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SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS,

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"THE DANVERS JEWELS."

"Es isteine alte Geschichte."

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,

^ublisfjcrs in (Drtiinarg to %vc ;^ajcst2 tfje ^\xun.
1889.

{All rights reserved.)

4

2^3

SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER I.

The last week of September found Charles
back at Stoke Moreton to receive the
''friends" of whom Mrs. Alwynn spoke.
People whose partridges he had helped to
kill were now to be gathered from the east
and from the west to help to kill his. From
the north also pfuests were cominof, were

leaving their mountains to But the

remainder of the line Is invidious. The
Hope Actons had written to offer a visit at
Stoke Moreton, on the strength of an old
promise to Charles, a promise so old that
he had forgotten it, until reminded, that next

VOL. II. IC)

2 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

time they were passing they would take his
house on their way. They had offered their
visit exactly at the same time for which he
had just Invited the Alwynns and Ruth.
Charles felt that they were not quite the
people whom he would have arranged to
meet each other, but as Fate had so decreed
it, he acquiesced calmly enough.

But when Lady Mary also wrote tenderly
from ScarborouQ^h, to ask if she could be of
any use in helping to entertain his guests,
he felt it imperative to draw the line, and
wrote a grateful effusion to his aunt, saying
that he could not think of asking her to
leave a place where he felt sure she was
deriving spiritual and temporal benefit. In
order to assist at so unprofitable a festivity
as a shooting party. He mentioned casually
that Lady Grace Lawrence, Miss Deyncourt,
and Miss Wyndham were to be of the party,
which details he Imagined might have an
interest for her amid her graver reflections.

The subject of Ruth's coming certainly

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS 3

had a prominent place in his own graver
reflections. For the last fortnight, as he
went from house to house, he had been
wondering how he could meet her again, and
when Mr. Alwynn's letter concerning the
charters was forwarded to him, a sudden
inspiration made him then and there send
the invitation which had arrived at Slumber-
leigh Rectory a few days before. He
groaned in spirit as he wrote It, at the
thought of r^Irs. Ahvynn disporting herself,
dressed in the brightest colours, among his
other guests ; and It w-as w^th a feeling of
thankfulness that he found Ruth and Mr.
Alwynn were coming without her.

He had felt very little interest so far in
the party, w^hich, with the exception of the
Hope Actons, had been long arranged, but
now he found himself looking forward to it
with actual impatience, and he returned home
a day before the time, instead of an hour or
two before his guests were expected, as w^as
his w^ont.

4 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The Wyndhams and Hope Actons, with
Lady Grace in tow, were the first to appear
upon the scene. Mr, Alwynn and Ruth
arrived a few hours later, amid a dropping
fire of young men and gun cases, who kept
on turning up at intervals during the after-
noon, and, according to the mysterious noc-
turnal habits of their kind, till late Into the
night.

If ever a man appears to advantage it is
on his native hearth, and as Charles stood
on his in the long hall, where It was the
habit of the house to assemble before dinner,
Ruth found that her attempts at conversation
were rather thrown away upon Lady Grace,
with whom she had been renewing an old
acquaintance, and whose interest for the time
being entirely centred In the carved coats of
arms and heraldic designs with which the
towering white stone chimney-piece was
covered.

Lady Grace was one of those pretty,
delicate creatures who remind one of a very

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 5

elaborate rosebud. There was an appear-
ance of ultra refinement about her, a look of
that refinement which Is in itself a weakness,
a poverty of blood, so to speak, the opposite
and more pleasing, but equally unwholesome
extreme of coarseness. She looked very
pretty as, having left Ruth, she stood by
Charles, passing her little pink hand over
the lowest carvings, dim and worn with the
heat of many generations of fires, and listened
with rapt attention to his answers to her
questions.

" And the hall is so beautiful," she said,
looking round with childlike curiosity at the
walls covered with weapons, and with a long
array of armour ; and at the massive pillars
of carved white stone which rose up out of
the polished floor to meet the raftered ceiling.
" It is so — so uncommon."

Whatever Charles's other failings may
have been, he was an admirable host. The
weather was fine. What can be finer than
September when she is in a good humour ?

6 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The two first days of Ruth's visit were un-
alloyed enjoyment. It seemed like a sudden
return to the old life with Lady Deyncourt,
when the round of country visits regularly
succeeded the season in London. Of Mr.
Alwynn she saw little or nothing. He was
burled In the newly discovered charters. Of
Charles she saw a good deal, more than at
the time she was quite aware of, for he
seemed to see a great deal of everybody,
from Lady Grace to the shy man of the
party, who at Stoke Moreton first conceived
the Idea that he was an acquisition to society.
But whether Charles made the opportunities
or not which came so ready to his hand, still
he found time, amid the pressure of his
shooting arrangements and his duties as host,
to talk to Ruth.

One day there was cub hunting In the
grey of the early morning, to which she and
Miss Wyndham went with Charles and
others of the party who could bear to get
up betimes. Losing sight of the others after

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 7

a time, Ruth and Charles rode back alone
together when the sun was high, walking
their tired horses along the blackberrled
lanes, and down the long green rides cut in
the yellowing bracken of the park.

** And so you are going to winter in
Rome ? " said Charles, who had the previous
day, contrary to his wont, accepted an invita-
tion to Slumberleigh Hall for the middle of
October. " I sometimes go to Rome for a
few weeks when the shooting is over. And
are you glad or sorry at the prospect of
leaving your Cranford ? "

'' Very sorry."

'' Why ? "

" I have seen an entirely new phase of life
at Slumberleigh."

" I think I can guess what you mean," said
Charles gravely. '' One does not often meet
any one like Mr. Alwynn."

" No. I was thinking of him. Until I
came to Slumberleigh the lines had not
fallen to me in very clerical places, so my

5 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

experience is limited ; but he seems to me
to be the only clergyman I have known who
does not force on one a form of religion that
has been dead and burled for years."

*' The clergy have much to answer for on
that head," said Charles with bitterness. " I
sometimes like and respect them as Indi-
viduals, but I do not love them as a class.
One ought to make allowance for the fact
that they are tied and bound by the chain
of their Thirty-nine Articles ; that at three-
and-twenty they shut the doors deliberately
on any new and possibly unorthodox idea ;
and it Is consequently unreasonable to expect
from them any genuine freedom or originality
of thought. I can forgive them their assump-
tion of superiority, their inability to meet
honest scepticism with anything like fairness,
their continual bickering among themselves ;
but I cannot forgive them the harm they are
doing to religion, the discredit they are
bringing upon It by their bigoted views and
obsolete ideas. They busy themselves doing

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 9

good — that is the worst of it ; they mean
well, but they do not see that in the mean-
while their Church is being left unto them
desolate ; though perhaps, after all, the
Church, having come to be what it is, that
is the best thing that can happen."

*' You forget," said Ruth, '' that you are
regarding the Church from the standpoint ot
the cultivated and intellectual class, for whom
the Church has ceased to represent religion.
But there are lots of people neither cultivated
nor intellectual — women even of our own class
are not so as a rule — to whom the Church,
with its ritual and dogma, is a real help and
comfort. If, as you say, it does not suit the
more highly educated, I think you have no
right to demand that it sJwiild suit what is,
after all, a very small minority. It would be
most unfair if it did."

Charles did not answer. He had been
looking at her, and thinking how few women
could have disagreed with him as quietly and
resolutely as this young girl riding at his

lO SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

side, carefully avoiding chance rabbit holes
as she spoke.

''There is, and there always will be, a
certain number of people, not only among
the clergy," she went on, ''who, as somebody
says, ' put the church clock back,' and are
unable to see that they cannot alter the time
of day for all that ; only they can and do
prevent many well-intentioned people from
trusting to It any longer. But there are
others here and there whom a dogmatic form
of religion has been quite unable to spoil,
whose more simple turn of mind draws out
of the very system that appears to you so
lifeless and effete, a real faith, a personal
possession which no one can take from them."

Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and
Charles saw that she was thinking of Mr.
Alwynn.

" He has got it," he said slowly, " this
something which we all want, and for the
greater part never find. He has got it. To
see and recognize it early is a great thing,"

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. II

he continued earnestly. " To disbelieve in
it in early life, and cavil at all the caricatures
and imitations, and only come to find out its
reality comparatively later on is a great mis-
fortune— a great misfortune."

She felt that he was speaking of himself,
and they rode on in silence, each grave with
a sense of mutual understandinQf and com-
panionshlp. They forded the stream, and
trotted up the little village street, the cot-
tagers gazing admiringly after them till they
disappeared within the great arched gateway.
And Charles looked at his old house as they
paced up the wide drive, and wondered
whether It were indeed possible that the
lonely years he had spent In It had come to
an end at last — at last.

Ruth had noticed that he lost no oppor-
tunity of talking to her, and when she heard
him conversing with Lady Grace, or plunging
into fashionable slang with Miss Wyndbam,
found herself admiring the facility with which
he adapted himself to different people.

12 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The following afternoon, as. she was writing
in the library, she was amused to see that
he found it incumbent on him to write too,
even going so far as to produce a letter from
Molly, whose correspondence he said he in-
variably answered by return.

" You seem very fond of giving Molly
pleasure," said Ruth.

'* I am glad to see. Miss Deyncourt, that
you are beginning to estimate me at my true
worth."

" You have it in your power just now to
give a great pleasure," said Ruth earnestly,
laying down the pen which she had taken up.

-How?"

*' It seems so absurd when it is put Into
words, but — by asking Mrs. Alwynn some
time to stay here. She has always longed
to see Stoke Moreton, because — well, because
Mrs. Thursby has ; and real, positive, actual
tears were shed that she could not come
when you asked us."

" Is it possible ? " said Charles. '' It is the

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 3

first time that any letter of mine has caused
emotion of that description."

" Ah ! you don't know how important the
smallest things appear if one lives in a little
corner of the world where nothing ever
happens. If Mrs. Alwynn had been able to
come, her visit would have been an event
which she would have remembered for years.
I assure you, I myself, from having lived at
Slumberleigh eight months, became quite ex-
cited at the prospect of so much dissipation."

And Ruth leaned back in her chair with
a little laugh.

Charles looked narrowly at her, and his
face fell.

'' I am glad you told me," he said, after a
moment's pause. '' People generally mention
these things about ten years afterwards, when
there is probably no possibility of doing any-
thing. Thank you."

Ruth was disconcerted by the sudden
gravity of his tone, and almost regretted the
impulse that had made her speak. She

14 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

forgot it, however, In the tableaux vivants
which they were preparing for the evening,
In which she and Charles illustrated the
syllable mm to enthusiastic applause. Ruth
represented the nun, engaged in conversation,
over the lowest imaginable convent wall,
with Charles, In all the glory of his cocked
hat and deputy-lieutenant's uniform, who,
while he held the nun's hand In one of his,
pointed persuasively with the other towards
an elaborately caparisoned war-horse,
trembling beneath the joint weight of a
yeomanry saddle, and a side saddle attached
behind It, which considerably overlapped the
charger's impromptu fur boa tail.
' After the tableaux there was dancing In
acting costume, at which the two men, who
acted the war-horse between them, were the
only persons to protest. Lady Grace being
beautiful as an improvised Aa^ne Boleyn, and
the shy man resplendent in a fancy dress of
Charles's.

When the third morning came, Ruth gave

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 5

a genuine sigh at the thought that it was the
last day. Lady Grace, who was also leaving
the following morning, may be presumed to
have echoed it with far more sorrow. The
Wyndham.s were going that day, and dis-
appeared down the drive, waving handker-
chiefs, and carriage rugs, and hats on sticks,
out of the carriage windows, as is the custom
of really amusing people when taking leave.

In the afternoon, Lady Grace and Charles
went off for a ride alone together, to see
some ruin in which Lady Grace had mani-
fested a sudden interest, the third horse,
which had been brought round for another of
the men, being sent back to the stables, his
destined rider having decided, at the eleventh
hour, to join the rest of the party in a little
desultory rabbit shooting In the park, which
he proceeded to do with much chuckling
over his extraordinary penetration and
tact.

The elder ladles went out driving, looking,
as seen from an upper window, like four

l6 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

poached eggs on a dish ; and, the coast
being clear, Ruth, who had no love of
driving, escaped with her paint box to the
garden, where she was making a sketch of
Stoke More ton.

Some houses, like people, have dignity.
Stoke Moreton, with ivy creeping up its
mellow sandstone, and peeping into its long
lines of mullioned windows, stood solemn
and stately amid its level gardens ; the low
sun bringing out every line of carved stone
frieze and quaint architrave, firing all the
western windows, and touching the tall heads
of the hollyhocks and sunflowers, that stood
in ordered regiments within their high walls
of clipped box. And Ruth dabbed and
looked, and dabbed again, until she suddenly
found that if she put another stroke she
would spoil all, and also that her hands were
stiff with cold. After a few admiring glances
at her work, she set off on a desultory journey
round the gardens to get warm, and finally,
seeing an oak door in the garden wall open,

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1/

wandered through it into the churchyard.
The church door was open, too, and Ruth,
after reading some of the epitaphs on the
tombstones, went in.

It was a common little church enough, with
a large mortuary chapel, where all the
Danvers family reposed ; ancient Danvers
lying in armour with their mailed hands
joined, besides their wives ; more modern
Danvers kneeling in bas-relief in coloured
plaster and execrable taste in recesses. The
last generations were there also ; some of
them anticipating the resurrection and
feathered wings, but for the most part still
asleep. Charles's mother was there, lying in
white marble among her husband's people,
with the child upon her arm which she had
taken away with her.

And in the middle of the chapel was the
last Sir Charles Danvers, whom his brother,
Sir George, the father of the present owner,
had succeeded. The evening sun shone full
on the kneeling soldier figure, leaning on its

VOL. II. 20

1 8 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

sword, and on the grave, clear cut face, which
had a look of Charles. The long, beautifully
modelled hands, clasped over the battered
steel sword hilt, were like Charles's too.
Ruth read the inscription on the low marble
pedestal, relating how he had fallen in the
taking of the Redan, and then looked again.
And gradually a great feeling of pity rose in
her heart for the family which had lived here
for so many generations, and which seemed
now so likely to die out. Providence does
not seem to care much for old families, or to
value lone descent. Rather It seems to
favour the new race, the Browns, and the
Joneses, and the Robinsons, who yesterday
were not, and who to-day elbow the old
county families from the place which has
known them from time Immemorial.

'' I suppose Molly will some day marry a
Smith," said Ruth to herself, " and then it
will be all over. I don't think I will come
and see her here when she is married."

With which reflection she returned to the

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 9

house, and. after disturbing ]\Ir. Alwynn, who
Avas deep in a catalogue of the Danvers'
manuscripts, in which it was his firm con-
viction that he should find some mention of
the charters, she went into the library, and
wondered which of the several thousands of
books would interest her till the others
came in.

The library was a large room, the walls of
which were lined with books from the fioor
to the ceiling. In order to place the higher
shelves within reach, a light balcony of
polished oak ran round the four walls, about
equi-distant from the floor and the ceiling.
Ruth went up the tiny corkscrew staircase in
the wall, which led to the balcony, and
settling herself cornfortably in the low, wide
window seat, took out one volume after
another of those that came within her reach.
These shelves by the window where she was
sitting had somehow a different look to the
rest. Old books and new, white vellum and
cardboard, were herded together without any

20 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

apparent order, and with no respect of
bindings. Here a splendid morocco " Novum
Organum " was pushed In beside a cheap and
much worn edition of Marcus Aurellus ; there
Emerson and Plato and Shakespeare jostled
each other on the same shelf, while just below
** Don Quixote " was pressed Into the un-
congenial society of Carlyle on one side, and
Confucius on the other. As she pulled out
one book after another, she noticed that the
greater part of them had Charles's name In
them. Ruth's curiosity was at once aroused.
No doubt this was the little corner in his.
great house In which he chose to read, and
these were his favourite books which he had
arraneed so close to his hand. If we can
judge our fellow-creatures at all, which is
doubtful, it Is by the books they read, and
by those which, having read, they read again.
She looked at the various volumes In the
window-seat beside her with new Interest,,
and opened the first one she took up. It
was a collection of translations from the

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 21

Persian poets ; gentlemen of the name ot
Jemshid, Sadi, and Hafiz, of whom she had
never heard. As she turned over the pages,
she heard the ringing of horses' hoofs, and
looking out from her point of observation,
saw Charles and Lady Grace cantering up
the short wide approach, and clattering out of
sight again behind the great stone archway.
She turned back to her book, and was read-
ing an ode here and there, wondering to see
how the same thoughts that work within us
to-day had lived with man so many hundred
years ago, when her eye was caught by some
writing on the margin of a page as she turned
it over. A single sentence on the page was
strongly underlined.

'' Trtte self-knowledge is knoiv ledge of God!'
Jemshid was a wise man, Ruth thought, if
he had found out that ; and then she read in
Charles's clear handwriting in the margin,

" With this compare 'Look zmthin. Within
is the foimtain of good, and it will ever bubble
Zip if thott zoilt ever dig! — Maj^acs Atirelius!'

2 2 SIR CIIARLKS DANVERS.

At this moment Charles came into the
library, and looked up to where she was
sitting, half hidden from below by the thick-
ness of the wall.

'• What ! studying ? " he called gaily. " I
saw you sitting in the window as I rode up.
I might have known that if you were lost
sight of for half an hour you would be found
improving yourself in some exasperating
way." And he ran up the little stairs and
came round the balcony towards her. '' My
own special books, I see. Eve, as usual, sur-
reptitiously craving for a knowledge of good
and evil. What have you got hold of ? "

The remainder of the window seat was
full of books, so, to obtain a better view of
what she was reading, he knelt down by
her, and looked at the open book on her
knee.

Ruth did not attempt to close it. She felt
guilty she hardly knew of what. After a
moment's pause she said —

'* I plead guilty. I was curious. I saw

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 23

these were your own particular shelves ; but
I never can resist looking- at the books people
read."

'' Will you be pleased to remember, in
future, that In contemplating my character,
Miss Deyncourt — a subject not unworthy of
your attention — you are on private property.
You are requested to keep on the gravel
paths, and to look at the grounds I am dis-
posed to show you. If, as is very possible,
admiration seizes you, you are at liberty to
express it. But there must be no going
round to the back premises, no prying into
corners, no trespassing where I have written
up ' No road! "

Ruth smiled, and there was a gleam in her
eyes which Charles well knew heralded a
retort, when suddenly through the half-open
door a silken rustle came, and Lady Hope
Acton slowly entered the room, as if about
to pass through it on her way to the hall.

Now, kneeling is by no means an attitude
to be despised. In church, or in the moment

24 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

of presentation to majesty, it is appropriate,
even essential ; but it is dependent, like most
things, upon circumstances and environment.
No attitude, for instance, could be more
suitable and natural to any one wishing to
read the page on which a sitting fellow-
creature was eno^aored. Charles had found
it so. But as Lady Hope Acton sailed into
the room he felt that, however conducive to
study, it was not the attitude in which he
would at that moment have chosen to be
found. Ruth felt the same. It had seemed
so natural a moment before, so hideously
suggestive now.

Perhaps Lady Hope Acton would pass
on through the other door, so widely, so
invitingly open. Neither stirred, in the hope
that she might do so. But in the centre of
the room she stopped, and sighed ; the slow
cracklinof sio^h of a stout woman in a too well-
fitting silk gown.

Charles suddenly felt as if his muddy boots
and cords were trying to catch her eye, as if

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 25

every book on the shelves were calling to her
to look up.

For a second Ruth and Charles gazed
down upon the top of Lady Hope Acton's
head, the bald place on which showed dimly
through her semi-transparent cap. She
moved slightly, as If to go ; but no, another
step was drawing near. In another moment
Lady Grace came in through the opposite
door in her riding habit.

Ruth felt that it was now or never for a
warning cough ; but, as she glanced at Charles
kneeling beside her, she could not give it.
Surely they would pass out in another second.
The thought of the two pairs of eyes which
would be raised, and the expression in them,
was intolerable.

" Grace," said Lady Hope Acton with
dreadful distinctness, advancing to meet her
daughter, " has he spoken ? "

" No,'' said Lady Grace, with a little sob,
''and" — with a sudden burst of tears — ''oh,
mamma, I don't think he ever will."

26 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

Oh, to have coughed, to have sneezed, to
have choked a moment eadler ! Anything"
would have been better than this.

" Run upstairs this moment, then, and
change your habit and bathe your eyes," said
Lady Hope Acton sharply. '' You need not
come down till dinner time. I will say you
are tired."

And then, to the overwhelming relief of
those two miserable spectators, the mother
and daughter left the room.

But to the momentary sensation of relief
in Ruth's mind a rush of pity succeeded for
the childlike grief and tears ; and with and
behind it, like one hurrying wave overtopping"
and bearing down its predecessor, came a
burninor indio^nation ao-ainst the cause of that
picturesque emotion.

It is indeed a lamentable peculiarity of our
fallen nature that the moment of relief from
the smart of anxiety is seldom marked by so
complete a mental calmness and moderation
as could be wished.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 27

Ruth rose slowly, with the book still in her
hand, and Charles got off his knees as best
he could, and stood with one hand on the
railing of the balcony, as if to steady himself.
His usually pale face was crimson.

Ruth closed the book in silence, and with
a dreadful precision put it back in its accus-
tomed place. Then she turned and faced
him, with the western light full upon her stern,
face, and another light of contempt and in-
dignation burning in her direct eyes.

*' Poor little girl," she said, in a low distinct
voice. '' What a triumph to have succeeded
in making her unhappy ! She is very young,
and she did not understand the rules of the
game. Poor, foolish little girl ! "

If he had been red before, he was pale
enough now. He drew himself up, and met
her direct gaze without flinching. He did
not speak, and she left him standing in the
window, and went slowly along the balcony
and down the little staircase into the room
below.

28 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

As she was about to leave the room he
moved forward suddenly, and said —

" Miss Deyncourt."

Involuntarily she stopped short In obedience
to the stern authority of the tone.

" You are unjust."

She did not answer, and left the room.

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 29

CHAPTER 11.

*' Uncle John," said Ruth next morning,
taking Mr. Alwynn aside after breakfast,
*' we are leaving by the early train, are we
not ? "

" No, my love, it is quite impossible. I
have several papers to identify and re-
arrange."

*' We have stayed a day longer than we
intended as it is. Most of the others go
early. Do let us go too."

*' It is most natural, I am sure, my dear,
that you should wish to get home," said Mr.
Alwynn, looking with sympathetic concern
at his niece ; '' and why your aunt has not
forwarded your letters I can't imagine. But
still, if we return by the midday train, Ruth,

30 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

you will have plenty of time to answer any
letters that — ahem ! seem to require immediate
attention before the post goes ; and I don't
see my way to being ready earlier."

Ruth had not even been thinking of Dare
and his letters ; but she saw that by the early
train she was not destined to depart, and
watched the other guests take leave with an
envious sigh. She was anxious to be gone.
The last evening, after the episode in the
library, had been interminably long. Already
the morning, though breakfast was hardly
over, seemed to have dragged Itself out to
days in length. A sense of constraint
between two people who understand and
amuse each other Is very galling. Ruth had
felt It so. All the previous evening Charles had
hardly spoken to her, and had talked mainly
to Lady Hope Acton, who was somewhat
depressed, and another elder lady. A good
night and a flat candlestick can be presented
in a very distant manner, and as Ruth re-
ceived hers from Charles that eveninsf, and

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 3 I

met the grave, steady glance that was
directed at her, she perceived that he had
not forofiven her for what she had said.

She felt angry again at the idea that he
should venture to treat her with a coldness
which seemed to imply that she had been in
the wroncf. The worst of it was that she
felt she was to blame ; that she had no right
whatever to criticise Charles and his actions.
What concern were they of hers ? How
much more suitable, how much more eloquent
a dienihed silence would have been. She
could not imagine now, as she thought it
over, why she had been so unreasonably
annoyed at the moment as to say what she
had done. Yet the reason was not far to
seek, if she had only known where to lay her
hand on it. She was uneasy, Impatient ; she
longed to ofet out of the house, x^nd It was
still early ; only eleven. Eleven till twelve.
Twelve till one. One till half-past. Two
whole hours and a half to be o-ot throuo^h
before the Stoke Moreton omnibus w^ould

32 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

bear her away. She looked round for a
refuge during that weary age, and found it
nearer than many poor souls do in time of
need, namely, at her elbow, in the shape, the
welcome shape of the shy man, almost the
only remnant of the large party whose dis-
persion she had just been watching. When-
ever Ruth thought of that shy man afterwards,
which was not often, it was with a sincere
hope that he had forgotten the forwardness
of her behaviour on that particular morning.
She wished to see the picture-gallery. She
would of all things like a walk afterwards.
No, she had not been as far as the beech
avenue ; but she w^ould like to go. Should
they look at the pictures first — now — no
time like the present ? How pleased he was 1
How proud ! He felt that his shyness had
gone for ever, that Miss Deyncourt would
no doubt like to hear a few anecdotes of his
college life, that a quiet man, who does not
make himself cheap to start with, often wins
in the end, that Miss Deyncourt had unusual

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 33

appreciation, not only for pictures, but for
reserved and intricate characters that yet
(here he ventured on a little joke, and
laughed at it himself) had their lighter side.
And in the long picture-gallery Ruth and he
studied the old Masters, as they had seldom
been studied before, with an intense and
ienorant interest on the one hand, and an
entire absence of mind on the other.

Charles, who had done a good deal of
pacing up and down his room the night
before, and had arrived at certain conclu-
sions, passed through the gallery once, but
did not stop. He looked grave and pre-
occupied, and hardly answered a question of
Mr. Conway's about one of the pictures.

Half-past eleven at last. A tall inlaid
clock in the gallery mentioned the hour by
one sedate stroke ; the church clock told the
village the time of day a second later. They
had nearly finished the pictures. Never
mind. She could take half an hour to put
on her hat, and surely any beech avenue,

VOL. II. 21

34 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

even on a dull day like this, might serve to
while av^ay the remaining hour before
luncheon.

They had come to the last picture of the
Danvers' collection, and Ruth was dwelling
fondly on a very well-developed cow by
Cuyp, as if she could hardly tear herself
away from it, when she heard a step coming
up the staircase from the hall, and presently
Charles pushed open the carved folding
doors which shut off the gallery from the
rest of the house, and looked in. She was
conscious that he was standing in the door-
way, but new beauties in the cow, which had
hitherto escaped her, engaged her whole
attention at the moment, and no one can
attend to two things at once.

Charles did not come any further ; but
standing in the doorway, he called to the
shy man, who went to him, and the two
talked together for a few moments. Ruth
gazed upon the cow until it became so fixed
upon the retina of her eye that when she

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 35

tried to admire an old Florentine cabinet
near it, she still saw its portrait, and when in
desperation she turned away to look out of
the window, across the sky and sloping park
the shadow of the cow hung like a portent.

A moment later Mr. Conway came hurry-
ing back to her much perturbed, to say he
had quite forgotten till this moment, had not
in the least understood, in fact, etc., etc.
Danvers' grey cob, that he had thoughts of
buying, was waiting at the door for him to
try — in fact, had been waiting some time.
No idea upon his soul

Ruth cut his apology short before he had
done more than flounder well into it.

*'You must go and try it at once," she
said with decision ; and then she added, as
Charles drew near, " I have changed my
mind about going out. It looks as if it might
turn to rain. I shall get through some
arrears of letter-writing instead."

Mr. Conway stammered and repeated
himself, and finally rushed out of the gallery.

36 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Ruth expected that Charles would accompany
him, but he remained standing near the
window, apparently engaged like herself in
admiring the view.

" It struck me," he said slowly, with his
eyes half shut, " that Conway proved rather
a broken reed just now."

'' He did," said Ruth. She suddenly felt
that she could understand what it was in
Charles that exasperated Lady Mary so much.

He came a step nearer, and his manner
altered.

'' I sent him away," he said, looking gravely
at her, '' because I wished to speak to
you."

Ruth did not answer or turn her head,
though she felt he was watching her. Her
eyes absently followed two* young fallow deer
in the park, cantering away in a series of
hops on their long stiff legs.

*' I cannot speak to you here," said Charles^
after a pause.

Ruth turned round.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. '37

" Silence is ofolden sometimes. I think
quite enough has been said already."

"Not by me. You expressed yourself
with considerable frankness. I wish to follow
your example."

" You said I was unjust at the time.
Surely that was sufhcient."

'' So insufficient, that I am going to repeat
it. I tell you again that you are unjust in
not being willing to hear what I have to say.
I have seen a good deal of harm done by
misunderstandings, Miss Deyncourt. Pride
is generally at the bottom of them. We are
both suffering from a slight attack of that
malady now. But I value your good opinion
too much to hesitate if by any little sacrifice
of my own pride I can still retain it. If,
after your remarks yesterday, I can make the
effort (and it is an effort) to ask you to hear
something I wish to say, you, on your side,
ought not to refuse to listen. It is not a
question of liking ; you oiight not to refuse."

