Transmigration

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TRANSMIGRATION.

MOETiMEK COLLINS,

AUTHOE OF

"MARQUIS AND MERCHANT,"

&c. &c.

1 Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting :
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar."

Wordsworth.

IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.

LONDON:

HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1874.

All rights reserved.

LONDON:

l'HINTED bY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL,

BLENHEIM HOUSE.

L/7 o )-"<*>

Cf/AT
v,3

TRANSMIGRATION.

CHAPTER I.

WIMBLEDON.

XlXia \rri &>? rjfiepa /j,la.

S. Peter.
Ere we knew what the cause
Of a vacuum was,
It was made by a baby for TaaTqp.

Lord N eaves.

T EDWARD ELLESMERE, died at
-*-5 Beau Sejour, on Five Tree Hill, at
seven in the afternoon of the 29th of June,
1840, being Saint Peter's Day, and a Mon-
day.

I, Reginald Marchmont, was born at

VOL. III. B

2 TRANSMIGKATION.

Marchmont Lodge, Wimbledon, at eleven
in the evening of the 29th of June, 1840?
being Saint Peter's Day, and a Monday.

The interval passed in the planet Mars is
to me utterly inexplicable. I leave it to the
metaphysical reader.

My second experience of the world was
without parallel. I was lying in a cradle in
an airy nursery, lighted from above. I
seemed of a rather red complexion. I
looked around at things in general, having
an unforgotten experience of the world, and
observed that there was another cradle near
me. There were several female folk about.
One of them said, with a fine Irish brogue,
which may be left to the reader's imagina-
tion,

" Well, I hope the master's satisfied now.
He wanted a boy, and he's got two ! Faith,
it's the height of good luck."

TRANSMIGRATION. 6

As I lay there, amid lavendered linen,
the situation dawned on me. I was born
again, without forgetting my past. Most
babies have forgotten everything': I had
forgotten nothing. If my father were to
come and quote Horace to me, I could give
him the next line. But, remembering that
this is a prejudiced age, I decided to keep
very quiet at first. Besides, from the con-
fabulation of the nurses, it would seem there
was a twin . . . and I wanted to see that
twin. So I turned round in my cradle and
fell asleep.

By-and-by I was awaked by laughter, and
a blue-eyed bright-haired little girl came
dancing into the room. She looked quite a
giantess to me in my cradle ; she was three,
at least. She romped about the place right
pleasantly ; her turquoise eyes suited her
festucine hair ; she laughed and sang and

b 2

4 TRANSMIGRATION.

played tricks of all sorts. I, with eyes wide
open in my cradle, studied her philosophi-
cally. I was however very curious to
know what my brother was like, in the
other cradle. Had he any memory of the
past? Or was he merely a common-place
baby ?

" Now, Miss Dot, don't you be trouble-
some," says one of the nurses. And Miss
Dot is turned out of the nursery into some
other room, and I fall back upon my pillow
and reflect. I come to the conclusion
that, for reflexion, there's nothing like a
pillow.

I pass a lazy easy time of it, alternat-
ing between the soft cradle and the nurse's
lap. Dot comes in and out. Dot is
much interested in her little brothers. Dot
little thinks that one of her little brothers
is quite an old, old man. Dot reminds me

TRANSMIGRATION. 5

of somebody. Now who the devil is it?

0, I know. A great day arrives.
Mamma is well enough to come to the
nursery and look at her twins. Mamma
comes ; her husband and her husband's
brother accompany her. Have I seen be-
fore those happy eyes beneath that radiant
hair ? Have I not ? Why, it is Mavis Lee!
But I, being a baby in a cradle, am perfectly
quiet, and think what fun it will be when
I tell her who I am, some day or other.
Yes, little lovely Mavis Lee has married
somebody . . . and I am her son. Do I
regret it ? Emphatically NO !

As I lay in my cradle that night, I be-
came ontological and psychological. Mavis
Lee, not long ago, was a little girl that I
petted ; now she's Mamma : which view of
her character am I to take? Few places
are more favourable for reflexion than a

6 TRANSMIGRATION.

cradle. You pass from the nurse's soft
arms to the sweet sheets amid the basket-
work, and you say to yourself, " I'll leave
prophecies to be solved to-morrow ;" that's
if you're an ordinary baby, under ordinary
conditions. But I wanted to work out the
exquisite identity of Mamma and Mavis. It
was soon done.

I wish words could describe my feelings at
this time. Here was I, who had known
Mavis Lee (now Mavis Marchmont) a mere
girl — and I was a ruddy baby in her mother-
lap. I shared in her affection with my
brother. I was the eldest by an instant —
the heir, therefore, to the Marchmont business
on the Stock Exchange, which . . . well,
the less said of that " which ;' the better.
Even in the cradle, I detested the Stock Ex-
change.

Nursery reminiscences become tiresome.

TRANSMIGRATION. (

Let us move on. My father, with City
cruelty, christened me Reginald, and my
brother Algernon. My Uncle Paul (have I
mentioned my Uncle Paul?) he was senior
wrangler, and wrote Greek iambics like
Sophocles, called me Rex for short. He
didn't shorten Algernon's name ; he didn't
much care about Algernon. When he
gave him a nickname, it was "Whiskers."

Could I only remember, with anything
like accuracy, the experience of the cradle,
with perfect knowledge of the past, and
with my dear lovely Mavis for mamma, it
would be an idyl inimitable. There was
the fact — enough for me — God had renewed
my youth, and given me to Mavis ; she did
not know it. She shall, when the true
time comes.

It was very odd, this general relationship,
which I alone understood. Dear Mavis —

8 TRANSMIGRATION.

the little girl ! Dear Mamuna — so sweet and
kind ! A pretty puzzle this. I had to con-
ceal my knowledge. But the concealment
grew more difficult when I had to deal with
my brother Algy and my sister Kitty. While
I was master of many languages, poor dear
Algy couldn't read. I knew the world,
though I looked a baby ; Kitty knew no-
thing.

To lie in a cradle and gnaw a coral is, I
think, as jolly as any method of wasting
time I know. This I did. I was a marvel
to myself ; but Dot and Algy were to me
greater marvels. It seemed incredible that
I alone should possess any recollection of
the world I had left. And where had my
sister come from ? Who had she been in the
land she had left. Never did I tire of
speculating on these questions ; and the
nursery authorities, surprised at the fact

TRANSMIGRATION. 9

that, while I laughed a great deal, and pon-
dered a great deal, I never by any chance
cried, pronounced me the best baby they
had ever known. There was, however, one
dissentient — Nurse Nora, who came from the
isle of the shamrock, and was as full of tra-
ditions and legends as an egg of meat. She
used to tell her English fellow-servants long
stories in a whisper by the cosy nursery fire,
when Kitty had been put to bed, and Algy
and I were supposed to be asleep in our
cradles. I soon found that I required much
less sleep than an ordinary baby like my
brother ; and when Nora was tale-telling, I
used to lie with my eyes shut, and listen to
interminable stories of banshees, cluricaunes,
fairy mounds, fairy treasure, and a thousand
other imaginative superstitions of Ireland,
familiar to those who have read Croften
Croker's charming work.

1 0 TRANSMIGRATION.

One night, as thus I lay, Nora's whisper
was rather lower than ever. She was talk-
ing about me. Little pitchers have long
ears, and I caught all she said.

" That child's a changeling, I know. The
good people have taken away the mistress's
true son, and left one of themselves instead.
O, I should like to try the brewery of
eggshells upon him."

" Why, what's that, Nora?" whispered one
of the girls.

" If you want to know if a child is a
changeling, put a pot on the fire, and fill it
with eggshells and water, and at the same
time put the poker between the bars to get
rod-hot. Stir up the eggshells, and presently
the baby '11 cry out, 'What's that you're doing,
nurse ?' ' I'm brewing eggshells, my darling,'
says you. Then the fairy will say, 'Well,
I'm nigh a thousand years old, and I never

TRANSMIGRATION. 11

heard of brewing eggshells yet !' Then you
fetch the poker out of the fire, and run at
the creature, and it'll vanish out of window,
and in the cradle you'll find the right baby,
smiling as peacefully as heart could wish."

I could see the English nursemaids — there
were three — shuddering with half credulous
fright. I was thinking all the time what
fun it would be if I (who, of course, had as
yet no right to talk) were to make, at the
end of Nora's story, some startling remark.
But my cradle-cogitations had determined me
not to reveal my peculiar condition to any
one — for a very long time, at least. I was
partly actuated by the conviction that the
world would vote me a lunatic if, when of
sufficient age, I should proclaim the truth
about myself . . . but chiefly by my desire
to continue as long as possible in this highly
rare, if not unprecedented incognito, and to

12 TRANSMIGRATION.

test thoroughly the effect on a human career
of remembering the career which had gone
immediately before it.

Still Nora's theory was so irresistible that
I could not restrain a smothered laugh ; and
the way in which those servant-girls were
startled thereby was amusing. They all
jumped up to look at me. I was lying with
my eyes wide open, calmly gazing on the
ceiling. There were two or three ejacula-
tions of surprise ; but the Irish girl only
shook her head mysteriously, as who should
say, "You see I was right."

I believe the brewery of eggshells would
have been tried, but Mamma was in and out
of the nursery so often that the maids had
no chance of attempting the experiment.
But I could see Nora often gazing at me
with a curious mixture of inquiry and dread.
Evidently that imaginative little Irishwoman

TRANSMIGRATION. 13

had quite made up her mind that I was a
changeling. It is creditable to the well-
know acuteness of the Irish mind that she
at least discovered that there was something
in me different from other babies.

I go on now to the child life which I led
with the kindest of mothers, and Dot the
Second, and Algernon. It was as happy as
health, love, and money could make it. It
was passed, the first part of it, in my father's
house at Wimbledon — a real mansion, that
he had built himself, and furnished sumptu-
ously.

14

CHAPTER II.

CHILD-LIFE.

" The child is father of the man."

T) EMINISCENCES of ordinary childhood
-*-** in after-life are usually of a vague and
dubious character. Indeed, the happy days
of infancy are of so gossamer a texture that
the hot sun of life's noon disperses it, as the
morning cobwebs on the grass vanish in the
heat of day. Unconscious happiness of this
kind leaves no trace, except by moulding
the mind and form, and causing the man-
ners to be gentle, and the vision clear, and

TRANSMIGRATION. 15

the temper calm. But the early troubles
of life are apt to leave unpleasant recollec-
tions : floggings and fevers, accidents and
horrors, are apt to haunt the memory at in-
tervals. A scar lasts as long as the body
lasts ; often indeed increases with age ; but
youthful happiness is simply shown in after-
life by the absence of scars from both mind
and body.

With me, in this my second avatar, things
are different. Rambling about under the
fine trees of our own large garden, or over
the wide expanse of the Common, I noted
down everything with an intellect as mature
as when I studied under the unseen influ-
ence of Doctor Romayne. To my brother,
and even to Kitty, the glassy pools of Wim-
bledon seemed great lakes ; but I, though
my small stature magnified them physically,
was able, through an effort of comparison,

1 6 TRANSMIGRATION.

to make out their size pretty well. I had
experienced something like it before, when,
in the planet Mars, my vision lengthened,
and I had to learn a new scale of distances.
Besides, I had what may be called a unit of
measurement. My mind's eye carried al-
ways the maiden, Mavis Lee : I saw that she
was unaltered, save by a pleasant plump-
ness, in the matron, Mavis Marchmont. So
I used Mamma as my standard, she, dear
creature, little guessing that she was mathe-
matically treated by her boy.

Not that I always treated her mathe-
matically. Truth to say, the present often
passed from my eyes, and I thought of Five
Tree Hill and Saint Apollonia's Chapel by
the laughing stream, and my pretty pupil,
so loth to leave it all for the old-fashioned
comfortable home of the sober stockbroking
uncle. I marvelled what had become of

TRANSMIGRATION. 17

that uncle. He had not yet been mentioned
in my hearing.

However, a day arrived when I beheld
him again in the flesh. It should be pre-
mised that my father gave great entertain-
ments to his city friends and clients at in-
tervals— banquets at which were served
•wines of rare vintages, and where the cut
flowers and dessert-fruit would cost fifty
pounds at a time. I knew this, for I saw
the preparations and heard the servants'
gossip ; and, as Algy and 1 lay in our two
white beds, we used to hear the carriages
driving to the door . . . the dinner-hour
usually being nine !

One summer day there was to be one of
these festivities ; and in the afternoon we
three children, instead of being allowed to
take our usual run upon the Common, were
dressed up rather smartly, and taken by one

VOL. III. c

18 TRANSMIGRATION.

of the maids into the garden. On the lawn
there is a great plane-tree, lovely as that
which Xerxes hung with jewels priceless —
for no tree grows more nobly in London
and its vicinage than the Asiatic plane.
Under this tree I beheld, pleasantly seated
around a table, whereon were tall bottles
of light wine, and plates of summer fruit,
my father and mother, and uncle Paul . . .
and Mr. Arundel Lee. Older and feebler
than when I saw him last, he was yet unmis-
takeably the same. The lights and shadows
dropt through the flat leaves, moved by a
soft south wind, upon his bald head and
gold-rimmed spectacles, upon my mother's
soft fair hair, and the red rose in the bosom
of her white dress, on my father's gay and
jolly face, which always gave one the im-
pression that stockbroking must be rather
fun than otherwise, rather like a game of

TRANSMIGRATION. .19

cricket than a dry matter of business, upon
Uncle Paul's thoughtful olive countenance,
lighted up by quick brown eyes, that seemed
to look into depths of space, yet somehow
saw everything close at hand. He may
have been thinking of stars, but he never
missed a flower.

"So these are the little people," said Mr.
Arundel Lee. I found afterwards that he
had been abroad for his health for some
years, travelling from spa to spa, and so
had never seen my brother and me. "The
boys are not much alike for twins. I think
this one's most like you, Mavis," he con-
tinued, putting his hand on my shoulders.

Now this set me thinking. I had often
noticed that Algy was a deal more like Papa
than I was. It suddenly occurred to me at
this instant that, when little Mavis grew to
be my pupil at Five Tree Hill, she came to

c 2

20 TRANSMIGRATION.

have a look in her eyes, an expression in
her face, that reminded me of myself, as I
appeared in a remarkably good miniature
on ivory, taken when I was in the Guards.
I remembered speculating on the formative
power of mind over matter, and writing
down some desultory thoughts thereon.

" There is a decided likeness about the
eyes and mouth," said my uncle, thought-
fully; "but Dot's such an image of her
mother, that I did not notice it till Mr. Lee
saw it. As to Algy, lie's the very picture
of you, Charlie."

"I hope he'll do as well," quoth Mr.
Lee. " It's early times to talk of such
tilings, but I suppose you'll put both the
youngsters on the Exchange ?"

"There's nothing like it," said my father.
" Still there is a matter to be considered,
and that's a young fellow's natural capacity.

TRANSMIGRATION. 21

You and I, Mr. Lee, make our money easy
enough. If Paul had gone on 'Change,
though he's no end of a mathematician I'm
told, he'd have ruined himself in a month.
So I must wait till these heroes have some
character to show, before I come to any
decision."

I thought I could have helped papa to a
decision at once in my case.

"There's much in that, much in that,"
quoth Mr. Lee, oracularly. " Well, you know,
Marchmont, all I've got — and I'm sure I
don't know how much it is — belongs to
Mavis : but I don't want to tie it up, so that
you can't make use of it, for you know how
to make money : and I want to talk to you
some day quietly, about the feasibility of an
arrangement by which you shall have the
use of the principal, with some sort of clause
giving the bulk of it to either of the boys

22 TRANSMIGRATION.

that becomes a stockbroker, or dividing
between them if both do. I want to do it
soon ; for I haven't made any will, and I may
go off at a moment's notice."

" 0, Uncle Arundel," cried Mamma, spring-
ing from her chair, " don't talk about money
and death on a sweet summer day like this.
Let me give you some more hock and a few
grapes."

"You're as wild as a bird," he said, " and
I believe the outlandish name poor Tom
gave you means a thrush. This hock of
yours, Marchmont, is better than any I can
buy ; and hock is the only wine my doctor
will let me touch. Not a glass of port !" he
added, plaintively.

" I'll send you over a few dozen to-
morrow," said my father. " I have an im-
mense lot, bought cheap when Riqueti the
wine-merchant failed. It is Johannisberger
of 1840."

TRANSMIGRATION. 23

"Thanks," said my bland great-uncle.
Then, in a whisper, " I shall see you in the
City to-morrow."

We children all the while were romping
on the cool grass, eating fruit, and having
plenty of fun. I quite enjoyed being a
child again, and found not the slightest dif-
ficulty in acting, and even thinking, like a
child. Kitty loved me better than she loved
Algy; being three years older than we, she
assumed a right to tyrannize over us. I gave
an amused submission, like Lord Derby's
immortal navvie ; but Algy rebelled, and
used to cry, and tell the nurse that Kitty
had been pulling his hair or pinching him.
I began to fear there was a touch of mean-
ness in Algernon's character.

Presently the conversation of our elders
took another turn. Mr. Arundel Lee, en-
livened perhaps by Johannisberger that no

24 TRANSMIGRATION.

man would shame by a supernaculum, was
again laughing at Mamma's unusual name.

" Christian names have something to do
with people's characters, or I should never
have found you at Five Tree Hill, taking
lessons in all sorts of absurd things from a
half-cracked old baronet, who had lived
alone with his books till he might have
been bound in calf."

Me!

0 great-uncle ! How I should like to
break out and say a word or two. To
prevent accident, I filled my mouth
with the very biggest strawberry I could
find.

" He was the wisest man I ever knew,"
said my mother, simply.
Me!

1 was glad I had half choked myself
with that huge strawberry.

TRANSMIGRATION. 25

"He was an uncommonly good fellow,
Mavis," said my father.

Me!

" He must have been a very remarkable
man, from all we hear of his history," added
Uncle Paul.

Me!

" Well," said Mr. Arundel Lee, laughing,
" I did not mean to raise such a storm of
indignation. I found him a perfect gentle-
man, certainly. But he was rather odd,
you know, Mavis, and so I don't wonder
you are rather odd sometimes."

Mamma laughed merrily. I thought the
old gentleman rather rude in his attempts
at humour. But wasn't I proud of Mamma's
opinion of her tutor and son ? Faith, I could
hardly sleep that night !

Indeed, I did not sleep much, for various
causes. I lay awake listening to the car-

26 TRANSMIGRATION.

riages crunching the gravel as the guests
began to arrive. Then I speculated as to
who were there, and what Mr. Arundel Lee
would say, and how Mamma was dressed.
Then I wondered what would happen if I
walked downstairs in my night-shirt, and
gave the assembled party a condensed nar-
rative of my former existence.

After this I fell into a doze, and dreamt
of Five Tree Hill, and was abruptly wakened
by the noise of departing carriages. One
or two o'clock, I conjectured. Very often,
on sleepless nights, I would creep out of
bed, and open my door quietly, and look at
the clock in the hall below, which was
always lighted. I did so now. It was just
two.

I stood by the balustrade and looked
down on the gay folk departing. As I
stood I heard Uncle Paul's musical voice.

TRANSMIGRATION. 27

" You don't seem very well, Mr. Lee, so
you must let me go home with you. I am a
young man, you know ; what time I go to
bed is no consequence."

" You'll find it out when you're older,"
growled Mr. Lee.

" I wish you'd sleep here, uncle," said
Mamma.

"No; I'm well enough. But this mad-
cap may come if he likes, and I'll give him
some refreshment at the end of the journey.
Come along, sir ! Good night, Mavis."

I crept back to bed, and this time slept
soundly and dreamlessly.

When morning came, and a couple of
maids entered the room to look after our
baths and dressing, I noticed a scared ex-
pression on their faces, especially on that of
Irish Nora, who had stuck faithfully to the
family. As they manipulated us they talked

28 TRANSMIGRATION.

in whispers, and positively forgot to put
soap into our eyes.

" Ah, poor old gentleman 1 " Nora said.
" Wasn't it sudden ? And Mr. Paul back
here only an hour ago, dead tired with
getting doctors and all. Well, he was a
good old gentleman, and I wish he had
been of the true Church, for he gave me a
sovereign after I brought him the children
to see, and I'd have spent it in masses
for his soul : but it would be no use to
waste it on a Protestant."

Something evidently had happened to
Mr. Arundel Lee. The household was so
upset that I did not see Mamma till the
afternoon. Then she was crying too much
than to tell us more than that her poor
dear uncle was dead. When I made out
the story it came to this : Uncle Paul had
gone home with him because he looked a

TRANSMIGRATION. 29

little fagged. He slept all the way to Clap-
ham. My uncle and the footman helped
him into the hall ; there he was obliged to
sit down ; in a few moments he became
apoplectic, and was quite gone by the time
a doctor could be brought to him.

So Mr. Arundel Lee died intestate after
all ; and, as my mother was his only direct
relation, the immense property became my
father's.

Algy and I had to sit in a funeral coach
when Mr Lee was buried ; and Algy cried
with fright all the way. I did my best to
console him, reflecting on the folly of send-
ing young children to funerals.

Being a bad hand at dates, I cannot say
how old we were at that time. An approxi-
mation may be obtained from the fact that
till we were put into mourning we had
never worn trousers. Algy's fright at the

30 TRANSMIGRATION.

funeral did not prevent his being very vain
of his new habiliments — so vain that he
made Dot laugh, though she grew solemn
and sorrowful again on the instant, and re-
buked him for his levity. As for me, I had
too much enjoyed the airy linen of child-
hood to rejoice in black broadcloth.

31

CHAPTER III.

THE GOVERNESS.

Besides — though 'tis hardly worth while to put that in —
There are two little boys . . . but they only learn Latin.

John Parry.

/^vNE day my father took holiday. It
^S was after one of his great dinners, and
he had been rather tired. He could well
afford to take holiday now, for Mr. Arundel
Lee's large property had enabled him great-
ly to extend a business already enormous ;
so he was far less regular in the city than
heretofore, leaving very much to his part-
ners ; and he talked of buying or building a

32 TRANSMIGRATION.

country house, and becoming a country
gentleman. He had the look of one, in
those pleasant eyes and with that stalwart
form, far more than of a City man. My mother
was eager that he should carry out this idea,
for she tired of the heavy ceremonious din-
ners and the eternal interchange of visits.
Mavis Lee, whose soul had been coloured
by the pure atmosphere of Five Tree Hill,
was not likely to enjoy life in a London
suburb, all hurry and ostentation.

On this particular holiday, my father lay
long in bed. He is by nature luxurious, as
are many men whose energy when aroused
is indefatigable. I remember we children
were summoned to his room as he lay in
royal indolence, forgetful of stocks and
shares — a spacious lofty many-windowed
room, with appliances fit for a prince. He
had on a table b}^ his bedside a cup of fra-

TRANSMIGRATION. 66

grant chocolate; the smell of that liquid
(which I myself have never been able to
drink) always recalls that morning. Scents
act strongly on the memory. He talked
much nonsense to us, as was his wont — and
no man talked nonsense better in those plea-
sant days. Then he said to Mamma, who
was sitting by a window in matutine dishabille,
with a book in her hand (it was Bacon's
Essays),

" Mavis, I'll breakfast under the plane
tree to-day ; the young uns can make it their
dinner. Is Paul here?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I wouldn't let him
go to the Temple last night, though he pre-
tended he had a lot of business to do."

" I am glad of that. By Jove, it's twelve
o'clock ! Run away, you kids, and I'll have
my bath."

We ran away, and were soon in the

VOL. III. d

34 TRANSMIGRATION.

wildest part of the grounds. Kitty and
Algy insisted on my telling them a story —
they had found out that I either knew or
could invent all manner of narrative absur-
dities, and they worried me perpetually into
telling them tales. I found it an infinite
bore. Luckily on this occasion the servants
were in search of us before I could get be-
yond uOnce upon a time."

It was a jolly day this. My father, who,
like most men of sanguine temperament, had
a great gift of sleep, had washed away his
fatigue in the hypnotic ocean. He was like
a giant refreshed, and sat down to his
breakfast with that giant appetite which is
somehow infectious, and makes other people
eat more than they intended. We young-
sters had quite an unusual, and doubtless
unhealthy, dinner ; we had kidneys in cham-
pagne, and lobster mayonnaise, and dishes

TRANSMIGRATION. 35

hot with pepper, and dishes chilled with
ice. I found that my palate took these
things readily, whence I judged that the soul
rather than the body must be the seat of
taste. Observing Dot and Algy scientifi-
cally, it appeared to me that they ate
greedily enough, but did not quite like it.

Pondering on this, I came to a second
query : If the soul is the seat of taste, does
it also control digestion ? I felt sure that
Dot and Algy would very soon have — well
— stomach-aches ; should I ? I ate as much
as I possibly could, to test this question fairly.

I also drank as much as I could, to test a
third problem. My father, who was in his
gayest humour, insisted (though Mamma
protested) on giving us small glasses of
champagne; and I think that, by adroit
contrivance, I got twice as much as my
brother and sister together.

36 TRANSMIGRATION.

The result of these experiments gave ine
great satisfaction, proving my theory to he
right as to the power of the soul over the
body. Dot and Algy both grew flushed
and noisy and pert ; they said saucy things
to Mamma; they were childishly ebrious.
Suddenly they subsided into feeling very
poorly, and crying, and wanting to go to
bed. They went, ignominiously. I re-
mained, being in my usual state, and feeling
that I could wind up with something devil-
led and a bottle of good claret.

" Ah !" methought, " when I grow up to
the publishing age, and irrefragably prove
to the world by this experiment that the
soul is master of the body, what a stride
metaphysics will make I"

It did not strike me, in my wisdom of
childhood, that probably the world would
altogether disbelieve my story.

