Flaming June

By Mrs George de Horne Vaizey________________________________________________________________________This book is a little different from most of the others from thisauthor. The cast of the story are just a shade older than we are usedto in Vaizey books, and there is no one who is afflicted with adisabling disease, such as the author herself suffered from. I supposeyou could describe the setting as the upper-class Mayfair set. 

The scene opens in the house of a tidy old spinster, living in a tidylittle seaside town, in a row of large houses of similar people, sharingprivate access to a well-kept garden. A rather stable existence. 

There is also a nice young American girl, over in England as part of hereducation, no doubt. Her father has become very rich in America, but heis the brother of the tidy old spinster, on whom, and to whose dismay, he has imposed Cornelia's visit. Cornelia is simply not used to thestandards of English behaviour, for instance chaperones, and not gaddingabout with young men. Cornelia has quite enough pocket-money to do asshe pleases. But her aunt is proved right in the end, for among allthese nice well-brought-up people there is a baddy, which is revealedonly towards the end. NH________________________________________________________________________

FLAMING JUNE

BY MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY

CHAPTER ONE. 

Somewhere on the West coast of England, about a hundred miles from themetropolis, there stands a sleepy little town, which possesses nospecial activity nor beauty to justify its existence. People live in itfor reasons of their own. The people who do _not_ live in it wonder for_what_ reasons, but attain no better solution of the mystery than thestatement that the air is very fine. "We have such bracing air!" saysthe resident, as proudly as if that said air were his special inventionand property. Certain West-country doctors affect Norton-on-Sea forpatients in need of restful change, and their melancholy adventjustifies the existence of the great hotel on the esplanade, and the rowof bath-chairs at the corner. There are ten bath-chairs in all, and onsunny days ten crumpled-looking old ladies can generally be seen sittinginside their canopies, trundling slowly along the esplanade, accompaniedby a paid companion, dressed in black and looking sorry for herself. Occasionally on Saturdays and Sundays a pretty daughter, or a tall sontakes the companion's place, but as sure as Monday arrives theydisappear into space. One can imagine that one hears them bidding theirfarewells--"So glad to see you getting on so well, mother dear! Ipositively _must_ rush back to town to attend to a hundred duties. It'sa comfort to feel that you are so well placed. Miss Biggs is atreasure, and this air is so bracing!. .. "

The esplanade consists of four rows of lodging-houses and two hotels, infront of which is a strip of grass, on which a band plays twice a weekduring the summer months, and the school-children twice a day all theyear long. The invalids in the hotel object to the children and makeunsuccessful attempts to banish them from their pitch, and the childrenin their turn regard the invalids with frank disdain, and make audibleand uncomplimentary surmises as to the nature of their complaints as theprocession of chairs trundles by. 

In front of the green, and separating it from the steep, pebbly shore, are a number of fishermen's shanties, bathing machines, and hulks of oldvessels stretched in a long, straggling row, while one larger shedstands back from the rest, labelled "Lifeboat" in large white letters. 

Parallel with the esplanade runs the High Street, a narrow thoroughfareshowing shops crowded with the useless little articles which aresupposed to prove irresistibly attractive to visitors to the seaside. At the bazaar a big white label proclaims that everything in the windowis to be sold at the astounding price of "eleven-three, " and thepurchaser is free to make his choice from such treasures as work-boxeslined in crimson plush, and covered with a massed pattern in shells;desks fitted with all the implements for writing, scent bottles tiedwith blue ribbons; packets of stationery with local views, photographframes in plush and gelatine, or to select more perishable trophies inglass and china, all solemnly guaranteed to be worth double the price. 

At the photographer's, a few yards farther along, a visitor can have hisportrait taken a yard square, the size of a postage stamp, or on apostcard to send to his friends. Ingenious backgrounds are on hand, representing appropriate seaside scenes in which the sitter has nothingto do but to press his face against a hole on the canvas, and these areextensively patronised, for what can be more convenient than to stand onsolid earth, attired in sober, everyday clothing, yet be portrayedsplashing in the waves in the spandiest of French bathing costumes, riding a donkey along the sands, or manfully hauling down the sails of ayacht!

Mr Photographer Sykes is a man of resource, and deserves the prosperitywhich is the envy of his neighbours. Mrs Sykes wears silk linings toher skirts on Sundays, and rustles like the highest in the land. Shehad three new hats in one summer, and the fishmonger's wife knows for afact that not one of the number costs less than "twenty-five-six. "

The High Street and the esplanade constitute the new Norton-on-Sea whichhas sprung into being within the last ten years, but the real, original, aristocratic Norton lies a couple of miles inland, and consists of awide, sloping street, lined with alternate shops and houses, branchingoff from which are a number of sleepy roads, in which detached and semi-detached villas hide themselves behind trees and hedges, and barricadetheir windows with stiff, white curtains. The one great longingactuating the Norton householder seems to be to see nothing, and to beseen by none. "Is the house overlooked?" they ask the agent anxiouslyon the occasion of the first application. "Does it overlook any otherhouse?"

"There _is_ another house across the road, madam!" the agent issometimes regretfully obliged to admit, "but it has been very cleverlyplanted out. "

So it has! by means of a fir or an elm planted within a few yards of thewindows, and blocking out something more important than another villa, but the Norton resident desires privacy above all things. The sun andthe air have to creep in as best they may. 

The more aristocratic the position of a family, the more secludedbecomes their position. Fences are raised by an arrangement of lattice-work on the top of boards; shrubs are planted thickly inside the hedges;even the railings of the gates are backed by discreetly concealingboards. If there happens to be a rise in the road from which a passer-by can catch a glimpse of white figures darting to and fro on the tenniscourts, the owner promptly throws up a bank, and plants on the top oneor two quickly growing limes. It is so disagreeable to be overlooked!

At the date at which this history opens, there were several large placesin the neighbourhood of Norton, foremost among them were the ManorHouse, occupied by the young squire, Geoffrey Greville, and Madame, hismother; Green Arbour, owned by Admiral Perry, who had married the widowof the late High Sheriff; and The Meads, the ofttime deserted seat of arich London banker. 

With these exceptions, quite the most aristocratic dwellings weresituated in what was known as "The Park, " though perhaps "The Crescent"would have been the more appropriate name, for the twelve houses werebuilt on one side of a curving road, looking out on a charming stretchof land, dipping down to a miniature lake, and rising again to a softgreen knoll, surmounted by a bank of trees. The carefully-mowed grasslooked like softest velvet, and might be seen, but not touched, beingsurrounded by tiny wire arches, and protected by wooden boards, requesting visitors to keep to the paths, and not trespass on the"verges. " Impressive title! Visitors were likewise requested not totouch the flowering shrubs; not to pick the flowers; not to throwrubbish into the lake, or to inscribe their initials on the seats. These rules being carefully observed, the twelve householders who paidfor the upkeep of these decorous gardens were free to enjoy suchrelaxations as could be derived from gravel paths, and wooden benches. 

The view from their windows the residents apparently did not wish toenjoy, for they planted their trees and heightened their fences asindustriously as the owners of the fifty-pound villas in Hill Street. Mrs Garnett, at Buona Vista, having a garden deficient in foliage, hadeven erected a temporary trellis at the end of the lawn, and covered itwith creepers, rather than face the indignity of an open view. It gaveher such a "feeling of publicity" to see the neighbours pass to and fro!

It was only the residents themselves who enjoyed the proud privilege ofpacing the Park unmolested, for at either entrance stood small eavedlodges in which were housed the two gardeners and their wives. To belodge-keeper to the Park was as great a guarantee of respectability inNorton as to be vicar of the parish church itself. Only middle-aged, married, teetotal, childless churchmen could apply for the posts, andamong their scant ranks the most searching inquiries were institutedbefore an appointment was finally arranged. It is safe to affirm thatno working couples on earth were more clean, industrious, and alive totheir duty towards their betters, than the occupants of the North andSouth Lodges of Norton Park!

All day long the two husbands mowed grass, clipped hedges, and swept upgravel paths; all day long the wives scrubbed and dusted theirimmaculate little houses, keeping a weather-eye on the door to see whopassed to and fro. Their duty it was to pounce out on any stranger whodared attempt to force an entrance through the hallowed portals, andsend them back discomfited. 

"You can't come this way, madam! This road is private!"

"Can't I just walk straight through on the path? It is so much nearerthan going all the way round!"

"The park is private, madam; there is no thoroughfare. "

Occasionally some child of sin would endeavour to prevaricate. 

"I wish to pay a call!"

"Which house did you wish to go to, madam?"

"Er--Buona Vista!"

"Buona Vistas is away from home. They won't be back till the end of themonth. "

Foiled in her attempts the miscreant would have to retrace her steps, ormake her way round by the narrow lane by means of which the tradesmenmade their way to the back-doors of these secluded dwellings. 

Perhaps the most unpromisingly decorous house in the Park was christened"The Nook, " with that appalling lack of humour which is nowhereportrayed more strikingly than in the naming of suburban residences. Itstood fair and square in the middle of the crescent; and from garret tocellar there was not a nooky corner on which the eye could light. Twodrawing-room windows flanked the front door on the left; two dining-roomwindows on the right. There was not even a gable or a dormer to breakthe square solidity of the whole. Fourteen windows in all, eachchastely shrouded in Nottingham lace curtains, looped back by yellowsilk bands, fastened, to a fraction of an inch, at the same height fromthe sill, while Aspidistra plants, mounted on small tables, wereartfully placed so as to fill up the space necessarily left in thecentre. They were handsome plants of venerable age, which Mason, theparlourmaid, watered twice a week, sponging their leaves with milkbefore she replaced them in their pots. 

It was a typical early Victorian residence, inhabited by a spinster ladyof early Victorian type and her four henchwomen--Heap the cook, Mary thehousemaid, Mason the parlourmaid, and Jane the tweeny. Four women, plusa boot-boy, to wait upon the wants of one solitary person, yet inconclave with the domestic at The Croft to the right, and The Holt tothe left, Miss Briskett's maids were wont to assert that they wereworked off their feet. It was, as has been said, an early Victorianhousehold, conducted on early Victorian lines. Other people might becontent to buy half their supplies ready-made from the stores, but MissBriskett insisted on home-made bread, home-made jams and cakes; home-made pickles and sauces; home-cured tongues and hams, and home-madeliqueurs. Cook kept the tweeny busy in the kitchen, while Mary grumbledat having to keep half a dozen unused bedrooms in spick and spanperfection, and Mason spent her existence in polishing, and sweepinginvisible grains of dust from out-of-the-way-corners. 

As a rule the domestic wheel turned on oiled wheels and Miss Briskett'sexistence flowed on its even course, from one year's end to another, with little but the weather to differentiate one month from another, buton the day on which this history begins, a thunderbolt had fallen in theshape of a letter bearing a New York post-mark, which the postman handedin at the door of The Nook at the three o'clock delivery. Miss Briskettread its contents, and gasped; read them again, and trembled; read thema third time, and sat buried in thought for ten minutes by the clock, atthe expiration of which time she opened her own desk, and penned a noteto her friend and confidant, Mrs Ramsden, of The Holt--

 "My dear Friend, --I have just received a communication from America which is causing me considerable perturbation. If your engagements will allow, I should be grateful if you will take tea with me this afternoon, and give me the benefit of your wise counsel. Pray send a verbal answer by bearer. --Yours sincerely, --

 "Sophia A Briskett. "

The trim Mason took the note to its destination, and waited in the hallwhile Mrs Ramsden wrote her reply. The reference to a verbal answerwas only a matter of form. Miss Briskett would have been surprised andaffronted to receive so unceremonious a reply to her invitation--

 "My dear Friend, --It will give me pleasure to take tea with you this afternoon, as you so kindly suggest. I trust that the anxiety under which you are labouring may be of a temporary nature, and shall be thankful indeed if I can in any way assist to bring about its solution. --Most truly yours, --

 "Ellen Bean Ramsden. "

"The best china, Mason, and a teapot for two!" was Miss Briskett's orderon receipt of this cordial response, and an hour later the two ladiessat in conclave over a daintily-spread table in the drawing-room of TheNook. 

Miss Briskett was a tall, thin woman of fifty-eight or sixty, wearing awhite cap perched upon her grey hair, and an expression of frostypropriety on her thin, pointed features. Frosty is the adjective whichmost accurately describes her appearance. One felt a moral convictionthat she would suffer from chilblains in winter, that the long, thinfingers must be cold to the touch, even on this bright May day; that thetip of her nose was colder still, that she could not go to sleep atnight without a hot bottle to her feet. She was addicted to greydresses, composed of stiff and shiny silk, and to grey bonnetsglittering with steely beads. She creaked, as she moved, and her thinfigure was whale-boned into an unnatural rigidity. 

Mrs Ramsden was, in appearance at least, a striking contrast to herfriend, being a dumpy little woman, in whose demeanour good-nature viedwith dignity. She was dressed in black, and affected an upright featherin front of her bonnets. "To give me height, my dear!"

In looking at her one was irresistibly reminded of a pouter pigeonstrutting along on its short little legs, preening its sleek little headto and fro above its protuberant breast. 

"Read that!" said Miss Briskett, tragically, handing the thin sheet ofpaper to her friend, and Mrs Ramsden put on her spectacles and read asfollows--

 "My dear Sister, --Business connected with mines makes it necessary for me to go out West for the next few months, and the question has arisen how to provide for Cornelia meantime. I had various notions, but she prefers her own (she generally does!), and reckons she can't fill in this gap better than by running over to pay you a visit in the Old Country. I can pick her up in the fall, and have a little trot round before returning. She has friends sailing in the _Lucania_ on the 15th, and intends crossing with them. You will just have time to cable to put her off if you are dead, or otherwise incapacitated; but I take it you will be glad to have a look at my girl. She's worth looking at! I shall feel satisfied to know she is with you. She might get up to mischief over here. 

 "Looking forward to seeing you later on, --Your brother, Edward Briskett. "

 "_P S_--Dear Aunt Soph, don't you worry to prepare! I'll just chip in, and take you as you are. We'll have some high old times!--Your niece, Cornelia. "

Letter and eye-glasses fell together upon Mrs Ramsden's knee. Sheraised startled eyes, and blinked dumbly at her friend. 

Miss Briskett wagged her head from side to side, and heaved a sepulchralsigh. 

The halcyon days of peace were over!

CHAPTER TWO. 

"My dear, " said Mrs Ramsden, solemnly, "this is indeed great news. Idon't wonder that you feel unnerved!"

"I do, indeed. The three o'clock post came in, and I was quitesurprised when Mary came in with the salver. I was not expecting anyletters. I have so few correspondents, and I am mostly in their debt, Iam afraid. Still, of course, there are always the circulars. I lookedfor nothing more exciting, and then--_this_ arrived! I really felt thatI could not sit alone and think it out by myself all day long. I hopeyou will forgive me for asking you to come over on such short notice. "

"Indeed, I am flattered that you should wish to have me. Do tell me allabout this brother. He has lived abroad a long time, I think? It isthe eldest, is it not? The rich one--in America?"

"I believe he is rich for the moment. Goodness knows how long it maylast, " sighed Miss Briskett, dolefully. "He speculates in mines, mydear, and you know what _that_ means! Half the time he is a pauper, andthe other half a millionaire, and so far as I can gather from hisletters he seems just as well satisfied one way as another. He wasalways a flighty, irresponsible creature, and I fear Cornelia has takenafter him. "

"She is the only child?"

"Yes! She had an English mother, I'm thankful to say; but poor Sybildied at her birth, and Edward never married again. He was devoted toSybil, and said he would never give another woman the charge of herchild. Such nonsense! As if any man on earth could look after agrowing girl, without a woman's help. Instead of a wise, judiciousstepmother, she has been left to nurses and governesses, and from what Ican hear, has ruled _them_, instead of the other way about. You can seeby the tone of her father's letter that he is absurdly prejudiced. "

"That is natural, perhaps, with an only child, left to him in suchpeculiarly sad circumstances. We must not judge him hardly for that, "said little Mrs Ramsden, kindly. "Has the girl herself ever written toyou before, may I ask, or is this her first communication?"

Miss Briskett's back stiffened, and her thin lips set in a straightline. 

"She has addressed little notes to me from time to time; on birthdays, and Christmases, and so on; but to tell you the truth, my dear, I havenot encouraged their continuance. They were unduly familiar, and Iobject to being addressed by abbreviations of my name. Ideas as to whatis right and fitting seem to differ on different sides of the Atlantic!"

"They do, indeed. I have always understood that young people arebrought into quite undue prominence in American households. And theirmanners, too! One sees in that postscript--you don't mind my saying so, just between ourselves--a--a _broadness_--"

"Quite so! I feel it myself. I am most grieved, about it. Cornelia ismy niece, and Edward is the head of the family. Her position as hisonly child is one of importance, and I feel distressed that she is solittle qualified to adorn it. She has been well educated, I believe;has `graduated, ' as they call it; but she has evidently none of ourEnglish polish. Quite in confidence, Mrs Ramsden, I feel that she maybe somewhat of a shock to the neighbourhood!"

"You think of receiving her, then? Your brother leaves you the optionof refusing, and I should think things over very seriously beforeincurring such a responsibility. A three-months' visit! I doubt youcould not stand the strain! If you excused yourself on the ground ofhealth, no offence could possibly be taken. "

But at that Miss Briskett protested strongly. 

"Oh, my dear, I could not refuse! Edward wishes to find a home for thegirl, and says he would be relieved to have her with me. I could notpossibly refuse! I think I may say that I have never yet shirked aduty, distasteful though it might be, and I must not do so now. I shallcable to say that I will be pleased to receive Cornelia, when it suitsher to arrive. "

Mrs Ramsden crumbled her seed-cake and wondered why--that being thecase--she had been summoned to give advice, but being a good-naturedsoul, smiled assent, and deftly shifted the conversation to theconsideration of details. 

"Well, dear, I only trust you may be rewarded. Miss Cornelia isfortunate to have such a home waiting to receive her. What room do youpropose to dedicate to her use?"

Miss Briskett's face clouded, and she drew a long, despairing sigh. 

"That's another thing I am troubled about. I had the best spare roomdone up only this spring. The carpet had faded, and when I was renewingit I took the opportunity to have in the painters and paperhangers. Itis _all_ fresh, even the curtains and bed-hangings. They have not oncebeen used. "

Mrs Ramsden purred in sympathetic understanding. 

"Poor dear! When one has just made a room all fresh and clean, it is_most_ trying to have it taken into use! But why give her that room atall, dear? You have several others. A young, unmarried girl should besatisfied with a room at the back, or even on the third storey. Youhave a nice little guest room over your own bedroom, have you not?"

"No!" Miss Briskett again manifested a noble determination to do herduty. "I should like Edward to feel, when he comes over, that I havepaid his daughter all due honour. She must have the spare room, and ifshe spills things over the new carpet, I must pray for grace to bear it. She has been accustomed to a very luxurious style of living for thelast few years, and I daresay even my best room will not be as handsomeas her own apartment. In the present state of Edward's finances, sheis, I suppose, a very great heiress. "

Little Mrs Ramsden stared into her cup with a kindly thoughtfulness. 

"I should keep that fact secret, if I were you, " she said earnestly. "Poor lassie! it's always a handicap to a girl to be received for whatshe has, rather than what she is. And there are two or three idle, worthless young men hanging about, who might be only too glad to pick upa rich wife. I should simply announce that I was expecting a niece fromthe United States of America, to pay me a visit of some months'duration, and offer no enlightenment as to her circumstances. You willhave enough responsibility as it is, without embarrassingentanglements. "

"Yes, indeed. Thank you so much. I feel sure that your advice is wise, and I shall certainly follow it. There's that soldier nephew of MrsMott's, who is constantly running down on short visits. I objectintensely to that dashing style! He is just the type of man to runafter a girl for her money. I shall take special care that they do notmeet. One thing I am determined upon, " said Miss Briskett, sternly, "and that is that there shall be no love-making, nor philandering of anykind under my roof. I could not be troubled with such nonsense, norwith the responsibility of it. I am accustomed to a quiet, regularlife, and if Cornelia comes to me, she must conform to the regulationsof the household. At my age I cannot be expected to alter my ways forthe sake of a girl. "

"Certainly not. She is a mere girl, I suppose! How old may she be?"

Miss Briskett considered. 

"She was born in the winter! I distinctly remember coming in and seeingthe cable, and taking off my fur gloves to open it. --It was the year Ibought the dining-room carpet. It was just down, I remember, and as wedrank the baby's health, the cork flew out of the bottle, and some ofthe champagne was spilt, and there was a great fuss wiping it up--Twenty-two years ago! Who would have thought it could be so long?"

"Ah, it always pays to get a good thing while you are about it. Itcosts a great deal at the start, but you have such satisfactionafterwards. It's not a bit faded!" Mrs Ramsden affirmed, alluding, beit understood, to the Turkey carpet, and not to Miss Cornelia Briskett. "Twenty-two. Just a year younger than my Elma! Elma will be glad tohave a companion. "

"It is kind of you to say so. Nothing would please me better than tosee Cornelia become intimate with your daughter. Poor child, she hasnot had the advantages of an English upbringing; but we must hope thatthis visit will be productive of much good. She could not have a betterexample than Elma. She is a type of a sweet, guileless, English girl. "

"Ye-es!" asserted the sweet girl's mother, doubtfully; "but you know, dear Miss Briskett, that at times even Elma. .. " She shook her head, sighed, and continued with a struggling smile: "We must remember--mustwe not--that we have been young ourselves, and try not to be too hard onlittle eccentricities!"

Mrs Ramsden spoke with feeling, for memory, though slumbering, was notdead. She had not always been a well-conducted widow lady, whoexpressed herself with decorum, and wore black cashmere and bugles. Thirty odd years ago she had been a plump little girl, with a livelycapacity for mischief. 

On one occasion she had danced two-thirds of the programme at a ballwith an officer even more dashing than the objectionable nephew of MrsMott, and in a corner of the conservatory had given him a flower fromher bouquet. He had kissed the flower before pressing it in his pocket-book, and had looked as if he would have liked to kiss something elseinto the bargain. . .. After twenty-five years of life at Norton, it wasastonishing how vividly the prim little widow recalled the guilty thrillof that moment! On yet another occasion she had carried on aclandestine correspondence with the brother of a friend, and hadawakened to tardy pangs of conscience only when a more attractive suitorcame upon the scene!

Mrs Ramsden blushed at the remembrance, and felt a kindly softening ofthe heart towards the absent Cornelia but Miss Briskett remained coldlyunmoved. She had been an old maid in her cradle, and had gone onsteadily growing old maidier ever since. Never had she so forgottenherself as to dally with the affections of any young man, which wasperhaps the less to her credit, as no young man had exhibited anyinclination to tempt her from the paths of single blessedness. 

She looked down her nose at her friend's remark, and replied that shetrusted she might be enabled to do her duty, without either prejudice orindulgence, and soon afterwards Mrs Ramsden took her leave, andreturned to her own domain. 

At one of the windows of the over-furnished sitting-room of The Holt, agirl was standing gazing dreamily through the spotted net curtains, witha weary little droop in the lines of the figure which bespoke fatigue, rather mental, than physical. She was badly dressed, in an ill-cutskirt, and an ill-cut blouse, and masses of light brown hair weretwisted heavily together at the back of her head; but the face, whichshe turned to welcome her mother reminded one instinctively of a bunchof flowers--of white, smooth-leaved narcissi; of fragrant pink roses; ofpansies--deep, purple-blue pansies, soft as velvet. Given the rightcircumstances and accessories, this might have been a beauty, anhistorical beauty, whose name would be handed down from one generationto another; a Georgina of Devonshire, a beautiful Miss Gunning, awitching Nell Gwynne; but alas! beauty is by no means independent ofexternal aid! The poets who declaim to the contrary are men, poorthings, who know no better; every woman in the world will plump for agood dressmaker, when she wishes to appear at her best. 

Elma Ramsden, with the makings of a beauty, was just a pretty, dowdygirl, at whom a passer-by would hardly cast a second glance. She lookedbored too, and a trifle discontented, and her voice had a flat, uninterested tone. 

"Well, mother, back again! Have you enjoyed your call?"

"Thank you, dear, it was hardly a case of enjoyment. I was invited togive my opinion of a matter of importance. "

"Yes, I know!--Should she have the sweep this week, or the week afternext?--Should she have new covers for the drawing-room?--Would youadvise slate-grey, or grey-slate for the new dress? . .. I hope youbrought the weight of your intellect to bear on the great problems, andsolved them to your mutual satisfaction!"

Mrs Ramsden seated herself on a deeply-cushioned arm-chair, and beganpulling off her tight kid gloves. A touch of offence was visible in herdemeanour, and the feather in the front of her bonnet reared itself atan aggressive angle. 

"It is not in good taste, my dear, to talk in that tone to your mother. Matters of domestic interest may not appeal to you in your presentirresponsible position, but they are not without their own importance. The subject of to-day's discussion, however, was something quitedifferent. You will be interested to hear that Miss Briskett isexpecting a young American niece to pay her a visit at an early date. "

"How young?" inquired Elma, tentatively. Her mother had a habit ofalluding to "girls" of thirty-five, which did not commend itself to heryouthful judgment. She reserved her interest until assured on thisimportant point. 

"About your own age or slightly younger. The only daughter of MrEdward Briskett, the head of the family. His business takes him awayfrom home for several months, and his daughter is anxious to availherself of the opportunity of visiting her aunt. "

"Oh!" said Elma; no more and no less, but as she turned her pansy-likeeyes once more to the window, she grimaced expressively. She was sorryfor the delusion of the American daughter who was willing to cross awhole ocean for the privilege of beholding Miss Sophia Briskett!

"What is she like?" she asked presently. "Did you hear anything abouther?"

Mrs Ramsden shook her head dolefully. 

"I fear, dear--strictly between ourselves--that she is not preciselywhat we should call a _nice_ girl! The tone of her letter was decidedlyflippant. Miss Briskett is hoping much from your influence. You twogirls will naturally come a good deal into contact, and I hope you willdo your utmost to set her an example of ladylike demeanour. "

Elma stared steadily through the window. "_Flippant_" she repeated toherself in a breathless whisper. "_Flippant_!" The pansy eyes widened. She heaved a sigh of deep, incredulous delight. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

The _Lucania_ was due to arrive in the Mersey early on a Tuesdayforenoon, and Miss Briskett expected to welcome her niece on the eveningof the same day. The best spare room was already swept and garnished, and nothing remained but to take counsel with Heap the cook, and drawout a menu of a dinner which could most successfully combat the strainof waiting. The spinster's own appetite, though sparse, was fastidious, and Heap was a mistress of her art, so that between the two a daintylittle meal was arranged, while Mason, not to be outdone, endeavoured toimpart an extra polish to her already highly-burnished silver. In theseclusion of the pantry she hummed a joyful air. "Praise the pigs! weshall have something young in the house, at last, " said she to herself. "I don't mind the extra work, if she'll only make a bit of a stir!"

By six o'clock the dinner-table was laid, and Miss Briskett was sittingin state, clad in her newest grey silk gown, though a reference toBradshaw made it seem improbable that the traveller could arrive beforeseven o'clock. At half-past six hot water was carried up to thebedroom; ten minutes later Miss Briskett left her seat to move anotherfew yards nearer the window. Streaks of colour showed in her cheeks, her fingers clasped and unclasped in nervous fashion. She was consciousof a quick thud-thud at the left side of the thickly-boned bodice, andrealised with surprise that it came from that almost forgotten organ, her heart. She had never experienced this agitation before whenawaiting the arrival of her own friends. The old adage was right afterall--blood was thicker than water! What would the child be like?Edward was a big fair man, with no special beauty of feature. Sybil hadbeen slight and dainty. It did not seem likely that Cornelia would bespecially pretty, her aunt prayed above all things that she wasunnoticeable--to be unnoticeable was regarded as the climax of elegancein Norton society!--then with a sudden softening of expression foundherself hoping that there would be something of Edward in looks ormanner! She was a lonely woman, living apart from her kin. To havesomeone of her own would be a new and delightful experience. She feltglad, actually _glad_ that Cornelia was coming!

Seven o'clock! At any moment now a cab might appear bearing theexpected guest from the station. Miss Briskett crossed the room toalter the arrangement of a vase of flowers, and as she did so, the dooropened, and Mason entered carrying a telegram upon a silver salver. Miss Briskett tore it open, and read the following message:--

 "Safe and sound. Staying night in London with friends. Sight-seeing to-morrow morning. Be with you at five. God save the Queen!-- Cornelia. "

Miss Briskett's lips tightened. She folded the orange-coloured paperand returned it to its envelope, cleared her throat and said coldly--

"Inform Heap that my niece will not arrive until to-morrow evening, andbe good enough to serve dinner at once. "

Mason's face clouded with disappointment. In the kitchen Heap bangedthe saucepan-lids, and wanted to know what was the use of doing yourbest in a despicable world where you never got nothing for your pains!Mary repaired dolefully upstairs to take away the hot water, and shroudthe furniture in dust-sheets; even the tweeny felt a sudden dampening ofspirits, while in the dining-room the mistress of her house sat at hersolitary meal with anger smouldering in her heart!

A delay to the boat would, of course, have been inevitable; if Corneliahad been so fatigued that she felt it necessary to break her journeyhalf-way, that would have been a disappointment pure and simple, butthat the girl had _chosen_ to delay her arrival for her own amusementand gratification, this was an offence indeed--a want of respect andconsideration well-nigh unforgivable. Staying in town with friends!--Staying _where_?--With what friends? Doing the sights to-morrowmorning! Miss Briskett's lip curled in disdain. Then that ridiculousending! What would Miss Brewster, the telegraph clerk at the post-office, think of such frivolity! In this tiny township, everyone was aswell acquainted with their neighbour's business as with their own, andwhile Emily Brewster at the post-office was keenly interested in theadvent of the American visitor, Miss Briskett, in her turn, knew allabout Emily's parentage and education, the nature and peculiarities ofthe diseases which she had enjoyed, and vouchsafed a patronisinginterest in her prospects. It was gall and wormwood to feel sure thatEmily had laughed and made merry over a message addressed to a Briskett, from a member of her own house!

Everyone has experienced the flatness which ensues when an expectedexcitement is postponed at the last moment, leaving the hours to dragalong a slow, uneventful course. It was long since Miss Briskett hadfelt so consciously lonely and depressed as at her solitary dinner thatevening. In the drawing-room, even Patience lost its wonted charm, andshe was thankful when the time arrived to sip her tumbler of hot water, and retire to bed. 

Next day it seemed somewhat flat to make the same preparations a secondtime over, but as no contradictory message had been received, it did notappear possible that a second disappointment could supervene. The tea-table was set out with special care, and a supply of home-made cakesplaced on the three-storied brass stand. Once more Miss Briskett donnedher best gown, and sat gazing through the lace window curtains. 

At last! A cab drove up to the gate; two cabs, laden with enoughluggage for a family journeying to the seaside. The door of the firstwas thrown open and there jumped out--a _man_! a tall, alert young manclad in a suit of light-checked tweed, who turned and gave his hand to agirl in blue serge, carefully assisting her to alight. They saunteredup the path together, laughing and chattering in leisurely enjoyment;half-way to the house the girl turned round, and stood for a moment tostare at the view, pointing, as she did so, in frank, unabashed fashion. Then they approached the door, held hospitably open in Mason's hand. 

"Why, Aunt Soph, is that you?" cried a high, clear voice, with apronounced American accent, which rang strangely in the unaccustomedears. "This is me, anyhow, and I'm real glad to see you. I've had alovely ride! This is Mr Eustace C Ross, who crossed with us in the_Lucania_. He's brought me right here in case I got lost, or fell overthe edge. England's sweet! I've been all over London this morning, andwe did a theatre last night. . .. Aunt Soph, you have a look of fatherabout the nose! Makes me feel kinder homesick to see your nose. I'mgoing to kiss it right away?"

And kiss it she did, on its thin, chilly tip, with Mason sniggering withdelight in the background, and the strange young man chuckling in theforeground. Miss Briskett retreated hastily into the drawing-room, andher niece followed, casting curious glances to right and to left. 

"You've got a real cosy little house, Aunt Soph. It looks realEnglish--not a mite like our place at home. Is that tea? I'm justabout dying for a cup of tea, and so's Mr Ross. Don't you want a cupof tea more than anything in the world, Mr Ross? I see you do by theway you look!"

She sank into an easy chair, and flashed a mischievous glance at theyoung man by her side. He was a tall, well-built young fellow, with thesquare shoulders and aggressive chin which to the English eye are theleading characteristics of American men. He had the air of beingexceedingly well able to look after himself, but even his self-possession wavered before the frosty nature of his reception. He stoodirresolutely, hat in hand, waiting for a repetition of Cornelia'sinvitation, but none came, and with an almost imperceptible shrug of theshoulders, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and announced that itwas imperative that he should hasten back to the station to catch areturn train to town. He proceeded, therefore, to take leave of histravelling companion, a proceeding characterised on his side bytransparent regret, on hers by an equally transparent indifference. 

"You'll be sure to let me know when you come home!"

"Yes, indeed! I'll write when I start, and you shall come down to meetthe boat. Good-bye! You've been real kind! I'm ever so much obliged!"

"Oh, I've enjoyed it enormously. You must be sure to let me know ifthere is anything I can do--at any time--anywhere!" repeated the youngfellow, ardently. 

He bowed to Miss Briskett, who extended her hand in patronisingfarewell, accompanying him to the door of the room, less, it appeared, from motives of kindliness, than to satisfy herself that he had reallydeparted. 

On her return she found that her niece had taken off her hat, and wasleaning back in her chair, sticking hat-pins through the crown withsmiling complacence. Miss Briskett surveyed her with not unnaturalcuriosity, and came to the swift conclusion that she was not at allpretty, but most objectionably remarkable in appearance. The sort ofgirl whom people would stare at in the street; the sort of girl whomNorton would emphatically disapprove! Her hair in itself was arresting. Miss Briskett had never seen such hair. It was not red, it was notgold, it was not brown; but rather a blending of all three colours. Itwas, moreover, extraordinarily thick, and stood out from the head in acrisp mass, rippling into big natural waves, while behind each ear was abroad streak of a lighter shade, almost flaxen in colour. No artificialmeans could have produced such an effect; it was obviously the work ofnature. "American nature!" Miss Briskett told herself with a sniff. Arespectably brought-up English girl could never have possessed such ahead! Underneath this glorious mass of hair was a pale, little face, lighted up by a pair of golden-brown eyes. The eyebrows were well-marked and remarkably flexible; the nose was thin and pointed, ayouthful replica of Miss Briskett's own. The only really good featurewas the mouth, and that was adorable, with coral red lips curling up atthe corners; tempting, kissable lips, made for love and laughter. Forthe rest, it was difficult to understand how a plain blue serge gowncould possibly contrive to look so smart, or how those tiniest of tinybrown boots had managed to keep so dazzlingly free from dust throughouta railway journey. 

Miss Briskett sat herself down by the tea-table, and cleared her throatominously. Her niece had not been ten minutes in the house, yet alreadyan occasion had arisen for a serious rebuke. 

"Are you engaged to that young man, may I ask, Cornelia?"

Cornelia gave a little jump upon her seat, and opened her golden eyes ina stare of amazement. 

"Mussy, no! What in the land put such an idea in your head?"

"Your tone and manner, my dear, and the fact of his accompanying you allthe way from town. It is not usual for young men to put themselves toso much trouble for a mere acquaintance. "

"He don't think it a trouble. He loves flying around! He's a sweetthing, " said Miss Cornelia, with smiling recollection, "but he's not myChubb! I'm sorry he couldn't stay to tea, for he's real amusing when heonce gets started. He'd have made you screech with laughter. "

Miss Briskett looked down her nose, in her most dignified and rebukingfashion. 

"I am not accustomed to `screech' about anything, and in this country, my dear, it is not considered convenable for young girls to accept theescort of a gentleman to whom they are not engaged. No English girlwould think of doing such a thing!"

"They must have a middling dull time of it, " retorted Cornelia, calmly, "I must teach them a thing or two while I'm over. " She rose to take theteacup from her aunt's hand, and to help herself to a couple ofsandwiches from a dainty heart-shaped dish. "Well--aren't you pleasedto have me, Aunt Soph? I've wanted years to come over and see you. Itseemed too bad that I knew none of Poppar's people. And now I'm here!"She wheeled round, teacup in hand, staring curiously around thehandsome, over-furnished room; at the big ebony console table, ornamented with bunches of fruit manufactured out of coloured pebbles;at the grand piano in its walnut case; the piano which was never opened, but which served as a stand for innumerable photographs and ornaments;at the old-fashioned sofas and chairs in their glazey chintz covers; atthe glass-shaded vases on the marble mantelshelf. "I'm here, and it'stoo quaint for words! Everything's--_different_! I suppose England_is_ different, isn't it, Aunt Soph?"

"Very different!" Miss Briskett's tones fairly bubbled with innuendoes. She put down her rolled slice of bread and butter, and added frostily, "Before we go any further, Cornelia, I must really beg you to address meby my proper name. My name is Sophia. You have no intention of beingdisrespectful, I feel sure, but I am not accustomed to abbreviations. Ihave never had a nickname in my life, and I have no wish to begin atthis late date. "

"My! you poor sufferer, how lonesome for you! Nicknames are so homelyand cosy. I have about as many as I have toes. One of my friends callsme `Corney. ' He's a bit of a wag--(`He, ' indeed!)--Another one calls me`Nelia, '--`Neel-ya!'" She threw a lingering sentiment into therepetition, and chuckled reminiscently. "To most of my chums I'm just`Neely. ' Life's too short for three syllables every day of the week!"

"Over here in England we are not too hurried to address people in aproper manner. I shall call you by your full name, and expect you to dothe same by me. "

"All right, Aunt Sophia Ann, just as you please, " cried Cornelia, naughtily. She was standing up, cup in hand, but even as she spoke shesubsided on to a footstool by Miss Briskett's side, with a sudden lithecollapse of the body, which made that good lady gasp in dismay. She hadnever seen anybody but a professional acrobat move so quickly orunexpectedly, and felt convinced that the tea must have been spilt, andcrumbs scattered wholesale over the carpet. But no! not even a drop hadfallen into the saucer, and there sat Cornelia nibbling at an undamagedsandwich with little, strong, white teeth, as cool and composed as ifsuch feats were of everyday occurrence. 

"This is how I sit by Poppar at home; it's more sociable than rightacross the room. Poppar and I are just the greatest chums, and I hateit when he's away. There was a real nice woman wanted to come and keephouse, and take me around--Mrs Van Dusen, widow of Henry P Van Dusen, who made a boom in cheese. Maybe you've heard of him. He made a pile, and lost it all, trying to do it again. Then he got tired of himselfand took the _grippe_ and died, and it was pretty dull for Mrs Van. She visits round, and puts in her time the best way she can. She'd haveliked quite well to settle down at our place for three or four months, and I'd have liked it too, if it hadn't been for you. I wanted to seeyou Aunt Soph--ia Ann!"

She put up a thin little hand, and rubbed it ingratiatingly up and downthe shiny silk lap, to the stupefaction of Mason, who came in at thatmoment bearing a plate of hot scones, and retired to give a faithfulrendering of the position to her allies in the kitchen, sitting down onthe fender stool, and stroking the cook's apron in dramatic imitation, while that good lady and her satellites went into helpless fits oflaughter. 

"I'd as soon stroke a nettle myself, " said the cook, "but there's noaccounting for taste! You take my word for it, if she goes on strokingmuch longer, she'll get a sting as she won't forget in a hurry!"

Upstairs in the drawing-room, Miss Briskett's fidgeting uncomfortablybeneath that caressing hand. In her lonely, self-contained life, shewas so unused to demonstrations of the kind that she was at a loss howto receive them when they came. Instinctively she drew herself away, shrinking into the corners of her chair and busying herself with the re-arrangement of the tray, while Cornelia asked one question after anotherin her high-pitched, slightly monotonous voice. 

"It's mighty quiet out here, Aunt Soph--ia Ann! Does it always go onbeing just as still? Do you live all the year round, right here in thishouse by your lonesome, listening to the grass growing across the lane?What do you _do_, anyway? That's a real smart-looking maid! Will shebe the one to wait upon me? Most all my shirt waists fasten up theback, and there's got to be someone round to fix them, or I'm allundone. I guess you're pretty tidy by the looks of you, Aunt Soph. Ican't see after things myself, but I fidget the life out of everybody ifI'm not just so. I've got the sweetest clothes. --Do you have gay timesover here in Norton? Is there a good deal of young society? I loveprancing round and having a good time. Poppar says the boys spoil me;there's always a crowd of them hanging round, ready to do everything Iwant, and to send me flowers and bon-bons. I'm just crazed on bonbons!My state-room was piled full of bouquets and chocolates coming over. Ihad more than any other girl on board!"

Miss Briskett's lips tightened ominously. "If by `boys' you mean youngmen, Cornelia, I am surprised that your father allows you to receiveindiscriminate gifts from strangers. I fear he hag become a thoroughAmerican, and forgotten his early training. In England no young manwould venture to send a gift to a lady to whom he was not eitherrelated, or engaged to be married. "

"My! how mean! Amurican men are for ever sending things, and the girlsjust love to have them do it. Seems to me, Aunt Soph, it's about time Icame over to teach you how to do things in this benighted isle! Popparsays you're all pretty mouldy, but, short of an earthquake, he can'tthink of anything better calculated to shake you up, than a good spellof me waltzing around. I guess he's about right. I'm never quietunless I'm sick. There's not much of the Sleeping Beauty about CorneliaE Briskett!"