He spoke in an authoritative tone, which

2,S SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

gave weight to his words, and in spite of
herself she saw the truth of what he said.
She was one of those rare women who, being
convinced against their will, are 7io^ of the
same opinion still. It was ignominious to
have to give way ; but after a moment's
struQrorle with herself she surmounted her
dislike to being overruled, together with a
certain unreasoning tenacity of opinion natural
to her sex, and said quietly —

" What do you wish me to do ? "

Charles saw the momentary struggle, and
honoured her for a quality which women
seldom i^ive men occasion to honour them for. '

" Do you dislike walking ? "

'' No."

" Then, if you will come out of doors,
where there is less likelihood of interruption
than in the house, I will wait for you here."

She went silently down the picture-gallery,
half astonished to find herself doing his
bidding. She put on her walking things
mechanicallv, and came back in a few

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 39

minutes to find him standing where she had
left him. In silence they went downstairs,
and through the piazza with its flowering
orange trees, out into the gardens, where, on
the stone balustrade, the peacocks were
attitudinizing and conversing in the high key
in which they always proclaim a change of
weather and their innate vulgarity to the
world. Charles led the way towards a little
rushing brook which divided the gardens
from the park.

" I think you must have had a very low
opinion of me beforehand, to say what you
did yesterday," he remarked suddenly.

'' I was angry," said Ruth. " However
true what I said may have been, I had no
right to say it to — a comparative stranger.
That is why I repeat that it would be better
not to make matters worse by mentioning
the subject again. It is sure to annoy us
both. Let it rest."

"Not yet," said Charles dryly. ''As a
comparative stranger I want to know " —

40 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Stopping and facing her — " exactly what you
mean by saying that she, Lady Grace, did
not understand the rules of the game."

*' I cannot put it in other Avords," said
Ruth, her courage rising as she felt that a
battle was imminent.

" Perhaps I can for you. Perhaps you
meant to say that you believed I was in the
habit of amusing myself at other people's
expense; that — I see your difficulty in finding
the right words — -that it was my evil sport
and pastime to — shall we say — raise ex-
pectations which it was not my intention to
fulfil."

'' It is disagreeably put," said Ruth, red-
dening a little; "but possibly I did mean
something of that kind."

" And how have you arrived at such an
uncharitable opinion of a comparative
stranger ? " asked Charles, quietly enough,
but his light eyes flashing.

She did not answer.

'' You are not a child, to echo the opinion

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 4 1

of Others," he went on. '' You look as if you
judged for yourself. What have I done
since I met you first, three months ago, to
justify you in holding me in contempt ? "

" I did not say I held you in contempt."

'' You must do, though, if you think me
capable of such meanness."

Silence again.

" You have pushed me into saying more
than I meant," said Ruth at last ; '' at least
you have said I mean a great deal more
than I really do. To be honest, I think you
have thoughtlessly given a good deal of pain.
I dare say you did it unconsciously."

'' Thank you. You are very charitable,
but I cannot shield myself under the supposi-
tion that at eight and thirty I am a creature
of impulse, unconscious of the meaning of
my own actions."

" If that is the case," thought Ruth, '' your
behaviour to me has been inexcusable,
especially the last few days ; though, fortu-
nately for myself, I was not deceived by it."

42 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

" If you persist in keeping silence," said
Charles, after waiting for her to speak, " any
possibility of conversation is at an end."

'* I did not come out here for conversation,"
replied Ruth. " I came, not by my own
wish, to hear something you said you par-
ticularly desired to say. Do you not think
the simplest thing, under the circumstances,
would be — to say it ? "

He eave a short laueh, and looked at her
in sheer desperation. Did she know what
she was pushing him into ?

*' I had not forgotten," he said. '' It was
in my mind all the time ; but now you have
made it easy for me indeed by coming to my
assistance in this way. I will make a fresh
start."

He compressed his lips, and seemed to
pull himself together. Then he said, in a
very level voice — •

'' Kindly give me your whole attention,
Miss Deyncourt, so that I shall not be
obliged to repeat anything. The deer are

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 43

charming, I know ; but you have seen deer
before, and will no doubt again. I am sorry
that I am obliged to speak to you about
myself, but a little autobiography is unavoid-
able. Perhaps you know that about three
years ago I succeeded my father. From
being penniless, and head over ears in debt,
I became suddenly a rich man ; not by my
father's will, who entailed every acre of the
estates here and elsewhere on Ralph, and
left everything he could to him. I had
thought of telling you what my best friends
have never known, why I am not still
crippled by debt. I had thought of telling
you why at five and thirty I was still un-
married, for my debts were not the reason ;
but I will not trouble you with that now.
It Is enough to say that I found myself in a
position which, had I been a little younger,
with rather a different past, I should have
enjoyed more than I did. I was well
received in English society when, after a
lapse of several years, and a change of

44 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

fortune, I returned to it. If I had thought
I was well received for myself, I should have
been a fool. But I came back disillusioned.
I saw the machinery. When you reflect on
the vast and intricate machinery employed
by mothers with grown-up daughters, you
may imagine what I saw. In all honesty
and sincerity I wished to marry ; but in the
ease with which I saw I could do so lay my
chief difficulty. I did not want a new toy,
but a companion. I suppose I still clung to
one last illusion, that I might meet a woman
whom I could love, and who would love me,
and not my name or income. I could not
find her, but I still believed in her. I went
everywhere in the hope of meeting her, and
if others have ever been disappointed in
me, they have never known how disappointed
I have been in them. For three years I
looked for her everywhere ; but I could not
find her, and at last I gave her up. And
then — I met Lady Grace Lawrence, and liked
her. I had reason to believe she could be

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 45

disinterested. She came of good people — all
Lawrences are good ; she was simple and
unspoilt, and she seemed to like me. When
I look back I believe that I had decided to
ask her to marry me, and that it was only
by the merest chance that I left London
without speaking to her. What prevented
me I hardly know, unless it was a reluctance
at the last moment to cast the die. I came
down to Atherstone, harassed and anxious,
tired of everything and everybody, and
there," said Charles, with sudden passion,
turning and looking full at Ruth, " there I

The blood rushed to her face, and she
hastily interposed.

" I don't see any necessity to bring my
name in."

" Perhaps not," he returned, recovering
himself instantly ; *' unfortunately, I do."

'' You expect too much of my vanity,"
said Ruth, her voice trembling a little ; " but
in this instance I don't think you can turn it

46 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

to account. I beg you will leave me out of
the question."

" I am sorry I cannot oblige you," he said
grimly ; " but you can't be left out. I only
regret that you dislike being mentioned,
because that is a mere nothing to what is
coming."

She trusted that he did not perceive that
the reason she made no reply was because
she suddenly felt herself unable to articulate.
Her heart was beating wildly, as that gentle,
well-conducted organ had never beaten
before. What was coming ? Could this
stern determined man be the same apathetic,
sarcastic beinof whom she had hitherto
known ?

'' From that time," he continued, " I became
surer and surer, of what at first I hardly
dared to hope, what it seemed presumption
in me to hope, namely, that at last I had
found what I had looked for in vain so long.
I had to keep my engagement with the Hope
Actons in Scotland ; but I regretted it. I

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 47

Stayed as short a time as I could. I did not
ask them to come here. They offered them-
selves. I think, if I have been to blame, it
has not been in so heartless a manner as you
supposed ; and it appears to me Lady Hope
Acton should not have come. This is my
explanation. You can add the rest for your-
self. Have I said enough to soften your
harsh judgment of yesterday ? "

Ruth could not speak. The trees were
behaving in the most curious manner, were
whirling round, were swaying up and down.
The beeches close in front were dancine
quadrilles ; now ranged in two long rows,
now setting to partners, now hurrying back
to their places as she drew near.

" Sit down," said Charles's voice gently ;
'' you look tired."

The trunk of a fallen tree suddenly ap-
peared rising up to meet her out of a slight
mist, and she sat down on it more precipitately
than she could have wished. In a few
seconds the trees returned to their places,

48 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

and the mist, which appeared to be very
local, cleared away.

Charles was sitting on the trunk beside
her, looking at her intently. The anger had
gone out of his face, and had given place to
a look of deep anxiety and suspense.

*' I have not finished yet," he said, and his
voice had changed as much as his face,
*' There is still something more."

"No, no," said Ruth. ''At least, if there
is, don't say it."

*' I think I would rather say it. You wish
to save me pain, I see ; but I am quite pre-
pared for what you are going to say. I did
not intend to speak to you on the subject
for a long time to come, but yesterday's event
has forced my hand. There must be no
more misunderstandings between us. You
intend to refuse me, I can see. All the same,
I wish to tell you that I love you, and to ask
you to be my wife."

" I am afraid I cannot," said Ruth almost
inaudibly.

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 49

" No," said Charles, looking straight before
him, " I have asked you too soon. You are
quite right. I did not expect anything
different ; I only wished you to know. But
perhaps, some day '

" Don't ! " said Ruth, clasping her hands
tightly together. "You don't know what
you are saying. Nothing can make any
difference, because — I am engaged."

She dared not look at his face, but she saw
his hand clench suddenly.

For an age neither spoke.

Then he turned his head slowly and looked
at her. His face was grey even to the lips.
With a strange swift pang at the heart, she
saw how her few vv^ords had changed it.

" To whom ? " he said at last, hardly above
a whisper.

'' To Mr. Dare."

*' Not that man who has come to live at
Vandon ? "

'^ Yes."

Another lonof silence.

VOL. II. 22

50 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

" When was It ? "

" Ten days ago."

'' Ten clays ago," repeated Charles mechani-
cally, and his face worked. '' Ten days
aeo ! "

" It Is not given out yet," said Ruth, hesi-
tating, ''because Mr. Alwynn does not wish
it during Lord Polesworth's absence. I never
thought of any mistake being caused by not
mentioning it. I would not have come here
if I had had the least idea that "

"You cannot mean to say that you had
never seen that I — what I — felt for you ? "

'' Indeed I never thought of such a thing,
until two minutes before you said it. I am
very sorry I did not, but I imagined "

" Let me hear what you imagined."

** I noticed you talked to me a good deal ;
but I thought you did exactly the same to
Lady Grace, and others."

'' You could not imagine that I talked to
others — to any other woman in the world —
as I did to you."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 5 I

*' I supposed," said Ruth simply, ''that you
talked gaily to Lady Grace because it suited
her ; and more gravely to me, because I am
naturally grave. I thought at the time you
were rather clever in adapting yourself to
different people so easily ; and I was glad
that I understood your manner better than
some of the others."

'' Better ! " said Charles bitterly. '' Better,
when you thought that of me ! No, you
need not say anything. I was in fault, not
you. I don't know what right I had to
imagine you understood me — you seemed to
understand me — to fancy that we had any-
thing in common, that in time " He

broke into a low wretched lauofh. '' And all
the while you were engaged to another man.
Good God ! what a farce ; what a miserable
mistake from first to last ! "

Ruth said nothing. It was indeed a
miserable mistake.

He rose wearily to his feet.

'' I was foro-ettino-," he said ; '' it is time to

LIBRARY

mmRsny of \imois

52 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

go home." And they went back together In
silence, which was more bearable than speech
just then.

The peacocks were still pirouetting and
minueting on the stone balustrade as they
came back to the gardens. The gong began
to sound as they entered the piazza.

To Ruth it was a dreadful meal. She
tried to listen to Mr. Conway's account of
the grey cob, or to the placid conversation of
Mr. Alwynn about the beloved manuscripts.
Fortunately the morning papers were full of
a recent forgery in America, and a murder In
London, which furnished topics when these
were exhausted, and Charles used them to
the utmost.

At last the carriage came. Mr. Alwynn
and Mr. Conway simultaneously broke into
incoherent ejaculations respecting the pleasure
of their visit ; Ruth's hand met Charles's for
an embarrassed second ; and a moment later
they were whirling down the straight wide
approach, between the columns of fantasti-

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 53

cally clipped hollies, leaving Charles standing
in the doorway. He was still standing there
when the carriao^e rolled under the arched
gateway with its rampant stone lions. Ruth
glanced back once as they turned into the
road, at the stately old house, with its pointed
gables and forests of chimneys cutting the
grey sky line. She saw the owner turn
slowly and go up the steps, and looked hastily
away again.

" Poor Danvers!" said Mr. Alwynn cheer-
fully, also looking and putting Ruth's thoughts
into words. " He must be desperately lonely
in that house all by himself; but I suppose
he is not often there."

And Mr. Alwynn, whose mind had been
entirely relieved since Ruth's engagement
from the dark suspicion he had once har-
boured respecting Charles, proceeded to
dilate upon the merits of the charters, and
of the owner of the charters, until he began
to think Ruth had a headache ; and finding
it to be the case, talked no more till they

54 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

reached, at the end of their little journey, the
door of Slumberleigh Rectory.

" Is it very bad ?" he asked kindly, as he
helped her out of the carriage.

Ruth assented, fortunately with some faint
vestige of truth, for her hat hurt her fore-
head.

" Then run up straight to your own room,
and I will tell your aunt that you will come
and have a chat with her later on ; per-
haps after tea, when the post will be gone."
Mr. Alwynn spoke in the whisper of
stratagem.

Ruth was only too thankful to be allowed
to slip on tiptoe to her own room, but she
had not been there many minutes when a tap
came to the door.

" There, my dear," said Mr. Alwynn,
putting his head in, and holding some letters
towards her. " Your aunt ought to have
forwarded them. I brought them up at
once. And there is nearly an hour to post
time, and she won't expect you to come

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 55

down till then. I think the headache will be
better now, eh ? "

He nodded kindly at her, and closed the
door again. Ruth sat down mechanically,
and began to sort the packet he had put into
her hands. The first three letters were in
the same handwritinof, Dare's laree v^eue
handwriting that ran from one end of the
envelope to the other, and partly hid itself
under the stamp.

She looked at them, but did not open
them. A feeling of intense lassitude and
fatigue had succeeded to the unconscious
excitement of the m.orning. She could not
read them now. They must wait with the
others. Presently she could feel an interest
in them ; not now^

She leaned her head upon her hand, and a
rush of pity swept away every other feeling
as she recalled that last look at Stoke
Moreton, and how^ Charles had turned so
slowly and w^earily to go indoors. There
was an ache at her heart as she thought of

56 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

him, a sense of regret and loss. And he had
loved her all the time !

"If I had only known ? " she said to
herself, pressing her hands against her fore-
head. '' But how could I tell — how could I
tell ! "

She raised her head with a sudden move-
ment, and began with nervous fingers to open
Dare's letters, and read them carefully.

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 57

CHAPTER III.

Ix the long evening that followed Ruth's
departure from Stoke Moreton, Charles was
alone for once in his own home. He was
leaving again early on the morrow, but for
the time he was alone, and heavy at heart.
He sat for hours without stirring, looking
into the fire. He had no power or will to
control his thoughts. They wandered hither
and thither, and up and down, never for a
moment easing the dull miserable pain that
lay beneath them all.

Fool ! fool that he had been !

To have found her after all these years,
and to have lost her without a stroke ! To
have let another take her, and such a man as
Dare ! To have such a fool's manner that
he was thought to be in earnest when he

58 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

was least so ; that now, when his whole
future hung in the balance, retribution had
overtaken him, and with bitter Irony had
mocked at his earnestness and made it of
none effect. She had thought It was his
natural manner to all ! His cursed folly had
lost her to him. If she had known, surely it
would have been, it must have been different.
At heart Charles was a very humble man,
though it was not to be expected many
would think so ; but nevertheless he had a
deep, ever deepening consciousness (common
to the experience of the humblest once In a
lifetime), that between him and Ruth that
mysterious link of mutual understanding and
sympathy existed, which cannot be accounted
for, which eludes analysis, which yet makes,
when the sex happens to be identical, the
indissoluble friendship of a David and a
Jonathan, a Karlos and a Posa ; and where
there is a difference of sex, brings about that
rarest wonder of the world— a happy marriage.
Like cleaves to like. He knew she would

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 59

have loved him. She was his by right.
The same law of attraction which had lifted
them at once out of the dreary flats of ordinary
acquaintanceship, would have drawn them
ever close and closer together till they were
knit in one. He knew, with a certainty that
nothincr could shake, that he could have
made her love him, even as he loved her ;
unconsciously at first, slowly perhaps, for the
current of strong natures, like that of deep
rivers, is sometimes slow. Still the end
would have been the same.

And he had lost her by his own act, by his
own heedless folly ; her want of vanity having
lent a hand the while to put her beyond his
reach for ever.

It was a bitter hour.

And as he sat late into the nieht beside
the fire, that died down to dust and ashes
before his absent eyes, ghosts of other heavy
hours, ghosts of the past which he had long
since buried out of his sight, came back and
would not be denied.

6o SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

To live much in the past is a want of faith
in the Power that gives the present. Com-
paratively few men walk through their lives
looking backwards. Women more frequently
do so from a false estimate of life, fostered
by romantic feeling in youth, which leads
them, if the life of the affections is ended,
resolutely to refuse to regard existence in
any other maturer aspect, and to persist in
wandering aimlessly forward, with eyes turned
ever on the dim flowery paths of former
days.

" Let the dead past bury its dead."

But there comes a time, when the grass
has grown over those graves, when we may
do well to go and look at them once more ;
to stand once again in that solitary burial
ground, '' where," as an earnest man has said,
'' are buried broken vows, worn-out hopes,
joys blind and deaf, faiths betrayed or gone
astray, lost, lost love ; silent spaces where only
one mourner ever comes."

And to the least retrospective of us our

SIR CHARI.ES DANVERS. 6l

dead past yet speaks at times, and speaks as
one having authority.

Such a time had come for Charles now.
From the open grave of his love for Ruth
he turned to look at others by which he had
stood long ago, in grief as sharp, but which
yet in all its bitterness had never struck as
deep as this.

Memory pointed back to a time twenty
years ago, when he had hurried home through
a long summer night to arrive at Stoke
Moreton too late ; to find only the solemn
shadow of the mother whom he had loved,
and whom he had grieved ; too late to ask for
forgiveness ; too late for anything but a wild
passion of grief and remorse, and frantic self-
accusation.

The scene shifted to ten years later. It
was a sultry July evening, the evening of the
day on which the woman whom he had loved
for years had married his brother. He was
standinof on the deck of the steamer which
was taking him from England, looking back

62 SIR CHARLES J)ANVERS.

at the grey town dwindling against the tawny-
curtain of the sunset. In his brain was a
wild clamour of wedding bells, and across
the water, marking the pulse of the sea, came
to his outward ears the slow tollino^ of a bell
on a sunken rock near the harbour mouth.

It seemed to be tolling for the death of all
that remained of o-ood in him. In losing
Evelyn, whom he had loved with all the
idealism and reverence of a reckless man for
a good woman, he believed, in the bitterness
of his spirit, that he had lost all ; that he had
been cut adrift from the last mooring to a
better future, that nothing could hold him
back now. And for a time it had been so,
and he had drowned his trouble in a sea in
which he well-nigh drowned himself as well.

Once more Memory pointed; pointed
across five dark years to an evening when he
had sat as he was sitting now, alone by the
wide stone hearth in the hall at Stoke Moreton,
after his father's death, and after the reading
of the will. He was the possessor of the old

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 63

home, which he had always passionately loved,
from w^hich he had been virtually banished so
long. His father, who had never liked him,
but who of late }'ears had hated him, as men
only hate their eldest sons, had left all in his
power to his second son, had entailed every
acre of the Stoke Moreton and other family
properties upon him and his children.
Charles could touch nothing, and over him
hung a millstone of debt, from which there
was now no escape. He sat with his head
in his hands, the man whom his friends were
envying on his accession to supposed wealth
and position — ruined.

A few days later he was summoned to
London by a man whom he had known for
many years. He remembered well that last
meeting with the stern old man whom he
had found sitting in his armchair with death
in his face. He had once or twice remon-
strated with Charles in earlier days, and as
he came into his presence now for the last
time, and met his severe glance, he supposed,

64 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

with the callousness that comes from suffering
which has reached its lowest depths, that he
was about to rebuke him again.

''And so," said General Marston sternly,
'' you have come into your kingdom ; into
wdiat you deserve."

" Yes," said Charles. '' If It Is any pleasure
to you to know that what you prophesied on
several occasions has come true, you can
enjoy It. I am ruined."

" You fool !" said the sick man slowly. '' To
have come to five and thirty, and to have
used up everything which makes life worth
having. I am not speaking only of money.
There Is a bankruptcy in your face that
money will never pay. And you had talent,
and a good heart, and the making of a man
in you once ! I saw that when your father
turned you adrift. I saw that when you were
at your worst after your brother s marriage.
Yes, you need not start. I knew your secret,
and kept it as well as you did yourself. I tried
to stop you ; but you w^ent your own way."

SIR CPIARLES DAXVERS. 65

Charles was silent. It was true, and he
knew It.

''And so you thought, I suppose, that if
your father had made a just will you could
have retrieved yourself ? "

'' I know I could," said Charles firmly ;
'' but he left the — ■ — shire property to Ralph,
and every shilling of his capital ; and Ralph
had my mother's fortune already. I have
Stoke Aloreton and the place in Surrey,
which he could not take from me, but every-
thing is entailed, down to the trees In the
park. I have nominally a large income ; but
I am In the hands of the Jews. I can't
settle with them as I expected, and they will
squeeze me to the uttermost. However, as
you say, I have the consolation of knowing I
brought In on mvself."

'' And If your father had acted justly, as
you would call It, which I knew he never
would, you would have run through every-
thing In five years' time."

*' No, I should not. I know I have been

VOL. II. 23

66 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

a fool ; but there are two kinds of fools — the
kind that sticks to folly all its life, and the
kind that has Its fling, and has done with it.
I belong to the second kind. My father had
no right to take my last chance from me. If
he had left It me I should have used it."

" You look tired of your fling," said the
elder man. '' Very tired. And you think
money would set you right, do you ? " He
looked critically at the worn, desperate face
opposite him. " I made my will the other
day," he went on, his eyes still fixed on
Charles. '' I had not much to leave, and I
have no near relations, so I divided it among
various charitable institutions. I see no
reason to alter my will. If one leaves money,
however small the sum may be, one likes to
think It has been left to some purpose, with
some prospect of doing good. A few^ days
ago I had a surprise. I fancy it was to be
my last surprise in this world. I inherited
from a distant relation, who died intestate, a
large fortune. After being a poor man all

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 6"]

my days, wealth comes to me when I am on
the point of going where money won't follow.
Curious, isn't it ? I am oroinof to leave this
second sum in the same spirit as the first, but
in rather a different manner. I like to know
what I am doing, so I sent for you. I am of
opinion that the best thing I can do with it,
is to set you on your legs again. What do
you owe ? "

Charles turned very red, and then very
white.

" What do you owe ? " repeated the sick
man testily. '' I am getting tired. How
much is it ? " He got out a cheque-book,
and began filling it in. " Have you no
tongue ? " he said angrily, looking up. " Tell
me the exact figure. Well ? Keep nothing
back."

" I won't be given the whole," said Charles
with an oath. '' Give me enough to settle
the Jews, and I will do the rest out of my
income. I won't o^et off scot free."

" Well, then, have your own way as usual,

68 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

and name the sum you want. There, take It,"
he said feebly, when Charles had mentioned
with shame a certain hideous figure, '' and
go. I shall never know what you do with it,
so you can play ducks and drakes with it if
you like. But you won't like. You have
burned your fingers too severely to play with
fire again. You have turned over so many
new leaves that now you have come to the
last in the book. I have given you another
chance, Charles ; but one man can't do much
to help another. The only person who can
really help you is yourself. Give yourself a
chance, too."

How memory brought back every word of
that strange interview. Charles saw again
the face of the dying man ; heard again the
stern, feeble voice, '' Give yourself a chance."

He had eiven himself a chance. " Some
natures, like comets, make strange orbits,
and return from far." Charles had returned
at last. The old man's investment had been
a wise one. But as Charles looked back,

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 69

after three years, he saw that his friend had
been right. His money debts had been the
least part of what he owed. There were
other lone-standino^ accounts which he had
paid in full during these three years, paid in
the restless weariness and disappointment
that underlay his life, in the loneliness in
which he lived, in his contempt for all his
former pursuits, which had left him at first
devoid of any pursuits at all.

He had had, as was natural, very little
happiness in his life, but all the bitterness of
all his bitter past seemed as nothing to the
agony of this moment. He had loved
Evelyn with his imagination, but he loved
Ruth with his whole heart and soul, and — he
had lost her.

The nio^ht was far advanced. The dawn
was already making faint bars over the tops
of the shutters, was looking in at him as he
sat motionless by his dim lamp and his dead
fire. And, in spite of the growing dawn, it
was a dark hour.

70 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER IV.

Dare returned to Vandoii in the highest
spirits, with an enormous emerald engage-
ment ring in an inner waistcoat pocket. He
put it on Ruth's third finger a few days later,
under the ancient cedar on the terrace at
Vandon, a spot wdiich, he informed her (for
he was not without poetic flights at times),
his inner consciousness associated with all
the love scenes of his ancestors that were no
more.

He was stricken to the heart w^hen, after
duly admiring it, Ruth gently explained to
him that she could not wear his ring at
present, until her engagement was given
out.

*' Let it then be given out," he said im-

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 7 1

petuously. ''Ah! why already Is It not
given out ? "

She explained again, but It was difficult to
make him understand, and she felt conscious
that If he would have allowed her the
temporary use of one hand to release a fly,
which was loslne all self-control Inside her
veil, she might have been more lucid. As It
was, she at last made him realize the fact
that until Lord Polesworth's return from
America in November, no further step was
to be taken.

" But all Is right," he urged with pride.
" I have seen my lawyer ; I make a settle-
ment. I raise money on the property to
make a settlement. There is nothing I will
not do. I care for nothing only to marry
you.

Ruth led him to talk of other things. She
was very gentle with him, always attentive,
always ready to be interested ; but any one
less self-centred than Dare would have had
a miselvinof about her feeling for him. He

72 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

had none. Half his \i(q he had spent in
Paris, and, embued with French ideas of
betrothal and marriage, he thought her
manner at once exceedingly becoming and
natural. She was reserved, but reserve was
charming. She did not care for him very
much perhaps, as yet, but as much as she
could care for any one. Most men think
that if a woman does not attach herself to
them she is by nature cold. Dare was no
exception to the rule ; and though he would
have preferred that there should be less con-
straint in their present intercourse, that she
would be a little more shy, and a little less
calm, still he was supremely happy and
proud, and only longed to proclaim the
fortunate state of his affairs to the world.

One thing about Ruth puzzled him very
much, and with a strange misgiving she saw
it did so. Her interest in the Vandon
cottages, and the schools, and the new pump,
had been most natural up to this time. It
had served to bring them together. But

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. J 2i

now the use of these things was past, and
yet he observed, with increduhty at first and
astonishment afterwards, that she clung to
them more than ever.

What mattered it for the moment whether
the pump was put up or not, or whether the
cottages by the river were protected from
the floods ? Of course in time, for he had
promised, a vague something would be done ;
but why in the golden season of love and
plighted faith revert to prosaic subjects such
as these ?

Some men are quite unable to believe in
any act of a woman being genuine. They
always find out that it has something to do
with them. If an angel came down from
heaven to warn a man of this kind of wrath
to come, he would think the real object of
her journey was to make his acquaintance.

Ruth saw the incredulity in Dare's face
when she questioned him, and her hearr sank
within her. It sank yet lower when she told
him one day, with a faint smile, that she

74 '"^IR CHARLES DANVERS.

knew he was not rich, and that she wanted
him to let her help in the rebuilding of certain
cottages, the plans of which he had brought
over in the summer, but which had not
yet been begun, apparently for want of
funds.

** What you cannot do alone we can do
together," she said.

He agreed with effusion. He was sur-
prised, flattered, delighted ; but entirely
puzzled.

The cottages were begun immediately.
They were near the river, which divided the
Slumberleigh and Vandon properties. Ruth
often went to look at them. It did her good
to see them rising, strong and firm, though
hideous to behold, on higher ground than the
poor dilapidated hovels at the water s edge,
where fever was always breaking out, which
yet made, as they supported each other in
their crookedness, and leant over their own
wavering reflections, such a picturesque
sketch that it seemed a shame to supplant

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 75

them by such brand new red brick, such blue
tiling, such dreadful little porches.

Ruth drew the old condemned cottages,
Avith the long lines of pollarded marshy
meadow, and the distant bridge and mill in
the backo^round, but it was a sketch she
never cared to look at afterwards. She was
constantly drawiuQf now. There was a
vaofue restlessness in her at this time that
made her take refuge in the world of nature,
where the mind can withdraw itself from
itself for a time into a stronofhold where mis-
giving and anxiety cannot corrupt, nor self
break through and steal. In these days she
shut out self steadfastly, and fixed her eyes
firmly on the future, as she herself had made
it with her own hands.

She had grown very grave of late. Dare's
high spirits had the effect of depressing her
more than she would allow, even to herself.
She liked him. She told herself so every
day, and it was a pleasure to her to see him
so happy. But when she had accepted him

76 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

he was so diffident, so quiet, so anxious, that
she had not reahzed that he would return
to his previous happy self-confidence, his
volubility, his grey hats, in fact his former
gay self directly his mind was at ease and
he had got what he wanted. She saw at
once that the chancre was natural, but she
found it difficult to keep pace with, and the
effort to do so was a constant strain.