TRANSMIGRATION. 37

" I told you not to be so foolish, Charlie,"
said Mamma, looking ready to cry. " Those
children will be quite ill, poor dear little
things !"

" Why, look at Rex !" said Papa, with a
laugh. " I've been watching the grave little
rogue. He's eaten more than Dot and
Whiskers together, and there's nothing in
the world the matter with him. Is there,
Paul ?"

"I think not," said my uncle. "I sup-
pose he has a strong constitution, for the
quantity he has eaten and drunk would
have been quite enough to make me feel
uncomfortable."

How I rejoiced in this spontaneous testi-
mony to the truth of my theory ! I don't
think anybody of my age ever devoted him-
self so heartily to science !

"Cheer up, Mavis!" said Papa; "the

38 TRANSMIGRATION.

young monkeys will be right enough with a
little saline medicine. But now, about what
we were saying. It is time they were out
of the hands of nursemaids. I don't believe
even Kitty knows her alphabet — to say no-
thing of the catechism and the multiplication
table. They ought to have a governess till
we pack them off to school. What do you
think, Mavis ?"

" I suppose you are right, but I don't
want a governess in the house ; she would
be so much in the way. Why, my dear
Charlie, one of the chief subjects of conver-
sation with the ladies who call here is their
troubles with governesses. It seems to me
that they are either very clever, and know
too much by half, and expect to be equal
and familiar with the mistress of the house —
or otherwise they are desperately ignorant,
and the very servants laugh at them. 0, 1
dread a governess !"

TRANSMIGRATION. 39

" Au intelligent nursery governess would
do, I should think, to begin with. She
would be quite free from those objections.
What do you think, Paul ?" said my father.

" I don't agree with either of you," Uncle
Paul replied. " Observe what you want for
these children. They require sound element-
ary training — not much instruction just now,
but right instruction. Fancy a nursery
governess having the remotest idea of how
to teach arithmetic or geography or history !
She would make the children learn tables
and all the capes of Europe and all the
kings of England — and they would get a
vague notion that sixteen ounces multiplied
by Cape Finisterre produced Henry VIII."

My father and mother laughed heartily.
Uncle Paul went on :

"There is no reason, sister Mavis, why
a governess should be at either one or the
other extreme your lady visitors describe so

40 TRANSMIGRATION.

vividly. A lady, as governess, would be only
too anxious not to intrude on your privacy,
while she might be trusted to enforce respect
from servants. These boys, you know,
ought to get through the Latin accidence
before they are sent to school, and the first
book of Euclid would not hurt them, and
they ought to get an accurate outline no-
tion of the geography and history of England.
That's enough to start them with ; an intel-
ligent gentlewoman would teach them that
in .a year, while Dot would be learning
everything a young lady ought to know."

"Where shall we find vour intelligent
gentlewoman?" asked my father. "Though
I fear, if you found her, Mavis would spoil
her ; she'd make too great a pet of such a
paragon."

Uncle Paul paused, as if doubtful whether
to proceed.

TRANSMIGRATION. 4 1

" I think I know the very person, if she
would consent to come."

" Consent !" said my father.

" Yes ; she is not looking for a situation,
but I have told her she would be wise to take
one. She is strangely placed. Her father,
whom I first knew through a college friend, is
Rector of Lytheby in Norfolk : he is, I think,
the cleverest man I ever knew ; he is, I am
certain, the weakest. He was married in his
youth to a superior woman, who took charge
of him, kept him straight, suggested texts
for his sermons and themes for his books, and
made him a good reputation. He had a
fair amount of private property ; indeed the
advowson of Lytheby is his own by inheri-
tance. His only child by his first wife was
a daughter, Annie — the girl I think may
suit you. She learnt almost everything
from her father and mother ; I tell her she

42 TRANSMIGRATION.

is a regular Universal Dictionary ; but she is
not a bit spoilt or pedantic."

" How old is she ?" asked mamma.

" Somewhere about five-and-twenty," re-
plied Uncle Paul, " so far as I can judge.
She isn't pretty, but she is very gentle and
quiet. She reminds me of Shakespeare's
Cordelia."

" One would think you were in love with
her, Paul," said my father, who listened
lazily while he smoked a cigar.

I was watching my uncle all the time he
spoke, eating peaches the while. I never
at any age disliked peaches. When mine
uncle was talking, those dreamy eyes so
brightened into stars, those mobile lips so
changed with every word, that to watch him
was for me an excitement. I could see an
expression of intense pain cross his sensitive
face as he heard Papa speak those words.
But he went on, quietly :

TRANSMIGRATION. 43

" Not at all. I pity her heartily. Her
father, tired possibly of being kept straight
by a superior woman, in less than a year
went crooked, and married a very inferior
one. She was the daughter of his house-
keeper, an impudent red-faced ignorant
baggage of sixteen. She leads the poor
weak Rector a dreadful life ; he is infatuated
with the hussy, and obeys her like a slave.
She tried to treat Annie as if she were a
servant. Annie, loth to leave her father,
though she has enough from her mother to
live very quietly, did all she could by way
of keeping peace. But it was useless. One
day this insolent wench, who is as strong as
a horse, positively boxed poor gentle Annie's
ears "

" The wretch !" said my mother.

" Thereupon Annie came quietly away,
being prevented from seeing her father, and

44 TRANSMIGRATION.

is now staying with a friend in London. I
advise her, though she has about a hundred
and fifty a year of her own, to find some oc-
cupation that will cause her to forget her
feeling of loneliness."

" That parson must be an awful fool,
Paul," said my father. " You have not told
us his name."

" He is not a fool. He has one of the
strongest clearest intellects I know. But he
is devoid of will. Tell him a thing to be
done, and he will do it better than anyone
of whom I have experience."

"He is simply an intellectual machine,"
said Mamma. " He cannot have more soul
than one of those calculating machines."

" I think you are right," laughed my
uncle. " The Reverend Roger Keith — that's
his name — is a machine. But Annie isn't ;
she's a true girl, with a fine intellect un-

TRANSMIGRATION. 45

usually well cultivated ; and I should like
to have that wretched wench put in the
pillory that dared to assault her."

" Let her come here if she likes," said
Manama. " Charlie will settle about
salary."

" By Jove !" exclaimed my father at this
point, " that boy has eaten all the peaches.
He'll be ill."

" No, I shan't, Papa," I said. " It's a waste
of time."

" That young imp wants a governess," was
the parental rejoinder.

The governess came in a few days, by
which time my brother and sister had re-
covered from the effects of their gluttony.
She was a quiet young lady, dressed in grey,
with very thougthful eyes, and hair of a
soft light brown. When I saw her meek
and gentle expression, I longed to go into

46 TRANSMIGRATION.

Norfolk and inflict physical violence on the
gross animal that had assaulted her. But,
reflecting: that I should suffer ignominious
defeat at the hands of such a virago, I de-
cided to leave it till I should grow bigger.

We were introduced to Miss Annie Keith
in my mother's private room — not a bou-
doir at all, but a room of books, paintings,
sketches with pen and pencil, ferns and
fancies, follies and flowers. There they
were drinking tea from dainty china, with
accessory shreds of bread and butter.
Such a contrast! Annie the essence of
loving gentleness; Mamma the essence of
loving power. I marvelled what would
have happened to that audacious hoyden if
she had attempted to assault my mother.
There was a strong high spirit in Mavis
Marchmont's bright eye and curved resolute
mouth.

TRANSMIGRATION. 47

Kitty and Algy did not fancy Miss Keith
for a governess as I did. Of course they
had not heard her sad story; and could
not have understood it if they had.

As to my mother, she fell in love with
her at once.

48

M1

CHAPTER IV.

FROM HOME TO SCHOOL.
" Maxima debetur reverentia pueris."

ISS ANNIE KEITH very soon be-
came a favourite member of our
household, combining gentleness with firm-
ness and simplicity with knowledge in a
manner most unusual. My complete allegi-
ance she had from the first. She soon
obtained the confidence of Dot and Algy,
and managed their different tempers capital-
ly. Dot was quick and bright, and some-
times saucy ; Algy was slow and lazy, and

TRANSMIGRATION. 49

apt to be sulky. Miss Keith seemed to
know some magic method of dealing with
each temperament successfully.

Then she was of infinite service to my
mother, saving her half the trouble of
household management. She was one of
those women who organize by instinct, and
never fail to find a resource in any difficulty.
The lonely and thoughtful maidenhood of
Mavis Lee had not been at all a fit preparation
for domestic economy on a large scale ;
everything of the kind bored her ; and it
was a wonderful relief to her mind, this
having a lady on whom she could depend to
direct the machinery of the establishment.
Papa and Uncle Paul often laughed at her
about it — reminding her of her dread of a
governess, who must either be a fine lady,
or sink to the servile level.

The relation between my father and uncle

VOL. III. e

50 TRANSMIGRATION.

was curious. My father, possessing to per-
fection the business intellect, would have
made money in anything he attempted ; at
this moment he was looking; forward with
enthusiasm to the time when he should
purchase an estate, and farm the land
himself, and elevate the condition of the
labourers, and prove to country gentlemen
that a man may make his own land pay.
As I have said, he took business as a boy
takes cricket; he knew the game "all
round ; " he was the W. E. Grace of the
Stock Exchange. My uncle, on the other
hand, was student and thinker, pure and
simple; he looked on business as a dreary
toil for sordid ends. He studied the world
around him, human and sub-human ; studied
character in society and the streets ; knew
the habits of all wild flowers and birds ; yet
had a higher vision — a dream of subtle

TRANSMIGRATION. 51

science, which was to solve the most difficult
problem of life.

Notwithstanding this contrast of cha-
racter, the brothers were the fastest of
friends. My uncle was at the bar without
practice, and had chambers in the Temple,
and wrote in many ways with many signa-
tures, pouring out the strong superfluity of
an ever-active mind. His mind was no pool,
but a fresh well-spring, always in overflow.
But his London literature and his abstract
studies did not prevent him from passing
many hours daily at Marchmont Lodge, and
it really seemed as if neither ray father nor
my mother could do without him. His
chivalrous devotion to my mother was very
pretty to see.

Years later I learnt that he had loved my
mother. When my father became intimate
with old Mr. Lee, he made up his mind pretty

e 2

52 TRANSMIGRATION.

quickly as to that gentleman's niece ; and
there is reason to believe that her mind also
moved rapidly on that occasion. At any
rate an engagement was soon made, to Mr.
Arundel Lee's great delight ; he had been in
terror lest his niece should marry out of the
Stock Exchange.

Soon after the engagement was actually
made, Paul Marchmont came from Cam-
bridge crowned with the highest scholastic
honours. My father took him to Mr. Lee's,
and he used to dine there pretty regularly in
the days that preceded the marriage. But
at last he struck.

" I'm not going over to Clapham to-
morrow," he said to his brother.

" Why the devil not ? " said Charlie
Marchmont. " If you are not there to talk
to prosy old Lee, I shall have to do it, and
what will Mavis say?"

TRANSMIGRATION. 53

" I am not going," he repeated, doggedly.
" I'll never go there again until you're
married."

My father opened his eyes in amazement.

" What do you mean ?"

" Well, my dear Charlie, I'll tell you.
Your Mavis is too beautiful, too charming in
every way, for any man to see her and not
love her. I am not the man, at any rate. If
she were not yours, I should try to win her ;
but she is yours, so I shall run away from
her too perilous beauty. Help me : say I
am gone on a secret mission to San Francisco,
or any other remote place. I will come
back when you are married. When she is
my sister, I shall take her hand with no
tremulous feeling, and shall try to serve her
in knightly fashion."

My father could hardly understand this
feeling. He was a little puzzled.

54 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Do you really mean, Paul, that you are
in love with Miss Lee ?"

" No : emphatically no. I merely feel that
I should be compelled to love her if I saw
her very often. I merely feel that if she
were engaged to any man but you, Charlie,
I'd take her away from him, even if I had
to kill him in doing it. I merely feel that I
must go away somewhere and try to forget
that perilous face, though it will haunt me
all the time."

"You are an odd fellow, Paul," said my
father. "Have your own way. But will
you not have the same feeling when we are
married?"

" 0 dear no," he answered quickly. " All
will be changed ! Mavis will be my sister.
The mad fancy I have now will be extin-
guished, annihilated. You may trust me,
Charlie."

TRANSMIGRATION. 55

" I trust you, Paul. Let it be as you say.
I will invent some fiction that will satisfy
Mavis ; but, 0 dear me, what shall I do
with old Lee after dinner ?"

I heard most of this from my uncle, in
after-years, when he and I had become very
fast friends. He placed the narrow sea be-
tween himself and his fair tormentor, and
took refuge in the little island of Sark.
Amid its wild scenery her unique face haunt-
ed him ; he came suddenly back to Southamp-
ton, and buried himself in the ferny depths
of the New Forest. Wandering one day near
the Twelve Apostles, he met a gipsy — a man
nearer seventy than sixty, though his hair
was dark and his form erect a,nd his limbs
lisson. They got into talk — the gipsy asked
to look at his palm.

" You have loved and lost," he said ;
" you will love and win."

56 TRANSMIGRATION.

My uncle could never quite understand
the force of that prediction, though it was
clear enough to me. He, lover of truth,
of wisdom, of beaut}^ by means of that love
won happiness.

Mamma was always thinking he ought to
fall in love with Annie Keith. All women
worth anything are match-makers ; and
Mamma was so delighted with Annie that
she thought her fit bride for even a senior
wrangler, though probably she did not quite
know the meaning of that dignity. But nei-
ther my uncle nor Miss Keith was mar-
riageably inclined; so Mamma's scheme
foiled.

I was very much amused with Miss Annie
Keith as a governess. It was clear that I
puzzled her. She had never seen such a
boy. She taught capitally ; and as she
was teaching things which I knew a great

TRANSMIGRATION. 57

deal better than she did, I was a pretty
fair judge. Kitty, being three years our
senior, and just at the age when girls like
learning and boys hate it, was quite proud
of her superiority to us. We were to learn
Latin — of course she decided to learn Latin
too. It was pretty to see how she cantered
through declensions and conjugations — it
was painful to see Algy shirking his fences,
and finding it imposible to believe that the
Romans could have been such fools as to
conjugate their verbs in four ways, when
one would amply have sufficed. As for me,
I tried to look as if I had never seen a Latin
verb before, and made the most ludicrous
mistakes, and did my best to maintain a
character for that hatred of learning which
is the healthy privilege of boyhood. Girls
and men never have it, being inferior
animals. I resisted more temptation in

58 TRANSMIGRATION.

this second childhood of mine than ever in
my first avatar. I longed often to tell Dot
and Whiskers, and even Miss Keith, what
dreadful blunders they were making with
their Latin and arithmetic. But I resisted,
and blundered as much myself as possibly I
could, and wondered how it was my blun-
ders were not discovered.

I fear I astonished gentle Annie Keith.
Having to suppress my actual self, I was
often in extremes. Sometimes I was very
clever — sometimes terribly stupid. She
most certainly regarded me as a regular
problem.

However, the months moved on, and we
lived and laughed and learnt lessons toge-
ther, and I managed to conceal my secret.
But I began to think a man ought to be a
most accomplished actor in order to play
the child with anything like success.

TRANSMIGRATION. 59

My father, having made up his mind to
turn country gentleman as soon as possible,
was wont to look through the advertise-
ments of the Times every morning in search
of places to be sold. Well I remember a
pleasant spring morning, when we were all
at breakfast together — Miss Keith presiding
over tea and coffee, as was the regular cus-
tom, Papa petting Kitty as he read his
paper, Mamma lazily lounging in an easy-
chair by the fire, and expecting Algy and
me to bring to her little table what she
wanted — when my father suddenly crum-
pled up his Times, and said,

" The very place ! I shall go and see it
to-day."

" A place in the country that you like,
Charlie?" said Mamma. "How delicious!"

" Ah !" he said, standing up by the fire-
place, "you want to go, I know. Well,

60 TRANSMIGRATION.

this seems the very place. It is Romayne
Court, near Redborough, where old General
Romayne used to live, who died a few
months ago, nearly ninety. It seems, from
what I hear, that he had only one son, who
died before him : and the property is to be
sold under some decree of the Court of
Chancery. I know the place."

"So do I, by the Eternal!" was my in-
stant thought; and I was carried back in
memory to the choleric old gentleman who
quarrelled with his artist-son ! I hoped my
father would buy the place. How close I
should be to Five Tree Hill ! My mother
did not connect one place with the other,
but she showed real delight at the idea of
going into the country.

My Uncle Paul came in just then, with a
gay smile on his somewhat sad face, and
brought my mother a few rare flowers from

TRANSMIGRATION. 61

Covent Garden. He delighted in these
little offerings, and my father had no touch
of jealousy about them. He and Paul
understood each other.

" Paul," he said, " come down to Red-
borough with me. I think Romayne Court
is the very place to suit us. I want to
look at it directly. Have you break-
fasted ? "

"Yes," said Uncle Paul, "on seltzer and
brandy. Order your carriage while I eat
two or three kidneys. Annie will give me
a cup of tea."

One reason perchance of my father's
wonderful success was, that he never let the
grass grow under his feet. He drove
straight to the agent to secure the refusal of
Romayne Court, took train to Redborough
and looked at the place, came back and
signed an agreement to purchase, subject to

62 TRANSMIGRATION.

a conveyancer's approval of the title. The
whole thin^ was a matter of hours. The
result, which delighted us all, but delighted
my mother and me above anything, was that
in a few months we migrated from Wimble-
don to Romayne Court. My mother was
pleased with the thought of a quiet country
life : I felt special satisfaction in being so
near scenes which had been familiar for
years. How had they changed? I longed
to know. I felt sure there would be a
chance of knowing soon.

We settled down. One morning said my
sire, who was wont to propound his schemes
at breakfast,

" These boys must go to school soon,
Mavis. Miss Keith can manage Dot, but
they ought to learn something. They are
twelve."

TTnele Paul was staying with us.

TRANSMIGRATION. 63

" Send them to Grindley's," he said, turn-
ing from his omelet to look at his impetuous
brother.

" Grindley's ?"

"Yes. Best school in the county. Best
private school in the world. Old Cato
Grindley's dead ; but his nephew, Cicero
Grindley, who was with me at Cambridge,
keeps the school up well. Just the place for
these youngsters — three miles off, you can
see it from the window — so they could come
home for any Sunday or holiday."

" What do you think, Mavis ?" asked my
father.

" If they must go," said Mamma, " and I
suppose they must, I should certainly prefer
their going to a school Paul knows all about,
and that I can see from my windows. I can
drive the ponies over whenever I like. But
you know," she continued, shaking her rosy

64 TRANSMIGRATION.

forefinger at Papa, " I shall not decide until
I have seen Mrs. Grindley."

" Quite right," said my father. " The
mistress of a household is its soul."

65

CHAPTER V.

BIRCHANGER PARK.

O the gay school life ! The impartial Coruinonwealth !
Homage to finest classic, finest cricketer :
Homage to master of the sculls or algebra.
Who would not gladly be a reckless boy again ?
School is a kingdom where no sneak we tolerate :
School is a country where to lie is kickable :
A rare oasis in that desert, memory.

The Comedy of Dreams.

rjTlHE year before we left London had
-*- been a time of unusual bustle and ex-
citement, for the Hyde Park Exhibition —
first in a series of immense imbecilities — was
plaguing the world of London, and my
father's set were, of course, just the people

VOL. III. F

$6 TRANSMIGRATION.

to make much of an event like this.
There was a perpetual whirl. One glance
at the big glass house was enough for me ;
T thought it as much like architecture as Mr.
Thackeray's ode in the Times, which he had
forgiven for its " thunder and small beer,"
was like poetry. Mamma was of like
opinion, and positively declined to pay
perpetual visits to the place ; so, as
Kitty and Algy liked it excessively,
and screamed with delight whenever they
were allowed to go there, it came to their
going very often with Miss Keith, while I
stayed quietly at home with my mother.
Then she would tell me the story of her
youth, little knowing to whom she was tell-
ing it. Then she would describe Ford Cot-
tage and Beau Sejour and St. Apollonia's
Chapel, and Sir Edward Ellesmere. Then
she would teach me what years ago I had

TRANSMIGRATION. 67

taught her . . . pure poetry, and old ro-
mance, and subtle whims of the intellect. It
was delightful to receive, filtered through
Mavis's mind, the ideas which she had first
learnt from me. How delighted she was
with my swift apprehension ! Verily it was
extremely pleasant for both mother and son ;
since there was, for manifest reasons, perfect
accord between the two minds. She taught
me what I knew full well before ; but it
assumed a deeper meaning after it had been
crystallized in her intellectual atmosphere.

My mother and I had become such very
great friends during the Exhibition year,
that she was quite loth to part with me when
the time came for our going to school. I
looked forward to it. I wanted to be a
schoolboy again. Algy, I remember, cried ;
Kitty laughed at him for crying ; Mamma
scolded her, and said she should be whipt

f2

68 TRANSMIGRATION.

if she was so hard-hearted. As for me, I

quite enjoyed the idea, and looked forward

with delight to a renewal of my acquaintance

with Pons asinorum and Propria quae mari-

bus, and had delicious visions of cricket and

football, rowing and swimming.

The waggonette was at the door. My

father had taken to driving four in hand.

Algy and I were inside with our trunks :

Uncle Paul sat on the box : off we started

gaily towards Birchanger Park. It was a

pleasant drive, and a pleasant scene when

we got there. The old-fashioned red brick

house stands in a southern hollow of the

hills, and above it the hanger (or hanging

wood), chiefly of birch-trees, which gives it

its name. As I beheld the great mass of

silver-rinded thin-sprayed trees, I thought of

Coleridge's lines :

" Beneath a weeping birch, most beautiful
Of forest trees, the lady of the woods."

TRANSMIGRATION. 69

My father drove up to the front in grand
style, a groom blowing a horn to notify our
approach. I suppose few people made so
magnificent a first appearance.

Dr. Cicero Grindley was a very different
man from my old acquaintance, Dr. Cato
Grindley, his uncle. He was a man of
about thirty, six feet two or three in height,
light-haired, keen-eyed, with a clear-cut
Greek face, and with the most marvellous
flow of lan^uacre most musicallv uttered.
His Ciceronian baptism was prophetic. When
I had been his pupil a very short time, I
discovered that although he was a sufficiently
stern disciplinarian after the antique fashion,
yet far more than the flogging-block did
everybody dread the sharp sarcasms with
which he punished dunces and mutineers.
His courtesy to my father and uncle was
more like that of a prince receiving illustri-

70 TRANSMIGRATION.

ous visitors, than of a schoolmaster taking
two small boys as pupils. It was superb
without being absurd. I thought I perceived
an amused expression in Uncle Paul's coun-
tenance. However, the reception was a
pleasant one, and my father went away quite
satisfied with the establishment. I need not
say that my mother had previously made
Mrs. Grindley's acquaintance, and been quite
taken by her. This indeed nobody could
help. She was simply the most fascinating
woman I ever saw.

Algy and I had two introductions to
pass — one to the school indoors, the other
to the school out of doors. I looked for-
ward to both with much amusement. Poor
Algy was in an awful funk, of course ; but I,
who had known Eton in my earlier youth,
did not much fear the smaller world on
which I was about to enter.

TRANSMIGRATION. 71

Dr. Cicero Grindley handed us over to
an examiner — a seedy man named Glanville,
whose duty it was to find out what we
knew, and place us accordingly. Poor Al-
gernon could not remember anything Miss
Keith had taught him. This seedy Glan-
ville, taking snuff all the time, tried us in
Euclid, arithmetic, and the Eton Latin
Grammar. There was a black board in the
room, and lots of lumps of chalk lay round
it, as if it were the habit of black boards to
lay misshapen white eggs.

" Now, young gentlemen," says Glanville,
taking snuff, " prove that the angles at
the base of an isosceles triangle are equal."

He motioned Algy to try first. The un-
fortunate youngster tried, and produced a
network of nonsense that was almost laugh-
able.

" Rub that out," says Glanville, in a

72 TRANSMIGRATION.

voice of thunder. " Now, sir," to me,
" you try — but I suppose one is as great
a fool as the other."

Now I had intended to appear quite as
great a fool as Algy, that we might remain
in the same form ; but this snuffy man's in-
solence annoyed me. So I worked the im-
mortal pons asinorum out in the very words
of Euclid, evidently to Glanville's amaze-
ment ; and then I said :

"Euclid's demonstration is unnecessarily
complex. Allow me to try another.

A A'

B C C B'

Let the isosceles triangle A B C be laid on
its opposite side, as in A ' C ' B '. Then
there are two triangles having their sides
AB, AC, equal to A'C, A'B', and the
angle B A C equal to C ' A ' B '. Therefore

TRANSMIGRATION. 73

the remaining angles are equal, each to
each ; therefore A B C is equal to A ' C ' B ',
which is the same as A C B."

I thought that snuffy tutor's hair would
stand on end with astonishment as I thus
demonstrated. He paused awhile, and then
passed on to arithmetic, requesting Algy,
who was supposed to understand fractions,
to do an addition sum therein :

2 15-L. 9 1.14

3 T 6 T 10T 15

Algy, poor dear boy, made his L.C.M. 120,
and then blundered away till he got as a
result 5^.

" That boy's an idiot !" growled Grindley,
and took snuff. " You try it, sir."

I took a bit of chalk and wrote on the

board :

n = 4

n (n + 1)

— 3-i-

7Z + 2 - 6d

74 TRANSMIGRATION.

I don't think I ever saw a man quite so
astonished as Grindley, though I have had
unusual opportunities of astonishing people.
It took him some time to attack us again.

" Young gentleman," to Algernon, " con-
jugate malo."

This Algy did, with slight misadventure.

