, dear ? " Mrs. Grimshaw
asked him, while Miss Kilronan, who had pulled out
the bridge table in anticipation, looked disappointed
and even annoyed.

" I think I'll work in my room," Brian answered.

He went out with his books under his arm, but when
he reached his own room he simply tumbled them in a
heap on the dressing-table, and, without turning on the
light, lay down on his back on the bed. He had lain
there perfectly still for perhaps half-an-hour, when he
heard the sound of light footsteps in the passage outside,
followed by the noise of a door opening and closing
Instantly he sat up, but for another minute or two made
no further movement. Then he slid slowly to his feet
and went to Sylvie's door.

She was standing in the middle of the room when he
entered, as if she had come upstairs for something and had

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THE GENTLE LOVER 295

forgotten what she had come for, or been fascinated by
the darkness that seemed from outside to press and
surge against the window with a sinister suggestion of
life. Absorbed by whatever it was that held her, the girl
did not look round at the sound of the opened door.

" Sylvie ! " he said.

At that she turned, and a faint flush came into her
cheeks.

" Are you going to bed ? " he asked.

" No ; it is quite early, isn't it ? I just came upstairs
for some note-paper."

Brian had walked over to the window, and he now
pulled down the blind. With his back to her he said
softly, " Mr. Allingham will not be coming to-night."

" Not coming ! How do you know ? He is some-
times later than this."

" Yes — but I went to the hotel for him. Aunt Sophy
wanted him to play bridge. He was not there."

There was something in the gentleness of his voice
that touched Sylvie extraordinarily, and for a moment,
as she realised the delicacy and loyalty of his affection
for her, even the figure of Mr. Halvard, and all his
beautiful words and thoughts, faded. Her eyes rested
on her brother. " Did they tell you where he was ? "
she asked.

" No."

Then, in the silence that followed, suddenly she
blushed crimson, for it seemed to her that Brian knew
and that he had told her, that he had cried aloud, " He
has gone to Pisa, to Pisa." Yet nothing had been

296 THE GENTLE LOVER

spoken, he had not even looked at her, his eyes were
fixed on the carpet at his feet as he sat there on the side
of the bed.

Her blush passed slowly, but the boy had seen it,
and he had coloured too. If only he had not been a
boy, if only he had been her sister, then she could have
flung her arms round his neck and cried ; and the relief,
the relief that that would have been ! But instead, they
could only sit there side by side, while the room seemed
brimmed up with all that was unspoken. A touch,
and the whole thing would have come crashing down
upon them ; but that touch was not given ; and hours
and hours seemed to pass, and yet Brian, when she
looked up, was still there, the light shining on his red
hair, as he sat gazing down at the carpet, his hands, on
either side of him, on the pale counterpane.

" Are you going downstairs again ? " he asked, " or
shall we read something ? Let us read something
aloud."

" What shall we read ? " She glanced at the table
where two or three books lay ; an odd assortment ; the
Pater Mr. Halvard had given to her, Mason's At the
Villa Rose, the October number of The Royal
Magazine.

" I have a book of Mr. Allingham's here. I don't
know whether you will like it — it is poetry."

He took it from his jacket pocket, where he had been
carrying it all day. " Mr. Allingham lent it to me
when we were going to Siena. Shall I read some of it ? "

Sylvie nodded, and he began :

THE GENTLE LOVER 297

* ' Sailorman, I'll give to you
My bright silver penny,
If out to sea you'll sail me
And my dear sister Jenny.'

* Get in, young sir, I'll sail ye

And your dear sister Jenny,
But pay she shall her golden locks

Instead of your penny.'

They sail away, they sail away,

O fierce the winds blew !
The foam flew in clouds,

And dark the night grew !

And all the wild sea-water

Climbed steep into the boat ;
Back to the shore again

Sail they will not.