She had yet to learn that it is hard to
live for those who live for self. Between
a nature which struggles, however feebly,
towards a higher life, and one whose sole
object is gracefully and good-naturedly, but
persistently to enjoy itself, there is a great
gulf fixed, of which often neither are aware,
until they attempt a close relationship with
each other, when the chasm reveals itself
with appalling clearness to the higher nature
of the two.

Ruth was glad when a long-standing
engagement to sing at a private concert in
one place, and sell modern knickknacks in old

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. ']']

English costume at another, took her from
Slumberlelgh for a week. She looked forward
to the dreary dissipation in store for her with
positive gladness ; and when the week had
passed, and she was returning once more,
she wished the stations would not fly so
quickly past, that the train would not hurry
itself so unnecessarily to bring her back to
Slumberleigh.

As the little local line passed Stoke
Moreton station she looked out for a
moment, but leaned back hurriedly as she
caught a glimpse of the Danvers' omnibus in
the background, with its great black horses,
and a footman with a bag standing on the
platform. In another moment Mrs. Alwynn,
followed by the footman, made a dart at
Ruth's carriage, jumped in, seized the bag,
repeated voluble thanks, pressed half her
gaily dressed person out again through the
window to ascertain that her boxes were put
in the van, caugrht her veil in the ventilator
as the train started, and finally precipitated

78 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

herself Into a seat on her bag, as the motion
destroyed her equIHbrium.

'' Well, Aunt Fanny ! " said Ruth.

" Why, goodness gracious, my dear, if it
Isn't you ! And, now I think of it, you were
to come home to-day. Well, how oddly
things fall out to be sure, me getting into
your carriage like that. And you'll never
guess, Ruth, though for that matter there's
nothing so very astonishing about It, as I
told Mrs. Thursby, you'll never guess where
Tzjc been visiting."

Ruth remembered seeing the Danvers'
omnibus at the station, and suddenly remem-
bered too, a certain request which she had
once made of Charles.

*' Where can It have been ? " she said, with
a great show of curiosity.

" You will never guess," said Mrs. Alwynn,
in high glee. '' I shall have to help you.
You remember my sprained ankle ? There !
Now I have as good as told you."

But Ruth would not spoil her aunt's

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 79

pleasure ; and after numerous guesses, Mrs.
Alwynn had the dehght of taking her com-
pletely by surprise, when at last she leaned
forward and said, with a rustle of pride,
emphasizing each word with a pat on Ruth's
knee —

" I've been to Stoke Moreton."

" How delightful ! " ejaculated Ruth. '' How
astonished I am ! Stoke Moreton ! "

*' You may well say that," said Mrs.
Alwynn, nodding to her. '' Mrs. Thursby
would not believe it at first, and afterwards
she said she was afraid there would not be
any party ; but there was, Ruth. There was a
married couple, very nice people, of the name
of Reynolds. I dare say, being London
people, you may have known them. She had
quite the London look about her, though not
dressed low of an evening ; and he was a
clergyman, who had overworked himself, and
had come down to Stoke Moreton to rest,
and had soup at luncheon. And there was
another person besides, a Colonel Middleton,

8o SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

a very clever man, who wrote a book that
was printed, and had been in India, and was
altogether most superior. We were three
gentlemen and two ladies, but we had ices
each night, Ruth, two kinds of Ices ; and the
second night I wore my ruby satin, and the
clergyman at Stoke Moreton, that nice young
Mr. Brown, who comes to your uncle's
chapter meetings, dined, with his sister, a
very pleasing person Indeed, Ruth, In black.
In fact, it was a very pleasant little gathering,
so nice and informal, and the footmen did not
wait at luncheon, just put the pudding and
the hot plates down to the fire ; and Sir
Charles so chatty and so full of his jokes, and
I always like to hear him, though my scent
of humour is not quite the same as his. Sir
Charles has a feeling heart, Ruth. You
should have heard Mr. Reynolds talk about
him. But he looked very thin and pale, my
dear, and he seemed to be always so tired,
but still as pleasant as could be. And I told
him he wanted a wife to look after him, and

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 8 1

I advised him to have an egg beaten up in
ever such a Httle drop of brandy at eleven
o'clock, and he said he would think about it,
he did indeed, Ruth ; so I just went quietly
to the housekeeper and asked her to see
about it, and a very sensible person she was,
Ruth, been in the family twenty years, and
thinks all the world of Sir Charles, and
showed me the damask table cloths that
were used for the prince's visit, and the
white satin coverlet, embroidered with gold
thistles, quite an heirloom, which had been
worked by the ladies of the house when
James I. slept there. Think of that, my
dear ! "

And so Mrs. Alwynn rambled on, recount-
ing how Charles had shown her all the
pictures himself, and the piazza where the
orange and myrtle trees were, and how she
and Mrs. Reynolds had gone for a drive
together, " in a beautiful landau," etc., etc.,
till they reached home.

As a rule Ruth rather shrank from travel-

VOL. II. 24

82 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

ling with Mrs. Alwynn, who always journeyed
in her best clothes, "because you never know
whom you may not meet." To stand on a
platform with her was to be made conspicuous,
and Ruth generally found herself uncon-
sciously going into half mourning for the day,
when she went anywhere by rail with her
aunt. To-day Mrs. Alwynn was more gaily
dressed than ever, but as Ruth looked at her
beaming face she felt nothing but a strange
pleasure in the fact that Charles had not for-
gotten the little request which later events
had completely effaced from her own memory.
He, it seemed, had remembered, and in spite
of what had passed, had done what she asked
him. She wished that she could have told
him she was grateful. Alas ! There were
other things that she wished she could have
told him ; that she was sorry she had mis-
judged him ; that she understood him better
now. But what did it matter ! What did
it matter ! She was going to marry Dare,
and he was the person whom she must

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 83

try to understand for the remainder of
her natural Hfe. She thought a little wearily
that she could understand Jiiin without
trying.

84 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER V.

The 1 8th of October had arrived. Slumber-
lelgh Hall was filling. The pheasants,
reprieved till then, supposed it was only for
partridge shooting, and thinking no evil, ate
Indian corn, and took no thought for the
annual St. Bartholomew of their race.

Mabel Thursby had met Ruth out walking
that day, and had informed her that Charles
was to be one of the guns, also Dare, though,
as she remembered to add, suspecting Dare
admired Ruth, the latter was a bad shot, and
was only asked out of neighbourly feeling.

After parting with Mabel, Ruth met, almost
at her own gate, Ralph Danvers, who passed
her on horseback, and then turned on recog-
nizing her. Ralphs conversational powers

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 85

were not great, and though he walked his
horse beside her, he chiefly contented him-
self with assentino- to Ruth's remarks until
<_>

she asked after iNIoUy.

He at once whistled, and flicked a fly off
his horse's neck.

" Sad business with ]\Iolly," he said ; '' and
mother out for the day. Great grief in the
nursery. \^ic's dead ! "

" Oh, poor ^lolly ! "

" Died this morning. Fits. I say," with
a sudden inspiration, '* you wouldn't go over
and cheer her up, would you ? ]^I other's
out. I'm out. ^Magistrates' meeting at
D ."

Ruth said she had nothing to do, and
would go over at once, and Ralph nodded
kindly at her, and rode on. He liked her,
and it never occurred to him that it could be
anything but a privilege to minister to any
need of Molly's. He jogged on more happily
after his meeting with Ruth, and only remem-
bered half an hour later that he had com-

86 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

pletely forgotten to order the dog-cart to
meet Charles, who was coming to Ather-
stone for a night before he went on to kill
the Slumberleigh pheasants the following
morninor.

Ruth set out at once over the pale stubble
fields, glad of an object for a walk.

Deep distress reigned meanwhile in the
nursery at Atherstone. Vic, the much-
beloved, the stoat pursuer, the would-be
church goer, Vic was dead, and Molly's soul
refused comfort. In vain nurse conveyed a
palpitating guinea pig into the nursery in a
bird cage, on the narrow door of which
remains of fur showed an unwilling entrance ;
Molly could derive no comfort from guinea
pigs.

In vain was the new horse, with leather
hoofs, with real hair, and a horsehair tail —
in vain was that token of esteem from Uncle
Charles brouo-ht out of its stable, and un-
evenly yoked with a dappled pony planted
on a green oval lawn, into Molly's own hay

SIR CHARLES DANVERS." 87

cart. Molly's woe was beyond the reach of
hay carts, or horsehair tails, however realistic.
Like Hezekiah, she turned her face to the
nursery wall, on which trains and railroads
were depicted ; and even when cook herself
rose up out of her kitchen to comfort
her with material consolations, she refused
the mockery of a gingerbread nut, which
could not restore the friend with whom
previous gingerbread nuts had always been
divided.

Presently a step came along the passage,
and Charles, who had found no one in the
drawing-room, came in tired and dusty, and
inclined to be annoyed at having had to walk
up from the station.

Molly flew to him, and flung her arms
tightly round his neck.

'' Oh, Uncle Charles ! Uncle Charles !
Vic is dead ! "

'' I am so sorry, Molly," taking her on his
knee.

Nurse and the nurserv maid and cook

88 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

withdrew, leaving the two mourners alone
together.

''He is dead. Uncle Charles. He was
quite well, and eating Albert biscuits with

the dolls this morning, and now " The

rest was too dreadful, and Molly burst into a
flood of tears, and burrowed with her head
against the faithful waistcoat of Uncle
Charles — Uncle Charles, the friend, the con-
soler of all the ills that Molly had so far
been heir to.

''Vic had a very happy life, Molly," said
Charles, pressing the little brown head
against his cheek, and vaguely wondering
what it would be like to have any one to turn
to in time of trouble.

" I always kept trouble from him, except
that time I shut him in the door," gasped
Molly. " I never took him out in a string, and
he only wore his collar — that collar you gave
him, that made him scratch so — on Sundays."

" And he was not ill a long time. He did
not suffer any pain."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 89

" No, Uncle Charles, not much ; but though
he did not say anything, his face looked
worse than screaming, and he passed away
very stiff in his hind legs. Oh ! " (with a fresh
outburst), " when cook told me that her sister
that was in a decline had gone, I never
thought," (sob, sob !) " poor Vic would be the
next.

A step came along the passage, a firm
light step that Charles knew, that made his
heart beat violently.

The door opened and a familiar voice said —

'' Molly ! My poor Molly ! I met father,
and "

Ruth stood in the doorway, and stopped
short. A wave of colour passed over her
face, and left it paler than usual.

Charles looked at her over the mop of
Molly's brown head against his breast. Their
^rave eyes met, and each thought how ill
the other looked.

" I did not know — I thought you were
going to Slumberleigh to-day," said Ruth.

90 SIR chart.es danvers.

** I go to-morrow morninor," replied Charles.
" I came here first."

There was an awkward silence ; but Molly
came to their relief by a sudden rush at
Ruth, and a repetition of the details of the
death-bed scene of poor Vic for her benefit,
for which both were grateful.

" You ouQ^ht to be thlnkinof where he Is to
be burled, Molly," suggested Charles, when
she had finished. " Let us go into the
garden and find a place."

Molly revived somewhat at the prospect of
a funeral, and, though Ruth was anxious to
leave her with her uncle, Insisted on her
remaining for the ceremony. They went
out together, Molly holding a hand of each,
to choose a suitable spot In the garden. By
the time the grave had been dug by Charles,
Molly was sufficiently recovered to take a
lively Interest In the proceedings, and to
insist on the attendance of the stable cat, in
deep mourning, when the remains of poor
Vic, arrayed In his best collar, wer^e lowered
into their long home.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 9 1

By the time the last duties to the dead had
been performed, and Charles, under Molly's
direction, had planted a rose tree on the
grave, while Ruth surrounded the little
mound with white pebbles, Molly's tea-time
had arrived, and that young- lady allowed
herself to be led away b}^ the nursery maid,
with the stable cat in a close embrace,
resigned, and even cheerful at the remem-
brance of those creature comforts of cook's,
which earlier in the day she had refused so
peremptorily.

When ^lolly left them, Ruth and Charles
walked together in silence to the garden
gate which led to the footpath over the fields
by which she had come. Neither had a
word to say, who formerly had so much.

'' Good-bye," she said, without looking at
him.

He seemed Intent on the hasp of the gate.

There was a moment's pause.

" I should like," said Ruth, hating herself
for the formality of her tone, '' to thank you

92 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

before I go for giving Mrs. Alwynn so much
pleasure. She still talks of her visit to you.
It was kind of you to remember it. So
much seems to have happened since then,
that I had not thought of it again."

At her last words Charles raised his eyes
and looked at her with strange wistful in-
tentness, but when Ruth had finished speak-
ing he had no remark to make in answer ;
and as he stood bareheaded by the gate,
twirling the hasp and looking, as a hasty
glance told her, so worn and jaded in the
sunshine, she said '' Good-bye " again, and
turned hastily away.

And all along the empty harvested fields,
and all along the lanes, where the hips and
haws grew red and stiff among the ruddy
hedgerows, Ruth still saw Charles's grave
worn face.

That night she saw it still, as she sat in
her own room, and listened to the whisper
of the rain upon the roof, and the touch of
its myriad fingers on the window-panes.

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 93

'' I cannot bear to see him look like that.
I cannot bear it," she said suddenly, and the
Storm which had been o^atherine so lone, the
clouds of which had darkened the sky for so
many days, broke at last, with a strong and
mighty wind of swift emotion which carried
all before it.

It was a relief to give way, to let the
tempest do its worst, and remain passive.
But when its force was spent at last, and it
died away in gusts and flying showers, it left
flood and wreckage and desolation behind.
When Ruth raised her head and looked
about her, all her landmarks were gone.
There was a streaming glory in the heavens,
but It shone on the ruin of all her little world
below. She loved Charles, and she knew it.
It seemed to her now as if. thouo^h she had
not realized it, she must have loved him
from the first ; and with the knowledge came
an overwhelming sense of utter misery that
struck terror to her heart. She understood
at last the meaning- of the weariness and the

94 SII^ CHARLES DANVERS.

restless misgivings of these last weeks. If
heretofore they had spoken in riddles, they
spoke plainly now. Every other feeling in
the world seemed to have been swept away
by a passion, the overwhelming strength of
which she regarded panic-stricken. She
seemed to have been asleep all her life, to
have stirred restlessly once or twice of late,
and now to have waked to consciousness and
ao-ony. Love, with women like Ruth, is a
great happiness or a great calamity. It is
with them indeed for better, for worse.

Those whose feelings lie below the surface
escape the hundred rubs and scratches which
superficial natures are heir to ; but it is the
nerve which is not easily reached which when
touched gives forth the sharpestpang. Nature,
when she gives intensity of feeling, mercifully
covers it well with a certain superficial cold-
ness. Ruth had sometimes wondered why
the incidents, the books, which called forth
emotion in others, passed her by. The
vehement passion which once or twice in her

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 95

life she had involuntarily awakened in others
had met with no response from herself. The
sight of the fire she had unwittingly kindled
only made her shiver with cold. She believed
herself to be cold — always a dangerous as-
sumption on the part of a woman, and apt
to prove a broken reed in emergency.

Charles knew her better than she knew
herself. Her pride and unconscious humble-
mindedness, her frankness with its under-
lying reserve, spoke of a strong nature, slow,
perhaps, but earnest, constant, and, once
roused, capable of deep attachment.

And now the common lot had befallen her,
the common lot of man and womankind since
Adam first met Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Ruth was not exempt.

She loved Charles.

When the dawn came up pale and tearful
to wake the birds, it found her still sitting
by her window, sitting where she had sat all
night, looking with blank eyes at nothing.

96 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Creep Into bed, Ruth, for already the sparrows
are all waking, and their cheerful greetings
to the new day add weariness to your weari-
ness. Creep into bed, for soon the servants
will be stirring, and before long Martha, who
has slept all night, and thinks your lines have
fallen to you in pleasant places and late hours,
will bring the hot water.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 97

CHAPTER VI.

Reserved people pay dear for their reserve
when they are in trouble, when the iron
enters into their soul, and their eyes meet
the eyes of the world tearless, unflinching,
making no sign.

Enviable are those whose sorrows are only
pen and ink deep, who take every one into
their confidence, who are comforted by sym-
pathy, and fly to those who will weep with
them. There is an utter solitude, a silence
in the grief of a proud, reserved nature which
adds a frightful weight to its intensity ; and
when the night comes, and the chamber door
is shut, who shall say what agonies of prayers
and tears, what prostrations of despair pass
like waves over the soul, to make the balance
even ?
VOL. II. . 25

98 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

As a rule, the kindest and best of people
seldom notice any alteration of appearance
or manner in one of their own family. A
stranger points it out, if it ever is pointed
out, which happily is not often, unless, of
course, in cases where advice has been dis-
regarded, and the first symptom of ill-health
is jealously watched for, and triumphantly
hailed, by those whose mission in life it is
to say, " I told you so."

Mrs. Alwynn, whose own complaints were
of so slight a nature that they had to be
constantly referred to to give them any im-
portance at all, was not likely to notice that
Ruth's naturally pale complexion had become
several degrees too pale during the last two
days, or that she had dark rings under her
eyes. Besides, only the day before, had not
Mrs. Alwynn, in cutting out a child's shirt,
cut out at the same time her best drawing-
room table cloth as well, which calamity had
naturally driven out of her mind every other
subject for the time.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 99

Ruth had proved unsympathetic, and Mrs.
Alwynn had felt her to be so. The next
day, also, when Mrs. Alwynn had begun to
talk over what she and Ruth were to wear
that evening at a dinner-party at Slumber-
leigh Hall, Ruth had again shown a decided
want of interest, and was not even to be
roused by the various conjectures of her aunt,
though repeated over and over again, as to
who would most probably take her in to
dinner, who would be assigned to Mr. Alwynn,
and whether Ruth would be taken in by a
married man or a single one. As it was
quite impossible absolutely to settle these
interesting points beforehand, Mrs. Alwynn's
mind had a vast field for conjecture opened
to her, in which she disported herself at will,
varying the entertainment for herself and
Ruth by speculating as to who would sit on
the other side of each of them ; " for," as she
justly observed, " everybody has two sides,
my dear ; and though, for my part, I can talk
to anybody — Members of Parliament, or

lOO SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

bishops, or any one — still it is difficult for a
young person ; and if you feel dull, Ruth,
you can always turn to the person on the
other side with some easy little remark."

Ruth rose and went to the window. It
had rained all yesterday ; it had been raining
all the morning to-day, but it was fair now ;
nay, the sun was sending out long burnished
shafts from the broken grey and blue of the
sky. She was possessed by an unreasoning
longing to get out of the house into the open
air — anywhere, no matter where, beyond the
reach of Mrs. Alwynn's voice. She had
been fairly patient with her for many months,
but during these two last wet days a sense of
sudden miserable irritation would seize her
on the slightest provocation, which filled her
with remorse and compunction, but into
which she would relapse at a moment's notice.
Every morning since her arrival, nine months
ago, had Mrs. Alwynn returned from her
housekeeping with the same cheerful bustle,
the same piece of information — " Well, Ruth,

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. lOI

I've ordered dinner, my dear. First one
duty, and then another ! "

Why had that innocent and not unfamihar
phrase become so intolerable when she heard
it again this morning ? And when Mrs.
Alwynn wound up the musical-box, and the
'' Buffalo Girls " tinkled on the ear to relieve
the monotony of a wet morning, why should
Ruth have struggled wildly for a moment
with a sudden inclination to laugh and cry
at the same time, which resulted in two large
tears falling unexpectedly, to her surprise
and shame, upon her book ?

She shut the book, and recovering herself
with an effort, listened patiently to Mrs.
Alwynn's remarks, until, early in the after-
noon, the sky cleared. Making some excuse
about going to see her old nurse at the lodge
at Arleigh, who was still ill, she at last
effected her escape out of the room, and out
of the house.

The air was fresh and clear, though cold.
The familiar fields and beaded hedgerows,

I02 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

the red land, new ploughed, where the plovers
hovered, the grey broken sky above, soothed
Ruth like the presence of a friend, as Nature,
even in her commonest moods, has ministered
to many an one who has loved her before
Ruth's time.

Our human loves partake always of the
nature of speculations. We have no security
for our capital (which, fortunately, is seldom
so large as we suppose), but the love of
Nature is a sure investment, which she
repays a thousandfold, which she repays
most prodigally when the heart is bankrupt
and full of bitterness, as Ruth's heart was
that day. For in Nature, as Wordsworth
says, '' there is no bitterness," that worst
sting of human grief. And as Ruth walked
among the quiet fields, and up the yellow
aisles of the autumn glades to Arleigh, Nature
spoke of peace to her — not of joy or of
happiness as in old days, for she never lies,
as human comforters do, and these had gone
out of her life ; but of the peace that duty

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I03

Steadfastly adhered to will bring at last ; the
peace that after much turmoil will come in
the end to those who, amid a babel of louder
tongues, hear and obey the low-pitched voices
of conscience and of principle.

For it never occurred to Ruth for a
moment to throw over Dare and marry
Charles. She had given her word to Dare,
and her word was her bond. It was as
much a matter of being true to herself as
to him. It was very simple. There were
no two ways about it in her mind. The
idea of breaking off her engagement was
not to be thought of. It would be dis-
honourable.

We often think that if we had been placed
in the same difficulties which we see over-
whelm others, we could have got out of them.
Just so ; we might have squeezed, or wriggled,
or crept out of a position from which another
who would not stoop could not have escaped.
People are differently constituted. Most
persons with common sense can sink their

I04 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

principles temporarily at a pinch ; but others
there are who go through life prisoners on
parole to their sense of honour or duty. If
escape takes the form of a temptation, they
do not escape. And Ruth, walking with
bent head beneath the swaying trees, dreamed
of no escape.

She soon reached the little lodge, the rusty
gates of which barred the grass-grown drive
to the shuttered, tenantless old house at a
little distance. It was a small grey stone
house of many gables, and low lines of
windows, that if inhabited would have
possessed but little charm, but which in its
deserted state had a certain pathetic interest.
The place had been to let for years, but no
one had taken it ; no one was likely to take
it in the disrepair which was now fast sliding
into ruin.

The garden beds were almost grown over
with weeds, but blots of nasturtium colour
showed here and there among the ragged
green, and a Virginia creeper had done its

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. IO5

gorgeous red-and-yellow best to cheer the
grey stone walls. But the place had a dreary
appearance even in the present sunshine ;
and, after looking at it for a moment, Ruth
went indoors to see her old nurse. After
sitting with her, and reading the usual
favourite chapter in the big Bible, and
answering the usual question of '' any news
of Master Raymond " in the usual way, Ruth
got up to go, and the old woman asked her
if she wanted the drawing-block which she
had left with her some time ago, with an
unfinished sketch on it of the stables. She
got it out, and Ruth looked at it. It was a
slight sketch of an octagonal building with
wide arches all round it, roofing in a paved
path, on which, in days gone by, it had
evidently been the pernicious custom to exer-
cise the horses, whose stalls and loose boxes
formed the centre of the building. The
stable had a certain quaintness, and the
sketch was at that delightful point when no
random stroke has as yet falsified the promise

I06 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

that a finished drawing, however clever, so
seldom fulfils.

Ruth took It up, and looked out of the
window. The sun was blazing out, ashamed
of his absence for so long. She might as
well finish it now. She was glad to be out
of the way of meeting any one, especially the
shooters, whose guns she had heard in the
nearer Slumberleigh coverts several times
that afternoon. The Arleigh woods she
knew were to be kept till later in the month.
She took her block and paint-box, and pick-
ing her way along the choked gravel walk
and down the side drive to the stables, sat
down on the bench for chopping wood which
had been left in the place to which she had
previously dragged it, and set to work. She
was sitting under one of the arches out of
the wind, and an obsequious yellow cat came
out of the door of one of the nearest horse-
boxes in which wood was evidently stacked,
and rubbed Itself against her dress, with a
reckless expenditure of hair.

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. lOJ

As Ruth Stopped a moment, bored but
courteous, to return its well-meant atten-
tions by friction behind the ears, she heard
a slight crackling among the wood in the
stable. Rats abounded in the place, and
she was just about to recall the cat to its
professional duties, when her own atten-
tion was also distracted. She started vio-
lently, and grasped the drawing-block in
both hands.

Clear over the gravel, muffled but still dis-
tinct across the long wet grass, she could
hear a firm step coming. Then it rang out
sharply on the stone pavement. A tall man
came suddenly round the corner, under the
archway, and stood before her. It was
Charles.

The yellow cat, which had a leaning
towards the aristocracy, left Ruth, and picking
its way daintily over the round stones towards
him, rubbed off some more of its wardrobe
against his heather shooting stockings.

" I hardly think it is worth while to say

I08 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

anything except the truth," said Charles at
last. " I have followed you here."

As Ruth could say nothing in reply, it was
fortunate that at the moment she had nothing
to say. She continued to mix a little pool
of Prussian blue and Italian pink without
looking up.

" I hurt my gun hand after luncheon, and
had to stop shooting at Croxton corner. As
I went back to Slumberleigh, across the
fields below the Rectory, I thought I saw
you in the distance, and followed you."

" Is your hand much hurt ? " — with sudden
anxiety.

" No," said Charles, reddening a little.
''It will stop my shooting for a day or two,
but that is all."

The colours were mixed again. Ruth,
contrary to all previous conviction, added
light red to the Italian pink. The sketch
had gone rapidly from bad to worse, but the
light red finished it off. It never, so to
speak, held up its head again ; but I believe

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. lOQ

she has it still somewhere, put away in a
locked drawer in tissue paper, as if it were
very valuable.

" I did not come without a reason," said
Charles, after a long pause, speaking with
difficulty. " It is no good beating about the
bush. I want to speak to you again about
what I told you three weeks ago. Have you
forgotten what that was ? "

Ruth shook her head. S/ie had not for-
gotten. Her hand began to tremble, and he
sat down beside her on the bench, and taking
the brush out of her hand, laid it in its box.

" Ruth," he said gently, " I have not been
very happy during the last three weeks, but
two days ago, when I saw you again, I
thought you did not look as if you had been
very happy either. Am I right ? Are you

happy in your engagement with ? Quite

content ? Quite satisfied ? Still silent. Am
I to have no answer ? "

*' Some questions have no answers," said
Ruth steadily, looking away from him. '' At

no SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

least, the questions that ought not to be
asked have none."

" I will not ask any more, then. Perhaps,
as you say, I have no right. You won't tell
me whether you are unhappy, but your face
tells me so in spite of you. It told me so
two days ago, and I have thought of it every
hour of the day and night since."

She gathered herself together for a final
effort to stop what she knew was coming,
and said desperately —

*' I don't know how it is. I don't mean it,
and yet everything I say to you seems so
harsh and unkind ; but I think it would have
been better not to come here, and I think it
would be better, better for us both, if you
would go away now."

Charles's face became set and very white.
Then he put his fortune to the touch.

'' You are right," he said. " I will go away
— for good ; I will never trouble you again,
when you have told me that you do not
love me."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I I I

The colour rushed Into her face, and then
died slowly away again, even out of the
tightly compressed lips.

There was a long silence, in which he
waited for a reply that did not come. At
last she turned and looked him in the face.
Who has said that light eyes cannot be im-
passioned ? Her deep eyes, dark with the
utter blankness of despair, fell before the
intensity of his. He leant towards her, and
with gentle strength put his arm round her,
and drew her to him. His voice came in
a broken whisper of passionate entreaty close
to her ear.

'* Ruth, I love you, and you love me. We
belonof to each other. We were made for
each other. Life is not possible apart. It
must be together, Ruth, always together,

always " and his voice broke down

entirely.

Surely he was right. A love such as theirs
overrode all petty barriers of every-day right
and wrong, and was a law unto Itself. Surely

I I 2 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

It was vain to struggle against Fate, against
the soft yet mighty current which was sweep-
ing her away beyond all landmarks, beyond
the sight of land itself, out towards an infinite
sea.

And the eyes she loved looked into hers
with an agony of entreaty, and the voice she
loved spoke of love, spoke brokenly of un-
worthiness, and an unhappy past, and of a
brighter future, a future with her.

Her brain reeled. Her reason had gone.
Let her yield now. Surely, if only she could
think, if the power to think had not deserted
her, it was right to yield. The current was
taking her ever swifter whither she knew
not. A moment more and there would be
no going back.

She began to tremble, and wrenching her
hands out of his, pressed them before her
eyes to shut out the sight of the earnest face
so near her own. But she could not shut
out his voice, and Charles's voice could be
very gentle, very urgent.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. II3

But at the eleventh hour another voice
broke In on his, and spoke as one having
authority. Conscience, if accustomed to be
disregarded on common occasions, will rarely
come to the fore with any decision in emer-
gency ; but the weakest do not put him in
a place of command all their lives without
at least one result, that he has got the habit
of speaking up and making himself attended
to in time of need. He spoke now, urgently,
imperatively. Her judgment, her reason
were alike gone for the time, but when she
had paced the solemn aisles of the woods an
hour ago in possession of them, had she then
even thought of doing what she was on the
verge of doing now ? What had happened
during that hour to reverse the steadfast
resolve which she had made then ? What
she had thought right an hour ago remained
right now. What she would have put far
from her as dishonourable then, remained
dishonourable now, though she might be too
insane to see it.