Miss Briskett sat still, a pillar of outraged propriety. This was worsethan anything she had expected! The girl appeared to have no modesty, no decorum, no sense of shame. She might straighten her back until itwas as stiff as a poker, might arch her brows into semicircles, andpurse her lips into an expression of disapproval which would havefrightened Elma Ramsden out of her senses, but Cornelia never appearedto notice that anything was amiss, and continued her meal with blandenjoyment. When she had finished the sandwiches she rested her left armmore firmly on her aunt's knee, and raised her pointed chin until itrested, actually rested, upon the edge of the table, the while shecarefully scrutinised the different varieties of cake, and selected thepiece most to her taste. At this she proceeded to nibble with evidentsatisfaction, lifting it to her lips in one thin hand, while the otherstill rested caressingly on that shiny silk lap. Miss Briskett's dumbswellings of anger gradually subsided to the point when it becamepossible to put them into words. She cleared her throat with the usualpreliminary grunt, whereupon the girl turned her stag-like head, to gazequestioningly upwards, her expression sweetly alert, her eyes--limpid, golden eyes--widely opened between the double line of lashes!

Miss Briskett looked, and the remonstrance died on her lips. The sceneshifted, and in an instant she had travelled back through the years to aday long, long ago, when she sat, a girl in her teens, talking to thelittle boy brother who was the dearest of all created things, tellinghim stories, and watching the wonder in his eyes! Pert, self-sufficient, and presumptuous as she might be, by some contradictoryfreak of nature, that divine innocence still lingered in this younggirl's eyes. The sight of it arrested the words on the spinster's lips. She realised with shame that almost every word which she had spoken tothe girl since her arrival had been tinged with reproof, and blushed forher own lack of hospitality. The frown faded, and was replaced by astruggling smile. With a half-strained movement she advanced a chillyhand to meet the girl's warm grasp. 

Cornelia drew a long, fluttering sigh; a sigh of utter contentment, andlaid her russet head on the folds of the stiff grey silk. 

"Oh, Aunt Soph--ia! you are just as sweet!" she murmured beneath herbreath. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

Perfect health, radiant spirits, supreme self-confidence, a sweetlysmiling determination to have her own way, and go her own course, thoughthe skies fell, and all creation conspired to prevent her--these werethe characteristics of Miss Cornelia Briskett most apparent on asuperficial acquaintance. On the morning after her arrival, when Marythe housemaid carried the cup of early morning tea to her bedside, shefound the young lady leaning back against the pillows, enveloped in agarment which suggested a garden party, rather than a night-gown, wideawake, and ready for conversation. Really a most affable young lady, who instead of vouchsafing a cool good-morning, launched out into quitea confidential talk, inquiring after the different members of Mary'sfamily, their names, ages, and occupations, and showing a mostsympathetic interest in the girl's own future. 

"I guess you are going to be married pretty soon! You've got a marryingface!" she said shrewdly, whereupon Mary, blushing, acknowledged thatshe _had_ a friend, and that he _did_ speak of early next spring. 

"Told you so!" cried Cornelia, dimpling. "Well, Mury, see here, you nipround and wait upon me the best you know, and I'll give you an elegantpresent! I wear muslins most all the time in summer, and I can't endoorto have them mussed. You keep carrying them away and ironing them outnice and smooth, without bothering me to tell you. See! I need lots ofattention; there's no getting away from that, but I'll make it worthyour while. You just put your mind to it, and I guess you'll make atip-top maid!"

Mary was at least prepared to perish in the attempt. She related theconversation downstairs, with the natural result that each of the otherthree maids registered a vow to be second to none in her attentions tothe young visitor. 

The breakfast-gong rang at eight o'clock, but it was a good ten minuteslater before Cornelia came sauntering downstairs, singing an unknownditty at the pitch of a sweet, if somewhat nasal voice. She was dressedin white of the most elaborate simplicity, and her shaded hair lookedeven more crisply conspicuous than on the night before. The last lineof the song did not come to an end until she was half-way across thedining-room floor, and so far from being dismayed by her aunt's stare ofdisapproval, she only laughed, waved her hands, and threw an extraflourish into the rallentando. Then she swooped down upon the stifffigure, hugged it affectionately, and planted three kisses on the cold, grey face; one on the lips, one on the brow, a third--deliberately--onthe tip of the nose. 

"Cornelia, please! Recollect yourself, my dear! Have a little respect. You must never do that again!" cried Miss Briskett, irritably, but thegirl showed not the faintest sign of being awed. 

"It's the nose of my father, and I've just _got_ to kiss it! It's not amite of use promising that I won't. I've got to kiss it regularly everymorning, and every night, until he comes over to be kissed himself!" sheannounced calmly, seating herself at the opposite side of the squaredining-table, and peering curiously at the various dishes. "Poppar saysyou never have anything for breakfast in England but bacon and eggs, butI don't see any here. What's under this cover?--Fish?"

"If you wait a few minutes your bacon will be brought in. It had growncold with waiting so long, so I sent it away to be kept hot. Thebreakfast hour is eight; not a quarter past. "

"It's not a mite of use telling me the hours. I'm always late! I don'tsuppose I've ever been down in time in my life, unless by a mistake, "returned Cornelia, cheerfully. "I like to stay in bed and let the dayget sorter warmed up and comfortable, before I begin. What makes youwant to get up so early, anyway? I should have thought nine would havebeen heaps early enough, when you have nothing to do. "

It was not a promising beginning to the day. In her own household MissBriskett was accustomed to an authority as complete as that of thegeneral of an army. She was just, and she was generous; her servantswere treated with kindness and consideration, but if they wished toretain their places, they had to learn the lesson of dumb, unquestioningobedience. She might be right, she might be wrong, she might remember, she might forget--no matter! it was not their business to enlighten her. "Theirs but to do, and die!" She would not brook a question as to herown authority. It was, therefore, a distinct blow to the good lady tofind her decrees ignored by her young guest with a smiling good-nature, more baffling than the most determined opposition. 

She remained stolidly silent throughout the meal, but Corneliaapparently regarded he attitude as a tactful abdication in her ownfavour, and kept up an incessant flow of conversation from start tofinish. When the bell was rung for prayers, she seated herself in a lowchair, directly facing the servants' seats, and smiled a dazzlinggreeting to each in turn. They sat down in their usual positions, headsbent, hands folded on the middle of their clean white aprons; feettucked carefully out of sight; there was no outward sign of irreverenceor inattention in their demeanour, but Miss Briskett _felt_, that everysingle woman of them was absorbed--utterly, consumedly absorbed--incasting sly glances at that distracting white vision in the easy chair;at the dully glowing hair, the floating folds of white, the tiny, extended feet. She might have read a page of the dictionary, and theywould not have noticed; even Heap, who was old enough to know better, was edging sideways in her chair, to get a better view!

When the four stiffly-starched dresses had rustled out of the room, Cornelia yawned, and stretched herself like a sleepy, luxurious kitten, then snoodled down once more in her comfortable chair. Her eyes werefixed upon her aunt's face, while that good lady bustled about the room, folding the newspaper into an accurate square, and putting it away in abrass-bound cage; collecting scattered envelopes and putting them in thewaste-paper basket, moving the flower-vases on the chimney-piece, sothat they should stand at mathematically the same distance from thecentral clock. At every movement she waited to hear the expected, "CanI help you, Aunt Sophia?" which right feeling would surely prompt in anywell-principled damsel, and though her reply would of a certainty havebeen in the negative, she felt aggrieved that the opportunity was notvouchsafed. 

She was determined not to look in the girl's direction, nor to meetthose watching eyes, but presently, in spite of herself, she felt amagnetic compulsion to turn her head to answer the bright, expectantglance. 

"Well?" queried Cornelia, smiling. 

"Well what, my dear?"

"How are you going to amuse me this forenoon?"

Miss Briskett sat down suddenly in the nearest chair, and suffered amental collapse. Positively this view of the situation had never oncedawned upon her unimaginative brain! Mrs Ramsden had dimly wrestledwith the problem, solving it at last with an easy, "She can talk toElma!" but the aunt and hostess had been too much occupied withconsideration for her own comfort to think of anyone else. It hadcrossed her mind that the girl might tire her, bore her, worry her, orhumiliate her before the neighbours; in an occasional giddy flight offancy she had even supposed it possible that Cornelia might amuse her, and make life more agreeable, but never for the fraction of a second hadshe realised that she herself was fated either to bore, or to amuseCornelia in return!

The discovery was a shock. Being a just woman, Miss Briskett was forcedto the conclusion that she had been selfish and self-engrossed; but suchself-revelations do not as a rule soften our hearts towards the fellow-creature who has been the means of our enlightenment. Miss Briskett wasannoyed with herself, but she was much more annoyed with Cornelia, andconsidered that she had good reason to be so. 

"I have no time to think of frivolities in the morning, my dear. I amtoo busy with household duties. I am now going to the kitchen tointerview my cook, then to the store-room to give out what is needed forthe day, and when that is accomplished I shall go to the shops to givemy orders. If you wish, I shall be pleased to have your company!"

"Right oh!" cried Cornelia, nodding. "It will be a lesson in your sillyold pounds and pence. What do you keep in your store-room, Aunt Soph?Nice things? Fruits? Candy? Cake? I wouldn't mind giving out thestores for a spell, now and again. Well! . .. I'll just mouch round, and be ready for you when you set out for your walk. "

Miss Briskett left the room, in blissful ignorance of what "mouch" mightmean, and much too dignified to inquire, but by the time that teno'clock had struck, she had learnt to connect the expression with allthat was irritating and presumptuous. In the midst of her discussionwith the cook, for instance, the sound of music burst upon her ears; theecho of that disused piano which had almost forgotten to be anything buta stand for ornaments and lamps. Bang went the bass, crash went thetreble, the tune a well-known dance, played with a dash and a spirt, arollicking marking of time irresistible to any human creature underforty, who did not suffer from corns on their toes. In the recesses ofthe scullery a subdued scuffling was heard. Tweeny was stepping it toand fro, saucepans in hand; from the dining-room overhead, where Masonwas clearing away the breakfast dishes, came a succession of mysteriousbumping sounds. Heap stood stolid as a rock, but her eyes--her small, pale, querulous eyes--danced a deliberate waltz round the table andback. .. 

"I must request Cornelia not to play the piano in the morning!" saidMiss Briskett to herself. 

From the store-room upstairs a sound of talking and laughing was heardfrom within the visitor's bedroom, where sat that young lady in state, issuing orders to Mary, who was blissfully employed in unpacking thecontents of one of the big dress boxes, and hanging up skirts in themahogany wardrobe. 

"I must beg Cornelia not to interfere with the servants' work in themorning!" said Miss Briskett once more. At half-past ten silencereigned, and she went downstairs, equipped in her black silk mantle andher third best bonnet, to announce her readiness to start on the usualmorning round. 

Cornelia was not in the morning-room; she was not in the drawing-room, though abundant signs of her recent presence were visible in thelittered ornaments on the open piano. 

"I must beg Cornelia to put things back in their proper places!" saidMiss Briskett a third time as she crossed the hall to the dining-room. This room also was empty, but even as she grasped the fact, MissBriskett started with dismay to behold a bareheaded figure leaning overthe garden gate, elbows propped on the topmost bar, and chin supportedon clasped hands. This time she did not pause to determine whatcommands she should issue in the future, but stepped hastily down thepath to take immediate and peremptory measures. 

"My dear! in the front garden--without a hat--leaning over the gate!What can you be thinking of? The neighbours might see you!"

Cornelia turned in lazy amusement. "Well, if it's going to be a shockto them, they might as well begin early, and get it over. " She ran asurprised eye over her aunt's severe attire. "My, Aunt Soph, you looktoo good to live! I'm 'most frightened of you in that bonnet. If you'dgiven a hoot from the window I'd have hustled up, and not kept youwaiting. Just hang on two shakes while I get my hat. I won't stay toprink!"

"I am not accustomed--" began Miss Briskett, automatically, but shespoke to thin air. Cornelia had flown up the path in a cloud ofswirling skirts; cries of "Mury! Mury!" sounded from within, and themistress of the house slowly retraced her steps and seated herself toawait the next appearance of the whirlwind with what patience she couldcommand. 

It was long in coming. The clock ticked a slow quarter of an hour, andwas approaching twenty minutes, when footsteps sounded once more, andCornelia appeared in the doorway. She had not changed her dress, shehad not donned her jacket; her long, white gloves dangled from her hand;to judge from appearances she had spent a solid twenty minutes inputting on a tip-tilted hat which had been trimmed with bows of daintyflowered ribbon, on the principle of the more the merrier. MissBriskett disapproved of the hat. It dipped over the forehead, giving anobviously artificial air of demureness to the features; it tilted up atthe back, revealing the objectionable hair in all its wanton profusion. It looked--_odd_, and if there was one thing more than another to whichNorton objected, it was a garment which differentiated itself from itsfellows. 

Aunt and niece walked down the path together in the direction of theSouth Lodge, the latter putting innumerable questions, to which theformer replied in shocked surprise. "What were those gardens across theroad?"--They were private property of householders in the Park. --"Didthey have fine jinks over there in summer time?"--The householders inthe park never, under any circumstances, indulged in "jinks. " Theydisapproved thoroughly, and on principle, of anything connected withjinks!--"Think of that now--the poor, deluded creatures! What did theyuse the gardens for, anyway?"--The gardens were used for an occasionalpromenade; and were also valuable as forming a screen between the Parkand the houses on the Western Road. --"What was wrong with the houses onthe Western Road?"--There was nothing wrong with the houses in question. The residents in the Park objected to see, or to be seen by, _any_houses, however desirable. They wished to ensure for themselves anunbroken and uninterrupted privacy. --"My gracious!"

Mrs Phipps, the dragon of the South Lodge, came out to the doorstep, and bobbed respectfully as Miss Briskett passed by, but curiosity wasrampant upon her features. Cornelia smiled radiantly upon her; shesmiled upon everyone she met, and threw bright, curious glances to rightand to left. 

"My! isn't it _green_? My! isn't it still? Where _is_ everyone, anyway? Have they got a funeral in every house? Seems kind ofunsociable, muffling themselves up behind these hedgerows! Over withus, if we've got a good thing, we're not so eager to hide it away. Youcan walk along the sidewalk and see everything that's going on. In thetowns the families camp out on the doorsteps. It's real lively andsociable. . .. Are these your stores? They look as if they'd been madein the year one. "

They were, in truth, a quaint little row--butcher, grocer, greengrocer, and linen-draper, all nestled into a little angle between two long, outstanding buildings, which seemed threatening at every moment to falldown and crush them to atoms. The windows were small, and the spaceinside decidedly limited, and this morning there was an unusual rush ofcustomers. It seemed as if every housewife in the neighbourhood hadsallied forth to make her purchases at the exact hour when Miss Briskettwas known to do her daily shopping. At the grocer's counter Corneliawas introduced to Mrs Beaumont, of The Croft. 

"My niece, Miss Cornelia Briskett. Mrs Beaumont, " murmured MissBriskett. 

"Mrs Beau_mont_!" repeated Cornelia, loudly, with a gracious, sidelongobservance, at which unusual manner of receiving an introduction bothladies stared in surprise. 

Presently Mrs Beaumont recovered herself sufficiently to put an all-important question. 

"How do you like England?"

"I think it's lovely, " said Cornelia. 

In the fishmonger's shop Mrs Rhodes and Mrs Muir came up in theirturn, and opened wide eyes of surprise as the strange girl againrepeated their names in her high monotone. Evidently this was anAmerican custom. Strange people, the Americans! The ladies simpered, and put the inevitable query: "How do you like England?"

"I think it's sweet, " said Cornelia. 

The draper's shop was a revelation of old-world methods. One anaemic-looking assistant endeavoured to attend to three counters and half adozen customers, with an unruffled calm which they vainly strove toemulate. Miss Briskett produced a pattern of grey ribbon which shewished to match. Four different boxes were lifted down from the wall, and their contents ransacked in vain, while the patient waiters receivedsmall sops in the shape of cases and trays, shoved along to their cornerof the counter. When persuasion failed to convince Miss Briskett thatan elephant grey exactly matched her silvery fragment--"I'll see if wehave it in stock!" cried the damsel, hopefully, and promptly disappearedinto space. The minutes passed by; Cornelia frowned and fidgeted, wasintroduced to a fourth dame, and declared that England was "'cute. "Weary waiters for flannel and small-wares looked at their watches, andfidgeted restlessly, but no one rebelled, nor showed any inclination towalk out of the shop in disgust. At length the assistant reappeared, flushed and panting, to regret that they were "sold out, " and "What isyour next pleasure, madam?"

Madam's next pleasure was a skein of wool, which investigation againfailed to produce. "But we have a very nice line in kid gloves; can Ishow you something in that line this morning?" Miss Briskett refused tobe tempted, and produced a coin from her purse in payment of a smallaccount. Cornelia was interested to be introduced to "hef-a-crown, " andtried to calculate what would be left after the subtraction of amysterious "seven-three. " She had abundant time to calculate, for, tothe suspicious mind, it might really appear as if the assistant hademigrated to foreign climes with the half-crown as capital in hand. Thelittle shop was dull and stuffy; an odour of flannel filled the air; thefaces of the patient waiters were colourless and depressed. Corneliaflounced on her seat, and curled her beautiful lips. 

"My stars and stripes!" she cried aloud. "I'll take root if I sit heremuch longer. Seems as that change won't be ready till the last trump!"

She sprang from her chair as she spoke, too much absorbed in her ownimpatience to note the petrifaction of horror on the faces of thewaiters at the counter, and in the doorway came face to face with aplump, dignified little lady, accompanied by a girl in navy blue. 

"How do you do, my dear? I am Mrs Ramsden, " said the stoat lady, holding out her hand with a very pleasant friendliness. "As the nieceof my dear friend and neighbour, allow me to give you a hearty welcometo our shores. This is my daughter, Elma, with whom I hope you will begreat friends. I will leave you to talk together while I make mypurchases. Young people always get on better alone!"

She smiled, a kind, motherly smile, nodding her head the while, untilthe upright feather quivered on its stem, then disappeared through thedingy portals, leaving the two girls on the narrow pavement staring ateach other with bright, curious eyes. 

"How--how do you like England?" queried Elma, shyly, and Corneliaanswered with a happy laugh--

"I've been asked that question hef a dozen times already, and I only setfoot on these shores day before yesterday. I think it seems a real goodplace for a nerve rest, but if you want to hustle!--" She shruggedexpressively, and Elma smiled with quick understanding. 

"Ah, you have been shopping at Willcox's! But Willcox's is notEngland--Norton is not England; it's just a sleepy little backwater, shut away from the great current of life. Don't judge England by whatyou see here. You'd like the _real_ England--you couldn't help likingthat!"

"I like _you_!" said Cornelia, bluntly. She held out her hand with agesture of frank camaraderie, and Elma clasped it, thrilling withpleasure. A happy conviction assured her that she had found a friendafter her own heart. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

By the time that Cornelia had been a week in residence at The Nook, shehad become the one absorbing topic of Norton conversation, and heraunt's attitude towards her was an odd mingling of shame and pride. Onprinciple the spinster disapproved of almost everything that the girldid or said, and suffered every day a succession of electric shocks--but, as we all know, such shocks are guaranteed to exercise a bracinginfluence on the constitution, and Miss Briskett was conscious offeeling brighter and more alert than for many years past. She no longerreigned as monarch over all she surveyed. A Czar of Russia, suddenlyconfronted by a Duma of Radical principles and audacious energy, couldnot feel more proudly aggrieved and antagonistic, but it is conceivablethat a Czar might cherish a secret affection for the leader of anopposition who showed himself honest, clever, and affectionate. Inconclave with her own heart, Miss Briskett acknowledged that shecherished a distinct partiality for her niece, but in view of the saidniece's tendency to conceit, the partiality was rigorously concealed. 

As for Norton society, it welcomed Cornelia with open arms; that is tosay, all the old ladies of Miss Briskett's acquaintance called upon her, inquired if she liked England, and sent their maids round the followingday with neat little notes inviting aunt and niece to take tea on acertain afternoon at half-past four o'clock. These tea-drinkings soonbecame a daily occurrence, and Cornelia's attitude towards them was oneof consecutive anticipation, amusement, and ennui. You dressed up inyour best clothes; you sat in rows round a stuffy room; you drank stewedtea, and ate buttered cakes. You met every day the same--everlastinglythe same ladies, dressed in the same garments, and listened every day tothe same futile talk. From the older ladies, criticisms of lastSunday's sermon, and details of household grievances; from the younger, "_Have_ you seen Miss Horby's new hat? _Did_ you hear the latest aboutthe Briggs? . .. I'm going to have blue, with lace insertions. .. "

Cornelia bore it meekly for a week on end, and then she struck. Twonotes were discovered lying upon the breakfast-table containinginvitations to two more tea-parties. "So kind of them! You will liketo go, won't you, my dear?" said Miss Briskett, pouring out coffee. 

"No, I shan't, then!" answered Cornelia, ladling out bacon. Her curlinglips were pressed together, her flexible eyebrows wrinkled towards thenose. If Edward B Briskett had been present he would have recognisedsignals of breakers ahead! "I guess I'm about full up of tea-parties. I'm not going to any more, this side Jordan!"

"Not going, my dear?" Miss Briskett choked with mingled amazement anddismay. "Why not, if you please? You have no other engagements. Myfriends pay you the honour of an invitation. It is my wish that youaccept. You surely cannot mean what you are saying!"

She stared across the table in her most dignified and awe-inspiringfashion, but Cornelia refused to meet her eyes, devoting her entireattention to the consumption of her breakfast. 

"You bet I do!"

"Cornelia, how often must I beg you not to use that exceedinglyobjectionable expression? I ask you a simple question; please answer itwithout exaggeration. Why do you object to accompany me to these twoparties?"

"Because it's a waste of time. It's against my principles to have thesame tooth drawn six times over. I know all I want to about tea-partiesin England, and I'm ready to pass on to something fresh. I'd go cleancrazed if I'd to sit through that performance again. "

"I am sorry you have been so bored. I hoped you had enjoyed yourself, "said Miss Briskett, stiffly, but with an underlying disappointment inher tone, which Cornelia was quick to recognise. The imps of temper andobstinacy which had peeped out of her golden eyes suddenly disappearedfrom view, and she nodded a cheery reassurement. 

"I wasn't a mite bored at the start. I loved going round with you andseeing your friends, but I _have_ seen them, and they've seen me, and wesaid all we want to, so that trick is played out. You can't go ondrinking tea with the same old ladies all the days of your life? Whycan't they hit on something fresh?"

Miss Briskett did not reply. She was indeed too much upset for words. Tea-drinking was the only form of dissipation in which she and herfriends indulged, or had indulged for many years past. In moreenergetic days an occasional dinner had varied the monotony, but as timecrept on there seemed a dozen reasons for dropping the more elaborateform of entertainment. A dinner-party upset the servants; itnecessitated the resurrection of the best dinner-service from the chinacupboard, and the best silver from the safe; it entailed late hours, asense of responsibility, the exertion of entertaining. How much simplerto buy a sixpenny jar of cream and a few shillings worth of cake welcomeyour friends at half-past four, and be free at half-past five to liedown on the sofa, and have a nap before dressing for dinner!

Miss Briskett had counted on a protracted orgy of tea-parties in herniece's honour, and had already planned a return bout on her own accord, to set the ball rolling a second time. Her wildest flight of fancy hadnot soared beyond tea, and here was Cornelia showing signs of rebellionat the end of a fortnight! It said much for the impression which thatyoung lady had made that there was a note of actual entreaty in thevoice in which her aunt addressed her. 

"I think you must reconsider your decision, Cornelia. I strongly wishyou to accept these invitations, and my friends will be muchdisappointed if you refuse. When you understand the position, I feelsure you will put your own wishes on one side, and consent to do what isright and fitting. "

But Miss Cornelia tossed her head, and the impish light flashed backinto her golden eyes. 

"I ken't break my word, " she said bluntly. In moments of friction herAmerican accent was even more strongly marked than usual, which fact wasnot calculated to soften her aunt's irritation, "Poppar had me taught tosay a thing and stick to it, no matter how I suffered. I've _said_ Iwon't go, and I _won't_--not if all the old ladies in Christendom wereto come and howl at the door! You ken tell 'em I've come out in spots, and you reckon I'm going down with small-pox. "

"That would not be true. "

"Oh, shucks!" shrugged Cornelia. "Troth is a fine institootion, but, like most old things, it gives out at times, and then there's nothingfor it but to fall back upon good, new-fashioned imagination. "

Miss Briskett rose majestically from her seat and left the room. 

Cornelia lifted the remnant of bread which lay beside her plate, raisedit high above her head, and deliberately pitched it to the end of theroom. It hit against the wall, and fell over the carpet in a shower ofcrumbs. She chuckled malevolently, gave the table a vicious shove onone side, and rose in her turn. 

On one of the tables by the window stood a neat little pile of books;she lifted the topmost, and thrusting it under her arm, marcheddeliberately down the garden path to the front gate, and thence acrossthe road towards the gate leading into the plantation. It was a hot, sunny day, and half-way up the green knoll stood an oak tree, whosespreading branches made delightful dapplings of shade. Here also agentle breeze rustled the leaves to and fro, while in the stuffy pathsbelow the air itself seemed exhausted and bereft of life. Cornelialifted her white skirts, with a display of slim brown ankles which wouldhave scandalised the Norton worthies, stepped neatly and cleanly overthe wire arches, and made a bee-line across the grass for the forbiddenspot. She was in the mood when it seemed an absolute necessity to defysomebody, and even a printed notice was better than nothing. She seatedherself aggressively in the most conspicuous position, on the side ofthe tree facing the houses, spread wide her skirts on either side, folded her arms, and awaited developments. 

"I hope they'll _all_ look out and see me sitting on their old grass! Ihope they'll come over, and stand in _rows_ on the path, telling me thatnice young girls never sat on the grass in England. . .. Then I'll tell'em what _I_ think. . .. I'm just in the mood to do it. Seems as if Ihadn't drawn a free breath for weeks. `Cornelia, _don't_! Cornelia, _do_!' `In this country we always--' `In this country we never--' Mystars and stripes; why did I leave my happy home?"

Round the corner of the path there came into view the figure of Morris, keeper of the South Lodge, sweeping the gravel path, his head bent overhis task. Cornelia's naughty eyes sent out a flash of delight. Shecleared her throat in a deliberate "hem, " cleared it again, and coughedin conclusion. Morris leant on his broom, surveyed the landscape o'er, and visibly reeled at the sight of such barefaced trespassing. Thebroom was hoisted against a tree, while he himself mounted the slopingpath, shading his eyes from the sun. At the first glance he hadrecognised the "'Merican young lady, " whose doings and clothings--particularly clothings--had formed the unvarying theme of his wife'sconversation for the last fortnight. He had committed himself so far asto say that he rather fancied the looks of her, but in the depths of hisheart the feeling lingered that for a born lady she was a trifle "free. "Morris was a survival of the old feudal type who "knew his place, " andenjoyed being trampled under foot by his "betters. " If an employeraddressed him in terms of kindly consideration, his gratitude was tingedwith contempt. These were not the manners of the good old gentry inwhose service he had been trained!

Opposite the oak tree he came to a stand, and assumed his officialmanner. 

"Beg pardon, miss; visitors his not permitted on the graws. "

"For the land's sake, why not?"

"It's against the rules, miss. "

"Suppose it is! What will happen if I break 'em?"

Morris looked discomfited, pushed his hat from his forehead, andmurmured vaguely that he 'sposed she'd be punished. 

"Who by? Who does the grass belong to, anyhow?"

"To yer Rant, miss, and the hother ladies and gentlemen that owns thepark. "

"Well, and what could _they_ do?"

Morris, still vague and uncomfortable, murmured concerning prosecution. 

"What's prosecution?" queried Cornelia. "Sounds exciting, anyway. Muchmore exciting than sitting on the gravel paths. Guess I'll stay where Iam, and find out. You get on with your work, and keep calm, and whenthe fun begins you can waltz in, and play your part. It's no use _one_officer trying to arrest me, though! You'll need a _posse_, for I'llfight to the death! You might give them the tip!"

Morris walked down hill in stunned surprise, leaving Cornelia to chuckleto herself in restored good humour. Her impulses towards rebellion andrepentance were alike swift and speedy, but between the two lay a spanof licence, when she revelled in revolt, and felt the tingling ofriotous success. Such a moment was the present as she watched Morris'sdumb retreat, and cast her dancing eyes around, in search of the nextvictim. 

For the moment no living creature was in sight, but the scene wassufficiently entrancing to justify the statement that there is nocountry in the world so charming as England on a fine June day. 

It was hot, but not too hot to be exhausting; little fleecy white cloudsflecked the blue dome overhead; the air was sweet with the odour offlowering trees now in the height of their beauty. The gardener who hadplanted them had possessed a nice eye for colour, and much skill ingaining the desired effects. The golden rain of laburnum, and deep richred of hawthorn, were thrown up against the dark lustre of copper-beech, or the misty green of a graceful fir tree; white and purple lilac weredivided by a light pink thorn, and on the tall chestnuts the red andwhite blossoms shone like candles on a giant Christmas tree. It was theone, all-wonderful week, when everything seems in bloom at the sametime; the week which presages the end of spring, more beautiful thansummer, as promise is ever more perfect than fulfilment. Even the stiffcrescent of houses looked picturesque, viewed through the softeningscreen of green. Cornelia scanned the row of upper windows with smilingcuriosity. No one was visible; no one ever _was_ visible at a window atNorton Park; but discreetly hidden by the lace curtains, half a dozenbe-capped heads might even now be nodding in her direction. --"My dear, _what_ is that white figure under the oak tree? I thought at first itmust be a sheep, but it is evidently a female of some description. Itlooks exceedingly like--but it could not be, it could not _possibly_ be, Miss Briskett's niece! . .. "

Miss Briskett's niece chuckled, and turned her head to look up thesloping path. Her choice of position had been largely decided by thefact that Elma Ramsden was due to return by this route from a weeklymusic lesson somewhere about the present time. In the course of thepast week the two girls had drunk tea in the same houses everyafternoon, and exchanged sympathetic glances across a phalanx of elderlyladies, but the chances for _tete-a-tete_ conversations had beendisappointingly few, and this morning Cornelia had a craving for acompanion young enough to encourage her in her rebellion, or at least tounderstand the pent-up vitality which had brought it to a head. 

She watched eagerly for the advent of the tall, blue-robed figure. Elmaalways wore dark blue cambric on ordinary occasions. "So useful!" saidher mother, "and such a saving in the washing bill. " Mother anddaughter ran up the plain breadths in the sewing machine, and the onlyfitting in the body was compassed by a draw-string at the waist. It didnot seem a matter of moment to Mrs Ramsden whether the said string wasan inch higher or lower, and Elma was economical in belts. Cornelia'sexpression was eloquent as she viewed the outline of the English girl'sfigure as she slowly approached down the narrow path. So far Elma hadnot noticed her presence. She was too much buried in her own dreams. Poor pretty thing! That was all that was left to her--to take it out indreams. She had not yet begun to be awake!

CHAPTER SIX. 

Twenty yards farther Elma came to a halt, eyes and lips opened wide ingaping astonishment at the sight of the trespasser. 

"Cornelia! You are sitting on the grass. "

"That's so! Why shouldn't I, if I've a mind?"

"It's forbidden!"

"Oh, shucks!" cried Cornelia, impatiently. "Who by?"

Elma waved her hand vaguely towards the crescent of houses. 

"Everybody--all of them! It's a rule. They all agreed. "

"Suppose they did! I guess it would take more than ten old ladies toprevent me doing what I want. What's the good of grass, anyway, if youcan't enjoy it? It's lovely up here. I'm as cool as an otter. Youlook pretty warm after your walk. Step over, and come right here byme. " She patted the ground beside her, and smiled in her mostirresistible fashion. "We'll have the loveliest talk--"

Elma hesitated, fascinated but dismayed. 

"I daren't. It's breaking the rules. What would they say?"

"That's what we've got to find out. They can't kill us, anyway, andwe'll have had a good time first. You've got to pay your bills in thiswicked world. Now, then--hustle!"

"I can't!" faltered Elma, and lifted one foot over the wire arch, "Idaren't!" and stepped completely over, lifting her skirt behind her. The deed was done! A tingle of excitement ran through her veins, shereared her head and laughed aloud, looking with bright, unashamed eyesat the curtained windows. The moment of revolt had come; a moment longdesired in the depths of a meek, long-suffering heart, and prepared forby many a seething inward struggle. Cornelia had applied the match, andthe tow blazed. Elma laughed again, and seated herself beneath thetree. Cornelia had tossed her hat on the ground and clasped her handsround her knees in comfortable, inelegant position. Elma did the same, and the American girl, watching her, was at a loss to account for thereckless radiance of her smile. The sunshine flickered down between thebranches on the sweet pink and white face, the pansy blue eyes, and longslender throat; it shone alike on the ill-fitting gown, the clumsyshoes, the carelessly arranged hair. Cornelia's golden eyes travelledup and down, down and up, in earnest, scrutinising fashion. She metElma's glance with a shake of the head, forbearing, yet reproachful. 

"Say! You don't know how to prink, do you?"

"Prink?" Elma was doubtful even as to the meaning of the word. Shearched her brows in inquiry, whereat Cornelia laughed aloud. 

"You are real, genuine English! You make me think of roses, and cream, and honey, and mountain dew, and everything that's sweet and wholesome, and takes no thought of the morrow. If you lived over with us, we'd fixyou up so your own mother wouldn't know you, and there'd be paragraphsabout you in the papers every single day, saying what you did, and whatyou were wearing, and how you looked when you wore it. "

"`Miss Elma Ramsden sat on the grass, attired in a blue rag, withfreckles on her nose. '"

"My, no!" Cornelia chuckled. "They spread it pretty thick when theyonce begin. You'd have every adjective in the dictionary emptied overyou. `The irresistible Elma, ' `Radiant Miss Ramsden, ' `The beauteousEnglish Rose. ' Half the time it's only bluff, but with you it would bea true bill. You _are_ beautiful. Do you know it?"

The pink flush deepened in Elma's delicate face. 

"Am I?" she asked wistfully. "Really? Oh, I hope you are right. Ishould be so happy if it were true, but--but, I'm afraid it can't be. No one notices me; no one seems to think I am--nice! I'm only just ElmaRamsden--not radiant, nor irresistible, nor anything of the kind. PlainElma Ramsden, as much a matter of course as the trees in the park. Since you came here, in one fortnight, you've had more attention thanI've had in the whole course of my life. "

"_Attention_?" echoed Cornelia, shrilly, and rolled her eyes to thefirmament. "Attention? You ken sit there and look me in the face, andtalk about the `attention' that's been paid me the last two weeks!You're crazed! Where does the attention come in, I want to know? Ihaven't spoken to a single man since the day I arrived. You don't calla dozen old ladies clucking round _attention_, do you? Where _are_ allthe young men, anyhow? I have been used to a heap of men's society, andI'm kind of lost without it. I call attention having half a dozen niceboys to play about, and do whatever I want. Don't you ever have anynice young men to take you round?"

Elma's dissent was tinged with shocked surprise, for she had beeneducated in the theory that it was unmaidenly to think about theopposite sex. True, experience had proved that this was animpossibility, for thoughts took wing and flew where they would, anddreams grew of themselves--dreams of someone big, and strong, andtender; someone who would _understand_, and fill the void in one's heartwhich ached sometimes, and called for more, more; refusing to besatisfied with food and raiment. Sometimes the dream took a definiteshape, insisted on the possession of grey eyes and wide squareshoulders, associating itself with the personality of a certain youngsquire of racing, bridge-playing tendencies, at whom all Park dwellersglanced askance, refusing to him the honour of their hospitality!

There remained, however, certain functions at which this outlaw mustannually be encountered; functions when one was thrillingly conscious ofbeing signalled out for unusual attention. One remembered, for example, being escorted to eat ices, under the shade of an arbour of crimsonramblers; of talking with tongues about the weather, and the flowers, and the music; while grey eyes looked into blue, and said unutterablethings. Oh, the beauty of the sky seen through those rosy branches!Oh, the glory of the sun! There had never been such a summer daybefore. . .. Elma trembled at the remembrance, and then blushed at herown audacity. It was terrible to have to acknowledge such things toone's inmost heart, but to put them into words--! She pursed her lips, and looked demurely scandalised by her companion's plain speaking. 

"Do you know, Cornelia, "--she had been commanded to use the Christianname, but it still came with a certain amount of hesitation--"if I wereyou I would not talk like that before your aunt. We--we don't do itover here! It is not considered--nice--for a girl to talk about youngmen. "

Cornelia smiled slowly. Her beautiful lips curved upwards at thecorner, giving an air of impish mischief to her face. She nodded herhead three times over, and hitched a shoulder under the muslin gown. 

"We-ell?" she drawled in her most pronounced accent, "if I've got tothink of 'em, I might as well talk of 'em, and I'm _bound_ to think of'em!" She relaxed the grasp of her knees, and lay back against thetrunk of a tree, chuckling softly in retrospective triumph. "I've hadsuch heaps of fun! I just love to carry on, and have half-a-dozen boysquarrelling over me, and hustling to get the first chance. I've had asmany as ten bouquets before a ball, and I wore an eleventh, which I'dgotten for myself, and they were all clean crazed to find out who'd sentit. Poppar says I'll be an old maid yet, but it won't be for want ofasking. There's one young man who's just daft about me--he's young, andhe's lovely, and he's got ten million and a hef dollars, and I've_tried_ to love him. " She sighed despairing. "I've tried hard, but I_ken't_!"

Elm a struggled between disapproval, curiosity, and a shocking minglingof something else, which was not, could not possibly be, _envy_ of suchadventures! The lingering doubt served to add severity to herindictment. 

"It's very wicked to flirt!"

Once again Cornelia flashed her impish smile. 

"It's vurry nice! I don't see a mite of use in being young if you ken'thave some fun. You grow old fast enough, and then there's nothing elseto it but to sit round and preach. Your mother and Aunt Soph have just_got_ to preach, but I wouldn't start yet awhile if I were you. You'dbe just the prettiest thing that was ever seen if you knew how to fixyourself up, but you _don't_, and you seem to me to mope along the wholeblessed time, without a bit of fun to perk you up. Say! don't you feela bit tired of it sometimes? Don't you ever have a kind of feeling thatyou want to _do_ something for a change?"

"Sometimes! Do I ever!" Elma echoed the words with startling emphasis. "Always, always! It is here, "--she pressed her hands on herbreast--"stifled up here all the time--a horrible, rebellious longing toget out; to be free, to do--I don't know what--really I don't--butsomething _different_! I've lived in Norton all my life, and hardlyever been away. Mother hates travelling in winter, and in the summershe hates to leave the garden, and I'm so strong that I don't needchange. I never went to school like other girls. Mother disapproves ofschool influences, so I had governesses instead. It's awful to have aresident teacher in the house, and be an only pupil; you feelgovernessed out of your life. And now I have no friends to visit, or tovisit me, only the Norton girls, for whom I don't care. It seemsungrateful when I have so much to be thankful for, but I feel _pent_!Sometimes I get such a wicked feeling that I just long to snap and snarlat everybody. I'm ashamed all the time, and can _see_ how horrid I am, but--"

She broke off, sighing deeply, and Cornelia crouched forward, claspingher knees as before, and bending her chin to meet them, her eyes ashinewith eagerness and curiosity. 

"Yes, I know; I've been there myself. I was there this morning afterjust two weeks. I don't begin to have your endoorance, my dear, but youtake a straight tip from me. When you feel the symptoms coming on, don't you go trying to be sweet and forbearing, and bottling up all thefroth; it's not a mite of use, for it's bound to rise to the top, andkeeping don't improve it. Just let yourself go, and be right-down uglyto _somebody_--anyone will do, the first that comes handy--and you'llfeel a heap better!" She sighed, and turned a roguish glance towardsthe shrouded windows of The Nook. "I was ugly to Aunt Soph before Icame out!"

Already Elma had mastered the subtleties of Americanese sufficiently tounderstand that the terms "lovely" and "ugly" had no bearing on outwardappearance, but were descriptive of character only. Her eyes widened, partly in horrified surprise at listening to a doctrine so diametricallyopposed to everything which she had previously heard, and partly inpure, unadulterated curiosity to know the cause of the rebellion. 

"To Miss Briskett? Oh, how had you the courage? I should never have_dared_. What was it about?"