Drowned is the sailorman,

Drowned is sweet Jenny,
And drowned in the deep sea

A bright silver penny.' "

He read on and on, one poem after another, and
Sylvie, sitting with folded hands, appeared to listen.
She knew he was trying to amuse her, and she did her
best to follow the words, but her attention faltered,
and both their meaning and their music escaped her.
She had never cared for poetry ; in the form of litera-
ture, at all events, it had no existence for her. But her
brother was too young to understand that. To him
beauty was a thing we can always share — above all,
with those we love ; since who should comprehend it
if not they ?

CHAPTER XLII

ALLINGHAM had been away on little sketching tours
several times, and for this reason he had hoped that his
expedition to Pisa would not excite remark ; neverthe-
less, as he went next morning to call at Casa
Grimshaw, a number of difficulties occurred to him
which he had not thought of before, and which he
did not see very clearly how he was to avoid.
Moreover, if the truth by any chance should come
out, he was afraid they would think he had taken
too much upon himself, that his plan, however well-
intentioned, had been unfortunate, and merely humili-
ating to the girl on whose behalf it had been
devised.

As he reached the corner of the street, he saw Miss
Kilronan and Brian coming out of the house, and he
hastily retreated into a picture-shop which happened
to be close at hand. He sought refuge in the remotest
corner of this establishment, and looked at ugly, ill-
done copies of pictures by Raphael and Andrea del
Sarto with a distracted eye till he thought the coast
must be clear. By that time he had been obliged to
purchase one of these works, he was not quite sure

298

THE GENTLE LOVER 299

which. He paid for it, gave his address, and came out
into the street again.

He hoped Sophy had not seen him, but he wasn't a
bit sure that she hadn't — she had very sharp eyes.
He would not have avoided her in this ridiculous
fashion, he told himself, had he not been taken un-
awares. But Sophy had a way of springing questions
upon you, which, if you were the artless possessor of a
secret, was positively unnerving, and immediately
suggested either lies or flight. Allingham, at sight of
her, had suddenly discovered that his lies were not
ready. He did not know why, exactly, but the entire
episode of his pursuit of Mr. Halvard had begun to
press upon his conscience with an alarming heaviness,
and he had even begun to ponder the advisability of
making a clean breast to Sophy of the whole thing.

It struck him that his early visit would appear
rather aimless. It had no particular aim, other than an
intense desire to see Sylvie. For he had nothing to
tell her, nothing except a rather weak and silly story
of a sketching tour, which at present, he perceived,
could hardly fail to appear singularly unconvincing.
He found her alone, seated close to a newly-lit fire, that
crackled and flamed in the huge grate. She looked up
on his entrance, and he was shocked at the white face
she turned to him, so listless and lifeless it had become,
though as soon as she recognised him a faint flush
stained its pallor. Her wide gray eyes met his, and
he wondered if she had guessed where he had been,
for he thought he read a timid question in them, a

800 THE GENTLE LOVER

question that she could not put into words, and that
he feared to answer. But she smiled, and her voice
had all its old grave sweetness as she wished him good-
morning. Now was the time for his sketching-tour
story ; yet he only sat down in a chair on the opposite
side of the hearth and said nothing. . . .

Mrs. Grimshaw bustled in, with a fussy, " Aren't you
going to get ready, Sylvie ? " She caught sight of
Allingham, who had risen. " Oh, good-morning, Mr.
Allingham ; I didn't see you at first. I'm so blind ! "
She shook hands with him in an absent-minded fashion,
and began to move about the room, peering here and
there, pulling out drawers, turning over magazines.

44 What are you looking for, mamma ? " Sylvie
asked, at length.

44 My book ; I can't find it anywhere."

44 What book is it ? "

44 1 forget the name. It's one I got yesterday. I
began it last night, and I know I left it here when I went
to bed." She lifted and replaced again the two or three
volumes that lay upon the table and which she had
already examined several times. Sylvie was bent down
a little over the fire, her hands spread out to the blaze.

44 1 wonder what has become of it ? " Mrs. Grim-
shaw repeated, querulously. 44 Somebody must have
taken it."