VOL. II. 26

114 'SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

Terror seized her, as of one In a dream
who is conscious of impending danger, and
struggles to awake before it is too late.
She started to her feet, and putting forcibly
aside the hands that would have held her
back, walked unsteadily towards the nearest
pillar, and leaned against it, trembling
violently.

*' Do not tempt me," she said hoarsely.
'' I cannot bear it."

He came and stood beside her.
" I do not tempt you," he said. *' I want
to save you and myself from a great calamity
before It Is too late."

*' It Is too late already."
** No/' said Charles, in a low voice of
intense determination. "It Is not — yet. It
will be soon. It Is still possible to go back.
You are not married to him, and It Is no
longer right that you should marry him. You
must give him up. There is no other
way."

*' Yes," said Ruth with vehemence.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. II5

" There Is another way. You have made
me forget It ; but before you came I saw It
clearly. I can't think It out as I did then ;
but I know It Is there. There Is another
way," and her voice faltered ; '' to do what Is
right, and let everything else go."

Charles saw for the first time, with a
sudden frightful contraction of the heart, that
her will was as strong as his own. He had
staked everything on one desperate appeal to
her feelings ; he had carried the outworks,
and now another adversary — her conscience
— rose up between him and her.

" A marriage without love Is a sin," he
said quietly. " If you had lived In the world
as long as I have, and had seen what marriage
without love means, and what It generally
comes to In the end, you would know that
I am speaking the truth. You have no right
to marry Dare If you care for me. Hesitate,
and It will be too late ! Break off your
engagement now. Do you suppose," with
sudden fire, " that we shall cease to love each

Tl6 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Other, that I shall be able to cease to love
you for the rest of my life because you are
Dare's wife ? What is clone can't be undone.
Our love for each other can't. It is no good
shutting your eyes to that. Look the facts
in the face, and don't deceive yourself into
thinking that the most difficult course is
necessarily the right one."

He turned from her, and sat down on the
bench again, his chin in his hands, his
haggard eyes fastened on her face. He had
said his last word, and she felt that when she
spoke it would be her last word too. Neither
could bear much more.

"All you say sounds right — at first',' she
said, after a long silence, and as she spoke
Charles's hands dropped from his face and
clenched themselves together ; " but I cannot
go by what any one thinks unless I think so
myself as well. I can't take other people's
judgments. When God gave us our own, He
did not mean us to shirk using it. What you
say is right, but there is something which

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 I 7

after a little bit seems more rio^ht — at least,
which seems so to me. I cannot look at the
future. I can only see one thing distinctly,
now in the present, and that is that I cannot
break my word. I never have been able to
see that a woman's word is less binding than
a man's. When I said I would marry him, it
was of my own free will. I knew what I
was doing, and it was not only for his sake
I did it. It is not as if he believed I cared
for him very much. Then, perhaps — but he
knows I don't, and — he is different from
other men — he does not seem to mind. I
knew at the time that I accepted him for the
sake of other things, which are just the same
now as they were then ; because he was poor
and I had money ; because I felt sure he
would never do much by himself, and I
thought I could help him, and my money
would help too ; because the people at
Vandon are so wretched, and their cottages
are tumbling down, and there is no one who
lives among them and cares about them. I

It8 sir CHARLES DANVERS.

can't make it clear, and I did hesitate ; but at
the time it seemed wrong to hesitate. If it
seemed so right then, it cannot be all wrong
now, even if it has become hard. I cannot
give it all up. He is building cottages that
I am to pay for, that I asked to pay for. He
cannot. And he has promised so many
people their houses shall be put in order, and
they all believe him. And he can't do it. If
I don't, it will not be done ; and some of
them are very old — and — and the winter is
comine." Ruth's voice had become almost

o

inaudible. " Oh, Charles ! Charles ! " she
said brokenly. " I cannot bear to hurt you.
God knows I love you. I think I shall
always love you, though I shall try not.
But I cannot go back now from what I have
undertaken. I cannot break my word. I
cannot do what is wrong, even for you. Oh,
God ! not even for you ! "

She knelt down beside him, and took his
clenched hands between her own ; but he did
not stir.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. II9

'' Not even for you," she whispered, while
two hot tears fell upon his hands. In another
moment she had risen swiftly to her feet, and
had left him.

120 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER VII.

Charles sat quite still where Ruth had left
him, looking straight in front of him. He
had not thought for a moment of following
her, of speaking to her again. Her decision
was final, and he knew it. And now he also
knew how much he had built upon the wild
new hope of the last two days.

Presently a slight discreet cough broke
upon his ear, apparently close at hand.

He started up, and wheeling round in the
direction of the sound, called out in sudden
anger, " Who is there ? "

If there is a time when we feel that a
fellow-creature is entirely out of harmony
with ourselves, it is when we discover that he
has overheard or overseen us at a moment

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 121

when we imamned we were alone, or — almost
alone.

Charles was furious.

" Come out ! " he said in a tone that would
have made any ordinary creature stay as far
in as it could. And hearing a slight crackling
in the nearest horse-box, of which the door
stood open, he shook the door violently.

''Come out," he repeated, "this instant!"

" Stop that noise, then," said a voice
sharply from the inside, " and keep quiet.

By , a violent temper, what a thing it

is ; always raising a dust, and kicking up a
row, just when it's least wanted."

The voice made Charles start.

" Great God ! " he said, " it's not ? "

"Yes, it is," was the reply; "and when
you have taken a seat on the further end of
that bench, and recovered your temper, I'll
show, but not before."

Charles walked to the bench and sat
down.

" You can come out," he said in a carefully

122 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

lowered voice, in which there was contempt
as well as anger.

Accordingly there was a little more
crackling among the faggots, and a slight,
shabbily dressed man came to the door, and
peered warily out, shading his blinking eyes
with his hand.

" If there is a thinof I hate," he said with
a curious mixture of recklessness and anxiety,
'' it is a noise. Sit so that you face the left,
will you, and I'll look after the right, and if
you see any one coming you may as well
mention it. I am only at home to old
friends."

He took his hand from his eyes as they
became more accustomed to the light, and
showed a shrewd, dissipated face, that yet
had a kind of ruined good look about it,
and, what was more hateful to Charles than
anything else, a decided resemblance to Ruth.
Though he was shabby in the extreme, his
clothes sat upon him as they always and only
do sit upon a gentleman ; and though his face

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I 23

and voice showed that he had severed him-
self effectually from the class in which he had
been born, a certain unsuitability remained
between his appearance and his evidently
disreputable circumstances. When Charles
looked at him he was somehow reminded of

a broken-down thorouorhbred in a hansom

<_>

cab.

" It is a quiet spot," remarked Raymond
Deyncourt, for he it was, standing in the
doorway, his watchful eyes scanning the de-
serted courtyard and strip of green. " A
retired and a peaceful spot. I'm sorry if my
cough annoyed you, coming when it did, but
I thought you seemed before to be engaged
in conversation, which I felt a certain diffi-
dence in interrupting."

'' So you listened, I suppose ? "

" Yes, I listened. I did not hear as much
as I could have wished, but it was your best
manner, Danvers. You certainly have a
gift, though you dropped your voice unneces-
sarily once or twice, I thought. If I had had

124 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

your talents I should not be here now. Eh ?
Dear me ! you can swear still, can you ?
How refreshing. I fancied you had quite
reformed."

" Why are you here now ? " asked Charles
sternly.

Raymond shrugged his shoulders.

" Why are you here ? " continued Charles
bitterly, "when you swore to me in July that
if I would pay your passage out again to
America you would let her alone in future ?
Why are you here, when I wrote to tell you
that she had promised me she would never
give you money again without advice ? But
I might have known you could break a
promise as easily as make one. I might
have known you would only keep it as long
as it suited yourself."

''Well, now, I'm glad to hear you say
that," said Raymond airily, " because it takes
off any feeling of surprise I was afraid you
might feel at seeing me back here. There's
nothincr like a orood understanding: between

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 25

friends. I'm precious hard up, I can tell
you, or I should not have come ; and when
a fellow has got into as tight a place as I
have, he has got to think of other things
besides keeping promises. Have you seen
to-day s papers ? " — with sudden eagerness.

'' Yes."

'' Any news about the Frisco forgery
case ? " and Raymond leaned forward through
the door, and spoke in a whisper.

" Nothing much," said Charles, trying to
recollect. " Nothing new to-day, I think.
You know they got one of them two days
ago, followed him down to Birmingham, and
took him in the train."

Raymond drew in his breath.

" I don't hold with trains," he said after a
pause ; '' at least, not with passengers. I
told him as much at the time. And the —
the other one — Stephens ? Any news of
him ? "

** Nothing more about him, as far as I can
remember. They were both traced together

126 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

from Boston to London, but there they parted
company. Stephens is at large still."

" Is he ? " said Raymond. " By George,
Fm glad to hear it. I hope he'll keep so,
that's all. I'm glad I left that fool. He'd
not my notions at all. We split two days
ago, and I made tracks for the old diggings ;
got down as far as Tarbury under a tarpaulin
in a goods train — there's some sense in a
goods train — and then lay close by a weir of
the canal, and got aboard a barge after dark.
Nothing breaks a scent like a barge. And
it went the right way for my business too,
and travelled all night. I kept close all next
day, and then struck across country for this
place at night. If I hadn't known the lie of
the land from a boy, when I used to spend
the holidays with old Alwynn, I couldn't
have done it, or if I'd been as doo: lame as I
was in July ; but I was pushed for a time,
and I footed it up here, and got in just before
dawn. And not too soon either, for I'm
cleaned out, and food is precious hard to

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 12/

come by if you don't care to go shopping for
it. I am only waiting till it's dark to go and
eet somethinof from the old woman at the
lodge. She looked after me before, but it
wasn't so serious then as it is now."

'' It will be penal servitude for life this
time for — Stephens," said Charles.

'* Yes," said Raymond thoughtfully. " It's
playing deuced high. I knew that at the time,
but I thought it was worth it. It was a
beautiful thiuQ^, and there was a mint of
money in it, if it had gone straight — a mint
of money ; " and he shook his head regret-
fully. '' But the luck is bound to change in
the end," he went on, after a moment of
mournful retrospection. " You'll see, I shall
make my pile yet, Danvers. One can't go
on turning up tails all the time."

" You will turn them up once too often,"
said Charles, '' and get your affairs wound up
for you some day in a way you won't like.
But I suppose it's no earthly use my saying
anything."

128 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

'' Not much," replied the other. '' I guess
I've heard it all before. Don't you remember
how you held forth that night in the wood ?
You came out strong. I felt as if I were in
church ; but you forked out handsomely at
the collection afterwards. I will say that for
you."

'' And what are you going to do now you've
got here ? " interrupted Charles sharply.

" Lie by."

" How long ? "

'' Perhaps a week, perhaps ten days. Can't

'J
say.

''And after that?"

'' After that, some one, I don't say who,
but some one will have to provide me with
the ' ready ' to nip across to France. I have
friends in Paris where I can manage to
scratch along for a bit till things have blown
over."

Charles considered for a few moments, and
then said —

'' Are you going to dun your sister for

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I 29

money again, or give her another fright by
lying in wait for her ? Of course, if you
broke your word about coming back, you
might break it about trying to get money out
of her."

" I might," assented Raymond ; " in fact, I
was on the point of making my presence
known to her, and suggesting a pecuniary
advance, when you came up. I don't know
at present what I shall do, as I let that
opportunity slip. It just depends."

Charles considered again.

" It's a pity to trouble her, isn't it ? " said
Raymond, his shrewd eyes watching him,
" and women are best out of money matters.
Besides, if she has promised you she won't
pay up without advice she'll stick to it.
Nothino^ will turn her when she once settles
on anything, if she is at all like what she
used to be. She has grot dollars of her own.
You had better settle with me, and pay your-
self back when you are married. Dear me !
There's no occasion to look so murderous.

VOL. n. 27

130 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

I suppose I'm at liberty to draw my own
conclusions."

" You had better draw them a little more
carefully in future," said Charles savagely.
" Your sister is engaged to be married to a
man without a sixpence."

** By George," said Raymond, '' that won't
suit my book at all. I'd rather" — with
another glance at Charles — '' I'd rather she'd
marry a man with money."

If Charles was of the same opinion he did
not express it. He remained silent for a
few minutes, to give weight to his last
remark, and then said slowly —

'' So you see you won't get anything more
from that quarter. You had better make the
most you can out of me."

Raymond nodded.

" The most you will get, in fact, I may say
all you will get from me, is enough ready
money to carry you to Paris, and a cheque
for twenty pounds to follow, when I hear you
have arrived there."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I3I

" It's mean," said Raymond ; " it's cursed
mean ; and from a man like you too, whom I
feel for as a brother. I'd rather try my luck
with Ruth. She's not married yet, anyway."

" You will do as you like," said Charles,
getting up. '' If I find you have been trying
your luck with her, as you call it, you won't
get a farthing from me afterwards. And
you may remember, she can't help you without
consulting her friends. And your complaint
is one that requires absolute quiet, or I'm
very much mistaken."

Raymond bit his finger, and looked irre-
solute.

'' To-day is Wednesday," said Charles ;
" on Saturday I shall come back here in the
afternoon, and if you have come to my terms
by that time you can cough after I do. I
shall have the money on me. If you make
any attempt to write or speak to your sister,
I shall take care to hear of it, and you need
not expect me on Saturday. That is the
last remark I have to make, so good after-

132 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

noon ; " and, without waiting for a reply,
Charles walked away, conscious that Ray-
mond would not dare either to call or run
after him.

He walked slowly along the grass-grown
road that led into the carriage-drive, and was
about to let himself out of the grounds by a
crazy gate, which rather took away from the
usefulness of the larofe iron locked ones at
the lodge, when he perceived an old man
with a pail of water fumbling at it. He did
not turn as Charles drew near, and even
when the latter came up with him, and said
'' Good afternoon," he made no sign. Charles
watched him groping for the hasp, and, when
he had got the gate open, feel about for the
pail of water, which when he found he struck
against the gate post as he carried it through.
Charles looked after the old man as he
shambled off in the direction of the lodge.

''Blind and deaf! He'll tell no tales, at
any rate," he said to himself '' Raymond is
in luck there."

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. T33

It had turned very cold ; and, suddenly
remembering that his absence might be
noticed, he set off through the woods to
Slumberleigh at a good pace. His nearest
way took him through the churchyard and
across the adjoining high-road, on the further
side of which stood the little red-faced
lodge, which belonged to the great new
red-faced seat of the Thursbys at a short
distance. He came rapidly round the corner
of the old church tower, and was already
swinging down the worn sandstone steps
which led into the road, when he saw below
him at the foot of the steps a little group of
people standing talking. It was Mr. Alwynn,
and Ruth, and Dare, who had evidently met
them on his return from shooting, and who,
standing at ease witli one elegantly gaitered
leg on the lowest step, and a cartridge-bag
slung over his shoulder in a way that had
aroused Charles's indignation earlier in the
day, was recounting to them, with vivid
action of the hands on an imaginary gun, his

134 SIR CHARLES UANVERS.

own performances to right and left at some
particularly hot corner.

Mr. Alwynn was listening with a benignant
smile. Charles saw that Ruth was leaning
heavily against the low stone wall. Before
he had time to turn back, Mr. Alwynn had
seen him, and had gone forward a step to
meet him, holding out a welcoming hand.
Charles was obliged to stop a moment while
his hand was inquired after, and a new treat-
ment, which Mr. Alwynn had found useful
on a similar occasion, was enjoined upon
him. As they stood together on the church
steps, a fly, heavily laden with luggage, came
slowly up the road towards them.

"What," said Mr. Alwynn, '' more visitors !
I thought all the Slumberleigh party arrived
yesterday."

The fly plodded past the Slumberleigh
lodge however, and as it reached the steps
a shrill voice suddenly called to the driver
to stop. As it came grinding to a standstill,
the glass was hastily put down, and a little

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. I 35

woman with a very bold pair of black eyes,
and a somewhat laced-in figure, got out and
came towards them.

"Well, Mr. Dare!" she said, in a high
distinct voice, with a strong American accent.
'' I guess you did not expect to see me riding
up this way, or you'd have sent the carriage
to bring your wife up from the station. But
I'm not one to bear malice ; so if you want
a lift home to — what's the name of your fine
new place '^. — you can get in, and ride up
alone with me."

Dare looked straight in front of him. No
one spoke. Her quick eye glanced from one
to another of the little group, and she gave a
short constrained laugh.

'' Well," she said, '' if you ain't coming,
you can stop with your friends. I've had a
deal of travelling one way and another, and
I'll go on without you." And, turning
quickly away, she told the driver in the same
distinct high key to go on to Vandon, and
got into the fly again.

136 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The grinning man chucked at the horse's
bridle, and the fly rattled heavily away.

No one spoke as it drove away. Charles
glanced once at Ruth ; but her set white face
told him nothing. As the fly disappeared up
the road, Dare moved a step forward. His
face under his brown skin was ashen grey.
He took off his cap, and extending it at arm's
length, not towards the sky, but, like a good
churchman, towards the church, outside of
which, as he knew, his Maker was not to be
found, he said solemnly —

" I swear before God what she says is one
■ — great — lie!'

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 1 37

CHAPTER YIII.

If conformity to type Is indeed the one great
mark towards which humanity should press,
]\Irs. Thursby may honestly be said to have
attained to it. Everything she said or did
had been said or done before, or she would
never have thought of saying or doing it.
Her whole life was a feeble imitation of the
imitative lives of others ; in short, it was the
life of the ordinary country gentlewoman,
who lives on her husband's property, and
who, as x^ugustus Hare says, '' has never
looked over the garden wall."

We do not mean to insinuate for a moment
that the utmost energy and culture are not
occasionally to be met with in the female
portion of that interesting mass of our fellow-

138 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

creatures who swell the large volumes of the
'' Landed Gentry." Among their ranks are
those who come boldly forward into the full
glare of public life ; and, conscious of a genius
for enterprise, to which an unmarried con-
dition perhaps affords ampler scope, and
which a local paper is ready to immortalize,
become secretaries of ladies' societies,
patronesses of flower shows, breeders of
choice poultry, or even associates of floral
leagues of the highest political importance.
That such women should and do exist among
us, the conscious salt-cellars of otherwise
flavourless communities, is a fact for which
we cannot be too thankful ; and if Mrs.
Thursby was not one of these aspiring
spirits, with a yearning after "the mystical
better things," which one of the above pursuits
alone can adequately satisfy, it was her
misfortune and not her fault.

It was her nature, as we have said, servilely
to copy others. Her conversation was all
that she could remember of what she had

SIR CHARI^ES DANVERS. 1 39

heard from others, her present dinner party,
as regards food, was a cross between the two
last dinner parties she had been to. The
dessert, however, conspicuous by its absence,
conformed strictly to a type which she had
seen in a London house in June.

Her dinner party gave her complete satis-
faction, which was fortunate, for to the
greater number of the eighteen or twenty
people who had been indiscriminately herded
together to form it, it was (with the exception
of Mrs. Alwynn) a dreary or at best an un-
interesting ordeal ; while to four people
amonor the number, the four who had met
last on the church steps, it was a period of
slow torture, endured with varying degrees
of patience by each, from the two soups in
the beginning to the peaches and grapes at
the long delayed and bitter end.

Ruth, whose self-possession never wholly
deserted her, had reached a depth of ex-
hausted stupor, in which the mind is perfectly
oblivious of the impression It Is producing on

140 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Others. By an unceasing effort she listened,
and answered, and smiled at intervals, and
looked exceedingly distinguished in the pale
red gown which she had put on to please her
aunt ; but the colour of which only intensified
the unnatural pallor of her complexion. The
two men whom she sat between found her a
disappointing companion, cold and formal in
manner. At any other time she would have
been humiliated and astonished to hear her-
self make such cut-and-drled remarks, such
little trite observations. She was sitting oppo-
site Charles, and she vaguely wondered once
or twice, when she saw him making others
laugh, and heard snatches of the flippant
talk which was with him, as she knew now,
a sort of defensive armour, how he could
manage to produce it ; while Charles, half
Avild with a mad surging hope that would
not be kept down by any word of Dare's,
looked across at her as often as he dared,
and wondered, in his turn, at the tranquil
dignity, the quiet ordered smile of the face

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. I41

which a few hours ago he had seen shaken
with emotion.

Her eyes met his for a moment. Were
they the same eyes that but now had met
his, half bh'nd with tears ? He felt still the
touch of those tears upon his hand. He
hastily looked away again, and plunged head-
long into an answer to somethincr Mabel was

o o

saying to him on her favourite subject of
evolution. All well-brought-up young ladies
have a subject nowadays, which makes their
conversation the delis^htful thine it is ; and
Mabel, of course, was not behind the fashion.
" Yes," Ruth heard Charles reply, " I
believe with you we go through many lives,
each being a higher state than the last, and
nearer perfection. So a man passes gradually
through all the various grades of the nobility,
soaring from the lowly honourable upwards
into the duke, and thence by an easy transi-
tion into an angel. Courtesy titles, of course,
present a difficulty to the more thoughtful ;
but, as I am sure you will have found, to be

142 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

thoughtful always Implies difficulty of some
kind."

" It does, Indeed," said Mabel, puzzled but
not a little flattered. '' I sometimes think
one reads too much ; one longs so for deep
books — Korans, and things. I must confess "
— with a sigh — " I can't Interest myself in
the usual young lady's library that other
eirls read."

" Can't you ? " replied Charles. " Now, I
can. I study that department of literature
whenever I have the chance, and I have
generally found that the most Interesting
part of a young lady's library is to be found
in that portion of the bookshelf which lies
between the row^s of books and the wall.
Don't you think so. Lady Carmian ? " (to the
lady on his other side). " I assure you I
have made the most delightful discoveries of
this description. Cheap editions of Oulda,
Balzac's works, yellow backs of the most
advanced order, will, as a rule, reward the
Inquirer, who otherwise might have had to

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 1 43

content himself with " The Heir of Red-
diffe," the Lily Series, and Miss Strickland's
' Oueens of Eno^land.' "

Charles's last speech had been made in a
momentary silence, and directly it was finished
every woman, old and young, except Lady
Carmian and Ruth, simultaneously raised a
disclaiming voice, which by its vehemence at
once showed what an unfounded assertion
Charles had made. Lady Carmian, a hand-
some young married woman, only smiled
languidly, and, turning the bracelet on her
arm, told Charles he w^as a cynic, and that
for her own part, when in robust health, she
liked what little she read '' strong ; " but in
illness, or when Lord Carmian had been
unusually trying, she always fell back on a
milk-and-water diet. Mrs. Thursby, how-
ever, felt that Charles had struck a blow at
the sanctity of home life, and (for she was
one of those persons whose single talent is
that of giving a personal turn to any remark)
beean a lone monotonous recital of the books

144 ^I^^ CHARLES DANVERS.

she allowed her own daughters to read, and
how they Avere kept, which proved the
extensive range of her library, not in book-
shelves, but in a sliding bookstand, which
contracted or expanded at will.

Lone before she had finished, however,
the conversation at the other end of the table
had drifted away to the topic of the season
among sporting men, namely, the poachers,
who, since their raid on Dare's property, had
kept fairly quiet, but who were sure to start
afresh now that the pheasant shooting had
beofun ; and from thence to the recent
forgery case in America, which was exciting
every day greater attention in England,
especially since one of the accomplices had
been arrested the day before in Birmingham
station, and the principal offender, though
still at large, was, according to the papers,
being traced " by means of a clue in the
possession of the police."

Charles knew how little that sentence
meant, but he found that it required an effort

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 45

to listen unmoved to the various conjectures
as to the whereabouts of Stephens, in which
Ruth, as the conversation became general,
also joined, volunteering a suggestion that
perhaps he might be lurking somewhere in
the Slumberleigh woods, which were certainly
very lonely in places, and Avhere, as she said,
she had been very much alarmed by a tramp
in the summer.

Mrs. Thursby, like an echo, began from
the other end of the table somethino- vao^ue
about girls being allowed to walk alone, her
own daughters, etc., and so the long dinner
wore itself out. Dare was the only one of
the little party who had met on the church
steps who succumbed entirely. Mr. Alwynn,
who looked at him and Ruth with pathetic
interest from time to time, made laudable
efforts, but Dare made none. He had taken
in to dinner the younger Thursby girl, a
meek creature, without form and void, not
yet out, but trembling in a high muslin, on
the verge, who kept her large and burning

VOL. II. 28

146 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

hands clutched together under the table-
cloth, and whose conversation was upon bees.
Dare pleaded a gun headache, and hardly
spoke. His eyes constantly wandered to
the other end of the table, where, far away
on the opposite side, half hidden by ferns
and flowers, he could catch a glimpse of
Ruth. After dinner he did not come Into
the drawing-room, but went off to the
smoking-room, where he paced by himself,
up and down, up and down, writhing under
the torment of a horrible suspense.

Outside the moon shone clear and high,
making a long picturesque shadow of the
great prosaic house, upon the wide gravel
drive. Dare leaned against the window sill
and looked out. "Would she give him up?"
he asked himself. Would she believe this
vile calumny ? Would she give him up ?
And as he stood the Alwynns' brougham
came with two gleaming eyes along the drive
and drew up before the door. He resolved
to learn his fate at once. There had been

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 1 47

no possibility of a word with Ruth on the
church steps. Before he had known where
he was, he and Charles had been walking up
to the Hall together, Charles discoursing
lengthily on the impropriety of wire fencing
in a hunting country. But now he must and
would see her. He rushed downstairs into
the hall, where young Thursby was wrapping
Ruth in her white furs, while Mr. Thursby
senior was encasing jNIrs. Alwynn in a species
of glorified ulster of red plush which she had
lately acquired. Dare hastily drew Mr.
Alwynn aside and spoke a few words to him.
]\Ir. Alwynn turned • to his wife, after one
rueful glance at his thin shoes, and said —

'' I will walk up. It is a fine night, and
quite dry under foot."

" And a very pleasant party it has been,"
said ]\Irs. Alwynn as she and Ruth drove
away together, "though Mrs. Thursby has
not such a knack with her table as some.
Not that I did not think the chrysanthenums
and white china swans were nice, very nice;

I4S SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

but, you see, as I told her, I had just been
to Stoke Moreton, where things were very
different. And you looked very well, my
dear, though not so bright and chatty as
Mabel ; and Mrs. Thursby said she only
hoped your waist was natural. The idea !
And I saw Lady Carmian notice your gown
particularly, and I heard her ask who you
were, and Mrs. Thursby said— so like her —
you were their clergyman's niece. And so,
my dear, I was not going to have you spoken
of like that, and a little later on I just went
and sat down by Lady Carmian, just went
across the room you know, as if I wanted to
be nearer the music, and we got talking, and
she was rather silent at first, but presently,
when I began to tell her all about you, and
who you were, she became quite interested,
and asked such funny questions, and laughed,
and we had quite a nice talk."

And so Mrs. Alwynn chatted on, and
Ruth, happily hearing nothing, leaned back
in her corner, and wondered whether the

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 49

evening were ever going to end. Even when
she had bidden her aunt " Good night," and
having previously told her maid not to sit up
for her, found herself alone in her own room
at last, even then it seemed that this inter-
minable day was not quite over. She was
standing by the dim hre, trying to gather up
sufficient energy to undress, when a quiet
step came cautiously along the passage,
followed by a low tap at her door. She
opened it noiselessly, and found Mr. Alwynn
standing without.

'' Ruth," he said, " Dare has walked up
with me. He is in the most dreadful state.
I am sure I don't know what to think. He
has said nothing further to me, but he is
bent on seeing you for a moment. It's very
late, but still — could you ? He's in the
drawing-room now. My poor child, how ill
you look ! Shall I tell him you are too tired
to-night to see any one ? "

" I would rather see him," said Ruth, her
voice trembling a little, and they went down-

150 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Stairs toeether. In the hall she hesitated
a moment. She was going to learn her fate.
Had her release come ? Had It come at the
eleventh hour ? Her uncle looked at her
with kind compassionate eyes, and hers fell
before his as she thought how different her-
suspense was to what he imagined. Sud-
denly, and such demonstrations w^ere very
rare with her, she put her arms round his
neck, and pressed her cheek against his.

''Oh, Uncle John, Uncle John!" she gasped,
'' it Is not what you think."

'' I pray God it may not be what I sup-
pose," he said sadly, stroking her head.
*' One is too ready to think evil, I know.
God forgive me If I have judged him harshly.
But go in, my dear ; " and he pushed her
gently towards the drawing-room.

She went in and closed the door quietly
behind her.

Dare was leaning against the mantelpiece,
which was draped in Mrs. Alwynn's best
manner, with oriental hangings having bits

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 15!

of oflass woven In them. He was lookino-
into the curtained fire, and did not turn when
she entered. Even at that moment she
noticed, as she went towards him, that his
elbow had displaced the little family of china
hares on a plush stand, which Mrs. Alwynn
had lately added to her other treasures.

" I think you wished to see me," she said
as calmly as she could.

He faced suddenly round, his eyes wild,
his face quivering, and, coming close up to
her, caught her hand, and grasped it so
tightly that the pain was almost more than
she could bear.