"Teas!" replied Cornelia, shortly. "I've attended tea-parties regularlyfor the last ten days, and met the same people every single time, andnow I've struck. I've had about enough teas to last the rest of mynatural life, but Aunt Soph seemed to think I was bound to go wherever Iwas asked. Two more old ladies sent invitations to-day. "

"I know--at lunch-time. We got ours, too. You can't refuse, Cornelia, if you haven't another engagement. "

"Can't I just? You bet I can. Besides, what's to hinder having anengagement if I want to? Say! let's fix one up right here. I'd bedelighted to have you come a drive with me to show me the country, Thursday afternoon at a quarter after four. We could hire something, Isuppose, to drive in, and find a place to have tea on the way. We'dhave a high old talk, and you'd enjoy it a heap more than the tea-party. "

"Oh, I know that, but I don't know if I ought, --Mrs Nevins' invitationcame first. "

"Shucks!" cried Cornelia, "you've got too much conscience--that's what'sthe matter with you. You'll never have much of a time in this world ifyou don't take the pick of a choice. What's two hours, anyway? You goright home, and write nice and pretty to say you're real sorry you'vegot another engagement. Your mother can trot along with Aunt Soph. They'll enjoy themselves a heap better sitting round without us, talkingover the perversities of the young. They were all tame angels when theywere girls, and never did anything they ought not to have done. My!"She twisted her saucy nose, and rolled her eyes heavenwards. "I'mthankful I struck a livelier time! As for you, Elma Ramsden, you'regoing to be equal to any one of them, if nothing happens to shake youup. I guess it's my mission to do the shaking, so we'll start fair fromnow on. You're engaged to me Thursday afternoon. D'you understand? Iguess we'd better go home and break the news before the answers arewritten. "

She rose to her feet, and Elma followed her example, shaking her skirtsand fastening on the shady mushroom hat. No further protestations roseto her lips, so it might be taken for granted that silence gave consent, but half-way down the path she spoke again, in tentative, hesitatingfashion. 

"I don't mind about Mrs Nevins. She is rich and strong, and enjoys herlife; but Miss Nesbitt is different. She's an old maid, and poor. Shebelongs to a good family, so she is asked out with the rest, but shehardly ever gives a tea--not once in a year. It will be a great eventto her; she'll be beginning to make preparations even now; baking cakes, and cleaning the silver, and taking off the covers of the drawing-roomchairs. It is all in your honour. She'll be disappointed if you don'tgo. "

Cornelia turned upon her with a flash of reproof. "Why couldn't youtell me that before, I want to know? Pretty mean I should have felt, backing out of a thing like that! I wouldn't disappoint the old dearfor a fortune. Is it the one with the flat hair, and the littleringlets dangling at the sides? They are too 'cute for anything, thoseringlets. Yes! I guessed she was the one, for I noticed her clotheslooked all used up. Don't you worry! I'll take tea with Miss Nesbittas often as she wants, and behave so pretty you'll admire to see me. That's an olive branch to carry in to Aunt Soph--eh? I reckon she'll bepretty dusty. "

"I reckon she will. " Elma glanced with a half-fearful smile at hercompanion's unruffled face. "I wouldn't be in your shoes for a hundredpounds. Miss Briskett is formidable enough when she is pleased; butwhen she is angry--! Cornelia, aren't you frightened?"

Cornelia's joyous peal of laughter floated away on the air, and caughtthe ears of the industrious Morris, who was sweeping the path a hundredyards away. He turned to lean on his brush and stare, while Elmaglanced nervously at the curtained windows. 

"I never was scared in my life that I know of, and I'm not going tobegin with my very own aunt. I rather like a fizzle now and then--itfreshens one up. Don't you worry about me! I'm quite able to stand upfor myself. "

She pushed open the gate of The Nook as she spoke and sauntered up thepath; laughing, bareheaded, radiantly unashamed. Miss Briskett beheldher approach from her seat in the corner of the drawing-room, and twospots of colour shone dully on her thin cheek bones. The hands whichheld her knitting trembled with indignation, and her eyes welcomed theculprit with a steely flash. 

"Cornelia, are you aware that you are forbidden to trespass on the grassof this park?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"You are also aware, I presume, that to wander alone bareheaded is notthe habit of young ladies in this neighbourhood, and that it isintensely annoying to me that you should do so?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"You _do_ know! You are not ashamed to acknowledge it! Then may Iinquire why you have deliberately chosen to do what you know to bewrong?"

Cornelia drew up a comfortable chair and seated herself by her aunt'sside, arranging her draperies with a succession of little pulls andpats. She rested one elbow on the arm of the chair, and leant her chinupon the upraised palm, a pretty, thoughtful-looking pose into which shefell naturally in leisure moments. The cat blinked at her throughsleepy eyelids, then, deliberately ignoring the devotion of years, rosefrom its place by its mistress's side, stretched itself with felinegrace, and stalked majestically across the rug to nestle against thesoft white skirts. Miss Briskett eyed its desertion over the brim ofher spectacles. Poor lady! her measure of love received was so small, that she felt a distinct pang at the defection. 

"What explanation have you to offer, Cornelia? You knew that you wouldannoy me?"

"Why, yes, of course. That's all there was to it! It didn't thrill mea mite to walk over a strip of lawn, without figging up in my best duds. I can do that any day I want at home, but I just _had_ to raise Cainsomehow! It's the only way I ken pull round again when I get mad. Ijust go right away and do the ugliest thing I can strike, and then Ifeel all soothed, and calmed down. You try it yourself, next time; itbeats knitting stockings all into fits! I'm just as sweet as candy now, so you've got to forgive me, and be friends. I'm sorry I acted so mean, but you were pretty nippy yourself, weren't you now? I guess we've bothbeen used to take our own way without any fluster, and it comes prettyhard to be crossed, but now we've had our fling, we've got to kiss andmake friends. That's so; isn't it?"

She bent forward, pouting her lips to receive the token of peace, butMiss Briskett drew back in chilly dignity. For the past hour she hadnourished a smouldering resentment, feeling herself the most ill-used ofwomenkind, and this calm inclusion of herself in the list of wrong-doersdid not tend to pour oil on the troubled waters. For Cornelia toacknowledge her deliberate intention to offend, and in the same breathto offer a kiss of reconciliation, showed a reprehensible lack of properfeeling. Miss Briskett was a woman of high principles, and made a pointof forgiving her enemies--slowly! As a preliminary process she demandedan abject apology, and a period of waiting, during which the culprit wasexpected to be devoured by remorse and anxiety. Then, bending from animpeccable height, she vouchsafed a mitigated pardon. "I forgive you, but I can never forget!" Some such absolution she would have been readyto bestow upon a tearful and dejected Cornelia, but the pink and whitecomplaisance of the uplifted face steeled her heart afresh. She shrankback in her chair, ignoring the outstretched hand. 

"Excuse me, my dear, but I do not care to kiss a person who has justacknowledged that she has deliberately tried to annoy me. I wasnaturally displeased at your rejection of my friend's hospitality, butit is exceedingly impertinent to compare my behaviour to your own. Youseem to forget that I am your hostess, and nearly three times your age. "

"Then you ought to be three times better, oughtn't you?" retortedCornelia, blandly. "Well, I'll own up that I'm sorry about MissNesbitt, and I'll be pleased to take tea with her as often as she likes, but I regret that a previous engagement prevents my going Thursday also. You tell the old lady from me that I'm real sorry to miss the treat, and if it will ease her mind any to know that I don't think England's apatch on America, she's welcome to the information. Elma Ramsden and Ihave fixed up a drive to see the country, Thursday afternoon. "

Miss Briskett's knitting-needles clinked irritably together. A halfconcession was little better than none, and the frivolous tone ofCornelia's remarks spoke of something far removed from the idealrepentance. Apart from the question of the tea-party, she disapprovedof two young girls driving about the country unattended, but her courageshrank from the thought of another battle. She dropped her eyelids, andreplied icily--

"As you have already made your arrangements it is useless for me tooffer any objections. You are evidently determined to take your own wayin spite of anything I can say. I can only trust that no harm may comeof the experiment. "

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

On Thursday afternoon at three o'clock Cornelia retired to her bedroom, and with the help of the devoted Mary proceeded to make an elaboratetoilette for the drive. Those wonderful trunks seemed to containgarments suitable for every possible occasion which could arise; forevery fluctuation of weather, for every degree of festivity. From oneof the number out came a long driving coat, snowy white, light oftexture, an ideal garment for a warm yet dusty summer's day, which beingfastened down the side by huge pearl buttons, displayed a degree ofsmartness nothing short of uncanny in an untrimmed garment. To wearwith the coat there was a jaunty cap, and a pair of driving gloves withwide, gauntleted cuffs. Cornelia made faces at herself in the glass asher custom was the while she arranged the "set" of her hat, puffed outher shaded locks, and affably cross-questioned her attendant on herprivate affairs. 

"Mury, how's your friend?"

"He isn't so well as he was, miss, thank you all the same. He's been abit upset in his indigestion. "

"Think of that now! Isn't that sad! You buy him a bottle of physic andsend it along. I'll pay! It's not a mite of use having a friend withindigestion. He'll be just as doleful, and you want him to give you areal good time. . .. How's your mother getting along?"

"Nicely, thank you, miss. She said she didn't know how to thank youenough for the shawl. Her poor old bones haven't ached half so muchsince she's had it to hap round her of a night. "

"Isn't that sweet! Hustle up now with my high shoes, and don't mindbuttoning in bits of flesh as you did last time. I'd just as lief beleft out. See here, Mury, I want everything put back in its place afterI'm gone! I hate to find a muss when I get back, and that blue muslinhas got to be pressed out for to-night, and those bits of lace washed, and the parcels changed at the shop. Mind, it's got to be all done bythe time I am back. And see here, next time you go out to meet yourfriend, there's that taffetas waist you can have for yourself! You'lllook dandy in it, and he'll be so proud. Maybe it will help theindigestion better than physic. "

Mary was incoherent with delight, and promised ardently to execute allthe young lady's orders, knowing full well that it was the silverafternoon, and that her time should of rights be fully occupied withhousehold duties. She promised, and she intended to perform. By dintof smiles, pleasant words, kindly interests in "friends, " and ceaselessdoles of finery and physic, Cornelia had established such a hold uponthe affections of the staff, that her wish already took precedent of heraunt's law. Mary mentally condemned half the contents of the silvercupboard to neglect, the while she ironed out foaming frills andfloating sash ends. 

Mrs Ramsden accompanied Elma to the gate of The Nook, and stood besideMiss Briskett looking on with dubious eyes, while the two girls tooktheir places in the high dog-cart. A groom had driven the horse fromthe livery stable, and both good ladies expected him to take possessionof the back seat, in the double capacity of chaperon and guide. Itcame, therefore, as a shock, when Cornelia dismissed the man with asmile, and a rain of silver dropped into an eager hand, butprotestations, feeble and stern, were alike disregarded. 

"How do you suppose we are going to talk, with him perched there, withhis ears sticking out, listening to every word we say? We don't wantany men poking round, this journey!" laughed Cornelia, settling herselfin her seat, and taking the reins in her gauntleted hands. MissBriskett was dismayed to feel a thrill of pride mingling with herdispleasure, for the girl looked so fresh, so trim, so sparklingly aliveperched up on her high driving seat. Elma Ramsden, for all her superiorbeauty, looked tame and insignificant beside her. Although she wouldnot condescend to look around, Miss Briskett divined that behind thecurtains of the neighbouring houses the occupants were looking on withadmiring curiosity, and noting every detail of the girl's attire. IfCornelia were self-willed and defiant, in appearance at least she was aworthy representative of her race. The stern lines of the spinster'smouth relaxed into an unwilling smile as she said urgently--

"But, my dear, the horse! I am responsible for your safety. Are youquite sure that you are capable of managing him?"

Cornelia's ripple of amusement was sufficiently expressive. "One oldmare in a hired trap, when I've driven a four-in-hand over some of thewickedest roads in America! If we are smashed, Aunt Soph, you can layit to providence, and not to my driving. Don't get to worrying if weare late. If we're killed you'll hear all about it soon enough. Youcan only die once, and a carriage spill is a good slick way of gettingit over. "

"Cornelia, I insist--"

"Miss Cornelia, I beg--"

The cart dashed suddenly onward in response to a flip of the whip, leaving the two old ladies upon the roadway, the unfinished appealfrozen upon their lips. Elma turned round to wave an abashed adieu, thelong habit of servitude struggling with a delicious new sense of libertyand adventure. 

"Oh--oh, Cornelia, if you could only _see_ them! They are standingstock-still, staring after us. They look petrified! . .. It _was_naughty of you. You frightened your aunt on purpose. "

"That's so!" assented Cornelia, frankly. "I meant to do it. It's goingto hurt me a lot more than it does her, as the mommar said when shespanked the nipper, but she's got just as set as a fossil, paddlingalong in this little backwater, and imagining it's the whole big ocean, and there's no one on hand to rouse her but myself. It's my mission. Wake up, England!" and she flourished her whip dramatically as the maretrotted through the south gateway of the park. 

Outside the gate lay a smooth wide road stretching uphill, and inresponse to a movement of Elma's outstretched hand, Cornelia turned themare in this direction, flashing a radiant smile into the pink-and-whiteface. 

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How do you feel?"

"Excited!--As if something were going to happen!"

Cornelia nodded sagely. 

"Perhaps it is; there's no saying. I've seen horses I'd sooner trust ina scrimmage, but a little spill would do you no harm. You're skeery asa cat. You want nerve, my dear, nerve!" Cornelia flicked her whipround the horse's ears to give emphasis to her words, and chuckled withmischievous amusement as Elma clutched the seat, and gasped in dismay. 

"I call this crawling, not driving. When we get out into the realcountry I'll make her go, so we get some fresh air into our lungs, thenyou can hold on if you like, but don't pay before the show begins. Now, then--where are we bound?"

Elma cast down her eyes, faintly blushing beneath her hat. Surely therewas something infectiously electric in the air this afternoon, or whyshould her thoughts fly as an arrow from the bow to just that very spotwhich it should have been her maidenly duty to avoid? She blushed ather own audacity; telling herself sternly that she ought to be ashamed;held the temptation afar off, looking at it, longing after it, regretfully deciding to cast it aside, then with a sudden impetuouschange of front, hugged it to her breast. Yes, she would! For oneafternoon, one golden, glorious afternoon, she would send prudence tothe winds, and follow her own instincts. After all, why not? Because acertain person happened to be squire of a certain district it did notfollow that other people could not drive over his land without beingsuspected of personal designs. It was to the last degree unlikely thatone would happen to meet anyone one knew, but if one _did_--Elmaacknowledged to herself that a lift of the hat, a glance of pleasedrecognition, would remain in memory as the pleasantest episode of theafternoon. 

As a palliative to her conscience, Elma suggested a farther village asthe termination to the drive, directing the course with a thrill ofguilty triumph at each fresh turning. 

"Ain't this dandy!" cried Cornelia, preening her little head, andshowing her white teeth in a smile of delight. "This England of yoursis just a 'cute little garden, with the roads rolled out like gravelpaths. You'd stare to see the roads about my home. Over here it's allgrass and roses. You are a rose, too--a real, sweet garden rose, withthe dewdrops on its leaves. If I were an artist I'd paint a picture ofyou on one panel, and Aunt Soph on the other, as two types of Englishlife, and the people could look on, and learn a lesson. It's kindersweet and touching to dream along so long as you're young, but if you goon keeping your eyes shut, it don't pan out well in old age. It's bestto have 'em wide open, and realise that there are two or three morepeople in the world beside yourself. "

Elma smiled in vague, preoccupied fashion. Her own thoughts were allengrossing, and at every fresh winding of the road she held her breathin suspense, while the wild rose colour deepened in her cheeks. Suppose--suppose they met him! How would he look? What would he do?What would he think? Even the compliment to herself faded intoinsignificance beside such questions as these. 

The mare was trotting briskly along a high level road, on the right sideof which lay the boundary wall of a large estate--_the_ estate, everyinch of which was thrilling with interest to one onlooker, at least; tothe right a bank of grass sloped gradually to a lower road, beneathwhich again could be seen a wide-stretched panorama of country. Cornelia slackened the reins, and gave herself up to the enjoyment ofthe moment. 

Up to now decorous toddles to and fro the outlying villas had been heronly form of exercise, and she was amazed and delighted with the verdantbeauty of the scene. As Elma did not seem inclined for conversation shemade no further remark, and for the next quarter of an hour the twogirls drove onward in silence, each happy in her own thoughts, in thesunshine, in the sweet, balmy air, fragrant with the scent of theflowering trees. Then of a sudden one of the lodges of the park cameinto view, and on the roadside beside the door a dazzling golden object, at sight of which Cornelia puckered puzzled brows. 

"What in the land's name is that? The sun dazzles so that I can't see. "

"It's a--a cage, I think! I see something like bars. "

"What fool-trick are they up to, then, putting a gilt cage on the highroad in the blazing sunshine? They might use the sense they were bornwith. Steady, old lady, steady!" cried Cornelia, soothingly, as themare pricked up her ears and shied uneasily to the farther side of theroad. "Yes, it's a cage right enough, and a poll parrot inside. GuessI'll pull up at that house, and tell the inmates that it looks for allthe world like a blazing firework on the side of the path; enough toscare any horse in creation. This old lady is as nervous as a cat!"

The fact was painfully apparent even to Elma's inexperience, for themare, refusing to be soothed by Cornelia's cajoling words and chuckles, shied still nearer the opposite hedge, her ears cocked nervously erect. Seen nearer at hand, and out of the direct dazzle of sunlight, the cagelooked innocent enough with its grey inmate swinging solemnly to and froon its perch, but as the cart swung rapidly past, Mistress Pollevidently felt that it was time to assert herself, and opened her mouthto emit a shrill, raucous cry, at the sound of which the mare boundedforward in a headlong gallop. 

"I knew it!" cried Cornelia, shortly. "I just guessed that had to comenext. " She sat bolt upright, twisting the reins round her fingers, herlips pressed into a thin red line, her eyes ashine with an excitement inwhich was more than a spice of enjoyment. She shook herself impatientlyfree from Elma's frenzied grasp. "Now, then, none of that! You leavemy arms alone. I'll need all my strength before we're through with thistrouble. My stars and stripes, how she does pull. "

"Oh, oh, Cornelia! What shall we do? What shall we do? Shall we bethrown? What's going to happen? _Cornelia_?"

Not by a fraction of an inch did Cornelia turn her head in answer tothis frenzied appeal. Upright as a dart she sat in her seat, herslender wrists straining at the reins. 

"Don't yelp!" she said shortly. "Keep that till you're hurt. Say! whathappens to the road after the next turn?"

"I don't know. . .. Oh, what shall we do? Why did we ever come? . .. Cornelia, can you hold her back?" . .. 

"No!" snapped Cornelia, shortly. "I can't!--Not for many minuteslonger, at this rate. My wrists are about broken as it is. Whathappens after this turning, I say? You must know. Use your brains, forgoodness' sake--if you want any left to use another day. Is it a goodroad--better than this? What's on the sides--hedgerows, walls, water?For the land's sake, child, sort your ideas!"

Thus admonished, Elma made a violent effort to pull herself together. For reasons already mentioned, this particular bit of country wasclearly imprinted on her memory, and she had but to collect herscattered wits to see a clear picture of the path ahead. 

"The road is quite good. There is a wall--two walls. Some farmbuildings on the right. At the end there is a hill; it leads down intothe next village. "

"Humph!" Cornelia's nostrils dilated widely, and two spots of pinkshowed on her white cheeks. "Then I guess this is the end of thevolume. A grass bank is better than a wall any day of the week. . .. Now then, young woman, if you've got any grit stowed away, get it out, and use it. _It's coming_! Are you ready?"

"No, no!" shrieked Elma, wildly. She clutched the seat with despairinghands, as with a sudden convulsive movement Cornelia switched the mareviolently to the right. "Help, help! Oh, help--"

The bank rose before her eyes in a sudden mountainous sweep; the mare, instead of being in front, soared suddenly on the top of the trap; thehinges creaked and strained; and the seat assumed a perpendicularposition. It was all over in a couple of minutes, but to Elma it seemedas many hours. She had time to hear the rush of approaching footsteps, to see over the top of the hedge three startled masculine faces; torecognise the nearer of the three with a great throb of relief, and tostretch out her arms towards him with a shrill cry of appeal--then thecrash came, and she was shot headlong into space. 

Fireworks! that was the first impression. Little dots of flame flittingabout before her eyes, forming into circles of light and whizzingrapidly round and round. Then when her eyes were open, a heavy confusedstupor, in which she saw, but refused to understand. Why was she lyingon the grass in the middle of the day? Why did Cornelia look so queer, with her face stained with soil, and her hat on one side? Why did theyoffer her things to drink? She wasn't thirsty; the tea was bad; itstung her mouth. It wasn't tea at all, but something hot and nasty. Itwas brandy out of a flask! Elma lifted big, lovely eyes of a pansyblue, and stared vacantly into the face by her side, but at the sight ofit memory came back in a rush. She sat up stiffly, moving her limbs innervous, tentative fashion--gasped, sighed, and quavered out atremulous--

"What happened? Is it all over? Are we saved?"

Cornelia loomed above her, alert even in this moment of shock anddishevelment. One cheek was plastered with soil; patches of green staindiscoloured her coat, her hair hung rakishly askew, yet never had hermanner been more composed nor complacently matter of fact. 

"We've had a pretty lucky let-off. You are alive all right, and I guessthere's not much the matter with you but nerves. There's nothing wrongwith your lungs, anyway. You scared the mare pretty near as much as thebird--yelping like a crazed thing, and hanging on to my arm. The grassis soft enough. It hasn't hurt you any. You needn't worry feeling allover to see if there's a break. You'd know it fast enough if therewere. "

"Miss Ramsden is feeling stunned. I think it would be wiser to allowher to recover gradually. It is a shock to--er--to most systems, to beshot out of a cart, however short the distance!"

The masculine voice was thunderous with indignation, and the arm whichsupported Elma's back tightened its hold, as if to protect her againstthe world. Cornelia turned aside, her red lips twisted into a smile, and walked along the bank to where the other two men were unharnessingthe mare, which lay on her side trembling with fright, the blood oozingfrom several ugly-looking cuts and scratches. As Cornelia walked sheheld her right wrist tightly with her left hand, as if she still feltthe strain of that wrestle with the reins, but there was no flinching invoice or manner as she stood over the men, issuing instructions inbrisk, incisive tones. The nearer of the two was impressed to theextent of ceasing work to touch his cap; the second darted onecontemptuous glance in her direction, and placidly continued to disobey. Cornelia promptly knelt on the grass by his side, with intent todemonstrate her own greater efficiency, but the first movement of thestrained wrist brought a flush of pain to her cheeks. She sat back, pursing her lips together to restrain an involuntary groan, while thestranger flashed a second look in her direction. He was a tall, lean, somewhat cadaverous--looking man, with steel-like eyes shaded by haughtyeyelids, perpetually adroop as though no object on earth were worthy ofhis regard. Cornelia took him in in a swift, comprehensive glance, andwith youthful ardour decided that she loathed the creature. 

"Hurt yourself?"

"Not a bit, thanks. I guess there's enough of you to do the workwithout me, but I'm used to seeing things done in a hurry, and youseemed pretty deliberate--"

"A little caution is not thrown away sometimes. What induced you tocome out driving alone if you could not manage a horse?"

There being no reply to this question, and the last buckle of theharness being unstrapped, the speaker turned an inquiring glance overhis shoulder, to behold a rigid figure and a face ablaze withindignation. 

There was something in the girl's face at that moment so vital, sobizarre and arresting, that so long as Rupert Guest lived, it remainedwith him as one of the most striking pictures in his mental picture-gallery. He had but to pass a high green hedge in the June sunshine, tocatch the fragrance of the honeysuckle and roses, and it rose up beforehim again--the white, furious face, with the red, roughened locks, andthe gleam of white teeth through the scarlet lips. There was noadmiration in his thoughts; this was not at all the type of girl whom headmired, but she was a being by herself, different from anyone whom hehad met. He stared at her with curious attention. 

"Do you mean, " said Cornelia, in the slow, even tones of intense anger, "that you think this was my doing--that I upset the cart by my baddriving? If that's so, you are a little out in your reckoning. If Ihadn't been used to horses all my days we might have been in kingdomcome by this time. I _pulled_ her into the bank before worse thingshappened!"

"Then what sent her off in the first instance?"

"A poll parrot, screeching in its cage, set right out in the roadway bysome fool owner, who ought to be had up for murder. "

The stranger pursed up his lips in an expressive whistle, then suddenlysprang upwards as the mare, freed from her harness, rolled on her sideand struggled to her feet, where she stood shivering and tossing herhead, displaying fresh cuts and bruises in her dusty coat. The labourerput his hand on her neck, soothing her with gentle words and touches, while his master surveyed her with kindly concern. 

"Poor brute! Better take her to the stables, James, and send off for avet. Mrs Greville can no doubt spare a carriage to take these ladieshome. " He turned towards Cornelia with an impulse of provocation whichseemed to spring from some source outside himself. As a rule he waschivalrous where women were concerned, but there was something in thepersonality of this girl which aroused his antagonism. It seemed almosta personal offence that she should be so alert and composed while themare bled and trembled, and that pale, lovely thing lay like a brokensnowdrop on the bank. He felt a growing desire to annoy, to wound, tobreak down this armour of complacent vanity. 

"So you could not hold her till she tired herself out? Well! theexperiment seems to have answered less successfully from her point ofview than your own. She'll need a considerable time to recover hernerves and give these scratches time to heal. "

"Skin deep!" sneered Cornelia, with a curl of the lip. "I'll drive herback in a day or two; and up and down this road until she learns not toplay that trick again. I've never given in to a horse yet, and I'm notgoing to begin with a hack mare!"

The stranger eyed her with cold disapproval. 

"Perhaps her owner may refuse to allow her to be experimented uponagain. I should, in his place! It may be foolish, but I hate to see abrute suffer, even for the noble purpose of proving my own superiority. "

He swung away as he spoke, thus failing to see the stunned blankness ofCornelia's expression. Straight as a dart she stood, with head thrownback, scarlet lips pressed tightly together, and dark brows knittedabove the wounded tragedy of her eyes. The labourer standing by themare's side looked towards her with honest sympathy. He had hadpersonal experience of the "length of the Captain's tongue, " and wascorrespondingly sympathetic towards another sufferer. A tender of dumbanimals, he was quick to understand the expression on the girl's face, and to know that she had been wrongfully accused. 

"Don't you take on, miss!" he said, touching his cap with the unashamedservility at which the American girl never ceased to wonder. "I'll lookafter her meself, and if the dirt is washed out of the sores at once, she'll come to no harm. Likely as not there'll be nothing for the vetto do by the time he arrives. At the worst it'll be only a fewstitches. She'll soon get over that. "

Cornelia shivered, and bit hard on her lower lip. She slipped her handinto an inside pocket of the white coat, and, coming a step nearer, dropped a coin into the man's hand. He cast down his eyes, started, andflushed a deep red. 

"Thank you, miss. Beg pardon, but you've made a mistake!"

A sovereign lay brightly on his grimy palm; he stared at it withrespectful awe, scarcely regretful, since it did not enter his mind toconceive that such a munificent gift could seriously have been offeredfor his acceptance. It had seldom happened that he had had the handlingof such a fortune, since his whole weekly earnings reached a total ofeighteen shillings, but Cornelia in her turn looked abashed anddiscomfited, thrusting her hand once again into the tightly-buttonedlittle pocket. 

"I'm sorry! I ken't get used to your money over here. Will that makeit enough?"

To the man's utter stupefaction she placed a second sovereign beside thefirst in his outstretched palm. He stared at it with distended eyes, thrilled by the discovery that she _had_ meant it after all, awed by therevelation of such munificence. 

"Beg pardon, miss, I was thinking as you'd mistook it for a shilling, not making so bold as to complain. I thank your ladyship kindly! I'msure I can't rightly say what I ought--"

He stuttered, incoherent with excitement, but even as he spoke he heldout the second sovereign, and Cornelia understood that his good feelingpermitted him to accept only what had been originally offered. Shewould have felt the same in his place, and realising as much, took backthe coin without a demur. 

"Well! it's waiting for you next time I come, if you've done your dutyby that mare. "

She turned, and walked slowly back to where the two men were standingtalking together, some eight or ten yards away. Their backs were turnedtowards her, and her assailant of a few minutes past was evidentlyanswering an appeal from his friend. She caught the last words as shedrew near: "I will go to the stable and look after the mare. . .. Youcan take them up to the house without my help. I can't stand any moreof that girl--"

He wheeled round as he spoke, and found himself face to face withCornelia. They stared each other full in the eyes, like two combatantsmeasuring strength before a battle. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

To Elma it was still a dream, but a dream growing momentarily morewonderful and thrilling. The stupor in her head was passing away, andthere was nothing painful in the lassitude which remained. She was justweak and languid, content to lie still in the sunshine, her head restingon one of the cushions from the overturned cart, her eyes turninginstinctively to the bronzed face which bent over her with such tendersolicitude. 

As for Geoffrey Greville, he was realising with a curious mingling ofdismay and elation that the moment was fated to be historic in the storyof his life. For the last two years he had been haunted by the visionof Elma Ramsden's flower-like face at odd, but by no means inconsequent, moments. When, for instance, his mother expatiated on the duty ofmarriage for a man in his position, and extolled the fascinations ofcertain youthful members of county society; when he walked down the longpicture-gallery, and regarded the space on the wall where his wife'sportrait might some day hang beside his own; when he sat at the head ofhis table, and looked across at the opposite space; why was it that insuch moments as these the face of this one girl flashed forward, andpersistently blocked the way? Elma Ramsden!--just a little, insignificant girl, whom he had met at half a dozen garden parties, andat homes. She did not even belong to the county set, but was thedaughter of a funny, dumpy little mother, who disapproved on principleof everything smart and up-to-date--himself emphatically included. Thegood lady evidently regarded him as a wicked, fox-like creature, whosesociety was fraught with danger to her tender bantling. He had seen herclucking with agitation as he had sat with Elma beneath the trees. 

Mrs Greville had a calling acquaintance with the Park ladies, andoccasionally referred with a blighting toleration to "Goody Ramsden, "but she never by any chance mentioned Mrs Ramsden's daughter. Geoffreywas doubtful whether she realised the fact of Elma's existence. Up tillnow he himself had drifted along in the easy-going manner of bachelorsapproaching their thirtieth birthday before the crucial moment arriveswhich acts as a spark to smouldering flames. He had indulged in lazyday-dreams in which Elma played the part of heroine; had thoroughlyenjoyed her society when fate placed her in his way, without, however, exerting himself to take any active steps to secure additional meetings. This afternoon as he walked across the meadow with his friend, he wouldhave indignantly denied the accusation that he was in love, but thehistoric moment was at hand. A cry for help rang in his ears; above thehedge he caught a glimpse of a white, frenzied face, and saw two handsheld out towards him in appeal. 

The anguished grip of the heart with which he realised at once Elma'sidentity, and her peril, was a revelation of his own feelings whichcould not be reasoned away. As he knelt by her side in those firstanxious moments he was perhaps almost as much stunned as herself, for inthe flash of an eye his whole life had altered. Where he had doubted, he was now convinced; where he had frivoled, he was in deep, intenseearnest; the fact that there would be certain difficulties to overcomeonly seemed to strengthen the inward determination. If Elma wouldaccept him, she should be his wife though the whole world were againstthem!

And Elma lay and looked at him with her dazed, lovely eyes, allowing himto arrange the cushions under her head with a simple acquiescence whichseemed to him the sweetest thing in the world. Now that the first dreadwas relieved, he felt a guilty satisfaction in the knowledge of herprostration, and of the damage done to horse and cart. It wasimpossible that she could drive back to Norton without some hours' rest, and a special providence seemed to have arranged that the accidentshould take place close to his own gates. He was too much engrossed inhis own interests to notice the look which was exchanged between hisfriend and Cornelia, and as the Captain turned, away discomfited, Geoffrey eagerly addressing his remarks to the girl herself. 

"I want to get Miss Ramsden up to the house. She must rest and belooked after, and my mother will be delighted--I mean, she'd be awfullydistressed if you didn't come. It's not far--only a few hundred yardsup the avenue. I could carry her easily if she can't manage to walk. "

But at that Elma sat up, a spot of colour shining on her white cheeks. 

"Ah, but I can; I'm better! I'm really quite well. But it's giving somuch trouble. I could wait in the lodge. .. "

"Indeed you couldn't; I wouldn't allow it! There's no accommodationthere, and the children would annoy you. Take my arm and lean on me. Miss--er--your friend will support you on the other side. "

"Briskett!" volunteered Cornelia, bowing towards him in graciousacknowledgment. "Now then, Elma, up with you! Guess you're about sickof that bank by this time. There's nothing to it but nerves, and thatwon't prevent you walking with a prospect of tea ahead. You're not halfas bad as you think you are. "

Elma thought she was a good deal worse! The sudden rise to her feet, drawn by two strong hands, brought with it a return of the faintness, and for a moment it seemed as if Geoffrey would have to carry out hisfirst proposition. She struggled bravely, however, and Corneliaforcibly ducked her head forward--a sensible, though on the face of it, rather a callous remedy, of which Geoffrey plainly disapproved. He drewthe little hand through his arm, pressing it close to his side, and thuslinked together the three made their way to the lodge-gate and up thewinding avenue. 

As they went Cornelia kept casting quick, scrutinising glances at hercompanions, her brain busily at work trying to place this stranger, whose name had never been mentioned in her hearing, but who yet appearedto take such a deep interest in Elma's welfare. Once, with a sigh, thegirl had regretted that her mother disapproved of "some of the nicestpeople in the neighbourhood. " Was Geoffrey Greville to be regarded asrepresenting that vague quantity? Again, with a second sigh, Elma hadconfessed that the county people on their side showed no desire tocultivate her own acquaintance. This afternoon, with a blush, she hadmaintained that the best road lay through Steadway, though a signpostpersistently pointed in another direction. Two sighs, and a blush! Inthe court of love such evidence is weighty, while of still greaterimport was the manner in which Elma clung for support to the arm on theright, leaving only the gentlest pressure on that to the left. 

As for the man himself, there could be no doubt that he had reached thestage of entire subjugation. His whole bearing was instinct withpossessive pride, his strong, bronzed features softened into a beautifultenderness as he watched the flickering colour in Elma's cheeks, andsmiled encouragement into her eyes. He had a good face; a triflearrogant and self-satisfied, no doubt, but these were failings whichwould be mitigated by the power of an honest love. For the rest, helooked strong, and brave, and true. Cornelia's frown gave way to asmile of approval. 

"I guess it's just about as 'cute a little romance as you can read for adollar, and just as English! Her mommar don't approve of him, 'causehe's smart and worldly; and _his_ mommar don't approve of _her_, 'causeshe lives in a row, and don't mix with the tip-top set. She sits stilland mopes, and he sets to and kills the first thing that comes handy, todistract his thoughts, and they're going to stick right there till thedoor's closed, and the lamps give out. This is where _you_ step in, Cornelia Briskett! You've got to waltz round and fix up this businesswhile you've a chance. --I guess I've been a bit too bracing. I'd betterbegin to feel a bit scared about Elma's health. . .. Seems to me she'shad a pretty bad shock and wants to settle right in, and not riskanother move for the next three or four days!" . .. 

The scarlet lips twisted whimsically, and a dimple dipped in the whitecheek. If there was one thing Cornelia loved above another, it was tofeel herself a kind of _Deus ex machina_, and she experienced amalicious satisfaction in ranging herself on the side of the lovers, inthe battle between youth and age. 

Presently a curve in the road brought the house into view, and the sightof its mullioned windows and old grey stone gables brought with it asudden remembrance of her own dishevelled condition. The disengagedhand darted up to her head to set the cap at the correct angle, and fromthence continued a patting, smoothing-out excursion, productive ofdistinctly smartening results. Fortunately the long coat had shelteredthe dress from harm, so that on reaching the house she could shed it andlook "just so. " As for Elma, it was a comfort to see her a little"mussed, " for in her conscientious adherence to order she sacrificedmuch of the picturesque nature of her beauty. 

The great oak door stood hospitably open. At the inner glass door anold butler appeared, and was immediately despatched by the Squire tofind his mistress, and inform her that her son had brought home twoladies who had experienced a carriage accident at the gates. MeantimeGeoffrey led the way into the drawing-room, and while Elma restedthankfully against the cushions on her chair, Cornelia enjoyed her firstview of a room in a typical English country house. It fascinated her byits very difference from the gorgeous apartments which took its place inher own country. Space, daintiness, simplicity--these were the firstimpressions. Long French windows standing open to a velvet stretch oflawn; deep chairs and couches covered with chintz; pale green walls andthe fragrance of many flowers. A closer inspection showed the intrinsicvalue and beauty of each detail which went to make up the charmingwhole. Sheraton cabinets holding specimens of rare old china; ivoryminiatures of Grevilles, dead and gone, simpering in pink-and-whitebeauty in the velvet cases on the walls; water-colours signed by world-famed artists; wonderful old sconces holding altar-like lines ofcandles; everywhere the eye turned, something beautiful, rare andinteresting, and through it all an unobtrusive good taste, which placedthe most precious articles in quiet corners, and filled the foregroundwith a bower of flowers. 

"It's just--gaudy!" said Cornelia to herself, using her favouritesuperlative with sublime disregard of suitability. She looked acrossthe room to where Elma sat, resting her head against a brocaded bluecushion. One of the half-dozen cases of miniatures hung just behind thechair, and it was impossible not to notice the likeness between theliving face and those portrayed on the ivory backgrounds. Actualsimilarity of feature might not exist, but the delicate colouring, thefine lines of the features, the loosened cloud of hair, made theresemblance striking enough. If some day Elma's own miniature should beadded to the number, it would fully sustain the reputation for thebeauty so long enjoyed by the women of the house. 

Coming back from the voyage of comparison, Cornelia's eyes met those ofthe Squire fixed upon her in a questioning fashion. He averted theminstantly, but all his determination could not restrain the mantlingblush which dyed his cheek, and she had little doubt that his ownthoughts had been a duplicate of her own. Before the silence wasbroken, however, the door opened, and Mrs Greville entered the room. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

It was Mrs Greville's pleasure to be addressed as "Madame" by themembers of her household, and the name had spread until it was nowadopted as a sobriquet by the entire neighbourhood. The tradesmeninstructed their underlings to pay implicit attention to "Madame's"orders; the townsfolk discussed "Madame's" clothes and manner, alternately aggrieved and elated, as she smiled upon them, or staredthem haughtily in the face. Her friends adopted it for ease, and MrsGreville herself was well pleased that it should be so. She would havedisdained a cheap title, but it seemed fitting that she should be knownby a more distinguished and exclusive designation than the vulgar"Mrs", which was equally the property of the meanest of her dependants. She was a graceful woman, with a narrow face, aquiline features, and asociety smile. She dressed perfectly, in soft satins and brocades; notblack, but of rich, subdued colours, softened by fichus of lace, whileher wonderfully silky white hair was dressed in the latest and mostelaborate fashion. To-day, her dress was of a dull heliotrope, a bunchof Parma violets was fastened in the folds of the fichu at the breast, ruffles of old point d'Alencon lace fell back from her wrists, and asshe moved there came the glint of diamonds, discreetly hidden away. Elma recalled her mother's afternoon costume of black cashmere, withprickly jet edging on the cuffs, and felt several degrees more faint andweary from pure nervous collapse. Cornelia beamed in artisticsatisfaction. 

"Mother, you know Mrs Ramsden! This is her daughter, and her friend, Miss--er--Briskett. I happened to be behind a hedge just as their cartoverturned. It was all the fault of that lunatic, Mrs Moss--what mustshe do but stick her blessed parrot cage on the side of the road, tofrighten stray horses out of their wits! It's a mercy they were not allkilled. Miss Ramsden has had a severe shock. "

"Poor dear! How trying for you!" ejaculated Madame, in gushing tones ofsympathy. (What she _really_ said was "Paw dar!" as Cornelia was quickto note; storing up the fact, to produce next time she herself wasaccused of murdering the English language!) "How quite too senseless ofMrs Moss! She really is an impossible woman--but so clean! One can'texpect brains, can one, in persons of that class? So sweet of you tocome up, and let us do what we can to comfort you. It is really ourfault, isn't it? Employers' liability, you know, and that kind ofthing! Is the horse hurt? Your hands are hot, dear, but you lookwhite. Now what is it to be? Tea? Wine? Sal volatile? Tell me justwhat you think would help you most!"

She held Elma's hand in her own, and stretched out the other towardsCornelia, thus making both girls feel the warmth of her welcome. Elmasmiled her pretty, shy smile, but left it to her friend to reply. Shewas considerably astonished at the sudden development of anxiety whichthe answer displayed. 

"I guess, if you don't mind, Miss Ramsden had better lie right-down fora spell. She's had some brandy, and a cup of tea would be prettycomforting, but it's rest she needs most of all. It's a pretty hardstrain sitting by, and watching someone else driving straight to glory. When you've got something to do, there's not so much time to think. Thespill was bound to come, so it was up to me to choose the softestplace!"

Mrs Greville stared, in obvious disregard of the meaning of the words. 

"Why, you are American! How odd! I've never met an American in Nortonbefore, in all the years I have lived here!"

"I'm not a mite surprised!" replied Cornelia, with a depth of meaningwhich her hearers failed to fathom. They imagined that she was humblyappreciative of her own good fortune in visiting a neighbourhood as yetpreserved from the desecration of the American tourists, whereas she wasmentally reviewing the sleepy shops where the assistants took a solidfive minutes to procure twopence change, the broken-down flies whichcrawled to and from the station; the tortoise-like round of villagelife. 

"If Providence had sent over half a dozen more like me a dozen yearsago, there's no saying but they might be rubbing their knuckles intotheir eyes by now, and beginning to wake up! I've got to butt right in, if I'm to make any mark by the end of three months!"