44 Did you ask Aunt Sophy ? "

44 Aunt Sophy's out. Besides, I know it is here."
She opened the piano, and even looked behind the
curtains,

THE GENTLE LOVER 301

" Do you want it now ? "

" I want to know where it is," Mrs. Grimshaw
replied, petulantly. " Are you cold ? " she went on,
turning to where Sylvie sat huddled close to the fire.
" It seems to me to be quite mild to-day. Aren't you
going out ? "

" IVe been waiting for you," the girl replied.

" I'm sure it wasn't worth while lighting the fire.
You needn't bother about me if Mr. Allingham wants
you to go anywhere. I can easily go alone. . . . Oh,
I forgot about the dressmaker ! . . . You might get
up a minute, dear, when you see me looking everywhere.
That is the chair I was sitting in last night."

Sylvie got up, but the book was not in the chair.
The girl thought for a moment. " Perhaps Aunt
Sophy took it back to the library. She and Brian
were going there."

" It's too provoking of her if she did ! She
might have known I couldn't possibly have finished
it."

" But if she took it at all, it must have been by
mistake ; and, at any rate, you can easily get it out
again."

" How can I get it out again when I don't know it's
name, or who it was by ? "

" The man will have a note of it," Allingham inter-
posed. The extraordinary triviality and lack of
imagination displayed by poor Mrs. Grimshaw were
beginning to get upon his nerves, and his voice betrayed
his impatience,

302 THE GENTLE LOVER

But Mrs. Grimshaw was only half satisfied, and
decided to have another search.

Allingham stood twirling his hat. " Well, I must be
off," he jerked, seeing no possibility of getting the girl
by herself.

" You're not going, are you, Mr. Allingham ? " Mrs.
Grimshaw cried at once. " Why not come shopping
with us ? We have an appointment with the dress-
maker, but it won't keep us very long. I'm sure you
must think us dreadfully inhospitable ! "

He smiled. No anger could survive the invariable
kindliness of Mrs. Grimshaw's manner. " Not at all,"
he said. " I only came in for a few minutes. I knew
you would be going out."

" I must get ready," said Sylvie. " Good-bye for
the present, Mr. Allingham."

" Good-bye." He followed her with his eyes as she
went from the room.

" Did Sylvie tell you that we had decided about
Rome ? "

" No ; we were not speaking of it."

" Sophy and Brian have gone this morning to see
about sub-letting our rooms. Sylvie says you're coming
too. I do hope you will."

He stood uttering commonplaces for a little longer,
and then made his escape.

CHAPTER XLII1

BY the early afternoon post he received a letter from
Sylvie, the first letter she had ever written to him.
It was short, but it gave him great pleasure. It ran
as follows :

" DEAR MR. ALLINGHAM, — You must have thought
me very strange to have received you as I did this morn-
ing, though I know you will forgive me. I want you
to come to-night, because we have quite decided about
Rome, and will be going as soon as ever we can. I want
you to come too, as I told you that day in the Boboli
Gardens. Didn't you promise ? Excuse this scribble,
but mamma is getting impatient, and is still talking
about her book.

" Yours affectionately,

" SYLVIE GRIMSHAW."

Yes ; he would go to-night. And in the meantime
he would take a long walk.

303

CHAPTER XLIV

WHEN Allingham returned to the hotel his boots were
white with dust, and he felt agreeably tired. . . . His
feeling of restlessness had gradually worn off during the
long tramp from Fiesole, and at dinner he held an
animated and cheerful conversation about Rome with
the head-waiter, who turned out to be a native of that
city.

The night into which he stepped was fine and starry,
and he did not hurry, so that it was almost nine o'clock
when he found himself mounting the stone staircase at
Casa Grimshaw. He had not reached the second flight,
however, when he saw Brain running down to meet him.
The boy stopped him.

" Don't go in yet," he said excitedly. " I was waiting
for you. I would have gone to meet you only I thought
I might miss you. ... I wanted to tell you. Mr.
Halvard is here ; he is up there now."