'' Are you going to give me up ? " he asked
hoarsely.

'' I don't know," she said ; " it depends on
yourself, on what you are, and what you
have been. You say she is not your wife ? "

*' I swear it."

" You need not do so. Your word is
enough."

'' I swear she is not my wife."

152 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

" One question remains," said Ruth firmly,
a flame of colour mounting to her neck and
face. '' You say she Is not your wife.
Ought you to make her so ? "

'' No," said Dare passionately. " I owe
her nothing. She has no claim upon me. I
swear "

'' Don't swear. I said your word w^as
enough."

But Dare preferred to embellish his speech
with divers weighty expressions, feeling that
a simple affirmation would never carry so
much conviction to his own mind, or con-
sequently to another, as an oath.

A momentary silence followed.

*' You believe what I say, Ruth ? "

'' Yes," with an effort.

"And you won't give me up because evil
is spoken against me ? "

" No."

'' And all is the same as before between
us ? "

'^ Yes."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I53

Dare burst Into a torrent of gratitude, but
she broke suddenly away from him, and went
swiftly upstairs again to her own room.

The release had not come. She laid her
head down upon the table, and Hope, which
had ventured back to her for one moment,
took his lamp and went quite away, leaving
the world very dark.

There are turning points In life when a
natural Instinct Is a surer guide than noble
motive or high aspiration, and consequently
the more thoughtful and Introspective nature
will sometimes fall just where a commonplace
one would have passed In safety. Ruth had
acted for the best. When for the first time
In her life she had been brouo^ht Into close
contact with a life spent for others. Its beauty
had appealed to her with Irresistible force,
and she had willingly sacrificed herself to an
ideal life of devotion to others.

" But we are punished for our purest deeds,
And chasten'd for our holiest thoughts."

And she saw now that If she had obeyed

154 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

that simple law of human nature which forbids
a marriage in which love is not the primary
consideration, if she had followed that simple
humble path, she would never have reached
the arid wilderness towards which her own
guidance had led her.

For her wilful self-sacrifice had suddenly
paled and dwindled down before her eyes
into a hideous mistake — a mistake which yet
had its roots so firmly knit into the past, that
it was hopeless to think of pulling it up now.
To abide by a mistake is sometimes all that
an impetuous youth leaves an honourable
middle age to do. Poor middle age, with its
clear vision, that might do and be so much if
it were not for the heavy burdens, grievous
to be borne, which youth has bound upon its
shoulders.

And worse than the dreary weight of per-
sonal unhappiness, harder to bear than the
pang of disappointed love, was the aching
sense of failure, of having misunderstood
God's intention, and broken the purpose of

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 55

her life. For some natures the cup of Hfe
holds no bitterer drop than this.

Ruth dimly saw the future, the future
which she had chosen, stretching out waste
and barren before her. The dry air of the
desert was on her face. Her feet were
already on its sandy verge. And the iron of
a great despair entered into her soul.

156 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER IX.

Dare left Slumberleigh Hall early the follow-
ing morning, and drove up to the Rectory on
his way to Vandon. After being closeted
with Mr. Alwynn in the study for a short
time, they both came out and drove away
together. Ruth, Invisible In her own room
with a headache, her only means of defence
against Mrs. Alwynn's society, heard the
coming and the going, and was not far
wrong in her surmise that Dare had come to
beg Mr. Alwynn to accompany him to
Vandon, being afraid to face alone the
mysterious enemy intrenched there.

No conversation was possible in the dog-
cart, with the groom on the back seat thirst-
ing to hear any particulars of the news which

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. I 57

had spread like wildfire from Abandon through-
out the whole village the previous afternoon,
and which was already miraculously flying
from house to house in Slumberleigh this
morning, as things discreditable do fly among
a Christian population, which perhaps '' thinks
no evil," but repeats it nevertheless.

There was not a servant In Dare's modest
establishment who was not on the look out
for him on his return. The gardener hap-
pened to be tying up a plant near the front
door; the housemaids were watching un-
observed from an upper casement ; the portly
form of Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, was
seen to elide from one of the unused bed-
room windows ; the butler must have been
waiting in the hall, so prompt was his ap-
pearance when the dog-cart drew up before
the door.

Another pair of keen black eyes was
watching too, peering out through the chinks
between the lowered Venetian blinds in the
drawing-room ; was observing Dare intently

158 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

as he got out, and then resting anxiously on
his companion. Then the owner of the eyes
sHpped away from the window, and went
back noiselessly to the fire.

Dare ordered the dog-cart to remain at
the door, flung down his hat on the hall
table, and, turning to the servant who was
busying himself in folding his coat, said
sharply —

'' Where is the — the person who arrived
here yesterday ? "

The man replied that '' she " was in the
drawing-room. The drawing-room opened
into the hall. Dare led the way, suppressed
fury in his face, looking back to see whether
Mr. Alwynn was following him. The two
men went In together, and shut the door.

The enemy was Intrenched and prepared
for action.

Mrs. Dare, as we must perforce call her
for lack of any other designation rather
than for any right of hers to the title, was
seated on a yellow brocade ottoman, drawn

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 59

Up beside a roaring fire, her two smart little
feet resting on the edge of the low brass
fender, and a small work-table at her side,
on which an elaborate medley of silks and
Avools was displayed. Her attitude was that
of a person at home, aggressively at home.
She was in the act of threading a needle
Avhen Dare and Mr. Alwynn came in, and
she put down her work at once, carefully
replacing the needle in safety, as she rose to
receive them, and held out her hand, with a
manner the assurance of which, if both men
had not been too much frightened to notice
it, was a little overdone.

Dare disregarded her gesture of welcome,
and she sat down again, and returned to her
w^ork, with a laugh that was also a little over-
done.

'' What do you mean by coming here ? "
he said, his voice hoarse with a furious anger,
which the sight of her seemed to have
increased a hundredfold.

" Because it is my proper place," she

l6o SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

replied, tossing her head, and drawing out a
long thread of green silk ; '' because I have
a right to come."

'' You He ! " said Dare fiercely, showing
his teeth.

" Lord, Alfred ! " said Mrs. Dare con-
temptuously, '' don't make a scene before
strangers. We've had our tiffs before now,
and shall have again, I suppose. It's the
natur' of married people to fall out ; but
there's no call to carry on before friends.
Push up that lounge nearer the fire. Won't
the other gentleman," turning to Mr. Alwynn,
*'come and warm himself? I'm sure it's cold
enough."

Mr. Alwynn, who was a man of peace,
devoutly wished he were at home again In
his own study.

" It is a cold morning," he said; ''but we
are not here to discuss the weather."

He stopped short. He had been hurried
here so much against his will, and so entirely
without an explanation, that he was not quite

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. l6l

sure what he had come to discuss, or how he
could best support his friend.

''What do you want?" said Dare, in the
same suppressed voice, without looking at
her.

"My rights," she said incisively; "and,
what's more, I mean to have 'em. I've not
come over from America for nothing, I can
tell you that ; and I've not come on a visit
neither. I've come to stay."

" What are these rights you talk of ? "
asked Mr. Alwynn, signing to Dare to
restrain himself.

" As his wife, sir. I am his wife, as I can
prove. I didn't come without my lines to
show. I didn't come on a speculation, to see
if he'd a fancy to have me back. No, afore
I set my foot down anywheres I look to see
as it's solid walkinof."

" Show your proof," said Mr. Alwynn.

The woman ostentatiously got out a red
morocco letter case, and produced a paper
which she handed to Mr. Alwynn.

VOL, II. 29

102 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

It was an authorized copy of a marriage
register, drawn out in the usual manner,
between Alfred Dare, bachelor, English
subject, and Ellen, widow of the late Jaspar
Carroll, of Neosho City, Kansas, U.S.A.
The marriage was dated seven years back.

The names of Dare and Carroll swam
before Mr. Alwynn's eyes. He glanced at
the paper, but he could not read it.

''Is this a forgery, Dare ? " he asked,
holdlnof it towards him.

'' No," said Dare, without looking at it ;
*'it is right. But that is not all. Now,"
turning to the woman, who was watching him
triumphantly, " show the other paper — the
divorce."

" I made inquiries about that," she replied
composedly. " I wasn't going to be fooled
by that 'ere, so I made inquiries from one as
knows. The divorce is all very well in
America; but it don't count in England."

Dare's face turned livid. Mr. Alwynn's
flushed a deep red. He sat with his eyes on

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 6

J

the ground, the paper in his hand trembling
a Httle. Indignation against Dare, pity for
him, anxiety not to judge him harshly,
struggled for precedence in his kind heart,
still beating tumultuously with the shock of
Dare's first admission. He felt rather than
saw him take the paper out of his hand.

" I shall keep this," Dare said, putting it
in his pocket-book ; and then, turning to the
woman again, he said, with an oath, "Will
you go, or will you wait till you are turned
out ? "

" I'll wait," she replied undauntedly. " I
like the place well enough."

She laughed and took up her work, and
after looking at her for a moment, he flung
out of the room, followed by Mr. Alwynn.
The defeat was complete ; nay, it was a
rout.

The dog-cart was still standing at the
door. The butler was talking to the groom ;
the gardener was training some new shoots
of ivy against the stone balustrade.

164 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Dare caught up his hat and gloves, and
ordered that his portmanteau, which had been
taken into the hall, should be put back into
the doof-cart. As it was being- carried down
he looked at his watch.

" I can catch the midday express for
London," he said. '' I can do it easily."

Mr. Alwynn made no reply.

" Get in," continued Dare feverishly ; " the
portmanteau is in."

" I think I will walk home," said Mr.
Alwynn slowly. It gave him excruciating
pain to say anything so severe as this ; but
he o^ot out the words nevertheless.

Dare looked at him in astonishment.

''Get in," he said again quickly. " I must
speak to you. I will drive you home. I
have something to say."

Mr. Alwynn never refused to hear what
any one had to say. He went slowly down
the steps, and got into the cart, looking
straight in front of him, as his custom was
when disturbed in mind. Dare followed.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 65

" I shall not want you, James," he said to
the groom, his foot on the step.

At this moment the form of Mrs. Smith,
the housekeeper, appeared through the hall
door, clothed in all the awful majesty of an
upper servant whose dignity has been
outraged.

" Sir," she said, in a clear not to say a
high voice, " asking your pardon, sir, but am
I, or am I not, to take my orders from "

Goaded to frenzy. Dare poured forth a
volley of horrible oaths, French and English,
and seizing up the reins drove off at a furious
rate.

The servants remained standing about the
steps, watching the dog-cart whirl rapidly
away.

" He's been to church with her," said the
ofardener at last. " I said all alons^ she'd
never have come, unless she had her lines to
show. I han't cut them white grapes she
ordered yet ; but I may as well go and do it."

*'Well," said Mrs. Smith, "grapes or no

1 66 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

grapes, I'll never give up the keys of the
linen cupboards to the likes of her, and I'm
not going to have any one poking about
among my china. I've not been here twenty
years to be asked for my lists in that way, and
the winter curtains ordered out unbeknownst
to me ; " and Mrs. Smith retreated to the fast-
nesses of the housekeeper's room, whither
even the audacious enemy had not yet
ventured to follow her.

Meanwhile, Mr. Alwynn and Dare drove at
moderated speed along the road to Slumber-
leigh. For some time neither spoke.

*' I beg your pardon," said Dare at last.
'' I lost my head. I became enraged. Before
a clergyman and a lady, I know well, it is not
permitted to swear."

'' I can overlook that," said Mr. Alwynn ;
" but," turning very red again, '' other things
I can't."

Dare began to flourish his whip, and
become excited again.

'* I will tell you all," he said with effusion

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 6/

— ''every word. You have a kind heart. I
will confide in you."

" I don't want confidences," said Mr.
Alwynn. " I want straightforward answers
to a few simple questions."

" I will give them, these answers. I keep
nothing back from a friend."

*' Then, first. Did you marry that
woman ? "

'' Yes," said Dare, shrugging his shoulders.
^' I married her, and often afterwards, almost
at once, I regretted it ; but ^ue voulez-vouSy
I was young. I had no experience. I was
but twenty-one."

Mr. Alwynn stared at him in astonishment
at the ease with which [^the admission was
made.

"How long afterwards was it that you
were divorced from her ? "

" Two years. Two long years."

" For what reason ? "

" Temper. Ah ! what a temper. Also
because I left her for one year. It was in

1 68 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Kansas, and In Kansas it is very easy to
marry, and also to be divorced."

*' It is a disgraceful story," said Mr. Alwynn
in great indignation.

"Disgraceful!" echoed Dare excitedly.
"It is more than disgraceful. It Is abominable.
You do not know all yet. I will tell you. I
was young ; I was but a boy. I go to
America when I am twenty-one, to travel, to
see the world. I make acquaintances. I
get into a bad set, what you call undesirable.
I fall in love. I walk into a net. She was
pretty, a pretty widow, all love, all soul ;
without friends. I protect her. I marry
her. I have a little money. I have five
thousand pounds. She knew that. She
spent it. I was a fool. In a year it was
gone." Dare's face had become white with
rage. " And then she told me why she
married me. I became enraged. There
was a quarrel, and I left her. I had no more
money. She left me alone, and a year after
we are divorced. I never see her or hear of

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 69

her again. I return to Europe. I live by
my voice in Paris. It is five years ago. I
have bought my experience. I put it from
my mind. And now" — his hands trembled
with anger — ''now that she thinks I have
money again, now, when in some way she
hears how I have come to Vandon, she dares
to come back and say she is my wife."

'' Dare," said Mr. Alwynn sternly, " what
excuse have you for never mentioning this
before — before you became engaged to
Ruth?"

*' What ! " burst out Dare, " tell Ruth !
Tell /ie7^/ Quelle idde. I would never
speak to her of what might give her pain. I
would keep all from her that would cause her
one moment's grief. Besides," he added
conclusively, " it is not always well to talk of
what has gone before. It is not for her
happiness or mine. She has been, one sees
it well, brought up since a young child very
strictly. About some things she has fixed
ideas. If I had told her of these things

I/O SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

which are passed away and gone, she might
not" — and Dare looked gravely at Mr.
Alwynn — "she might not think so well of
me."

This view of the case was quite a new one
to Mr. Alwynn. He looked back at Dare
with hopeless perplexity In his pained eyes.
To one who throughout life has regarded the
supremacy of certain truths and principles of
action as fixed and recognized as a matter of
course by all the world, however Imperfectly
obeyed by Individuals, the discovery comes
as a shock, which is at the moment over-
whelming, when these same truths and
principles are seen to be entirely set aside,
and their very existence Ignored by others.

Where there is no common ground on
which to meet, speech is unavailing and mere
waste of time. It Is like shouting to a
person at a distance whom it Is Impossible to
approach. If he notices anything It will only
be that, for some reasons of your own, you
are making a disagreeable noise.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I7I

As Mr. Alwynn looked back at Dare his
anger died away within him, and a dull pain
of deep disappointment and sense of sudden
loneliness took its place. Dare and he seemed
many miles apart. He felt that it would be
of no use to say anything ; and so, being a
man, he held his peace.

Dare continued talking volubly of how he
would get a lawyer's opinion at once In
London ; of his certainty that the American
wife had no claim upon him ; of how he
would go over to America, if necessary, to
establish the validity of his divorce ; but Mr.
Alwynn heard little or nothing of what he
said. He was thinking of Ruth with distress
and self-upbraiding. He had been much to
blame of course.

Dare's m.entlon of her nam.e recalled his
attention.

" She Is all goodness," he was saying. " She
believes In me. She has promised again
that she will marry me — since yesterday. I
trust her as myself ; but it Is a grief which as

172 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

little as possible must trouble her. You will
not say anything to her till I come back, till
I return with proof that I am free, as I told
her ? You will say nothing ? "

Dare had pulled up at the bottom of the
drive to the Rectory.

" Very well," said Mr. Alwynn absently,
getting slowly out. He seemed much shaken.

" I will be back perhaps to-night, perhaps
to-morrow morning," called Dare after him.

But Mr. Alwynn did not answer.

Dare's business took him a shorter time
than he expected, and the same night found
him hurrying back by the last train to
Slumberleio^h. It was a wild nio^ht. He
had watched the evening close in lurid and
stormy across the chimnied wastes of the
black country, until the darkness covered
all the land, and wiped out even the last
memory of the dead day from the western sky.

Who, travelling alone at night, has not
watched the glimmer of light through cottage

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I 73

Windows as he hurries past ; has not followed
with keenest interest for one brief second
the shadow of one who moves within, and,
imagination picturing a mysterious universal
happiness gathered round those twinkling
points of light, has not experienced a strange
feeling of homelessness and loneliness ?

Dare sat very still in the solitude of the
empty railway carriage, and watched the little
fleeting, mocking lights with a heavy heart.
They meant homes, and he should never have
a home now. Once he saw a door open in
a squalid line of low houses, and the figure
of a man with a child in his arms stand out-
lined in the doorway against the ruddy light
within. Dare felt an unreasoning interest in
that man. He found himself thinking of him
as the train hurried on, wondering whether
his wife was there waiting for him, and
whether he had other children besides the
one he was carrying. And all the time,
through his idle musings, he could hear one
sentence ringing in his ears, the last that his

174 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

lawyer had said to him after the long con-
sultation o( the afternoon.

" I am sorry to tell you that you are in-
contestably a married man."

Everything repeated it. The hoofs of the
cab horse that took him to the station had
hammered it out remorselessly all the way.
The engine had caught it up, and repeated
it with unvarying, endless iteration. The
newspapers were full of it. When Dare
turned to them in desperation he saw it
written in large letters across the sham
columns. There was nothing but that any
where. It was the news of the day. Sick
at heart, and giddy from want of food, he
sat crouched up in the corner of his empty
carriage, and vaguely wished the train would
journey on for ever and ever, nervously
dreading the time when he should have to
get out and collect his wandering faculties

to

once more*

The old lawyer had been very kind to the
agitated, incoherent young man whose settle-

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I 75

ments he was already engaged in drawing
up. At first, indeed, it had seemed that the
marriage would not be legally binding — the
marriage and divorce having both taken
place in Kansas, where the marriage laws
are particularly lax — and he seemed inclined
to be hopeful ; but as he informed himself
about the particulars of the divorce, his face
became grave and graver. When at last
Dare produced the copy of the marriage
register, he shook his head.

" * Alfred Dare, bachelor and English
subject,' " he said. " That ' English subject'
makes a difficulty to start with. You had
never, I believe, any intention of acquiring
what in law we call an American domicil ?
and although the technicalities of this subject
are somewhat complicated, I am afraid that
in your case there is little, if any, doubt.
The English courts are very jealous of any
interference by foreigners with the status of
an Englishman ; and though a divorce legally
granted by a competent tribunal for an

176 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

adequate cause might — I will not say would
— be held binding everywhere, there can be
no doubt that where in the eyes of our law
the cause is not adequate, our courts would
refuse to recognize it. Have you a copy of
the register of divorce as well ? "

'' No."

" It is unfortunate ; but no doubt you can
remember the grounds on which it was
granted."

" Incompatibility of temper, and she said
I had deserted her. I had left her the year
before. We both agreed to separate."

The lawyer shook his head.

"What's incompatibility?" he said. "What's
a year's absence ? Nothing in the eyes of an
Englishman. Nothing in the law of this
country."

" But the divorce was granted. It was
legal. There was no question," said Dare
eagerly. " I was divorced In the same
State as where I married. I had lived there
more than a year, which was all that was

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I 77

necessary. No difficulty was made at the
time."

" No. Marriage is slipped into and slipped
out of again with gratifying facility in America,
and Kansas is notorious for the laxity pre-
vailing there as regards marriage and divorce.
It will be advisable to take the opinion of
counsel on the matter, but I can hold out
very little hope that your divorce would hold
good, even in America. You see, you are
entered as a British subject on the marriage
register, and I imagine these words must
have been omitted in the divorce proceed-
ings, or some difficulty would have been
raised at the time, unless your residence in
Kansas made it unnecessary. But even sup-
posing by American law you are free, that
will be of no avail in England, for by the
law of England, which alone concerns you,
I regret to be obliged to tell you that you
are incontestably a married man."

And in spite of frantic reiterations, of wild
protests on the part of Dare, as if the com-

voL. n. 30

178 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

passionate old man represented the English
law, and could mould it at his pleasure, the
lawyer's last word remained in substance the
same, though repeated many times.

" Whether you are at liberty or not to
marry again in America, I am hardly pre-
pared to say. I will look into the subject
and let you know ; but in England I regret
to repeat that you are a married man."

Dare groaned in body and in spirit as the
words came back to him ; and his thoughts,
shrinking from the despair and misery at
home, wandered aimlessly away, anywhere,
hither and thither, afraid to go back, afraid
to face again the desolation that sat so grim
and stern in solitary possession.

The train arrived at Slumberleigh at last,
and he got out, and shivered as the driving
wind swept across the platform. It surprised
him that there was a wind, although at every
station down the line he had seen people
straining against it. He gave up his ticket
mechanically, and walked aimlessly away

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 179

into the darkness, turning with momentary
curiosity to watch the train hurry on again,
a pillar of fire by night, as it had been a
pillar of smoke by day.

He passed the blinking station inn, forget-
ting that he had put up his dog-cart there to
await his return, and hardly knowing what he
did, took from long habit the turn for Vandon.

It was a wild night. The wind was driving
the clouds across the moon at a tremendous
rate, and sweeping at each gust flights of
spectre leaves from the swaying trees. It
caught him in the open of the bare high-road,
and would not let him go. It opposed him,
and buffeted him at every turn ; but he held
listlessly on his way. His feet took him,
and he let them take him whither they would.
They led him stumbling along the dim road,
the dust of which was just visible like a grey
mist before him, until he reached the bridge
by the mill. There his feet stopped of their
own accord, and he went and leaned against
the low stone wall, looking down at the

l8o SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

sudden glimpses of pale hurried water and
trembling reed.

The moon came out full and strong in
temporary victory, and made black shadows
behind the idle mill wheel and open mill race,
and black shadows, black as death, under
the bridofe itself. Dare leaned over the wall
to watch the mysterious water and shadow
run beneath. As he looked, he saw the
reflection of a man in the water watching
him. He shook his fist savagely at it, and
it shook its fist amid a wavering of broken
light and shadow back at him. But it did
not go away ; it remained watching him.
There was something strange and unfamiliar
about the river to-night. It had a voice,
too, which allured and repelled him — a voice
at the sound of which the grim despair within
him stirred ominously at first, and then began
slowly to rise up gaunt and terrible ; began
to move stealthily, but with ever-increasing
swiftness through the deserted chambers of
his heart.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. l8l

No Strong abiding principle was there to
do battle with the enemy. The minor feel-
ings, sensibilities, emotions, amiable impulses,
those courtiers of our prosperous days, had
all forsaken him and fled. Dare's house in
his hour of need was left unto him desolate.

And the river spoke in a guilty whisper,
which yet the quarrel of the wind and the
trees could not drown, of deep places further
down, where people were never found, people

who But there were shallows, too, he

remembered, shallow places among the stones
where the trout were. If anybody were
drowned. Dare thought, gazing down at the
pale shifting moon in the water, he would
be found there, perhaps, or at any rate, his
hat — he took his hat off, and held it tightly
clenched in both his hands — his hat would
tell the tale.

1 82 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER X.

Charles left Slumberleigh Hall a few hours
later than Dare had done, but only to go
back to Atherstone. He could not leave the
neighbourhood. This burning fever of sus-
pense would be unbearable at any other
place, and in any case he must return by
Saturday, the day on which he had promised
to meet Raymond. His hand was really
slightly Injured, and he made the most of it.
He kept it bound up, telegraphed to put off
his next shooting engagement on the strength
of It, and returned to Atherstone, even though
he was aware that Lady Mary had arrived
there the day before, on her way home to
her house in London.

Ralph and Evelyn were accustomed to

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 83

sudden and erratic movements on the part
of Charles, and to Molly he was a sort of
archangel, who might arrive out of space at
any moment, untrammelled by such details
as distance, trains, time, or tide. But to
Lady Mary his arrival was a significant fact,
and his impatient refusal to have his hand
investigated was another. Her cold grey
eyes watched him narrowly, and, conscious
that they did so, he kept out of her way as
much as possible, and devoted himself to
Molly more than ever.

He was sailing a mixed fleet of tin ducks
and fishes across the tank by the tool shed,
under her supervision, on the afternoon of
the day he had arrived, when Ralph came to
find him in great excitement. His keeper
had just received private notice from the
Thursbys' keeper that a raid on the part of
a large gang of poachers was expected that
night In the parts of the Slumberleigh coverts
that had not yet been shot over, and which
adjoined Ralph s own land.

184 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

" Whereabout will that be ? " said Charles
inattentively, drawing his magnet slowly in
front of the fleet.

'' Where ? " said Ralph excitedly, *' why
round by the old house, round by Arleigh,
of course. Thursby and I have turned down
hundreds of pheasants there. Don't you
remember the hot corner by the coppice last
year, below the house, where we got forty
at one place, and how the wind took them
as they came over ? "

'' Nea.r A r/ez£-A f repeated Charles, with
sudden interest.

*' Uncle Charles," interposed Molly re-
proachfully, '' don't let all the ducks stick on
to the magnet like that. I told you not
before. Make It go on in front."

But Charles's attention had wandered from
the ducks.

" Yes," continued Ralph, " near Arlelgh.
There was a gang of poachers there last
year, and the keepers dared not attack
them they were so strong, though they

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 85

were shooting right and left. But we'll
be even with them this year. My men are
going, and I shall go with them. You had
better come too, and see the fun. The more
the better."

** Why should I go ? " said Charles list-
lessly. '' Am I my brother's keeper, or even
his under keeper ? Molly, don't splash your
uncle's wardrobe. Besides, I expect it is a
false alarm or a blind."

" False alarm ! " retorted Ralph. " I tell
you Thursby's head keeper, Shaw — you
know Shaw — saw a man himself only last
night in the Arleigh coverts ; came upon
him suddenly, reconnoitering, of course, for
to-night, and would have collared him too if
the moon had not gone in, and when it came
out again he was gone."

'' Of course, and he will warn off the rest
to-night."

''Not a bit of it. He never saw Shaw.
Shaw takes his oath he didn't see him. I'll
lay any odds they will beat those coverts

l86 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

to-night, and, by George ! we'll nail some of
them, if we have an ounce of luck."

Ralph's sporting instinct, to which even
the fleeting vision of a chance weasel never
appealed in vain, was now thoroughly
aroused, and even Charles shared somewhat
in his excitement.

How could he warn Raymond to lie close ?
The more he thought of it the more im-
possible it seemed. It was already late in
the afternoon. He could not, for Raymond's
sake, risk being seen hanging about in the
woods near Arleigh for no apparent reason,
and Raymond was not expecting to see him
in any case for two days to come, and would
probably be impossible to find. He could
do nothing but wait till the evening came,
when he might have some opportunity, if the
night were only dark enough, of helping or
warning him.

The night was dark enough when it came ;
but it was unreliable. A tearing autumn
wind drove armies of clouds across the moon,

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 87

only to sweep them away again at a moment's
notice. The wind itself rose and fell,
dropped and struggled up again like a furious
wounded animal.

'' It will drop at midnight," said Ralph to
Charles below his breath, as they walked in
the darkness along the road towards Slumber-
leigh ; '' and the moon will come out when
the wind goes. I have told Evans and
Brooks to go by the fields, and meet us at
the cross roads in the low woods. It is a
good night for us. We don't want light yet
awhile ; and the more row the wind kicks up
till we are in our places ready for them the
better."

They walked on in silence, nearly missing
in the dark the turn for Slumberleigh, where
the road branched off to Vandon.

'' We must be close upon the river by this
time," said Ralph ; " but I can't hear it for
the wind."

The moon came out suddenly, and showed
close on their right the mill blocking out the

1 88 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

sky, and the dark sweep of the river below,
between pale wastes of flooded meadow.
Upon the bridge, leaning over the wall, stood
the figure of a man, bareheaded, with his hat
in his hands.

He could not see his face, but something
in his attitude struck Charles with a sudden
chill.

" By ," he said below his breath,

plucking Ralph's arm, " there's mischief going
on there ! "

Ralph did not hear, and in another moment
Charles was thankful he had not done so.

The man raised himself a little, and the
light fell full on his white desperate face.
He was feeling up and down the edge of the
stone parapet with his hands. As he moved,
Charles recognized him, and drew in his
breath sharply.

'' Who is that ? " said Ralph, his obtuser
faculties perceiving the man for the first
time.

Charles made no answer, but began to

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 89

whistle loudly one of the tunes of the day.
He saw Dare give a guilty start, and catch-
ing at the wall for support, lean heavily
against it as he looked wildly down the road,
where the shadow of the trees had so far
served to screen the approach of Charles and
Ralph, who now emerged into the light, or
at least would have done so, if the moonlight
had not been snatched away at that moment.

*' Hullo, Dare ! " said Ralph cheerfully
through the darkness. " I saw you. What
are you up to, standing on the bridge at
midnight, with the clock striking the hour,
and all that sort of thing ; and what have
you done with your hat ? Dropped it into
the water ? "

Dare muttered something unintelligible,
and peered suspiciously through the darkness
at Charles.