Such were the young woman's mental reflections, while Geoffrey rang thebell and anticipated his mother's order for tea. He was anxious thatElma should lie down then and there, but she refused to do so, with aglance from the delicate cushions to her own dusty boots. Cornelia'sopenly expressed solicitude had had the not unnatural result ofincreasing her feeling of exhaustion, and the colour flamed and faded inher cheeks as she endeavoured to drink tea and take part in theconversation which ensued. Mother and son watched her continuously, theone with unconcealed anxiety, the other with a wholly impersonaladmiration, as though the girl were a new article of furniture, whichfitted unusually well into its niche. Her air was kindly enough, buttoo dispassionate to be sympathetic. Elma Ramsden hardly counted as anindependent human being in the estimation of Madame Greville, but shewas a lovely piece of flesh and blood, at whom it was pleasant to look. It would be a thousand pities if her beauty were marred. It was more ina spirit of a connoisseur than a friend that she made the inquiry whichher son was already longing to prompt. 

"My dear child, you look very ill! How are we going to get you home?Your own cart is injured, you say. I think you had better have thebrougham, where you can rest against the cushions. You shall have ourhorses, of course. They won't run away with you, though I don't saythey have never done it before! I like a horse with a spirit of itsown, but these two have been out to-day, so they ought to be prettyquiet. "

At this reassuring speech Elma turned white to the lips, and for amoment swayed in her seat, as if about to faint. Cornelia sprang to herside, while Geoffrey whispered to his mother in urgent tones, to whichshe listened with lifted brows, half-petulant, half-amused. A final nodand shrug proved her consent, and she turned to Elma with a gracious airof hospitality. Madame could never be less than gracious to a guest inher own house!

"My dear child, forgive me! I did not realise how unnerved you were. Of course, you must not dream of returning home to-night. Your motherand I are old friends, and she will trust me to take care of you. Yourfriend will tell her that you are going to rest quietly here until youare better. Quite a charity, I assure you, to keep me company! It willremind me of the days before my own Carol deserted me for that monster, and went off to India. Only daughters should not be allowed to marry intheir mother's lifetime. Remember that when your time comes! Youwon't, of course, but it's horribly ungrateful all the same. Now that'ssettled! To-morrow they can send you out some things, but for to-nightI can supply all you need. A tea-gown fits anyone, and I've a dreamwhich has just come home, that will suit you to distraction. Don'tworry any more, dear--it's all settled!"

But Elma was palpitating with agitation. That she, Elma Ramsden, shouldbe invited to spend several days at Norton Manor seemed altogether toounlooked for and extraordinary a happening to be realised. She wasovercome with gratitude, with regret, with incredulity, for of course itwas impossible to accept. Madame could not be in earnest! Theinvitation was merely a polite form of speech! Even if she did mean it, her own mother would strongly disapprove, for did she not considerMadame a hopeless worldling, and her son a wolf in sheep's clothing, atype of everything that a young man should not be? Oh, no! it wasquite, quite impossible, all the more so that she longed, longedintensely; longed from the very bottom of her heart, to accept!

Elma straightened herself in her chair, protesting, explaining, thanking, and refusing in confused broken sentences, to which none ofher hearers paid the least attention. Mrs Greville and her son waivedobjections aside with the easy certainty of victory, while Corneliacried briskly--

"You don't hev a choice! I undertook to bring you out, but I won't takeyou back if I know it, until you ken sit behind a horse without goingoff into hysterics every time he tosses his mane. Your mother'd be aheap more scared to see you coming back looking like a death's head, than to hear that you were comfortably located with a friend till youpulled round. I guess there's nothing for you to do but to say `Thankyou, ' as prettily as you know how, and settle down to be comfortable. Why make a fuss?"

That last exhortation was decisive! Elma blushingly subsided into thesilence which gives consent, and was forthwith escorted to the roomwhich was to be given over to her use, there to rest quietly until itshould be time to dress for dinner. 

"Unless she would like to go to bed at once. Do you think that would bethe better plan?" Madame asked Cornelia in a whispered aside, but thatyoung lady was quick to veto a retirement which would be so detrimentalto the progress of the "cure" which she had at heart. 

"Why, no, indeed! To be left alone to worry herself ill, brooding overthe whole affair, is about the worst thing that could happen to her justnow. It was only a play-baby spill, but it seems the worst accidentthat the world ever knew to her. She's got to be roused! I'll sit uphere and see that she rests quietly for an hour, and then I'll fix herup for the evening, so she can lie on a sofa and listen while you talk. I must get home by seven o'clock to soothe the old ladies. It would bereal sweet if you'd lend something to take me back! I'm afraid I ken'twalk all the way. "

Madame laughed pleasantly. 

"I wish we could keep you, too, but it would not be kind to Mrs Ramsdento leave her with only a message to-night. I must hope to have thepleasure another time. You American girls are so bright and amusing, and I love to be amused. My son wishes me to have a companion, but awell-conducted young woman who knew her place would exasperate me todistraction, and I should kill anyone who took liberties, so thesituation is a little hard to fill. Do tell me who you are? Where areyou staying in Norton, and how long have you been in England?"

"Just over three weeks, and I like it pretty well, thank you, " returnedCornelia, anticipating the inevitable question, "though I guess I've notstruck the liveliest spot in the land. I'm located with my aunt, MissBriskett, in the Park, and my poppar's coming over to fetch me in thefall. "

Madame's interest waned with surprising suddenness. Of an Americangirl, almost more than any other, is that worldly adage true that it iswise to treat her politely, since there is no knowing whom she mayultimately marry. 

A girl of such striking appearance and obvious affluence might belong toanyone, or become anything in these radical, topsy-turvy days. Themother of a son with broad acres and small income could not but rememberthat a large proportion of present-day duchesses hail from across thewater, but it was a very different matter when the young woman suddenlyassumed the personality of the niece of a middle-class spinster residentat the Manor gates. To Mrs Greville, Miss Briskett stood as a type ofall that was narrow, conventional, and depressing. As much as she couldtrouble herself to dislike any woman outside her own world, she dislikedthe rigid, strait-laced spinster, and was fully aware that the dislikewas returned. Miss Briskett invariably declined the yearly invitationswhich were doled out to her in company with the other townsfolk, satisfied that in so doing she proclaimed a dignified disapproval of thefrivolities of the Manor. "Thank goodness, that old cat's not coming!"was Madame's invariable reception of the refusals, but at the bottom ofher heart she resented the fact that so insignificant a person shoulddare to reject her hospitality. 

"Miss Briskett's niece. Really! How ver-ry interesting!" she drawled, in a tone eloquent of the most superlative indifference. Her easygraciousness of manner became suddenly instinct with patronage, hereyelids drooped with languid disdain. She sauntered round the room, giving a touch here and there, turned over the garments which her maidhad laid on the bed ready for Elma's use, and finally sailed towards thedoor. "We will leave you to rest, then, as long as you think fit. Prayring for anything you require!"

The door closed, leaving Elma to snoodle down on her pillows, with asigh of relief, while Cornelia lifted her skirt in both hands and danceda pas seul, bowing low towards the doorway, blowing kisses from herfinger-tips the while, after the manner of riders in a circus. 

She pranced and pirouetted, while Elma protested in shocked surprise. It struck her that Cornelia's anxiety as to her own condition had died aremarkably sudden death with the disappearance of Mrs Greville from theroom. A pantomimic display was not the best way to ensure quiet andrepose, nor was there much sympathy to be read in the expression of thetwinkling golden eyes. Elma found herself blushing before their gaze, and guiltily drooping her lashes. 

"Cornelia, what do you mean?"

"Columns, my dear, which sweet little buds like you ought to knownothing about! You lie still, and look pretty, and ask no questions;that's _your_ part in the play! You've got to remember that you've hada shock, and your nervous system's all to pieces. You don't have nopain, nor suffering, and anyone to look at you might think you werequite robust; but just as soon as you make the least exertion, you'reall of a flop, and have to be waited on hand and foot!--That's so, isn'tit now!"

Elma's delicate brows were furrowed in her attempt to make out whatCornelia _did_ mean, and what she didn't! There was a note in her voicewhich did not ring true--a good-naturedly mocking note, which accordedill with the words themselves. She blushed still deeper, and put on anair of wounded dignity. 

"I certainly am very far from well. My head feels so light andswimming. I should be very sorry to have to walk far at present. Coming upstairs just now tried me horribly. "

Cornelia clapped her hands in approval. 

"Capital! capital! Keep it at that, and you can't do better. Go slow, and don't try to mend all of a sudden. Even when you _do_ begin to buckup, in a day or two's time, the very sight of a horse will set youpalpitating for all you're worth. You'll kind-er feel as if you'drather crawl home on all fours than sit behind the steadiest old nagthat was ever raised. It's three or four miles from home, isn't it, ormaybe more--much too far for an invalid to attempt, for a week at least. Just a little saunter in the grounds will be all you're fit for thisside Sunday, _with someone to support you carefully as you go_! . .. You'll be apt to turn giddy if you go about alone. . .. Have you gottenthat nicely off by heart now, so you won't go forgetting at the wrongmoments?"

"Why should I forget? Surely my own feelings will be my best guide?"

"Yes, 'um!" said Cornelia, demurely. She let her lids droop over hertell-tale eyes, and stood beside the couch for a long, eloquent moment, during which the flickering colour deepened on Elma's cheek; then turnedaside, took down a book from a shelf, and settled herself comfortably ona wicker chair. 

"I guess we understand one another, and there's no more to be said. Nowfor one hour by the clock you've to shut your eyes and be quiet. Go tosleep if you can! I'll wake you up in time for the prinking. "

Elma buried her head in the cushions and shed a silent tear. Corneliawas laughing at her, and she could not bear it. Her mind, trained tohabits of introspection, began at once to wonder if she were _really_pretending, as the other seemed to think; if the agitation which shefelt was not so much the result of the accident, as caused by theexcitement of seeing Geoffrey Greville, and meeting his ardent glances. The prospect of remaining in the same house and of meeting him from hourto hour was incredible but delightful, yet Elma would give it up ahundred times over, rather than accept hospitality under falsepretences. Was it her duty to insist upon returning home? Should sheannounce that she felt so much refreshed by her rest that there was nolonger any reason why she should be treated as an invalid? The sinkingfeeling of disappointment which followed this inspiration was easilymistaken for a physical symptom. Yes. She _was_ ill! It was quitetrue that she felt faint. Surreptitiously she felt her own pulse, andwas convinced that its beat had increased. She thought of theexpression of Geoffrey's eyes as he lifted her from the ground--blushed, and felt certain that she was feverish. Yes, she would stay! It wouldbe foolish and ungrateful to refuse. Mother had always warned her notto run risks where health was concerned. .. 

A soft little sigh of contentment sounded through the room. If Elma hadbeen fifteen years younger this was the moment at which a warm, stickylittle thumb would have crept into her mouth, as a sign that earthlycares were swept aside, and that she had resigned herself to slumber;being a young woman of sweet and twenty, she snoodled her head into thepillow, and fell fast asleep. 

For over an hour she slept, and woke to find Cornelia leaning back inher chair watching her, while the book lay closed on her lap. For amoment she hardly recognised the face which she had always seenanimated, self-confident, and defiant, but which was now softened intoso sweet a tenderness. A lightning thought flashed through her mindthat it was thus Cornelia would look, if ever in the time to come shewatched by the bedside of her own child. She smiled lazily, andstretched out a caressing hand. 

"Why, Cornelia, have you been sitting there all the time? How dull foryou! How long have I been asleep?"

"It's half after five, so we must be lively, if I am to get back in timeto settle the old ladies, and get ready for dinner. Hustle now! I'llhelp you to shed your own duds, and then pipe up for the transformation!That tea-gown's the limit! I thought I knew the last thing there wasto learn about clothes, but I wouldn't be above going in for a course oftoo-ition from the woman who fixed those frills! This is going to be anhistoric occasion for you, my friend. Your sinful nature is kinder deadto the joys of frillies, but there's going to be a big awakening! Thewoman isn't born who could come out of that gown the same as she wentin!" She lifted the blue serge skirt over Elma's head, and surveyed theplain hem with tragic eyes. "It's pretty hard luck to be born a womaninstead of a man, but it softens it some to have a swirl of frills roundone's ankles! If I'd to poke around with a hem, I'd give upaltogether. --Now, then, sit still where you are, while I fix your hair!I'm going to do it a way of my own, that will be more comfy for leaningup against cushions. If you don't like it you can say so, but I guessyou will. "

She brushed the soft light tresses to the top of Elma's head, andarranged them skilfully in massed-up curls and loops. From time to timeshe retreated a step or two as if to study the effect, returning toheighten a curl, or loosen the sweep over the forehead. In reality shewas reproducing, as nearly as possible, the coiffure of one of thebeauties in miniature hanging on the drawing-room walls behind the couchon which Elma would probably pass the evening. It might chance that theeyes of mother or son would observe the likeness between the two girlishfaces, a fact which could not but score in Elma's favour!

When the dainty white robe was fastened, and each ribbon and lace pattedinto its place by skilful fingers, then, and not till then, Elma wasallowed to regard herself in the glass. It was a startling revelationof her own beauty, but the predominant feeling was not elation, butdistress. Accustomed as she was to a puritan-like simplicity, Elma feltalmost shocked at her own changed appearance. The sweeping folds of thegown gave additional height to her figure, her neck looked like a roundwhite pillar above the square of lace; the quaintly arranged tressesgave a touch of piquancy to her gentle features. An involuntary andquite impersonal admiration was followed by quick repentance. 

"Cornelia, I can't! I can't go down like this! I daren't do it. Ilook like an actress--so dressed up! Just as if I _wanted_ to looknice!"

Cornelia sniffed eloquently. 

"Well--don't you?"

"Yes, but--but I don't like to _look_ as if I did! Oh, Cornelia, couldn't I put on my own dress again, and do my hair the old way? I'dbe so much happier!"

"The Grevilles wouldn't! You've got to remember that they are used tofinery, and not to having young women sitting round in blue serge in theevening. It seems gaudy to you, but it's just dead, everyday-level tothem, and won't raise a ripple. You look a Daisy, and I'm proud of you, and if you had a mite of feeling you'd say `Thank you, ' instead offinding fault after all my work!"

Elma wheeled round; surprised another glance of tender admiration, andheld out impulsive hands. 

"Cornelia, you are good! I _do_ thank you; I know quite well that you--you are trying--I _do_ love you, Cornelia!"

"Oh, shucks!" cried Cornelia, hastily. "Don't gush; I hate gush! Takemy arm, and come along downstairs. Lean on it pretty heavily, mind. Your spirit's too much for your strength, and you are apt to forget thatyou are an invalid. You've got to keep a check on yourself, my dear, and remember that a nervous shock's a ticklish thing, and needs a lot oftending!"

Elma's head drooped; she twisted her fingers together, and glancedbeneath the lashes at her friend's face--glanced timidly, questioningly, as it were, in dread. 

Cornelia deliberately--_winked_!

CHAPTER TEN. 

Geoffrey was lounging about in the hall as the two girls descended thewide staircase. His attitude gave the impression that he had beenimpatiently awaiting their advent, and, as he took in Elma's changedlooks in one comprehensive sweep, his eyes brightened with an expressionbefore which her lids drooped in embarrassment. He came forward eagerlyto lead the way into the drawing-room, where Madame sat reading by anopen window, and a sofa had been pulled forward and banked with cushionsin readiness for the invalid. She smiled a welcome as the littleprocession entered the room, and looked on with an amused scrutiny whileCornelia shook out the cushions, skilfully altering their position sothat the blue brocade should form the background for Elma's fair head. She did not attempt to rise, but her words were kindly enough, if atrifle patronising. 

"Well, dear, and how are you now after your rest? We must take care ofyou, and not let you get overtired. Sure you are comfortable? You looktoo sweet in that gown! I shall never have the heart to wear it afteryou. Isn't it wicked that a woman is obliged to live on after hercomplexion has faded? I could bear any affliction better than watchingmyself growing uglier every day. . .. I should have a little pillowtucked into your back. . .. Sure you won't feel the draught? That'sright! And you really must leave us, Miss Briskett? Couldn't possiblystay to dinner? I suppose it _would_ be unkind! The dog-cart iswaiting for you. I told them to have it round by seven. Geoffrey willdrive you home, of course. After your adventure this afternoon weshould not be happy to leave you to a groom. He'll see you safely tothe door, and report to us on your safe arrival. "

Geoffrey's face clouded involuntarily. He had mapped out a much moreinteresting programme for himself, deciding to slip upstairs and dressfor dinner so early that he should be able to descend the moment thathis mother was securely shut into her own room. Madame's eveningtoilette was a matter of three-quarters of an hour at least, duringwhich time he would have Elma all to himself--to speak to, to look at, to make her look at him. Lovely creature! He had not realised howbeautiful she was, and so sweet, and gentle, and shy. What a marvel tomeet a _shy_ girl in these days of loud-voiced, smoking, tailor-madewomen! A man may appreciate the society of a twentieth-century damselwhom he designates as a "rattling good sort, " but he wants a womanlywoman for his wife. Elma was womanliness personified--a sweet pink-and-white, softly-curved creature, whose eyes regarded the masculinecreature with an unspoken tribute of homage. "You are so big!" theyseemed to say; "I am so little! Oh, please be kind to me!" Inspired bythat look, Geoffrey was capable of fighting dragons on her behalf!

And now he was consigned to drive home a tiresome American girl, who wasremarkably well able to take care of herself! Mentally he fumed;outwardly, being a man of the world, he smiled, and murmured"Delighted!" with an imitation of enthusiasm which won Cornelia'sadmiration. 

"One to you, Mr Greville! You played up real well, " was the mentalcomment, as she dropped a kiss on Elma's brow and listened to heranxious messages. 

"Tell mother not to be anxious. Tell her I'm not really ill--only sillyand nervous. Tell her I shall soon be well--"

"That's all right, my dear. I'll cool her fevered brow. . .. Yourmother'll be a circumstance compared with Aunt Soph! I'll have topromise never to look at a horse again while I'm in this country. " Sheturned towards Mrs Greville with easy self-possession. 

"It's real good of you to send me back, and take such care of us both. Good-afternoon. So pleased to have met you!"

Madame extended her thin, ringed hand, laughing softly the while. Asshe had said, she loved to be amused, and this American girl was quitetoo ridiculously audacious! Actually one might have supposed that shebelieved herself to be speaking to an equal!

Cornelia and Geoffrey Greville passed along the hall, with its great oakfireplace filled in with branches of spreading beech, its decorations oftapestry, of armour, of stags' heads, of cases of stuffed birds. Theceiling was beamed with oak, the floor was polished to a dangerousbrightness, and covered in the centre by an ancient Persian rug. Cornelia had never seen such an interior except as it is imitated on thestage. Her own tessellated, be-fountained entrance hall in New York wasas far removed from it on the one side, as on the other was the squareof oil-cloth, decorated with a hat-stand and two mahogany chairs, whichat The Nook was dignified by the same title. She admired, but admiredwith reservations. "Kinder mouldy!" summoned up the ultimate verdict. 

Geoffrey moved moodily towards the doorway. Though bitterly annoyed athis mother's interference, he was too much of a gentleman to wreak hisvengeance on the innocent cause of his exile. As a mitigation of thepenance, it occurred to him that he might occupy the time of absence bytalking of Elma since he might not talk to her; but Providence wasmerciful, and came to his aid at the eleventh hour. The inner dooropened, and Captain Guest appeared upon the threshold, cap in hand, evidently returning from a solitary ramble, and by no means overjoyed tohave arrived at such an inopportune moment. He bowed, murmured someinarticulate greeting, and would have passed by had not Geoffrey eagerlyblocked the way. For the moment the claims of friendship were non-existent; he did not care whether Guest were pleased or annoyed; he wassimply a means of escape, to be seized on without compunction. 

"Halloa, here you are! Just the man I wanted, " he cried genially. "Youshall have the privilege of driving Miss Briskett home. I was going totake her myself, but I've got some rather--er--pressing business toattend to before dinner"--he chuckled mentally over the application ofthe words--"so I'll stand aside in your favour. We are not going totrust her out of our sight until she is delivered safely into her aunt'skeeping. Awfully sorry, Miss Briskett, but we shall meet again! You'llcome up to see Miss Ramsden, won't you? Do come! Come on Saturday--wecould make up a game of tennis if she is fit enough by that time. "

He helped Cornelia to her seat courteously, yet with an underlying hastewhich could not be concealed. Captain Guest gave him one look--amurderous look--and murmured, "Delighted, I'm shaw!" in tones of ice. Cornelia felt "ugly, " and looked delightful; head erect, lips pursed, eyes a-flash. 

"Just as mad as he can be, to be obliged to be civil to `the girl' for ashort half hour! Guess there's one or two, several sizes bigger thanhim, who would cross the ocean to-morrow for the chance! He's English--real English!--the sort that's fixed up with liquid prejudice for blood, and eye-glasses made to see nothing on earth but the British Empire. Rather skeery at the present moment at being set down beside a boldAmerican hussy, with only a groom as chaperon! . .. Well! I always wastender-hearted. I'll pile it on all I know, to fix him in his opinions. I'm made so's I ken't endoore to disappoint anyone in hisexpectations!"

She turned deliberately to stare at the silent figure by her side. Certainly he was a fine figure of a man! Her own countrymen who wouldhave travelled so far as to take his place, would have to be giants ifthe "several sizes" bigger were to be taken in literal earnest. Thelean cheek showed the square formation of the jaw, the lips were cleanshaven, the eyes dark, deep-set, thickly lashed and browed, the onlyhandsome feature in the face. Cornelia mentally pulled herselftogether, as Guest turned his head, and cast a fleeting glance at herbeneath his drooping lids. 

"I was sorry to hear that your friend is too ill to be moved. Iimagined at the time that she was worse than you realised. "

"She _thinks_ she is, anyhow, and that's about as good as the realthing--perhaps better, where health's concerned. Some people don't needmuch to upset 'em--Elma's one! I guess there's never much snap to her!"

The dark brows arched expressively. "Really! I am afraid I hardly--er--understand the expression!"

"You wouldn't!" returned Cornelia, calmly. "It don't seem to flourishin this part of the country. At home we reckon no one _is_ much usewithout it. "

"So I have heard!" Captain Guest's understanding of the term seemed tohave been more complete than he would acknowledge. "Our standardsdiffer, however. `Snap' may be a useful commodity in the businessworld, but one resents its intrusion into private life. The very nameis objectionable in connection with a girl like Miss Ramsden--with anyEnglish girl!"

Cornelia curled her red lips. 

"Yes, they flop; and you like 'em floppy! Kind of ivy round a stalwartoak, or a sweet, wayside rose. A m-o-oss rose!" No amount ofdescription could convey the intonation which she threw into that shortword. The "o" was lengthened indefinitely, giving a quaint, un-Englisheffect to the word, which sounded at the same time incredibly full ofsuggestion. Guest flushed with annoyed understanding, even beforeCornelia proceeded to enlarge. "The m-o-oss makes a nice, soft waddingall round, to keep the little buds safe and hidden. We use it quite agood deal at home for packing curios. _Dried_ moss! It's apt to get abit stale with keeping, don't you think?"

"No doubt; but even so it retains some of its fragrance. In its worststate I should be sorry to exchange it for"--it was now the Captain'sturn to throw all his power of expression into one short word--"_snap_!"

Cornelia's laugh held a curious mingling of irritation and pleasure. 

It was poor fun having a quarrel all to herself, and it whetted herappetite to find a combatant who was capable of "hitting back. " She satup very straight in her seat, tossing her head backward in quick, assertive little jerks, and clasping her bare hands on her lap. Guestglanced at her curiously from his point of vantage in the rear. She waslike no other girl whom he had met, but somewhere, in pictured form, hemust surely have seen such a face, for it struck some sleeping chord ofmemory. A fantasy perhaps of some Norse goddess or Flame Deity; a wild, weird head, painted in reds and whites, with wonderful shaded locks, andsmall white face aglow with the fire within. His lips twisted in aninvoluntary smile. Could anything be more aggressively unlike "thesweet m-o-oss rose" of which she had spoken?

"I guess if you go to the root of things, a man's picture of a woman iscut out to fit into his own niche! If he's very big himself, there'sonly a little corner left for her--a nookey little corner where the mosscan grow, but the plant don't have much scope to spread. If he don'ttake much stock of himself, he kind-er stands back, and gives her thefront place. Then she gets her chance, and shoots ahead!"

Guest laughed in his turn; an exasperating little laugh, eloquent of animmense superiority and disdain. 

"You speak in an allegory--an allegory of English and American life. Iam quite aware that with you the sexes have reversed positions, that theman has sunk into a money-making machine, who slaves so that his wifemay spend, while the woman devotes her whole life to dress andfrivolity--"

"Have you ever been in my country?"

Cornelia was brought up short and sharp by an unexpected assent. Todisparage America was an unforgivable offence, and she was prepared todenounce the judgment of ignorance in words of flame. Her anger was notabated, but merely turned in another direction, by the discovery that itwas not ignorance, but blindness which she had now to denounce--theblindness of the obtuse Englishman who had been granted a privilegewhich he was incapable of appreciating. 

"Some people travel about with such a heap of prejudice as baggage thatthey might as well stay at home and be done with it. Englishmen pridethemselves on being conservative, and if they've once gotten an ideainto their heads, it takes more'n they'll ever see with their eyes toget it out. I guess you spent your time in my country seeing justexactly what you'd calculated on from the start. It's big enough torear all sorts, and enlightened enough to hold 'em!"

"It is certainly very big, " assented Guest, in a tone of colourlesscivility. Cornelia hated him for his indifference, his patronage, histhinly-veiled antagonism. She was accustomed to a surfeit of masculineattention, and cherished a complacent faith in her own fascinations. Itwas a new and disagreeable experience to meet a man who, so far fromexhibiting the well-known symptoms of subjugation, was honestly anxiousto avoid her society. To feel herself disliked; to be a bore to twomen--the one eager to hand her over to his friend, the other furious atbeing so trapped--can the world contain a deeper degradation forfeminine three-and-twenty? Cornelia's mood changed before it. Theexcitement which had tided her over the events of the afternoon diedaway, to be succeeded by a wave of sickening home-sickness. She waslonesome--she wanted her poppar! She hated this pokey place, andeveryone in it. She guessed she'd take a cabin in the first boat andsail away home. . .. Her lips quivered, and she blinked rapidly tosuppress a threatening tear. She would rather shoot herself than crybefore this patronising Englishman, but it was almost past endurance toplay second fiddle all the afternoon, be snubbed on the way home, andlook forward to an evening spent in propitiating two nervous old ladies!

"I don't get any bou-quets in this play!" soliloquised Cornelia, sadly. "'Far's I can see, there isn't a soul in Great Britain that cares a dumpabout me at the present moment, except, maybe, Aunt Soph, and she'd likeme a heap better at a distance!" She sighed involuntarily, and CaptainGuest, watching her from beneath his lowered lids, was visited by anuncomfortable suspicion that while criticising another, his ownbehaviour had not been above reproach. Now that the girl had lost heraggressive air, and looked tired and sad, the feminine element made itsappeal. Arrogance gave place to sympathy, prejudice to self-reproach. . .. She was only a little thing after all, and as slim as a reed. 

Rapidly reviewing the incidents of the afternoon, he was as muchsurprised as shocked at the recollection of his own discourtesy. Thisstranger had overheard his frank declaration of dislike, had probablyalso seen the glance of reproach which he had cast upon Greville in theporch before starting out on this drive. Twice in a few hours had heoverstepped the bounds of politeness, he, who flattered himself onpresenting an unimpeachable exterior, whatever might be the inwardemotions! The explanation of the lapse was a suddenly conceivedprejudice at the moment of first meeting. The girl's jaunty self-possession had struck a false note, and he had labelled her as callousand selfish. Now, looking at her afresh, he realised that this was notthe face of a cold-hearted woman. This girl could _fed_! She wasfeeling now--feeling something painful, depressing. His eyes fell oncemore on her ungloved hands; he noticed that she held the right wristtightly grasped, and even as he did so memory flashed back a picture ofher as she had stood above him on the bank, her hands held in the samestrained position. Afterwards he marvelled at the accuracy of thatbrain picture, but for the moment concern overwhelmed every otherfeeling. The inquiry came in quick, almost boyish tones, strangelydifferent from his previous utterances. 

"I say! have you hurt your wrist? You are holding it as if it werepainful. "

Cornelia turned to see a face as altered as the voice, elevated herbrows in involuntary surprise, and drawled an indifferent assent. 

"I guess I ricked it, hanging on to those reins. It was pulled half outof the sockets. "

"Didn't you have anything done for it at the house?"

"No. "

"Or tell anyone about it?"

"No. "

"But why not?"

"I never yelp!" said Cornelia, proudly. She tilted her chin, and hereyes sent out a golden flash. "There was enough of that business goingon without my joining in the chorus. If you're hurt, it don't mend itany to make a fuss. "

Guest looked at her curiously. 

"You certainly did not yelp! I thought you had escaped entirely, andthat your friend had come in for all the knocking about. I'm awfullysorry. Sprains are beastly things. Look here, if you don't want to becrippled, it ought to be massaged at once! I'm knowing about sprains. Had an ankle cured in a couple of days by a Swedish fellow, which wouldhave laid me up for weeks on the old methods. The great point is tokeep the blood from congealing in the veins. Of course, it must be donein the right way, or it will do more harm than good. You set to workdirectly _above_ the joint. Er--would you allow me?--might I show youfor just a moment?"

The horse was ambling peacefully along a quiet lane, and as he spokeCaptain Guest twisted the reins loosely round his own wrist and halfheld out his hands, then drew them back again in obvious embarrassment. The shyness was all on his own side, however, for Cornelia cried, "Why, suttenly!" in frank response, and pulled back the loose lawn sleeve toleave her wrist more fully exposed. 

She watched with keen interest while he rubbed upward with gentlepressure, increased gradually as she showed no sign of pain orshrinking. 

"That's the way--upward, always upward. Follow the line of the bloodvessels--you see!" He traced a fine blue line with the end of a bigfinger, while the groom rolled curious eyes from behind, rehearsing adramatic recital in the servants' hall. "After that has been done onceor twice, tackle the joint itself, and you'll be astonished at theeffect. Is there anyone in the house who can do it for you? You coulddo a good deal for yourself, you know, if the worst comes to the worst. Like this--give me the left hand, and I'll show you how to work thejoint itself!"

Cornelia edged round in her seat to adopt a more convenient position, and laid her hand in his with the simplicity of a child. Such a slip ofa thing it looked lying on his big brown paw, soft and white, withcarefully manicured nails--almond-shaped, transparent, faintly pink. Guest loved a pretty hand, and held theories of its value as an exponentof character. The future Mrs Guest might or might not be handsome, asFate decreed, but it was inconceivable that he could ever marry a womanwith red fingers, or bitten nails. A pure artistic delight possessedhim at the sight of Cornelia's little hand, but the soft confident touchof it against his palm brought with it a thrill of something deeper. Hegave his demonstration with a touch of awkwardness, but the girl herselfwas as placidly self-possessed as if he had been a maiden aunt buttoningup a glove. She put question after question, requested him to "show heragain, " and gripped his own wrist to prove that she had mastered thedesired movements. A more business-like manner it was impossible toimagine. Guest doubted if another girl of his acquaintance would haveshown such an utter absence of self-consciousness. It was admirable, ofcourse, quite admirable, but-- He took up the reins with a little rankleof disappointment mingling with his approval. 

Barely a mile now remained to be traversed, as the horse was trotting upthe long hill into Norton; at the top was the High Road, at the end ofthe High Road the gates leading into the park. If anything remained tobe said, it would be wise to say it now, but Cornelia seemed to havenothing to say. She sat in erect, straight-backed fashion, her righthand lying on her knee, the fingers of the left rubbing softly up thearm, serenely oblivious of his presence. Guest cleared his throat once, cleared it again, cleared it a third time, but the words would not come. They passed through the lodge-gates and drew up before The Holt, wherethe groom stood ready to assist Cornelia to alight. Before Guest couldthrow down the reins she had jumped to the ground, and was standingfacing him on the curb. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun fell onher as she stood, a slim white slip of a girl whom he could lift withone hand--a spirit as of tempered steel, which might bend, but neverbreak. 

"I thank you for your courtesy!" said Cornelia, clearly, as she inclinedher head towards him in formal, old-world fashion. 

Captain Guest watched her progress up the narrow path, biting hard athis lower lip. Courtesy! The word stung. The big man felt uncommonlysmall as he turned his horse and drove slowly home. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

At the first shock of hearing of the accident, Mrs Ramsden's motherlyanxiety swamped all other feeling. She forgot to disapprove of a womanwho at sixty still wore a pad on her uncapped head, and lacy frills onher petticoat, in gratitude to the hostess who had extended hospitalityto her ewe lamb. For the moment also, Geoffrey himself ceased to be adangerous roue, and became a gallant rescuer, miraculously appearing onthe scene of danger. She cried, and wanted to know how Elma looked;what Elma said; how Elma felt; what Elma had had to eat; if Elma'ssheets had been aired; if Elma cried--poor darling! at being leftbehind? And Cornelia answered fully on all these points, not always, itis to be feared, with a strict regard to veracity, but with apraiseworthy desire to soothe, which was blessed with wonderful success. Mrs Ramsden dried her eyes, and opined that life was full ofblessings, and that she ought to be thankful that things were no worse!There was a sweet young girl whom she had once known, who had both legsamputated, and died of gangrene, a month before she was to have beenmarried. It was caused by a carriage accident, too, and now she came tothink of it, the poor dear had just the same pink-and-white complexionas Elma herself. 

"Well, I guess there's not much stump about Elma, this journey!"returned Cornelia, cheerily. "There's nothing to it but a little shockto the constitootion. Elma's constitootion is nervy. What she needs isre-pose. Perfect re-pose! If I were you, I'd send up a note to-morrow, and stay quietly at home. It would naturally upset her some to see you, and she'd recuperate quicker by herself. "

But at this Mrs Ramsden drew herself up with a chilly dignity. Shemust certainly see her child. It was her duty to see for herself howmatters progressed. In the matter of removal, she must be guided bywhat she saw. . .. 

"Yes, 'um!" assented Cornelia, meekly. 

She had said her say, and felt confident that Geoffrey Greville mightnow be trusted to play his part. As she walked along the few yardswhich separated The Holt from The Nook, she congratulated herself thatthe worst half of her explanations were over; but in this reckoning shewas mistaken. Miss Briskett's displeasure was unsoftened by anxiety, and was, moreover, accentuated by the remembrance that all this troublewould have been averted if Cornelia had consented to accept Mrs Nevins'invitation to tea in a reasonable and respectful manner. The girl hadrefused to make herself amiable, had insisted upon driving a strangehorse over strange roads, in the face of expressed disapproval, and hadcontrived to come to grief outside the very house of all others whichshe was most desired to avoid! Cornelia was flighty enough already; theonly chance of keeping her in order was by introducing her to friendswho, by their quiet decorum, would exercise a restraining effect on herdemeanour. Symptoms of dissatisfaction had already set in--witness thatsame rejected tea--and this afternoon's experience had established acertain amount of intimacy, which would entail endless difficulties inthe future. 

Poor Miss Briskett, she was indeed sorely tried! With her own eyes shehad beheld Cornelia driven up to the gate by a man who was even moredangerous than the young Squire himself, inasmuch as he was often avisitor in the Park for weeks at a time; his aunt being the proudpossessor of The Towers, the largest and most imposing of the crescenthouses. On the afternoon on which Cornelia's coming had first beendiscussed, she herself had remarked to Mrs Ramsden that the girl mustbe protected from an acquaintance with Captain Guest! It seemed almosttoo exasperating to be borne that she should have effected anintroduction for herself within three short weeks of her arrival!

The spinster's sharp nose looked sharper than ever, her thin lipsthinner, her grey eyes more cold and colourless. Cornelia looked fromthem to the steel trimmings on her dress--really and truly, one lookedabout as human as the other! The "lonesome" feeling gripped once more, and her thoughts flew longingly to "Poppar, " away at the other side oftwo thousand miles of ocean. 

"I feel kinder _left_!" was the expressive mental comment as the maidswept away the crumbs, placed the two fruit dishes and the decanter ofport before her mistress, and noiselessly retired from the room. MissBriskett had been clearing her throat in ominous fashion for the lastten minutes, and now that Mary's restraining presence was removed, shewasted no further time in preliminaries. "I think it is time that wecame to an understanding, Cornelia, " she began, in ice-cold accents. "If you remain under my roof you must give me your word to indulge in nomore escapades like that of this afternoon! I gave my consent with muchreluctance; or, perhaps, it would be more correct to say that I was notasked for my consent at all; and now you see what the consequences havebeen!"

"I promise faithfully, Aunt Soph, that I'll never have a smash again, ifI can help it! I'm not a bit more set on them than you are yourself, and I guess the mare was as innocent as a babe, so far's you'reconcerned. She wasn't deliberately setting out to annoy you, as youseem to imagine. I guess she needs more sympathy than blame!"

"Don't fence with words, Cornelia, please. I was not referring to thehorse, and I have no intention of allowing you to run any more risks. Idistinctly forbid you to take more carriage expeditions without acompetent driver. I am responsible for your safety, and your fatherwould blame me, if any harm happened to you while you are my guest. Iacted against my judgment in allowing you to go alone to-day, but Ishall not do so again. Do you clearly understand?"

Cornelia's golden eyes stared at her thoughtfully. An inherent sense ofjustice made her conscious that her aunt had right on her side, thoughshe might have worded her decree in more conciliatory fashion. Thereference to her father also had a softening effect. Poppar'd go crazyif he heard that his daughter had been in any sort of danger! . .. 

"Well--" she said slowly. "It's a `got-to, ' I suppose! It would beplaying it pretty low down, to land you with the worry of nursing me, and keeping Poppar quiet at the other end of the world. But youwouldn't expect me to drive about with one of those fool-creatures fromthe livery stable taking care of me, as if I were a kiddy? No, sir! Idon't see myself coming down to _that_ level yet awhile! We'd best getup some driving parties, with those men at the Manor. They seem to havelots of horses and carts and things hanging round, and I don't see asthey could employ themselves better than in giving Elma and me a goodtime. I'll air the subject when I go up to inquire!"

Miss Briskett fairly leapt on her seat with horror and indignation. Shebegan to speak, and spoke rapidly for the next three minutes, layingdown a series of commandments to which Cornelia listened with batedbreath. 

Thou shalt not hold any communication with the Manor, nor with thepeople inhabiting the Manor; nor with the guest sojourning beneath theroof of the Manor. Thou shalt not associate with any men outside thecircle of thy aunt's acquaintances. Thou shalt walk abroad by thineaunt's side, on thine own legs, and comport thyself discreetly, asbehoves a young gentlewoman of good family. Thou shalt remember thatthou art a self-invited guest, and conform to the rules of theestablishment, or else shalt promptly return to the place from whencethou camest. . .. 

In a word, Miss Briskett lost her temper, and when a woman of matureyears and grey hairs loses control of herself, and lets her tongue runamuck, it is a sorry spectacle. The flush on Cornelia's cheeks was notfor her own humiliation, but for her aunt's. She lowered her lids, ashamed to look into the angry, twisted face. 

"Yes, I understand, " she replied quietly, in answer to the finalquestion. "I guess I understand quite a lot. "

"And you mean to obey?"

There was a moment's hesitation, and then--

"No, " drawled Cornelia, calmly. "I can't say as I do! Those peoplehave been polite to me, and I'm bound to be civil in return. I neverran after any man that I know of, and I don't intend to begin, but whenI _do_ meet 'em, I'm going to be as pleasant as I know how. It's apity, Aunt Soph, but you don't understand girls! I've not been rearedon tea-parties and cribbage, and I tell you straight that I've just_got_ to have a vent! You be wise not to try to shut me up, for I getpretty reckless if I'm thwarted. "

"Cornelia, do you dare to threaten me?"

"No, Aunt Soph. I'm kind enough to warn you before it is too late!"

Cornelia rose as she spoke, and walked upstairs to the square, prosaicroom, which seemed the only bit of "home" she possessed in the whole bigmap of Europe; sat herself down, and reviewed the situation. 

Aunt Soph had not wanted her! The longing for a real heart-to-heartfriendship had been on one side only; that was the first, and mostpetrifying revelation. She had travelled two thousand sea-sick miles tofind herself an unwelcome guest, imprisoned within the four square wallsof a nook-less Nook; bound fast in the trammels of old-worldconventions. "My country, 'tis of thee, sw-e-et land of libertee!"murmured Cornelia, mournfully, beneath her breath. Two big tears rosein her golden eyes, and her lips quivered. Should she pack up, and sailfor home forthwith? For a moment the temptation seemed irresistible, but only for a moment. Poppar would feel badly if his two nearestrelations came to an open rupture; and besides, "When I make up my mindto do a thing, I get there--ev-er-y time!" said the girl, staunchly. "Iguess it'll take more than four weeks of this country to daunt CorneliaE Briskett, if she's got her head set to stay. For one thing, I'vetaken in hand to start Elma Ramsden on the road to liberty, and there'sgoing to be a fight before she's through. I'll have to stand by, and beready with the drill. As for Aunt Soph, she's acted pretty meanly, letting me come along when she hated to have me, but for Poppar's sakeI'll be as meek as I know how. I thought we were going to be friends, but she's such a back number she don't even remember how it felt to be agirl, and it's not a mite of use arguing. She thinks she knows betterthan I do!" Cornelia gurgled amused incredulity. "Well, it's as easyas pie to hev a little prank on my own account, and prank I _must_, ifI'm to last out another three months in this secluded seminary. Myconstitootion's fed on excitement! I should wilt away without it. Poppar wouldn't like to have me wilt!" . .. She sat gazing out of thewindow; gazing--gazing, while a slow smile curled the corners of herlips. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

Two golden days! Summer sunshine, roses, lounging chairs set behindsheltering trees, grey eyes eloquent with unspoken vows; on every sidebeauty, and luxury, and sweet fostering care. Elma felt as if she hadfallen asleep, and awakened in a fairyland more wonderful than herwildest dreams!