Allingham stood aghast, his hand clutching the black
iron baluster, a darkness surging up before him. In
one sickening flash of disappointment he understood
that he had not really wanted Mr. Halvard to come
back, and with its crumbling into dust he saw, too, how

304

THE GENTLE LOVER 305

all that day and all the previous day he had suffered
himself to build up a new hope on the flimsy fabric of
the young clergyman's renunciation. He understood
the feeling of peace that had come upon him in the
Campo Santo at Pisa on the morning following the
failure of his mission ; he understood the restlessness
that had led him to walk so many miles that afternoon.
Face to face with the naked truth at last, he felt a sense
of desolation so complete as to be almost stupefying.
For a moment he faltered, for a moment his impulse
was to turn, then and there, and go back the way he had
come ; but in the end he rose to the situation. He
could hear Brian's unspoken trouble in his voice, and
the boy's presence somehow braced him as he mounted
the remaining steps, his hand on his shoulder.

He was struck, though it may only have been a
creation of his fancy, with the air of brilliancy the room
presented as he crossed the threshold. That same
brilliance seemed to be reflected in all the faces that
were turned to him as he advanced. Sylvie ran to meet
him. " I'm so glad you came," she said, a beautiful
blush sweeping across her face. She was utterly
transformed as she held him there before he could pass
on to the others ; her whole welcome of him seemed to
beg him to be happy in her happiness. It was difficult
to believe that it was the same Sylvie he had seen
crouching over the fire that morning. Her beauty
had recovered its old radiance, her happiness had a kind
of innocent, childish frankness, unashamed as the sun-
light. And he knew she was looking for a reflection of

U

806 THE GENTLE LOVER

it in his face, and he could only hope that his effort
to deceive her was successful. It came to him that
perhaps she had understood his errand, and was thank-
ing him in the one way that it would ever be possible
for them to allude to it. But she would never under-
stand anything more than that. He had always known
it, but he knew it now more than ever, as he pressed
her hand softly and returned her smile, with his dark,
sad eyes fixed on hers. All this occupied but a few
seconds ; then he was shaking hands with the others,
with Mrs. Grimshaw, who was fussily elated, and with
Sophy, who, too, seemed bent on offering slices of fatted
calf to the returned prodigal. Only in the handsome
face of the prodigal himself, in his clear, ice-blue eyes,
as he turned to Allingham and took his hand, did the
latter read a note of hostility. It amazed him ; it even
caused him to falter a little. And in the background
Brian hovered uneasily.

Every time the boy's glance fell upon Mr. Halvard,
Allingham saw a look of angry dislike come into his
face. He understood it and regretted it ; but even
had they brought the best will in the world to bear upon
the matter, he knew that it was hardly likely that Mr.
Halvard and his prospective brother-in-law would ever
get on well together. Allingham was glad that at that
moment, in the full flush of the young clergyman's
triumph, he himself should be so frankly relegated to
the position naturally allotted to unimportant persons,
for he felt unable to produce intelligible conversation.
He was too bewildered by this return. He saw in it

THE GENTLE LOVER 307

nothing of weakness. As much as ever he recognized
Mr. Halyard's strength. Against that particular kind
of strength the generous, fiery indignation of the red
boy, the brother, would be as nothing. And suddenly
Allingham felt that he detested it. With a strange
bitterness he thought how he had been the means of
bringing about what he now dreaded more than he had
at first dreaded the girl's suffering. Better that she
should suffer than that she should be sacrificed to this
spirit of cold and arid fanaticism. He had an over-
whelming vision of his own sentimental stupidity, a
sickening conviction that he had made a mistake. He
prayed that he might be making one now, but as he sat
there he was tortured by the idea that he was assisting
at the first act of a tragedy he had himself been the
means of setting in motion. Over its development he
could have no control. It had already passed out of his
hands. He would never even see the development,
for he could not imagine himself a guest in Mr. Halvard's
house.

Suddenly he became aware that they were discuss-
ing the visit to Rome, discussing the possibility of
Mr. Halvard's being allowed an extension of leave.
Mr. Halvard himself thought he might manage another
week or ten days.

" Mr. Allingham is coming too," Sylvie cried, but
he no longer detected in her voice, despite its eager
friendliness, any urgent need for his presence.