" As to you, sir," he said, " I suppose you
can write elegiacs ?"

" Modern writers of the Latin elegiac," I
said — " Lord Wellesley not excepted — do
not attain perfection because they have not
the true theory of scansion. The pentame-
ter consists of two dactyls, one spondee, and
two anapaests."

"The devil!" said Glanville, and took
snuff furiously.

At this moment entered Dr. Cicero
Grindley, and inquired if the examination
was over. We were dismissed. What

TRANSMIGRATION. 75

occurred between him and the snuff-taker I
cannot say ; but I found myself placed in
the fourth form, while Algy was in the first.

My brother and I, being dismissed,
strolled into the playing fields ; cricket was
on in half-a-dozen places, and I determined
to be soon among the players. Both of us
had a complete cricketing outfit, and we
had pocket money enough to subscribe to
the innumerable small extravagances of an
aristocratic school. However, we must fall
into our places first. We walked down
under splendid elms, and I heartily enjoyed
the scene, and the thought of being a boy
again ; but Algy dismally exclaimed,

" I shall never be happy here, Rex —
never. I must go home."

" Nonsense !" I answered. " We shall be
jolly enough."

" 0 you're such a fellow !" he said.

76 TRANSMIGRATION.

" You don't seem to care about anything."

We came suddenly round an angle of the

hedge, where about half-a-dozen boys had

made a fire, and were doing some rough

7 O O

cookery — against rules of course. School-
boys who do this sort of thing in a corner,
instead of coming to the front in some good
game, are usually dolts or cads or louts.
These seemed no exception. The biggest
among them — big he seemed to me, being
probably three years my senior — cried out,

" Hullo, new fellows ! What the devil
do you mean by coming here ? This is
private."

He had sprung to his feet, and, as Algy
was running away, he gave him a blow in
the back, which knocked him over. Then
he rushed at me.

I had long since discovered that I could
manage my new body quite as well as my

TRANSMIGRATION. 77

old one. I had forgotten none of the
athletic science which schoolboys and sol-
diers necessarily learn. As this fellow
came at me like a cow, I gave him one
under the chin with my right that dislocated
every bone in his brainless skull. He
fell flat on the grass. I picked up Algy,
who was more frightened than hurt, and we
wandered farther afield.

Our next meeting was more pleasant. It
was well on in the afternoon, and the Sixth
Eleven had drawn their stumps. As we
passed their tent we met two young fellows
of seventeen or eighteen — one in ordinary
dress, the other in flannels. They might
have been Apollo and Hercules in their
boyhood. One was tall, slight, agile ; the
other of middle height and noble breadth
for a boy. One was Captain of the School ;
the other Captain of the Eleven. Their

78 TRANSMIGRATION.

names were Giffard and Wintle. They
came alone;, arm in arm, talking over the
day's practice. Giffard noticed us at once.

" New fellows, eh ? When did you turn
up t

" A couple of hours ago," I said.

"Seen Glanville?" asked Giffard.

" Yes," I replied, " and thought him a
fool."

"That young cock crows early," said the
weighty Wintle.

" He's right about Glanville though," says
the Captain of the school. " You two
fellows look like twins."

" We are," said Algy, whom I had been
trying to make talk by all conceivable
methods.

"So I thought. Come along with us. I
didn't know you were coming, or I'd have
found you out before. It's hard lines for

TRANSMIGRATION. 79

youngsters like you coming to a big school."

" Yes," I said, " I've had to thrash one
fellow already."

" By Jove," said Wintle, standing still and
putting his strong hands on ray shoulders,
" you're a precocious youngster ! Now,
whom did you thrash ?"

" Well," I replied, " I didn't ask his name
before knocking him down, and if I had
asked afterwards he could not have told me.
I only know he was a cowardly blackguard.
He struck my brother Algernon without the
slightest provocation, so I hit hira pretty
hard in return. He was doing some cookery
over a fire by the hedge yonder."

"That cad Price," said Giffard. "He's al-
ways playing the bully. We'll have him up
for this, Wintle."

Dr. Grindley, as I came in time to learn,
gave a certain power of punishment to his

80 TRANSMIGRATION.

sixth form. He made them responsible for
general order in the school. On the pres-
ent occasion " bully Price," as he was com-
monly called, was summoned before the
sixth ; and, his conduct to Algy having been
proved, he received a dozen strokes with an
ash sapling. During the whole time I was
at Birchanger Park that fellow never ex-
changed another word with me.

Placed in the fourth form, I tried to be as
slow as possible.

It was hard work. I could not always
help giving replies that were too clever ;
and in fact I found myself in the fifth form
before I had been a month at the school.
The master of that form, Charles Marshall,
a wonderful Greek scholar, had got his boys
into the Birds of Aristophanes. Verily (un-
less some one had burnt or otherwise mis-
used it) there was a verse translation of the

TRANSMIGRATION. 81

Birds, rny latest amusement, mouldering in
the Bookroom at Beau Sejour. 1 really
could not resist the temptation. I drew on
my memory, and sent up occasional passages
in verse. Marshall was astonished.

" Marchmont major," he said, " you have
an instinctive apprehension of the Greek
comedy, and a remarkable mastery of
English verse for one so young."

So I was the hero of the hour in the fifth
form . . . and found myself before the end of
the term promoted to the sixth. It was a
wonder. No boy in his thirteenth year had
ever before reached that Olympian level.
Of course I knew it was quite unfair ; but
what was I to do ? And after all, I did no
particular harm to anybody.

News came of Wellington's death. The
boys all felt it; the great pure stainless name of
England's steadfast chieftain was known to

VOL. III. G

82 TRANSMIGRATION.

even the youngest. For me, I went away
into a lonely corner of the playing fields,
and wept. I had known him. I had met
that bright commanding penetrative eye
which had power to search into the character
of an officer, into the contrivances of an
enemy. He was, I think, the greatest
captain the world has seen. Tennyson's
Ode was intensely inferior to its theme ; but
I wholly agree with the saying,

" for one so true

There must be other nobler work to do
Than when he fought at Waterloo."

A month more — Christmas at Romayne
Court. Giffard and Wintle both lived
within a dozen miles of us, and both encase-
ed to come on Christmas Eve to spend a
week at my father's house. This arrange-
ment was made when the final examination
took place, and everybody's parents put in

TRANSMIGKATION. 83

an appearance. Dr. Cicero was quite proud
of me, and would have flattered me into
life-long vanity and conceit, had I been
honestly the niger cygnus that he imagined :
but knowing myself a mere im poster, I took
the thing easily. What annoyed me most
was poor dear Algy's chagrin. I had coach-
ed him a good deal, and managed to get
him into the second form ; but there he ob-
stinately stuck.

There was deep snow on the ground as
we started from Birchanger Park in the
waggonette. As a reward for my brilliant
doings, I sat on the box beside my father,
and criticized his style of driving. Nobody
can drive brilliantly through snow; but I
was irreverent enough to think that my
father's left hand was hardly sensitive enough
for the work he had to do. However, we
got home with no particular mishap ; and I

g2

84 TRANSMIGRATION.

was quite prepared to take the reins if ray
father had broken down.

All that Christmas we had snow, and a
mighty wood fire burnt in every room of Ro-
mayne Court. During the first week, Uncle
Paul, who was evidently puzzled by the dif-
ference between Algy's school achievements
and mine, set upon me fiercely with mathe-
matical and classical questions. I determin-
ed to give him tit-for-tat — for why should
he spoil my holiday ? — so I asked him to
explain passages that have maddened all
the commentators, and to solve insoluble
perplexities in Probability, and to demon-
strate Euclid's twelfth axiom. He gave me
up at last; but kindly offered to teacli me
chess. I beat him the first game.

" I can't make out those two boys of
yours," he said to Mamma that evening.
"Rex is almost too quick, and poor dear
Algy is certainly too slow."

TRANSMIGRATION. 85

" Rex isn't a bit too quick, Paul," said
my mother. " He's a genius, that's all."

"Ah," said Uncle Paul. "I wonder if it
is so ? I hope it is so."

I, who happened to overhear this bit of
dialogue, wondered whether what we call
genius, was usually based on the conscious-
ness of an earlier life. Did Shakespeare, did
Milton, did Coleridge, remember the life they
led on earth before ? The start of a whole
lifetime ought to enable the human racer to
" spreadeagle his horses."

Wiutle and Giffard turned up in good
time on Christmas Eve. We were a very
full house . . . lots of girls, many of them mere
schoolgirls, fit for schoolboy flirtation. My
father had invited hosts of people, and I
really had very little chance of talking to
Mamma. Kitty, who was growing up only
too fast, was quite the prettiest little girl in

86 TRANSMIGRATION.

the place. Giffard and Wintle both fell in
love with her of course, and both confided
their passionate secret to my inexperienced
ear. It was great fun.

There is a lake at Romayne Court, and it
was thoroughly frozen, and ray father
telegraphed to London in his grand way,
for innumerable skates of all sizes and
patterns. They came ; the ice was swept,
and down we went ; I had never skated in
this life, but I buckled on a pair, all steel
and thin almost as knife blades, and per-
suaded Mamma to sit in a chair, and drove
her over the lake at no end of a pace.
Giffard was the best skater among us ;
Wintle had never tried it, but he went on
resolutely, and broke many holes in the ice,
and eventually succeeded in keeping erect
for almost two minutes.

Sometimes I used to get a quiet half hour

TRANSMIGRATION. 87

with Mamma of an evening, when everybody
else had dispersed — the young folk in bed,
Papa in the billiard or smoking-room.

" Your friends are nice fellows," she said
to me that evening as I knelt by her sofa.
" Different in style, but good boys I am
sure. I can't understand how it is you are
in the same class with them, and Algy so
far below. I am very proud of you,
Rex."

I felt a deceitful rascal.

"There is nothing to be proud of,
Mamma," I said ; " I am rather clever in
two or three things, that's all. Algy will do
very well by and by, and I will do the best
I can for him always."

" I don't think Dot is half as fond of learn-
ing as I was at her age," Mamma said
musingly. " Ah, but she has not such a
teacher ; dear Annie teaches well, but I

88 TRANSMIGRATION.

learnt from a man who taught me because
he loved me. I am his spiritual daughter,
Rex : do you know what I mean ?"

" I think I do," was my answer, kissing
her lovely hand.

What a confounded hypocrite and im-
postor I am !

"Ah," she said, "I often feel as if he
were close to me, as if he spoke to me, as if
he whispered, ' I will teach you still.' And it
is strange, Regy dear, I almost always have
that feeling when you are with me. There
is something about you that is like him, 1
suppose. 0, my darling, grow up as good,
as gentle, as kind, as brave."

As my beautiful Mavis said this, she took
my boyish head into her loving arms, and
pressed me to her bosom. I wished I could
tell her the miraculous truth. I was silent.

Holidays came to an end, and their end is

TRANSMIGRATION. 89

usually miserable. The end of this Christ-
mas vacation was miserable enough, for there
set in a muggy drizzly dirty thaw, and the
whole world was dipt in soap and water. It
was a most uncomfortable ending to what
had been a very jolly time. Then Algy
caught a cold at the last moment, so we were
kept back, and we were two days later at
Birchanger Park. Now it was Dr. Grindley's
rule, whereof I was unaware, to flog all
boys who came behind time, so Algy and I
had to be flagellated ; and Granville, who
was the customary operator on these oc-
casions, had a fiendish joy in pitching into
me. He wouldn't, if he had known that
the birch twigs impinging on the outside
gave me real delight, as proving that I
actually was a boy again. It was my first
flogging at Birchanger Park ; I fear it was

CO O O '

poor Algy's fiftieth, or thereabouts.

90

CHAPTER VI.

SWEET AND TWENTY.

" In delay there lies no plenty ;
Then come kiss ine, Sweet and Twenty !"

A T seventeen I was Captain of the School
-*--*- and of the Eleven. Giffard was at
the Bar, with brilliant prospects. Wintle
was junior partner in the firm of Wintle &
Co., Russian merchants, Birchin Lane. Kitty
was a flirt. Algy was in the fifth form.
Just then arose for me a difficult situation.
An anonymous letter reached me at Birch-
anger Park; it was brief enough :

" Take care of your silly sister ."

The handwriting, cramped and quaint,

TRANSMIGRATION. 91

was entirely unlike any that I knew. Was
it a friendly warning, or a scoundrel insult ?
The epithet applied to Kitty rendered the
latter more likely. However, I determined
to act in the matter.

Dr. Cicero Grindley wisely gave his sixth
form plenty of freedom. His theory was
that when a boy reached the upper level of
the school his manliness and self-control
should have a chance of development. I had
kept a horse at Birchanger Park ever since

I entered the Sixth, and used to ride over
to Romayne Court whenever I had a fancy.
There was only an hour's work with the
Doctor on the day when I received this
laconic letter ; the notice paper on the class-
room door contained only two items.

u Sixth Form.
XI . . XII. Dr. Grindley. Probability.

II . . III. Herr Grutschk. Faust."

9*2 TRANSMIGRATION.

The worthy German's preelections I had in-
variably shirked ; but I never shirked the
Doctor, specially when he took up a topic so
dear to him as that Land Debateable be-
tween* mathematic and metaphysic. He was
most lucid and logical this morning on the
method of least squares, a perfect demon-
stration of which I have never seen in print.

When the lesson was over, I went up to
the Doctor and told him I was going over to
Romayne Court, and might possibly want to
stay the night.

'; By all means, Marchmont," he said.
" Take your time. I am accustomed to trust
you."

"Thank you, sir," I .said, and had my
horse saddled, and was at Romayne Court
in twenty minutes. When I had sent my
horse round to the stable, I strolled up
through the grounds. The house was full,

TRANSMIGRATION. 93

evidently. Gay groups were on the lawns
and terraces, and there were white sails on
the lake, and an effervescent mixture of gay
music and light laughter floated in the air. I
wondered what it meant.

Instead of going straight to the house, I
strolled through the grounds, and looked
curiously at the various groups of gaily-
dressed people who passed to and fro be-
tween shade and sunlight, and marvelled
what had induced my father to have this
superb entertainment, and why Algy and I
had heard nothing about it. At last,
after loitering through the grounds
without meeting anyone I knew, I sat down
in an arbour dark with yew, where an
alley of that slow-growing evergreen crossed
the garden. In this shade there were many
loungers, and I caught some of their talk.

"So March mont really expects to get in

94 TRANSMIGRATION.

fur the county," said one harsh unpleasant
voice. " He might as well try to reach the
moon. We must have a gentleman for the
county."

"Never mind," said a voice more musical.
" So long as he gives us pleasant days like
these he is a public benefactor, and he should
have my vote if it were possible for me to
have a vote."

They passed on, these quidnuncs. The
next I heard were voices of ladies, silver-
sweet.

u Do you think Kitty Marchmont pretty ?"
says one.

" Pretty ? — yes ; but she has no style —
decidedly gauche. What the Duke can see in
her, I am unable to imagine. A man of his
experience ought to have some taste."

" Ravenstower is in his dotage," said the
other. "He would fall in love with any doll."

TRANSMIGRATION. 95

"Will he marry Miss Marchmont ?"
"My dear! Don't you know he is married
already. He married Lydia Walsh, the
actress, and she is the real Duchess of
Ravenstower ; but she despises him too much
to take his title. She won't even receive an
allowance from him. I believe the little
Marchmont girl really thinks he is in ear-
nest, and she will be a Duchess ; but he
daren't marry, and he certainly wouldn't
marry her if he could."

These voices passed also away, leaving me
fierce enough in yew arbour. It seemed that
people were trying to make fools of both my
father and my sister. The Duke of Ravens-
tower, a haughty though impoverished noble,
was Lord Lieutenant of the county ; he
drank my father's wine, borrowed my
father's money, cast ogreish oligarchic eyes at
my pretty sister. An adroit and elegant old

96 TRANSMIGRATION.

man — white-haired, but perfumed — a skele-
ton, padded — with time's losses repaired by
the best artists — with a courteous manner and
a hugely mortgaged rent-roll — above all, a
Duke. Little Dot was tempted. She ima-
gined herself a Duchess already. It was
his notion to set my father to contest the
county : he hoped, while he was busy at this
political work, to come to terms with Kitty.
I walked out from my yew-tree bower, full
of boyish wrath. I crossed the lawn, and
ascended terrace after terrace. Presently I
saw on the higher terrace a group, easily
recognisable. There were my father and
mother ; there was Kitty, wonderfully like
what my mother was in her youth, but more
petulant and less intelligent : there was a
tall old gentleman walking with my sister,
and talking with the affected vivacity of an
imagined youth : there was my Uncle Paul,

TRANSMIGRATION. 97

strolling behind, with a look of listless vexa-
tion. He was lagging a few yards behind.
I walked briskly up and joined him.

" Ah, Rex," he said, " what brings you
here ? Holiday-keeping ?"

" No," I replied. " I rode over to see
how you all are. This is quite a festival.
Does my father want to get into Parlia-
ment?"

He looked keenly at me.

" Yes, he does. I wonder at so absurd
an ambition ; but he has made up his mind
that it is a good thing to do."

" If I were of age, I'd come forward and
oppose him," I said. " It would be great fun.
But what the deuce does his Grace the Duke
of Ravenstower want here ?"

" He wants to marry Kitty, so far as I
understand," said Uncle Paul.

" He is married already," I replied. " He

VOL. III. H

98 TRANSMIGRATION.

only wants to borrow money from Papa,
and to make Dot his mistress, if he gets a
chance. I am glad I came over to-day."

The light in my eye, my firm lip, my
clenched fist, told my uncle that I was in
thorough earnest.

" What do you mean to do, Rex ?" he
asked.

" I'm going to the little book-room," I
said. " Will you try and send Kitty there,
on some pretext or other, within half an
hour ?"

" I will," he replied.

I slipped away, unseen by my father and
mother, and took refuge in the little book-
room, which was crammed from floor to
ceiling with books that can be read. I
took up Martinus Scriblems, and lay back in
a lounging chair and waited. Presently Kitty
entered, looking for a book, apparently.

TRANSMIGRATION. 99

" Dot," I said.

She threw up her pretty head with an air
of contemptuous defiance. Ah, Mavis, her
mother, could not have done that. Mavis
was and is too true a lady. Kitty had all
the future Duchess in her, as she looked at
me.

" What do you want, you troublesome
boy ?" she asked.

" Are you going to be Duchess of Ravens-
tower?" I inquired.

" What business is that of yours ? His
Grace is very pleasant and nice — I like his
society. I suppose I may talk to him with-
out harm ?"

" 0 dear yes, Dot. If that is all, I beg
your pardon. But is it all ? Has not his
Grace said something about marriasre ?"

O D

Kitty began to whimper.
" He said something the other day that I

h 2

100 TRANSMIGRATION.

am afraid meant what is very wicked. I
am afraid of him, Rex, I am, indeed. He
is very polite and pleasant and witty, but I
am tired of him : only he pleases Papa so
much, and I don't want to disoblige Papa."

It flashed through my mind at that mo-
ment, how very narrow is the sphere of
common sense ! My father is a perfect man
of business, but he would willingty have
thrown his pretty daughter into the arms
of a pauper Duke old enough to be her
grandfather ! As if to be a happy wife
were not better than to be an unhappy
Duchess !

" Dot, my darling," I said, putting ray
arm round her, "you must have nothing to
do with that fellow. He is already mar-
ried."

I felt her start.

" Yes, it is quite true ! He is a scoun-

TRANSMIGRATION. . 101

drel, Duke or no Duke ! Now, I will tell
you what to do. I want to talk to him ;
get him to walk with you through the
rooms, and bring him to the Armoury : then
slip quietly away. Will you ?"

" I will." And away she went to do it.

The Armoury had been fitted up by dear
old General Romayne, and contained speci-
mens of all kinds of weapons. There was the
Lion Heart poleaxe ; there was the Roman
pilum ; there was the rapier of Toledo ;
there was the shillelagh of Ireland. I took
from the walls a pretty pair of rapiers, steel
that you could double without breaking,
and waited for the Duke.

In time he came, entering the door first,
and Kitty slipped away as I had directed.
He did not at first notice her disappearance,
nor did he notice me. He was looking at
the trophies with which the walls were

102 TRANSMIGRATION.

covered. Suddenly he turned to speak to
Kitty, and was evidently surprised at her
disappearance. Turning round, he caught
my eye fixed on him. Now came my time.

"You are a scoundrel, Duke of Ravens-
tower," I said.

A fiery flush came into this haughty
noble's face. Men seldom spoke to him as
to an equal. To hear such words from a
boy amazed him.

" Who are you, you impudent fellow ?"
he said.

" I am Reginald March mont, brother of
the lady whom you, a married man, have
insulted by your addresses."

" Pshaw !" he cried, in a fury, " you are
a miserable schoolboy. I will have you
sent back to school and well flogged, you
little fool I"

" Little " was rather an insult, as I stood

TRANSMIGRATION. 103

six foot one in my stockings at that time.

"You may have your choice of these
rapiers, Duke," I said. " You will fight me
before you leave this room. If you refuse,
I will horsewhip you in public. I suppose,
being by courtesy a gentleman, you know
how to use a sword ?"

He came forward, white with rage, took
up a rapier, and placed himself in position.
I saw he could fence ; but in three things I
was his superior — length of arm, strength of
wrist, youthful keenness of eye. Twice I
disarmed him ; the third time I ran my
blade through the fleshy part of his sword-
arm. He went off to be tended by his
valets, having promised me on his honour
never again to speak to my sister.

Next I found my way to my mother's
boudoir. She was very tired ; dissipation
always wearied her. She was dissatisfied

104 TRANSMIGRATION.

with my father's political ambition, and with
Kitty's fancy for her Duke. She had hoped
for quiet when she came into the country,
and for that exquisite untrammelled life
which is only possible amid the peaceable
solitudes of nature. That my father
should take a fancy to become mem-
ber for the county — that a Duke should
make love to Dot — were things of which
she had not dreamt. They destroyed her
delight. I consoled her as best I could,
saving no word of my duel with the Duke.
After a time I went down again into the
gardens.

There was a buzz of gossip on lawn and
terrace. The Duke had ordered out his
equipage, and gone off to Ravenstower with-
out saying a word to Mr. Marchmont.
This was the story. What could it mean ?
Had he been rejected by Miss Marchmont,

TRANSMIGRATION. 105

to whom everyone saw he paid so much
attention ? A hundred questions were
asked and were unanswered. There was a
whirl of rumours in the social atmosphere.

Crossing the terrace, I found myself close
by my father and Uncle Paul, who were as
much puzzled as anybody by the Duke's
sudden disappearance. I went up to them.

" You here, Rex," said my father ; " why,
I thought you were hard at work at your
Latin and Greek at Birchanger."

" I only came over for a few hours to
punish a scoundrel, sir," I said.

" What do you mean ?" asked my father.

" Well, sir, I hope you won't think it
very impertinent ; but I have just fought that
fellow Ravenstower, who had the audacity
to make love to Kitty, though he is a
married man. He is gone off, I believe ;
I ran him through the arm. It will take

106 TRANSMIGRATION.

hira a week or two to get well again."

My father looked perfectly amazed. It
took him some time to become articulate.
Then he said :

" You mean to say you fought a duel
with the Duke of Ravenstower ?"

" Yes, and if he were not so old I should
have horsewhipped him. He is simply a
scoundrel !"

" But how came he to condescend to fight
a schoolboy like you?" said my father.

" Condescend /" I exclaimed, indignantly.
" I think mine was the condescension, to
cross swords with such a fellow ! It took
him some time to condescend, but when he
saw that if he would not fight he would be
well thrashed, he pulled together his small
remains of courage."

At that moment I saw Dot in the dis-
tance, and went off to talk to her, leaving

TRANSMIGRATION. 107

ray father to discuss ray oddities with the
ever-sympathizing Uncle Paul.

" Well, Rex ?" says Kitty, interrogatively.

" Well, Dot," I reply, tranquilly, " what
have you got to say ? Are you pining for
your elderly admirer?"

" I hate him !" she answered. " I only
spoke to him because Papa seemed to wish
me to receive him with some courtesy. But
I think he is ugly, even for a Duke — and I
am sure he is stupid ; and I hope — I do hope
I shall never see him again."

" You never will, Kitty," replied I, " so
don't trouble yourself."

" Are you quite sure I never shall?" she
asked.

" Quite, child. I have given the fellow a
lesson. He won't trouble you more."

" What a boy you are !" said Kitty. " You
don't mean to say you have said anything to
the Duke of Ravenstower ?"

108 TRANSMIGRATION.

" I don't mean to say anything about it,"
I replied. " He has left Romayne Court,
and will not trouble you any more. Find
somebody else to flirt with, that's a good
girl."

Kitty was indignant, whereat I did not
wonder: Girl Twenty can hardly be ex-
pected without indignation to take advice
from Boy Seventeen. The relation be-
tween brother and sister is very useful, and
therefore, like all useful things, verv beauti-
ful. A sister may teach a brother many
valuable lessons in the fashion and fantasy
of life ; a brother may teach his sister what
it is that men adore in women. What is it?
Caprice? Beauty? Wit? Grace? Temper? No:
these are all in perfection delicious; but what
a man adores in a woman is that ideal in-
nocence, that sweet chastity of spirit, which
he knows for himself unattainable. And, if

TRANSMIGRATION. 109

happy enough to achieve the marriage of
completion, he knows that one-ha4f of him
is pure. The dearer half of him lives in
the realm of light. He must perforce
grope in the twilight of the world some-
times, but she need never forsake that calm
abode of clarity in which she was predes-
tined to dwell.