On the morning after the accident, Mrs Ramsden had duly chartered afly, and driven to the Manor with intent to bring her daughter homewithout delay. During the night watches old dreads had revived; sheshuddered at the thought of Elma left alone--poor, innocent darling!--with that terrible young man; pursed her lips at the recollection ofMadame's frivolities, and decided that nothing but grimmest necessityshould induce her to prolong the danger. She entered the Manor, aSpartan matron prepared to fight to the death for the rescue of herchild, but behold, instead of a battlefield, there stretched before hereye a scene of pastoral simplicity, in which the most Puritan of criticscould not have discovered an objectionable detail. 

A wide, velvet lawn, shaded by a belt of grand old beeches; a deck chairplaced in the most sheltered nook, on which Elma reclined against a bankof cushions, while beside her--marvellous and confounding sight!--satMadame herself, turning the heel of a common domestic stocking, amushroom hat hiding the objectionable pompadour. So far as the eyecould reach there was not a man in sight, not so much as a whiff oftobacco smoke in the air! As the round black figure waddled across thelawn, Madame rose in gracious welcome, while Elma--Elma's heart began tobeat with sickening rapidity, a mist swam before her eyes, and a lumpswelled in her throat. She could not speak; her cheeks turned firstred, and then white. She shook her head in response to her mother'sgreeting, and gasped as for breath. 

The good lady was distracted at beholding such symptoms of collapse inher quiet, well-disciplined daughter, and Madame reproached herself inthe conviction that the child was really much worse than she hadimagined. As a matter of fact, the disease from which Elma wassuffering was nothing more nor less than pure, unadulterated fright!Fright lest her mother should insist upon taking her home; lest sheshould be compelled to leave the Manor before Geoffrey returned from anexcursion carefully timed to end just as his mother drove out to keep anappointment in the town! She was literally paralysed with fear. Itseemed as if life itself hung on the issue of the next few moments. Sheshut her eyes and listened, with palpitating breath, to the conversationbetween the two ladies. 

"Don't be alarmed! It is just seeing you that has upset her. A fewminutes ago she was quite gay. Weren't you gay, dear? We have had sucha happy little morning together. So long as she is absolutely quiet sheseems quite well. But as you see, any excitement--" Madame gesticulatedeloquently behind Elma's back. "Excitement prostrates you, doesn't it, dear? We must keep you quite a prisoner for the next few days!"

Mrs Ramsden sat down heavily on a wicker chair, folded her hands on hersloping lap, and sighed resignedly. Hardly a moment had elapsed sinceher arrival, but already her cause was lost. To subject Elma to thefatigue of returning home would be madness, when even an ordinarymeeting had so disastrous effect; to refuse hospitality so charminglyoffered would be ungracious in the extreme. There was nothing for itbut to submit with a good grace, and submit she did, arranging to sendup a box of clothing later in the afternoon, and promising to drive upagain in a few days' time. "A few days!" She wanted to come everysingle morning, but Madame sweetly ignored her hints, and Elma, brightening into something wonderfully like her old self, declared thatthere was not the slightest cause for anxiety. 

"I shall be _quite_ well, mother dear!" she murmured affectionately asthe poor lady stooped to kiss her before hurrying away, carefullymindful of the fare of the waiting fly. "_Quite_ well, and--happy!"The pink flamed again at that last word, and Madame stroked the softcheek caressingly. 

"That child is a picture! I love to look at her, " she said gushingly, as the two ladies recrossed the lawn. "How cruel of you to have kepther to yourself all this time. Really, do you know, I hardly realisedthat you _had_ a daughter. But we are going to alter all that, aren'twe? So sweet of you to trust her to me!"

Madame's conversation was a mixture of questions and exclamations, butshe rarely paused for a reply. She prattled unceasingly as she saw herguest into her fly, and watched her drive down the avenue. Poor oldGoody Ramsden; she was a worthy old dear! Wrapped up in that child;terrified to move her, yet terrified to leave her behind! Madame smiledin amused understanding of the good lady's scruples. What duckings andcacklings would go on in the parlours of the Park! What fears andforebodings would be experienced for the safety of the dove in theeagle's nest! Out of a pure spirit of bravado she was inclined to keepthe child as long as possible; and the fact of Geoffrey's obviousadmiration only strengthened her determination. It was dull for a youngman with only his mother in the house. Let him amuse himself with thispretty girl. A few days flirtation would put him in good humour, andthere was no danger of anything serious. Geoffrey never _was_ serious. His flirtations could be counted by the score, but they held noconnection with his future marriage. That must be a serious businessarrangement, involving a name, a fortune, possibly a title; manytangible qualities would be demanded from the future mistress of theManor. 

Madame went through life regarding every person and thing from her ownpersonal standpoint; apart from herself they ceased to interest. Shewould be affectionate and gushing to Elma Ramsden so long as the girlremained a guest under her roof; when she returned to The Holt she wouldpromptly fade out of recollection. That a broken heart might be amongthe impedimenta which she would carry away with her, was a possibilitywhich never once entered into the calculation. A typical Society woman!Verily, Goody Ramsden's fears were not built without a foundation!

An hour later Madame was driving out of her own gates, while Geoffreywas installed on her seat by the invalid's couch. A whole hour and ahalf still remained before the gong would sound the summons to luncheon;an hour and a half of solitude beneath the shadow of the trees! Lastnight there had been another _tete-a-tete_ while Madame and CaptainGuest played piquet at the end of the room; this morning there had beenyet another, when Elma was first installed in the garden, and Madame wasinterviewing her staff. Astonishing how intimate two people can becomein two long conversations! Marvellous in what unison two separate mindsmay move! Geoffrey and Elma seemed constantly to be discovering freshsubjects on which they thought alike, longed alike, hoped, grieved, joyed, failed and fought, in precisely the same interesting fashion!Each discovery was a fresh joy, a fresh surprise. "Do you really?""Why, so do I!" "How strange it seems!" In the garden of Eden thesesurprises grow on every bush!

Elma's heart was hopelessly out of keeping, but conscience still foughtfeebly against temptation. She had been trained to consider no manworthy of her regard who did not attend Saint Nathaniel's Parish Church, eschew amusements, wear a blue ribbon in his coat, belong to the Anti-Tobacco League, and vote with the Conservative Party! In the watches ofthe night she had decided that it was her duty to use her influence tolead this dear worldling into better ways, and, to his credit be itsaid, the dear worldling appeared most eager to be reformed. Hebesought Miss Ramsden to "pitch into him"; declared that he knew, don'tyou know, that he was an "awful rotter"; but represented himself aswaiting eagerly to be guided in the way in which he should go. How washe to begin?

Elma puckered her delicate eyebrows. She was wearing no hat, as it wasmore comfortable to recline against the cushions with uncovered head, but a fluffy white parasol belonging to her hostess was placed by herside, in case an obtrusive sunbeam penetrated the branches overhead. "Inever know where the sun is going to move next. Men always do, don'tthey? I think it is so clever of them!" Madame had declared in hercharming, inconsequent fashion as she fluttered away. Elma did not needthe parasol as a shade, but it came in very usefully as a plaything inmoments of embarrassment. There was one all-important subject weighingon her mind; she made a desperate plunge, and put it into words--

"You--you don't go to church!"

"Not very often, I admit. I'm afraid it is not much in my line. "

"Don't you--believe in it?"

The vague question was yet sufficiently explicit. The Squire leantforward, his hands clasped between his knees, his forehead knitted intothoughtful lines. 

"Er--yes! As a matter of fact, I _do_! Didn't once! At college, youknow; got into a free-thinking set, and chucked the whole thing aside. But I've been about a good bit. I've seen countries where they go onthat tack and it doesn't pay. The old way is the best. I know I'm abit careless still. Men are, Miss Ramsden, when they have onlythemselves to think of. They get into the way of leaving that sort ofthing to their mothers and sisters, but when a fellow starts forhimself, it's different! I'm the master here, in name, but virtuallyit's my mother who runs the house. I don't interfere with her ways, butwhen I--er--_marry_, it will be different! Then I shall make a stand. Family prayers, and that sort of thing, don't you know. A man ought toset an example. You are quite right; you are always right! Bit shy atfirst, you know, and that sort of thing, but I'd do it; I promise you, Iwould! Turn up at church regularly every Sunday!"

"It would be your duty, " said Elma, primly. She twirled the handle ofthe sunshade round and round, and strove womanfully to keep her thoughtsfixed on the subject on hand, and away from that thrilling "when Imarry. " "But it isn't only _form_, you know, " she added anxiously!"It's caring for it most of all, and putting it before everything else!"

Geoffrey gazed at her in a rapture of admiration. He loved hersimplicity; he adored her earnestness. In his eyes she was a shiningwhite angel sent down from heaven to be his guide through life. Itneeded all his self-control to keep back the words which were strugglingfor utterance, but the fear of frightening Elma by a prematuredeclaration gave him strength to resist. 

They turned instead into a prayer, a sincere yet bargain-making prayer, like that of Jacob of old. 

"Give me this woman!" cried the inner voice: "this one woman out of allthe world, and I will vow in return my faith, my allegiance!" The mostearnest vows are often offered in the least conventional language, andGeoffrey Greville was not a man to promise without intending to perform. There was a long, pregnant silence. Elma felt the presence ofelectricity in the air, and forced herself to return to the attack. 

"And there are other things! . .. You play bridge--"

"Certainly I do!"

"For money?"

"Shilling points. "

"What are `points'?"

Geoffrey laughed happily. This innocence sounded fascinating in hisinfatuated ears. 

"That's a little difficult to explain, isn't it, if you don't knowanything about the game? Don't you play cards at all?"

"Mother won't have them in the house. We have `Quartettes, ' but theyare different. . .. Can you lose much at shilling points?"

"A fair amount, if you're unlucky, but you can win it, too! I generallydo win, as a matter of fact!"

"What is the most you ever lost in a night?"

Geoffrey grimaced expressively. 

"Sixty pounds; but I was a fool, and doubled no trumps on a risky hand, on the chance of making the rubber. That was quite an exceptionaldrop!"

"I should hope so, indeed!" Elma's horror was genuinely unassumed. "Sixty pounds! Why, it's more than many a poor family has to live onall the year round! Think of all the good you could do with sixtypounds! It seems awful to lose it on cards in one evening!"

"The next sixty pounds I win, I'll give to a workmen's charity! Willthat wipe away my offence?"

Elma was not at all sure that it would. Money won in unworthy fashioncould never bring with it a blessing, according to Mrs Ramsden'stheories. She shook her head sadly, and ventured another question. 

"You go to races, too, don't you?"

"Whenever I get the chance. "

"You _like_ going?"

"Love it! Why shouldn't I? Finest thing in the world to see a goodhard race! Wish I could keep a stud myself. I would, if I had themoney. I must tell you the truth, you see, even if you are shocked!"

"Racecourses are very wicked places. "

"Ever seen one?"

"No. "

"Oh!"

They looked at each other and simultaneously burst into a laugh. Theywere young and in love; it was delightful to brush aside problematicaldifficulties, and give themselves over to enjoyment of the goldenpresent. Elma forgot her usual somewhat prim reserve, and her laughterwas like a chime of silver bells. It is a rare thing to bear a musicallaugh. Geoffrey longed for nothing so much as to make her laugh again. 

"I'm a born sportsman, Miss Ramsden, and I'll never be anything else. I'd like to give up everything you dislike, but it's no use swearingagainst one's convictions. It's not honest, and it doesn't last, but Ican promise you always to play straight, and to keep down the stakes sothat I shall never run the risk of losing so much again. "

"Why can't you play for nothing but just the fun of the game?"

"We call that playing for love! It's rather dull--_in cards_!"

Elma twirled her parasol, and blushed to the eyes. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

Mrs Ramsden sent up a box to the Manor that same afternoon, containinga dark linen dress, a blue blouse, and black skirt for evening wear; asupply of underclothing, a grey Shetland shawl, and a flannel dressing-gown. An hour later, conveyed by special messenger, came a second box, accompanied by a note in Cornelia's handwriting. Elma was resting inher bedroom when it arrived. She opened it, and read as follows:--

 "Dear Moss Rose, --I guess tight gowns are a bit worrying in hot weather, so I've gotten together a few waists and skirts that may aid your recovery, and send them along with my love, wishing you many happy returns of the day. If it isn't the right day, it ought to be, anyway! I always calculated to be here for your birthday, and I'm about tired waiting. If you send them back, I'll burn them, as sure as taxes, but I reckon you're too sweet to hurt my feelings. Put on the one with the ruckings! It's the duty of every woman to look her best in the eyes of--. What wonderful weather for the time of year!-- Your friend, Cornelia. 

 "_PS_--There's quite a gale blowing round this corner!. .. "

"It _is_ sweet of her, but I mustn't, I can't, I really _couldn't_!" wasElma's comment as she flushed with surprise and embarrassment. It wasquite certain that she could not accept the gift, but there was no harmin just looking to see what the box contained! She crossed the room, cut the string, and unfolded the brown papers which covered thecardboard box; lifted fold after fold of tissue papers, and gasped inadmiration of each treasure as it was revealed. 

The daintiest of white lawn morning blouses, with skirt to match; askirt and bodice of cream net marvellously rucked with ribbons; a bluemuslin, afoam with flounces. All were fresh from the maker's hands, and, as Elma divined, had been selected from Cornelia's storehouse ofgarments, with careful regard to her own requirements. The "waists"would fit easily enough; the skirts--she shook out the muslin and heldit against her own dress. Just a trifle short, perhaps, but notsufficiently so to spoil the effect. It was a _lovely_ skirt! Elmaedged away from the glass with a little jerk of the figure calculated tosend the flounces in a swirl round her feet. For three-and-twenty yearsshe had gone through life wearing plain hems, and as Cornelia predicted, the flounces went to her brain. After all, would it not be ungraciousto reject so kindly a gift? Her real birthday fell in the middle ofJuly, and Cornelia, being rich and generous, would naturally offer agift on the occasion. To keep the blue muslin would be onlyanticipating the remembrance. 

Yes! she _would_ keep it, and return the other dresses, explaining thatshe really could not accept so much. But on second thoughts Corneliahad specially desired her to wear the net with the ruckings. . .. Elmadropped the muslin on the bed, lifted the net blouse carefully from itswrappings, and held it before her to view the effect. Had mortal handsfashioned it, or had it dropped down ready-made from a fairyland wheregood spirits gathered pieces of cloud and sea-foam, and blew themtogether for the benefit of happy girlhood! Elma looked at herself inthe glass; looked back at the blue glace silk and black surah on thebed, and thanked Heaven for Cornelia Briskett! Indeed and indeed shewould wear the "rucked net to-night, and look her best in the eyesof. .. " And she would send back the white lawn, and say--_What_ shouldshe say? Perhaps, after all, it would seem rather queer to keep the twomore elaborate gowns, and send back the simplest. It might appear as ifshe did not consider it worthy of acceptance. She would keep them all;wear them all; enjoy them all; and oh, dear, sweet, kind, and mostunderstanding Cornelia, if ever, ever, the time arrived when the giftcould be returned, with what a full heart should it be offered!

Pen, ink, and paper lay ready on the writing-table. Elma seatedherself, and wrote her thanks:--

 "You dear Fairy-Godmother, --At first I thought I couldn't, but I've tried on all three, and I simply _can't_ part from them. I don't know what mother will say, but I'm living just for the hour. I'm going to wear the net to-night, and if I look my best it will be _your_ doing, and I'll never forget it! It's just wonderful up here, but I feel wicked, for really and truly I'm not ill? Captain Guest asked me a hundred questions about you last night, and I told him such nice things, Cornelia! I wonder sometimes whether you are a witch, and upset the cart on purpose, but of course there _was_ the parrot! Madame is most kind, but I don't really _know_ her a scrap better than the moment we arrived. She wears lovely clothes. If it were not for you I should have to go downstairs to-night in an odd blouse and skirt, and feel a _worm_! I hope you'll come up to inquire. Come soon! Everyone wants to see you again. With a hundred thanks. --Your loving friend, Elma. "

 "Why am I a `Moss Rose'?"

The note was slipped into the letter-box in the hall, as Elma went downto dinner that night, lovely to behold in the "rucked gown, " and theperusal of it next morning was one of the pleasantest episodes whichCornelia had known since her arrival. Truth to tell, she had felt manydoubts as to the reception of her fineries, but the mental vision ofElma's tasteless home-made garments, against the background of thebeautiful old Manor, had been distressing enough to overcome herscruples. She dimpled as she read, and laughed triumphantly. Thingswere going well; excellently well, and those dresses ought to exercise adistinctly hurrying effect. Four or five days--maybe a week. "My!"soliloquised Cornelia, happily; "I recollect one little misery whoproposed to me at the end of an afternoon picnic. They're slower overhere, but Mr Greville was pretty well started before this spell began, and if he's the man I take him for, he won't last out a whole week withElma among the roses. Then the fun will begin! Sakes alive, what aflare-up! And how will the `Moss Rose' stand pickling? That's where Icome to a full stop. I can't surmise one mite which way she'll turn;but she's got to reckon with Cornelia E Briskett, if she caves in. "

Miss Briskett did not vouchsafe any inquiry as to the contents of theletter which had afforded such obvious satisfaction. She had probablyrecognised Elma's writing on the envelope, but made no inquiries as toher progress. Relationships between the aunt and niece were still atrifle strained; that is to say, they were strained on Miss Briskett'sside; Cornelia's knack of relapsing into her natural manner on the veryheels of a heated altercation seemed somehow an additional offence, since it placed one under the imputation of being sulky, whereas, ofcourse, one was exhibiting only a dignified reserve!

Miss Briskett set forth on her morning's shopping expedition withoutrequesting her niece to accompany her, an omission which she fondlyhoped would be taken to heart; but the hardened criminal, regarding theretreating figure from behind the curtains, simply ejaculated, "Praisethe Fates!" swung her feet on to the sofa, and settled herself to theenjoyment of a novel hired from the circulating library round thecorner. For a solid hour she read on undisturbed, then the door opened, and Mason entered, carrying a telegram upon a silver salver. 

"For you, miss. The boy is waiting for an answer. "

Cornelia tore open the envelope with the haste of one separated far fromher dearest, took in the contents in a lightning glance, sighed withrelief, and slowly broke into a smile. 

"Well--!" . .. She drawled thoughtfully; "Well--! . .. Yes, there is ananswer, Mason. Give me a pencil from that rack!" She scribbled two orthree words; copied an address, and handed it back eagerly. 

"There! give that to the boy--and see here, Mason, I shall want somelunch ready by half after twelve. Send Mury right along to my room. I'm going away!"

Mason's chin dropped in dismay, but she was too well-trained anautomaton to put her feelings into words. She rustled starchily fromthe room, to give the dread message to Mary, who promptly flew upstairs, voluble with distress. 

"You never mean to say that you are going to leave us, Miss Cornelia?Why, you've only just come! I thought it was to be three months, at theleast. You're never going so soon?"

"Only for a few days. I'll be back again, to plague you, by the end ofnext week. Don't you want me to go, Mury?"

Mary shook her head vigourously. 

"I'd like to keep you for ever! The house isn't the same place sinceyou came. I was saying to my friend only last Sunday that I couldn't abear to think of you leaving. Couldn't you find a nice young gentleman, and settle down in England for good? I'd come and live with you! Iwouldn't ask anything better than to live with you all my days. "

"Mury, Mury! what about the friend? What would he say to suchdesertion?"

Mary's grimace expressed a lively disregard of the friend's sufferings. 

"I don't know how it is, but I think a heap more of you nor I do ofhim, " she confessed candidly. "I'd come fast enough, if you gave me thechance. There's lots of good-looking young gentlemen in England, MissCornelia!"

"Is that so? I hope I'll meet quite a number of them, then; but Icouldn't settle down out of my own country, Mury! You'll hev to crossthe ocean if you want to tend my house. We'll speak about that anotherday; just now we've got to hustle round and get my clothes packed in thenext hef hour. Just the dandiest things I've got. I'm going to have areal gay time in a hotel in London, Mury, with some friends from home, so I must be as smart as I know how. . .. Get out the big dress basket, and we'll hold a Selection Committee right here on the bed. "

Mary set to work, unable, despite depression, to restrain her interestin the work on hand. The big boxes were dragged into the middle of theroom; bed, chairs, and sofas were strewn with garments, until the roompresented the appearance of a general drapery establishment. Corneliaselected and directed, Mary carefully folded up skirts, and laid them inthe long shallow shelves. In the height of the confusion the dooropened, and Miss Briskett entered with hasty step. Signs of agitationwere visible on her features, an agitation which was increased by thesight of the dishevelled room. In a lightning glance she took in thehalf-filled trunks, the trim travelling costume spread over the chair bythe dressing-table, and a gleam of something strangely like fear shoneout of the cold grey eyes. Cornelia had no difficulty in understandingthat look. Aunt Soph was afraid she had pulled the rope just a trifletoo tight, and that it was snapping before her eyes; she was picturing aflight back to America, and envisaging her brother's disappointment andwrath. Out of the abundance of her own content the girl vouchsafed agenerous compassion. 

"Yes, I'm off, Aunt Soph! My friends, the Moffatts, are putting up atthe Ritz for a week, and want to have me come and fly round with them. They are going to meet me at four o'clock this afternoon, to be readyfor a theatre to-night. I've got to be off at once. Mason's gettingready some lunch. "

Miss Briskett stood severely erect, considering the situation. Now thatthe great anxiety was removed, the former irritation revived. 

"And pray, who are the Moffatts? I must know something more about thembefore I can give my consent to this visit!"

Cornelia handed a pile of cardboard boxes into Mary's hands. 

"Take that hat-box downstairs, and pack these on the tray. Don't mussthem about! Then you can come back to finish off. "

She waited until the door was safely closed, then faced her aunt acrossthe bed. "I'm pleased to answer your questions as well as I know how. The Moffatts are--the Moffatts! I guess that's about all their familyhistory, so far as I'm concerned. They came over with me, and MrsMoffatt was real kind looking after me when I first came on deck, andwas feeling pretty cheap. We saw quite a good deal of each other afterthat, and she said she'd love to have me do the sights with hersometime. She was going straight through to Paris, to get fixed up withclothes. Now it seems she's back in London. I gave her my address, andshe wires me to come. "

"You spoke of `the Moffatts. ' Who are the other members of the party?"

"There's a husband, of course, but he's not much account, except to paythe bills. He must be pretty cashy, for she has everything she wants, but it gets on her nerves having him poking round all the while. That'sone reason why she wants me. I could always keep him quiet!"

The complacent gurgle, the jaunty tilt of the head were as fuel to thespinster's indignation. She pressed her lips tightly together beforeputting the final question. 

"And your father knows nothing--nothing whatever of these people?"

"Well, I guess I may have mentioned their names. He didn't knowanything about them before that. "

"And you propose to stay at a London hotel with the casual acquaintancesof a few days? You are mad! I cannot possibly allow it. You must wireat once to say that you are unable to accept. "

Cornelia stood silently erect. Her chief personal characteristic wasthat air of hot-house fragility so often seen in American girls, but inthat silence her chin squared, her lips set, the delicate browscontracted in a beetling frown. It was no longer the face of a girl oftwo-and-twenty which confronted the spinster across the bed; it was theface of Edward B Briskett, the financier who had twice over piled upgreat fortunes by sheer force and determination. 

"Now see here, Aunt Soph, " said Cornelia, clearly; "this is where youand I have got to come to an understanding. I've been used to going myown way ever since I was short-coated, and it wasn't hankering to be putback into leading-strings that brought me across the ocean. Poppartrusts me, and that's enough for me. You've got a right to boss yourown home, but where I'm concerned your authority don't spread one inchbeyond the gate. If I decide to accept an invitation, it's on my ownresponsibility, and no matter what happens, _you_ won't be blamed! I'vedecided to leave this at one twenty-five, and I'm _going_ to leave, if Ihave to jump out of the window to get away! Now, that's straight, andwe know where we are!"

"I shall write to your father to-night, and tell him that you have gonein defiance of my wishes. "

"I guess it's the best thing you can do. Poppar'll cable back: `_GiveCorney her head; It's screwed on pretty straight_!' and you'll feeleasier in your mind. " She paused a moment, her features softened into asmile. Despite the force of her words, there had throughout been notrace of ill-nature in her voice. Now she drew slowly nearer her aunt, holding out her pretty, white hands in ingratiating appeal. 

"See here, Aunt Soph, don't be mad! I'm sorry you take it like this, for I've a feeling that it's just about the best thing that could happento both of us, for me to clear out for a spell just now. We've been abit fratchetty this last week; gotten on each other's nerves somehow--but when I come back we can make a fresh start. In America, girls havemore liberty than over here; but there's not a mite of reason why weshould quarrel over it. You're my own Poppar's sister, and I came quitea good way to see you. It's a pity if we ken't pull it off for the nextfew months. Don't you want to kiss me, and wish me a real good time?"

Miss Briskett drew back coldly, but the little hands clasped hershoulder, the young face pressed nearer and nearer. Looking down fromher superior stature, the girl's likeness to her father was once morestrikingly apparent; but it was not the man she recalled, but the dearermemory of the Baby Edward of long ago, whose clear child's eyes had seenin "Sister" the most marvellous of created things. As on a formeroccasion, the remembrance was more powerful than words. Long years ofsolitary confinement had hardened the spinster's heart beyond thepossibility of a gracious capitulation, but at least she submitted tothe girl's embrace, and made no further objections to the proposedjourney. 

On the whole, Cornelia felt that she had scored a victory. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

Cornelia booked a first-class return to town, scattered half-crownsbroadcast among the astonished porters, ensconced herself in a corner ofan empty carriage, and prepared to enjoy the journey. She did notpurchase any magazines at the bookstall; the only child of a millionaireneed not trouble about insurance coupons, and at two-and-twenty life ismore interesting than fiction. Cornelia guessed she'd heaps more tothink about than would occupy a pokey little journey of from two orthree hours. Just to think how things changed from day to day!Yesterday she had supposed herself dumped right-down in Norton Park fora solid three months, and to-day here she was full chase for London, with the prospect of a week, crammed full of frivolity and amusement!

She gurgled to herself in much contentment. Aunt Soph had kissed her, or, at least, submitted to be kissed; Elma was engaged in playing thepart of Eve in flounced blue muslin, to an Adam in a flannel suit, in aparticularly well-mown Garden of Eden. She could therefore be happy inher mind concerning those who were left behind, and she had never yetdoubted her own ability to take care of herself. She smoothed thewrinkles on her long suede gloves, flicked the dust off the ridiculouspoints of her "high shoes, " and sighed impatiently. She and her baggagewere safely aboard. Why couldn't that old engine hustle up and start?

Cornelia rose to her feet, and thrust her head out of the open window. There was only one passenger approaching along the deserted platform, and as fate would have it, he had reached a spot but a couple of yardsaway, so that the sudden appearance of the girl's head through thewindow was followed by simultaneous exclamations of astonishment. Exclamations of recognition, too, for the new-comer was none other thanCaptain Guest himself, most obviously equipped for town. 

"Miss Briskett--is that you?"

"Mussy, what a turn you gave me! Who'd have dreamt of meeting youhere?"

"Are you going up to town?"

"I am! Are you?"

"I am! Do you prefer to travel alone? If not, may I come in?"

"Why, suttenly!" Cornelia was not yet quite sure whether she wereannoyed or pleased by the encounter, but on the whole the agreeableelement predominated. She was of a gregarious nature, and at any timepreferred to talk, rather than remain silent. After a month spent in astrictly feminine household, the society of a male man was an agreeablenovelty. Moreover--sweet triumph to a daughter of Eve!--half an hour's_tete-a-tete_ on the drive home from the Manor had apparently made shortwork of the Captain's preconceived dislike, since he was so anxious torepeat the dose! Cornelia smiled; the naughty, little smile of a spiderwho welcomes a fly into his net. 

Another minute, and the train was movings lowly out of the station, while the two young people continued their cross-examination, confronting each other from their separate corners. 

"This is an unexpected visit, is it not? I understood from Miss Ramsdenthat she expected you to call at the Manor to-day or to-morrow. "

(Cornelia scored a point against him, for his own desertion, in the faceof so interesting a prospect!)

"Vury unexpected! I got a wire from a friend and came off within twohours. I understood from Mrs Greville that _you_ were making quite agood stay?"

Guest grimaced eloquently. 

"I was--but--circumstances alter cases! To tell you the honest truth, Miss Briskett, I'm just a bit fed up with playing gooseberry by day, andpiquet (with Madame!) by night, and the idea of spending a few days atthe club presented itself as an agreeable novelty. My friends arealmost all in town just now, and there is a good deal going on. Igenerally put in a week or so of the season, so I thought I might aswell clear out at once. They don't want me here!"

"I don't know about that, " returned Cornelia, thoughtfully. "What aboutMadame? _Someone's_ got to keep her occupied! What's to happen to herin the evenings now? There'll be nothing for it but a three-handedgame, and that's the limit! If you'd been a kind, self-sacrificingfriend, you'd have stayed on, and worked that piquet for all you wereworth!"

"But I'm not self-sacrificing, you see!" Captain Guest explained, andin truth he did not look it. Cornelia's glance took in the magnificentproportions of the man, the indefinable air of birth and breeding, thefaultless toilette; the strong, dark features. To one and all she paida tribute of admiration, but the expression on the face was ofconcentrated self-sufficiency. At this point admiration stopped dead, to be replaced by an uneasy dread. Was Geoffrey Greville, even as hisfriend, frankly indifferent to everything but his own amusement, and ifso, what of poor Elma and her dream? It was an awful reflection that insuch a case she herself would be largely responsible for thrusting Elmainto danger. Her expression clouded, and she stared through the windowwith unseeing eyes. Captain Guest's words had been so exceedingly plainthat she had not affected to misunderstand their meaning, and the iceonce broken, she was glad of the opportunity of solving her doubts. 

"You know Mr Greville very well. Is he--a flirt?"

Captain Guest flashed a glance at her; a rapid, understanding glance. 

"He has been, " he replied quietly. "A desperate flirt; but--he is notflirting now!"

"You think--"

"I'm sure!"

Cornelia clasped her hands with a sigh of relief. 

"Then--?"

"The Deluge!"

"You mean--?"

"He can't marry her, of course! She's a lovely girl, and everythingthat's nice, and good, and that kind of thing, but--not at all the kindof girl he ought to marry. "

"Ought he to marry someone hideous then, with an ugly temper? Poorfellow! Why?"

"There's no necessity to be hideous, that I know of, though as a matterof fact he probably won't find a girl suitable as to means and position, who is anything like so attractive, personally, as Miss Ramsden. Greville is hardly his own master, Miss Briskett. He is not a rich man, and he has the place to think of. Besides, there's Madame to consider. Madame belongs to a noble house, and has high ideas for her son. "

"Is it the custom over here, for the mommas to choose wives for theirsons? I don't know much about Mr Greville, but from the look of him Ishouldn't suppose he was one of that sort. He has a kind of an air asif he'd want a lot of moving, once he got his head set! If he reallycares--"

Captain Guest shrugged expressively. 

"Oh, for the moment, of course, it's a case of `all for love, and theworld well lost, ' but in a few days' time Miss Ramsden will return home;they will drop out of each other's lives, and then prudence will come tothe fore. There's a girl whom he has known for years, who is built forhim all the way round. I don't say he'll like it so much, but he'll endby marrying her like a good boy. "

"By marrying her money, you mean to say? I see, we Americans aren't theonly mercenary nation in the world, though we get the credit for itsometimes. Well! I'll wait a while, before I judge. There comes atime in most men's lives when they forget their fine principles, and seejust one thing ahead, _and they've got to have it_! Everything elsegoes down like ninepins, even if it's a real stately old mother, withher hair fixed-up like Marie Antoinette. We'll wait and see if thattime comes along for Mr Greville!"

Guest's lip twitched with amusement. 

"You seem to be very experienced on the subject. "

"I am so. I've seen quite a good deal of life, " said Cornelia, with theair of a female Methuselah. She did not smirk nor giggle at theinsinuation, but accepted it placidly as a matter of course, anoccurrence of everyday happening. 

Guest studied her critically, as she gazed out of the window. Was sheplain, or beautiful? It was difficult to say. The colourlesscomplexion, and sharply pointed nose were serious blemishes, but themouth was exquisite, and the hair a marvel. How Rossetti would havegloried in painting it, unbound, with the great red-gold waves floatingover her shoulders! The eyes were good, too, despite their unusualcolour--the colour of a tawny old sherry!

As though attracted by his scrutiny, Cornelia turned her head, and letthe golden eyes dwell thoughtfully upon his face. 

"Does Mr Greville do anything?" she inquired. "Has he any sort ofoccupation in life?"

"He has a certain amount of business in connection with the property, but the agent does most of that. He hunts, of course, and shoots--he'sa capital shot--and fishes at odd times. All the ordinary things that aman does. "

"Is that so? They wouldn't be ordinary with us. I like a man to work. _You've_ got to work hard, I suppose? You're a soldier. "

The quick pucker of lips and brows were almost startlingly eloquent ofpain. 

"Not now! I was. "

"You retired?"

"Yes. "

"Why?"

Rupert Guest looked across the carriage in silence. At any time he washaughtily resentful of curiosity; but on this subject most of all hecould not endure to speak with his most intimate friends. His firstimpulse was to ignore the question, but as he met Cornelia's steady eyesthat impulse underwent an extraordinary reversion. Incredible as itmight appear, he became conscious that it was not only possible that hecould tell this girl, this stranger, the hidden sorrow of his life, butthat he actually wished to tell it! He wanted to hear what she wouldsay; to see how she would look. Those childlike eyes would look verybeautiful, softened with the light of sympathy and consolation. Hewanted to see that light shining for his sake. 

"It's a long story, " he began slowly, "I don't talk of it more than Ican help, but I'll tell you, if you care to hear it. I come of a raceof soldiers: it never entered my head that I could be anything else. Myfather was in the Lancers; he died before I left Sandhurst, but mymother managed to allow me fifteen hundred a year, and I joined myfather's regiment. I was lucky as things go; went through twoengagements before I was thirty; gained distinction at Omdurman. Athome I had a nailing good time: Adjutant of the regiment. We had thejolliest mess! I don't think a man ever lived who enjoyed his lifemore. There was lots of play, but I loved the work too, and studiedhard, at every branch of the profession. I had the credit of being oneof the best all-round men in the service. " He laughed; a hard, sore-hearted laugh. "I can say that now without reproach, for it belongs toanother life. . .. Then--my mother died! She had been living beyond herincome, and there were all the legal expenses to face; selling up at aloss; giving the girls their share. She had made a special push to keepme in the old regiment; but in the end it came down to this, that inall, there was barely five hundred a year for me. It was a big blow, but there was nothing for it but to send in my resignation. "

"Why?"

"One can't be an officer in a crack cavalry regiment with only fivehundred a year beyond his pay, Miss Briskett. It can't be done. Therewasn't one of my subs, who had less than eight hundred. "

"Don't you get any pay at all in your army then?"

"Certainly; about enough to pay the mess bills, and perhaps the changesof kit. The uniform costs several hundreds to start with, and thosefools at the War Office are everlastingly ordering senselessalterations. "

"Yes; but--I don't understand! If the pay is enough for your keep, whydo you need such a heap more to get along? Where does all the expensecome in?"

Guest knitted his brows in momentary embarrassment. 

"Well, of course, there are certain things that a man must do to live upto his position. He must entertain; he must hunt; he must play polo. It comes cheaper to him than ordinary men, for he has the use of theregimental stables; but still, things run up. It's astonishing how they_do_ run up! There are a hundred things that are _expected_ of him, andthere's no getting away from them. "

"Isn't he expected first thing of all to serve his country?"

"That is, of course!" Guest raised his head proudly. "I have alreadyexplained that I _had_ served her. "

"Wouldn't they let you go on then, because you couldn't cut a dash?"

"_Let_ me! There wasn't a man in the mess who didn't beg me to stay on!The Duke sent for me, and argued for half an hour. He promised me astaff appointment. He said some awfully decent things about my pastservices. I was glad of that. .. I said, `It's no good, sir, I can'tface the prospect of being Colonel of the regiment, and not being ableto afford as much as my own subs. ' We went over it again and again, andhe lost his temper at last and called me a fool, but I stuck to it--"

Cornelia drew a sharp breath of excitement. 

"You _did_ resign--for money? In spite of all! For only that?"

"It's a very big `only, ' Miss Briskett. You don't know how it feels tohave your income suddenly reduced by two-thirds. "

"Oh, don't I just! I know how it feels to have it wiped clean away. Iguess my Poppar's dropped about as much in one slump as any man in theStates!" cried Cornelia, with the true American's pride in size, be itfor good or ill. She did not feel it necessary to state that the lostfortune had been more than retrieved, for one of the very few points onwhich she found herself in complete agreement with her aunt, was thesuppression of her own wealth. She had no wish to be judged from amonetary standpoint, and Poppar's fame had not travelled across theocean. He was just an ordinary everyday millionaire, with a modestlittle income of from three to four hundred a day; not a real, genuinehigh-flyer, with a thousand an hour!

"I had to give up my frills and fixings, but I held on like grim deathto the things that mattered. --I guess there's something wrong about yourarmy, if a man's got to have a fortune before he can be an officer!"

"A good many people are with you there, Miss Briskett, but unfortunatelythat does not alter the fact. "

"Then--what did you do after that?"

"Cleared out! I sold my uniform for eighty pounds!"--he laughed again, the same sore laugh--"and gave my orderly about a dozen suits ofordinary clothes. The only thing I kept was my sword. I had ten swordshung on my walls, used by ten generations in succession--I couldn't givethat up. . .. An old chum was going out ranching to the wildest part ofCalifornia. He asked me to come with him, and I jumped at it. I wantedto get out of the country--away from it all. If I'd seen the regimentriding through the streets, I should have gone mad! . .. We sailedwithin a few weeks. .. "

"_California_!" Cornelia's face was eloquent with meaning. She hadseen a regiment of Lancers riding through the streets of London on theone day which she had spent in the metropolis; had stood to stare open-mouthed, even as the crowd who thronged the pavement. She recalled thefigure of the officer, a gorgeous, mediaeval knight, impenetrablylifeless, sitting astride his high horse like a figure of bronze; aglimpse of haughty, set features visible between cap and chin-strap. Outwardly immovable, indifferent; but within!--ah! within, beyond adoubt, a swelling pride in himself, in his men, in the noble animalswhich bore them; in the consciousness that every day the pageantattracted the same meed of admiration; pride in the consciousness thathe represented his King, his Empire, the power of the sword! Cornelia, a stranger and a Republican, had thrilled at the sight of the gallantLancers, and--she had visited the wilds of California also, and hadreceived hospitality at a lonely ranch! There was a husky note in hervoice as she spoke again. 

"How long were you there?"

"Three years. "

"Did you--hate it very much?"

The laugh this time was more strangled than before. 

"Twice over I came within an inch of shooting myself! We were twentymiles from the nearest neighbour. My friend went his way; I went mine. For days together we hardly exchanged a word. There was nothing but thegreat stretch of land, and the Rockies in the distance. In time onegets to think them beautiful, but at first. .. I used to sit and thinkof home, and the regiment. It was _always_ with me. I used to say tomyself: `Now they are at mess--Now the horses are coming out of thestables--Now they are turning out for polo!' I could hear the drum, andthe reveille, and the last post. . .. As clearly as in the barracks athome, I heard them!" . .. 

He stopped short, turning his eyes from the window to look at Cornelia'sface. It was distorted, quivering, with emotion; her hands were claspedtogether, and down her cheek rolled two tear-drops, unashamed. Heturned sharply aside, and for some moments neither spoke. Cornelia wasseeing, as in a picture, the lonely ranch, with the solitary figure, sitting with his face towards the East, thinking, thinking. . .. Guestwas reflecting with amaze on the strange antic of fate, which ordainedthat it should be in the eyes of this Yankee stranger that he should seethe first woman's tears shed on his behalf! She cried like a child;simply, involuntarily, without thought of appearance; the tears risingfrom a pure well of sympathy. To the end of his life he would bless herfor those tears!