The moon made a feint of coming out
again, which came to nothing, but which
gave Charles a moment's glimpse of Dare's
convulsed face. And the grave penetrating

IQO SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

glance that met his own [so fixedly told Dare
in that moment that Charles had guessed his
business on the bridge. Both men were
glad of the returning darkness, and of the
presence of Ralph.

** Come along with us," the latter was saying
to Dare, explaining the errand on which they
were bound ; and Dare, stupefied with past
emotion, and careless of what he did or
where he went, agreed.

It was less trouble to agree than to find a
reason for refusing. He mechanically put
on his hat, which he had unconsciously
crushed together a few minutes before, in a
dreadful dream from which even now he had
not thoroughly awaked. And still walking
like a man in a dream, he set off with the
other two.

" There was suicide in his face," thought
Charles, as he swung along beside his brother.
"He would have done it if we had not come
up. Good God ! can it be that it is all over
between him and Ruth ! " The blood rushed

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. I9I

to his head, and his heart began to beat
wildly. He walked on in silence, seeing
nothing, hearing nothing. Raymond and the
poachers were alike forgotten.

It was not until a couple of men joined
them silently in the woods, and others
presently rose up out of the darkness to
whisper directions and sink down again, that
Charles came to himself with a start, and
pulled himself together.

The party had halted. It was pitch dark,
but he was conscious of something towering
up above him, black and lowering. It was
the ruined house of Arleigh.

" You and Brooks wait here, and keep well
under the lea of the house," said Ralph in a
whisper. " If the moon comes out get into
the shadow of the wall. Don't shout till
you're sure of them. Shaw is down by the
stables. Dare and Evans, you both come on
with me. Shaw's got two men at the end of
the glade, but it's the nearest coverts he is
keenest on, because they can get a horse and

192 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

cart up close to take the game, and get off
sharp if they are surprised. They did last
year. Don't stir if you hear wheels. Wait
for them." And with this parting injunction
Ralph disappeared noiselessly with Dare and
the other keeper in the direction of the
stables.

Ralph had been right. The wind was
dropping. It came and went fitfully, return-
ing as if from great distances, and hurrying
past weak and impotent, leaving sudden
silences behind. Charles and his companion,
a strapping young under keeper, evidently
anxious to distinguish himself, waited, listen-
ing intently in the intervals of silence. The
ivy on the old house shivered and whispered
over their heads, and against one of the
shuttered windows near the ground some
climbing plant, torn loose by the wind, tapped
incessantly, as if calling to the ghosts within.
Charles glanced ever and anon at the sky.
It showed no trace of clearing — as yet. He
was getting cramped with standing. He

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 1 93

wished he had gone on to the stables. His
anxiety for Raymond was sharpened by this
long inaction. He seemed to have been
standing for ages. What were the others
doine ? Not a sound reached him between
the lengthening pauses of the wind. His
companion stood drawn up motionless beside
him ; and so they waited, straining eye and
ear into the darkness, conscious that others
were waiting and listening also.

At last in the distance came a faint sound
of wheels. Charles and Brooks instinctively
drew a long breath ; and Charles for the
first time believed the alarm of poachers
had not been a false one after all. It was
the faintest possible sound of wheels. It
would hardly have been heard at all but
for some newly broken stones over which
it passed. Then, without coming nearer, it
stopped.

Charles listened intently. The wind had
dropped down dead at last, and in the
stillness he felt as if he could have heard a

VOL. II. 31

194 ^11^ CHARLES DAN VERS.

mouse stir miles away. But all was quiet.
There was no sound but the tremulous
whisper of the ivy. The spray near the
window had ceased its tapping against the
shutter, and was listening too. Slowly the
moon came out, and looked on.

And then suddenly, from the direction of
the stables, came a roar of men's voices, a
sound of bursting and crashing through the
underwood, a thundering of heavy feet,
followed by a whirring of frightened birds
into the air. Brooks leaned forward breath-
ing hard, and tightening his newly moistened
grip on his heavy knotted stick.

Another moment and a man's figure darted
across the open, followed by a chorus of
shouts, and Charles's heart turned sick within
him. It was Raymond.

" Cut him off at the gate, Charles," roared
Ralph from behind; ''down to the left."

There was not a second for reflection. As
Brooks rushed headlong forwards, Charles
hurriedly interposed his stick between his.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 95

legs, and, leaving him to flounder, started off
in pursuit.

" Down to your left," cried a chorus
of voices from behind, as he shot out of
the shadow of the house ; for Charles was
some way ahead of the rest owing to his
position.

He could hear Raymond crashing in front,
then he saw him again for a moment in a
strip of open, running as a man does who
runs for his life, with a furious recklessness
of all obstacles. Charles saw he was making
for the rocky thickets below the house, where
the uneven ground and the bracken would
o^Ive him a better chance. Did he remember
the deep sunken wall which, broken down in
places, still separated the wilderness of the
garden from the wilderness outside ? Charles
was lean and active, and he soon out-dis-
tanced the other pursuers, but a man Is hard
to overtake who has such reasons for not
being overtaken as Raymond, and do what
he would he could not get near him. He

196 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

bore down to the left, but Raymond seemed
to know it, and edging away again, held for
the woods a little higher up. Charles tacked,
and then as he ran he saw that Raymond
was making with headlong blindness through
the shrubbery direct for the deep sunk wall
which bounded the Arleigh grounds. Would
he see it in the uncertain light ? He must
be close upon it now. He was running like
a madman. As Charles looked he saw him
pitch suddenly forward out of sight, and heard
a heavy fall. If Charles ever ran in his life
it was then. As he swifdy let himself drop
over the wall, lower than Raymond had
taken it, he saw Ralph and Dare, followed
by the others, come streaming down the slope
in the moonlight, spreading as they came.
It was now or never. He rushed up the
fosse under cover of the wall, and almost
stumbled over a prostrate figure, which was
helplessly trying to raise itself on its hands
and knees.

" Danvers, it's me," gasped Raymond,

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 1 97

turning a white tortured face feebly towards
him. '' Don't let those devils Q-Qt me."

'' Keep still," panted Charles, pushing him
down amone the bracken. '' Lie close under
the wall, and make for the house ao^ain when
its quiet ; " and darting back under cover of
the wall, to the place where he had dropped
over it, he found Dare almost upon him, and
rushed headlong down the steep rocky
descent, roaring at the top of his voice, and
calling wildly to the others. The pursuit
swept away through the wood, down the hill,
and up the sandy ascent on the other side ;
swept almost over the top of Charles, who
had flung himself down, dead-beat and gasp-
ing for breath, at the bottom of the gully.

He heard the last of the heavy lumbering
feet crash past him, and heard the shouting
die away before he stiffly dragged himself
Lip again, and began to struggle painfully
back up the slippery hill-side, down which
he had rushed with a whole regiment of loose
and hopping stones ten minutes before. He

198 SIR CHARLES DANVKRS.

regained the wall at last, and crept back to
the place where he had left Raymond. It
was with a slsfh of relief that he found that
he was eone. No doubt he had orot into
safety somewhere, perhaps in the cottage
itself, where no one would dream of looking
for him. He stumbled along among the
loose stones by the wall till he came to the
place by the gate where it w^as broken down,
and clambering up, for the gate was locked,
made his way back through the shrubberies,
and desolate remains of garden, towards the
point near the house where Raymond had
first broken covert. As he came round a
clump of bushes his heart gave a great leap,
and then sank within him.

Three men were standing in the middle of
the lawn in the moonlight, gathered round
vsomething on the ground. Seized by a
horrible miseivine, he hurried towards them.
At a little distance a dog-cart w^as being
slowly led over the grass-grown drive towards
the house.

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 1 99

" What Is it ? Any one hurt ? " he asked
hoarsely, joining the little group ; but as he
looked he needed no answer. One glance
told him that the prostrate, unconscious
figure on the ground, with blood slowly
oozing from the open mouth, was Raymond
Deyncourt.

" Great God ! the man's dying," he said,
dropping on his knees beside him.

"He's all right, sir; he'll come to," said
a little brisk man in a complacent, peremptory
tone. " It's only the young chap" — pointing
to the bashful but gratified Brooks — "as
crocked him over the head a bit sharper
than needful. Here, Esp" — to the grinning
Slumberleigh policeman, whom Charles now
recognized, " tell the lad to bring up the 'orse
and trap over the grass. We shall have a
business to shift him as It Is."

" Is he a poacher ? " asked Charles. "He
doesn't look like It."

" Lord ! no, sir," replied the little man, and
Charles's heart went straio^ht down Into his

200 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

boots and stayed there. '' Fm come down
from Birmingham after him. He's no
poacher. The poHce have wanted him very
special for some time for the Francisco
forgery case."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 201

CHAPTER XL

Charles watched the detective and the
poHceman hoist Raymond into the dog-cart
and drive away, supporting him between
them. No doubt it had been the wheels of
that dog-cart which they had heard in the
distance. Then he turned to Brooks.

" How is it you remained behind } " he
asked sharply.

Brooks's face fell, and he explained that
just as he was starting in the pursuit he had
caught his legs on " Sir Chawles sir's" stick,
and '' barked hisself."

*' I remember," said Charles. " You got
in my way. You should look out where you
are going. You may as well go and find my
stick."

202 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The poor victim of duplicity departed
rather crestfallen, and at this moment Dare
came up.

" We have lost him," he said, wiping his
forehead. *' I don't know what has become
of him."

'* He doubled back here," said Charles.
*' I followed, but you all went on. The police
have got him. He was not a poacher after
all, so they said."

" Ah ! " said Dare. " They have him ? I
regret it. He ran well. I could wish he
had escaped. I was in the doorway of a
stable watching a long time, and all in a
moment he rushed past me out of the door.
The policeman was seeking within when he
came out, but thouo^h he touched me I could
not stop him. And now," with sudden
w^eariness as his excitement evaporated,
*' all is then over for the night ? And the
others ? Where are they ? Do we wait for
them here ? "

'' We should wait some time if we did,"

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 203

replied Charles. " Ralph Is certain to go on
to the other coverts. He has poachers on
the brain. Probably the rumour that they
were coming here was only a blind, and they
are doinof a eood business somewhere else.
I am eoine home. I have had enoug^h
enjoyment for one evening. I should advise
you to do the same."

Dare winced, and did not answer, and
Charles suddenly remembered that there
were circumstances which mieht make it
difficult for him to q-q back to Vandon.

They walked away together in silence.
Dare, who had been wildly excited, was
beo-inninor to feel the reaction. He was

o o

becoming giddy and faint with exhaustion
and want of food. He had eaten nothing all
day. They had not gone far when Charles
saw that he stumbled at every other step.

'' Look out," he said once, as Dare stumbled
more heavily than usual, " you'll twist your
ankle on these loose stones if you're not
more careful."

204 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

*' It is SO dark," said Dare faintly.

The moon was shining brightly at the
moment, and as Charles turned to look at
him in surprise, Dare staggered forward, and
would have collapsed altogether if he had
not caught him by the arm.

" Sit down," he said authoritatively. " Here,
not on me, man, on the bank. Always sit
down when you can't stand. You have had
too much excitement. I felt the same after
my first Christmas tree. You will be better
directly."

Charles spoke lightly, but he knew from
what he had seen that Dare must have
passed a miserable day. He had never
liked him. It was impossible that he should
have done so. But even his more active
dislike of the last few months gave way to
pity for him now, and he felt almost ashamed
at the thought that his own happiness was
only to be built on the ruin of poor Dare's.

He made him swallow the contents of his
flask, and as Dare choked and gasped himself

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 205

back into the fuller possession of his faculties,
and experienced the benign influences of
whisky, entertained at first unawares, his
heart, always easily touched, warmed to the
owner of the silver flask, and of the strong
arm that was supporting him with an un-
willinorness he little dreamed of. His
momentary jealousy of Charles In the summer
had long since been forgotten. He felt
towards him now, as Charles helped him up,
and he proceeded slowly on his arm, as a
friend and a brother.

Charles, entirely unconscious of the noble
sentiments which he and his flask had Inspired,
looked narrowly at his companion, as they
neared the turn for Atherstone, and said with
some anxiety —

" Where are you going to-night ? "

Dare made no answer. He had no Idea
where he was going.

Charles hesitated. He could not let him
walk back alone to Vandon — over the bridge.
It w^as long past midnight. Dare's evident

20D SIR CHARLES DANVKRS.

Inability to think where to turn touched
him.

*' Can I be of any use to you ? " he said
earnestly. '' Is there anything I can do ?
Perhaps, at present, you would rather not go
to Vandon."

"No, no," said Dare, shuddering; ''I will
not go there."

Charles felt more certain than ever that It
would not be safe to leave him to his own
devices, and his anxiety not to lose sight of
him in his present state gave a kindness to
his manner of which he was hardly aware.

" Come back to Atherstone with me," he
said. " I will explain it to Ralph when he
comes in. It will be all right."

Dare accepted the proposition with grati-
tude. It relieved him for the moment from
coming to any decision. He thanked Charles
with effusion, and then — his natural impulsive-
ness quickened by the quantity of raw spirits
he had swallowed, by this mark of sympathy,
by the moonlight, by Heaven knows what

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 207

that loosens the facile tono^ue of unretlcence
— then suddenly, without a moment's pre-
paration, he began to pour forth his troubles
into Charles's astonished and reluctant ears.
It was vain to try to stop him, and, after the
first moment of instinctive recoil, Charles
was seized by a burning curiosity to know all
where he already knew so much, to put an
end to this racking suspense.

" And that is not the worst," said Dare,
when he had recounted how the woman he
had seen on the church steps was in very
deed the wife she claimed to be. '' That is
not the worst. I love another. We are
affianced. We are as one. I bring sorrow
upon her I love."

*' She knows, then?" asked Charles
hoarsely, hating himself for being such a
hypocrite, but unable to refrain from putting
a leading question.

" She knows that some one — a person — is
at Vandon," replied Dare, *' who calls herself
my wife, but I tell her it is not true, and she,

208 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

all goodness, all heavenly calm, she trusts me,
and once again she promises to marry me if I
am free, as I tell her, as I swear to her."

Charles listened in astonishment. He saw
Dare was speaking the truth, but that Ruth
could have given such a promise was difficult
to believe. He did not know, what Dare
even had not at all realized, that she had
given it In the belief that Dare, from his
answers to her questions, had never been
married to the woman at all, In the belief
that she was a mere adventuress seeking to
make money out of him by threatening a
scandalous libel, and without the faintest
suspicion that she was his divorced wife,
whether legally or Illegally divorced.

Dare had understood the promise to
depend on the legality or illegality of that
divorce, and told Charles so in all good faith.
With an extraordinary effort of reticence he
withheld the name of his affianced, and press-
ing Charles's arm, begged him to ask no
more. And Charles, half sorry, half con-

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 209

temptuous, wholly ashamed of having allowed
such a confidence to be forced upon him,
marched on in silence, now divided between
mortal anxiety for Raymond and pity for
Dare, now striving to keep down a certain
climbing rapturous emotion which would not
be suppressed.

One of the servants had waited up for
their return, and after eettlnof Dare some-
thing to eat, Charles took him up to the
room which had been prepared for himself,
and then feeling he had done his duty by
him, and that he was safe for the present,
went back to smoke by the smoking-room
fire till Ralph came In, which was not till
several hours later. When he did at last
return It was In triumph. He was dead-
beat, voiceless, and footsore ; but a sense of
glory sustained him. Four poachers had
been taken red-handed in the coverts furthest
from Arlelgh. The rumour about Arleigh
had, of course, been a blind ; but he, Ralph,
thank Heaven, was not to be taken In In

VOL. II. 32

2IO SIR CIIARL:ES DANVERS.

such a hurry as all that ! He could look
after his Interests as well as most men. In
short, he was full of glorification to the brim,
and It was only after hearing a hoarse and
full account of the whole transaction several
times over that Charles was able In a pause
for breath to tell him that he had offered
Dare a bed, as he was quite tired out, and
was some distance from Vandon.

''All right. Quite right," said Ralph, un-
heeding ; " but you and he missed the best
part of the whole thing. Great Scot ! when
I saw them come dodging round under the

Black Rock and " He was off again;

and Charles doubted afterwards as he fell
asleep In his armchair by the fire, whether
Ralph, already slumbering peacefully opposite
him, had paid the least attention to what he
had told him, and would not have entirely
forgotten it In the morning. And, In fact, he
did, and It was not until Evelyn desired with
dignity on the morrow, that another time
unsuitable persons should not be brought at

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 2 I I

midnight to her house, that he remembered
what had happened.

Charles, who was present, immediately
took the blame upon himself, but Evelyn was
not to be appeased. By this time the whole
neiofhbourhood was rinofine with the news of
the arrival of a foreign wife at Vandon, and
Evelyn felt that Dare's presence in her blue
bedroom, with crockery and crewel-work
curtains to match, compromised that apart-
ment and herself, and that he must incon-
tinently depart out of it. It was in vain that
Ralph and even Charles expostulated. She
remained unmoved. It was not, she said, as
if she had been unwilling to receive him in
the first instance, as a possible Roman
Catholic, though many might have blamed
her for that, and perhaps she had been to
blame ; but she had never, no, never, had
any one to stay that anybody could say any-
thing about. (This was a solemn fact which
it was impossible to deny.) Ralph might
remember her own cousin, Willie Best, and

2 12 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

she had always Hked WilHe, had never been
asked again after that tune — Ralph chuckled
— that time he knew of. She was very sorry,
and she quite understood all Charles meant,
and she quite saw the force of what he said ;
but she could not allow people to stay in the
house who had foreign wives that had been
kept secret. What was poor Willie, who
had only — Ralph need not laugh ; there was
nothing to laugh at — what was Willie to
this ? She must be consistent. She could
see Charles was very angry with her, but she
could not encourage what was wrong, even
if he was angry. In short, Dare must go.

But when it came to the point, it w^as
found that Dare could not 2:0. Nothinof
short of force would have turned the unwel-
come guest out of the bed in the blue bed-
room, from which he made no attempt to rise,
and on which he lay worn out and feverish,
In a stupor of sheer mental and physical
exhaustion.

Charles and Ralph went and looked at

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 213

him rather ruefully, with masculine helpless-
ness, and the end of it was that Evelyn, in
no wise softened, for she was a good woman,
had to give way, and a doctor was sent for.

" Send for the man in D . Don't have

the Slumberleigh man," said Charles ; " it
will only make more talk ; " and the doctor
from D w^as accordingly sent for.

He did not arrive till the afternoon, and
after he had seen Dare, and given him a
sleeping draught, and had talked reassuringly
of a mental shock and a feverish tempera-
ment, he apologized for his delay in coming.
He had been kept, he said, drawing on his
gloves as he spoke, by a very serious case in

the police-station at D . A man had

been arrested on suspicion the previous
night, and he seemed to have sustained some
fatal internal injury. He ought to have been
taken to the infirmary at once ; but it had
been thought he was only shamming when
first arrested, and once in the police-station
he could not be moved, and — the doctor took

2 14 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

up his hat — he would probably hardly out-
live the day.

" By the way," he added, turning at the
door, "he asked over and over again while
I was with him to see you or Mr. Danvers.
Vm sure I forget which, but I promised him
I would mention it. Nearly slipped my
memory, all the same. He said one of you
had known him in his better days, at — Oxford,
was it ? "

'' What name ? " asked Charles.

" Stephens," replied the doctor. "He
seemed to think you would remember him."

*' Stephens," said Charles reflectively.
" Stephens ! I once had a valet of that
name, and a very good one he was, who left
my service rather abruptly, taking v/ith him
numerous portable memorials of myself, in-
cluding a set of diamond studs. I endeavoured
at the time to keep up my acquaintance with
him ; but he took measures effectually to
close it. In fact, I have never heard of him
from that day to this."

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 215

'' That's the man, no doubt," replied the
doctor. "He has — er — a sort of look about
him as if he might have been in a gentleman's
service once ; seen-better-days-sort of look,
you know."

Charles said he should be at D in

the course of the afternoon, and would make
a point of looking in at the police-station j
and a quarter of an hour later he was driving
as hard as he could tear in Ralph's high dog-
cart alono- the road to D . It was a six-

mile drive, and he slackened as he reached
the straggling suburbs of the little town,
lying before him in a dim mist of fine rain
and smoke.

Arrived at the dismal building which he
knew to be the police-station, he was shown
into a small room hung round with papers,
where the warden was writing, and desired,
with an authority so evidently accustomed
to obedience that it invariably insured it. to
see the prisoner. The prisoner he said, at
whose arrest he had been present, had ex-

2l6 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

pressed a wish to see him through the doctor ;
and as the warden demurred for the space of
one second, Charles mentioned that he was
a magistrate and justice of the peace, and
sternly desired the confused official to show
him the way at once. That functionary,
awed by the stately manner which none knew
better than Charles when to assume, led the
way down a narrow stone passage, past
numerous doors behind one of which a
banging sound, accompanied by alcoholic
oaths, suggested the presence of a free-born
Briton chafing under restraint.

" I had him put upstairs, sir," said the
w^arden humbly. " We didn't know when he
came in as it was a case for the infirmary ;
but seeing he was wanted for a big thing,
and poorly in his 'ealth, I giv' him one of the
superior cells, with a mattress and piller
complete."

The man was evidently afraid that Charles
had come as a magistrate to give him a
reprimand of some kind, for, as he led the

SIR CPIARLES DANVERS. 21/

way up a narrow stone staircase, he continued
to expatiate on the luxury of the " mattress
and piller," on the superiority of the cell, and
how a nurse had been sent for at once from
the infirmary, when, owing to his own
shrewdness, the prisoner was found to be " a
hospital case."

'' The doctor wouldn't have him moved,"
he said, opening a closed door in a long
passage full of doors, the rest of which stood
open. '' It's not reg'lar to have him in here,
sir, I know ; but the doctor wouldn't have
him moved."

Charles passed through the door, and
found himself in a narrow whitewashed cell,
with a bed at one side, over which an old
woman in the dress of a hospital nurse was
bending.

" You can come out, Martha," said the
warden. '' The gentleman's come to see 'im."

As the old woman disappeared curtseying,
he lingered to say in a whisper.

" Do you know him, sir ? "

2l8 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

" Yes," said Charles, looking fixedly at the
figure on the bed. '' I remember him. I
knew him years ago, in his better days.
I dare say he will have something to tell
me."

*' If it should be anything as requires a
witness," continued the man — ''he's said a
deal already, and it's all down in proper form
— but if there's anything more "

*' I will let you know," said Charles, look-
ing towards the door, and the warden took
the hint and went out of It, closing it quietly.

Charles crossed the little room, and sitting
down in the crazy chair beside the bed, laid
his hand gently on the listless hand lying
palm upwards on the rough grey counter-
pane.

" Raymond," he said ; " it is I, Danvers."

The hand trembled a little, and made a
faint attempt to clasp his. Charles took the
cold lifeless hand, and held it in his strong
gentle grasp.

It is Danvers," he said again.

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 219

The sick man turned his head slowly on
the pillow, and looked fixedly at him.
Death's own colour, which imitation can
never imitate, nor ignorance mistake, w^as
stamped upon that rigid face.

*' I'm done for," he said w^ith a faint smile,
which touched the lips but did not reach the
solemn far-reaching eyes.

Charles could not speak.

'' You said I should turn up tails once too
often," continued Raymond, with slow halting
utterance, " and I've done it. I knew it was
all up when I pitched over that damned wall
on to the stones. I felt I'd killed myself."

" How did they get you ? " said Charles.

'' I don't know," replied Raymond, closing
his eyes wearily, as if the subject had ceased
to interest him. " I think I tried to creep
along under the wall tow^ards the place where
it is broken down, w^hen I fancy some one
came over long after the others, and knocked
me on the head."

Charles reflected with sudden wrath that

2 20 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Brooks no doubt had been the man, and how
much worse than useless his manoeuvre with
the stick had been.

** I did my best," he said humbly.

" Yes," replied the other ; '' and I would
not have forgotten it either if — if there had
been any time to remember it in ; but there
won't be. I've owned up," he continued in a
laboured whisper. " Stephens has made a full
confession. You'll have it in all the papers
to-morrow. And while I was at it I piled
on some more I never did, which will get
friends over the water out of trouble. Tom
Flavell did me a good turn once, and he's
been in hiding these two years for — well, it
don't much matter what, but I've shoved
that in with the rest, though it was never in my
line — never. He'll be able to go home now."

" Have not you confessed under your own
name ? "

" No," replied Raymond, with a curious
remnant of that pride of race at which it is
the undisputed privilege of low birth and a

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 221

plebeian temperament to sneer. " I won't
have my ov/n name dragged In. I dropped
it years ago. I've confessed as Stephens,
and I'll die and be burled as Stephens. I'm
not going to disgrace the family."

There was a constrained silence of some
minutes.

" Would you like to see your sister ? "
asked Charles ; but Raymond shook his head
with feeble decision.

" That man ! " he said suddenly after a
long pause. *' That man in the doorway !
How did he come there ? "

" There Is no man In the doorway,"' said
Charles reassuringly. '' There is no one here
but me."

'' Last night," continued Raymond, " last
night in the stables. I watched him stand in
the doorway."

Charles remembered how Dare had said
Raymond had bolted out past him.

" That was Dare," he said ; " the man who
was to have been your brother-in-law."

2 22 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

" Ah ! " said Raymond with evident uncon-
cern. " I thought I'd seen him before. But
he's altered. He's grown into a man. So
he is to marry Ruth, is he ? "

" Not now. He was to have done, but a
divorced wife from America has turned up.
She arrived at Vandon the day before yester-
day. It seems the divorce in America does
not hold In England."

Raymond started.

" The old fox," he said with feeble energy.
*' Tracked him out, has she ? We used to
call them fox and o^oose when she married

him. By , she squeezed every dollar

out of him before she let him go, and now
she's got him again, has she ? She always
was a cool hand. The old fox," he continued
with contempt and admiration In his voice.
*' She's playing a bold game, and the luck is
on her side, but she's no more his wife than
I am, and she knows that perfectly well."

" Do you mean that the divorce was ? "

*' Divorce, bosh ! " said Raymond, work-

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 223

Ing himself up into a state of feeble excite-
ment frightful to see. " I tell you she was
never married to him legally. She called
herself a widow when she married Dare, but
she had a husband living, Jaspar Carroll,
serving his time at Baton Rouge jail, down
South, all the time. He died there a year
afterwards, but hardly a soul know^s It to this
day ; and those that do don't care about
bringing themselves into public notice.
They'll prefer hush-money, if they find out
what she's up to now. The prison register
would prove it directly. But Dare will never
find it out. How should he ? "

Raymond sank back speechless and pant-
ing. A strong shudder passed over him, and
his breath seemed to fail.

'' It's coming," he whispered hoarsely.
" That lying doctor said I had several hours,
and I feel it coming already."

'' Danvers," he continued hurriedly, " are
you still there ? " Then, as Charles bent
over him, '* Closer ; bend down. I want to

2 24 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

see your face. Keep your own counsel
about Dare. There's no one to tell if you
don't. He's not fit for Ruth. You can
marry her now. I saw what I saw. She'll
take you. And some day — some day, when
you have been married a long time, tell her
I'm dead ; and tell her — about Flavell, and
how I owned to it — but that I did not do it.
I never sank so low as that." His voice had
dropped to a whisper which died imper-
ceptibly away.

*' I will tell her," said Charles; and Ray-
mond turned his face to the wall, and spoke
no more.

The struggle had passed, and for the
moment death held aloof, but his shadow
was there, lying heavy on the deepening
twilight, and darkening all the little room.
Raymond seemed to have sunk into a stupor,
and at last Charles rose silently and went out.

He was dimly conscious of meeting some
one in the passage, of answering some ques-
tion in the negative, and then he found him-

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 22 5

self gathering up the reins, and driving

through the narrow Hghted streets of D

in the dusk, and so away down the long flat
high-road to Atherstone.

A white mist had risen up to meet the
darkness, and had shrouded all the land. In
sweeps and curves along the fields a gleaming
pallor lay of heavy dew upon the grass, and
on the road the lonor lines of dim water in
the ruts reflected the dim sky.

Carts lumbered past him in the darkness
once or twice, the men in them peering back
at his reckless driving ; and once a carriage
with lamps came swiftly up the road towards
him, and passed him with a flash, grazing his
wheel. But he took no heed. Drive as
quickly as he would through mist and dark-
ness, a voice followed him, the voice of a
pursuing devil close at his ear, whispering in
the halting, feeble utterance of a dying man — ■

*' Keep your own counsel about Dare.
There is no one to tell if you don't."

Charles shivered and set his teeth. High

VOL. II. S3

2 26 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

on the hill amone the trees the distant
lights of Slumberleigh shone like glowworms
through the mist. He looked at them with
wild eyes. She was there, the woman who
loved him, and whom he passionately loved.
He could stretch forth his hand to take her
if he would. His breath came hard and
thick. A hand seemed clutching and tearing
at his heart. And close at his ear the
whisper came —

*' There is no one to tell if yon dont^

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 227

CHAPTER XII.