That Dot had been intoxicated by the
foolish fancy of becoming a Duchess is
quite clear, but my straightforward state-
ments on the subject had some of the power
of Ithuriel's spear : and she beheld Ravens-
tower in his proper shape, a battered old
roue, without an ounce of honour or con-
science. She was rather shamefaced about
it, and lost for the time a little of her vivaci-
ty; but the people staying at Romayne Court
all imagined that she had refused the Duke,
and so she had rather a social triumph.

110 TRANSMIGRATION.

That evening, as I next day learnt from
my uncle Paul, he and my father had a
long and serious colloquy on the general
situation. Everybody had gone to bed ex-
cept a few loiterers in the billiard and
smoking-rooms. I was one of the latter :
of course it was a point of honour to smoke
at Birchanger, since it was rigidly pro-
hibited. My father seemed perfectly amazed
at the promptitude of my action with regard
to the Duke.

44 The boy was right, Paul, and I was
wrong. I had no notion he was so full of
fire. He ought to do well."

14 He won't do on the Stock Exchange,"
said Uncle Paul. " What shall you make of
him ? He ousht to 20 to College."

11 1 must think about it. One thins is
certain : I may as well give up standing for
the county, after this row with old Ravens-

TRANSMIGRATION. Ill

tower. I can't succeed without his help."
" You would not have succeeded with it.
The sitting members have more real in-
fluence in the county than the Duke, who is
so pressed for money that he lets his farms at
a rack rent. I am glad you will give up
the idea : you can do much more good as a
county gentleman than as a member of the
House. Mavis, I know, will be delighted."
" By Jove," quoth my father, in his usual
rapid way, " I'll go and tell her at once.
She won't be asleep yet. Good night,
brother Paul."

Off he went, and uncle Paul strolled into
the smoking-room, where he found me, and
seemed a little surprised. There were some
odd people here to-night, two of whom I
specially remember. One was an American
gentleman, Colonel Caasar Goff, who drank
so much whiskey and smoked so many cigars

112 TRANSMIGRATION.

that I was quite appalled. His skin was the
colour of old parchment ; his nose was hook-
ed like a vulture's ; his voice was a vulture's
scream. The other oddity was a slim young
man, who wore gold spectacles, and who
was called Professor Wrightson. What he
professed I don't know, but he talked
omniscience. He lisped a little and stutter-
ed a little, which did not prevent his
chattering faster than anybody I have ever
met. Between him and the Colonel I was
pretty well stunned. A Niagara of words
poured into each ear. While on the right the
Colonel was eloquently narrating his ex-
ploits in the wild regions of America, on
the left the Professor was talking politics,
theology, chemistry, finance, and comparative
anatomy, all in a breath.

"You see, sir," said Colonel Golf, "when
that bar (he meant bear) saw me coining

TRANSMIGRATION. 113

with my rifle, she ran off lumbering to pro-
tect her cubs . . ."

" But that locomotive engines will be
driven by the heat produced when potas-
sium takes fire on the surface of water, is, I
think . . ."

This was the Professor.

" And the old he-bear came down from
the hill on me with tremendous precipita-
tion. I thought uiy life was lost ; however,
I had a revolver . . ."

" A new method of destroying armies is a
want much felt, and I think I have found a
chemical agent by which fifty thousand men
can be destroyed ten miles off at a cost
of . . ."

" My revolver burst ! Imagine my horror !
The old bear . . ."

" I mean to offer my invention to the
War Secretary, who . . ."

vol. in. i

114 TRANSMIGRATION.

I smoked tranquilly, mixing the sayings
of my two neighbours in rather a complex
way. It did not matter : the fictions of a
bragging hunter did not mingle badly with
the fictions of a blundering scientist. When
uncle Paul entered, sitting down apart from
the general crowd, I was not sorry to join
him. He lighted a cigar.

" When are you going back to Birchanger,
Rex?" he asked.

" To-morrow afternoon, I think, sir. To-
morrow is an off day. I can stay as late as I
like."

"Your father is rather astonished at your
fighting propensities. I think he wants to
talk to you after breakfast about your future
career. Do you feel disposed to become a
stockbroker ?"

" Certainly not. That will suit Algernon
perfectly. He was born to be a stockbroker."

TRANSMIGRATION. 115

"That is fortunate ; you, I suppose, would
like to go to College and complete your
education, before absolutely deciding what
you will do."

Now I had thought this matter over, and,
while I had some hankering after the in-
dolent quietude of cloister and quadrangle,
I felt that it would be a dreadful bore to
go over ground again that I knew perfectly
well. Pretending; to learn what I knew al-
ready had been good fun at school, but I
had had quite enough of it. The active and
originative tendencies were strong in me. 1
said :

" No, uncle, I think not ; I know as much
as I want to know. I should prefer to
travel through England a little before de-
ciding."

" Through England ? Not abroad ?"

" Not at present : I want to see England

i 2

116 TRANSMIGRATION.

and the English people. It appears to me
that there is more to be learnt in this way
than universities can teach me. I am quite
willing to work hard when the time comes,
but I should like a year or two to think
about it. At present my idea is to be either
an architect or a soldier."

"You are an odd fish, Rex," said my
uncle. " We will see about it to-morrow.
Good night ; don't sit up smoking any
longer."

I was about to follow my uncle's example
and go to bed, when Professor Wrightson
intercepted me. Looking round, I perceived
we were the only persons in the room ; the
smokers had gradually melted away while I
was talking.

117

CHAPTER VII.

A SCIENTIFIC MARVEL.
" Nee te Pythagorae fallant arcana renati."

" "T\0 you believe in metempsychosis?"
■*-J asked Professor Wrightson. "Ex-
cuse my abrupt way of asking questions, but
I judge from your conversation that you are
no sophist, but a true philosopher."

What a character one gets by being a
good listener ! My chief conversation that
evening had been puff after puff of the regalia.
But the Professor's question rather startled
me, considering what I actually knew. Was
this man something more than a mere

118 TRANSMIGRATION.

sciolist ? Could he have any inkling of my
wondrous experience ?

He induced me to sit down and talk
awhile, and have one more glass of some-
thing cool. He broke into strange parodox.

"All things in nature, I hold, are capable
of flux and reflux. The modern theories
of development are only a part of a much
wider theory. Humanity is Protean.
There is no reason in the world why, if we
desire to do it, we should not develop
wings in our children, if not in ourselves,
and make the air our highway. Let us
take a lesson from the bees, marvellous
geometers, marvellous physiologists — of
whom Virgil admirably says,

4 His quidam signis atque haec exempla secuti,
Esse apibus partem divinae mentis et haustus
Aetherios dixere : Deum nam que ire per omnia
Terrasque tractusquc maris caelumque profuudum.'

They change the sex of their offspring

TRANSMIGRATION. 119

when necessary, by administering particular
food. Now, can you keep a secret ?"

The Professor paused, anxiously.

" 0 yes," I replied.

" I am trying a similar experiment. I
was born a female ; I am gradually develop-
ing myself into a male. Whiskey and cigars
I find the best means of doing it. When I
have fully carried out my scheme, I shall
patent it. It will be a fortune. Just think
of the number of women in England alone
who are pining to be men. I should charge
a hundred pounds each — dirt cheap, you
know — and if I metamorphose ten thousand
women in the first year, that will be a clear
million."

The Professor spoke with such an air of
absolute conviction, that I did not know
what to make of him and his theory. I
went on smoking.

120 TRANSMIGRATION.

" The gradual change in me is very
curious. But that it was requisite to keep
the experiment secret, in view of the various
prejudices of mankind, I should have had
myself photographed at different stages of
progress. This I shall certainly do with my
clients, when my scheme is matured. The
power of mind over matter has never been
thoroughly recognised, still less understood.
It is capable of entirely changing the aspect
of the world."

" Nothing of the kind has ever been done
before," I remarked.

" That proves nothing, if even it be true.
There must be a discoverer of all nature's
arcana. But discoveries may be forgotten
and remade. Could the Pyramids and
Stonehenge have been built without steam ?
Were there not steamships in Homer's time ?
As to my theory, what is the meaning of

TRANSMIGRATION. 121

the myth of Proteus, of the Centaurs, of
the Amazons ? Depend on it, the antique
poets knew something of that law of univer-
sal change which I am gradually and pain-
fully establishing.

" It is very strange," was all I could
reply. The man looked so confoundedly
in earnest, that I saw clearly he was either
a sage or a madman.

We talked for some time longer — into
the small hours. The Professor was a
fascinating talker. If what he said was
incredible, he invested it with a halo of
plausibility. There was a curious magnetism
in the man (or woman ?) and he told
me stories of mesmerism, spiritualism,
and other preternatural wonders, such as
transcended anything I had heard before.
I don't know whether I had drunken too
much brandy and soda, or smoked too

122 TRANSMIGRATION.

many cigars, but I felt in an offuscated state,
and as I listened to this epicene professor, I
was as much under his influence as those
who heard the story of the Ancient Mariner.

The sleepy footman waiting in the ante-
room must heartily have wished we would
go to bed : but Professor Wrightson's talk
flowed on like an endless stream, and I felt as if
to interrupt it were impossible.

Suddenly interruption £ame. The sleepy
footman threw open the door, and two stal-
wart men entered. The Professor, who was
so seated that he could see the door, sprang
to his feet and gave a tremendous yell like an
Indian war whoop. Not one yell, but an in-
finite series, each of which seemed louder than
the last. I was wide awake now, but had no
time to interrogate the intruders, who had got
hold of the Professor in about half a minute,
and rendered him powerless with a strait

TRANSMIGRATION. 123

waistcoat — not, however, before he had abor-
tively hurled a soda-water bottle at them,
smashing a large mirror on the wall. He
went on yelling, and to such a purpose that
in a few minutes the smoking-room was full
of half-dressed people.

My father came forward and said, as
well as I could hear him for the Professor's
yells,

"What is the meaning of this disturb-
ance t

" Very sorry, sir," said one of the men,
" but this gent is a lunatic, escaped from
Dr. Middleton's. I don't know how he got
in here, but he's terrible cunning. We've
been looking for him near a fortnight."

Only too true. A cunning lunatic (he had
been a tutor originally, and overworked a
rather weak brain) had contrived to pass
muster among my father's guests. He had

1 24 TRANSMIGRATION.

also talked to me a great deal of rubbish
which, in that smoking-room atmosphere, I
took for high philosophy. As I reflected on
this adventure in the solitude of ray own
room, where I found it unnecessary to light
a candle, so bright was the full moon, I
thought both my father and I had made mis-
takes. He had kept too open a house : I
had kept too open a mind. Neither is wise.

125

CHAPTER VIII.

A CONCLAVE.

" This place [Milton's ideal Academy] should be at once
both school and university, not needing a remove to any
other house of scholarship, except it be some peculiar college
of law or physic, where they mean to be practitioners : but
as for those general studies which take up all our time from
Lily, to commencing (as they term it) master of art, it
should be absolute."

[)REAKFAST next morning was a most
-*-^ amusing assemblage. Everybody was
full of fun or curiosty or both. Plenty of
chaff flew about as to the varied and not al-
ways sufficient costume worn by those whom
the Professor's indefatigable ear-splitting yells
had brought into the smoking-room at dead
of night. We came to no definite theory as

126 TRANSMIGRATION.

to the meaning of these yells, and of the scene
generally, so a whole bundle of imaginary
hypotheses were brought out for our bene-
fit. My father did not appear. A long
course of early rising in connexion with the
Stock Exchange had caused him to like in-
dolent fashions for a change : he and my
mother usually breakfasted in his own rooms,
even when the house was full of company.
The guests had their option of breakfast-
ing where they liked and when : and in-
deed it was always understood at Romayne
Court that dinner was the only set meal.
Fay qe que voudras was the motto at all
other times.

I lounged into the garden after breakfast,
amusing myself with the bizarre recollections
of the night precedent. My father, an ex-
perienced man of the world, was the last
person in whose house you would expect to

TRANSMIGRATION. 127

find an escaped lunatic. As for me, having
had seventy-seven years of remembered life,
and having been a student for many years
of the time, it seemed odd that I should be
taken in by the extravagant platitudes of a
maniac. I felt slightly ashamed of myself.

In the garden I met my uncle Paul, who
told me that Dr. Grindley was coming over
in the afternoon, and Algernon with him,
and that there would then be a serious dis-
cussion as to the future proceedings of us two
youngsters. Hereat I was well pleased : I
wanted something settled. I was specially
anxious to transfer stoekbrokery to Algy,
who I knew would acquit himself well in
that line of business.

The conclave met. My father and mother,
Uncle Paul, the Doctor, Algy, and I. We
were requested to state our wishes. I .re-
peated mine.

128 TRANSMIGRATION.

" I wish to be an architect or a soldier.
I do not wish to decide at once. I want to
stud)7 England first."

" You would rather not be a stockbroker ?"
said my father.

" Certainly not, sir."

" And you don't want to go to college ?"
asks my uncle.

" I would much rather not."

Now Dr. Cicero Grindley held Milton's
opinion, that colleges would be unnecessary
if schools did their duty to the full, and I
had unconsciously enlisted him on my side.

"Marchmont major is right," he said.
" Give him four years more with me, as a
private student, and I will engage to teach
him both architecture and the art of war.
After that he can carr}' out his excellent
plan of studying England, for which as yet
he is too young."

TRANSMIGRATION. 129

" This sounds rather unpractical, Doctor,"
said ray father ; " but I am a great believer
in your judgment, and I wish both the
boys to have their way in the world, with-
in reasonable limits. What do you think
about it, Paul ?"

" I think," replied my uncle, " that Rex's
fancies are not unreasonable, and that under
Dr. Grindley's guidance he may do well.
You must keep a tight rein, Doctor," he
continued, " for I see the boy is full of wild
ideas that demand restraint. Don't let him
imagine himself a man before his time."

" I'll take care of that," quoth the Doctor,
rather grimly.

" Now, Algy," says my father, "it is your
turn. What do you want to be ?"

"A stockbroker, Papa, and as soon as
possible. I am tired of school."

"What say you to that, Dr. Grindley?"

VOL. III. k

130 TRANSMIGRATION.

said my father, while Algernon looked on
with anxious eyes.

" I think he chooses rightly. He will
make a good man of business, I judge : and
it is not too early for him to begin."

" Not at all," said my sire. " I'll send
him up to town this week. Why, Reginald,
Algernon will be a man before you have
left school."

" All right, sir," I said. " I should like
to be a boy as long as I possibly can."

My mother gave me an approving smile.

The result of this conference was that I
returned to Birchano;er Park with Dr.
Grindley, and that Algy went to some court
in the neighbourhood of Throgmorton or
Threadneedle Street, where Messrs. March-
mont & Co did mysterious business. At the
end of the current term I vacated my posi-
tion in the sixth form of the school, remain-

TRANSMIGRATION. 131

ing as the Doctor's private pupil. That
omniscient indefatigable man taught me
architecture with the enthusiasm of Ruskin,
and the art of war with the energy of my
Uncle Toby. And I had plenty of football
and cricket, of riding and rowing, and spent
four of the jolliest years I remember in all
my experience.

Why did I do this ? it may be asked. I
wanted to prolong my boyhood. Now,
reader, I put the matter to you — whichever
sex you belong to. Suppose you had once
been a boy, and become a man — or once a
girl, and become a woman — and were
fortunate enough to get a second innings as
a boy or girl — wouldn't you retard your
development into manhood or womanhood
as long as possible ? I did. I fear that
many a time I shocked dear Dr. Grindley,
which was a great shame : but I positively

k2

132 TRANSMIGRATION.

could not control my animal spirits. I,
who ought, as he gravely and sadly said, to
show a good example to boys younger than
myself, was always leading them into mis-
chief. It was too true ; I positively could
not help it. How the Doctor tolerated me,
I could not imagine, except that he delight-
ed in my intelligent appreciation of his pre-
lections on architecture, (^Egyptian, Etrus-
can, Greek, Gothic, k. t. \.) and the art of
war (from the club of Gain to the last refine-
ment in artillery).

Yes, I was a nuisance. Now, here is a
case in point : Tom Wetheral had succeeded
me as captain of the school. We two, and
Ralph Pollock of the Sixth, formed a trium-
virate. It occurred to us one day that we
should like some devilled turkey. About
four miles off, Farmer Cullamore had a fine
brood of white turkeys : we resolved to steal

TRANSMIGRATION. 133

one. Off we went at sunrise one autumn
morning, and picked out a splendid cock,
and had just put him to a prompt and easy
death, when the screams of the rest of the
flock brought out the farmer's daughter, a
buxom wench of five-and-twenty. These
white turkeys were her peculiar care. She
came rushing out across the garden into the
field beyond, with nothing on but a chemise
and a petticoat. She used emphatic lan-
guage. I immediately kissed her; so did
Pollock. Tom couldn't; he was embarrass-
ed by the turkey. Off we ran homeward.

Of course Farmer Cullamore turned up
at Birchanger in the course of the morning
. . . not, however, before we had surrepti-
tiously devilled our turkey, and found it
devilish good. He used stronger language
than his daughter, talked seriously of send-
ing for the police, and identified us without

134 TRANSMIGRATION.

much difficulty — for the old boy was shav-
ing at his bed-room window when we com-
mitted the theft, and nearly cut his throat
in his rage when he saw me kiss his
daughter.

" The boys shall all be well flogged," says
the Doctor. "And they shall pay you the
value of the bird, Mr. Cullamore."

" No, thank ye, Doctor," replies the
worthy farmer. " Let 'em have their
whacking : they deserve it : I won't have
their money."

And off he went.

The Doctor gave us — me especially —
quite a pathetic lecture, before he pitched
into us. I was always sorry for the dear
old boy, for he could not of course under-
stand the reason of my wild proceedings.

" I say," cried Pollock, when our little
business was over, " old Grindley picked

TRANSMIGRATION. 135

out some of his A 1 birch this time. I
shan't sit down for a week."

As for me, I that evening committed
another escapade. I rode over to Wing-
field station, left my cob at the Railway
Inn, and took train for London. I was just
in time to have supper at Evans's with
comfort. I slept at the Tavistock, and
breakfasted on a lobster. What a thins; it
is, after having been a man, and reached
the age of jaded appetites, to become a boy
again, and feel the joyous boyish hunger
for lobsters and mischief, for rhubarb tarts
and pretty girls. After breakfast I drove
to Bond Street, and expended ten pounds
in a very elegant bracelet.

Then, finding myself in London, and
knowing that I should get into difficulty on
my return to Birchanger, I thought I
would amuse myself. I rushed down into

136 TRANSMIGRATION.

the City and called on Algernon. Wasn't
he surprised and disgusted ! I had on a
straw hat, an old velveteen shooting jacket,
cord trousers, heavy walking shoes. Alger-
non had the finest blue cloth coat, the most
perfect canary-coloured waistcoat with
diamond buttons and a massive watch-chain
for adornment, trousers of a light lavender,
patent leather boots. He didn't know what
to say to me. He got me out of the office
as soon as he could, and asked me if I would
like to have some lunch.

" No, thanks," I said. " But how are you
getting on, old fellow ? Do you really like
this sort of thing?"

" Of course I do. Do you really like
staying at school when you ought to be of
some use in the world ? I can't understand
you, Reginald."

Talking thus, we had got into Lcadenhall

TRANSMIGRATION. 137

Street, and were in front of the " Ship and
Turtle."

" Come in and have a bottle of cham-
pagne, Algy," I said. " You don't under-
stand me, but I quite understand you. We
shall get on very well, by-and-by."

We had our bottle of effervescent wine,
and Algy's share was quite as much as he
could carry.

" I believe you're a dev-dev-lish good fel-
fel-low, Rex," says he, as we parted near
the Bank of England. " Take my heart
and lute — no, I mean my best wishes and
kindest regards — to old What's-his name.
Good-bye : I've got to bear some stock."

I hope he beared it all right.

I went to Covent Garden and ate peaches.
I lounged about the West-end, and won-
dered if any of the old gentlemen in club
windows of White's and Brooks's and

138 TRANSMIGRATION.

Boodle's were old enough to remember
Ned Ellesmere. By-and-by, I started home-
wards, and got to Birchanger in the after-
noon. To my great satisfaction, the Doctor
was out : he had gone away early in the
morning.

There was nothing to prevent my walking
over to Farmer Cullaraore's — I did so.
It was a pleasant stroll, under hedgerow
elms, through meadows abounding in mush-
rooms. I did not, however, go the whole
way. Crossing by a stile from a field -path
into a shady lane, I came suddenly upon
Julia Cullamore, the young lady whose tur-
key I had stolen and devilled — whose lips I
had audaciously kissed. She was a fine
girl, and looked at me with a mixture of
anger and admiration. What could I do
but kiss her again? She did not scream.
It is within the limits of possibility that,'

TRANSMIGRATION. 139

having reached the mature age of twenty-
five amid a population of young farmers,
she miffht have been kissed before.

"Miss Cullamore," said I, "it was very
wrong of us to kill your turkey."

" Father says you'd get well whipped for
it," she rejoined. " I hope you did."

" Well, Miss Cullamore, I really don't
think you ought to allude to such a very
sore subject. I prefer to forget such un-
pleasaut accidents."

" 0, you talk fine. 'Tain't so easy to
forget a good sharp smacking— 1 know that.
But I'm going home again ; so, good-bye."

" Wait a moment," I said. " Your father
would not let us pay for the turkey, so I
have brought you a little present. Will you
wear it ?"

I clasped the bracelet on her reddish
wrist. White stones and green shone amid

140 TRANSMIGRATION.

the gold — emerald and aquamarine. The
girl was delighted. She looked at the
bauble, as it circled her arm, with an almost
infatuate air. Then she said, looking at me
earnestly,

" You may kiss me again, if you like."
As I walked home to Birchanger, I
speculated somewhat sadly on the state of
England's rural intellect. Alas, I fear the
municipal intellect is not much better. And
yet England is, without dispute, the world's
foremost nation.

" By Jove !" thought I, " they manage
things better in Mars."

141

CHAPTER IX.

DOT AND I.

" In the dreadful heaven above

There's a Power too strong by half ;
For 1 like not, yet I love —
For I smile not, yet I laugh.

Ah, he may defy that Power,

And his life with gladness fill,
Who, in the consummate hour,

Has the strength to say / willV

J THINK Dr. Grindley was not sorry
when the time was over for cramming
me with architecture and the art of war.
He certainly dismissed me in the second
week of June, 1861, with an air of satisfac-
tion, promising however that he would

142 TRANSMIGRATION.

infallibly be at Romayne Court in time for
my coming of age. 0 dear, that coming of
age ! Fancy twins coming of age, and one
a stockbroker! I was in terror — mortal
terror. I felt fain to run away until it was
over. Algy, on the other hand, looked
forward to the affair with great delight ;
and walked about the grounds, rehearsing
to himself the speech he intended to make.

Meanwhile, I had much talk with Kitty,
who showed eagerness to give me her con-
fidence. I was quite surprised that my
sister, with her beauty and wit and certain-
ty of wealth, had not yet married. She
talked over the matter with me, of her own
accord.

"Rex," she said — we were under a great
oak in the park, and there was a superb
sunset, and the deer were curvetting wildly
— "I don't think I shall ever marry."

TRANSMIGRATION. 143

" ' Nobody asked you, sir, she said,' "
was my rude reply.

" 0 indeed ! A great many have asked
me, Rex, and some of them very nice
fellows ; but I have a kind of feeling that I
could never live with anybody who had a
right to control my actions. I should like
to be quite independent. I can't marry
without love : and I don't believe I am capa-
ble of loving in the true sense of the word.
I have studied the matter, Rex : I have read
all I could find about love-making. There's
Romeo and Juliet; very pretty verse, you
know : but Romeo and Juliet strike me as a
couple of foolish children, who ought to be
whipt and sent to bed. It is all like suck-
ing lollipops. Somebody recommended me,
the other day, to read Henrietta Temple, as
being the most delicious of love-stories : I
can't make out which is the greatest goose,

144 TRANSMIGRATION.

Henrietta or her Ferdinand. That's a
couple of examples : it seems to me incredi-
ble that clever men like Shakespeare and
Disraeli could sit down and write such
nonsense."

" Well, Dot," I replied, " I do not entire-
ly agree with you. There is such a thing as
real inalienable love, the result of two
people meeting who are absolutely fitted
one to the other. For every male soul a
female soul is waiting. They may never
meet: or, if they meet, they may be sunder-
ed by misfortune. If you should never see
the man you can accept as lover and master,
I advise you to retain your independence.
There is no reason why a woman should
not lead a happy life amid such circum-
stances. A perfect marriage is perfect
happiness : better not to marry at all than
marry imperfectly."

TRANSMIGRATION. 145

" How wisely you talk, Rex !"

" Don't I ? I've got the gift of the gab,
and the gift of prophecy. I'll bet you a
diamond ring to a pair of gloves that you'll
be in love before I come of asre."

o

" You wild boy !" she said. " Come, it
is late ; we must dress for dinner. Now I'll
run you to the wicket gate if you'll give me
two minutes law."

" All right," I said.

Off she started, agile as a deer ; showing
strong fine ankles as she ran through the
fern. Alas ! I too easily overtook her, and
had vaulted the gate from the park into the
gardens before she reached it.

" You're a wretch, Rex," she said.

" Remember our bet," I retorted. " I
mean to win those gloves."

When I got to my room, I forgot to dress,
and sat ruminating on the state of affairs.

VOL. III. L

146 TRANSMIGRATION.

Why didn't Kitty marry? I never saw a
prettier girl except her mother and my
lost Lucy ; but the right man for her did
not seem to arrive. My father meant to
give her fifty thousand — as I knew and as
a good many people guessed. Yet here
she was, at four and twenty, unmarried, and
thinking she should never marry.