The train slackened and drew up at a country station. A stout, elderlylady approached the carriage, glanced from one to the other of the twooccupants, and hastily moved on. Cornelia smiled, with the tears wet onher lashes. Again the wheels began to move, and Guest said shortly--

"Thank you for your sympathy! I had a feeling that you wouldunderstand--that's why I told you. It's not a story that I often tellto strangers, as you may guess. "

"My, yes, I sympathise; I should just think I do. I know what even ourown people suffer sometimes away out West; but I don't _understand_, "said Cornelia, firmly. "I don't understand--one--little--bit! There'smore to soldiering than riding through the streets, looking fine andlarge, and gotten up like a show. I love to see it. We profess tolaugh at forms and ceremonies, but we love them just the same as anybodyelse, but it was your _country_ you'd promise to serve! For better orworse you allowed you were sworn to serve her. You had risked your lifefor her; I reckon you had shed your blood. There was just one thing youwouldn't sacrifice--your own pride! You were thinking of _yourself_when you sent in that resignation, Captain Guest! You saw yourselfsitting looking out of the window, and seeing the boys riding off totheir sports, and leaving you behind. You cared more for that, than thethought that England might need you!"

"You hit hard, Miss Briskett. "

"I hit straight. I know just how you've suffered. Seems to me I'mgoing to remember all my life how you sat in that ranch and heard thelast post; but if I'd been in your place, if America had wanted me"--hersmall, white face lit up with a very ecstasy of emotion--"I'd havestayed at my post, _if I'd had to sweep the floors to do it_!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

The moment of tension passed, and the strain relaxed. Captain Gueststoutly defended his position, and Cornelia vouchsafed a generoussympathy, while not budging an inch from her ultimate decision. Shedisapproved, but she had wept; the tears had rolled unchecked down hercheeks on his behalf. After that they could no longer be mere, casualacquaintances. 

By the end of the first hour they had left the personal element behind, and were chatting busily about a dozen varying subjects--the Englishlandscape; Trusts; Free Trade; Miss Alice Roosevelt; chafing dishes, andthe London season. Cornelia had a cut-and-dried opinion on each, andwas satisfied that every one who did not agree with her was a "backnumber, " but her arguments and illustrations were so apt and humorous, that Guest was abundantly entertained. Throughout the entire journeytheir _tete-a-tete_ was uninterrupted, for though several passengersapproached the carriage with intent to enter, one and all followed theexample of the stout lady, and dropped the handle at sight of the twooccupants. The third time that this interesting little pantomime wasenacted Cornelia laughed aloud, and cried serenely--

"Guess they think we're a honeymoon couple; they're so scared of gettingin beside us!"

Her colour showed not the faintest variation as she spoke. It was Guestwho grew hot and embarrassed, and was at a loss how to reply. He neednot have troubled himself, however, for Cornelia continued herexposition touching the superiority of American everything, over themiserable imitations of other countries, with hardly as much as acomma's pause for breath. 

Guest sat back in his corner, looking at her with every appearance ofattention, but in reality his thoughts were engaged in following abewildering suggestion. 

"They think we are a honeymoon couple. " . .. Suppose--it was folly, ofcourse, but for one moment, _suppose they were_! He would be looking athis wife! She would smile across at him, and call him fond, sillylittle names. He would kiss her--she had beautiful lips to kiss! andhold her hand--it was a soft little hand to hold, and tease her abouther shaded hair, and her sharp little nose, and her ridiculous, pointedshoes! They would get out at the terminus, but instead of bidding eachother a polite good-bye, would drive off together in a fly, discussingjoint plans for the evening. Later on they would have dinner at alittle table in the great dining-hall of the hotel, criticising theirneighbours, and laughing at their peculiarities. In the theatre theywould whisper together, and when the curtain went up on the heels of acritical moment, he would see the tear-drops shining once more on herlashes. --It was a lonely business going off to a man's club, wherenobody wanted you, or cared a brass farthing whether you came or went. Not that for a moment he wished to be married--least of all to CorneliaBriskett. There were a dozen things about her which jarred on hisnerves, and offended his ideas of good taste. He objected to heraccent, her unconventional expressions, her little tricks of manner;while on almost every subject her point of view appeared to bediametrically opposed to his own. In her company he would be oftenjarred, annoyed, and discomfited, but of a certainty he would never bebored! Rapidly reviewing his life for the last few years, it appearedto Guest that he had existed in a chronic state of boredom. If "we werea honeymoon couple, " that dreariness at least would come to an end!

He looked at Cornelia's ungloved left hand resting upon the darkcushions--she wore a ring, a wide, flat band of gold, with one finediamond standing far out, in a claw setting. American ladies affectsolitaire rings, as tokens of betrothal--did this mean that thehoneymooning question was already settled? If it were so, the factwould account for the girl's absence of embarrassment in his owncompany; all the same, he did not believe it, for there was in hermanner a calm, virginal composure, an absence of sentimentality, whichseemed to denote that the citadel had not yet been stormed. 

Cornelia noted his gaze, without in the least guessing its meaning. 

"It was the other wrist that was sprained-- The right one!" she said, holding it up as she spoke, and carefully moving it to and fro. "It'sheaps better, thanks to you. I set Mury to rub it, according toinstructions, and--there you are! It's most as well as the other. "

"Ready to shake hands, now?"

"Oh, yes. "

"Mentally, as well as physically?"

The white teeth showed in a smile of comprehension. 

"I--guess so! I never was one to harbour animosity. "

"I am glad of that! You bade me such a frigid good-bye on Thursdayafternoon that I was afraid you had taken a violent dislike to me. "

"My stars and stripes, that's pretty calm! What about _you_, I beg toask?" Cornelia rolled indignant eyes to the hanging lamp. "I didn'thev to think; I _heard_ from your own lips what you thought about _me_!I couldn't rest easy in my bed, for fear you went home and did away withMr Greville, for making you drive me home. I never supposed I shouldlive to endoor the degradation of having a man do things for me againsthis will, but I had to come to England to find my mistake. And then yousit there and accuse me of disliking you!--Well!!!"

Guest flushed with embarrassment; with something deeper thanembarrassment; with honest shame. He clasped his hands between hisknees, and bent forward eagerly. 

"You are quite right, Miss Briskett, there is no excuse for me. Ibehaved like a cad. Things got me on the raw, somehow. I imagined--allsorts of things which weren't true! That's no excuse, I know. I shouldhave controlled myself better. But if I was annoyed at starting on thatdrive, I was far more so when it came to an end. You had your revenge!And you don't deny that you disliked me in return. "

"I did so! I did heaps more than that. I thought you just thehatefullest person I'd ever met. "

"And now?"

Cornelia laughed easily. 

"Oh, well--we've had a pretty good time together, haven't we? We canlet bygones be bygones. You're English--vurry, vurry English, but Iguess you're nice!"

"What do you mean by English?" But even as he put the question CaptainGuest straightened himself, and reared his neck within his stiff, upstanding collar, with that air of ineffable superiority which marksthe Englishman in his intercourse with "inferior" nations. Cornelialaughed, a full-throated ha-ha of amusement. 

"It's `English'! There's no other word to it. You are about as Englishat this moment as you've been in the whole of your life. --I guess wemust be getting pretty near London now, for I ken see nothing butsmoke. "

"Yes, we are nearly there. Will you--may I call at your hotel some day, on the chance of finding you in?"

"Why, suttenly! I'd love to have you. You could take me round. If theMoffatts have fixed-up a dinner for themselves, some night, we might goto a theatre together!"

"Um--yes!" Guest surveyed her with doubtful eyes. "I suppose it wouldbe easy enough to find some other lady to play chaperon. "

"I don't want a chaperon. Why should I? It's no fun having her pokinground, and listening to every word one says. It's ever so much niceralone. "

"I don't doubt it, but--in Rome one must do as the Romans do, MissBriskett! In England a man does not take a girl to a theatreunchaperoned. It's not the thing. "

"I don't care a mite. It's the custom with us, anyway, and there's nocountry in the world where women are more respected. What's the harm, Iwant to know!"

"No harm at all. That's not the question. It's simply not the custom. "

"Do you mean to say you refuse to take me alone, even if I ask you?"

"I do!"

"Then you're a mean old thing, and I shan't go at all!"

Guest laughed; an amused little laugh, in which there was an unwontedsoftness. Somehow, he quite enjoyed being called "a mean old thing" byCornelia Briskett. There was an intimacy in the sound, which more thannullified the disparagement. 

"I think you will! You are too `straight' to punish me for what is notmy fault. It would be much more amusing for me to take you aboutunattended, and so far as I'm concerned, I can afford to ignoreconventions. A man can do as he likes. It is you I am thinking of. You may not approve of our ideas, but that does not alter theirexistence, or the fact that whip; you are here you must be judged bythem. You would not like to be considered careless of your reputation?"

"I don't care a mite what the old fossils, think. "

"_I_ do, then; and I will take no part in putting you in a falseposition. "

Cornelia pouted, but in her heart admired his firmness, as any womanwould. She stared at the forest of chimney-tops without speaking, forseveral minutes, then suddenly turned towards him, speaking in what wasevidently supposed to be a lifelike imitation of the English accent, asspoken by the Lady of the Manor. 

"Th-anks; aw-fly tha-anks! How varry kind! I shall be charmed. . .. Too aw-fly sweet of you, don't-cher-know!"

"That's all right!" laughed Guest, happily. "We'll manage to enjoyourselves, never fear! There's such a thing as taking _two_ chaperonsand letting them play with each other. . .. Here we are at Paddington. Are your friends coming to meet you?"

"They are. I guess they'll be waiting on the platform. She's tall andfine-looking, and dresses fit to kill--"

She paused with a sharp little intake of breath, for the train, as itsnorted into the station, had passed by the figure of a woman standingconspicuously alone--a tall woman, with hair of a violent peroxide gold, holding up an elaborate white gown, to display a petticoat of flouncedpink silk. It was Cornelia's first introduction to Mrs Moffatt in"shore clothes, " and to an eye accustomed to Norton simplicity thevision was sufficiently startling. Also--it was hateful to think suchthings--but, that hair! On the steamer it had been just an ordinarybrown!

Cornelia would have died rather than own it, but she felt a qualm. Onthe platform she saw other ladies standing waiting the arrival of thetrain; smart, well-dressed, even golden-headed ladies not a few, butnone in the least resembling Mrs Silas P Moffatt. A swift desire arosethat Guest might depart before her hostess made her way through thecrowd, followed by a resigned recollection that that would be of noavail, since the two were bound to meet sooner or later. She steppedout of the carriage, keeping her head turned in an opposite direction, but almost immediately a crisp rustling of skirts, a strong odour ofviolette de parme, and a loud--"Say! is that you?" proclaimed that thesearch was at an end. 

Cornelia forced a smile to her lips, and acknowledged her identity insuitable terms, and Mrs Moffatt gushed over her, in a Yankee accent, strong enough to cut with a knife, casting the while, arch, questioningglances in Guest's direction. Cornelia suffered qualm number two. Evento her ears, the tone of her friend's voice sounded unduly loud andnasal, and looking from her to her late travelling companion, itappeared that to be "English" need not be invariably a disadvantage. Ofcourse, Mrs Moffatt was not a good type of American; she belonged tothe class who brought that honourable title into disrepute. How was itthat she herself had hitherto been blind to peculiarities which nowaroused an instant prejudice?

"Don't you want to introduce me to your friend, dear? I never cameacross such a girl. Someone flying around after you wherever you go!"cried Mrs Moffatt, genially, and Cornelia mumbled the necessary words, with an unusual display of embarrassment. She dared not look at theexpression of Guest's face, and his cool, easy voice gave no hint of hisreal feelings. She turned aside to give instructions to a porter, whileher ears strained to catch every word which passed between hercompanions. Mrs Moffatt was talking about her, gushing over her, infulsome phrases. Cornelia this! Cornelia that! What business had sheto use that name, anyway? She had never received permission to do so. It was impertinent to assume such an air of familiarity!

The three made their way together towards the luggage van, whereCornelia claimed her two big boxes, and saw them hoisted on the top of afour-wheeler. The elation of ten minutes back had died a sudden death, and she felt depressed and lonesome. Among all the crowd no one seemeda greater stranger than this woman by her side; in comparison with her, Captain Guest appeared an old and proven friend. She raised her eyes tohis, as the cabman busily strapped the last box to the roof, and foundhis eyes fixed on her face with a very grave scrutiny. She did not knowhow pale and dejected was her own appearance, how different from thejaunty self-confidence of an hour before; but Guest had been keen tonotice the quickly succeeding expressions, and was saying to himself:"She is upset. Something is different from what she expected. It's abad lookout for her with that terrible woman, but she must have knownher before. " . .. 

Mrs Moffatt glanced from one to the other, giggled meaningly, andstepped into the cab. They were alone; as much alone in the midst ofthe noise and confusion, as in the quiet of the railway carriage. 

"Well, " said Guest, regretfully; "I suppose I must say good-bye! I'llcome round soon to see how you are getting along, and--Miss Briskett, here is my card. --It gives the address of my club. If you should needme for anything, at any time, ring me up! You will promise, won't you?I could be with you in a few minutes. "

Cornelia smiled faintly. 

"Oh, thanks; I don't know about _needing_. Mr Moffatt will be round tolook after us, but--Norton's my only home over here, and you seem like abit of it! I'll be real glad to see you. "

She held out her hand to him; he held it for a moment in a tight, protective grasp, then took off his hat to Mrs Moffatt, and turnedaway. Twenty yards farther on the cab passed him, and he caught anotherglimpse of the two faces; one small and white, the other heavy inoutline, and suspiciously blue-pink as to cheeks. 

"Thank heaven, I came up!" said Captain Guest to himself. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

Cornelia was surprised to find that her friends were not already housedat the Ritz, but had been staying at a private hotel, in a dull sidestreet, where the cab called on the way from the station, to take up apile of luggage lying ready packed in the hall. 

"The fashionable hotels are all crowded out in the season, " Mrs Moffattexplained. "We've had our names down for ages at the Ritz, but it wasimpossible to get in before to-day. I don't know as we should havemanaged even now, if it hadn't been for you, dear. It worked wonderswhen we said you would be one of the party. You don't mind having yourname mentioned, do you? You've just got to play up to these managers, if you don't want to be put off for ever, or poked away in a back room. "

"Oh, I don't mind, " said Cornelia, easily. "If my name is of any use, use it for all you're worth. I shouldn't have supposed anyone wouldknow it over here. They don't in Norton. "

"My dear, the hotel is crammed full of Americans, and any one of themwould say it was poor business to refuse the daughter of Edward BBriskett. The connection might be worth a heap, if you went home andallowed you were satisfied. Silas don't count for anything--he's nopush! We might have waited for ever if it had been left to him!"

To judge by the hangdog expression of the said Silas as he came forwardto greet his guest at the door of the Ritz, the success attending hiswife's manoeuvres had not inspired him with any particular joy. Cornelia thought he looked more henpecked than ever, but he received herwarmly, and hovered round to assist with the smaller impedimenta, whilehis wife hurried forward into the hotel. Inside all was brightness andgaiety; little parties of visitors grouped here and there about thelarge, light hall; obsequious clerks bowing before one, hoping that therooms reserved might give satisfaction; begging to be informed if anycomfort were lacking; summoning waiters to show the way to the lift. Cornelia was annoyed to notice that most of these attentions weredirected towards herself, but as Mrs Moffatt did not appear to takeumbrage, it seemed wisest to make no protest. The mistake was notlikely to occur again, for with so many guests in the house, individualattention could not extend beyond the arrival civilities. 

Tea was served in the Empire suite, which had been reserved for theparty, and Cornelia hated herself for feeling so little in sympathy witha host and hostess whose one anxiety seemed to be to provide for herenjoyment. From a printed list of amusements, she was bidden to makeher choice for every evening in the week; for the afternoons, river-picnics were suggested, coaching expeditions to outlying scenes ofinterest, drives in the Park. For the mornings--well, naturally, therewas just one thing to be done in the morning, and that was shopping!

"I hope you've brought up heaps of money, my dear. You'll need it. Thethings are just heavenly this season!" Mrs Moffatt declared, butCornelia remained unfired. 

"I've a circular note; it's all right so far as that goes, but I shan'twant any more clothes for ages! I brought over a whole trousseau, andso far as I can see, the half will go back unpacked. They don't dressdown at Norton--they _clothe_! You've got to be covered right up to thechin, and to work in all the blue serge you can, and that's about allthere is to it. If you fixed-up like we do at home, you'd make as muchstir as the fire-engine. I'd like to mail a few presents, if I sawanything really new and snappy, but I shan't go near a store formyself. "

"I shall, then!" cried Mrs Moffatt, laughing. "I got next to nothingin Paris. The shops over there aren't a patch on London, in my opinion, and the language puts one off. I can't get the hang of it, and it getson my nerves fitting on clothes, and not being able to find fault. You'll have to come round with me, Cornelia. I've been waiting till youcame, to decide on heaps of things. You've got such lovely taste. Silas wants to give me some furs, and I've seen an emerald necklace thatI'm bound to have if I'm to know another happy moment. I've been intwice to see it, and I guess the man's beginning to weaken. It wouldpay him to let me have it at a reduction, rather than keep it lyingidle. You shall come with me, and say what you think it's worth; butmind, I'm to have the first chance! You mustn't try to snap it up. Afew hundred dollars don't matter to you one way or the other, but I'vegot to worry round to make the money go as far as it will. It's notthat Silas wants to stint me; he's not that sort, but he hasn't thebalance behind him your father has!"

Silas smiled in sickly acknowledgment of his wife's consideration, fidgeted in his seat, and finally took himself downstairs, to see aboutsecuring theatre tickets, whereupon his wife heaved a sigh of relief, and helped herself to a fresh cup of tea. 

"Thank goodness! I ken't stand men in the daytime. They don't take anyinterest in clothes or parcels, or trying-on, but kinder hang round, looking bored and superior! It gets on my nerves. . .. That was a realsmart-looking man you had with you to-day, dear. Guest? did you say--Captain Guest? English, isn't he? Acts as though he'd got the patent, and everybody else was imitation. I rather like it myself, I don'tthink anything of a man who takes a back seat. " The short, impatientlittle sigh was evidently dedicated to the memory of the absent Silas. . .. "Where did you pick him up, dear? He seems very devoted. Anythingcoming on between you?"

Cornelia's "No!" made the listener start in her seat, so loud was it, sostern, so eloquent of displeasure. She herself was astonished at thewhite heat of anger which possessed her as she listened to MrsMoffatt's questionings. "Picked him up, " indeed! What insolence; whatvulgarity! What an indignity to speak of him in such words. Herindignation seemed almost as much on Guest's account as her own. Avision of his face rose before her, she seemed to see the curl of thelip, the droop of the eyelid with which he would have greeted such anexpression. 

"No! Suttenly not! He is the merest acquaintance. There is not evenan ordinary friendship between us. I may very probably never meet himagain. "

"Is that so?" queried Mrs Moffatt, calmly. As the Captain had himselfannounced his intention of calling at the hotel, the only effect ofCornelia's violence was to deepen the impression that there was"something in it, " but she was too diplomatic to pursue the subject. Instead, she prattled on about a dozen inconsequent topics, and finallysuggested a drive in the Park before dinner. 

"It will freshen you up after your journey, and there's nothing else todo for the next two hours. Just ring, will you, dear, and makearrangements, while I write a few notes in my room. A victoria, or amotor, whichever you prefer, and in about half-an-hour. That will giveus time to prink. " She rustled out of the room, and Cornelia rang andgave the order, only too thankful to avoid a prolonged _tete-a-tete_indoors. Once again she wondered how it had come to pass that she hadbecome on intimate terms with this woman, who now jarred upon her atevery turn. On board the steamer her own friends had scarcely lefttheir state-rooms during the voyage, and Mrs Moffatt, in a neat tweedcostume, and an enveloping blue veil, had played the part of ministeringangel with much devotion, during three dreary days, when she herself hadlain on a chair in a sheltered corner of the deck; had read aloud, repeated amusing little anecdotes about the passengers, taken her forconstitutionals up and down, and even helped her to bed at night. WhenLiverpool was reached, it seemed as if they had known one another foryears. They had kissed at parting, and mutually agreed to meet, andhave a good time. 

"Shucks!" cried Cornelia, mentally. "It's that old Norton! I've gottenso used to dowds, that the sight of a Paris gown scares me all intofits. I've looked forward to coming to London all my life, and now I'mhere, I'm going to enjoy myself all I know. Now then, for the Park! Iguess that grey crepe, and the hat with the white feathers, will beabout the best I can do for the honour of the flag. You've got tostrike a balance, my dear, and plump for neutral colours as long as yourun in harness with Mrs Silas P Moffatt!"

That first drive in Hyde Park was a pleasant experience, though thetrees looked grey and dusty, after the fresh green of the country. Cornelia, like most of her sisters, had, as a first object, to see thepeople, not the Park itself, and certainly they were worth the seeing. There is no place in the world where finer specimens of humanity can beseen than in Hyde Park on the afternoon of a bright June day. Corneliaadmired the tall, immaculately-groomed men, the dainty, high-bredlooking women, with their air of indolent grace. They did not look asif they were enjoying themselves particularly, but she enjoyed, lookingat them, and honestly acknowledged the presence of a certain qualityunowned by herself. "They've got a far-off look, as if they couldn'tsee anything nearer than a hundred miles, and were scared to laugh, incase they might break! . .. I guess it's what they call `_breed_!'Captain Guest's got it, too. We've not much use for that kind of thingat home, but it--counts! If you'd been used to it all your life, itwould be a jar to step down. .. "

Mrs Moffatt knew a great many people by sight, and pointed them out asthey drove by. Lady this, the Countess of that, Mrs Blank, who wrotesociety novels, and was noted for her taste in dress, the beautiful MissDash. --"Not that I can see much beauty in her myself. She's not a patchon you, when you're in form!" Cornelia felt a girl's natural pleasurein the compliment, in the truth of which she complacently agreed. Shedid not envy Miss Dash her looks, but she did emphatically envy her herfriends, particularly her male friends, who clustered around hercarriage, eager for a word. One felt decidedly out of it, drivingthrough a crowd of strangers, not one of whom turned a welcoming smilein your direction, nor cared whether you came or went. At home, Cornelia was accustomed to be in the midst of all that was going on, acentral figure, round which all the rest revolved. She did not at allappreciate being relegated to the position of regarding the fray fromthe vantage of a hired vehicle!

Cornelia craned her head to right and to left, scanning the passingcrowd for a familiar face. It seemed impossible that among hundreds ofpeople there should not be someone whom she recognised, and her faithwas justified, for just at the bend near the Marble Arch, she had apassing glimpse of Guest's tall figure, standing talking to two ladies, one middle-aged, the other young, and graceful, and smiling. They werequietly, even simply, attired, but their whole air and carriage breathedthat indefinable something which she had just struggled to define:something diametrically different from the ostentatious display of thewoman by her side. Theoretically, Cornelia was thankful to escapeobservation; in reality she felt an absurd pang of loneliness anddisappointment, as the carriage bore her out of sight. 

The evening was spent at a theatre, and by eleven o'clock next morningboth ladies had started forth on one of the shopping expeditions, whichseemed to constitute Mrs Moffatt's chief pleasure in life. They drovefirst of all to the jeweller's, where Cornelia was shown the emeraldnecklace, a wonderful collection of stones, in an antique setting, withwhich she herself promptly fell in love. The price was excessive, evenfor her own deep purse, and she concluded that Mr Moffatt's means mustbe even larger than she had imagined, since his wife seriouslycontemplated such a purchase. There was a good deal of bargaining, half-serious, half-joking, between Mrs Moffatt and the very imposing-looking personage behind the counter, but fortified by the advent ofanother possible purchaser, the latter steadily refused to reduce hisprice, and once again Mrs Moffatt retired discomfited from thestruggle. 

"I know just how it will be, " she cried, "I'll have to give it up, andthen you'll step in, and carry it off before my eyes! But you've got towait a bit, till I see what I can do with Silas. I'm not going to giveup yet awhile. "

Cornelia laughed easily. "Oh, I'll play fair. If you give up the idea, I daresay Poppar'd let me have it. He says emeralds suit me better thanany other stones; but I shan't break my heart, one way or the other. ". .. Then addressing the shopman: "Have you got anything really new andtasty for little presents? I might as well look round while I'm here. "

Then followed a delightful hour, from the shopkeeper's point of view, atleast, when Cornelia examined the contents of tray after tray, andselected "little presents" to the value of a cool hundred pounds: an oldpearl and enamel solitaire stud for her father; a hat-pin composed of abig turquoise, and a selection of dainty, jewelled brooches and banglesfor special girl friends. 

"I'll give you the addresses, and you'd better mail them from here. Idon't know how you fix up things to travel safely from this side, butyou can do all that's necessary. I'll give you a cheque and you needn'tsend them out till you see that it's all right. I'm a stranger to you, and can't expect you to trust me right away, but you'll find the money'sthere!"

"Well, I should think your name's good enough! No one need feartrusting your father's daughter for a few hundred dollars!" MrsMoffatt protested, while the shopman waxed eloquent in protestation. Cornelia continued to write addresses on the various boxes, withouttroubling to answer, for the assiduous manner in which her friendadvertised her parentage was already beginning to jar. First to thehotel officials; then to casual acquaintances during the evening, andnow to this tradesman! It was a disagreeable change from Norton, wherethe subject of money was never mentioned, and no one seemed to carewhether you were rich or poor. 

The whole morning was devoted to shopping; in the afternoon the twoladies went out driving, and returned to the hotel, to find CaptainGuest's card on the sitting-room table. 

"He has lost no time, anyhow!" said Mrs Moffatt, meaningly. 

"He has done the polite thing. Now he need not trouble any more, "Cornelia replied. On the whole, she was not sorry to have missed thecall. Conversation, with Mrs Moffatt as audience, would have beensomewhat of a strain!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

The Moffatts appeared to have few private friends in London, and to showno anxiety to add to their number. Though they displayed an insatiablecuriosity about everything which concerned their guest, they volunteeredvery little information in return, and after three days spent entirelyin their society, Cornelia knew little more about them than on the firstday of their meeting on shipboard. A mushroom city of the West figuredas "home, " in occasional references; but the wife frankly declared ahatred of domesticity, while the husband regretted that constant travelwas a necessity in his business. 

Evidently the present period was one of holiday-making, for Mr Moffattseemed to do nothing but hang about the hotel, playing odd games ofbridge or billiards with stray loafers like himself, and beingcorrespondingly elated or depressed as he won or lost. On the whole, Cornelia preferred him when he was depressed. Exuberance of spirits isapt to wax offensive when divorced from good taste. At times shefrankly disliked both husband and wife, and meditated an immediatereturn to Norton; but as a rule she was absorbed in the interest andcharm of the grey old city, which was so unlike anything she had yetvisited. It was like turning back a page of history, to see with herown eyes those historical landmarks, of which she had read sincechildhood; to drive about looking at the names of the streets, themonuments at the corners, the great, inky buildings. Visitors fromsunnier lands often take away from our capital an impression of gloomand ugliness, but Cornelia's artistic sense realised a picturesqueelement which rose superior to smoke and grime. She loved the narrow, irregular streets, the Turneresque haze which hung over the sky, even inthis fine summer weather. 

The City was a solemn land of work, but the West End was a fairy realmof luxury and pleasure. Flowers everywhere, stacked up in great pilesat the corners of the streets; hanging from window-boxes; massedtogether in the beds of the parks. The carriages blocked one another inthe narrow roads; the balconies were draped with awnings; gorgeously-clad flunkeys stood upon the doorsteps, ushering in long streams ofvisitors. In the City men worked for money; in the West End they threwit away, carelessly, heedlessly, as if it had been dross. The greathotels sheltered hives of strangers, who admired and criticised, enviedand scoffed, and flitted industriously about on the edge of the feast;on the edge, but never actually passing over the border!

On the fourth morning of her stay in town, a note, addressed in astrange handwriting, was brought to Cornelia, with her morning tea. Sheguessed at its authorship before opening the envelope, and reading thename "Rupert Guest, " at the end of the letter. "Rupert!" A good name, an appropriate name! Strong and manly, with an old-world echo ofdignity in the sound. One could not associate this man withabbreviations or nicknames. At work and at play, at home and abroad, hewould remain plain, unabbreviated "Rupert. " One doubted if even his ownmother ventured on a familiarity! Cornelia read the few lines withlively curiosity:--

 "Dear Miss Briskett, --I was disappointed to miss seeing you when I called at your hotel on Saturday. My aunt, Lady Seymour, is giving a reception to-morrow afternoon, and would be delighted to see you and your friends, if you have nothing better on hand. There ought to be some pretty good music. I will call at three o'clock, on the chance that you may care to come. --Yours faithfully, Rupert Guest. "

Enclosed was a formal card of invitation, dated from Grosvenor Gate, "Miss Briskett and party" written on the corner. 

Cornelia sat banked up against her pillows, her ruddy locks framing herlittle face in a glory of rippling curls and waves, her lips pursed inslow reflection. 

"No-o! I guess Miss Briskett and party would rather not! I don't seethe fun of squeezing in among a lot of grandees, who don't want anythingof us but just to quiz and stare, and make remarks. If he'd asked mealone, I'd have risked it, just to see how they manage their shows overhere; but he's too proper to take me without a chaperon, and . .. Well, anyway, the Moffatts are right-down good to me, and I'll have no hand inhaving them snubbed! Miss Briskett will politely refuse, and the partywon't have a chance of accepting, for they won't be told anything aboutit. I hate a fuss. "

Cornelia went downstairs, deciding to write a letter before going out, and post it to the club; but during breakfast Mrs Moffatt announcedwith profuse apologies that she and her husband were obliged to devotethe afternoon to visiting a friend living at some distance from town, and must therefore leave her to her own resources. Perhaps she wouldlike to do a little shopping on her own account, take a drive, or visita gallery! Cornelia, with a sudden rising of spirits, guessed she couldfind a dozen things to do, and bade her friends feel no anxiety on herscore. She wrote no letters that morning, but sallied forth on theinevitable shopping excursion, with a particularly gay and jaunty air, and an inclination to bubble into laughter on the slightest provocation, at which Mrs Moffatt exclaimed in envy--

"My, what spirits you do enjoy! I wish I could laugh like that. Somepeople have all the luck!" She sighed as she spoke, and Cornelia, glancing at her, caught a haggard look beneath the white veil. Itoccurred to her for the first time that her hostess was no longer young. She wondered how she would look at night, denuded of powder and rouge, and luxuriant golden locks? An elderly woman, thin and worn, with thecrow's feet deepening round her eyes. A woman whose life was spent inthe pursuit of personal gain, and who reaped in return the inevitableharvest of weariness and satiety. Cornelia was too happy to judge herharshly. She was sorry for her and made a point of being unusuallyamiable during the long hours of trailing about from shop to shop, whichwere beginning to be a severe tax on her patience. Mrs Moffatt neverseemed to make a purchase outright, but preferred to pay half a dozenvisits to a shop, trying on garment or ornament, as the case might be, haggling over the price, and throwing small sops to the vendor, in theshape of the purchase of insignificant trifles. 

Cornelia herself was tempted to buy a number of articles which sheneither needed nor knew exactly how to use, partly from want ofsomething to do while her companion was occupied, and partly from asense of shame, at giving so much trouble for nothing. Every day, also, boxes of fineries were sent "on approval, " to the hotel, so that oneseemed to live in a constant atmosphere of milliner's shop. Corneliawondered to what purpose was this everlasting dressing up. The dejectedSilas could hardly count as an audience, since he was the mostindifferent of husbands, and it seemed a poor reward for so much troubleto receive the passing glances of strangers. 

"I hope when I settle down, I'll have some real interest in life. I'lltake care that I have, too! I'd go crazed if there was nothing more toit than hanging round stores all the time, " said Cornelia to herself, asshe bade farewell to her friends after lunch, and settled herself with abook in the corner of the lounge, to await Guest's arrival. She waspleased at the prospect of meeting him again; mischievously amused atthe anticipation of his embarrassment when he found that her chaperonshad fled. It would be a delightful change to chat with him for half anhour, and when he departed to listen to the "pretty good music, " sheherself would get into a hansom and drive to Saint Paul's to listen tothe wonderful boys' voices chanting the evening service. Cathedralswere not included in the London known to Mrs Silas P Moffatt, butCornelia was determined not to leave the metropolis without visiting thegreat temple of the East. After four days of pure, undiluted Moffatt, she felt mentally and spiritually starved. It would be good to leavethe world and sit apart awhile beneath the great dome. .. 

At five minutes past three by the clock, Guest appeared in the doorwayof the hotel, made an inquiry of the porter, and was directed toCornelia's sheltered seat. She saw him cast a glance over her neat, walking costume, as he approached, and naughtily determined to prolonghis uncertainty. On her own side, she honestly admired his appearance;compared him to his advantage with the other men in the hall, and wasproud to welcome him as her friend. Her little, white face wassparkling with animation, as she held out her hand to greet him. 

"How d'you do, Captain Guest? It's real good of you to come again sosoon. I was sorry to miss you Saturday afternoon. "

"So was I. " Guest seated himself, and deposited his hat carefully byhis side. "I waited half an hour, and then gave it up, and went to loafin the Park. It's the only thing to do before dinner. "

"I saw you there, standing on the sidewalk talking to two ladies, an oldone, and a young one, as pretty as--"

"A moss rose!" he suggested quickly, and they laughed together over theremembrance. "Were you driving? I wish I had seen you! Is--er--MrsMoffatt quite well?"

"Puffectly, thank you, " said Cornelia, calmly. She noted the quickglance around, and wondered if he felt it compromising to sit with heralone, even in the publicity of a hotel lounge. "We drive mostafternoons, and go to the theatre every evening. I'm having a giddytime--just about as different from Norton as it's possible to imagine!Have you heard anything from the Manor? That wretched girl has neversent me as much as a postal, and I'm dying to hear what's going on. "

"No. I've heard nothing. I never for a moment expected that I should. Greville is too much engaged. " Guest knitted his brows, bitched histrousers at the knee, and cleared his throat uncertainly. Corneliadivined that he was waiting for her to refer to his aunt's invitation, and feeling somewhat at a loss to account for the severity of hercostume. At last the question came out suddenly. 

"Er--you got my note?"

"I did! I thank you for it. It was real kind of good to take thetrouble. I suppose you had to go and ask for those invitations?"

"I asked, of course, but my aunt was delighted to give them. It will bequite worth going to, I think--good music, and something of a function!You would enjoy seeing the people. I hope you are not going to say thatyou can't come!"

"What makes you think that, I wonder? Don't I look smart enough? I'msorry you don't approve of my costume!" She sat up straight in herseat; a smart little hat perched on the top of shaded locks; a neatlittle stock beneath the rolled-back collar of her coat; minute littleshoes, with ridiculous points, appearing beneath the hem of her skirt. Guest looked her over deliberately, his dark face softening into a verycharming smile. 

"I do! Very much indeed!"

"Maybe it's a trifle homely, but it's best to strike a balance. MrsMoffatt's apt to be a bit gaudy on these occasions. "

"It is very good of her to take so much trouble. Is--er--is she nearlyready, do you know?"

Cornelia had been narrowly on the watch for the flicker of dismay onGuest's face; it came surely enough, but was suppressed by such agallant effort that, to use her own vernacular, she "weakened" at thesight. The impish light died out of her eyes, and she said frankly--

"I guess I've been jollying all the time! Mrs Moffatt's gone with herhusband to visit a friend who lives quite a good way out, and she won'tbe back before seven. I didn't tell her of your invitation, as herplans were made, so it wasn't worth while. I'm `alone in London' forthe afternoon. Sounds kinder pathetic, don't it; but I'm enjoying itvery well. "

"Then--er--am I to have the pleasure of taking you alone?"

Cornelia threw him a glance of tragic reproach. 

"Captain Guest! I'm surpr-iz-ed! How dare you take advantage of myunprotected position, to make such a suggestion? In England younggirls--_nice_ young girls, do not go about with young gentlemenunchaperoned. I'm shocked at you! I should have believed you wouldhave been more considerate!"

"We could start early. I could introduce you to my aunt. She wouldfind some ladies, with whom you could sit during the concert. "

Cornelia made a grimace, the reverse of appreciative. 

"No, thank you; I guess not! I'm not over-fond of sitting with ladiesat any time, but strange ones are the limit. You tell your aunt thatit's real kind of her, and I vury much regret that I don't want to go. I've fixed-up just how I'm going to spend the afternoon. First, I'mgoing to give you some coffee--the waiter's bringing it along--then, when you go off to your crush, I shall get into a hansom and drive awayinto the City, to Saint Paul's. The service is at four. I'll sit rightby myself, and listen till that's over, then I'll go round and see thetombs. Quite a number of big people are buried there, I'm told. "

"Saint Paul's!" Guest's tone was eloquent of amazement. "But why SaintPaul's, of all places on earth? Why not hit on something livelier, while you are about it? There's a splendid exhibition of paintings inBond Street, and the Academy, of course, and the Wallace Collection--half a dozen shows which are worth seeing. Why go into the City on aday like this?"

"Because I want to! I've had four days cram full of--" She hesitated, seeking for a word that would not incriminate her hosts--"of _fuss_, andI want something else for a change. From all I hear, Saint Paul's is akinder big, and soothing, and empty. You can sit and think withoutbeing jostled up against someone else all the time. I don't supposethere's a more sociable creature on earth than I am myself, but everynow and then I've just _got_ to get away and have things out by myself. "

Guest sipped his coffee in thoughtful silence, glancing at Cornelia fromtime to time, with eyes full of a new diffidence. An impulse grippedhim, an impulse so extraordinary that he hesitated to put it into words. He wanted to go to Saint Paul's too; to drive beside Cornelia throughthe streets, to see her face as she sat in the dim old cathedral; thatsoftened, tremulous face, of which he had caught a glimpse once before, the memory of which lived with him still. When the service was over, hewanted to be her guide, to climb with her the tortuous staircase, andlook down on the ant-like figures in the streets below; to descend withher to the subterranean vaults. . .. He, Rupert Guest, wished to visitSaint Paul's on a grilling June afternoon, in preference to attending afashionable rendezvous--what madness was this which possessed him? Itwas rank folly; he would be ashamed to put the request into words. Pshaw! it was only the impulse of a moment--he would never think of itagain. Then he looked at Cornelia once more, and heard himself say, indeliberate tones--

"May I come with you? I should not interrupt. If you prefer, I couldsit in another place during the service, but I'd like to come. Afterwards we could go round together. It would be good of you to giveme the chance. "

"But--the reception?"

"Oh, hang the reception! I'm not sure that I should go in any ease. Dolet me come, Miss Briskett. I want to. Badly!"

Cornelia hesitated, staring at him with puzzled eyes. 

"You seemed to think Saint Paul's a pretty queer choice when I mentionedit a few minutes back!"

"I did; more shame to me, I suppose; but then you explained yourreasons. --I don't pretend that I should care to go by myself, but if youtake me as your companion, it might be good for me, too. . .. Would itdisturb you to have me there?"

"No-o, " said Cornelia, slowly. "I'd as lief you were there as not! Ifeel differently since I heard that story. . .. You must need hearteningup sometimes. Let's go right along then, and see if we ken't lay in astore of good thoughts, that will help us along for quite a while. Willyou order a cab?" . .. 

Guest walked in silence to the door of the hotel. By his own request hewas going to attend a church afternoon service with Cornelia Briskett!The thing seemed too extraordinary to be believed! He took his seat inthe hansom in a kind of stunned surprise. Truly, every man was astranger to himself, and there was no foretelling what an hour mightbring forth!

Cornelia turned to survey herself in the slip of mirror, and carefullyadjusted the set of her hat. 

"Say!" she cried, laughingly, "we've forgotten that chaperon! Supposeyou think one's not needed in a cathedral. " She paused, dimplingmischievously. "Well! that's just as you're made. I guess if I wereset on it, I could flirt in a _crypt_!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

Captain Guest could not flatter himself that Cornelia was in anyway "seton" flirting with himself, since nothing could have been further removedfrom that attitude than her behaviour during the afternoon. Shedisplayed a keen interest in her first view of the Strand and FleetStreet, and though her criticisms of those ancient thoroughfares werethe reverse of complimentary, she was evidently impressed by the vastsolemnity of the cathedral itself. The usual congregation of stragglerswere dotted about on the chairs in the nave; dreary-looking derelictsfrom God knows where, who drift in through the open doorways seekingrefuge from heat in summer, and cold in winter, and listen withapathetic indifference to the passing services. Guest seated himself byCornelia's side at the end of an unoccupied row, but for all the noticeshe paid him, he might as well have been at his aunt's reception milesaway. Only once, as the boys' voices soared upwards in a strain ofalmost unearthly sweetness, did she turn her face towards him, ininvoluntary appeal for sympathy, and at that moment there could nolonger be any doubt as to her looks. She was beautiful; so beautifulthat Guest was dazzled by the sight of the white, kindled face. 

The service was an unmitigated success; an hour to cherish in memory, but in the sight-seeing expedition which followed, there was no denyingthe fact that Cornelia _jarred_! Even the most phlegmatic of Englishmenmust be roused to a feeling of pride by such a review of the deeds ofhis countrymen as is set forth in a national cathedral; it may be evenconceded that his attitude may be a trifle irritating to strangers fromdistant lands; be that as it may Guest and Cornelia seemed fated to vieweverything from different points of view. Where he waxed enthusiastic, she displayed cool commonsense; when he stood dumb, she criticised thedesign of the sculpture, and speculated as to the cost; she guessed itwas "playing it pretty low down on Wellington to stow him away in acellar, " and made scathing remarks by Gordon's memorial. "You muffed itbadly that time! Guess if he'd belonged to _us_, he'd have been hoppinground still!"