" I think not," he heard himself saying. " There
are one or two business matters which have cropped up

808 THE GENTLE LOVER

most annoyingly, and which may even take me back to
America. It's a wretched nuisance, but what can one
do ? ... I really ought to say good-bye now," he
added, "for I haven't an idea when I may sail, or
how busy I may be during the next few days."

But Sylvie would not hear of this.

" Well, if it's not good-bye," he said, smiling, " it
must at least be good-night."

" But you've only just come ! "

" I know I have. Appearances are invariably against
me. Still, I thought I'd better look in to tell you

about Rome. Of course if I change my mind one

never knows."

" You must change it, Mr. Allingham — if you possibly

can."

" If I possibly can," he promised.

In the general excitement no very serious attempt
was made to detain him, but Sylvie came with him to
the door.

" I hope you will always be happy," Allingham said,
as he lingered with her on the threshold, out of sight
and hearing of the others. " I may say that, may I
not ? "

" Why, of course ! It is very good of you. Those
are my first congratulations." She smiled up at
him.

He held her hand between both his for a moment
as he answered, " At least you will get none that are
more sincere." And suddenly he wondered if he might
kiss her once, now, for the first time and the last, before

THE GENTLE LOVER 309

he went. He hesitated ; then he turned from her and
passed down the dimly-lit staircase.

When he reached the street he heard somebody
running behind him, and he knew that it was Brian.

" I want to walk part of the way with you," the boy
said hurriedly.

He slipped his arm through Allingham's, and they
walked in silence. When they had passed the Ponte
Vecchio and were almost at the hotel, Brian said, " You
will write, won't you ? "

44 Yes."

They stood without speaking for a few moments by
the wall of the river. 44 Good-bye," Brian then said,
holding out his hand.

44 Good-bye."

CHAPTER XLV

As he came in a man rose from where he had been
sitting in shadow in the hall, and advanced to meet
him. It was Flamel. The electric light fell directly
on his large white face, and Allingham made a move-
ment of impatience, even of anger. Why should he
be dogged by this odious person, who appeared now
to have been haunting him ever since that first evening
when he had gone to his house ? He felt a sudden
rage against Mr. Halvard, who had, as it were, thrust
the Medium upon him, while taking from him every-
body else. He knew that FlamePs little black glitter-
ing eyes had already detected the mental agitation in
which he was plunged, and under their impudent
scrutiny he made a stride to the elevator, but the
Medium followed him.

44 What do you want ? " Allingham asked, in a low
voice.

Flamel began to apologise, but Allingham cut him
short. " Say what you have to say at once. I can
only give you two minutes."

He took out his watch, and at the same time he felt
the eyes of the hall porter and one of the waiters fixed

310

THE GENTLE LOVER 311

upon him with scarcely veiled curiosity. As Flamel
still kept silent he rang the elevator bell.

"This is my address," the Medium murmured,
holding out a card, which Allingham refused with a
gesture. " Perhaps some other time I shall find you
disengaged. ... I have always hoped you would
become interested. ... If you do me the honour to
call upon me — there are other things that might "

Allingham stepped into the lift without looking
round, and signed to the boy to start it.

He entered his room and switched on the light.
There was a parcel lying on his table, and mechanically
he opened it. It was the copy he had bought that
morning of Andrea del Sarto's salmon-pink Saint John.
He flung it from him, and sat down in a chair, without
removing either his hat or the light overcoat he wore.