So long did my cogitations last that the
second dinner gong sounded, and I had not
thought of preparation. I was too hungry
to care about this ; so I hurriedly washed
my hands, and got down stairs just in time
to take into dinner a particularly prim maiden
lady, old enough to be my grandmother.
She scarcely touched my arm with the tip
of her gloved finger ; no wonder — I had on
an old purple velvet shooting coat . . . purple
originally, but now blending all the colours
that glorify the woods in autumn. If' a

TRANSMIGRATION. 147

painter could paint that coat, he could paint
sunset. The superb ladies and gentlemen
at the dinner table looked puzzled. Kitty
laughed, for she knew my absent ways.
Algernon, with the squarest of white ties,
and quite a bouquet adorning the silk lappel
of his Savile Row dress-coat, looked rather
shocked. Capel Court is a hothouse for
delicate plants.

It was a dull dinner. There were too
many people. The old maid whom 1 had
taken in to dinner was silent all the time,
opening her mouth only to eat, which she
did with a vengeance. To compensate, on
my other side was a youthful widow of forty-
five, who marked me down as her prey,
and who talked more in a minute than
Charles Matthews as Captain Patter could
talk in an hour. She set her cap at me in
the most amusing style ; talked of her little

l2

148 TRANSMIGRATION.

place in Kent, so charming, with such lovely
grounds, and such nice society in the
neighbourhood ; said that her late husband
had been a deep disappointment to her, and
that she now was pining for a congenial
spirit, who would make her life happy.

"And 0 how happy I would make him!"
she exclaimed, gushingly.

" Won't you take some grapes ?" I asked.

She gave me up, after that, and turned
her artillery on a stout rubicund sjentleman
of twenty stone and thrice as many years.

I did not that evening go into the draw-
ing-room. I played a game or two of
billiards with Captain Harris, who always
went to his billiards the moment wine-drink-
ing ceased. That he beat me easily va sans
dire. To be supreme at billiards (or any-
thing else save one) you must work every
day; and I have intense pity for the man

TRANSMIGRATION. 149

who works every day. Mr Bagehot not-
withstanding, I believe that science, if wide-
ly developed and wisely applied, could
abolish hard work.

I strolled off to the smoking-room, as
some men came in who might give Harris
the invincible a trifle more trouble. Nobody
was there. I lighted a cigar, and lay on a
couch, and indulged in reverie. It was not
of the future, as might be expected from a
youngster just coming of age ; it was of the
past in Earth, the past in Mars ; it was of
Lucy ; it was of Alouette.

As I lay ruminating the door opened ;
entered my uncle Paul (who had been in
London all day) and a friend. They did
not see me ; I was meditating in a remote
corner. I could observe them at my leisure.

My uncle's friend was the handsomest
ugly man I ever saw. His hair was black

150 TRANSMIGRATION.

horse-hair, and too much of it; his feet were
beetle-crushers, and too much of them. His
nose was a queer combination of hook and
snub ; his two eyes never looked the same
way ; his mouth was immensely large,
with the right-hand corner up, and the
left-hand corner down ; he had a stubbly
grey moustache, and a short iron-grey
beard ; his arms and legs were both a great
deal too long for him. But those ill-matched
eyes had strange keenness and wonderful
depth of colour ; and that vast mouth had
marvellous power of expression ; and when
I heard the man speak, I felt that I had never
before realised the possible music of the hu-
man voice. I would rather hear him speak
than Mario sing.

" So here we are at last," said Uncle Paul,
throwing himself lazily down. "As we've
missed dinner, suppose we have a devil sent
in here ?"

TRANSMIGRATION. 151

" Right," replied the stranger.

A footman was in the room, and the order
was given.

" Tired ?" said my uncle.

" Never was yet. Only impatient. Want
to get at the last act of ' Beauty and the
Beast.' "

" It will soon come," quoth Paul March-
mont ; "and the curtain will drop at the
right moment."

The stranger unexpectedly lifted up that
mellow voice of his, and carolled, ex impro-
viso, and to a tune that seemed to have been
made on the spur of the moment, and to
have been considerably torn by the said spur.

" O, there was a Beast most frightful,
A million years ago,
Who dwelt in woods delightful,
And found it very slow :

And he barked, or brayed,
Or whinnied, or neighed . . .
' O, all that I want is a lovely maid
With breasts of rosy snow !'

152 TV, ANSMIGK ATION.

O, there was a damsel of Beauty,

Like grapes in their autumn glow,
And she thought it was her duty
The meaning of this to know :
And she never ceased
To look at the Beast,
Till she went one morning to fetch the Priest.
Were they married? — I hope 'twas so."

I rose from ray corner and came forward,
as the footman entered to take my uncle's
orders.

" Ah, Rex," said uncle Paul, " you here ?
Why not among the ladies, as is the manner
of youth?"

"Not in the humour to-night, sir," said I.
" Thought I would come here and smoke a
solitary cigar, and ruminate on the possi-
bility of coming of age without making a
fool of oneself."

"Misanthrope or misogynist or both?"
said ray uncle. "No matter. Wake up
now and amuse us. We are going to sup

TRANSMIGRATION. 153

in a corner. We desire not to enter the
halls of white waiscoats and white satin. This,
Rex, is Mr. Eustace Perivale, Queen's Coun-
sel. And this boy, Perivale, is one of the
twins that is painfully coming of age."

" Would it be considered irreverent,
uncle," said I, "if I were to throw you out
of window ?"

" Decidedly," said Uncle Paul ; " especi-
ally as there is supper on the road. Wait
till that important meal is finished. After-
wards we may perhaps enter into questions
of casuistry."

The ugly Q.C. made a tremendous meal.
He got some excellent claret with his grill,
but he positively had the face to grumble.

" There is but one liquid worth drinking,
Marchmont," said he, " and that is London
stout. It beats the best port in the world.
You know my little place at Beckenham ? —

154 TRANSMIGRATION.

I have had a silver tube laid down from
there to Whitbread's brewery, and they pump
a constant supply of their best stout."

" That silver tube must have cost some-
thing," said my uncle, gravely.

" Only a Roman Catholic infant, in
Chancery," replied Perivale. " Lord bless
you, Paul, you've no idea what a lovely
profession the law is ! Litigation is a per-
petual epidemic. If you can only make the
worse appear the better reason, you've a
fortune — a perennial income in the palm of
your hand. Only one can't be honest."

"Awkward!" said my uncle.

"Don't agree with you," said the Q.C.,
after swallowing a tumbler of champagne.
" I think the lawyers have the best of it,
and are more honourable than people of
any other profession or vocation or trade."

"How so?"

TRANSMIGRATION. 155

" As thus. The lawyers cant be honest.
Granted. Understood. Agreed. But other
men, from the parson to the costerraonger,
could be honest if they would, but they ivont.
Now, Paul, my boy, which is the sheerest
rascal, the man who can't be honest, or the
man who won't ?"

" Casuist !" quoth my uncle. " Come, I'll
leave it to my nephew. What say you,
Rex ?"

" I say, sir, that a man who deliberately
takes to a profession in which he can't be
honest, must be either a fool or a knave ;
and I am told there are very few fools in
the profession of the law. The difference
between lawyers and other people seems to
be this : others will be honest when honesty
pays, but a lawyer would magnanimously
lose money to gratify his lust for dis-
honesty !"

156

CHAPTER X.

COMING OF AGE.

Alouette. To come of age ! Do all men come of age, papa,

At the same moment ?
Astrologos. Darling, not a bit of it.

I've known a man who never came of age at all,
Though he was ninety at his death.

I've known a man
Who came of age a baby in his bassinette,
And was a man before he spoke a syllable.

The Comedy of Dreams.

A LGERNON and I were very much
-*-■*- alike ; but I was an inch taller, and
several inches more round the chest, and
had a ruddy country skin, whereas his com-
plexion was of the Burlington Arcade type.
My hair was a curly mop : his savoured of

TRANSMIGRATION. 157

Truefit. As to dress, why, he was the petit
maitre of the City — the Capel Court dandy ;
while I could, by no process or persuasion,
be brought to dress elegantly. Comfort
and convenience were my idols. I was
very glad to quote the example of Eustace
Perivale, Q.C. He also dressed as he liked,
did what he liked, behaved like a chartered
libertine. I noticed he talked a deal to
Dot.

One day he came to me down by the
lake, where I was mooning about, and ab-
ruptly said,

" Marchmont, should you object if I
were to ask your sister to marry me?"

I looked at him for a moment. That
grotesque face of his was graver than com-
mon. There was a light in the eye, a tre-
mor on the lip.

"Why ask me?" I said.

158 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Because you are the only person who
needs asking, except Mrs. Marchmont, and I
dare not approach her yet. Now come, old
fellow, tell me what you think. I am
devilish ugly, I know ; but I can wile a
bird out of its nest, or a verdict out of a
jury. I saw Miss Marchmont at the Opera
one night last season and was hit hard. It
took me an immense time to find out who
she was. But your uncle and I are of the
same club — the Chandos, and so I managed
to sret at the fact. He brought me down

CD o

here. I have seen Miss Marchmont, but
have said no word to her. When I last
spoke to your uncle on the subject, he said
— ' Talk to Rex.' Now, my dear boy, I
must have your sister : she is the only wo-
man in the world I could love/'

" She'll have fifty thousand pounds, Peri-
vale," I said.

TRANSMIGRATION. 159

" Ha I" with a deep sigh. " I wish I could"
get your father to keep that fifty thousand
pounds till we want it. I'm making twelve
thousand a year, and refusing briefs right
and left. I've refused a judgeship twice."

I laughed inwardly. I acknowledged the
strength and nobility of the man, cased gro-
tesquely : the question was, would Dot simi-
larly appreciate him ? After a moment's
reflexion, I said . . .

" Shall I talk to my sister, Perivale ? Or
do you prefer to go straight to her your-
self?"

" I never saw judge or jury I was afraid
of," he said, " but I am rather afraid of Miss
Marchmont. You know I'm uo;lv . . .
damned ugly ; and she is 0 so beautiful !
The world never saw anything like her."

I thought of the infinitely higher beauty
of my pupil, Mavis Lee.

160 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Well," I said, " I'll go and talk to Dot
the first chance."

"01 wish I might call her Dot!" whis-
pered the sore-stricken Queen's Counsel.

Kitty was out that day — at a garden party
in the vicinage. When she came home it
was late : dinner was long over : my mother,
always early, had gone to bed. I had given
orders that my sister's arrival should be men-
tioned to me : and a servant brought the
news as I was just finishing a game of billiards
with the Q.C., who played abominably.

When I went up to the child's boudoir,
there she was, in a pretty undress, tired evi-
dently, yet with the light of a past enjoyment
in her lovely eyes. Pleasure and fatigue are
twins, fatigue a moment later born.

" Ah, Rex," she said, with a gay smile,
"have you come to lecture me? You
schoolboys think you know everything.
Come, what is it?"

TRANSMIGRATION. 161

" Have you still quite decided to be an
independent old maid, Dot ?"

" 0 dear no ! I saw a lovely curate and
a most exquisite ensign at our party to-day.
They both made love to me. They both
lisped. They both blushed . . . much better
than I could."

" Will you blush if I mention the name of
Eustace Perivale, Dot ?"

" 0 Rex ! He is so good, but I don't
think I am good enough for him."

"Yes, darling, you are," I said. "Your
very faults are beautiful in his eyes. But
you told me not long ago you could never
love anybody — and that you could never
obey anybody."

" Did you never alter your mind, Rex
dear?" she asked. " I had never seen any-
body then that I could love, or that I should
like to obey. I have now. Rex /"

VOL. III. M

162 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Yes."

"You'll tell papa, won't you?"
" O yes."
"And, Bex!"
"Well."

" Tell Eustace I'm gone to bed."
" Ay, I'll tell him that, and a lot more
that will drive him half mad."
" You wretch ! Rex !"
" "Well, you monkey."
" Isn't he most delightfully ugly ?"

163

CHAPTER XL

FIVE TREE HILL.

Change is the law of all things save the soul of man,
Which, being divine, is utterly unchangeable.

The Comedy of Dreams.

TJIASY as was the distance from Romayne
-" Court to Five Tree Hill, I only rode
over two or three times during my school-
days. In truth, my first visit disgusted me.
There were no coaches now on the road, no
merry bustle at the Romayne Arms when
the guard's horn was heard in the early
morning, and all the outside passengers want-
ed lamb's wool. The natty little inn of my
memory had degenerated to a wayside pub-

m 2

1 64 TRANSMIGRATION.

lie-house, whose occupier could scarcely
live. It was kept by a fellow called Easi-
ng ond, who was always intoxicated.

Beau Sejour was closely shut up, and I
could neither obtain access to it, nor ascer-
tain to whom it now belonged. After
wandering awhile in the shadow of Saint
Apollonia's Chapel, I rode back disgusted.
The dream of my former life was harshly
dispelled. Once or twice afterwards I rode
over, but the place was melancholy ; it was
like entering a chamber where you had left
the woman you loved, happy and full of
life, and finding her a corpse. I was not
particularly sentimental, for my second
boyhood seemed to neutralize my previous
manhood, even as complementary colours
produce white light. So, finding that I
could not satisfactorily renew my * reminis-
cences of Five Tree Hill, I gave it up and

TRANSMIGRATION. 165

enjoyed ray school life — played cricket and
football, and wrote Greek verse, and drank
for a second time the new clear unfer-
raented wine of life. I wish I had power
to efficiently describe the intense delight
which I found in passing through a second
boyhood with a clear recollection of ray
first. No man can understand the taste of
good wine who has drunken but one bottle;
or can know what poetry is, having read
but one poem, however good ; or can intel-
ligently appreciate the beauty of woman,
having seen but one woman in the world.

The problem came often into my mind,
after I had left school and made some
slight progress into the deeper waters of the
world . . . Can I love again ? Perchance,
to the ordinary reader, this may seem
absurd : but I was unable to forget Lucy,
whose pure and beautiful soul had vanished

166 TRANSMIGRATION.

from the earth with mine. Ah, where had
that sweet spirit dwelt all these years?
There is no identifying a disembodied and
reembodied spirit. Surely there ought to
be a spiritual telegraphy, whereby two
severed souls could hold communion, though
one were in Sirius and the other in Alde-
baran. We want a seraph-Scudamore, un-
checked by the Supernatural Treasury.

Now, if I could only have found Lucy, I
should have been happy. But here was I,
after wandering through another planet,
a^ain cribbed and confined bv the stringent
laws of earthly necessity. I could not
break those laws, except by committing
suicide, for which I felt not the slightest
inclination : so I determined to take matters
with a calm philosophy, and to go on my
travels in search of adventure.

I was much amused at the way in which

TRANSMIGRATION. 167

I was evidently regarded by my immediate
relations. My father thought me a fool of
genius, and, as he had plenty of money, and
more common sense than any man I ever
met, he determined to let me sow my wild
oats in my own way, believing that, the
process over, I should grow reasonably
wise. Having a model stockbroker in Algy,
who already was making quite a sensation
in Capel Court by the originality of his
devices, he could afford to let me run wild.
My mother's judgment of me was rather
mixed. I was her favourite boy; I learnt
all she taught me so readily — and why not?
since I had taught her : but there seemed in
her mind sometimes a kind of perplexity
about me. With my knowledge of the
facts, I often wondered whether there was
a kind of half-memory of the past which
flashed upon her in moments of the clear-

1G8 TRANSMIGRATION.

est intuition. Did she sometimes vaguely
dream of Five Tree Hill, and the old quaint
house, and Saint Apollonia's Chapel,
and her tutor ?

My uncle Paul, I am certain, thought
there was about me something unusual and
not at once explicable. He never said a
word, but 1 often perceived that he was
puzzling himself about me. What he
thought, I cannot say : he is one of the most
reticent of men : also he is one of the most
persistent in pursuit of the clue to any diffi-
cult question. I do not at this moment
know whether he has reached a conclusion :
this true story might help him, but I per-
fectly well know he won't read it. Because
it is in three volumes he will think it is a
novel, and be quite unaware that it contains
the verification and rectification of an an-
cient philosophic theory.

TRANSMIGRATION. 169

Algernon thought, and still thinks me, a
fool. Dot — well, I don't quite know Dot's
thoughts — but one day, when I had been
giving the lovely light-hearted child a lec-
ture, she said,

" Upon my word, Rex, you talk as if you
were a thousand years old."

And really Dot, though three years ray
senior, seems quite a baby to me. As my
father kindly and wisely left me to my own
devices, I carried out my project, and walk-
ed through England. I decided to walk,
because it secures a man perfect independ-
ence. Possibility of accident varies as the
square of the number of integers : if a man
rides, he is four times as likely to get into
difficulty as if he walks.

My adventures during this period would
make a book in themselves, and can by no
possibility be narrated here. All this time,

170 TRANSMIGRATION.

while I was traversing the dear old land,
with open eyes for its beauty and character,
open ears for bird-music and human wit,
open nostrils for odour of rose and meadow-
sweet, Algernon was upbuilding a colossal
fortune for the great firm of March mont &
Co. Algernon was a director of the Bank
of England before I had made up my mind
to be anything. In my desire to be either
an architect or a soldier, I had scientifically
examined all the cathedrals and all the forti-
fications in England, and had reached the
inference that the cathedrals were better
than the forts.

I was at home at intervals — indeed, I had
a grand time of it when Dot became Mrs.
Perivale. The Stock Exchange was grandly
represented, and the presents that came from
the Stock Exchange would have been wel-
corned bv a bride of the Blood Royal. My

TRANSMIGRATION. 171

gift might have been unique. A week or
two before the wedding, I was sitting on a
stile near Ashridge Park in Hertfordshire.
It was green summer weather : the foliage
cooled the eyes : the turf cooled the feet.
A bird sang. I looked up in surprise.
Never had I heard that peculiar bird-note,
which I am not musician enough to jot down,
except in Mars. The lovely singer rose into
ether, with a sunset on his wings, and as
he rose he dropt something that looked like
a star as it fell on the grass. I searched for
it : it was a thin gold ring with one sapphire
in it about the size of a sixpence, cut en
cabochon: and in the very core of that sap-
phire was a single point of red, as bright as
fire — and, as I afterwards found, light-giving
in the depth of darkness. I divined at once
that this was a gift from the good old King
of Mars, designed for my sister's wedding-
day.

172 TRANSMIGRATION.

I put the ring on my little finger, and
walked on toward the tavern where ,1
designed to sleep. I never wear a ring, so
I was fidgetted by this one, and turned it
round and round on ray finger. As I
crossed a pleasant meadow-path, I saw a
country love-making couple coming toward
me. Just as I passed them, the boy said to
the girl :

" Why, I thought I saw a gentleman
coming along the path. Didn't you, Bet?"

" Ay, I did, sure. A tall man he was.
0, I'm afeard, Tom. It must have been a
ghost."

I had stood still within a yard, and was
listening to them. They could not see me.
Connecting this phenomenon with the ring,
I noticed that I had turned the stone in-
side. I shifted it to its proper place. The
young woman suddenly exclaimed :

TRANSMIGRATION. 173

" Why, there's the gentleman, Tom ! We
was looking the wrong way."

Walking on towards my inn, I tried the
stone, and found it efficient. I walked up
to a bull without his knowing it, and caught
a partridge that was lying snug among the
turnips. When I reached the little inn at
which I meant to sleep, I entered unseen.
Clearly, this ring had magical powers.

" Shall I give it to Dot ?" I thought, as I
sat over my tough mutton-chops and Coli-
seum sherry — "shall I? Why, what may
the young monkey be tempted to do, if she
finds she can at will render herself invisible.
The eleventh commandment — Thou shalt
not be found out — is rendered nugatory by a
ring like this. Xo, by Jove, I'll keep it
myself."

I did, and nave Kittv instead the finest
set of pearls in Europe. I don't believe

174 TRANSMIGRATION.

they are paid for yet. I have the ring to
this day, and am extremely glad I did not
give it to Kitty. It might have demora-
lized that child, and I have found it useful.

Wandering still from place to place in
England, whenever the weather was fine, I
walked one day into the principal inn at
Redborough. I was going home to
Romayne Court : but a long day's walk had
tired me, and I thought I would dine and
sleep there and go home next morning.
When the morning came, T felt enterprising,
and determined to pay one more visit to
Five Tree Hill. The ghost of Doctor
Romayne, the memory of Mavis and of
Lucy, seemed to drag me thither. I had
reason to be glad that I went.

The Romayne Arms was as dull as
ever, but I entered it, inspired by a kind of
intuitive curiosity, and learnt from the stolid

TRANSMIGRATION. 175

landlord that there were some ladies staying
for a time at Beau Sejour.

" Real ladies, your honour," says the
landlady. " I can't make out the names,
and the groom is that short he a'raost bites
your nose off: but they're real ladies, and
no flies."

I told this chattering Mrs. Eastmond that
I should want a bed that night, and then I
strolled down that steep hill-side, where the
foliage was heavier now, where I had
walked so many many years. This path I
had walked with Mavis. In that room
whose windows I could see, shining in the
westering sun, Lucy had held my dying
hand. The old house had life in it now. I
longed to enter it, and see.

After lingering at the gate, I descended
to Saint Apollonia's Chapel. As I went
down the hill I felt a strange magnetism.

176 TRANSMIGRATION.

Something drew me forward. You see the
quaint old chapel of the dentist-saint some
time before you reach the foot of the hill ;
and on an immemorial stone I saw a woman
sitting ... a woman ? a girl, but how like
Lucy ! The nearer I came the more tre-
mulous I grew. She was not looking at
me, this child ; she was looking at the un-
utterable beauty of the sunset. Simply
dressed, she was ; a girl-woman ; brown-
haired, with fleck of gold that seemed alive ;
eyes bluer than the bluest summer sky ; a
sweet spiritual flexure of motion ; a won-
derful inborn life and light that flashed
through and through her. She was dressed
in pure white, with one royal red rose in
her bosom.

I do not think any moments of any life
of mine as yet gone through were so calm-
ly enjoyable as while I leaned on the old

TRANSMIGRATION. 177

lichen-grown rough stone wall, and looked
at this girl. Her likeness to my lost Lucy
was perfect. As I remembered my Thames-
side darling — ah, how many, many years
ago ! — I can hardly help thinking that here
she is again . . . always loving, always young.
Ah, it cannot be ! This is some chance
resemblance, nothing more.

I stood watching this girl, with my elbows
leaning on the old stone wall, till the sunset
faded, and the sky grew grey, and she, with
a slight shiver, rose from her position.
Youthful still, I could not help speaking to
her : she did not seem in the least degree
frightened. I said something about the beauty
of the evening : weather's the king of talk- top-
ics. She accepted my escort to her garden-
gate with that divine unconsciousness which is
the beauty of serene maidenhood. At that
gate we parted. I said,

VOL. III. n

178 TRANSMIGRATION.

" I used to know some one who lived in
this old-fashioned house. Might I call to
look at it, do you think ? I am staying for
a night or two at the little inn."

And then I told her my name, and where
I lived.

" If Mamma is well enough, Mr. March-
mont, I am sure she will be delighted," said
the young lady. " She is very feeble and
nervous, but sometimes a new visitor cheers
her up. I will let you know to-morrow
morning."

This was at the garden-gate. A full
moon was shining. " The devil's in. the
moon for mischief." The moon shone
straight into this beautiful creature's eyes,
and made strong sapphires of them ; shone
also on her fair soft skin, and made it
lovelier in its rosy whiteness than ivory
would be if you could distil upon it the

TRANSMIGRATION. 1 79

ruddy juice of all Persia's roses ; touched
her ruby lips with so delicious a dewy-
light that, on the honour of a gentleman, I
could not help kissing them. She ran away
into the depths of the shrubbery : I, left
alone, went to the Romayne Arms, ate,
drank, slept.

Dreamt, moreover. In my dreams I
identified this girl with Lucy. Gods, how
like they were ! The same colour of hair
and eye, the same sweet fluent movement
of form, of foot, of finger, the same wonder-
ful translucence of the soul that maddened
me into ineffable love at Twickenham, years
ago . . . that miraculous transparency of
soul, as if Lucy were a lamp of the purest
plate-glass, with the strongest electric light
burning at her heart's core.

n2

180 TRANSMIGRATION.

" A woman who is light from heart to eye,

A woman who is love from eye to heart ;

That is true beauty. Ah, on life's rough chart
Mark down the place of meeting ere you die,
If you have met such woman. Never sigh

If she desire you to dwell far apart :

Just to have made a vein of anger start
In her strong soul is something. Ah, but why
Is it that such a woman seldom sees

The man of calm imaginative brain.
The man who loves the birds and flowers and trees,

Who fathoms pleasure and finds power in pain ?
One glance, one grasp, would make one flesh of these.

Yet go they wandering round the world in vain."

181

CHAPTER XII.

GRACE.

" Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet
Ducere nuda choros."

TTTHEN next day I called at Beau Sejour
™ " I was readily admitted. The people
at the Rom ay ne Arms had told me that
the dwellers here were Mrs. and Miss Smith.
The young lady did not strike me as looking
much like what society anticipates from a
Smith, even if there has been metamorphosis
to Smyth or Smythe or Smijth or Ssmith.
However, we have all known some remem-
berable Smiths. . . James, Horace, Sidney.

182 TRANSMIGRATION.

It is indeed the greatest of Teuton names.
Smith means smiter, whether on anvil or
on helm of foe : a great soldier was a war-
smith in the elder time. The name is a good
name, by no man to be despised.

Still I felt doubtful whether Smith was
the true name of the languid lady whom I
found in the room I had known so well long
years ago. She had been handsome — very ;
but, ah, she was very, very tired. The light
seemed asleep in her eyes. It was an evi-
dent trouble and weariness to raise her hand
— even to turn her eyes. I have never seen
anyone who seemed so worn out ; and it was
long before her time.