Guest was thankful to mount the narrow staircase leading to the goldengallery, for Cornelia was so essentially a creature of to-day that hefelt more in sympathy with her in the air and the sunshine, with theecho of the great city rising to their ears. They stood side by side, while the breeze blew elf-like tendrils of hair round the girl's face. The gentle expression of half an hour ago had departed, and she looked acreature of steel and flame; a vital, indomitable being, tingling withenergy and joy. At sight of the forest of chimney pots stretching awayinto the horizon, her eyes shone with an enthusiasm which the wonders ofthe cathedral had failed to inspire. To Guest the outlook wasdreariness personified; the vastness which so impressed his companionconveyed to him only a realisation of work and struggle; of a pent-housein which human creatures struggled for existence. He stood in silence, while Cornelia exhausted her supply of adjectives, brooding on thedifference in the standpoints from which each regarded life, untilpresently she interrupted with a personal question. 

"You have never told me where you live, Captain Guest! London is notyour real home, is it?"

"Thank goodness, no! I could never live in a city. My home is in thecountry--Staffordshire. It was a valuable property fifty or sixty yearsago, but the factories have crept nearer and nearer, and, of course, that depreciates values. It is let at present. I hope to save enoughmoney to go back in time to end my days there. It's a fine old place, but its value is bound to go on dropping. "

"Couldn't you pull it down, and build small property on the site? Ifthere are factories about it might pay vury well. "

Guest's look of stupefaction, incredulity, of horror, could scarcelyhave been greater if Cornelia had suggested a leap down to the streetbeneath. "Good heavens! what an idea! You can't realise what you aretalking about, Miss Briskett. That house has been in the possession ofmy family since the time of the Tudors!"

Cornelia elevated indifferent eyebrows. "I don't know as that's anyreason why you should drop money on it now! I wouldn't take any stockof Toodors beside my own convenience. It's better to own a house youken live in, than the Garden of Eden, and be obliged to rent it out!"

"There is such a thing as sentiment, Miss Briskett, though you don'tseem to realise it. "

"Don't you make any mistake about that! I realise it right enough. I'mdeath on sentiment in its right place, but it takes a back seat whendaily bread comes into the question. "

"And if I told you that I'd rather starve than desecrate the home of myancestors--that I'd sooner end my days in a London garret than level asingle wall for my own benefit--what then? Would you put me down as amadman for my pains?"

Guest spoke with unwonted passion, staring down into the girl's facewith challenging eyes, but Cornelia preserved her attitude ofcomplacent, albeit commiserating, superiority. 

"My Poppar'd say it was sheer wickedness to see a chance of makingmoney, and letting it slide, but I don't go so far as that. Everyonehas a right to be miserable in his own way, but--I prefer to becomfortable. "

Her ripple of laughter struck a chill to Guest's heart. He looked ather moodily beneath knitted brows. 

"How is it that we always _do_ feel differently? We seem never toagree. What is the explanation, I wonder?"

"We _are_ different!" returned Cornelia, simply. "The difference isdeep down beneath all we say or do. We're _made_ differently from thestart. You felt it the first moment we met, and I did the same. Wekinder hated each other, and wanted to scratch! That was instinct! Youdon't get behind instinct in a hurry. Later on other things come in andmuddle one up, but just in the first moment one sees clearly. Youthought Elma Ramsden the sweetest thing, and were all fired up to helpher, but when you looked at me you were bursting with pride andprejudice. Why was that, I want to know?"

"You have answered yourself. Prejudice--a blind, ignorant prejudice, ofwhich I am ashamed; and pride--wounded pride, because you attempted tolay down the law! Don't judge me by that unfortunate beginning, MissBriskett. I have repented sufficiently to deserve forgiveness!"

Cornelia rested her chin on her clasped hands, and stared thoughtfullyover the forest of chimney-tops. 

"You are sorry because I'm a girl, and we've had some pretty good timestogether; but that don't alter the position of the case. I guess we areeach pretty good types of our different nationalities. We ken't blameourselves for that; if the truth's told, I expect we are proud of it, but it makes it impossible to feel the same way. We're bound to jolt upagainst each other every time we dip below the surface. "

"You find it impossible then to think of me as a friend?"

To his own amazement there was a touch of genuine anxiety in Guest'svoice. It seemed to matter a great deal whether this girl of the ruddylocks and curling lips accepted his friendship, or deliberately put itaside; to matter none the less that she had jarred upon a dozenprejudices during the course of the last half hour! He knew the tensionof suspense before he met her radiant, answering smile. 

"Oh, my, no, we're friends right enough! If you haven't to live withpeople all the time, it's easy enough to avoid the rubs. I guess we canagree to differ for the few times we're likely to meet. " . .. She buriedher face in her hand, to suppress a yawn. "Those steps have just aboutfinished me! I'm all used up. Don't you want to give me some tea? Inoticed one of those Fuller stores in the Strand as we came along. Let's go right back and have a rest!"

Guest led the way downwards, feeling but indifferently consoled. Anuncomfortable depression weighed on him as he walked through thestreets, and sat with Cornelia in a corner of the tea-shop. It was thefirst meal of which he had partaken in her company, and it gave afeeling of intimacy to face each other across the daintily-spread table, to watch her pour out tea with the pretty white hands on which thediamond solitaire twinkled meaningly. She seemed really tired, and foronce was content to be silent while she drank boiling tea and munchedrich cakes, with supreme disregard of digestion. As for Guest, twophrases rang in his ears, to the exclusion of other thoughts--"The fewtimes we are likely to meet"--"We might be a honeymoon couple. .. " Twosuggestions, far apart as the poles, yet each bringing within it athrill of something like fear. He did not wish to find himself in theposition of bridegroom to this Yankee stranger; the thought was absurd, nevertheless it was distinctly unpleasant to picture anyone elseoccupying the position! It was worse than unpleasant, it was actuallypainful to think that the newly-formed friendship might be interruptedby a separation of three thousand miles! He sat, staring at hiscompanion with the intensity which accompanies a preoccupied mind, untilpresently Cornelia began to arch her eyebrows, purse up her lips, andcrane her head from side to side. 

"I beg your pardon! If I was to get up and stand on that bench, do youthink it would aid your scrutiny? What's the verdict, please? It's theleast you can do to tell me, after quizzing all this time! . .. What doyou think of my looks? Honestly, mind, without any bunkum! I'm crazyto know. "

"I think--sometimes--you are beautiful!"

"Seriously? You mean it?"

"I do!"

The golden eyes met his with a flash of delight, and an arm wasstretched impetuously across the table. "Shake hands! You're just thenicest thing! To be puffectly candid, I've thought the same once ortwice when I've caught sight of myself in a mirror at a big moment, whenI was all worked up!--Big moments are vury suiting, but on ordinarydays" (Cornelia put a strong accent on the penultimate), "my nose, " sheclosed one eye to regard with the other the sharp little tip of themember in question, "there's no getting away from it, that my nose is aset-back! It's a mean little thing, without a mite of dignity. And I'mkinder washed-out and pasty by your English roses! Do you think Ishould look better if my cheeks were pink like Elma's?"

She looked at him with arch inquiry, and even as she did so, either asthe result of something which she read in the watching eyes, or by theaction of some mysterious mental power, the pink flamed in her cheek, and lo! she was a rose herself; a wonderful, exotic rose, flaming fromred to gold! Guest looked at her for a moment, and then hastily droppedhis eyes. He was not by nature an impetuous man, but he had aconviction that if he looked at Cornelia any longer at this moment, hemight say something which he should afterwards regret. 

He did not answer. It seemed unnecessary to answer. His eyes had donethat eloquently enough in that moment of meeting. There was a longsilence, while Guest mentally pulled himself together, calling himself afool for his pains; recalling the fact that by her own confessionCornelia was an accomplished flirt; steeling himself against herblandishments. When presently he heard his name pronounced in dulcettones, he looked up with his most unapproachable air. Cornelia washolding her plate towards him with one hand, while with the other sheheld a fragment of cake to her lips. 

"Another piece, please!" she commanded. "It's the best thing I'vestruck since I've been this side, and I'm going to wolf into it for allI'm worth! Ordinary meals bore the life out of me, but I'm just wickedwhen I get started on sweets!"

Guest signalled to a damsel in attendance, and saw her eyes widen inamazement at the renewed order. She walked away suppressing a smile, and could be observed obviously retailing the incident to a companionbehind the counter. It detracted woefully from the romance of thesituation to be pointed out as a couple who had demolished a largeplateful of cakes, and sent out an order for more!

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

Before parting from Cornelia at the hotel, Guest made a point of findingout her programme of amusements for the next few days, as a consequenceof which he called at a theatrical depot on his way to his club, andsecured an odd stall for either night. He had already more socialengagements than he could keep, but it occurred to him that it would bepossible to run into the theatre for an odd half hour, and chat withCornelia during an interval, on his way from one place to another. Heassured himself with much solemnity that it was his duty to look afterthe girl, since she had told him that he seemed to her like a bit ofhome, and he had the poorest possible opinion of her hosts. 

As for Cornelia, she ran gaily upstairs to her room, disdaining thelift, and all a-sparkle with pleasurable excitement. From her point ofview the afternoon had been an unmitigated success; she had beenconscious of no jar, being blandly indifferent to every opinion but herown, and was now as whole-hearted in appreciation of her companion asshe had previously been violent in denunciation. He was just thesweetest thing, and she was going to see him again to-morrow; maybe, to-night. It felt like being at home again to have a nice man hoppingaround!

She threw open the door of her room, and started with surprise to meetMrs Moffatt on the threshold, her arms piled high with parcels. Along, narrow box lay on the top, and she had an impression of seeing herown name written on the cover, before Mrs Moffatt hurried past, speaking rapidly over her shoulder. 

"Why, Cornelia, is that you? Excuse me, won't you, coming into yourroom? The stupid things have gotten the parcels all mixed up. Theseare the things I ordered this morning. Come into the parlour before youchange. I want you a moment. "

She bustled down the passage towards her own room, deposited herbundles, then crossed the corridor to the sitting-room, where Corneliawas already seated. She looked up as the elder woman entered, andthought she had never seen her look so worn and tired; so old, despitethe artificial colouring. 

"I'm afraid you've not had a good time. You look all used up! Wasn'tthe visit as nice as you expected?"

Mrs Moffatt threw herself down on a chair with a sigh of impatience. 

"Oh, my dear, I am so rattled! Every mortal thing's gone wrong fromstart to finish. Don't ask me about it, for it don't bear speaking of. My head aches fit to split, and now Silas has taken the huff and marchedoff goodness knows where, and there's a man sitting down in the hallrefusing to go away until he gets his money, and disgracing me beforethe whole hotel. It's for those furs I had sent in the other day. Idecided to keep them, and mailed them to a friend in the country tohouse for me. I can't be worried with a lot of goods in a hotel, so shegives me store-room until we sail. That's where I'm fixed-up, you see. I can't give him either the goods or the money, and when Silas turnsugly, goodness only knows when he may come back. Maybe not till late atnight. I'm so mortified I don't know what to do. "

Cornelia laughed easily. 

"Don't you worry. It's as easy as pie. I'll give you a cheque, and MrMoffatt can pay me back in the morning. I'll go and write it out foryou now. What's the damage?"

"Two hundred pounds; Fredburg and Company. You are an angel, Cornelia!I ken't begin to thank you. "

"Don't try, please! What does it matter for a few hours?" criedCornelia, brightly. She went into her own room, made out the cheque, and handed it to her friend, who promptly carried it away, to return atthe expiration of five minutes with a sigh of relief. 

"That was one for him. He looked kinder small when he saw your name onthe cheque. It's real sweet of you, dear, and Silas will pay up like alamb when you are the creditor. He won't show his temper to you, as hewould to me. You are a stranger, you see, and I'm only his wife. "

There was an accent of bitterness in the speaker's voice, and she leanther head on her hands, in an attitude of profound dejection. Corneliahad never before been the witness of so abandoned a mood, but her ideasof loyalty were too much outraged to permit of sympathy. She held herhead erect, and her voice sounded cold and distant. 

"I'd just as soon not hear any more about Mr Moffatt, if you don'tmind. He's been very kind to me, and it's not my business how hebehaves. I guess a good many men get crusty when the bills come in, andyou're a pretty expensive wife. I should think you'd get tired ofprowling about those stores!"

Mrs Moffatt flushed, and bit her lower lip, not attempting to defendherself, but staring before her with weary, vacant eyes. It was awelcome diversion when a waiter entered the room carrying a tray withtea and refreshments, and Cornelia waited on her hostess with anattention which was intended to mitigate her late severity. Although afuller acquaintance of Mrs Moffatt had increased neither liking norrespect, it had developed a sincere pity for a woman whose life wasbarren of purpose, of interest, apparently of love also. It was not inCornelia's nature to see anyone suffer and not try to help, and if ithad been her own mother on whom she was waiting she could not have shownmore care and consideration. A table was placed by Mrs Moffatt's side, tea was made with exact remembrance of her preferences; a cushion wasbrought from a sofa to put behind her back, and a footstool placed readyfor her feet. It was while she still knelt to put the stool in positionthat the elder woman at length broke silence. 

"See here, Cornelia!" she cried suddenly, "I mayn't have another chanceof talking to you quietly before you go, and there's something I want tosay. . .. You are young, and rich, and pretty, and strong, and you'vehad a good time all the way through. Your Poppar spoils you, and you'vegot just to wish for a thing, and it's there right along. I'm glad ofit, for you're a real sweet girl, but, _don't come down too hard onother people_! . .. It's a pretty queer world when you compare oneperson's luck with another! I'm not going to tell you all I've comethrough, but it's not been too easy. At times I've been to blame, andat times I haven't. I don't know as it makes much difference anyway--the end's the same. Seems to you I'm a pretty poor thing, but you don'tknow how you'd have been yourself, Cornelia, if you'd come along thesame road. You've got to remember that, before you judge!"

"That's so!" assented Cornelia, gravely. She was too "straight" to denyan insinuation which was all too true, but at the same time she felt anacute regret and embarrassment in the thought that a woman so much olderthan herself should feel it necessary to make such a confession ofunworthiness. "I ought to be a heap better than I am, for there isn'tanyone living that's had a better time. We've had spells when Poppar'shad bad luck, and the money's been short, but we were as happy as grigsplanning out how we'd spend the next pile. So long as you can getalong, it doesn't matter much about the extras, when you're as happytogether as we are, Poppar and I. "

Mrs Moffatt sighed once more. 

"I never knew my parents. They died when I was a baby, and I was raisedamong strangers, who put up with me for the sake of the pay. Love nevercame my way, somehow. I suppose some folks would say that was my ownfault. There was a man I could have cared for, but he didn't want me, and I married Silas for a change; to get away from the dull old life. . .. You be careful who you marry, Cornelia! You're the sort of girlwho does things pretty thoroughly either way; there's no middle coursefor you. You're bound to be either blissful or wretched. You've gotenough money of your own, so you can afford to choose. Lucky girl!--Isit going to be that Captain Guest?"

"Suttenly not!" Cornelia rose to her feet, and walked back to the tea-table, very stiff in the back, and pink in the cheeks. She was angrywith herself for blushing, and the fact naturally made her blush themore. "I told you before that we have only met once or twice, andmore'n half the time has been taken up in quarrelling. We are toodifferent ever to run together in double harness. "

"Well--I'm sorry! He's got lots of frills, but he looks the right sortall the same. I'm sorry. You ought to have a good man, Cornelia. "

Mrs Moffatt pushed aside her half-finished cup of tea, and rose wearilyto her feet. 

"Well, I guess I'll go and dress. We'll have some champagne for dinner, and that will perk us up for the theatre. They say it's a real goodplay, and we shall only be together two more nights, so I want you tohave a good time. It seems mean not to ask you to stay on, but ourplans are all uncertain. We may be off ourselves any time now. Silasnever settles down for more than a few days. "

Cornelia gave the politely inaudible murmur usual on such occasions. Much as she had enjoyed the stay in town, she could not pretend toregret the prospect of returning to Norton. Later on she would make alonger visit to town, in Poppar's company, but even if the invitationwere given she could not consent to remain any longer the guest of MrsSilas P Moffatt. She was a woman whom it was impossible to respect, andto Cornelia, respect was a necessary foundation to friendship. Silasdid not count! He was "a little misery, " to be regarded only as anadjunct to his wife. She was even surprised to hear that he was capableof exhibiting ill-temper. In any case, it seemed to be short-lived, asdinner found him in his usual place, and then and throughout the eveninghe was, if anything, a trifle more animated than usual, thankingCornelia warmly for helping his wife out of an awkward position, andregretting that in the rush to the theatre there was not time todischarge the debt forthwith. "But we must settle up after breakfastto-morrow. Short accounts make long friends!" he declared smilingly, ashe helped her to put on her cloak. 

Cornelia had dressed with a vivid remembrance of the fact that CaptainGuest had never seen her in evening attire, and a determination tosecure "a big moment, " for his benefit. When an hour or two later hestood at the entrance to the stalls, and caught sight of her seated inthe centre of the front row, it seemed at first sight that she was cladentirely in black, but even as he was applauding the choice for thedisplay of ruddy locks and snowy shoulders, she made a sudden movement, and lo! the black was transformed into vivid, glittering green. Now shewas conspicuous--too conspicuous, to please his fastidious taste. Hecould see opera-glasses levelled on her from the boxes overhead, andover the edge of the dress circle. She sat well forward in her stall, with head thrown back, and eyes fixed upon the stage, in absorbedattention. There was no doubting the unconsciousness of the pose; shewas as oblivious of the gaze of others as of his own presence, but hefelt an irritated longing to muffle her in veils and wrappings; to lifther up and transplant her to the back seat in a box. What business hadthose idiots to stare at her, as if she were one of the actresses on thestage? He branded the idiots with even stronger titles, the while hecontinued to follow their example. Surely it was a forgivable sin to beconspicuously attractive; to stand out, vivid and dazzling, from thesurrounding throng, whose chief characteristics seemed to be a bleachedinanity, and indifference. .. 

Guest stood in the shadow, his deep-set eyes fixed on the girl withunblinking scrutiny. He remembered that such a gaze was said to demanda response where a certain amount of affinity existed between the peopleinvolved, and put out his strength to try the truth of the statement inhis own case. The proof came almost startlingly soon. Cornelia's headturned over her shoulder, and her eyes lightened with a flash ofrecognition. She smiled at him, nodded her head, and arched her brows, signalling a message, which he could easily divine to be an invitationto come to speak to her between the acts. When the curtain fell, MrMoffatt made an immediate rush for the door, and Guest took possessionof his seat, devoutly thankful that it did not happen to adjoin that ofthe other lady of the party. 

"I'm very pleased to meet you again! Seems quite a good time since weparted, " said Cornelia, gaily. Her hair stood out round her head like ahalo of gold, her eyes shone like stars, her cheeks were softly pink. Guest was dazzled by the bizarre beauty of her. She wore no jewels, notso much as a chain round her neck, and the dress by some witchery wasblack once more, a thin black gauze, heavily jetted. He pointed at itwith a curious finger. 

"I could have sworn it was green over there! What has happened to turnit into black?"

Cornelia laughed complacently. 

"It's meant to change! There are skirts and skirts: ever so many ofthem, on top of each other, and each one is different. They all get achance at times. It's the vury latest craze. Mrs Moffatt nearlykilled me when she saw it. "

"A chameleon effect. I see! Is it supposed to be symbolic?"

"Of me? I guess not! When I've made up my mind, I _stick_! There's nochopping about for this child!"

It was extraordinary how illusion vanished at the sound of the high-pitched, nasal voice. The fairy princess vanished, and in her place sata flesh-and-blood damsel, composed, complacent, and matter-of-fact. Guest felt again the intrusion of a jarring note. He would have likedCornelia to welcome him with a flutter of embarrassment, to have seenher eyes droop before his, and hear a quiver in her voice. He wanted torealise that he was the natural head and protector, and she the woman, the weak, clinging creature, whose happy destiny it was to be thehelpmeet of man; but as Cornelia herself would have phrased it, therewas "no cling to her. " It seemed ridiculous to think of protection inconnection with a creature so jauntily self-satisfied and independent. 

He sat by her side until the conclusion of the interval, but theconversation was forced and uninteresting, and he rose to depart withthe depressing consciousness that the interview had been a failure, since it left him less in sympathy with Cornelia than he had been in theafternoon. 

On his way to the door, Guest's eyes caught the signal of a warning fan, and he looked up to see one of the boxes occupied by a party of his ownfriends. He had been too much occupied with Cornelia to look around theaudience, but now it was impossible to leave the theatre without goingupstairs a few minutes. After the ordinary greetings, complaints of theheat, and comparisons of engagements, followed the inevitable question--

"Who is Miss Rossetti?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your friend in the stalls. The girl with the wonderful hair?"

"She's an American--a Miss Briskett. Over from the States on a shortvisit. I met her lately down in the country, and we happened to strikethe same week for a visit to town. "

"Lucky for you! I've been admiring her all night. That hair and skin, and the glittering black-green frock! Quite bewitching! Where is shestaying?"

"At the Ritz, with some people she met coming over. She knows no oneover here. "

The good lady's interest appeased, she turned back to the stage, fluttering her fan to and fro. Attracted by its movement, or by theglances focussed upon her, Cornelia tilted her head upwards, recognisedGuest, and whispered to her companion. Mr Moffatt's eyes travelledobediently towards the box, to fasten, not on Guest but on the man byhis side. For a moment they widened in unmistakable recognition, before, of set purpose, as it were, they grew blank and lifeless. Hebowed slightly to Guest, and turned back to the stage. 

The man by Guest's side laughed drily, and followed him out into thecorridor. 

"Look here, Guest, " he said shortly, "if that girl is a friend of yours, and is staying in a hotel here with those people, you'd better adviseher to get away as soon as possible! That man's a bad egg. I ran upagainst him in Marienbad last year. He and his wife made the hotel toohot to hold them, and were politely requested to leave. There wasnothing definite proved, but too many shady things to be pleasant. Hehad an extraordinary facility for winning at cards, and the fair MrsSchuter--by the way her hair was brown at that time--"

"These people are called Moffatt! Perhaps you are mistaking them forsomebody else!" Guest interrupted eagerly: but he knew the futility ofhis hope before he heard the reply. 

"No doubt they have half a dozen aliases! What does it matter what theychoose to call themselves. You saw for yourself that the man recognisedme just now. Sorry to interfere, you know, and all that, but I'd benailing sorry to leave any girl I knew in such a caravansary. Thought Iought to tell you!"

"Thanks very much! You are perfectly right. I'll send her off to-morrow, " said Guest, firmly. As he walked down the steps again he wassmouldering with fury, with an impulse to walk into the theatre, denounce the adventurers to their faces, and bear Cornelia away to aplace of safety. For all her assurance, events had proved that she wasneither capable of taking care of herself, nor of choosing her owncompanions. She had been led away by impulse, like other girls; heliked her the more, not the less, for the discovery, and his heartsoftened at the thought of her disillusion. No use to worry her to-night! Let her have a good night's rest, and to-morrow morning, brightand early, he would go round to the hotel, when Mr and Mrs Schuter, orMoffatt, or whatever their name happened to be, would once more findtheir quarters too hot to hold them!

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

On returning to the hotel that evening, Mr Moffatt announced that heand his wife had business on hand next morning, which would necessitatean early breakfast, and that once again they would be obliged to leaveCornelia to her own resources. He suggested, however, that they shouldall meet at Paddington Station at two o'clock, whence they could taketrain to Maidenhead for an afternoon on the river. 

Cornelia hailed the prospect with delight, and mentally dedicated themorning to doing a picture-gallery, and to choosing a suitable presentfor her aunt and Elma Ramsden. Aunt Soph should have lace; somethingsoft, and smooth, and womanly, to take the place of the prickly steeltrimmings which seemed to constitute her one idea of adornment. Elma, dear thing, what should be chosen for her? Not clothes; it would not begood taste to offer another gift of the kind; a piece of jewellery wouldbe best; something good and quiet, and unobtrusive, suitable for thewear of "a nice young girl. "

Cornelia chuckled to herself in prospective enjoyment next morning, asshe repaired to the private sitting-room of the suite, where breakfastwas invariably served. Her host and hostess had already risen from thetable and were dressed for walking. Mrs Moffatt stood before thewindow looking down into the street with a pale and worried expression. Her husband was scribbling at a side table, but jumped up at Cornelia'sentrance, as if he had been anxiously awaiting her appearance. 

"Ah, good-morning, Miss Briskett! We are just off, but I wanted tosettle up with you first. Here's the cheque, with many thanks! Perhapsyou will kindly look over it, to see it is all right. "

"Oh, Mr Moffatt, you should not have troubled when you were so hustled. It's too good of you!" cried Cornelia, eagerly, her heart warming tothe little man for a promptitude in money matters which reminded her ofher own beloved Poppar. "Of course it's all right!" She cast a casualglance over the cheque, and broke into a surprised laugh. "It isn't, though! You've paid me too much! I guess I'm not a usurer, to wantinterest for a single night. It was only two hundred that I lent!"

Mr Moffatt gave an exclamation of irritation. 

"And I have made it out for two hundred and fifty! How very annoying!I have advised it to the bank, too, and sent off the letter. I wantedto get through with as much business as possible this morning. The morehurry the less speed! Why on earth could you not give me the rightfigures, Gertrude?"

He turned upon his wife with an expression of querulous anger, which shetreated with her usual cool disdain. 

"I _did_ tell you, Silas--but, for the land's sake, don't make a fuss!It's simple enough, Cornelia can give me the change in notes, and itwill do to pay up one or two odd accounts before we leave. You won'tmind, dear, I know; and, see here! I'm fairly rattled this morning, andI want you to help me through. I've written out a list of errands thatought to be done right away, as soon as you've gotten through breakfast. The particulars are down on this list, and I'd be for ever obliged. You ought to get through before one, if you start soon, so meet me atBuzzard's and we'll have lunch together. In case I should be late, don't wait, but just order for yourself, and allow half an hour to getto Paddington. If I'm delayed, I'll go straight there, and look out foryou on our platform. "

"That'll be all right. I'll stay till you come, " Cornelia assented. She had already opened the gold chain bag which hung by her side, andwas smoothing-out a roll of notes. "Two fives, two tens; I guess that'sall I can do this morning! I'll give you the rest to-night. "

"Oh, my, yes; there's no hurry. Thank you, dear; much obliged!" saidMrs Moffatt, lightly, but her expression altered as she spoke. Cornelia wondered if she were imagining a look of disappointment. It_must_ be imagination, for of what importance were a trumpery hundreddollars to a woman who daily squandered many times the amount on her ownadornment!

After the Moffatts had departed, Cornelia ate her breakfast, and set outin a hansom to accomplish Mrs Moffatt's commissions before proceedingto shop on her own account. She handed the driver the list of addresseswhich she was asked to visit in town, and wondered at his expression ofastonishment; but she wondered no longer as they traversed mile aftermile of dreary roadways, to find on arriving at the first destinationthat as great a distance still separated it from the second on the list. The commissions themselves were trivial and unimportant, at whichCornelia was not surprised after her personal experience of MrsMoffatt's shopping eccentricities, but when she had wasted a couple ofhours driving to and fro for no tangible result, she waxed impatient, determined that she had done enough for the honour of friendship, andthat Mrs Moffatt could herself finish the remaining transactions. Shetherefore directed the driver to take her to the jeweller's shop in BondStreet where she had made her previous purchases, and anticipated apleasant half hour choosing an ornament which would commend itself toElma's approval. 

The partner in the firm welcomed her with his usual empressement, mingled with a certain surprise for which she was at a loss to account. Although a keen tradesman, pearl brooches and bangles seemed thismorning too trivial matters to engross his attention; he had the air ofwaiting momentarily to discuss a more important subject, and presentlyintroduced it himself, unable to be longer silent. 

"I despatched a messenger to the hotel an hour ago with the emeraldnecklace! Mrs Moffatt informed him that you were not in at the moment, but would be able to see him at tea-time. She was probably unaware thatyou intended to call yourself. "

"Yes, she was. It doesn't matter a mite. So long as she was there, it's all right, " Cornelia replied, turning over the tray of ornamentsabsently. It seemed odd that Mrs Moffatt should have returned to thehotel after representing that she was obliged to be absent all morning, but no doubt some engagement had fallen through which she had intendedto keep. She had lifted a brooch in her hands and turned towards thewindow to examine the colour of the pearls, when the jeweller spokeagain. 

"We were delighted to receive your agreement to take the necklace, for, as Mrs Moffatt had definitely decided that it was beyond her figure, wewere on the point of sending it over to our Paris house. I am sure MrBriskett will not regret this purchase when he sees the quality of thestones. "

Cornelia stood stock-still, staring hard at the little pearl brooch, ahundred vague doubts and dreads which had previously been resolutelythrust aside, darting back into her mind with a new and terriblesignificance. She felt stunned and bewildered, but the predominantsensation was the necessity for caution. She must be certain of whathad happened before she presumed to judge. She rallied all her self-possession, and was surprised at the natural sound of her own voice asshe replied--

"What makes you speak of my father, Mr Marchant? Did I mention to youat any time that he was fond of emeralds?"

"I believe you did on one occasion, but it was your reference thismorning to which I alluded. " Mr Marchant drew out his pocket-book andselected one letter from the contents. "This is it, I think. Yes! Yousay--`I have just received a cable permission from my father, Mr EdwardB Briskett, to purchase the emerald necklace. ' I was referring to thisquotation, rather than any casual remark. "

Cornelia leant over the counter and read the words with her own eyes;saw the signature of her own name written below in Mrs Moffatt'shandwriting. 

"Why, of course! I forgot. I never do remember what I write, " she saidcalmly. 

She was sure now; there was no longer any reason for doubt! Theeverlasting shopping expeditions; the purchase of a succession ofworthless trifles; the exploiting of her own wealth, had all beendesigned to create a confidence which would prepare the way for such a_coup_ as the present. And this morning she had been deliberatelydecoyed out of the way, while the last scene of the comedy was enacted. The messages were plainly a ruse, while the different rendezvous wouldhave provided a further detention, allowing the conspirators plenty oftime to decamp. 

Once opened, Cornelia's eyes were wonderfully keen. She understood nowwhy the goods which it was inconvenient to harbour in a hotel had beenconstantly despatched to the keeping of "a friend. " She realised thatshe had been cheated--doubly cheated--in first giving a cheque for twohundred pounds, and afterwards in counting out change for a worthlessreturn. 

"I need never fancy myself again after this! I'm just the greenestpeach on the wall!" she told herself furiously, but through all theanger and shock, the necessity for caution remained predominant in hermind. Mr Marchant must not suspect that anything was wrong. Even now, at the eleventh hour, the fraud might be prevented. She must get backto the hotel at once; see Mrs Moffatt and reason with her, argue withher, command her to hand over the jewels! The woman was not all bad, and life had gone hardly with her. She should have another chance!Cornelia waived aside all thought of responsibility toward the jewellerhimself, by the easy decision to pay for the necklace if necessary, buta sudden feeling of helplessness weighed upon her at the prospect of theinterview ahead. 

Suppose Mr Moffatt were at the hotel with his wife! Then there wouldbe two to one, and once the outer veneer was broken through, there wasno saying to what extremes of abuse, of threatening, even of violenceitself, they might descend. Cornelia recalled the two faces; thewoman's hard, sullen, coarse; the man's mean and crafty, and shudderedat the prospect. 

All at once the thought of Guest occurred, to bring with it a wave ofrelief. Guest had begged her to summon him if at any time he should beneeded; now the need had arisen, and he should help her through. 

She hastily selected a pearl bangle and laid it on one side on thecounter. 

"I will decide on that! Let your man bring it round at five o'clock, and ask to see me personally. He can bring a bill made out for all Iowe, and I'll settle at once. And, Mr Marchant, I want to use yourtelephone! Can you ring and have me switched on to the Army and NavyClub?"

While the preliminary operations were going on at the telephone, Cornelia racked her brain to think of a suitable rendezvous, and failinga better suggestion, decided on a tea-shop exactly across the road. Toher immense relief, Guest was found at his club, and announced that hewould be with her in ten minutes' time, so that there was nothing to dobut to dismiss the hansom, and secure a table in a quiet corner. 

The time seemed long, but in reality it was less than ten minutes beforeGuest seated himself by her side. He looked grave and stern;preoccupied almost to the point of discourtesy, for the ordinarygreetings were exchanged for a succession of short, eager questions. 

"Where have you been all the morning? Have you been back to the hotel?Did you get my message?"

"I did not! I've been out since about half-past nine. What was themessage about? Anything important?"

"Tell me first what you wanted me for just now. "

Cornelia paused for a moment and her lips trembled. She clasped herhands together and leant across the little table, staring earnestly intohis eyes. 

"Captain Guest, I'm in trouble! I've a pretty good opinion of myself asa rule, but--I ken't see it through alone! . .. It's going to be one ofthe meanest businesses you ever touched. . .. Will you help me?"

"I will!" said Guest, quietly. "Thank you for asking me. Is it--excusemy asking--anything in connection with Mr and Mrs Moffatt? Ah!" asthe girl exclaimed in sharp surprise, "I fancied that last night'smeeting might bring things to a crisis. Now, I'll tell you just whathappened in that box, and then you must tell me your story. "

For the next ten minutes they sat with heads bent close together, exchanging confidences of grave import. Cornelia kept nothing back, andas he listened, Guest's face grew momentarily sterner. The hastilyordered meal lay neglected on the table while they faced the desperatesituation with which they had to deal. 

Guest took a man's cut-and-dried view of the case, and was strongly infavour of apprising Mr Marchant of what had happened and returning tothe hotel, supported not only by him, but by a police officer into thebargain, but Cornelia would not be induced to agree. 

"She's done wrong, and she forged my name for her own purposes--there'sno getting away from that, but there may be some explanation which willmake it look a little less black. Anyway, I'm going to hear it before Ijudge, and if she'll make things good I'll give her another chance. Youdon't know what's come before this!"

"I should have little difficulty in guessing, however, " Guest saiddrily. 

He thought of the hotel in Marienbad; of the changed name; the dyedhair; and mentally conjured up the dreary life of plotting and scheming, of constant danger, and miserable success, which constitutes the life ofthe professional adventurer, but Cornelia saw only the haggard facewhich had looked at her in the sitting-room of the hotel, the face ofthe woman whose childhood had known no home, whom love had passed by. She heard again the hopeless intonation of the voice which had remindedher--"You'd have to tread the same road yourself, before you could judgeme, Cornelia!" Her chin squared with the look of stubborn determinationwhich her aunt already knew so well, and she said firmly--

"Well, anyway, I've got to see her first! If you don't approve, I'll goalone, but I'd like best to have you there. "

"Of course I'll come. There's no question about that. We had betterget off at once, then, and not waste any more time, but first you musthave something to eat! You've been driving about all morning, andthere's trouble ahead. I'll ring for something hot and tempting. Whatwould you like best?"

"I couldn't swallow a bite if you paid me for it. It would stick in mythroat. "

"Have a glass of wine, then! I'm not going to stir till you havesomething. You look tired out. "

"I never touch wine. I think perhaps I could drink some cor-fee!"Cornelia said doubtfully, and Guest's stern face suddenly lightened intoa smile. 

"Coffee! The worst thing possible for your nerves. You funny littlegirl! You have not the smallest glimmering of an idea how to take careof yourself. "

To his surprise and alarm, two big tears brimmed up suddenly inCornelia's eyes, and her lips quivered. 

"Don't be good to me!" she whispered sharply. "_Don't_! For two strawsI'll howl! I'm all worked up. Take me out, out into the street, quick, before I make a scene!"

Guest needed no second bidding. In an incredibly short time theuntasted meal was paid for, a hansom summoned, and he was driving oncemore through the streets by Cornelia's side, while she mopped her eyeswith a minute pocket-handkerchief. 

"_You_ haven't lived with her for days at a time. . .. _You_ haven'tthought of her as a friend. . .. _You_ haven't had her nurse you, whenyou were sick!. .. "

"Thank heaven for that!" ejaculated Guest, devoutly. It was ridiculousto indulge in sentiment in connection with a thief and a forger; thewoman deserved no mercy, and would receive none, if he had his way; nonethe less was he charmed by Cornelia's emotion, by her pity, her amazinginconsistency. Gone were her airs of complacency and independence; atthe first threatening of danger the pretty pretence was broken up; weak, trembling, tearful, she summoned her natural protector to her side!Guest's heart swelled with a passion of tenderness. In his immaculatefrock-coat, freshly-creased trousers, and irreproachable silk hat, hewas as truly a knight-errant at that moment as any mailed warrior ofold, going forth to fight a tourney for his lady's favour. 

"Don't cry!" he cried eagerly. "Look here, you know, if you want me tolet her down lightly, you must pull yourself together. I can't standthis. If you cry any more--I'll--_kill her_!"

Cornelia swallowed dismally, blinking the tears from her eyelids. 

"I don't know as it wouldn't be the best way out, as far as she'sconcerned, but I'd just as lief you didn't _all_ turn criminals on myhands! I'll pull myself up once we are there, but I'm all of a flutterthinking it over in advance. "

"We'll be there soon now, " Guest told her reassuringly. 

They drove in silence down the length of Bond Street, and out into thewhirl of Piccadilly. Soon, almost too soon for Cornelia's janglednerves, they had drawn up before the great door of the hotel. 

Here nothing of a sensational nature had occurred. The porter touchedhis cap to Cornelia with his usual stolid air, the clerk bowed withunruffled complacence--no hint of trouble had come to their ears. Thelift was full of a laughing, chattering crowd. It seemed to Corneliaalmost incredible that these women were repairing to their rooms to deckthemselves for fresh pleasures, while she was about to bring a prisonerto the bar. She turned towards Guest, as he stood by her side, and felta fresh sense of comfort in his nearness, his bigness, his air of quietstrength. 

On the second floor the lift discharged half its occupants--a merryflock for the most part, hurrying along the corridor, laughing andjesting as they went, while two followed gravely behind, looking toright and left with anxious eyes. 

The door of Mrs Moffatt's bedroom was closed. Was it alreadydeserted--its drawers and wardrobes despoiled of their treasures; abundle of worthless trifles left behind?--Cornelia's heart beat insickening throbs; she knew a coward wish that she might be too late. Topay up and go quietly home seemed an easy way out of the difficulty intowhich she had walked so blindly!

She drew a quick, frightened breath, and felt Guest's hand pressprotectingly on her arm. The sitting-room door opened, and side by sidethey entered the room. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

Mrs Moffatt was standing before the table, tearing up old papers. Shelooked up with a start, to see Guest and Cornelia standing before her inthat eloquent, linked attitude, and over her features there passed thathelpless, trapped expression of guilt discovered and brought to bay, which, once seen, can never be forgotten. The blood ebbed from herface, leaving it ashen white, except for two fixed spots of colour oneither cheek; her fingers relaxed their hold, and the fragments of paperfluttered downward to the floor. There was a ghastly silence. 

It was Guest who was the first to speak, standing straight and stern atthe opposite side of the table, and at the sound of his opening wordsthe wretched woman trembled violently, and sank on a chair for support. 

"Mrs Schuter! I have come here with Miss Briskett to ask yourexplanation of a letter sent in her name to Mr Marchant, the jeweller, this morning. She has seen the letter, with the forged signature at theend, and has heard that the necklace was brought to this hotel, anddelivered to you. May I trouble you to hand it over?"

Each word was sharp and cutting as an icicle, and Guest's steel-likeeyes were alight with remorseless anger. Cornelia turned her headaside, unable to endure the pitiful spectacle. Mrs Moffatt stammeredout a broken subterfuge. 

"What necklace? I don't know--I don't--understand!"

Even as she spoke, one trembling hand twitched upward, to be as quicklylowered, but not before Guest had pounced upon the clue with swiftintuition. 

"You understand very well! As a matter of fact, you are wearing it atthis moment beneath your dress. Will you kindly take it off, and put iton the table?"

He turned aside as he spoke, paying this small tribute to her womanlyfeelings. A strangled sob broke the silence; the sound of labouredbreathing, then a faint, clicking sound, and he looked round to see adazzle of light on a corner of the table, where the sunbeams had found aplaything. A bauble of green and white stones, for which a woman hadsold her soul. 

Cornelia was leaning against the mantelpiece, her face hidden in herhands. Guest realised that it was her sob which he had heard, and theknowledge did not soften his heart. 

"Thank you!" he said in the same tone of cutting politeness. "That isso much to the good, but I shall have to trouble you still further. There was two hundred pounds lent to you yesterday, ostensibly to bepaid to a furrier, that, of course, was a mere excuse!--and thirtypounds in bank-notes this morning. I fear the first sum is gone beyondrecall, since your husband's cheque is probably not worth the paper onwhich it is written, but I take it that the notes are still intact. Asyou prefer someone else to pay your bills, you will have kept them forpersonal use. They are probably in your pocket at this moment!"

"I have not got the cheque--I could not return it if I would, " said MrsMoffatt, hoarsely. "My husband cashed it as soon as the bank was open, and left London shortly after. He has the money. I have not had a centof it. The notes are in my purse. He left them so that I should beable to follow. "

"Just so. You will please return them to Miss Briskett, and we willdeal with the other sum later on. Your intention was to leave the hotelfor good this morning, and you provided Miss Briskett with commissionsto keep her out of the way while you made your preparations. That isthe case, is it not?"