He sat there for a long time without changing his
position, though it was not one which to an observer
would have suggested comfort. As the hours passed,
the lights in the rooms all round him were extinguished,
till presently his alone burned, and a passer on the
road below would have wondered who was sitting up
so late. All sounds within the hotel had ceased long
ago, and Allingham himself, for all movement he made,
might have been asleep. But he was not asleep. In
the uneasy, noisy night, broken every now and again
by the voices of strayed revellers, or the rattle of a
carriage, or the hoot of a motor, he went back over
all the pleasant days he had spent since that morning
in Bruges when he had found Brian drawing the gate-

312 THE GENTLE LOVER

way and singing as he drew. And then Sylvie had
come in, and they had gone, all three together, through
the old grass-grown streets, and the bright joyous
spring of youth had seemed to come with all its
generous warmth into his life. The room was full of
memories that drifted before him as he sat there in
the crude white light. He listened to Sylvie's voice ;
he gazed into her eyes : treasured words, treasured
hours, returned to him, and he opened his heart wide
to them ; he pressed them to him, he clasped them
and clung to them, for they were all he would ever
possess. And even as he grasped at them they were
already fading, slipping from him, eluding him ; and a
feeling of intense loneliness shut them out, as a cloud
shuts out the sun.

His foot touched something : it was the pink Saint
John, all glistening with varnish. He made a move-
ment as if to get up, but his purpose wavered, and
he sank back once more into his chair. His life seemed
to have drifted away from him without his having
attained anything. It was not so much that he had
missed happiness, as that he had missed everything
else as well. What a waste of time it had all been !
— of precious years, frittered away, hour after hour,
week after week, with absolutely nothing to show at
the end of them, with nothing to look forward to but
a lonely old age passed among strangers who would
not care if he cut his throat so long as he did not do it
on the premises, and had paid his bill first. What
folly had been in that idea of coming to Europe, as

THE GENTLE LOVER 813

if by changing his sky he could change his soul !
He recalled the visions and ambitions of his boyhood —
the bright, foolish dreaming that had ended in this.
" No more — no more," he whispered, and an immense
sadness descended upon him. He opened wide the
shutters and looked into the darkness. " I shall never
dream again," he thought, as he leaned over the window-
sill, while the night air blew in his face. " Nothing
will ever happen again that matters. . . . There will
never be anything more — never anything more."

CHAPTER XLVI

" The sun is set ; the swallows are asleep ;

The bats are flitting fast in the gray air;
The slow, soft toads out of damp corners creep "

IT was true, true on this March afternoon. The air was
gray ; the sun, if it had not set, was at least invisible ;
the swallows, if they were not asleep, were dead ; a
cold mist had settled over everything, blurring the
outlines of buildings and leaving their stones dripping
with moisture, Allingham, crossing the bridge, walked
quickly on his way back to his rooms, which he had
left, only an hour ago, in the forlorn hope that it might
be going to clear up. He now knew that it wasn't,
and he felt depressed and infinitely bored.

" Within the surface of the fleeting river

The wrinkled image of the city lay,
Immovably unquiet, and for ever

It trembles, but it never fades away "

That also was true. He put up his umbrella, for the
mist was turning to rain, and as he did so he came
face to face with another waterproofed and um-
brellaed pedestrian, who, like himself, seemed hurrying
homeward. At the corner of the market-place, how-
ever, her confidence apparently forsook her, for she

314

THE GENTLE LOVER 315

stood still, looking up and down the river, in evident
uncertainty as to which direction she ought to take.
Allingham advanced to her assistance, but at that
moment she lifted her umbrella, and their eyes
met.

" Bennet ! " she cried gladly. " How perfectly ex-
traordinary ! I never even knew you were here ! I
thought you had gone back to America, and I shouldn't
have been here myself if Brian hadn't worried me into
it. Why did you not answer my letter ? "

He smiled and coloured like a boy. In his surprise,
and as he welcomed her, the weary expression passed
from his dark eyes. " I intended to write, but I kept
putting it off, in my usual way ; just as I put off
America itself, for that matter. . . . However, I
really do sail next week."

He spoke a little shyly, but Sophy was so genuinely
pleased to see him that his feeling of uneasiness
vanished.

" And you have been in Pisa all these months ? "
she asked, while she contemplated his slightly stooping
figure with clear, kind eyes.

" Yes. ... It is not as a rule so dismal as it looks
to-day."

" Extraordinary ! "

He laughed. " Come in, Sophy, and let me give
you some tea. I know you want tea, and my rooms
are just here. They are over this shop." His voice,
his way of speaking, seemed to have grown quieter than
ever.