She was indolently courteous. She was
glad I felt any interest in the house. I was
welcome to come whenever I liked. She
had come there for quiet, but she willingly
received an intelligent visitor. Languid and

TRANSMIGRATION. 183

weary as she was, she could be loquacious
on occasion. I, for my part, wondered
whether she would ever drop her garrulity,
and collapse into quietude. I did not see
her often after this, for she was always ail-
ing : but I did see her daughter Grace. We
had many happy hours together.

Mrs. Smith was a very sensible woman.
She could not conquer her especial nervous
affection, brought on chiefly by mental dis-
turbance ; and she was most anxious that her
daughter should not suffer by constant attend-
ance upon her. So, when she saw me, and
saw that I was a man not likely to treat a lady
otherwise than courteously, she gave Grace
leave to ramble about with me, and we ex-
plored the vicinage thoroughly. Given the
Chapel of Suint Apollonia as a centre, and
a radius of five miles will give you, whether
archae-or-geo-or-ornithological, a very fine

184 TRANSMIGRATION.

field of observation. It is a beautifully rich
region. They were expecting me at Ro-
mayne Court, and I saw its sloping roofs
many a time in the sunset, as Grace and I
wandered together : but they waited for me
in vain till I had made myself most intimate
with Grace. 1 stayed on at the Romayne
Arms, to the delight of the chattering land-
lady, and the detriment of my digestion.

How unutterably joyous are the hours
spent in this pleasant way by youthful lovers
whose love is stainless ! Although perfectly
happy in the present, reminiscences of the
past and fears for the future troubled me.
Once I had loved and lost what I loved :
now I loved again, a girl so like Lucy Love-
lace that they might have been twin-sisters ;
and I often had times of terror lest some
unanticipated misfortune should part us.
Often this fear came upon me at night,

TRANSMIGRATION. 185

driving sleep away beyond the reach of
hope, causing it to fly from m}7, grasp as a
migratory sea-bird flies far across the dis-
tant hills, and is lost in the vague grey-blue
that follows the sunset. Then, leaving my
room at the Romayne Arms, I would
steal out in the depth of night into the well-
remembered garden of Beau Sejour, and
watch alternately my lady's window, and that
great procession of the stars which he who
knows its meaning can never tire of watch-
ing. Then at sunrise I would go down to
Saint Apollonia's Chapel, and have my
matutine refresher in the clear stream, and
return to breakfast with an amazing ap-
petite.

All this time I had not talked love to
Grace, in any direct way. We were playing
the game in boy and girl fashion. I felt
indeed loth to move too fast : the rapid and

186 TRANSMIGRATION.

prompt love-making of my earlier time had
given place to delight in delay. Grace and
I rambled and loitered, poetized and
botanized: we never seemed to be at a loss
for topics of pleasant chat, though indeed it
was delightful when there came upon us
the silent mood, and we sat hand in hand
upon some mossy bank, watching the lovely
play of the clouds, the endless ripple of the
stream, and wondering why the world was
filled so full of beauty. There was a
magnetism in the touch of our hands which
sufficed to make us both completely content.
I do not remember any moments of life so
peaceful as these. When Grace's tremulous
fingers rested in mine, my fears and my
fancies vanished. It was when alone that
the terrible thought would come upon me . . .
"Perhaps I may never see her again."
My relation to this child was duplex. I

TRANSMIGRATION. 187

had the passionate feeling of hot youth, and
could have clasped her to my arms with a
wild impulse of absorption, if I had not
been calmed and controlled by my first,
my elder self. Experience had taught me
that beautiful pure rosebuds should not be
plucked too soon : and I felt the absolute
philosophic. truth of Fouques exquisite con-
ception, Undine, in whom her lover must
create, or rather develop, a soul. My
fancies dwelt in the regions of the higher
love-poetry : I was in a Spenserian rather
than a Shakespearian mood. But in Grace
there was more than in gentle Edmund's
Una : there was more than in any of Shake-
speare's women, not excepting even my
favourite Rosalind: there was that luminous
transparency of character which I had never
seen in any woman save my lost Lucy.
And she had the same magnetism : not living

188 TRANSMIGRATION.

creatures only, but the very flowers seemed
to know her : the robin was more familiar
than with anyone else, the shy-eyed wren
stole near her unstartled, the dragon-fly lay
on a leaf while she stroked it with velvet
fingers : she could handle bees unstung, and
any flower she tended gave far fairer bloom
than those left to the old gardener's water-
ing-pot. Well had she been christened
Grace.

" Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye,
In all her gestures dignity and love."

It became necessary for me to show my-
self at Romayne Court, or my folk (though
uniquely tolerant of my eccentricity) would
begin to marvel at my absence. Thus had
I meditated on one of the mornings after a
sleepless night. As I walked up Five Tree
Hill I saw an unexpected sight ... a mail
phaeton stood at the gate of Beau Sejour, a

TRANSMIGRATION. 189

footman holding the horses' heads, while
another footman stood at the cottage gate.
It was a well-appointed equipage, and plen-
teous silver gleamed upon the harness of a
noble pair of roans. I grew alarmed. Who
could thus be calling at so early an hour on
simple quiet Mrs. Smith ?

Of course it was out of the question for
me to call and inquire, even had I been in
suitable costume : but I was very loose and
damp, cravated with a towel, so I made my
way back to the inn. Looking from my
bedroom window, just as I had finished dress-
ing, I was rather surprised to see my brother
Algy. He was strolling up and down as
if waiting for somebody ; and there was a
curious complacent look on his face, which
I had often noticed when he thought he
was doing something clever. Having no
particular wish to see him at that moment,

190 TRANSMIGRATION.

I sat down by the window and smoked.
Presently the mail-phaeton I had seen at
Beau Sejour gate drove up to the inn door :
the driver was a very handsome aristocrat of
fifty perhaps ... at any rate his hair and
moustache were white. He cjot out of the
carriage with difficulty, and walked quite
lame. My brother came up to him, and
through the open window I heard him say,

" I hope your interview was satisfactory,
my lord."

" What a fool you are, Marchmont !" he
said, in a voice so harsh that it resembled
nothing so much as a coffee-mill. " Nobody
ever yet had a satisfactory interview with a
woman — and nobody ever will."

Algernon took his snubbing witli angelic
submission, and followed his lordship into
the inn. I of course did not go down. In
about twenty minutes they came out and

TRANSMIGRATION. 191

drove away, and it was pretty clear they
were going to Romayne Court. Then I went
down and found a little note on my break-
fast table. It was from Grace. It ran
thus :

" Dear Rex,

[I had taught her to call me Rex, and I
called her Regina — and fifty other foolish
fantastic names],

" Please don't come to see me for a few
days. Some one has called who has made
Mamma very ill, and I must not leave her
till she is better. You know how nervous
she is. I can't tell you anything about her
trouble, for I only half guess myself, and
perhaps I am quite wrong.

" I will send a note the minute poor
Mamma is well enough for me to see you.
You won't go far away, will you ?

" Regina."

192 TRANSMIGRATION.

Well, I wrote the poor child a note, and
then I started for Romayne Court, thinking
that I might as well put in an appearance
during this opportunity, and that I might
also approximate to a solution of the mail-
phaeton mystery myself. Of course I gave
strict orders that if any note came for me in
my absence, it should be sent on by instant
courier. My little girl should not wait for
me a moment.

Walking into the pleasant lawns of
Romayne Court, dusty-footed, knapsack on
shoulder, I looked somewhat unlike the
probable inheritor of that domain. It was
now afternoon : I heard chatter and laughter
and clatter of balls. The girls were out at
croquet. The bishop of the Diocese, whose
croquet is as orthodox as his theology, was
carrying everything before him. Bishop
Lyndon is the best ladies' man on the

TRANSMIGRATION. 193

bench, and writes the loveliest album

verses. At an acrostic or a charade

he is unrivalled. Here is Kitty's " copy of

verse :"

" Kitty is beautiful and young,
I am, alas, a world too old
To celebrate her locks of gold,
To tell the music of her tongue,
Yet she might make Methusaleh bold !"

Kitty and the Bishop were in full flirtation
as I crossed the croquet lawn. I did not
go up to the gay group, but Dot saw rne as
I passed through a yew archway, and
came flying after me, and gave me a shower
of kisses.

" 0 Rex, I am so glad to see you. What
a wanderer you have been !"

" Mamma well ?" I asked.

" Very ; I think she has never been in
higher spirits. Uncle Paul said the other
day at lunch, ' I wonder where Rex is ?'

vol. in. o

194 TRANSMIGRATION.

' 0,' said mamma, ' he's safe enough. We
shall see him soon. I dare say he's making
love to somebody.' Papa laughed."

"I hope Perivale is here, Dot," I said.
The young monkey pinched me.

" No, he is not ; but he is coming to-
morrow, the dear ugly old boy."

"And you like him still?"

"Don't I? He is so clever. I used to
think you clever, Rex, but he knows every-
thing. And then he is so modest and gentle
and brave. I say, Rex dear, don't tell any-
body— I mean him to be Lord Chancellor."

"Well done, Dot!" said I; "a capital
Chancellor he'll make ; there's not so able a
lawyer in England. I shall see you a
peeress yet, my child. By the way, is Algy
here?"

"0 yes. 0, I want to tell you. Algy
came this morning with an old gentleman in

TRANSMIGRATION. 195

a carriage and pair, and they had a long
talk with papa ; and the old gentleman is
staying here, but keeps to his own rooms,
and nobody is told his name. Isn't it
mysterious ?"

" He may be one of Algy's stockbroking
friends," I said, " who has reasons for being
out of the way. Never mind. Tell me if
you hear anything. Go and amuse the
Bishop : I must put myself in order, and
then see the mater."

Dot ran back to her episcopal croquet, and
1 went to my rooms. It appeared to me
there was something odd about this mys-
terious stranger — something rather beyond
a stockbroking complication. The man look-
ed unlike a stockbroker, and Algy had my-
lorded him. Why was he at Beau Sejour ?
How had his call made Grace's mother
ill ? These were the problems which I

o 2

196 TRANSMIGRATION.

tried to solve as I splashed and dressed.

My mother was alone in her own apart-
ment, and we had our tea and gossip toge-
ther. Between her and me was always
full intellectual accord. She was the most
willing listener to my stories of mild adven-
ture. I resolved on this occasion that I would
tell her about Grace. I put it all before her
as well as I could, and did my best to describe
the peculiar unique beauty of my darling.
She seemed quite to understand.

" Ah, Rex," she said, " she will be a dear
daughter, I know : but you must not let her
make you forget me. It is very wrong,
Rex, I know ; but I can't help loving you
better than Algy, or even Dot."

Did I wonder ?

197

CHAPTER XIII.

HIS LORDSHIP.

Genius is often eaten through with bitterness,
By what may seem a very trifling accident.

The Comedy of Dreams.

7T1HE day after my arrival at Romayne
-*- Court my father and I had a brief con-
versation in his private room. He was in
the best of temper. Indeed it was a very
rare thing for him to be otherwise : if a man
who has perfect health and prosperity, and
the best wife in the world, cannot maintain
an equable temper, who can ? Yet we know
that many of the most fortunate men in the
world are also the worst-tempered.

198 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Rex," he said, " I am glad to see you
again. You have been quite a wanderer. I
hope you have enjoyed your time. Some day
I suppose you will think of settling down ;
but there is no hurry — not the least hurry.
Algy has been so successful that he is quite
independent of me, and will be richer than
ever I have been : and Dot is engaged to marry
Perivale, one of the most rising men at the
bar : so you can go on taking holiday as
long as you like. Indeed, unless you have
some special fancy for occupation, I don't
see why you need be anything but a country
gentleman. This estate is quite enough for
one man to manage, and I think the position
of an English landed proprietor one of the
happiest — perhaps the very happiest — in the
world."

"You are very kind, sir," I answered.
u I know no happier place in life."

TRANSMIGRATION. 199

" Well," went on my father, " when you
have rambled long enough, settle down
here and help me. There are lots of things
to be done which I am too indolent to do
effectively — some indeed which I am not
qualified to effect. I want a perfect picture
gallery and a perfect library : but really I am
a mere ignoramus in pictures and books."

It certainly struck me that these ambitions
of my father's were far wiser than his happi-
ly short-lived fancy for getting into Parlia-
ment : and I responded to them with enthu-
siasm, feeling quite willing to terminate my
wanderings, now that I had seen Grace, and
loved her.

" By- the- way, Rex," said my father,
" there is a gentleman staying here who
wants to be incognito : he is down on some
family business in which Algy is helping
him, and does not wish his name to be

200 TRANSMIGRATION.

known. So, when he is introduced as Mr.
Johnson, don't say anything if you should
happen to have met him. I don't care
about that sort of thing myself : but Algy is
a long-headed fellow, and I let him have
his way."

" I am not likely to know him," I said,
" for I have few acquaintances : but, in any
case, his secret is safe with me."

When I left the paternal presence, I
strolled into the gardens, which were in
exquisite beauty, and enjoyed the odour
and colour of innumerable flowers. There
was nobody in the grounds yet ; our guests
for the most part were lazy, and lingered
long over their luxurious breakfast. As I
was rambling in a reverie, a lovely white
figure came gaily tripping over the grass — it
was Miss Dot, in some ethereal white stuff,
rather like a cloud-fleece, sprinkled all
over with bows of blue.

TRANSMIGRATION. 201

" I expect hini every minute, Rex," she
cried.

Him ! When a girl expects all the world
to recognize Him — and indeed thinks Him the
only He in the world, things look serious.
This was Dot's case. I tried to chaff her.

" Perhaps he won't come."

11 0, won't he ? Don't you talk nonsense
to me, Rex. Ah ! there he is !"

He was. A burly broad-shouldered
ugly resolute eloquent man, striding across
the lawn as if he were after the grouse.
Dot ran into his arms without hesitation.
She was not a bit ashamed of her love, dear
child !

" Ha! Rex, I am glad to meet you here.
May I have some breakfast ? Came away
without any, for I had to read a lot of
briefs last night, and this morning I had no
appetite. I knew I should be all right

202 TRANSMIGRATION.

down here ; and I'm as hungry as a hunter
now."

" Dot will give you breakfast, and feed
you with kisses, I doubt not, if you think
you can live upon them. Tell them to
send something up to your own little room,
Kitty, and I'll come and play propriety, and
drink a glass of seltzer."

Dot's sanctum was in a turret — hexagonal
— with three windows. Thus :

DOT S
ROOM.

D

E D is the entrance from the house : F A,
A B, B C, are embayed windows, looking
far over park and woodland, and fertile
country sprinkled with villages clustering

TRANSMIGRATION. 203

around ancient churches, and one great
town, and one great river running to the
sea. F E and D C are exquisitely filled
by full-length life-sized portraits of my
father and mother on panel. From B C
there is a capital view of the main ter-
races on the south front of the house. I
sat at the open window, while Dot gave
Perivale his breakfast and he gave her his
pleasant flattery, and watched the groups now
coming out to enjoy the summer sunshine.
Perivale had come with a field-glass over
his shoulder — it was a first-class Dollond,
with which I could scrutinize the faces of
the people as if they were close to me . . .
far better, indeed, since they did not know
I was looking; at them, and therefore did
not put on the mask of hypocrisy. There
were among the crowd few people whom I
knew : but I liked examining the pretty vain

204 TRANSMIGRATION.

girls and the simpering self-satisfied swells,
and trying to guess at their character. I
wonder whether the seraphs similarly amuse
themselves in looking through glasses of

O Do

immense force at the population of a myriad
orbs.

As I looked at the second of the three
terraces, mv father and Algy and " Mr.
Johnson " came into focus. They were
talking with curious earnestness. Algernon
was the chief speaker; he was intensely ani-
mated ; he talked fast, gesticulated, looked
like a French orator. My father and Mr.
Johnson seemed well pleased with all he
said.

"What are you looking at, Rex?" asked
Perivale, suddenly. He and Dot had
noticed my interest in the scene.

" See for yourself."

I handed him the glass, and pointed out

TRANSMIGRATION. 205

to him the group of three. He examined
them long and stedfastly ; then he said,

" Who is the grey-haired man with your
father, Rex?"

" A Mr. Johnson, I am told."

" Duplex nomen malum omen" quoth
Perivale. " I have known him by another
name. He is one of the most remarkable
men in Europe, and one of the most unscru-
pulous. I hope he does not want to borrow
money of your father ?"

" I don't know. The old boy can afford
to lose a little, I suppose. But can't you
tell me more about this fellow, Perivale?
What's his true name ?"

" You've a right to know. Rex, but don't
ask me to tell you this minute. He's a peer,
he's a poet, and used to be enormously
popular — long before your time."

" Much you know about my time," I
thought.

206 TRANSMIGRATION.

"He wrote the maddest possible poetry
— really good, you know, but fiercely mad
— all because he was afflicted with a squint.
Otherwise he was a splendid-looking fellow,
but he still squints a little, though he has
been tortured horribly by an infinite series
of operators for strabismus. After every
operation he wrote a madder poem than
the last : and all the young ladies were in
love with his verse till the sentimental style
grew suddenly fashionable. When he
found his books wouldn't sell, he quarreled
with his publisher, and horsewhipped him,
for which he was brought into Court, and
had to pay heavy damages. Meanwhile,
he had married ... a lady of great beauty
and intellect and wealth — but of a some-
what pious temperament. It was what I
call the disease of piety, born from physical
weakness of the nerves. They were utter-

TRANSMIGRATION. 207

ly unfit to live together ; he, robust and
fearless, but savage through his physical
ailment : she, a nervous creature, to whom,
a ray too much of sunshine, or a note too
much of music would be a positive distress.

" They separated. I don't think they
had any children. He went in for all sorts
of excitements. He threw away the great-
er part of his estate at the gaming-table ;
then he tried keeping race-horses, with
the hope of recovering himself: and you
may easily imagine the result. Then he
went in for railway and joint-stock specu-
lation— and I believe he is there now.
Perhaps that is what he wants to talk to
Algernon about."

" You would rather not tell me his
name ?" I said.

"Not to-day— you will know it soon
enough."

208 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Does he know you personally ?"

" 0 yes, and I mean presently to take an
opportunity of speaking to him, if I get a
chance. To say truth, Rex, I am not over-
pleased to see this man here, so intimate
with your father and brother. They are
able men of business, no doubt : but his
cunning and plausibility are quite without
parallel. What I think of doing is, to meet
him as if by accident, and see if I can elicit
from him any hint or outline of his plans."

This was accepted as really a first-class
idea : I knew Perivale's wonderful talent
well, and trusted him fully, so I said,

" Do as you like : only don't waste too
much time upon it, to Dot's detriment."

Whereon Dot pinched me severely.

That afternoon I rode over to Five Tree
Hill, and saw my Grace on the lawn at
Beau Sejour for two or three minutes. She

TRANSMIGRATION. 209

was a little fagged by nursing, and I heart-
ily wished I could help her. Mrs. Smith
seemed no better at all, and the child was
in real distress : she did not know any of
her mother's relations : she did not even
know whether her father was dead or
alive. It was a lonely position for her ; how
I wished I had a legal right to help her ! I
resolved that the attainment of such a
right should not long be postponed.

Evidently there was something in her
mother's illness which embarrassed her, for
she told me as little as possible, and she
seemed almost glad for me to go away.
Well, I could forgive her, knowing there
must be some trouble that she could only
guess, or that she dared not tell. I did my
best in our brief interview to console her,
and I think I did not altogether fail. Dear
Grace ! how her luminous • beauty haunted

VOL. III. p

210 TRANSMIGRATION.

me as I rode home against the soft south
■wind.

I had only just time to dress for dinner.
Coming in as the company moved, I took
down Miss Azura Primer, a tall young lad}r,
with the most audacious assumptions and
the most ineffable ignorance that ever were
combined. She was sallow, freckled, lean,
bony, awkward. She informed me that
she was chairwoman of a School Board
(at least she would have said so if
School Boards had been invented), and
that she had written a treatise on the
Integral Calculus. I listened as little as
possible : it was a large party, which I hate.
I amused myself with a slice of undercut of
sirloin, and with watching Dot and Perivale,
who were happily niched together, a little
farther up on the other side.

These huge parties are an abomination

TRANSMIGRATION. 211

when they come often. If the dinner is a
nuisance, the withdrawing room is worse. I
do not endorse Mr. Austin's line . . .
" Where the half-drunk lean over the half-dressed,"

for drinking too much is a rare offence — I
sometimes think onl}7 too rare. In vino Veri-
tas.

The billiard and smoking-rooms also be-
come an abomination when a large country
house is very full. The bad play in the
former — the stupid and sometimes vulgar
talk in the latter — are enough to make a
man despise and even detest his species. As
I walked off to my room that evening, I
ejaculated . . .

" Ah, my dear father, if I succeed you
here as manager of affairs, I won't fill my
house so full, and I'll choose my people
better."

The fact is, my father has always been too

p2

212 TRANSMIGRATION.

good-natured. It is a miracle it didn't ruin
him. Perivale came to see me just as I had
got into my dressing-gown, and had lighted
a cigar and taken down a volume of
Swift.

" I'll have a cigar with you, Rex," he said.
" Just one, and a final drop of Cerevisia
Hibernica. Look here, I have been talking
to Mr. Johnson. He recognized me ; he
begged me not to tell anybody who he is.
He innocently told me all his plot. Shall I
reveal ?"

" It is a subtle case of casuistry," I gravely
said. "It may be resolved on the ninth
formula of Adrianus de Verona : ' Whoso-
ever obiaineili a secret which is important to a
friend, should at once communicate it to his
friend.' "

"You may laugh," he said. "Now look
here. There is, from Mr. Johnson's confi-

TRANSMIGRATION. 213

dential statements to nie, a scheme between
your father and Algernon and him to carry
out a double marriage. He is to marry
Kitty."

" Nonsense," I said. " Kitty is yours."

"Ah," he replied, with a melancholy
look, "that's the scheme, I assure you."

"Dot and I will upset that scheme, my dear
Eustace, I can tell you. I don't understand
my father's weakness, except that he has
come to believe Algernon infallible. I'll
soon set that right, old boy. What else ?"

He grasped my hand, gratefully.

" Well," he said, " your brother is to have
Mr. Johnson's daughter as a per centage on
the negotiation."

"Will she be rich?"

"By-and-by, I believe. But then, you
know, Mr. Johnson is . . ."

" Who the devil is Mr. Johnson ?"

214 TRANSMIGRATION.

" The Earl ofLesbury."

It struck me like a shot. Several things
became clear at once.

" Go to bed, old fellow," quoth I to the
Q.C. "I must think this over. I can foil
them."

215

CHAPTER XIV.

SHARP WORK.
" What thou doest, do quickly."

T SUPPOSE I inherit some of my father's
-■- promptitude. I thought this matter out.
I did not go to bed. Early in the morn-
ing I ordered out a waggonette and a pair of
horses and drove over to Five Tree Hill. I
saw Grace. Her mother was better, but
still very unwell : indeed it was clear enough
that her ultimate recovery was impossible.
However, to-day she was quite cheerful, and
very willing that my beautiful darling should
taste the fresh air in my company.

216 TRANSMIGRATION.

We went down to Saint Apollonia's
Chapel. Doubtless the saintly destroyer of
neuralgia looked kindly upon us that day.

Ah, it was a merry morning. The lark
sang in the very same note as when Romeo
mistook him for the nightingale. Grace was
as happy and as gay as that wild soarer to
the sky. I thought of Goethe's lyric :

" O maiden ! maiden !
How love I thee !
How shine thy sweet eyes !
How lovest thou me !

' ' So the lark loveth
Air and wild song,
And the morn-music

Heaven's clouds among."

It is not every day one meets the ab-
solutely simple and innocent child who
has never learnt to reason, but whose at-
mosphere is purity, and whose instincts are
love and disdain.

We wandered along the rivulet's marge :

TRANSMIGRATION . 217

ah, how often had I wandered that
self-same way with Mavis Lee ! But change
had come over the scene : I thought of the
immortal Persian wanderer who found a city
where there had been the sea when he last
went that way, and a few centuries later a
forest where there had been the city.
I am afraid my darling Grace often found
me dull : for my fancy would often go off
into the past, and my casuistic intellect
would perplex me as to my proper relation
with Mavis Marchmont — my pupil of Five
Tree Hill, my mother now.

Of course I understood, since my talk with
Perivale, why Grace was so like my lost
Lucy. She was her granddaughter. Per-
chance, I thought, Lucy's lovely spirit had
passed into the daughter of her son. If so,
how well should I be rewarded for my sad
loss in the olden time ! But to verifv this

218 TRANSMIGRATION.

idea there was no way. The soul loses its
memory in its transit. My exceptional case
had few precedents ... if any since Pytha-
goras.

" Grace," I said, after plentiful pleasant
nonsense, " you and I are very good friends,
but I have never asked you a question
which I have long decided to ask you. I
have put off asking it because I think I
know what the answer will be. But now
there is a reason why I must ask you at
once."

The beautiful girl was sitting on a grassy
knoll beneath an oak of wondrous girth.
She had taken off her gipsy hat, and was
swinging it by its ribbon. She looked at
me with a merry defiant smile, but said no-
thing.

"If I ask you a question, will you sa.y yes
whatever the question is?"

" Yes, yes, yes I" she said, putting her

TRANSMIGRATION. 219

pretty little pink hand in mine. "0, I
know your question, and I know the answer —
and you may talk as much as you like, but I
understand what your eyes say. Now, sir, if
you want me, here I am ; if you don't, throw
me away."

How lovely she was, with her pretty ges-
ture half-love and half- defiance !

" Grace," I said, holding her hand, and
looking into the lucid depths of her lumin-
ous eyes, "you won't be frightened, will
you, at what I want you to do ?"