It was close on dressing time when Charles
came into the drawing-room, where Evelyn
and Molly were building castles on the
hearthrug in the ruddy firelight. After
changing his damp clothes, he had gone to
the smoking-room, but he had found Dare
sitting there • in a vast dressing-gown of
Ralph's, in a state of such utter dejection,
with his head in his hands, that he had
silently retreated again before he had been
perceived. He did not want to see Dare
just now. He wished he were not in the
house.

Quite oblivious of the fact that he was not
in Evelyn's good graces, he went and sat by
the drawing-room fire, and absently watched

2 28 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Molly playing with her bricks. Presently,
when the dressing-bell rang, Evelyn went
away to dress, and Molly, tired of her castles,
suggested that she might sit on his knee.

He let her climb up and wriggle and
finally settle herself as it seemed good to
her, but he did not speak ; and so they sat
in the firelight together, Molly's hand lovingly
stroking his black velvet coat. But her
talents lay in conversation, not in silence,
and she soon broke it.

'' You do look beautiful to-night, Uncle
Charles."

'' Do I ?" without elation.

'' Do you know. Uncle Charles, Ninny's
sister, with the wart on her cheek, has been
to tea ? She's in the nursery now. Ninny
says she's to have a bite of supper before
she goes."

'' You don't say so."

'' And we had buttered toast to tea, and
she said you were the most splendid gentle-
man she ever saw."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 229

Charles did not answer. He did not even
seem to have heard this Interestlnof tribute

<z>

to his personal appearance. INIolly felt that
something must be gravely amiss, and laying
her soft cheek against his she whispered
confidentially —

" Uncle Charles, are you uncomferable
inside ?"

There was a long pause.

" Yes, Molly," at last, pressing her to him.

''Is it there ?" said Molly sympathetically,
laying her hand on the front portion of her
amber sash.

''No, INIolly; I only wish it were."

" It's not the little green pears, then," said
Molly with a sigh of experience, " because
it's always jiLst there, ahvays, with them. It
was again yesterday. They're nasty little
pears " — with a touch of personal resentment.

Uncle Charles smiled at last, but it was
not quite his usual smile.

" Miss Molly," said a voice from the door,
" your mamma has sent for you."

230 SIR CHARLES DAK VERS.

" It's not bedtime yet."

''Your mamma says you are to come at
once," was the reply.

Molly, knowing from experience that an
appeal to Charles was useless on these occa-
sions, wriggled down from her perch rather
reluctantly, and bade her uncle "Good night."

" Perhaps it will be better to-morrow," she
said consolingly.

" Perhaps," he said, nodding at her ; and
he took her little head between his hands,
and kissed her. She rubbed his kiss off
again, and walked gravely away. She could
not be merry and ride in triumph upstairs on
kind curveting Sarah's willing back, while
her friend was " uncomferable inside." There
was no galloping down the passage that
night, no pleasantries with the sponge in
Molly's tub, no last caperings in light attire.
Molly went silently to bed, and as on a
previous occasion when in great anxiety
about Vic, who had thoughtlessly gone out
in the twilight for a stroll, and had forgotten

SIR CHARLES DANYERS. 23 1

the lapse of time, she added a whispered
clause to her little petitions which the ear of
'' Ninny " failed to catch.

Charles recognized, in the way Evelyn had
taken Molly from him, that she was not yet
appeased. It should be remembered, in order
to do her justice, that a good woman's means
of showing a proper resentment are so
straitened and circumscribed by her con-
science that she is obliged, from actual want
of material, to resort occasionally to little acts
of domestic tyranny, small in themselves as
midge bites, but, fortunately for the cause of
virtue, equally exasperating. Indeed, it Is
improbable that any really good woman
would ever so far forget herself as to lose
her temper, if she were once thoroughly
aware how much more irritating in the long
run a judicious course of those small per-
secutions may be made, which the tenderest
conscience need not scruple to Inflict.

Charles was unreasonably annoyed at
having Molly taken from him. As he sat

232 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

by the fire alone, tired in mind and body, a
hovering sense of cold, and an Intense weari-
ness of life took him ; and a great longing
came over him like a thirst — a lonoinor for a
little of the personal happiness which seemed
to be the common lot of so many round him ;
for a home where he had now only a house ;
for love and warmth and companionship, and
possibly some day a little Molly of his own,
who would not be taken from him at the
caprice of another.

The only barrier to the fulfilment of such
a dream had been a conscientious scruple of
Ruth's, to which at the time he had urged
upon her that she did wrong to yield. That
barrier was now broken down ; but It ought
never to have existed. Ruth and he be-
longed to each other by divine law, and she
had no right to give herself to any one else
to satisfy her own conscience. And now —
all would be well. She was absolved from
her promise. She had been wrong to persist
in keeping it in his opinion ; but at any rate

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 233

she was honourably released from it now.
And she would marry him.

And that second promise, which she had
made to Dare, that she would still marry him
if he were free to marry ?

Charles moved impatiently in his chair.
From what exaggerated sense of duty she
had made that promise he knew not ; but he
would save her from the effects of her own
perverted judgment. He knew what Ruth's
word meant, since he had tried to make her
break it. He knew that she had promised to
marry Dare if he were free. He knew that,
having made that promise, she would keep it.

It would be mere sentimental folly on his
part to say the word that would set Dare
free. Even if the American woman were
not his wife in the eye of the law, she had a
moral claim upon him. The possibility of
Ruth's still marrying Dare was too hideous
to be thought of. If her judgment was so
entirely perverted by a morbid conscientious
fear of following her own inclination that she

2 34 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

could actually give Dare that promise, directly
after the arrival of the adventuress, Charles
would take the decision out of her hands.
As she could not judge fairly for herself, he
would judge for her, and save her from
herself.

For her sake as much as for his own he
resolved to say nothing. He had only to
keep silence.

" There s no one to tell if you donty

The door opened, and Charles gave a start
as Dare came into the room. He was taken
aback by the sudden rush of hatred that
surged up within him at his appearance. It
angered and shamed him, and Dare, much
shattered but feebly cordial, found him very
irresponsive and silent for the few minutes
that remained before the dinner bell rang
and the others came down.

It was not a pleasant meal. If Dare had
been a shade less ill, he must have noticed
the marked coldness of Evelyn's manner, and
how Ralph good-naturedly endeavoured to

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 235

make up for it by double helpings of soup
and fish, which he was quite unable to eat.
Charles and Lady Mary were never congenial
spirits at the best of times, and to-night was
not the best. That lady, after feebly pro-
voking the attack as usual, sustained some
crushing defeats, mainly couched In the
language of Scripture, which was, as she felt
with Christian indignation, turning her own
favourite weapon against herself, as possibly
Charles thought she deserved, for putting
such a weapon to so despicable a use.

" I really don't know," she said tremulously
afterwards in the drawing-room, " what
Charles will come to If he goes on like this.
I don't mind," venomously, '' his tone towards
myself. That I do not regard ; but his entire
want of reverence for the Church and
apostolic succession ; his profane remarks
about vestments ; in short, his entire attitude
towards religion gives me the gravest
anxiety."

In the dining-room the conversation

236 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

flagged, and Charles was beginning to
wonder whether he could make some excuse
and bolt, when a servant came in with a
note for him. It was from the doctor in
D , and ran as follows : —

" Dear Sir,

" I have just seen {6.30 p.m.)
Stephens again. I found him in a state of
the wildest excitement, and he implored me
to send you word that he wanted to see you
again. He seemed so sure that you would
go if you knew he wished it, that I have
commissioned Sergeant Brown's boy to take
this. He wished me to say ' there was
something more.' If there is any further
confession he desires to make, he has not
much time to do it in. I did not expect he
would have lasted till now. As it is, he is
going fast. Indeed, I hardly think you will
be in time to see him ; but I promised to give

you this message.

*' Yours faithfully,

'' R. White."

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 237

" I must go," Charles said, throwing the
note across to Ralph; ''give the boy half a
crown, will you ? I suppose I may take
Othello ? " and before Ralph had mastered the
contents of the note, and begun to fumble for
a half-crown, Charles was saddlintj Othello
himself, without waiting for the groom, and.
in a few minutes was clatterinof over the
stones out of the yard.

There was just light enough to ride by,
and he rode hard. What was it ; what could
it be that Raymond had still to tell him ?
He felt certain it had something to do with
Ruth, and probably Dare. Should he arrive
in time to hear it ? There at last were the

liehts of D in front of him. Should he

arrive in time ? As he pulled up his steam-
ing horse before the police-station his heart
misgave him.

*' Am I too late ? " he asked of the man
who came to the door.

He looked bewildered.

" Stephens ? Is he dead ? "

238 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The man shook his head.

'' They say he's a'most gone."

Charles threw the rein to him, and hurried
indoors. He met some one coming out, the
doctor probably he thought afterwards, who
took him upstairs, and sent away the old
woman who was in attendance.

*' I can't do anything more," he said, open-
ing the door for him. " Wanted elsewhere.
Very good of you, I'm sure. Not much use,
I'm afraid. Good night. I'll tell the old
woman to be about."

A dim lamp was burning on the little
corner cupboard near the door, and as
Charles bent over the bed, he saw in a
moment, even by that pale light, that he was
too late.

Life was still there, if that feeble tossing
could be called life ; but all else was gone.
Raymond's feet were already on the boundary
of the land where all things are forgotten ;
and at the sight of that dim country, memory,
affrighted, had slipped away and left him.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 239

Was It possible to recall him to himself
even yet ?

*' Raymond," he said, In a low distinct
voice, " what is it you wish to say ? Tell
me quickly what it is."

But the long agony of farewell between
body and soul had begun, and the eyes that
seemed to meet his with momentary recog-
nition, only looked at him In anguish, seeking
help and finding none, and wandered away
again, vainly searching for that which was
not to be found.

Charles could do nothing, but he had not
the heart to leave him to struggle with death
entirely alone, and so, in awed and helpless
compassion, he sat by him through one long
hour after another, waiting for the end which
still delayed, his eyes wandering ever and
anon from the bed to the high grated window,
or idly spelling out the different names and
disparaging remarks that previous occupants
had scratched and scrawled over the white-
washed walls.

240 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

And so the hours passed.

At last, all in a moment, the struggle
ceased. The dying man vainly tried to raise
himself to meet what was coming, and
Charles put his strong arm round him and
held him up. He knew that consciousness
sometimes returns at the moment of death.

'' Raymond," he whispered earnestly.
" Raymond."

A tremor passed over the face. The lips
moved. The homeless, lingering soul came
back, and looked for the last time fixedly and
searchingly at him out of the dying eyes, and
then — seeing no help for it — went hurriedly
on its way, leaving the lips parted to speak,
leaving the deserted eyes vacant and terrible,
until after a time Charles closed them.

He had gone without speaking. Whatever
he had wished to say would remain unsaid
for ever. Charles laid him down, and stood
a long time looking at the set face. The
likeness to Raymond seemed to be fading
away under the touch of the Mighty Hand,

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 24 1

but the look of Ruth, the better look,
remained.

At last he turned away and went out,
stopping to wake the old nurse, heavily asleep
in the passage. His horse was brought
round for him from somewhere, and he
mounted and rode away. He had no idea
how long he had been there. It must have
been many hours, but he had quite lost
sight of time. It was still dark, but the
morninor could not be far off. He rode
mechanically his horse, which knev/ the road,
taking him at its own pace. The night was
cold, but he did not feel it. All power of
feeling anything seemed dried up within him.
The last two days and nights of suspense
and hio^h struno^ emotion seemed to have left
him incapable of any further sensation at
present beyond that of an intense fatigue.

He rode slowly, and put up his horse
with careful absence of mind. The eastern
horizon was already growing pale and distinct
as he found his way indoors through the

VOL. II. 34

242 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

drawing-room window, the shutter of which
had been left unhinged for him by Ralph,
according to custom when either of them was
out late. He went noiselessly up to his
room, and sat down. After a time he started
to find himself still sitting there ; but he
remained without stirring, too tired to move,
his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands.
He felt he could not sleep if he were to
drag himself into bed. He might just as
well stay where he was.

And as he sat watching the dawn his
mind began to stir, to shake off its lethargy
and stupor, to struggle into keener and keener
consciousness.

There are times, often accompanying great
physical prostration, when a veil seems to
be lifted from our mental vision. As in the
Mediterranean one may glance down suddenly
on a calm day, and see in the blue depths
with a strange surprise the seaweed and the
rocks and the fretted sands below, so also in
rare hours we see the hidden depths of the

i

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 243

soul, over which we have floated in heedless
unconsciousness so long, and catch a glimpse
of the hills and the valleys of those untravelled
regions.

Charles sat very still with his chin in his
hands. His mind did not work. It looked
right down to the heart of things.

There is, perhaps, no time when mental
vision is so clear, when the mind is so sane,
as when death has come very near to us.
There is a light which he brings with him,
which he holds before the eyes of the dying,
the stern light seldom seen, of reality, before
which self-deception, and meanness, and that
which maketh a lie, cower in their native
deformity and slip away.

And death sheds at times a strange gleam
from that same light upon the souls of those
who stand within his shadow, and watch his
kingdom coming. In an awful transfigura-
tion, all things stand for what they are. Evil
is seen to be evil, and good to be good.
Right and wrong sunder more far apart,

244 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

and we cannot mistake them as we do at
other times. The debateable land stretching
between them — that favourite resort of un-
decided natures — disappears for a season, and
offers no longer its false refuge. The mind
is taken away from all artificial supports,
and the knowledge comes home to the soul
afresh, with strong conviction, that " truth is
our only armour in all passages of life," as
with awed hearts we see it is the only armour
in the hour of death, the only shield that we
may bear away with us into the unknown
country.

Charles shuddered involuntarily. His de-
cision of the afternoon to keep secret what
Raymond had told him was gradually but
surely assuming a different aspect. What
was it, after all, but a suppression of truth,
a kind of lie ? What was it but doing evil
that eood mio^ht come ?

It was no use harping on the old string
of consequences. He saw that he had re-
solved to commit a deliberate sin, to be false

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 245

to that great principle of life — right for the
sake of right, truth for the love of truth — by
which of late he had been trying to live. So
far, it had not been difficult, for his nature
was not one to do things by halves, but
now

Old voices out of the past, which he had
thought long dead, rose out of forgotten graves
to uree him on. What was he that he should
stick at such a trifle ? Why should a man
with his past begin to split hairs ?

And conscience said nothing, only pointed,
only showed with a clearness that allowed of
no mistake, that he had come to a place
where two roads met.

Charles's heart suffered then " the nature
of an insurrection." The old lawless powers
that had once held sway, and had been forced
back into servitude under the new rule of the
last few years of responsibility and honour,
broke loose, and spread like wildfire through-
out the kingdom of his heart.

The struggle deepened to a battle fierce

246 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

and furious. His soul was rent with a frenzy
of tumult, of victory and defeat ever changing
sides, ever returning to the attack.

Can a kinordom divided ao^ainst itself
stand ?

He sat motionless, gazing with absent eyes
in front of him.

And across the shock of battle, and above
the turmoil of conflicting passions, Ruth's
voice came to him. He saw the pale
spiritual face, the deep eyes so full of love
and anguish, and yet so steadfast with a
great resolve. He heard again her last
words, " I cannot do what is wrong, even for
you."

He stretched out his hands suddenly.

'' You would not, Ruth," he said half aloud ;
''you would not. Neither will I do what I
know to be wrong for you, so help me God !
not even for you."

The dawn was breaking, was breaking
clear and cold, and infinitely far away ; was
coming up through unfathomable depths and

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 247

distances, through gleaming caverns and
fastnesses of light, like a new revelation fresh
from God. But Charles did not see it, for
his head was down on the table, and he was
crying like a child.

248 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CHAPTER XIII.

Dare was down early the following niorning,
much too early for the convenience of the
housemaids, who were dusting the drawing-
room when he appeared there. He was
usually as late as any of the young and gilded
unemployed who feel it incumbent on them-
selves to show by these public demonstra-
tions their superiority to the rules and fixed
hours of the working and thinking world,
with whoni, however, their fear of being
identified is a groundless apprehension.
But to-day Dare experienced a mournful
satisfaction in being down so early. He felt
the underlying pathos of such a marked
departure from his usual habits. It was
obvious that nothing but deep affliction or

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 249

cub-huntinor could have been the cause, and
the cub-hunting was over. The inference
was not one that could be missed by the
meanest capacity.

He took up the newspaper with a sigh,
and settled himself in front of the blazing
fire, which was still young and leaping, with
the enthusiasm of dry sticks not quite gone
out of it.

Charles heard Dare go down just as he
finished dressing, for he was early too that
morning. There was more than half an
hour before breakfast time. He considered a
moment, and then went downstairs. Some
resolutions, once made, cannot be carried out
too quickly.

As he passed through the hall he looked
out. The mist of the niofht before had
sought out every twig and leaflet, and had
silvered it to meet the sun. The rime on
the grass looked cool and tempting. Charles's
head ached, and he went out for a moment
and stood in the crisp still air. The rooks

250 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

were cawing high up. The face of the earth
had not altered during the night. It
shimmered and was glad, and smiled at his
grave careworn face.

" Hallo ! " called a voice ; and Ralph's
head, with his hair sticking straight out on
every side, was thrust out of a window. " I
say, Charles, early bird you are ! "

*' Yes," said Charles, looking up and
leisurely going indoors again ; " you are the
first worm I have seen."

He found Dare, as he expected, in the
drawing-room, and proceeded at once to the
business he had in hand.

" I am glad you are down early," he said.
*' You are the very man I want."

*' Ah ! " replied Dare, shaking his head,
" when the heart is troubled there is no
sleep, none. All the clocks are heard."

*' Possibly. I should not wonder if you
heard another in the course of half an hour,
which will mean breakfast. In the mean
time "

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 25 1

" I want no breakfast. A sole cup of "

'' In the mean time," continued Charles, '' I
have some news for you." And disregarding
another interruption, he related as shortly as
he could the story of Stephens's recognition
of him in the doorway, and the subsequent
revelations in the prison concerning Dare's
marriage.

" Where is this man, this Stephens ? " said
Dare, jumping up. " I will go to him. I
will hear from his own mouth. Where is he ? "

" I don't know," replied Charles curtly,
" It Is a matter of opinion. He is dead,"

Dare looked bewildered, and then sank
back with a gasp of disappointment into his
chair.

Charles, whose temper was singularly
irritable this morning, repeated with sup-
pressed annoyance the greater part of what
he had just said, and proved to Dare that
the fact that Stephens was dead would in no
way prevent the illegality of his marriage
being proved.

252 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

When Dare had grasped the full significance
of that fact he was quite overcome.

*'Am I then," he gasped — "is it true? —
ani I free — to marry ? "

'' Quite free."

Dare burst into tears, and partially veiling
with one hand the manly emotion that had
overtaken him, he extended the other to
Charles, who did not know what to do with
it when he had got it, and dropped it as soon
as he could. But Dare, like many people
whose feelings are all on the surface, and
who are rather proud of displaying them,
was slow to notice what was passing in the
minds of others.

He sprang to his feet, and began to pace
rapidly up and down.

** I will go after breakfast — at once — im-
mediately after breakfast, to Slumberleigh
Rectory."

" I suppose, in that case, Miss Deyncourt
is the person whose name you would not
mention the other day ? "

SIR CHARLES DANVERS, 253

'' She is," said Dare, " You are riQ^ht. It
is she. We are betrothed. I will fly to her
after breakfast."

**You know your own affairs best," said
Charles, whose temper had not been improved
by the free display of Dare's finer feelings,
*' but I am not sure you would not do well to
fly to Vandon first. It is best to be off with
the old love, I believe, before you are on with
the new."

'' She must at once go away from Vandon,"
said Dare, stopping short. '' She is a scandal,
the — the old one. But how to make her o-q
away ? "

It was in vain for Charles to repeat that
Dare must turn her out. Dare had pre-
monitory feelings that he was quite unequal
to the task.

" I may tell her to go," he said, raising his
eyebrows. *' I may be firm as the rock, but
I know her well ; she is more obstinate than
me. She will not go."

" She must," said Charles with anger.

2 54 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

** Her presence compromises Miss Deyncourt.
Can't you see that ? "

Dare raised his eyebrows. A light seemed
to break in on him.

"Any fool can see that," said Charles,
losing his temper.

Dare saw a great deal, many things beside
that. He saw that if a friend, a trusted
friend, were to manage her dismissal, it would
be more easy for that friend than for one
whose feelings at the moment might carry
him away. In short, Charles was the friend
who was evidently pointed out by Providence
for that mission.

Charles considered a moment. He began
to see that it would not be done without
further delays and scandal unless he did it.

*' She must and shall go at once, even if I
have to do it," he said at last, looking at
Dare with unconcealed contempt. ''It is
not my affair, but I will go, and you Avill be
so good as to put off the flying over to
Slumberleigh till I come back. I shall not

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 255

return until she has left the house." And
Charles marched out of the room, too indig-
nant to trust himself a moment longer with
the profusely grateful Dare.

'' That man must go to-day," said Evelyn
after breakfast to her husband, in the pre-
sence of Lady Mary and Charles. " While
he was ill I overlooked his being in the
house ; but I will not suffer him to remain
now he is well."

" You remove him from all chances of
improvement," said Charles, *' if you take
him away from Aunt Mary, who can snatch
brands from the burning as we all know ; but
I am going over to Vandon this morning,
and if you wish it I will ask him if he would
like me to order his dog-cart to come for
him. I don't suppose he is very happy here,
without so much as a tooth brush that he
can call his own."

" You are going to Vandon ? " asked both
ladies in one voice.

" Yes. I am going on purpose to dislodge

256 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

an Impostor who has arrived there, who Is
actually believed by some people (who are
not such exemplary Christians as ourselves,
and ready to suppose the worst) to be his
wife."

Lady Mary and Evelyn looked at each
other In consternation, and Charles went off
to see how Othello was after his night's
work, and to order the dog-cart, Ralph
calling after him In perfect good humour
that '' a fellow's brother got more out of a
fellow's horses than a fellow did himself"

Dare waylaid Charles on his return from
the stables, and linked his arm in his. He
felt the most enthusiastic admiration for the
tall reserved Eno^llshman who had done him
such signal service. He longed for an
opportunity of showing his gratitude to him.
It was perhaps just as well that he was not
aware how very differently Charles regarded
himself

" You are just going ? " Dare asked.

'* In five minutes."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 257

Charles let his arm hang straight down,
but Dare kept it.

" Tell me, my friend, one thing." Dare had
evidently been turning over something in
his mind. " This poor unfortunate, this
Stephens, why did he not tell you all this
the fij'st time you went to see him in the
afternoon ? "

'' He did."

" What ? " said Dare, looking hard at him.
''He did, and you only tell me this morning !
You let me eo all through the niQ:ht first.
Why was this .^ "

Charles did not answer.

" I ask one thing more," continued Dare.
" Did you divine two nights ago, from what
I said in a moment of confidence, that Miss
Deyncourt was the — the "

'' Of course I did," said Charles sharply.
*' You made it sufficiently obvious."

''Ah!" said Dare. "Ah!" and he shut
his eyes and nodded his head several times.

" Anything more you would like to know ? "

VOL. II. 35

258 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

asked Charles, inattentive and impatient,
mainly occupied in trying to hide the name-
less exasperation which invariably seized
him when he looked at Dare, and to stifle
the contemptuous voice which always
whispered as he did so, " And you have given
up Ruth to him — to him ! "

** No, no, no," said Dare, shaking his head
gently, and regarding him the while with
infinite interest through his half-closed eye-
lids.

The doo^-cart was cominQ^ round, and
Charles hastily turned from him, and, getting
in, drove quickly away. Whatever Dare
said or did seemed to set his teeth on edge,
and he lashed up the horse till he was out of
sieht of the house.

Dare, with arms picturesquely folded, stood
looking after him with mixed feelings of
emotion and admiration.

" One sees it well," he said to himself.
" One sees now the reason of many things.
He kept silent at first, but he was too good.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 259

too noble. In the night he considered ; in
the morninor he told all. I wondered that he
went to Vandon ; but he did it not for me.
It was for her sake."

Dare's feelings were touched to the quick.

How beautiful ! how pathetic was this
denoicejueiit I His former admiration for
Charles was increased a thousandfold. He
also loved ! Ah ! (Dare felt he was becoming
agitated). How sublime, how touching was
his self-sacrifice in the cause of honour. He
had been gradually working himself up to
the highest pitch of pleasurable excitement
and emotion ; and now, seeing Ralph the
prosaic approaching, he fled precipitately
into the house, caught up his hat and stick,
hardly glancing at himself in the hall glass,
and entirely forgetting his promise to Charles
to remain at Atherstone till the latter re-
turned from Vandon, followed the impulse of
the moment, and struck across the fields in
the direction of Slumberleigh.

Charles, meanwhile, drove on to Vandon.

260 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

The stable clock, still partially paralyzed
from long disuse, was laboriously striking
eleven as he drew up before the door. His
resounding peal at the bell startled the house-
hold, and put the servants into a flutter of
anxious expectation, while the sound made
some one else, breakfasting late in the dining-
room, pause with her cup midway to her lips
and listen.

"There is a train which leaves Slumberleigh
station for London, a little after twelve, is
not there ? " asked Charles with great dis-
tinctness of the butler as he entered the hall.
He had observed as he came in that the
dining-room door was ajar.

'* There is, Sir Charles. Twelve fifteen."
replied the man, who recognized him instantly,
for everybody knew Charles.

** I am here as Mr. Dare's friend, at his
wish. Tell Mr. Dare's coachman to bring
round his dog-cart to the door in good time
to catch that train. Will it take luggage ? "

'' Yes, Sir Charles," with respectful alacrity.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 26 1

" Good. And when the dog-cart appears,
you will see that the boxes are brought down
belonging to the person who is staying here,
who will leave by that train."

'* Yes, Sir Charles."

" If the policeman from Slumberleigh
should arrive while I am here, ask him to
wait."

'' I will, Sir Charles."

"I don't suppose," thought Charles, ''he
will arrive, as I have not sent for him, but as
the dining-room door happens to be ajar, it is
just as well to add a few artistic touches."

'' Is this person in the drawing-room ? " he
continued aloud.

The man replied that she was in .,the
dining-room, and Charles walked in un-
announced, and closed the door behind
him.

He had at times, when any action of
importance was on hand, a certain cool
decision of manner that seemed absolutely to
ignore the possibility of opposition, which

262 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

formed a curious contrast with his usual care-
less demeanour.

*' Good morning," he said, advancing to
the fire. '' I have no doubt that my appear-
ance at this early hour cannot be a surprise
to you. You have, of course, anticipated
some visit of this kind for the last few days.
Pray finish your coffee. I am Sir Charles
Danvers. I need hardly add that I am
justice of the peace In this county, and that
I am here officially on behalf of my friend,
Mr. Dare."

The little woman, who had risen, and had
then sat down again at his entrance, eyed
him steadily. There was a look In her dark
bead-like eyes which showed Charles why
Dare had been unable to face her. The
look, determined, cunning, watchful, put him
on his guard, and his manner became a shade
more unconcerned.

"Any friend of my husband's is welcome,"
she said.

" There is no question for the moment

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 263

about your husband, though no doubt a
subject of peculiar Interest to yourself. I
was speaking of Mr. Dare."

She rose to her feet, as If unable to sit
while he was standing.

"Mr. Dare is my husband," she said, with
a little gesture of defiance, tapping sharply
on the table with the teaspoon she held in
her hand.

Charles smiled blandly, and looked out of
the window.

" There is evidently some misapprehension
on that point," he observed, "which I am
here to remove. Mr. Dare Is at present
unmarried."

" I am his wife," reiterated the woman,
her colour rising under her rouge. " I am,
and I won't go. He dared not come himself,
a poor coward that he Is, to turn his wife out
of doors. He sent you ; but it's no manner
of use, so you may as well know It first as
last. I tell you nothing shall induce me to
stir from this house, from my 'ome, and you

264 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

needn't think you can come it over me with
fine talk. I don't care a red cent what you
say. I'll have my rights."

" I am here," said Charles, '' to see that
you get them, Mrs. — Cari^olir

There was a pause. He did not look at
her. He w^as occupied in taking a white
thread off his coat.

'' Carroll's dead," she said sharply.

"He Is. And your regret at his loss was
no doubt deepened by the unhappy circum-
stances in which it took place. He died in
jail."

- Well, and If he did "

'' Died," continued Charles, suddenly fixing
his keen glance upon her, " nearly a year
after your so-called marriage with Mr. Dare."

'' It's a lie," she said faintly, but she had
turned very white.

"No, I think not. My information is on
reliable authority. A slight exertion of
memory on your part will no doubt recall the
date of your bereavement."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 265

" You can't prove It."

" Excuse me. You have yourself kindly
furnished us with a copy of the marriage
register, with the date attached, without which
I must own we might have been momentarily
at a loss. I need now only apply for a copy
of the register of the decease of Jaspar
Carroll, who, as you do not deny, died under
personal restraint in jail ; in Baton Rouge
jail, in Louisiana, I have no doubt you
intended to add."

She o^lared at him in silence.