316 THE GENTLE LOVER

" Do you know, I went to your hotel the very next
morning, and found that you had gone and had left
no address. It wasn't kind of you."

" I sent them my address afterwards," he said
penitently.

Inside, a fire was burning, and a kettle puffed
clouds of steam. Sophy took off her damp water-
proof, and for a moment or two stood by the window-
seat, looking out at the misty Arno.

Then she turned round to where Allingham was
busying himself with the tea-pot. She took it from
him and made the tea herself.

" How long have you been here ? " he asked, follow-
ing her movements with his eyes.

" We only arrived last night, on our way home-
Brian and I, that is. The others left a month ago.
We go on to Turin to-morrow morning."

" And where is Brian now ? "

" I expect he is waiting for me at the hotel. He
went out after lunch to the picture gallery. I didn't
go, because I am absolutely sick of pictures — you
may as well know it first as last, Bennet. I have been
buying novels to read in the train. The book-shops
are quite good."

" Yes. It is a University town. I suppose that
makes a difference. . . . Haven't you been to see
any of the sights yet, Sophy ? Or are you sick of
sights, too ? "

" I am, though I still try to do my duty. We
climbed the Leaning Tower this morning, and looked

THE GENTLE LOVER 317

round the other places. Our hotel is quite close. If
we had only known you were here ! Brian will be
delighted. Didn't he write to you ? I told him to."

" He did. I also wrote to him — twice, I think."

" He never said a word to us."

" He ought to have told you. I'm sure I must have
sent messages."

She sat silent.

" Won't you take off your hat, Sophy, and make
yourself comfortable ? "

" I'm quite comfortable, thanks. Besides, I'm
going back as soon as I've finished my tea, and you're
coming with me."

He said nothing, but bent forward to stir the fire.

For a little, and while they drank their tea, they
spoke of the others, and he listened to an account
of their adventures in Rome. Then Sophy put down
her cup. " Bennet," she asked abruptly, " why are
you going away ? 2'

" Going away ? " he echoed.

" Going back to America. Have you anybody to
go to ? "

He shook his head.

" Why don't you stay, then ? "

"Stay here? In Pisa ?"

" Not necessarily in Pisa ; but stay with us. Come
back with us to-morrow and stay with the Grimshaws.
They'd be delighted to have you, and you can go and
see your own people from there ; and you can come to
see me. I will write to them to-night.

a-""

318 THE GENTLE LOVER

He did not reply for a moment. Then he said
softly : " But it would only be putting it off, wouldn't
it ? I shall have to go back some time."

" But why ? Is there really any reason ? "

Again he sat silent before he answered : " No, not
really."

" Why not stay with us altogether, then ? " Her
voice had a gentleness that he had very rarely heard
in it.

He looked up. " But " he hesitated. Then he

said simply : " Stay with you, do you mean, Sophy ? "

" Yes, with me."

Allingham's eyes turned to the window, where the
light was fading. " I can bring — I can give so little,"
he faltered, at last.

" You are lonely. When I first saw you, you looked
dreadfully lonely and — and tired. . . . It has all been
so stupid ! " she continued impatiently. " I can't
bear to think of your going on like this permanently.
. . . Can't we be friends ? "

" We have always been friends."

Her voice softened. " Yes — from the very begin-
ning. . . . We have that at least."

There was a silence.

" But you know — you know everything, Sophy ? "

" Yes, I think I know everything."

44 And you would still be willing to take me ? "

She paused. Her eyes rested, with a beautiful and
unwonted tenderness, on his dark, thin face. C4 1
think we might build up something together," she

THE GENTLE LOVER

319

said slowly, " that would be much nearer to happiness
than anything either of us is likely to find alone."

" I think so, too," he answered gravely.

She held out her hand, and, as he took it, it was as if
they had sealed their compact. For a few minutes
they sat without speaking. Then Sophy rose from her
chair. " Come," she said, more lightly. " Let us go
and find Brian. He will be wondering what has
happened to me."

THE END

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