"Frightened!" she answered. "No,
Rex, you won't frighten me. I will do
anything you command."

" You will marry me to-morrow, and say
nothing about it."

" What fun ! Where is it to be? I am
quite ready."

The affair was easily settled. I got home
to dinner, having arranged to meet her next

220 TRANSMIGRATION.

day and drive her to Redborougb, having
also made the requisite arrangement for a
special license. I was quite resolved not to
lose this beautiful heiress of Lucy's wondrous
charms : I was delightedly resolved to foil
my brother Algernon.

The evening was dull to me, but rather
pleasant, I think, to most of the company ;
for the jovial Bishop was there, who played
croquet and chess, who made epigrams and
enigmas, who in fact established the Church
on a basis wholly his own. Here is a
charade which he wrote in Dot's album that

" Ah, fiercely my First
Has demolished the foe,
When the wild battle-thirst
Brought ineffable woe.

" Ah, slowly my Second
Demolished my First :
My Second is reckoned
Of evils the worst.

TRANSMIGRATION. 221

" Ab, my Whole you will curse,

Though your taste of it's cursory :
It makes everyone worse

Save small folk in the nursery."

There was much quiet confabulation be-
tween Algernon and " Mr. Johnson," but I
took no notice of them, and amused myself
in my own way. Most of the evening I
spent with my mother ; and when, rather
late, I took her candle to her own apart-
ment, I told her I meant to marry next day
— the same day, I ought to have said, for
midnight was past. I explained to her that
the marriage was to be a profound secret,
as yet, telling her partly why. She con-
sented to keep the secret ; I went off to find
my Lady Grace. Lady Grace Lesbury !
By Jove ! it sounds uncommon well. Lady
Grace Marchmont is not bad. I was at
Five Tree Hill a great deal earlier than was
necessary that morning ; but the right time

222 TRANSMIGRATION.

came, and I drove Grace into Red borough,
and the parson and the license were both
there.

How surprised she was when I told her
who she was, and that she must sign her
name Grace Lesbury ! She knew that there
was something strange in the relations be-
tween her father and mother ; she knew
that the latter had endured great suffering
through her husband's treatment; she had
sometimes doubted whether her name was
really Smith. But hers was no inquisitive
temper, and she loved her mother too well
to trouble her with questions : so she was
ignorant of her real name and rank till I of
necessity had to tell her.

" So you see I am running away with an
Earl's daughter, Grace," I said.

She answered with a loving look, and
signed her new-discovered name with a hand
that did not tremble.

TRANSMIGRATION. 223

I drove Grace home toward Beau Sejour
in capital time for breakfast. "What a jolly
drive it was ! There was to be perfect
secresy, and she was discreet. I dropped
her quietly near (not too near) Five Tree
Hill, giving her instruction what to do amid
all conceivable circumstances. She liked
the fun extremely. I was back at Romayne
Court, important as had been my business,
before the general folk down to breakfast.
Our matutinal habits, as 1 think has been
remarked, were always free and easy ; they
are free and easy now, dear reader, as you
may see for yourself if you like to call and
investigate the subject.

Now, having made the winning move on
the chess-board, I could watch with consi-
derable amusement the politics of the other
players. It was odd that so acute a man as
my brother Algernon had left the lady quite
out of his scheme, taking for granted that she

224 TRANSMIGRATION.

would do exactly what he wished without
the slightest recalcitration : but it was one
of a thousand proofs within my own know-
ledge that the men who understand finance
are not the men who understand women.
Algy had made Lord Lesbury's acquaint-
ance, and helped him out of some of his
difficulties, and received promise of Lady
Grace as a reward. That, I found, was the
state of affairs. The Earl's notion of marry-
ing Dot was of mixed origin : he saw the
child was excessive in beauty : he heard
that she would have money. The Earl's ex-
istence had been a chronic cry for pretty
girls and more money.

It was rather odd that in the course of
the day my father opened again on the sub-
ject with me. I was reading quietly in the
library when I heard his step.

"Studious as usual," said my reverend

TRANSMIGRATION. 225

sire, who would never open a book if lie
could help it, and who was on his way to
the girls at the archery. " You ought to
grow very wise in time, Rex. When do
you think of being more practical ? When do
you propose to get married ?"

" I should like to find a wife like my mo-
ther, sir," I (the married man) hypocriti-
cally said.

" I wish you could," he answered. "As
you cannot, what do you think of doing ?"

" I think of waiting," was my reply.
" There is no hurry in my case. It is pro-
bably more important that Algernon should
make a good match. He understands those
things. When he has a bisj house close to
Hyde Park, and his wife gives parties at
which one meets Royal Highnesses, he will
be happy. That is not my idea of happiness,
but I know the world would deem me a fool."

VOL. III. Q

226 TRANSMIGRATION.

"What is your idea of happiness?" said
my father, rather sharply.

" Perfect independence," I replied.
" Enough to live upon, and sufficient common
sense to despise a fool, even though he is a
lord. If I cannot have enough to live on
by inheritance I am prepared by manual
labour to earn enough to live upon. Still I
have no wish for a future of manual labour."

My father laughed in his pleasant easy
way.

" You shall have all I can give you, Rex ;
but how much it will be, I can't guess, for
everybody's on strike. I like your independ-
ent style. I have always wished I could
live a life beyond the reach of ordinary ideas
— a poetic life, I may say — but the chance has
never been inven nie. Now that vou have

O J

a little time to spare, you might inquire
whether a poetic life is possible."

"Any life," I said, "is possible to a man

TRANSMIGRATION. 227

of sound mind, under any conditions. Our
chief troubles are due to the maladies and
follies which we inherit from our forefathers.
I don't myself complain, but ninety-nine
souls out of a hundred are uncomfortably
wedged into very close quarters, because the
said souls left nothing in the way of space
for the tailors. I suppose the modern Eng-
lish tailor is the acme of trading fools."

"Tailors are like the church," said my
father, " you must respect them, or you will
be set down as a heretic. Go to a good church
in a gentlemanly costume, and your fortune
is made. But now, Rex, tell me something
about yourself. What do you think of
doing ?"

" Nothing at present, sir, thank you : the
weather is too hot. Do you really mean, in
such frightful weather as this, to enter the
archery ground ? The girls in green seem

Q2

228 TRANSMIGRATION.

to like it : but I have observed that heat and
cold do not affect unmarried ladies, when the
opposite sex is near."

" Rex, you won't be serious," said the
head of the house of Marchmont. " I've a
great oifer for Kitty that will make her a
peeress. I want you to show her the
wisdom of accepting it."

" My dear sir," I said, " have you forgot-
ten that you accepted Perivale as a suitable
husband for Dot? They are engaged, if I
understand aright ? Do vou want me to have
to fight a duel with Perivale ? He won't
stand any nonsense, that I know."

" It would be folly," rejoined my father,
" to let her marry a barrister, when she can
be Lady Lesbury to-morrow. Lord Lesbury
is perfectly willing, and he wishes that at
the same time his daughter should inarrv
Algernon. It will be a double family ar-
rangement."

TRANSMIGRATION. 229

My father was evidently so strong in
favour of what he imagined a grand alliance
(though I never have been able to understand
the middle-class mania for pauper peers and
bankrupt barons), that he was willing to
throw our beautiful Dot into Lesbury's lap.
Lesbury was a poet : granted. Lesbury was
a patrician : granted. Lesbury was young for
his age : granted. My theory is that, for all
this, he was neither poetic nor aristocratic
nor young enough for Dot. I told my
father what I thought as mildly as I could.
He still deemed it Dot's duty not to refuse
a peer. Odd that a man of wonderful
common sense should desire to wed his only
daughter, a beautiful and accomplished girl,
to a worn-out old nobleman.

This sort of thing proves that the aristo-
cratic idea has not yet reached the dense
depths of the common English intellect.
Ah, but what is the aristocratic idea ?

230

CHAPTER XV.

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT.

"What can ennoble sots or slaves or cowards ?
Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards."

niHIS couplet, which (to illustrate forensic
■*- literature) Mr. Kenealy quoted inac-
curately, and the Lord Chief Justice at-
tributed to Byron, came into my mind as I
talked to " Mr. Johnson." How is one to
account for a fellow like Everard, Lord
Lesbury, being the son of such a noble
couple as my old friend and Lucy ? Curious
arc the transformations of life ; only to be

TRANSMIGRATION. 23 1

accounted for, whatsoever Mr. Darwin may
say, by the theory of divine interference.
Years ago I bought in Saint Martin's Lane
six tumbler pigeons, four blue and two
almond : I see their descendants now upon
my roof. . . they are all white. Why? Why
am I the only member of my family who
ever wrote a line of verse ? Is there a law
to explain these things?

" 0 Fancy, what an age was that for song !
That age when not by laics inanimate,
As men believed, the waters were impelled,
The air controlled, the stars their courses held ;
But element and orb on acts did wait
Of Poicers endured with visible form !"

So Wordsworth : who indeed has dealt
with the question in his very highest mood
in the immortal sonnet beginning "The
world is too much with us." The tendency
of theorists nowaday is to refer everything
to law. Who ordained the law? Who

232 TRANSMIGRATION.

evolved cosmos from chaos? Tis the old
story : if the world rests on a colossal ele-
phant, and the elephant on a gigantic tor-
toise, what supports the tortoise? I, who
can hear the voice of God in the rustling
lime-leaves, and see his finger in the wind-
driven clouds, am not concerned to argue
with scientists who have fewer faculties than
mine. You cannot teach a blind man
colour, or a deaf man music.

Here is Lord Lesbury. What with
his Earldom, and his fine patrician style,
and his youth-won renown, he fascinates
everybody. He conquers my father: he
almost conquers Uncle Paul : my mother
and Dot don't quite like him. Women
have a finer instinct than men in such
matters : yet even women are sometimes
apt to blunder, and to accept a man on the
strength of his title and rent-roll, his castle

TRANSMIGRATION. 233

and family diamonds. I wouldn't have
answered for Dot if she had not previously
encountered her ugly, able Queen's Counsel.
As the days passed on, there were confer-
ences among the conspirators which I un-
noticingly noticed. Lord Lesbury had
frightened his wife, who was weakened by
ill-health, into a state of absolute subjection.
This I learnt from Grace, whom I saw
every day in the ancient cemetery by Saint
Apollonia's Chapel. We enjoyed that time,
with all its complexities. We were man
and wife, and could laugh at the plotters
who strove to put my beautiful girl in other
hands. Poor Algernon ! I verified my
nickname, and was Rex this time at any
rate. Grace and I wandered where Mavis
and I had wandered . . . ah, how long ago !
Memory of that sweet old time blended
with present enjoyment, as the thought of

234 TRANSMIGRATION

yesterday's saffron sunset blends with the
delight of to-day's unclouded noon : and to
me it was unutterable pleasure that Grace
would know Mavis — that I should be the
link between them.

Dot soon came to me, telling her troubles.
Papa had been lecturing her, she said, on
the wisdom of becoming a peeress. Count-
ess of Lesbury, she would have a house in
Park Lane. Countess of Lesbury, she would
be a leader of fashion in London. The
Earl's fame and the Countess's brilliant
beauty would be without parallel. This
was how they tempted Dot . . . but Dot was
true to her Queen's Counsel.

The Q.C. had been obliged to return to
London after a day or two at Romayne
Court : so I had little Kitty on my hands,
and felt those hands tolerably full. What
I could not easily decide was the best way

TRANSMIGRATION. 235

to get Dot out of danger. Lesbury pursued
her all day long, and she would come to
me almost hysterical after the interviews with
him which she could not escape without of-
fending my father. 0 how sentimental the
old fox was ! I pitied Dot, but I could not
quite see the best way out of the affair. I did
not want to quarrel with my father, whose
kindness of heart was so true and thorough
that it seemed a shame to thwart him. Yet
he must be thwarted eventually. Dot must
be Mrs. Perivale, and not Lady Lesbury.

Lesbury went over to Five Tree Hill one
morning. I happened to know that he was
£oin2r, for I went rather late to the stables
the evening before, to look at a young
horse that seemed rather weak in the fet-
lock. I was trying to get a good team for
a four-in-hand. It was a fancy of my
father's, who, however, knew nothing of

236 TRANSMIGRATION.

horses, and had not nerve to drive. I,
having driven four when George the Third
was King, rather liked the idea. I had four
chestnuts, beautifully matched, and was
afraid that this fellow, whom I had tried as
off-leader, was likely to break down.
Hence I chanced to be in the stables when
the head-groom was leaving ; and his last
words had reference to a close carriage be-
ing ready for Lord Lesbury next day at
ten, to go to Five Tree Hill. I found my
young chestnut in good form, so I told the
man in charge to have the drag ready at
the stables at the same hour. 1 thought I
would have a little fun. I saw Dot that
evening : she was in white muslin, and
looked exquisite : she had just been singing
for my father, who loved her clear contralto
voice, a favourite song. The echo was
in the air as I entered the room, where my

TRANSMIGRATION. 237

mother was lounging in an easy-chair, while
Lesbury, an ancient beau, turned over
Kittv's music. The words were something
like this :

"July becomes December,
And fever turns to fret ;
I wish I could remember,
Or else I could forget.

" Who was the little fairy
I madly used to woo ?
Her name perhaps was Mary :
Her eyes perhaps were blue.

" No more my hot heart kindles
At the sweet darling's name :
Love's niighty sunlight dwindles
Into a rush-light flame.

"Ah, sweet, sweet, sweet, I found them,
The maiden lips I kissed :
Now cruel time has drowned them
In melancholy mist.

" In this old heart's dull ember
Some fire is lurking yet :
I wish I could remember . . .
I wish I could forget."

This was the little half-sad half-cynical song
which Dot was finishing as I entered : I

238 TRANSMIGRATION.

write it from memory, so, if I have mis-
quoted, I hope for the versifier's pardon. It
seemed to me that it had a moral for
Everard, Lord Lesbury, but he did not
wince.

This man was playing a curious game.
He wanted to marry Dot, for reasons
already stated : he offered his daughter as a
wife for Algernon, as a bribe. But there
was a difficulty. His wife was alive : she
was not likely to live long : and he had mar-
ried her in such a way that he thought it
possible to prove the marriage a nullity.
What should he do — wait for her death or
disown her? The former course would try
his patience : the latter might make my
brother Algernon unwilling to marry Grace.
I, at this time, was slightly uncertain whether
Mrs. Smith was really Countess of Lesbury
(or " Mrs. Johnson "), though inclining to

TRANSMIGRATION. 239

believe she was : but it made no difference
to me in regard to my darling little wife.
How should it concern me whether, beW
the daughter of an unscrupulous scoundrel,
she was legitimate or illegitimate ?

I saw old Lesbury's carriage and pair
pull up at the front entry. He got in,
scowling as if he were off on some business
he did not like, and was driven away. By
my instructions, a pair of slow old horses
had been put in the carriage : and I had
great satisfaction in depicting to myself
Lord Lesbury chafing at their tardy move-
ment.

When he was gone, I went down to the
stables. My team was ready. A couple of
grooms got up behind. One, little Burns, a
Scotch Irishman, was unequalled at telling
a lie, grooming a horse, and blowing a horn.
Off we went, fourteen good miles an hour,

240 TRANSMIGRATION.

and soon passed Lord Lesbury. At the
gate of Beau Sejour I descended.

Grace was on the lawn, in a garden hat,
culling flowers with garden scissors, looking
as Eve would have looked in Paradise if
petticoats had been invented. She ran to
me, my sweet maiden wife, with a happy
smile. I said,

"Darling, how is Mamma?"

" Fancy," she replied, "Mamma is gone
to London ! Her lawyer came down to
see her the day before yesterday — such a
nice old gentleman ! Papa is very wicked :
he has been trying to prove they were never
married. But the lawyer has found out
something that made Mamma quite cheer up
ao;ain. So she went to London to see the
clergyman that married her ; only think —
he's a bishop now."

"Well, Grace," I said, "this is amusing!

TRANSMIGRATION. 241

Your amiable father is on his way here at
this moment. I don't know what he wants.
I suppose to frighten your mother."

" Oh, I cant see him," said Grace.

" No, beauty — not a bit of it. Pack up
some trifles as fast as you can, and come
with me. I want to get you away from
here before Lord Lesbury arrives."

Off she tripped. What a sweet innocent
thing ! What a flower of merry maiden-
hood ! Faith, I have had my experiences :
and nothing do I know more beautiful than
a boy before he fancies himself a man — a
girl before she fancies herself a woman.
This little wife of mine was only a girl. She
will be a richer riper rarer creature when
she is a woman : but now that she is only
a rose-bud (a white rose-bud, red at the
core) 0, how sweet she is !

Soon she returned. I found no difficulty

VOL. III. R

242 TRANSMIGRATION.

in lifting so light a creature to the box-seat
by my side. Away went the team at no end
of a pace ; and we passed Lesbury a mile
from Five Tree Hill ; and we drove merrily
up to the front of Romayne Court, Burns
blowing his horn with Hiberavian energy.

My father had gone to Redborough to
the petty sessions. My mother, they told
me, was in Kitty's hexagonal room ; giving
the child a lecture, I assumed. What was
their colloquy about, I wondered. That my
mother did not like Lesbury, and did like
Perivale, I knew full well.

" Come, Grace," I said, and led her up the
stately stair, and along a wide corridor which
led her to Dot's turret room. Now I wish I
could describe Grace as at this moment she
seemed. The sweet strong living love in her
was like the light in a lamp ; her eyes bright-
ened with it, her face flushed with it, her hands

TRANSMIGRATION. 243

trembled with it, her heart beat with it. As
we passed along that corridor, her wonder-
ful eyes looked into mine with a passion of
power : the)7 seemed to say — Love! Love !
Yes : it was then I fully learnt that love is
pleasure and power, that love is virtue and
vigour, that love is the singer's sweetness
and the soldier's strength. Grace has eyes
that talk, and their talk is music and wis-
dom. My mother and Dot were talking in
the window marked A B in the diagram.
Both rose from the window-seat as we en-
tered.

"Your wife?" said my mother. "My
dear child ! Dot, here is a sister for you."

Poor dear Dot was taken by surprise.
Ah, but to see Mavis Marchmont, mother of
mine, looking into the eyes of Grace, ques-
tioning her wordlessly, trying to find out
whether she was really good enough (being

r2

244 TRANSMIGRATION.

indeed a world too good) for this scapegrace
son of hers.

It often puzzles me that both my father
and mother like me better than Algy,
though he is so decided a success and I am
so decided a failure. I try to account for
my mother's preference because she was my
pupil : but my father perfectly perplexes me.

Dot and Grace soon got as playful as a
couple of fawns. There was tea for the
probably exhausted Grace — orange-pekoe in
dainty Du Barry china. My mater, knowing
all about it, petted her intensely.

I got into her neighbourhood and emitted
a whisper while Dot and Grace were laugh-
ing <>ver their dainty refreshment.

" Mamma," said I, " I want Grace to stay
here to-night. She is my wife, you know.
I want to show her, as my wife, to my father
and Lesbury."

TRANSMIGRATION. 245

Mavis, mater mea, ordered the choicest
suite of rooms to be ready. I took Grace
to them. I caught her in my arras. What,
think you, she said . . .

" 0 Rex !"

And then I had to warn her that at din-
ner she would have to meet not only my
father, but her own.

" I shall be quite brave with you, Rex,"
she said.

And she fulfilled her promise.

246

CHAPTER XVI.

FATHER AND SON.

Astrologos. — Confound that son of mine, he does astonish

me.
Alouette. — Daughters would do the same, sir, if they had

the chance.

The Comedy of Dreams.

TAISCOMFITED returned Lord Lesbury.
-*-^ Tired returned my father, having
helped to adjudicate in two cases of unlaw-
fully cutting furze, and three of bastardy.
Neither looked quite happy when k they en-
tered the withdrawing room before dinner. I
was there ; not in a dress coat, which I have
always hated, but in a black velvet slouch,

TRANSMIGRATION. 247

and a general Bohemian touch. But Grace
made up for short-comings of mine. Mavis
and Dot had perfectly idealized her. Dear
Mamma was an artist herein, and made
Grace twenty times as pretty as she was —
which indeed was not at all necessary.
What coral blossoms in her soft brown hair !
What pure round pearls upon her pure
young neck ! You should have seen Les-
bury glare at his daughter when he found
out who she was.

I suppose it was hardly fair to my father,
but I had made up my mind to carry out my
design with a high hand, and I knew very
well that he would ultimately think I had
done wisely. As he entered the room I
went forward to met him with Grace on my
arm.

" This is my wife, sir," I said . . . "Lady
Grace Marchmont. I was obliged to marry

248 TRANSMIGRATION

without consulting you, but I think you will
find her a dutiful daughter."

My father, though taken by surprise, was
equal to the occasion. It did not occur to
him that Grace was the lady whom he had
designed for Algernon. There was no op-
portunity for any explanation between him
and Lord Lesbury. The Earl glared ; but
my father simply said . . .

" I commend your choice, Rex."

Then he took Grace's hands in his, and
looked at her for half a minute, and kissed
her on the forehead.

" I hope Rex is good enough for you," he
said.

My father has his faults : who has not ?
Great faults can only accompany great
powers. My father has neither one nor the
other, but he has courage and kindness and
self-reliance in perfection. He is incapable

TRANSMIGRATION. 249

of being afraid of a man or out of temper
with a woman. When he saw Grace he fell
in love with her at once, and he never after
altered his mind.

My uncle entered the room at this mo-
ment, and I went through an introduction
with him also.

11 Well, Rex," he said, " you are fortunate,
and deserve your fortune. Does he not,
€harlie ?"

" I think so," said my father. " I have
not asked any questions yet. We will hear
the romance after dinner."

" Are you sure there is any romance,
sir?" I asked.

" Quite sure. Rex, you rascal, if there
isn't a romance I'll disinherit you."

We were forgetting the Earl all this time.
He thought we were in a conspiracy against
him — that this was premeditated insult.

250 TRANSMIGRATION.

While we were all talking, and every eye
was fixed on my beautiful Grace, this morose
old nobleman had gradually edged toward
the door. An^er and shame blended in his
humour. He could not remain in his
daughter's presence. Unobserved he left
the room, meeting, as I afterwards heard,
Algernon at the door. They hurried away
together, and Lord Lesbury made up his
mind to leave the house at once.

Just at this moment came the announce-
ment that dinner was served. My father,
though surprised at the absence of the Earl
and my brother, would not wait for them :
so we sat down to our soup, and soon warm-
ed into a merry part}'. In honour of my
wife the choicest champagne in the cellar
flowed freely. It was as joyous a party as
I remember.

When we came to the dessert, and the

TRANSMIGRATION. 251

servants had left us, ray father said . . .

" Now for your romance, Rex ; but first,
why have Lesbury and Algy deserted us ?
I can see it has something to do with your
adventure."

" My wife was Lady Grace Lesbury, sir,"
I said.

My father laughed immoderately, and we
all caught the contagion.

" By Jove, Rex, you've stolen a march on
us all ! Why didn't you tell me ? We might
have had a grand wedding."

" I don't care about grand weddings," was
my reply. " Give Dot as grand a one as
you please when she marries Perivale."

" Why, I thought she was to be Countess
of Lesbury," quoth uncle Paul.

" The objection to that," I said, " is that
there is a Countess of Lesbury already, and
a very charming lady she is."

252 TRANSMIGRATION.

My father, a quiet and even-tempered
man amid common circumstances, was apt to
get very fierce when he deemed himself in-
sulted. His face assumed a sterner look
than ever I remember : he said to my uncle,

" Paul, find out for me what has become
of the Earl."

My uncle went, and we for a while were
silent. Kitty looked very much relieved, and
gave me a grateful smile. My mother seem-
ed amazed — an appreciative spectator of a
curious little comedy. There are people who
can regard the current of life as if they were
sitting in the stalls of a theatre, opera-glass in
hand, a white satin bill of the play before
them, a pleasant wit-lightened supper ready
when the curtain falls. Such folk not only
enjoy existence themselves, but amazingly
enhance the enjoyment of others. The
simplest thing delights them — the flight of a

TRANSMIGRATION. 253

swallow, the phases of a sunset, the ripple of
a stream. You cannot help seeing with their
eyes. They drop indolent epigrams as the
princess in some fairy tale dropt diamonds
whenever she spoke.

Presently my uncle returned, and with
him Algernon. My brother looked a little
puzzled and a little frightened.

" I have been seeing Lord Lesbury off,
sir," he said to my father. " He insisted
on going."

" Did he leave no message?"

" None."

My father turned to my wife and said,

" I will not say a word against the Earl
in his daughter's presence. Now that he is
gone, let us enjoy ourselves, and forget any
trifling annoyance. Come, Algernon, let
me introduce you to your brothers wife,
Lady Grace Marchmont. I had no idea

254 TRANSMIGRATION.

you were to be rivals. Rex is no laggard
in love, }7ou see."

" I never got a chance," quoth my bro-
ther, laughing — for my father's good-humour
was resistless. " I have lost my bride, and
I have lost my diuner."

" Have something devilled," was the
reply, " and drink some Burgundy with it,
and you will soon forget your losses."

" I think," said my mother, " that, as this
is Rex's bridal night, we ought to let the
servants have a dance in the hall. That is
an easy entertainment."

" Admirable notion, Mavis !" said my
father. " We'll take a stroll in the moon-
light while they get ready, and Algy eats
his disconsolate devil. Come, Grace, wrap
yourself up : I want to talk to you. You
will tell me the romance more eloquently
than Rex."

255

CHAPTER XVII.

SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY.

"What would Sir Roger de Coverley be without his
follies and his charming little brain-cracks?"

Thackeray.