" Some dates acquire a peculiar interest
when compared," continued Charles, ''but I
will not detain you any longer with business
details of this kind, as I have no doubt that
you will wish to superintend your packing."

" I won't go."

''On the contrary, you will leave this
house in half an hour. The dog-cart is
ordered to take you to the station."

" What if I refuse to go ? "

" Extreme measures are always to be

2 66 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

regretted, especially with a lady," said Charles.
** Nothing, in short, would be more repugnant
to me ; but I fear, as a magistrate, it would

be my duty to " And he shrugged his

shoulders, wondering what on earth could be
done for the moment if she persisted. '' But,"
he continued, " motives of self-interest suggest
the advisability of withdrawing, even if I were
not here to enforce it. When I take into
consideration the trouble and expense you
have incurred in coming here, and the sub-
sequent disappointment of the affections, a
widow's affections, I feel justified in offering,
though without my friend's permission, to
pay your journey back to America, an offer
which any further unpleasantness or delay
would of course oblige me to retract."

She hesitated, and he saw his advantage
and kept it.

''You have not much time to lose," he
said, laying his watch on the table, '' unless
you would prefer the housekeeper to do your
packing for you. No ? I agree with you.

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 267

On a sea voyage especially one likes to know
where one's things are. If I give you a
cheque for your return journey, I shall of
course expect you to sign a paper to the
effect that you have no claim on I\Ir. Dare,
that you never were his legal wife, and that
you will not trouble him in future. You
would like a few moments for reflection ?
Good. I will write out the form while you
consider, as there is no time to be lost."

He looked about for writing materials, and
finding only an ancient inkstand and pen,
took a note from his pocket-book and tore
a blank half sheet off it. His quiet deliberate
movements awed her as he intended they
should. She glanced first at him writing,
then at the gold watch on the table between
them., the hours of which were marked on
the half hunting face by alternate diamonds
and rubies, each stone being the memorial of
a past success in shooting matches. The
watch impressed her ; to her practised eye it
meant a very large sum of money, and she

268 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

knew the power of money ; but the cool
unconcerned manner of this tall, keen-eyed
Englishman impressed her still more. As
she looked at him he ceased writing, got out
a cheque, and began to fill it in.

*' What Christian name ? " he asked sud-
denly.

*' Ellen," she replied, taken aback.

'' Payable to order or bearer ? "

" Bearer," she said, confused by the way
he took her decision for granted.

" Now," he said authoritatively, " sign your
name there ; " and he pushed the form he
had drawn up towards her. '' I am sorry I
cannot offer you a better pen."

She took the pen mechanically and signed
her name — Ellen Carroll. Charles's light
eyes gave a flash as she did it.

'' Manner is everything," he said to him-
self. '* I believe the mention of that
imaginary policeman may have helped, but
a little stage effect did the business."

'' Thank you," he said, taking the paper

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 269

and, after glancing at the signature, putting
It in his pocket-book. '' Allow me to give
you this " — handing her the cheque. '' And
now I will ring for the housekeeper, for you
will barely have time to make the arrange-
ments for your journey. I can only allow
you twenty minutes." He rang the bell as
he spoke.

She started up, as if unaware how far she
had yielded. A rush of angry colour flooded
her face.

" I won't have that impertinent woman
touching my things."

'' That is as you like," said Charles,
shrugging his shoulders ; '' but she will be in
the room when you pack. It is my wish
that she should be present." Then turning
to the butler, who had already answered the
bell, " Desire the housekeeper to go to Mrs.
Carroll's rooms at once, and to give Mrs.
Carroll any help she may require."

Mrs. Carroll looked from the butler to
Charles with baffled hatred In her eyes. But

270 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

she knew the game was lost, and she walked
out of the room and upstairs without another
word, but with a bitter consciousness in her
heart that she had not played her cards well,
that though her downfall was unavoidable,
she might have stood out for better terms
for her departure. She hated Dare, as she
threw her clothes together into her trunks,
and she hated Mrs. Smith, who watched her
do so wnth folded hands and with a lofty-
smile ; but most of all she hated Charles,
whose voice came up to the open window as
he talked to Dare's coachman, already at the
door, about splints and sore backs.

Charles felt a momentary pity for the little
woman when she came down at last with
compressed lips, casting lightning glances at
the grinning servants in the background,
whom she had bullied and hectored over in
the manner of people unaccustomed to
servants, and who were rejoicing in the
ignominy of her downfall.

Her boxes were put in — not carefully.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 27 1

Charles came forward and lifted his cap,
but she would not look at him. Grasping
a little hand-bag convulsively, she went down
the steps, and got up unassisted into the
dog-cart.

" You have left nothing behind, I hope ? "
said Charles civilly, for the sake of saying
somethinof.

" She have left nothing," said Mrs. Smith,
swimming forward with dignity, *' and she
have also took nothing. I have seen to that,
Sir Charles."

" Good-bye, then," said Charles. ** Right,
coachman."

Mrs. Carroll's eyes had been wandering
upw^ards to the old house rising above her
with its sunny windows and its pointed
gables. Perhaps, after all the sordid shifts
and schemes of her previous existence, she
had imagined she might lead an easier and
a more respectable life within those walls.
Then she looked towards the long green
terraces, the valley, and the forest beyond.

272 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Her lip trembled, and turning suddenly she
fixed her eyes with burning hatred on the
man who had ousted her from this pleasant
place.

Then the coachman whipped up his horse,
the dog-cart spun over the smooth gravel
between the lines of stiff, clipped yews, and
she was gone.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 273

CHAPTER XIV.

Mr. Alwynn had returned from his eventful
morning call at Vandon very grave and
silent. He shook his head when Ruth came
to him in the study to ask what the result
had been, and said Dare would tell her him-
self on his return from London, whither he
had gone on business.

Ruth went back to the drawing-room.
She had not strength or energy to try to
escape from Mrs. Alwynn. Indeed, it was
a relief not to be alone with her own thoughts,
and to allow her exhausted mind to be towed
along by Mrs. Alwynn's, the bent of whose
mind resembled one of those mechanical toy
animals which when wound up will run very
fast in any direction, but if adroitly turned,

VOL. II. 36

274 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

will hurry equally fast the opposite way.
Ruth turned the toy at Intervals, and the
morning was dragged through, Mrs. Alwynn
in the course of it exploring every realm —
known to her — of human thought, now
dipping Into the future, and speculating on
spring fashions, now commenting on the
present, now dwelling fondly on the past, the
gaily dressed, officer-adorned past of her
youth.

There was a meal, and after that it was the
afternoon. Ruth supposed that some time
there would be another meal, and then it
would be evening, but It was no good think-
ing of what was so far away. She brought
her mind back to the present. Mrs. Alwynn
had just finished a detailed account of a
difference of opinion between herself and the
curate's wife on the previous day.

*' And she had not a word to say, my dear
not a word, quite Jiors de combat^ so I let
the matter drop. And you remember that
beautiful pig we killed last week ? You

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 275

should have gone to look at It hanging up,
Ruth, rolling In fat, It was. Well, It Is better
to give than to receive, so I shall send her
one of the pork pies. And if you will get
me one of those round baskets which I took
the dolls down to the school-feast In — they
are In the lowest shelf of the oak chest In the
hall — I'll send It down to her at once."

Ruth fetched the basket and put It down
by her aunt. Reminiscences of the school-
feast still remained in it, In the shape of ends
of ribbon and lace, and Mrs. Alwynn began
to empty them out, talking all the time, when
she suddenly stopped short with an exclama-
tion of surprise.

*' Goodness ! Well, now ! I'm sure.
Ruth ! "

*' What Is It, Aunt Fanny ? "

"Why, my dear, if there isn't a letter for
you under the odds and ends," holding it up
and gazing resentfully at it ; " and now I
remember, a letter came for you on the
morning of the school-feast, and I said to

276 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

John, * I shan't forward It, because I shall see
Ruth this afternoon/ and, dear me ! I just
popped It Into the basket, for I thought you
would like to have it, and, you know how
busy I was, Ruth, that day, first one thing
and then another, so much to think of —
and — there it is!'

" I dare say it is of no importance," said
Ruth, taking it from her, while Mrs. Alwynn,
repeatedly wondering how such a thing could
have happened to a person so careful as her-
self, went off with her basket to the cook.

When she returned in a few minutes, she
found Ruth standing by the window, the
letter open in her hand, her face without a
vestige of colour.

"Why, Ruth," she said, actually noticing
the alteration in her appearance ; " is your
head bad again ? "

Ruth started violently.

" Yes — no. I mean — I think I will go
out. The fresh air "

She could not finish the sentence.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 277

^'And that tiresome letter? Did it want
an answer ? "

'' None," said Ruth, crushing it up uncon-
sciously.

'' Well, now," said Mrs. Alwynn, '' that's a
eood thine, for I'm sure I shall never forget
the way your uncle was In once, when I put
a letter of his in my pocket to give him (it
was a plum-coloured silk, Ruth, done with
gold beads in front), and then — I went into
mourning for my poor dear Uncle James,
such an out of the common person he was,
Ruth, and such a beautiful talker, and it was
not till six months later, niece's mourning
you know, that I had the dress on again, and
a business I had to meet it, for all my gowns
seem to shrink when they are put by, and I
put my hand In the pocket, and "

But Ruth had disappeared.

Mrs. Alwynn was perfectly certain at last
that something must be wrong with her
niece. Earlier in the day she had had a
headache. Reasoning by analogy, she decided

278 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

that Ruth must have eaten something at Mrs.
Thursby's dinner-party which had disagreed
with her. If any one was ill she always
attributed It to indigestion. If Mr. Alwynn
coughed, or if she read in the papers that
royalty had been unavoidably prevented
attending some function at which Its presence
had been expected, she Instantly put down
both mishaps to the same cause, and when
Mrs. Alwynn had come to a conclusion it
was not her habit to keep It to herself.

She told Lady Mary the exact state In
which, reasoning always by analogy, she knew
Ruth's health must be, when that lady drove
over that afternoon in the hope of seeing
Ruth, partly from curiosity, or rather a
Christian anxiety respecting the welfare of
others, and partly too from a real feeling of
affection for Ruth herself. Mrs. Alwynn
bored her Intensely, but she sat on and on In
the hope of Ruth's return, who had gone out,
Mrs. Alwynn agreeing with every remark
she made, and treating her with that pleased

SIR CHARLES DAXVERS. 2/9

deference of manner which some middle-class
people, not otherwise vulgar, invariably drop
into in the presence of rank ; a Sylla which
is only one degree better than the Charybdis
of would-be ease of manner into which others
fall. If ever the enormous advantages of
noble birth and ancient family, with all their
attendant heirlooms and hereditary instincts
of refinement, chivalrous feelinof, and honour,
become in future years a mark for scorn (as
already they are a mark for the envy that
calls itself scorn), it will be partly the fault of
the vulgar adoration of the middle classes.
Mrs. Alwynn being, as may possibly have
already transpired in the course of this
narrative, a middle-class woman herself, stuck
to the hereditary instincts of kei^ class with a
vengeance, and when Ruth at last came in
Lady Mary ^vas thankful.

Her cold pale eyes lighted up a little as
she greeted Ruth, and looked searchingly at
her. She saw by the colourless lips and
nervous contraction of the forehead, and by

28o SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

the bright restless fever of the eyes, that had
formerly been so calm and clear, that some-
thing was amiss — terribly amiss.

" I've been telling Lady Mary how poorly
you've been, Ruth, ever since Mrs. Thursby's
dinner-party," said Mrs. Alwynn, by way of
opening the conversation.

But in spite of so auspicious a beginning
the conversation flagged. Lady Mary made
a few conventional remarks to Ruth, which
she answered, and Mrs. Alwynn also ; but
there was a constraint which every moment
threatened a silence. Lady Mary proceeded
to comment on the poaching affray of the
previous night, and the arrest of a man who
had been seriously injured ; but at her mention
of the subject, Ruth became so silent, and
Mrs. Alwynn so voluble, that she felt it was
useless to stay any longer, and had to take
her leave without a word with Ruth.

" Somethinor is wrono^ with that o:irl," she
said to herself, as she drove back to Ather-
stone. " I know what it is. Charles has been

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 251

behavlno^ In his usual manner, and as there Is
no one else to point out to him how Infamous
such conduct Is, I shall have to do it myself.
Shameful ! That charming, Interesting girl !
And yet, and yet ! There was a look In her
face more like some great anxiety than dis-
appointment. If she had had a disappoint-
ment, I do not think she would have let any
one see it. Those Deyncourts are all too
proud to show their feelings, though they
have got them too somewhere. Perhaps on
the whole, considering how excessively dis-
agreeable and scriptural Charles can be, and
what unexpected turns he can give to things,
I had better say nothing to him at present."

The moment Lady Mary had left the
house, Ruth hurried to her uncle's study.
He was not there. He had not yet come in.
She gave a gesture of despair, and flung
herself down in the old leathern chair oppo-
site to his own, on which many a one had
sat who had come to him for help or consola-
tion. All the buttons had been gradually

282 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

worn off that chair by restless or heavy
visitors. Some had been lost, but others —
the greater part, I am glad to say — Mr.
Alwynn had found, and had deposited in a
Sevres cup on the mantelpiece, till the wet
afternoon should come when he and his lone
packing needle should restore them to their
home.

The room was very quiet. On the mantel-
piece the little conscientious silver clock
ticked, orderly, gently (till Ruth could hardly
bear the sound), then hesitated, and struck a
soft low tone. She started to her feet, and
paced up and down, up and down. Would
he never come in ? She dared not go out to
look for him for fear of missing him. Why
did not he come back when she wanted him
so terribly ? She sat down again. She tried
to be patient. It was no good. Would he
rever come ?

She heard a sound, rushed out to meet
him in the passage, and pulled him Into the
study.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 253

'' Uncle John," she gasped, holding out a
letter In her shaking hand. " That man who
was taken up last night was — Raymond. He
is in prison. He is ill. Let us go to him,"
and she explained as best she could that a
letter had only just been found written to
her by Raymond in July, warning her he was
in the neighbourhood of Arleigh, near the
old nurse's cottage, and that she mio^ht see
him at any moment, and must have money
in readiness. The instant she had read the
letter she rushed up to Arleigh, to see her
old nurse, and met her coming down in great
agitation to tell her that Raymond, whom
she had shielded once before under promise
of secrecy, had been arrested the night
before.

In a quarter of an hour Mr. Alwynn and
Ruth were driving swiftly through the dusk

in a close carriage in the direction of D .

On their way they met a dog-cart driving as
quickly in the opposite direction, which grazed
their wheel as it passed ; and Ruth, looking

284 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

out, caught a glimpse, by the flash of their
lamps, of Charles's face, with a look upon It
so fierce and haggard that she shivered In
nameless foreboding of evil, wondering what
could have happened to make him look like
that.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 285

CHAPTER XV.

It was still early on the following morning
that Dare, forgetting, as we have seen, his
promise to Charles, arrived at Slumberleigh
Rectory — so early, that Mrs. Alwynn was still
ordering dinner, or in other words, was dash-
ing from larder to scullery, from kitchen to
dairy, with her usual energy. He was shown
into the empty drawing-room, where, after
pacing up and down, he was reduced to the
society of a photograph album, which in his
present excited condition could do little to
soothe the tumult of his mind. Not that any
discredit should be thrown on Mrs. Alwynn's
album, a gorgeous concern with a golden
Fanny embossed on it, which afforded her
infinite satisfaction, inside which her friends'

286 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

portraits appeared to the greatest advantage,
surrounded by birds and nests and blossoms
of the most vivid and llfedlke colouring.
Mr. Alwynn was encompassed on every side
by kingfishers and elaborate bone nests,
while Ruth's clear-cut face looked out from
among long-tailed tomtits, arranged one on
each side of a nest crowded with eggs, on
which a stronof liorht had been thrown.

Dare was still looking at Ruth's photo-
graph, when Mr. Alwynn came in.

'' Do you wish to speak to Ruth ? " he
asked gravely.

*' Now, at once." Dare was surprised that
Mr. Alwynn, with whom he had been so
open, should be so cold and unsympathetic
in manner. The alteration and alienation
of friends Is certainly one of the saddest and
most inexplicable experiences of this vale of
tears.

" You will find her In the study," continued
Mr. Alwynn. **She is expecting you. I
have told her nothing, according to your

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 287

wish. I hope you will explain everything
to her in full, that you will keep nothing
back."

" I will explain," said Dare ; and he went,
trembling with excitement, into the study.
Fired by Charles's example, he had made a
sublime resolve as he skimmed across the
fields, made it in a hurry, in a moment of
ecstasy, as all his resolutions were made.
He felt he had never acted such a noble part
before. He only feared the agitation of the
moment might prevent him doing himself
justice.

Ruth rose as he came in, but did not
speak. A swift spasm passed over her face,
leaving it very stern, very fixed, as he had
never seen it, as he had never thought of
seeing it. An overwhelming suspense burned
in the dark lustreless eyes which met his
own. He felt awed.

" Well ? " she said, pressing her hands
together, and speaking in a low voice.

'' Ruth," said Dare solemnly, laying his

2 88 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

outspread hand upon his breast and then
extending It In the air, ** I am free."

Ruth's eyes watched him hke one in
torture.

"How?" she said, speaking with diffi-
culty. '' You said you were free before."

" Ah ! " rephed Dare, raising his forefinger,
*' I said so, but it was an error. I go to
Vandon, and she will not go away. I go to
London to my lawyer, and he says she is my
wife."

" You told me she was not."

''It was an error," repeated Dare. '' I had
formerly been a husband to her, but w^e had
been divorced ; it was finished, wound up,
and I thought she was no more my wife.
There is in the English law something extra-
ordinary which I do not comprehend, which
makes an American divorce to remain a
marriage in England."

*' Go on," said Ruth, shading her eyes with
her hand.

" I come back to Vandon," continued Dare

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 289

in a suppressed voice, " I come back over-
whelmed, broken down, crushed under feet ;
and then " — he was becoming dramatic, he
felt the fire kindline — '' I meet a friend, a
noble heart, I confide in him. I tell all to
Sir Charles Danvers " — Ruth's hand was
trembling — " and last night he finds out by
a chance that she was not a true widow when
I marry her, that her first husband was yet
alive, that I am free. This morninor he tells
me all, and I am here."

Ruth pressed her hands before her face,
and fairly burst into tears.

He looked at her in astonishment. He
was surprised that she had any feelings.
Never having shown them to the public in
general, like himself, he had supposed she
was entirely devoid of them. She now
appeared quite dmue. She was sobbing
passionately. Tears came into his own eyes
as he watched her, and then a light dawned
upon him for the second time that da}-.
Those tears were not for him. He folded

VOL. TT. 37

290 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

his arms and waited. How suggestive in
itself is a noble attitude !

After a few minutes Ruth overcame her
tears with a great effort, and raising her head,
looked at him, as if she expected him to
speak. The suspense was gone out of her
dimmed eyes, the tension of her face was
relaxed.

*' I am free," repeated Dare, " and I have
your promise that if I am free you will still
marry me."

Ruth looked up with a pained but resolute
expression, and she would have spoken if he
had not stopped her by a gesture.

*' I have your promise," he repeated. *' I
tell my friend. Sir Charles Danvers, I have it.
He also loves. He does not tell me so ; he
is not open with me, as I with him, but I see
his heart. And yet — figure to yourself — he
has but to keep silence, and I must go away,
I must give up all. I am still married — Oi^ !
— while he But he is noble, he is sub-
lime. He sacrifices love on the altar of

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 29 1

honour, of truth. He tells all to me, his rival.
He shows me I am free. He thinks I do
not know his heart. But it is not only he
who can be noble." (Dare smote himself
upon the breast.) " I also can lay my heart
upon the altar. Ruth " — with great solemnity
— " do you love him even as he loves you ? "

There was a moment's pause.

"I do," she said firmly, "with my whole
heart."

'' I knew it. I divined it. I sacrifice
myself. I give you back your promise. I
say farewell, and voyage in the distance.
I return no more to Vandon. There is no
longer a home for me in England. I leave
only behind with you the poor heart you
have possessed so long ! "

Dare was so much affected by the beauty
of this last sentence that he could say no
more, but even at that moment, as he glanced
at Ruth to see what effect his eloquence had
upon her, she looked so pallid and thin (her
beauty was so entirely eclipsed), that the

292 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

sacrifice did not seein quite so overwhelming'
after all.

She struggled to speak, but words failed
her.

He took her hands and kissed them,
pressed them to his heart (It was a pity there
was no one there to see), endeavoured to say
something more, and then rushed out of the
room.

She stood like one stunned after he had
left her. She saw him a moment later cross
the garden, and flee away across the fields.
She knew she had seen that grey figure and
jaunty grey hat for the last time ; but she
hardly thought of him. She felt she might
be sorry for him presently, but not now.

The suspense was over. The sense of
relief was too overwhelming to admit of any
other feeling at first. She dropped on her
knees beside the writing-table, and locked
her hands together.

''He told,'' she whispered to herself.
'' Thank God ! Thank God 1 "

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 293

Two happy tears dropped on to Mr.
Alwynn's old leather blotting-book, that worn
cradle of many sermons.

Was this the same world ? Was this the
same sun which was shining in upon her ?
What new songs were the birds practising
outside ? A strange wonderful joy seemed
to pervade the very air she breathed, to flood
her inmost soul. She had faced her troubles
fairly well, but at this new great happiness
she did not dare to look ; and with a sudden
involuntary gesture she hid her face in her
hands.

It would be rash to speculate too deeply
on the nature of Dare's reflections as he
hurried back to Atherstone ; but perhaps,
under the very real pang of parting with
Ruth, he was sustained by a sense of the
magnanimity of what, had he put it into
words, he would have called his attitude, and
possibly also by a lurking conviction, which
had assisted his determinaton to resign her,

294 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

that life at Vandon, after the episode of the
American wife's arrival, would be a social
impossibility, especially to one anxious and
suited to shine in society. Be that how it
may, whatever had happened to influence
him most of the chance emotion of the
moment, it would be tolerably certain that in
a few hours he would be sorry for what he
had done. He was still, however, in a state
of mental exaltation when he reached Ather-
stone, and began fumbling nervously with
the garden gate. Charles, who had been
stalking up and down the bowling-green,
went slowly towards him.

*' What on earth do you mean by going off
in that way ? " he asked coldly.

''Ah!" said Dare, perceiving him, "and
she — the — is she gone ? "

" Yes, half an hour ago. Your dog-cart
has come back from taking her to the station,
and is here now."

Dare nodded his head several times, and
stood looking at him.

SIR CHARLES DAN VERS. 295

" I have been to Slumberleigh," he said.

''Yes, contrary to agreement."

" My friend," Dare said, seizing the friend's
limp, unresponsive hand and pressing it, " I
know now why you keep silence last night.
I reason with myself. I see you love her.
Do not turn away. I have seen her. I
have given her back her promise. I give
her up to you whom she loves ; and now —
I go away, not to return."

And then, in the full view of the Ather-
stone windows, of the butler, and of the dog-
cart at the front door. Dare embraced him,
kissinof the blushinsf and disconcerted Charles

o o

on both cheeks. Then, in a moment, before
the latter had recovered his self-possession,
Dare had darted to the dog-cart, and was
driving away.

Charles looked after him in mixed annoy-
ance and astonishment, until he noticed the
butler's eye upon him, when he hastily
retreated, with a heightened complexion, to
the shrubberies.

296 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

CONCLUSION.

It was the last day of October, about a week
after a certain very quiet little funeral had

taken place in the D cemetery. The

death of Raymond Deyncourt had appeared
in the papers a day or two afterwards, without
mention of date or place, and it was generally
supposed that it had taken place some con-
siderable time previously, without the know-
ledge of his friends.

Charles had been sitting for a long time
with Mr. Alwynn, and after he left the
Rectory he took the path over the fields in
the direction of the Slumberleigh woods.

The low sun was shining redly through a
golden haze, was sending long burning shafts
across the glade where Charles was pacing.

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 297

He sat down at last upon a fallen tree to
wait for one who should presently come by
that way.

It was a still clear afternoon, with the
solemn stillness that speaks of coming change.
Winter was at hand, and the woods were
transfigured with a passing glory, like the
faces of those who depart in peace when
death draws ni^h.

Far and wide in the forest the bracken
was all aflame — aflame beneath the glowing
trees. The great beeches had turned to
bronze and ruddy gold, and had strewed the
path with carpets glorious and rare, which
the first wind would sweep away. Upon the
limes the amber leaves still hung, faint yet
loth to go, but the horse chestnut had already
dropped its garment of green and yellow at
its feet.

A young robin was singing at intervals in
the silence, telling how the secrets of the
nests had been laid bare, singing a requiem
on the dying leaves and the widowed branches,

298 SIR CHARLES DAN VERS.

a song new to him, but with the old plaintive
rapture in it that his fathers had been taught
before him since the world began.

She came towards him down the yellow
glade, through the sunshine and the shadow,
with a spray of briony in her hand. Neither
spoke. She put her hands into the hands
that were held out for them, and their eyes
met, orrave and steadfast, with the lio^ht in
them of an unalterable love. So long they
had looked at each other across a gulf. So
long they had stood apart. And now, at last
— at last— they were together. He drew
her close and closer yet. They had no words.
There was no need of words. And in the
silence of the hushed woods, and in the
silence of a joy too deep for speech, the
robin's song came sweet and sad.

" Charles ! "

- Ruth ! "

^' I should like to tell you something."

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 299

"And I should like to hear It."

" I know what Raymond told you to
conceal. I went to him just after you did.
We passed you coming back. He did not
know me at first. He thought I was you,
and he kept repeating that you must keep
your own counsel, and that unless you showed
Mr. Dare's marriage was illegal, he would
never find it out. At last, when he suddenly
recognized me, he seemed horror-struck, and
the doctor came in and sent me away."

Charles knew now why Raymond had sent
for him the second time.

There was a long pause.

" Ruth, did you think I should tell ? "

'' I hoped and prayed you would, but I
knew it would be hard, because I do believe
you actually thought at the time I should
still consider it my duty to marry Mr. Dare,
I never should have done such a thing after
what had happened. I was just going to tell
him so when he began to give me up, and
it evidently gave him so much pleasure to

300 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

renounce me nobly In your favour, that I let
him have it his own way, as the result was
the same. My great dread, until he came,
was that you had not spoken. I had been
expecting him all the previous evening. Oh,
Charles, Charles ! I waited and watched for
his comino- as I had never done before.

o

Your silence was the only thing I feared,
because it was the only thing that could have
come between us."

" God forgive me. I meant at first to say
nothing."

" Only at first," said Ruth gently ; and they
walked on in silence.

The sun had set. A slender moon had
climbed unnoticed into the southern sky amid
the shafts of paling fire which stretched out
across the whole heaven from the burning
fiery furnace in the west. Across the grey
dim fields voices were calling the cattle home.

Charles spoke again at last in his usual
tone.

'' You quite understand, Ruth, though I

SIR CHARLES DAXVER5. 3O1

have not mentioned it so far, that you are
engaged to marry me ? "

"I do. I will make a note of it if you wish."

*' It is unnecessary. I shall be happy,
when I am at leisure, to remind you myself.
Indeed, I may say I shall make a point of
doing so. There does not happen to be any
one else whom you feel it would be your
duty to marry ? "

" I can't think of any one at the moment.
Charles, you never could have believed I
would marry Jiim, after all ! "

" Indeed I did believe it. Don't I know
the stubbornness of your heart .-^ You see,
you are but young, and I make excuses for
you ; but after you have been the object of
my special and judicious training for a few
years, I quite hope your judgment may
improve considerably."

" I trust it will, as I see from your remarks
It will certainly be all we shall have to guide
us both."

302 SIR CHARLES DANVERS.

Postscript. — Lady Mary would not allow
even Providence any of the credit of Charles's
engagement ; she claimed the whole herself.
She called Evelyn to witness that from the
first it had been her work entirely. She
only allowed Charles himself a very secondary
part in the great event, to which she was apt
to point in later years as the crowning work
of a life devoted — under Church direction —
to the temporal and spiritual welfare of her
fellow-creatures ; and Charles avers that a
mention of it in the long list of her virtues
will some day adorn the tombstone which
she has long since ordered to be In readiness.

Molly was disconsolate for many days, but
work, that panacea of grief, came to the
rescue, and it was not long before she was
secretly and busily engaged on a large kettle
holder, with kettle and motto entwined, for
Charles's exclusive use, without which she
had been led to understand his establishment
would be incomplete. When this work of
art was finished, her feelings had become so

I

SIR CHARLES DANVERS. 303

far modified towards Ruth that she consented
to begin another very small and Inferior one
- — merely a kettle on a red ground — for that
interloper, but whether It was ever presented
is not on record.

Vandon Is to let. The erass has o^rown
up again through the niches of the stone
steps. The place looks wild and deserted.
Mr. Alwynn comes sometimes, and looks up
at its shuttered windows and tralllnor, nee-
lected Ivy, but not often, for it gives him a
strange pang at the heart. And as he goes
home the people come out of the dilapidated
cottages and ask wistfully when the new
squire is coming back.

But Mr. Alwynn does not know.

THE END.

PRINTED BY WILLIAAI CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,

LONDON AND BECCLES. G., C. &' Co.

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