TTTE went out upon the pleasant terrace
* * — not my mother, who was rather
afraid of evening air, but my father and
Grace, uncle Paul and I. The lights of
Redborough lay in the valley beneath us,
faint in comparison with the lights of heaven
above. A crescent moon, thin and bright,
lay low in the west ; the milky way was
clear ; Mars burnt red near the zenith. I
thought of the day when I had seen the

256 TRANSMIGRATION.

light of Earth from the Peak of Power, and
fell into so deep a reverie that I hardly
knew my uncle Paul was talking to me as
we stood by the parapet. He recalled me
to myself by a laugh, and said,

"Why, Rex, you haven't been listening a
bit. Are you star-gazing or wool-gather-
mg?

" Both, I suppose. I wish I could read
the stars. But really I beg your pardon.
What were you saying all the time ?"

"0, I was only asking questions you did
not answer, and making suppositions you
did not contradict. What in the world
brought you into contact with your charm-
ing bride ? The whole affair seems myste-
rious."

" We are all in the groove of destiny," I
replied. " If we could analyse the relations
which exist between past and future — be-

TRANSMIGRATION. • 257

tween one individual and the rest of the
race — we should cease to be surprised at
what we call strange chances and singular
coincidences. If I dared tell you my own
actual experience, you would either think
me mad, or entirely reconsider your philo-
sophy.

"Some day, perhaps. Just now I need
only relate the very simple series of inci-
dents which my father styles my romance.
I met Grace by what we call accident, living
incognito with her mother. I loved her
without knowing who she was. I married
her promptly, because I saw there was a plot
to give her to Algernon, and had no wish
for a long and tiresome contest. Her mo-
ther, Countess of Lesbury, knows nothing
of it yet ; she is in London on legal business,
trying to foil the schemes of her rascally
husband. To-morrow she returns; and I

vol. in. s

258 . TRANSMIGRATION.

must go over and make my peace with
her."

"What is she like?"

" She is simple and quiet ; what most
struck me in her was her being so absolute
a lady. You see, she has been a confirmed
invalid — from trouble, I suspect, more than
anything ; and now that she is in a fair way,
as I hear, to foil Lesbury's schemes, I pre-
dict that she will grow young and lively
again."

" Where is she living ?"

"At a place called Beau Sejour, on Five
Tree Hill — a quaint irregular cottage."

"Why," said my uncle, "I fancy it must
be your father's property. I know it did
belong to the Romayne estate. There's a
curious story about it that I heard one day
from an old fellow at the Romayne Arms,
when I was riding that way, and I was

TRANSMIGRATION. 259

driven in by a sharp shower. Strangely
enough, both the Lesbury family and your
mother are connected with it ?"

" What is it?" I asked, eagerly.

"There was a curious recluse living there
for many years, who had been a very fast
man in town in George III.'s time. He was
a baronet — Sir Edward Ellesmere. He died
there, and during his last illness was nursed
by Lady Lesbury, your wife's grandmother
of course. She was then a widow, and the
rumour was that they had been lovers in
youth. Any way, the end was romantic
enough ; he died, and she was found dead by
his bedside, holding his hand. The story
seemed so strange that I wrote to Notes and
Queries about it, and got some imperfect
verification. Is it not curious that Lady
Lesbury should live where the last Lady
Lesbury came to die ?"

s2

260 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Very : but what were you saying about
my mother?"

" Why, the oddest thing is that she also
lived at Five Tree Hill when she was a
girl, and that this whimsical old baronet had
a great fanc}^ for her. and used to teach her
out-of-the-way things, some of which she
has taught you, I believe. He left her
some property — I don't exactly know what :
your father never talks about such things.
You must acknowledge it is a curious circle
of coincidence."

"We'll talk it over some other time, my
dear uncle," I said. " I knew all this before,
but I wanted to hear your version of it.
Come, the moon has gone down, and there
is a cloud over Mars, and the milky way is
losing its cream, and the fiddles are playing
madly in the hall. Let us make my father
and Grace go in, else she will be having a

TRANSMIGRATION. 261

cold, and an influenza honeymoon would be
no joke."

" You are full of brain-cracks as a cheese
of mites," quoth uncle Paul.

The rising tide of music had also magnet-
ized my father and my wife.

" You are a lucky fellow, Rex," said my
father, as we passed on together. " You've
got the most charming wife in the world,
except your mother."

"Bracket them equal," whispered my
uncle. It was very much from the lips of
him who had for long years loyally and
purely worshipped Mavis Marchmont.

The hall was lighted brilliantly. Servants
and near-dwelling tenants (of whom there
were many in the Redborough suburb),
made quite a crowded party. There was an
uproar of cheering when we entered upon a
dais which is connected by swinging doors

262 TRANSMIGRATION.

with the private apartments. My father,
leading Grace to the front, said a few clear
words (he always talks like a trumpet when
addressing a number) : and there were
cheers, and dancing began.

My father and I led out Grace and my
mother. We began with a quadrille. I think ;
but I don't know, for dancing is that one of
the fine arts whose simplest elements per-
plex me. I like a reel or a country dance,
and was glad when, in the small hours, the
time came to romp through Sir Roger de
Coverley.

During that first dance, amid the din of
music and laughter, I managed to say to my
mother that uncle Paul had just been tell-
ing me about Five Tree Hill, and Sir
Edward, and her knowing him, and the
curious " coincidence." As I told her, I
could see in her eyes the youthful lustre

TRANSMIGRATION. 263

I so well remembered when she was a gay
girl by Saint Apollonia's Chapel. She
looked a child again. I could not help
wondering whether, even on this planet, a
process could be discovered for renewing
youth, or, at least, retarding age. Persons
to whom I have mentioned this theory have
said to me they would rather not. I hold
that men who do not wish to live long are
not worthy to live at all. We have been
told that youth is a blunder, manhood a
struggle, old age a regret. Pshaw ! Youth
is a lyric, manhood an epic, age a philo-
sophy. Youth is prophecy, manhood frui-
tion, age is vision of both past and future.
If all men had my experience — which they
may if they will — youth and age would be
identical. I write this in early manhood,
with a thousand things to do in the present
which occupy me wholly, and sever me,

264 TRANSMIGRATION.

save at rare intervals, from the past and
future : but, when I was a baby in the
cradle, I had time to ponder the past, and
when I am half a century older I shall be
at leisure to consider the future.

" Ah," said my mother amid the merry
noise, " I wish you could have known Sir
Edward. I often think you are very like
him."

To describe the merriment of the evening
is beyond my power. I had planned a
stratagem at the last, and arranged it with
Mavis and Grace. It was not our wish to
take any final leave of the company, or to
have old shoes thrown after us for luck, or
to go through the ceremony (not yet obso-
lete, though obsolescent, in outlying regions)
of untying the bride's garters. At the same
time I did not wish to be conspicuous by
my absence before the end came. Grace

TRANSMIGRATION. 265

and I waited for Sir Roger de Coverley,
and led it off together gaily, and then van-
ished through a side-door and reached our
own suite of rooms.

"Tired, Regina?" I said, when we reach-
ed a softly-lighted boudoir, and she sank on
a sofa.

"A little," she answered. "Is it late?
It must be."

It was early — five o'clock.

" Now, darling Grace," I said, " you must
go quietly to bed, and as fast as possible.
Those dear eyes have burnt so brightly all
night that they will lose their radiance if
you don't give them sleep. There's no
waiting-maid for you ; they are all dancing
and drinking punch, and eating cold
chicken."

She was in bed in two minutes, and fast
asleep in five. As I sat by her side with

266 TRANSMIGRATION.

her hand in mine ... a little roseleaf of a
hand, softer than Minerva's and warm with
love ... I thought of another hand that
long ago turned icy cold in mine . . . though
love was also there.

" How like and how unlike !
O Death and O Love !"

267

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE COUNTESS OF LESBURY.
" Sorrow, that sours the weak, matures the strong."

rjlHE stag-beetle, whose vagaries dwellers
-*- in the country are apt to notice in
Julv, is rather a curious creature. He
turns out on summer evenings, sprightly
and full of fun : he is found the next morn-
ing, if no night-bird or bat has snapped him
up, with one of his handsome horns gone, or
two or three of his legs lost, and altogether
a used-up air which made a witty Irish lady
remark to me that the poor creatures want-
ed brandy and soda. Pretty much in this

268 TRANSMIGRATION.

way looked the folk at Romayne Court on
the following morning. I went downstairs,
while my darling slept soundly still, and got
a bath, and dressed. Nobody was visible :
the servants were doing their matutinal
work in a languid way : the old butler, who
was just beginning to look after his glass,
looked so intensely dissipated, with his
dirty white necktie under his left ear, that I
fancy my father would have dismissed him
on the spot. Luckily Mr. Marchmont was
fast asleep, and likely to be for some hours.
His habits were not mine. He could sleep ten
hours at a time : I have always been thank-
ful if I could get five. I knew full well
that he was not likely to appear till mid-
dav.

So, as Grace slept on, I drank the de-
licious freshness of the morning air, filled
with fragrance unutterable. Lucy loved

TRANSMIGRATION. 269

roses, Lucy, my lost love : Grace loved
roses too : so when I came to a choice
rosary, where the most delightful summer
roses were grown carefully, I picked the
rarest flowers I could find, covered with
crystals of early dew, and took them to my
little wife. On my way I was lucky enough
to catch a trim little waiting-maid, who was
almost half awake, and whom I detailed to
wait upon Grace. The country dances had
whirled most of the wits out of her empty
little brain, but I contrived to make her
understand what she was to do, and in due
time, when Grace awoke, she got her cup of
coffee, and all the other necessities of the
morning. She came tripping downstairs
presently with some of my roses in her
hair, and one sweet maiden-blush in her
bosom to match the bridal maiden-blush
upon her happy cheek.

270 TRANSMIGRATION.

" How do you feel, Regina ?" I asked,
when we came into the garden that de-
licious morning. " Have you had sleep
enough ?"

" 0 quite ! O too much, I think. I am
ready for anything now, dear Rex. I am
glad. I am yours, and that is enough. But
we must see Mamma to-day. She is to return
in the afternoon, you know. Don't forget,
ray own."

" O I won't forget, my love : you shall
be taken back in good time. After lunch
will do, if they ever give us any lunch."

"0 I am in no hurry for lunch : they
brought me some Strasburg pie with my
tea : I couldn't eat anything more. I do
hope you have made a good breakfast."

" Capital," I said, though the idea had not
occurred to me — though indeed I never eat-
before noon. Grace was satisfied, and we

TRANSMIGRATION. 271

wandered down an avenue of lime trees, and
talked that delicious unrecordable nonsense
which some people fancy can only be talked
once in a life-time. Ah, how absurd ! If
it be true, it lasts : if it be true, it grows till
nonsense turns to poetry. My maiden-wife
and I passed through long alleys of soft
li2;ht and shade, where sunlight fretted turf
and gravel with a mosaic pattern, perpetual-
ly thwarted by the wilful wind in the
foliage.

Grace sang a little song :

" We once were two : we now are one.
O how sweet is the morning air !
The vow is made : the joy is won ;
Ay, and life shall be always fair.

" For I'll love you while shines the sun ;
0 how sweet is the morning air !
And you'll love me till life is done —
So shall death when it comes be fair."

" I wonder where you got that whimsical
little song," I said.

272 TRANSMIGRATION.

u 0, Mamma taught it me. Do you
like it ? I do. I like the idea that death is
nothing to be afraid of."

" Why should it be ?" I said. " Nobody
need fear it unless he is a scoundrel. We
don't know what will happen next, but surely
we may trust God."

" Do you know, Rex, it is a thing I have
always been thinking of. Somehow the
fancy came upon me, when I was quite a
little girl, that I should like to know what
death meant. If I had not loved all the
beauty and delight of life, I should have
done^something desperate. I imagined an-
other world, wherein there was a freer and
happier life than here : but the green of the
grass, and the blue of the sky, and the song
of the birds, and my dear mother's kind
soft voice kept me from doing anything
foolish. Only I have not quite conquered

TRANSMIGRATION. 273

the wish, when I am on the top of a tower
or a cliff, to fling myself down. I fancy the
swift flight through the air . . . and thou
. . . another world. So, when I am in a
boat on the water, I am longing to plunge
into it, and am held back only by the feeling
that this world is too pleasant to leave."

"You foolish darling," I said. "I will
tell you all about it by-and-by. I know a
great deal more than you guess. You won't
want to jump off towers, or tumble into the
water till }'OU are tired of me, will you ?"

"Well, I think not," said Grace, with a
charming capricious look. " But hadn't we
better go back and see if anybody is up yet ?
They must be waking by this time, surely."

So we went back through cool alleys,
over sunny lawns, till we reached the house,
and there, on the terrace, was uncle Paul.

" You are early," he said, with a merry

vol. in. . T

274 TRANSMIGRATION.

look, which seemed to insinuate some recon-
dite notion. "It is pleasant to see bride-
groom and bride among the leaves and
flowers before the dew has left the grass.
It shall be deemed a good omen, Rex."

" It shall," I said. " Regina and I, uncle
Paul, mean to carry out our names. We
mean to rule ourselves entirely, and others
when necessary."

" Begin with the first," said Paul March -
mont. "To interfere in your own affairs is
unwise ; to interfere in another man's affairs
is unwiser. The man who goes in for ruling
himself has very little to rule."

" Why, uncle Paul," says Grace, merrily,
" how can you be satirical, on a lovely sum-
mer morning, to a new bridegroom and
bride ? I am ashamed of you. The very
flowers were more fragrant than I ever knew
them : the trees whispered secrets to us :

TRANSMIGRATION. 275

the grass grew cooler to suit our feet. I
won't have you in a caustic mood,". she con-
tinued, with her pretty hand on his coat,
that was russet with age (he loved old
clothes for sake of ease), and she looked at
him so gaily that his cynicism vanished like
ice before the sunbeam, and he inwardly
swore allegiance to my charming Grace.

Romayne Court resumed its normal look
in time, and we got a kind of breakfast-
luncheon, and a deal of nonsense was talked
among us. I think my father was foremost.
His boyhood lasted : he took his son's mar-
riage as he had taken the Stock Exchange —
as he had taken a game of cricket in his
boyhood. Not the highest idea of life, we
may say : but while men like Charles March-
mont can marry women like Mavis Lee, we
need fear no worsening of English folk.

In the golden afternoon we drove to

t 2

270 TRANSMIGRATION.

Beau Sejour — my father and Grace and I,
that is to say. We reached the dear old
cottage just in time : Mrs. Smith had not
returned, but was expected every minute.
When she did return, and found us in one
of the rooms overlooking that sloping lawn,
she was a little puzzled : but her visit to
London had brightened up her spirits, her
lawyer having told her that her case must
necessarily go all her own way. I had to
make an explanation which might have
caused her to be indignant — indeed, she
ought, one might think — but I am verv
happy to say she wasn't. She simply said,

" You were in a great hurry ; don't repent
at leisure. I have been repenting at leisure
all my life."

" I am very sorry, Lady Lesbury," I
said ; " but there was no escape for me.
And as soon as I could get a chance, we
came to ask your pardon."

TRANSMIGRATION. 277

"Yes, Mamma; it is all quite true," said
Grace.

" You are a daring boy, I can see," said
Lady Lesbury to me, " and I don't quite
understand how you found out who I am."

" I think," said my father, " you had
better leave this wild fellow to himself.
He is my son, and I will be answerable for
him. Lady Grace is quite sufficient tempta-
tion for anybody. Ladies like you, with
daughters almost as pretty as yourselves,
have very much to answer for."

It is not requisite to go farther into this
part of the history. Lady Lesbury, who
was well satisfied with what I and her
daughter had done, and who was glad to
come out of her retirement now that she
found that Lesbury had the worst of the
affair, surprised us all by the quiet soft dig-
nity of her manner, and the ease with which

278 TRANSMIGRATION.

she encountered this new phase of her exist-
ence. Her lawyers had completely van-
quished Lord Lesbury, putting her in a
thoroughly comfortable position, and making
Grace an heiress : and Lady Lesbury, thus
victorious, verily renewed her youth. She
threw away her ailments, and was quite
pleased to accept Mamma's invitation, and
stay at Romayne Court while Grace and I
went on our honeymoon. Perivale and
Dot had made up their minds, but their
honeymoon time had not arrived.

279

CHAPTER XIX.

GRACE AND I.

Rafael. Well, Alouette, where shall we pass our honey-
moon?
Shall we see cities? Shall we chase the mar-
vellous
Beauty of mountains? Shall we hide in forest

depths?
Where shall we go to get most lovely loneliness?
Alouette. We'll go to sea.

The Comedy of Dream*.

finHERE was some such conversation be-
-*- tween Grace and me that next night
at Romayne Court, when I held my beauty
in my arms, and talked over what we
should do next. 0 how selfish we were,
and how little we cared for all our dearest

()

280 TRANSMIGRATION.

friends ! We had one idea . . . ourselves.
We wanted to isolate ourselves, and get out
f the way of all the rest of the world. It
is a providential sort of thing, say the
cynical school, led by Thackeray : let the
young people tire each other out. This may
be true sometimes, but Grace and I have
been one for many a year, and have not
tired of each other yet.

I bought a yacht ... a tolerably fast and
very cosy schooner, the Lydia. I re-
christened it the Grace, of course. We had
quite a pleasant time when we were making
all our arrangements for this voyage : my
father and mother and uncle Paul and Lady
Lesbury came down to Southsea, and stayed
at some " mansion " or other, and we had an
immense amount of fun over the matter. I
was lucky enough to get a capital master for
the yacht: his name was Waring, and he

TRANSMIGRATION. 281

bad been yachting all his life. Such men,
like all seamen of the first order, must be
gentlemen. There is no university like the
sea.

Imagine the world far away. We are in
the Mediterranean. Sky and sea are incon-
ceivably blue. We search for islands and
adventures, Grace and I, lying cosy amid
rugs innumerable, with none but marine and
canine companions — the latter being a
couple of pure white Newfoundland dogs
that I bought at Portsea of an old A.B,
turned dog-fancier, who had christened
them Jack and Jill. They were brother
and sister, a lovely pair.

Our life was strangely pleasant. Morn-
ing brought us on deck to breakfast on un-
usual fish and light wine, and to watch the
lovely lapse of water, the delicious curve of
shore. I think I could tell more distinctly

282 TRANSMIGRATION.

what at that time I saw, if I had not been
looking so much into Grace's eyes. For to
lie at her feet, and to look at her wondrous
eyes and sweet little mouth, while she told me
me what she saw, while I saw nothing but
her, was enough for me. There was a
dream of sapphire sea, of marble city, of
emerald island, of sky angel-haunted in its
deepest blue, but Grace was my reality.
There she sate and radiated. Her sweet
strong spirit seemed visible to others — was
visible to me.

Yes, I told her. I wondered, times with-
out number, whether I should. This is a
world in which it is unsafe for a man to
communicate a new truth even to his wife.
Suppose you had the power, Mr. Brown,
of making yourself invisible, would you tell
Mrs. Brown, or would you become invisible
and leave Mrs. Brown to take the conse-

TRANSMIGRATION. 283

quences? When we analyse the reasons
why men marry women and women marry
men, we need not wonder at any unpleasant
results. Of course, in the present state of
ontological crassitude, people have no chance
of marrying as I married : and this true
history is written to give men that chance.

Yes, I told her. I thought I might,
when I looked on that fine square brow,
that soft mouth, curved like Apollo's bow,
those eyes, in which dreams were apparent
— in which \12ht was latent. I was not

o

wrong.

0, how well I remember the day ! There
was a merry breeze : we were off Elba. I
thought of the imprisoned Emperor, and
laughed at the folly of a man who aspires
to rule a world so insignificant as ours.
Grace was dreamy, enjoying life. I told
her what has alreadv been told.

284 TRANSMIGRATION.

" Ah !" she said, when the story was over,
looking westward, where sunshine lay, " al-
ways I used to wonder whether we should
love again some time. I cannot remember
whence I came — you can. Now who was
I, I wonder?"

" I don't know, my beauty. You are
exactly like Lucy, your father's mother,
who died when I died."

" How strange it seems !" she said, with
a shudder — I had my arm around her waist
— " how strange ! I am afraid, Rex. It is
more terrible to be told these things that
you must believe under a skv like this than

%j J

to hear some hideous ghost story just before
you are going to bed at Christmas. 0 tell
me you are hoaxing me, Rex ! — 0 tell me
you are telling stories !"

It has been asked, gravely, what is the
chief end of woman ; I say, to surprise man.

TRANSMIGRATION. 285

Why in the world should Grace be afraid
on board a schooner yacht in the Mediter-
ranean on the loveliest day in the world ?

" I am not going to tell you I am telling
stones, my beautiful Grace," I said, "be-
cause I am telling absolute truth, and be-
cause it is truth on an important subject.
Now, Grace, you foolish pet, what is there
to frighten you in what I have told to you,
and to nobody else ? I loved your grand-
mother years ago : you are just like her :
you are my wife. The dear creature whom
you know as my mother was my little pet
and pupil years ago. It is hard to under-
stand this, Grace, my darling : but if it is all
true, why should it frighten you? I am
almost sorry I told you, but I regard my
wife as myself, and I hate having secrets
from her."

She was quiet and thoughtful for a time ;
then she said.

286 TRANSMIGRATION.

"Rex, dear, I am very glad you told me.
It is rather puzzling to a child like me, you
know," she went on, with an enchanting
moue. " But either you are mad, or what
you say is true — and I don't think you are
mad, Rex."

" I think not, Grace. I am sane enough.
Only I remember what other people forget,
and I expect what other people dare not
believe. A man who has seen other coun-
tries is astonishing to people who have lived
in the same street all their lives. I have
seen another world, and therefore I frighten
you : but you, my dear little flower — my
delicate dream of beauty — will see other
worlds too, if you have a soul."

Grace was equal to the occasion. Her
guitar was by her side, the most elegant in-
strument a lady can touch. She took it,
and sang :

TRANSMIGRATION. 287

" If I have a soul, Sir !
'Tis thus that men will sneer, and think it droll.

Long as planets roll, Sir,
Woman will have no soul . . . she is a soul.

" Have you got a brain, Sir?
That's the keen question which I ask of you.

Girls are very vain, Sir . . .
To men the prize for vanity is due."

I wish I could put the time upon paper.
I wish I could sketch Grace, as she lay
amid her rugs, with Jack and Jill like two
great dogs of snow carved at her feet, as we
raced through the Midland Sea's tranquil
sapphire.

In the present state of Great British
modesty it is hard to put into sufficiently
decorous prose anything that bridegroom
and bride are likely to say to each other
when yachting in the Mediterranean. Al-
though this slightly interferes with the inte-
rest of a novel, I, as a moral man, and a

288 TRANSMIGRATION.

confirmed old fogy, am very glad of it.
Those days are past when, with Grace, I
sailed the Mediterranean Sea. I am, ac-
cording to the current chronology, thirty-
four. Grace and I have only two children,
a boy and a girl, the boy the -elder. Look-
ing at these youngsters in the light of my
unique experience, I cannot help believing
that they are old friends under a new aspect.
I study them daily. So does Grace, who
has got over her first fright, and begins to
think the whole thing delightful.

And it is delightful, as are all things that
are true. God meant man to be happy
and wise. Thank Him for pain, without
which pleasure cannot be truly known.
Thank Him for crime, without which we
could not know virtue. Thank Him for
hatred and darkness, since they teach us to
know Him — who is Love and Light !

TRANSMIGRATION. 289

"Perfect light is perfect love," I said to
Grace one day, when we were talking over
my strange experience, while my son Harry
was trying to break his neck by infantile
gymnastics, and my daughter Kitty (could
I forget dear Dot, now Lady Perivale ?) was
worrying her mother abominably. If we
knew everything, we could not hate any-
body. We shall not reach the absolute en-
joyment of existence till a clear light shines
through the universe."

"Till Mr. Cook can organise excursions
to Mars, I suppose," said Grace.

"You like to laugh at me, darling," I
said, " but you know full well that what I
have said is true. Between you and me
there is perfect light, and therefore perfect
love!"

"I wish the world could know what we
know," said Grace.

vol. in. u

290 TRANSMIGRATION.

Ah, and how I wish it also. It is four
o'clock on a July morning as I finish this
narrative. Grace is in bed. She is the only
person in the world who knows what I have
endured, who knows that I am writing of it.
As the names throughout are changed, my
father and mother will never guess, if they
should see the book : but I confess I am
slightly afraid of my uncle Paul's keen in-
tellect. He is almost unfairly incisive.

I have not done with this subject. I am
of opinion that any man who attacks the
question philosophically may secure a safe
passage from the present to the future, even
if he know nothing of the past. What I
have done others may do. I know the soul
to *be immortal : the unfortunate people
who only hope that it is immortal may get
proof if they go the right way to work.
Moreover, you may, by scientific analysis,

TRANSMIGRATION. 291

trace the soul backward. I have two chil-
dren, Harry and Kitty. I have traced them
backward . . . but as yet the investigation
is through three generations only. The
completion of the theory can be stated only
in a scientific treatise, and would be out of
place in a narrative of fact.

Lady Grace Marchmont is no longer
frightened by what I have had to reveal to
her. She reminds me, as I have heretofore
said, by her luminous beauty, by something
that seem to show the soul through the
flesh, by a thousand little ways, by her
power of making roses bloom, by her fanci-
ful sweet songs, of Lucy Lovelace.

It was one winter evening, when, she and
I alone together, I had been telling her
little things about Lucy, that she said,

" I remember. I recollect when you
broke that eggshell china cup, with the gold

292 TRANSMIGRATION.

dog on your riding-whip. Yes. I was Lucy.
I am Lucy. 0, I shall always remember
now !

THE END.

LONDON : PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE.

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