The woman did not answer, but looked across the room towards whereCornelia stood; and Cornelia parted her hands and looked back at her inpitiful inquiry. 

"_Did_ you mean to run away, and leave me here alone?"

Mrs Moffatt bent her head in shame. Her face was not white now, butdeep, burning red. 

"We knew--after last night--that the game was up. We _had_ to go, Cornelia--or--"

"Be kind enough not to address Miss Briskett by her Christian name!"interrupted Guest, sharply. It seemed to him an impossible humiliationthat this woman should still dare to address the girl in the language offriendship. "Let us get to the end of this business. I presume thereare other bills, which will come in, in due course; bills for goodsordered in other forged notes. Am I right in supposing this? It isyour best plan to speak the truth!"

"Y-es!"

"There _are_ more bills! Can you give me an approximate idea of theiramount? Fifty pounds, one hundred, two hundred? What is the amount?"

"About--one hundred. "

"And the hotel expenses! Miss Briskett suspects from the manner of theofficials that you were thoughtful enough to take these rooms in hername. Again I ask you, is that the case?"

A bend of the head gave assent, and Guest wheeled round with a gestureof intense indignation, took a few rapid strides up and down the room, then halted again by Mrs Moffatt's side. 

"And, not content with cheating and plotting to desert this young girl, whom you professed to befriend, how many of her personal possessionshave you stolen? You had free access to her room--have you takenadvantage of her absence this morning to rob her of her privatebelongings?"

Two exclamations, of denial, of dismay, and reproach, sounded in hisears. Innocent and guilty alike regarded him with indignant eyes. Tothe mysterious feminine reasoning it appeared there were differentdegrees in the crime of theft. To pay a debt by means of a worthlesscheque was evidently less reprehensible than to pilfer a brooch from adressing-table. Guest knew himself condemned before he heard thesimultaneous replies. 

"Captain Guest, how _can_ you! She would never do that!"

"Indeed, you are mistaken. I'm bad enough, but I have not fallen quiteso low. I have not touched a thing. "

"You must excuse my denseness. I fail to see how one theft is so muchworse than the other. I am sorry to seem intrusive, Miss Briskett, butI have taken a certain responsibility upon myself, and I must besatisfied on this point before we go any further. Will you take MrsSchuter with you to your room while you carefully check yourpossessions, and get back your bank-notes. I will wait here till youreturn. "

For a moment Cornelia appeared on the point of refusing, but she changedher mind, and without a word led the way down the corridor towards herown bedroom. Her dressing-case stood on a table by the window; shestood over it uncertainly, as if still debating with herself whether sheshould or should not obey Guest's command, and as she did so MrsMoffatt's voice broke the silence--

"Cornelia!--there's not a mite of reason why you should take my word, but I tell you straight I haven't laid a finger on one of your things. You ken look as well as not, but it's wasting time. The thirty poundsis in my purse, ready for you to take. When it comes to the last Silastakes fright. There's no need to tell any more lies. We have lived bythis sort of thing for years past, but as soon as he scents danger inthe air, he makes off to a place of safety, and leaves me to finish up. You won't find him, however hard you search, but I'm right here. . .. What are you going to do with me, Cornelia?"

Cornelia drew a sharp, sobbing breath. 

"Oh, why did you do it?" she cried wildly. "Why did you do it? Youlaid a plot for me from the start. I was rich, and--and _green_, so youfussed over me, and acted like a friend, and invited me up here, fornothing but to bleed me--to get as much out of me as you could, and thenleave me to face it out alone in a strange place. I was your owncountrywoman, and I trusted you. Hadn't you got a spark of loyaltyleft, that you could act so--_mean_?"

Mrs Moffatt put her hand to her throat. Her voice seemed paralysed;husky, disjointed, and feeble. 

"No! It's all gone; loyalty, faith, everything that matters. There'snothing left but _this_! You'd not believe me if I said I was fond ofyou, Cornelia, but it's the solid truth, though I robbed you all thesame. I _plotted_ to rob you, as you say! You had plenty of money, andwe were cleaned out. I meant to get away with that necklace, and sellthe stones on the Continent. There are people there who will buywithout asking questions. I've got to know them pretty well during thelast few years. . .. Cornelia, what are you going to do? Is MrMarchant sending to arrest me here?"

"He doesn't know that anything is wrong. I managed to keep quiet, andlet him believe I knew all about it. To the last I kept hoping thatthere was some way out. Captain Guest wanted to bring an officer along, but I wouldn't do it. "

"That was like you! You wanted I should have a chance, but it's alltrue; every one thing! There's more true than you know of--other billsto come in, a big sum run up here. You can give back the necklace, buteven so, it is going to be heavy enough. . .. Cornelia, _what are yougoing to do_? I'm a bad woman--are you going to send me to prison, tohave a chance of growing worse, among other bad women like myself?"

Cornelia threw out her arms with a sudden, reckless gesture. 

"_No_!" she cried strongly, "I'm not! I'm going to let you go; I'mgoing to _help_ you to go. Captain Guest's a pretty hard man; I guessyou'd better not see him again. Keep those notes--you'll need somemoney to help along, and march out of the hotel right now, and loseyourself as fast as ever you can. You can have ten minutes to do it, while I wait here, and as much longer as I can keep him quiet; butyou've got to be slippy. . .. You shall have your chance!"

Mrs Moffatt gasped for breath, her face twitched convulsively, and shetottered as she stood. 

"You mean that? Oh, God bless you, Cornelia Briskett! If there are anyblessings going, there's no one on earth deserves them more than you. You've saved me this time. Whatever happens in the future, you've givenme a chance. "

"That's so, but the question is, _are you going to take it_? See here!let's strike a bargain over this before you go! You are a clever woman, or you wouldn't have escaped so long, but the game is played out. Itisn't safe to go on, when any moment you may be recognised by people youhave fooled before. You're bound to make a fresh start--why shouldn'tyou try being straight for a change? You'd find it would pay better inthe end. You've got to think, when you leave this to-day, that a girl'swhim is all there is between you and a prison cell. That ought to be apretty bracing remembrance, I should say. . .. Start away with the moneyyou have in hand, and see if you ken't make some more for yourself. There's another thing! You can write to me in a year from now, and tellme where you are, and what you have been about. I'll ferret into everysingle thing, and if it's _straight_, I'll help you again; I'll go _on_helping you! You need never say after this that you cheat becauseyou're obliged. Live straight, and work hard, and I'll see to it thatyou don't want. You've got your chance! . .. I guess you'd betterscoot!"

Mrs Moffatt stood before her, trembling and abject; overcome with apitiful emotion. 

"I'm going! Could you, could you kiss me, Cornelia, before I go?"

Cornelia drew herself up proudly. 

"No, I guess not! We'll leave that over for another time. Some day, perhaps, when you're straight. . .. You'd best not waste any moretime. .. "

"I'm going. I can't thank you. I swear to you--"

"No, don't swear! I don't want any promises. Promise _yourself_;that's the best thing. . .. Good-bye. "

"Good-bye, Cornelia Briskett!"

The door opened, and shut. Cornelia listened with bated breath, but allwas silent from the corridor without. She leant her head on thedressing-table, and burst into a passion of tears. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Guest paced up and down the sitting-room for a quarter of anhour, casting impatient glances at the clock, and pausing now and thento lift the emerald necklace from the table and examine it withwondering curiosity. It was a pretty enough plaything, but from hispoint of view it seemed a preposterous waste of money to sink a coolthousand pounds on its purchase. He mentally ran over the variousnecessary repairs on his own property, which could be completed for thesum, and shrugged his shoulders expressively. Still, women liked suchplaythings, and if one were specially interested in a woman (a woman, say, to whom emeralds were specially becoming!), there would be acertain satisfaction in seeing her wearing the pretty things. It wasconceivable that the pleasure so given might even be as keen as thatderived from a new chimney-stack or a barn!

A vision rose before him; a vision of a ruddy head and snowy shoulders, on which the green light flashed and waned. He saw Cornelia, as she hadappeared, sitting in the front row of the stalls at the theatre, andmentally clasped the necklace round her throat. 

The door opened. He thrust the vision aside, and wheeled round quickly, reassuming his sternest expression. A dejected little girl stood on thethreshold, with dishevelled locks and tear-stained eyes, and as hestared in amazement, she quietly closed the door, and collapsed in alimp little heap on the corner of the sofa. 

"I've--come back!"

"Where's Mrs Moffatt?"

"She's"--the voice broke in a strangled sob--"_gone_!"

"Gone _where_?"

"Gone away. Ten minutes ago. She's ever so far off by now!"

Guest stood still, transfixed with anger and astonishment. 

"Do you mean to say that she escaped before your eyes? What happened?Did you leave her alone in your room?"

"No; I told her to go. I sent her away. It was my suggestion from thestart. "

"You--told--her--to go!" Guest's face was a study of outraged wrath. "After all she has done; after the deliberate way in which she hascheated and deceived you; after the lies she has told; after herthefts, --hundreds of pounds still to pay up! after intending to desertyou in this hotel, you mean to tell me seriously that you _sent_ heraway!"

The tousled head nodded dumbly; two big tears trickled down the reddenedcheeks. 

"Are you aware that you have compounded a felony? If Mr Marchant heardwhat you had done, he could accuse you of being a partner in the crime. Do you know that you have broken the law of the country, and that Icould give you in charge at this moment, if I wished to do so?"

"I guess that's so. --Are you going to do it?"

"That's ridiculous! You know it is, but--"

"Then you're another!" cried Cornelia, laughing through her tears. "You're as bad as I am, so you can't preach! She's gone anyway, andI'm--_glad_! We got the necklace, and for the rest, I'll just have topay up, and look pleasant. Poppar says you've got to pay for experiencein this world. I'll tell him I concluded I'd better learn it prettythoroughly, once I'd started. He won't mind. "

"Your father must be a wealthy man if he can afford to lose four or fivehundred pounds without feeling annoyed!"

Cornelia looked at him quickly, and replied in a tone of studiedindifference. 

"Oh, he's flush enough at the moment. Likely enough we shall be paupersnext year. Don't be angry with me, Captain Guest. I simply _had_ togive her a chance! I can afford to pay up, and if I'd sent her toprison it would have killed the last little mite of self-respect. Itrusted her instead, and I believe that's going to help more than anypunishment. It would _me_! She's had a good old fright, and maybe thiswill be the turning-point in her life. "

Guest's lips curled in eloquent disbelief. He paced slowly up and downthe room, then stationed himself once more in front of the sofa. 

"Did you look over your things to see that they were all right?"

"No! . .. She said she hadn't touched them. "

"Did you make her return the notes?"

"No, I--I guessed she'd need them herself!"

"How extremely considerate! Didn't you feel it necessary to offer her alittle more, while you were about it? To give her another twentypounds, say, to make up the full change for the cheque?"

The face that peered up at him was at once so abashed, so discomfited, so childlike in its humility, that his anger melted before it, and gaveplace to a wave of tenderness. 

"You ridiculous, high-flown, little girl! Who would have believed thatall your shrewd commonsense would collapse like this! No! I'm notangry, I shan't scold any more. The thing's done now, and you've hadenough worry. I'm going to ring the bell, and order some luncheon. Wewill have it here together, and comfort ourselves after all thisexcitement. I'm hungry enough, whatever you are! What shall it be?You are going to treat me, you know, so it must be something good. Roast chicken! That's what ladies generally prefer, and some sweets, and fruit. Claret for me, and what for you? Is it to be--`corfee'--once more?"

He went to the door to give the order to the waiter, accompanied by atip which had the effect of producing the meal in an extraordinarilyshort space of time. Cornelia's appearance being still distinctlydishevelled, Guest dismissed the waiter and himself took the head of thetable, carving the chicken, handing the vegetable dishes, and evenpouring out the coffee. If they had been a honeymoon couple theintimacy of the scene could not have been greater, but in that case hewould have taken his wife in his arms and kissed away her tears. Poor, little, red-eyed girl! There was precious little beauty about her atthe moment, yet she had never appeared more attractive. 

"I ken't eat a bite!" was Cornelia's first melancholy statement, butwhen one wing of the chicken had disappeared from her plate--"It'smighty good!" she said, and promptly set to work on a second. She drankcopious draughts of coffee, began to revive in spirits, and experiencequalms concerning her appearance. "Say! do I look a perfect freak?"

"You look much better than you did ten minutes since. In another tenminutes you will look quite like yourself, if you obey my orders, andeat a good meal. "

Cornelia shrugged expressively. 

"I know what that means! I guess I'm ugly enough to kill. That's why Ihate to cry--it musses one up so for hours after. . .. Captain Guest, what am I going to do next? Can I settle up, and get away to Nortonthis afternoon, do you suppose?"

"I am afraid not. The last train leaves at three o'clock, and that doesnot give enough time for all that has to be done. I was wonderingwhether my aunt--whether you would consent to sleep at her house to-night. "

"Suttenly not! Why should I? It won't be the first time by a good manythat I've stayed a night by myself in a hotel, and there's no reason whyI should move. I'll have my meals up in this room, if it will ease youany, but I won't leave this place till to-morrow morning. Then I'll goback, " she laughed feebly, "to The Nook, and humble pie!"

"You need not tell your aunt what has happened, if you don't choose todo so!"

"Oh, yes; I'll own up! Aunt Soph will be pleased to feel she was right. Maybe she'll like me better when I'm down on my luck. . .. What must Iset about first?"

"I shall interview the hotel manager, and tell him the whole story--that's due to him, you know, or there might be a repetition of theoffence. Then there's the jeweller--he must be warned in the same way, and the necklace returned. I presume you don't want to keep it. "

Cornelia shuddered. 

"Oh, no. I could never wear it. But when Poppar comes over I'll makehim buy me something else instead. Mr Marchant shan't lose! I guessI'd better drive there straight away, and then to the bank. I'll haveto arrange for a pretty big draft. . .. You never know how things aregoing to pan out in this world, do you? I thought I was going to spendthis afternoon on the river, gliding about so sweet and peaceful!"

Guest flushed, hesitated, and--plunged!

"Why shouldn't we go all the same? We can finish our business and stillhave time. If you will allow me, I'll take great care of you and bringyou home before it's dark. It would be too dreary sitting up here byyourself, all the evening. "

Cornelia sprang to her feet, clapping her hands with delight. 

"How lovely! How lovely! You're just the nicest thing! It's sweet ofyou to think of it! Go right away now, and get through with yourinterview, and I'll join you in the lounge as soon as I've prinked, andgotten my face into order. I'll hang my head out of the window, andmassage my nose. . .. Let's go and be happy, and forget all our woes!"

She ran to the door, waved her hand gaily over her shoulder, anddisappeared from sight. 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

When Guest drove round to the hotel next morning to escort Cornelia tothe station, she was surprised to see his own bag on the roof, and tohear that he intended to accompany her all the way to Norton. 

"I want to make sure that you are safely housed once more, " he explainedas they drove off. "I feel a certain responsibility for you, and Ithink perhaps your aunt would like to see me, and hear from a secondperson that everything is satisfactorily settled here. "

"My aunt, " said Cornelia, demurely, "my aunt isn't a mite disposed toacknowledge your responsibility. She thinks you're `dashing'! Shedon't approve of dashing young men. She warned me specially to avoidyou. "

"Humph! dashing, am I? The word has an Early Victorian sound thatsuggests side-whiskers and leg-of-mutton trousers. I'm not at all surethat I'm flattered!" returned Guest, as he alternately stared out of thewindow, and busied himself in arranging the bags on the front seat ofthe cab. 

There was an air of embarrassment in his manner this morning, and hetalked against time, as if anxious not to let the conversation come to apause. The afternoon on the river had been a delightful experience, abundantly proving the truth of his prophecy that it would be impossibleto be bored in Cornelia's society. She had looked very sweet in hersoftened mood, and as they drifted down the stream together, hadprattled away in simple, confiding fashion, telling him the story of herlife; of the ups and downs which she and her Poppar had known together;of her own individual adventures. He learnt that she was not engaged, and had never been in love, though there were always heaps of admirers"prancing" round. She intended to marry some day, however. Why, suttenly! Just as soon as ever the right man hove along. What was thegood of being a woman, if you didn't have your own home, and your ownhusband and children! Then she looked at him with her clear, goldeneyes, and inquired how it was with himself. Was he in love?

"No!" answered Guest, but, even as he spoke, he knew in his heart thathe lied. In the guise of a Yankee stranger, who embodied in herself allthe traits which he most condemned, the one woman of his life hadappeared. He loved--and the woman whom he loved was Cornelia Briskett!

After that, conversation languished. Guest was too much bewildered bythe sudden realisation of his position to wish to talk, and Cornelia haddeveloped a headache as a result of the morning's emotion. She was gladto be quiet; to allow herself to be led about, and cared for, and toldwhat she must do. 

"Just like a `nice young girl'!" she said, laughingly as they parted inthe lounge of the hotel. "If I lived over here long enough--there's notelling--I might grow into a Moss Rose myself!"

"I wish you would! I wish you would! Won't you try?" Guest criedeagerly. He, himself, did not know what he really meant by the inquiry, for the words had sprung to his lips almost without thought. He was asmuch startled by the sound of them as was Cornelia herself. He saw thedismay in her eyes, the dawning comprehension; he saw something elsealso--the first flicker of self-consciousness, the first tell-tale droopof the lids. She put him off with a light answer, and he went out topace the streets until the night closed around him. . .. What was thisthat had happened, and what was it going to mean? One week--a week tothe day since he had first met this girl and conceived a violent disliketo her on the spot. Voice, accent, and manner had alike jarred on hisnerves: she had appeared in every respect the opposite to the decorous, soft-voiced, highly-bred, if somewhat inane, damsel who represented hisideal of feminine charm. One week ago! What magic did she possess, this little red-haired, white-faced girl, to make such short work of thescruples of a lifetime? What was this mysterious feminine charm whichblinded his senses to everything but just herself, and the dearness ofher, and the longing to have her for his own? The jarring element hadnot disappeared, the difference of thought still existed, but for themoment he was oblivious of their existence. For the first time in histhree-and-thirty years he was in love, and had room for no otherthought. 

The morning brought colder reflections. When--supposing he evermarried, it would be wormwood and gall to see his wife condemned by hisfriends! He had looked forward to espousing the daughter of someirreproachable county family, and returning to his old home to live infrugal state for the rest of his life; driving to church in the oldbarouche, attending a succession of dull, country-house dinners; takingthe chair at village meetings. He tried to imagine Cornelia spendinglong, peaceful years as the squire's wife, contentedly pottering aboutthe village, superintending Dorcas meetings, and finding recreation inoccasional garden parties, where the same people met the same people, attired in the same frocks, and sat meekly in rows, drinking claret cupand sour lemonade, but the effort failed. Cornelia obstinately refusedto fit into the niche. He could summon up a vision of her, indeed, butit was a disconcerting vision, in which she "pranced round, " while theneighbourhood turned its back, and pursed disapproving lips. 

He was attracted by the girl--seriously attracted, _but_-- It was agreat big _but_, and he promised himself to be cautious, to think longand well before taking the plunge. All the same, it seemed imperativethat he should return to Norton. His aunt was always delighted to puthim up, and he could not be happy until he had satisfied himself thatall was well with Cornelia once more. Incidentally also, he wasinterested to know what was happening at the Manor. 

On the journey to Norton the presence of fellow-travellers kept theconversation necessarily impersonal, and at the station Corneliadismissed her escort, refusing point blank to drive with him to thePark. 

"I'm going back as a sorrowing penitent, and it don't suit the part todrive up with a dashing young man. There are only two players in thisact, and they are Aunt Soph and myself. You come round in the evening, when I've paved the way. "

"Till to-night, then!" said Guest, raising his hat. Once again, as helooked at her through the window of the cab, the clear eyes waveredbefore his own; once again his scruples vanished. He loved, and theworld held nothing but that glad fact. 

Cornelia exhibited much diplomacy in her interview with her aunt. Seated at the good lady's feet in an attitude of childlike humility, sherelated the story of her adventures in simple, unexaggerated language, without any attempt at self-justification. 

"I ought to have guessed from the start; but it seems I'm not as smartas I thought. They had me, the whole way through. You were right, yousee, and I was wrong. I should have taken your advice. Guess it willbe a lesson to me!"

"I trust it may prove so, my dear! a dearly-bought, but invaluablelesson!" quoth Miss Briskett, blandly. So far from being incensed, sheactually purred with satisfaction, for had not the truant returned homein a humble and tractable spirit, ready to acknowledge and apologise forher error? Her good humour was such that she bore the shock of hearingof Guest's role in the drama with comparative composure. 

"He seems, " she declared, "to have comported himself with considerablejudgment, but, my dear Cornelia, if anything more were needed todemonstrate the necessity for caution and restraint in the future, itmust surely be the remembrance that you were driven into such intimaterelationship with a man whose acquaintance you had made but a few shortdays before! It seems to me that the recollection must be painfullyembarrassing to any nice young girl. "

"Yes, 'um!" said Cornelia, meekly. She lowered her eyelids, and hercheeks flushed to a vivid pink. Such a typical picture did she make ofa modest and abashed young girl, that the spinster's stern face relaxedinto a smile, and she laid her hand affectionately upon the ruddy locks. 

"There! there! We will say no more about it--

 "`Repentance is to leave The sins we loved before; And show that we in earnest grieve By doing so _no more_!'

"Another time you will be guided by wiser counsels!"

". .. Have you missed me, Aunt Soph, while I've been away?"

"Er--the house has seemed very quiet, " replied Miss Briskett, truthfully. "I am sorry that I am obliged to leave you this afternoon, my dear, but I have promised to attend a committee meeting at fouro'clock. You will be glad to rest after your journey, and to unpack andget your things put neatly away. "

"Has Elma come home?"

"She returned yesterday morning. I saw the dog-cart from the Manorwaiting outside the gate this morning. Mrs Ramsden told me the otherday that Elma's health was completely restored. "

Cornelia pondered over these scanty items of news as she sat at hersolitary tea an hour later. Elma was well; Elma had returned home. Adog-cart from the Manor had been observed waiting outside the gate ofThe Holt that morning. A dog-cart! Imagination failed to picture thepicturesque figure of Madame perched on the high seat of thatundignified vehicle. If the cart had not conveyed the mother, it must, in all probability, have conveyed the son. The dog-cart had been_waiting_! The deduction was obvious to the meanest intellect. Geoffrey Greville had driven down to see Elma the morning after herdeparture, and had spent a considerable time in her society!

Suddenly Cornelia realised that her anxiety could brook no delay, andthat it would be impossible to spend another night without discoveringhow the Moss Rose had fared during her absence. She despatched Mary toThe Holt with a verbal message to the effect that she had returned fromtown, and, if convenient, would much like to see Miss Ramsden for a fewminutes before six o'clock, and while she was still at tea the answerwas received; a note this time, written in pencil, and bearing marks ofhaste and agitation. 

 "Dearest Cornelia, --Yes, of course! I _am_ thankful you are back. Come right up to my room. It's perfectly wretched here, but I'm so happy! Elma. "

Cornelia rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and indulged in an expressivewhistle. Contradictory as Elma's epistle might have appeared to anordinary reader, she understood it readily enough. It was Mrs Ramsdenwho was wretched, Elma who was happy--"_so_ happy, " despite theatmosphere of disapproval. The crisis had arrived!

In five minutes' time, Cornelia was in her friend's room, holding herhands, gazing into her face, kissing her flaming cheeks. 

"Elma, _is_ it? It is! I can see it in your face! Oh, you dear thing!When? How? I'm crazy to know. Tell me every single thing. "

Elma laughed; a delicious little laugh of conscious happiness. 

"Yes, yes, it is! Oh, Cornelia, isn't it wonderful? I can't believeit! It's partly your doing, you know, and I love you for that, butdoesn't it seem impossible that he can really care for--_me_!" Sheturned her exquisite, flower-like face towards her friend, with anexpression of humility as sweet as it was sincere. "He might have hadanybody, and he chooses--_me_! Oh, Cornelia, I never knew that onecould live, and be so happy! It seems like a dream. "

"Wake up, then, and get down to facts! I'm crazy to hear all about it. When was it settled?"

"This morning. "

"Only this morning! I calculated it would come off Monday at latest. "

"No, it didn't. Of course he was very--I mean, I knew--we bothunderstood, but Geoffrey says he couldn't possibly have spoken plainlywhile I was a guest under his own roof. It wouldn't have been the rightthing. He was obliged to wait till I got home!"

"My! how mediaeval. I should have thought Geoffrey Greville had moresnap to him, than to hang on to such worn-out notions. Fancy lettingyou go away, and driving down in cold blood next morning! It's thedullest thing!"

"It's not dull at all!" contradicted Elma, hotly. "It's noble, andmanly, and self-sacrificing. I love him for it--

 "`I could not love thee, dear, so much Loved I not honour more!'"

"Shucks!" sniffed Cornelia, scornfully. "I'd as lief have a little lesshigh-falutin', and a lot more push. I wouldn't mind if it was his houseten times over, I'd want him to feel he couldn't wait another fiveminutes, and settle it off, so's we could have a good time together. Ifhe let me come away, not knowing if he were in fun or earnest, I'd haveled him a pretty dance for his pains. But you're so meek; I bet youdropped into his mouth like a ripe plum!"

Elma drew herself up with a charming dignity. 

"I told him the truth without any pretences, if that is what you mean, "she said quietly. "I am perfectly satisfied with Geoffrey's behaviour, and I'd rather not discuss it, Cornelia, please. We may seem old-fashioned to you, but we understand each other, and there is not athing--not a single thing--I would wish altered. I am perfectly, utterly happy!"

"Bless you, you sweet thing, I see you are, and I'm happy for you!Never mind how it happened; it _has_ happened, and that's good enough. . .. How's Mrs Ramsden bearing up?"

Elma's face fell. For a person who had just proclaimed herselfcompletely happy, she looked astonishingly worried and perturbed. 

"Oh, my dear, such a scene! I took Geoffrey in to see her, and shecouldn't have been more horrified if he had been the most desperatecharacter in the world. She refused to listen to a word. You would nothave recognised mother, she was so haughty and distant, and--rude! Somethings she said were horribly rude. After he went, she cried! That wasthe worst of all. She cried, and said she had given her whole life forme for twenty-three years, and was I going to break her heart as areward? I cried, too, and said, No, I should love her more, not less, but she wouldn't listen. She said if I married Geoffrey it would be asbad as a public refutation of all the principles which I had professedsince childhood. Then she called him names, and I got angry. We didn'tspeak a word all through lunch, and as soon as it was over she sent fora fly to drive to the Manor. She's there still!"

"Shut up with Madame, hatching the plan of campaign! Madame won't likeit any better, I suppose!"

Elma flushed miserably. 

"No; she's against us, too! Geoffrey told her what he was coming for, and--isn't it curious?--she was quite surprised! She had not suspecteda bit, and I'm afraid she was pretty cross. Geoffrey wouldn't let mesay it, but I know she doesn't think me good enough. I'm not; that'squite true. No one knows it better than I. "

"If you say that again, I'll shake you! You're a heap too good for thebest man that ever lived. Mind now, Elma, don't start out on thisbusiness by eating humble pie! You've got to hold up your end of thestick for all you're worth, and let them see you won't be sat upon. When you feel redooced, go and sit in front of the glass for a spell, and ask yourself if he won't be a lucky man to have that vista acrossthe table all the rest of his life. Don't be humble with _him_, whatever happens! Make him believe he's got the pick of the bundle!"

"He--he does!" said Elma, and blushed again. "It makes me ashamed tohear him talk about me, for I know I am really so different. He wouldnot have thought me so sweet if he had heard me scolding mother thismorning. Poor mother! I'm so terribly sorry for her. It must be hardto care for a child for twenty-three years, as she says, and then haveto step aside for a stranger. I sympathised with every word she said, and knew that I should have felt the same. My head was with her all thetime, but my heart"--she clasped her hands to her side with theprettiest of gestures--"my heart was with Geoffrey! Reason's not a bitof use, Cornelia, when you're in love. "

"Well!" said Cornelia, firmly, "my heart's got to wait and behaveitself, until my head goes along at the same pace. I've not kept it inorder for twenty-three years to have it weaken at the last moment. I'llstick to my guns, whatever it may cost. "

Elma looked at her with surprised curiosity. 

"Why, you talk as if, as if you were in love, too! I wish you _were_!We could sympathise with each other so beautifully. _Are_ you in love, Cornelia? You never said so before. "

Cornelia turned to the window and gazed out on the forbidden grass ofthe Park. Her face was hidden from view, and she answered by anotherquestion, put in slow, thoughtful tones. --"What is love? You seem tofeel pretty certain that yours is the genuine article. Define it forme! How do you feel when you are in dear Geoffrey's society?"

"Happy! so wonderfully happy that I seem to walk on air. Everythingseems beautiful, and I love everybody, and long to make them as happy asmyself. Nothing troubles me any more. It seems as if nothing could_ever_ trouble me. Geoffrey's there! He is like a great big rock, which will shelter me all my life. "

"Do you feel one moment that it's the cutest thing in the world to sitright there in the shade and be fussed over, and the next as if youwanted to knock the rock down _flat_, and march away down your own road?Do you feel blissful one moment and the next all worked up, and fit toscratch? When he's kinder big and superior, and the natural protector, do you feel ugly; or inclined to cave in, and honour and obey?"

Elma stared at her with shocked blue eyes. 

"Of _course_ I'll obey! Geoffrey is so wise and clever. He knows somuch better than I. I'm only too thankful to let him decide for usboth. You talk so strangely, Cornelia; I don't understand--"

Cornelia swung round quickly, and kissed her upon the cheek. 

"Never mind, sweetling!" she said fondly, "don't _try_ to understand!You are better off as you are. It is women like you who have the besttime in the world, and are the most loved. I wish I were like you, butI'm not, so what's the use of repining. I am as I wor' created!"

She laughed, but the laugh had a forced, unnatural sound. Elma saw withdismay a glimmer of tears in the golden eyes. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

For a whole week the battle raged; the battle between youth and age, love and the world. Elma pleaded for patience and self-restraint, Geoffrey urged defiance and independence; Mrs Ramsden quoted Scripture, and made constant reference to serpents' teeth, while Madame remainedcharmingly satirical, refusing to treat the matter otherwise than as ajoke, laughing at Geoffrey's rhapsodies, and assuring him that he wassuffering from an attack of sun, from which recovery would be swift andcertain. Rupert Guest and Cornelia hurried to and fro on the outskirtsof the fray, in the character of aides-de-camp carrying messages, andadministering encouragement and consolation. Every morning Cornelia satin conclave with her friend in the prosaic Victorian drawing-room whichtook the place of the turret chamber of romance. Elma would notcondescend to hold stolen interviews with her lover, while both familiesso strongly opposed the engagement, so she shut herself up in the house, growing daily whiter and thinner, wandering aimlessly from room to room, and crying helplessly upon her bed. It was as a breath of freshmountain air when Cornelia appeared upon the scene, bearing always thesame terse, practical advice--"Make sure of your own mind, and--_stick_to it!"

The colour came back to Elma's face as she listened, and hope revived inher heart. She declared anew that nothing in the world should separateher from Geoffrey; that she would be true to him to the last day of herlife. Cornelia repeated these touching vows in conclave with Guestbehind the shrubbery of the Park, and then he went off post-haste to theManor, to cheer Geoffrey with the news of the steadfast loyalty of his_fiancee_. Second-hand assurances soon pall, however, on the youthfullover, and after a week had passed by, Geoffrey suddenly waxeddesperate, and announced that he would not submit to the separation foranother hour. He was perfectly capable of choosing his own wife, Elmawas of age, and at liberty to decide for herself. He would go down toThe Holt that very afternoon and have it out with the old lady, once forall. If his mother liked to accompany him, so much the better. She andMrs Ramsden could each have their say, and then he and Elma would havetheirs. For his part he warned them that no arguments could move himfrom his point, but they might see what they would do with Elma!Perhaps they could persuade Elma to give him up!

He smiled as he spoke, in proud, self-confident fashion, but Madamelooked at him thoughtfully, smoothed the ruffles on her sleeves, andreplied in her sweetest tones--

"Dear boy, yes! quite a good idea. Let us talk it over like sensiblepeople. Elma has such truly nice feelings. --I feel sure we may trusther decision!"

Geoffrey sat him down forthwith to indite a letter to his love, warningher of the ordeal ahead in a couple of lines, and enlarging on his owndevotion for the rest of the sheet, which missive was entrusted to Guestwhen he paid his daily visit to the Manor. "I mean to put an end tothis nonsense, once for all, " the Squire declared firmly. "You must besick of trotting to and fro with these everlasting messages, but therewon't be any more need for them after to-day. "

Guest expressed his gratification, and started forth on his returnjourney profoundly depressed in spirit. With the end of the strifewould end his daily meetings with Cornelia, which alone kept him inNorton. Miss Briskett's attitude on the occasion of his one call at TheNook had not encouraged him to repeat the experiment. He smiled tohimself whenever he recalled the picture of the heavily-furnished room, the sharp-faced spinster, with her stiff, repellent manner, and the slimfigure of Cornelia sitting demurely in the background, drooping her eyesto the ground whenever her aunt looked in her direction, and wrinklingher nose at him in pert little grimaces when the good lady's back wasturned, so that he had had hard work to preserve his gravity. Sincethat evening they had met daily in the shrubbery of the Park, thoughonly for a few minutes at a time, for Cornelia steadily refused to sitdown, or to linger by his side in a manner which would suggest that theassignation was on her behalf, as well as that of her friend. 

Guest was always the first to arrive at the meeting-place, and wascareful to remain standing in a position from which he could watch thegirl's approach. In these bright summer days Cornelia was invariablydressed in white, her short skirts standing out above her feet in amanner peculiar to herself, and the fashion plates. She wore shady hatswhich dipped over her face, and curved upward at the sides, showing theburnished waves of her wonderful hair. At first sight she gave theimpression of looking pale and ill, but invariably by the time shereached his side, her cheeks were pink, and he forgot his anxiety indelight and admiration. 

To-day his manner was less buoyant than usual, as he delivered the noteinto her hands. 

"An ultimatum at last! Geoffrey and Madame propose to storm the citadelthis afternoon. Quite time, too! I wonder he has waited so long. Ishould have come to blows on the second day. . .. Fancy hanging about awhole week when a girl like that was waiting to see you!"

Cornelia turned the letter round and round, staring at it the while withabsent eyes. 

"You used to say that he would never marry her . .. That she was not asuitable wife . .. That it would be a great mistake if he did. .. "

"I used to say a great many foolish things, " said Guest, quietly. "Ididn't know what I was talking about, you see. Now I do! If she is thewoman he loves, all the little differences go for nothing. I hope hewill marry her, and I believe that they will be happy--"

Cornelia twirled to and fro on the heels of her pointed shoes, andtilted her chin with a pretence at indifference. 

"Well! I guess it won't help things on if I hang about gossiping here. She ought to have this letter at once, to think out what she's going tosay. Poor little Elma! She'll have a rough time with those two mammasfiring away at her at the same time. Mrs Ramsden will plump forprinciple, and Madame for convention. It doesn't seem to either of_them_ that love is enough! They both believe they know a heap betterwhat's good for the young people than they do themselves. _And they'vebeen through it_! You can't get away from that. . .. They've beenthrough it, and away at the other end they are going to do all they knowto prevent their own son and their own daughter from the folly ofmarrying for love!. .. "

"People--some people--seem to keep no memory of youth in middle age!It's a pity, for it destroys their influence. In the end, however, itis the young people who decide. . .. These two ought to know their ownminds, for it has not been a hurried affair. They have known each otherfor years, and have been more and more attracted. That is a duty whicha man and a woman owe to each other in these circumstances--to make surethat what they are offering is real and lasting! I suppose only timecan prove this. . .. We shall see what this afternoon brings forth. Inany case I am needed no longer. --I thought of going north to-morrowmorning to pay a couple of visits. "

The hand that was playing with the letter was still for a moment, and analmost imperceptible quiver straightened the white figure. For a momentGuest saw, or imagined that he saw, a shadow flit across the girl'sface, but it passed as quickly as it came. She tilted her head, andsaid calmly--

"I guess you're right! We've done our turn, and now they've got to fendfor themselves. I hope you'll have a real good time. . .. Mr Grevillewill let you know when the wedding's fixed!"

"Oh, I shall be back at the end of three or four weeks, before there'sany talk of dates, I expect! I shall see you again in July. " Hepaused, looking at her with sudden uneasy suspicion. "You will be herein July? There is no chance that you may be away paying other visits?"

Cornelia shook her head. 

"I have no other relations over here. So far as I know at present, Ishall stay on here until Poppar comes over to fetch me. We're going tofly round together for two or three months after that. "

Guest drew a sigh of relief, but as he took Cornelia's outstretched handin his own to say good-bye, he added a hesitating request--

"If for any unexpected reason you should be leaving Norton during thenext three or four weeks, will you let me know? A line to my club willalways be forwarded. If there were any uncertainty about seeing youagain, I--" his voice lost its level tone, and became husky anddisconnected. "These visits don't matter. --I could put them off. --I am_making_ myself go, because. .. " His fingers tightened over hers ininvoluntary appeal, "Cornelia! I wonder if you understand what is in mymind?"

She looked into his kindled face with serious, unwavering eyes. For amoment it appeared as if she had some difficulty in managing her voice, but when she spoke it was calm and self-possessed as ever. 

"I understand that you've been a real true friend to me, Captain Guest, and I'm grateful for all the good times we've had together. .. That'sall we need worry about to-day. Elma is waiting! I mustn't keep herlonger. . .. Good-bye again! I wish you a real pleasant time!"

She drew her hand from his, gently enough, yet with a determinationwhich could not be opposed. In her voice there was the same note offinality; the composure of her pale, fixed look checked the words onGuest's lips, and left him chilled and wondering. 

"For three weeks, then!" he murmured softly, but no echoing assurancecame in reply. 

Cornelia carried the all-important message to Elma in her den, cheeredher with affectionate prophecies, and hurried back to the shelter of herown bedroom. Safe behind locked doors she stood before the mirror onher dressing-table, staring at her own reflection with the implacableair of a judge regarding a prisoner at the bar. The slight figure washeld proudly erect, the lips set in a straight, hard line, but theeyes--poor tell-tale woman's eyes!--the eyes wavered, and on the whitecheeks flamed two patches of rosy red. Cornelia turned on her heel, and, crossing the room to her writing-table, tore open a letter whichlay there already addressed to her father in America. It was a long, cheerfully-written epistle, containing constant references to hiscoming, and to the good time which they were to enjoy together. Withdeliberate fingers she tore it in pieces and dropped the fragments intothe waste-paper basket. The missive, which was written in its stead wasshort, and to the point--

 "My old Poppar!--This is just a business note that has got to be attended to in a hurry. Well-brought-up-parents do what they're told, and ask no questions. There are breakers ahead over here. They don't concern Aunt Soph; I've broken the back of that worry, and we get along a treat. Heart trouble, daddy! Symptoms unfavourable, and ultimate collapse preventable only by speedy change of scene. 

 "Sit down straight away and write a letter I can show round, summoning me home by the first boat! You can call it an `urgent crisis. ' It's as true as taxes, though not in the way they take it. I've got to run, and that's all there is to it. Our jaunt must wait till another day. You must comfort me, Poppar, --you and America!--Your lonesome, Cornelia. "

She did not pause to read over what she had written, but, fastening itin an envelope, pealed the bell, which brought Mary running blithely toher service. For once, however, the devoted slave ventured to raise afeeble objection. 

"_Now_, Miss Cornelia? I'm in the middle of my silver. It will go justas soon if it's posted by half-past three!"

Cornelia glanced at her with the air of an offended goddess. 

"I said now, and I _mean_ now! This instant, before you touch anotherone thing. Post it with your own hands, and come up here to tell meit's done!"

Mary vanished in a whirl of starched cotton skirts, rushed to thepillar-box at the corner of the Park, and in five minutes' time was backat the bedroom door to proclaim her obedience. Cornelia was stillstanding in the middle of the room. It appeared to the maid that shehad not altered her position by as much as an inch since she had seenher last. Her expression was tense with expectation. 

"It's gone, miss! I put it in myself!"

The golden eyes regarded her strangely. 

"Did you, Mury?" said Cornelia, low. She paused a moment as though toform some expression of acknowledgment, but it did not come. "Sometime, " she continued slowly, "some time, Mury, I believe I'm going tothank you very much, but to-day I don't feel like gushing. . .. You cango back to your work. "

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

"I suppose I must give them tea!" was Mrs Ramsden's comment uponhearing of the visit which had been planned for the afternoon. Herdepression was broken by a struggling sense of elation, for it was notevery day that Madame deigned to accept hospitality from her neighbours. She despatched a messenger to the confectioner's to purchase a pound ofplum cake, a muffin, and half a pound of macaroons, the invariablepreparations under such circumstances, and gave instructions that thebest silver and china should be brought out of their hiding-places, withthe finest tablecloth and d'oyleys. At three o'clock Elma discoveredher removing the covers from the drawing-room cushions, and folding themneatly away in the chiffonnier. Something in the simple action touchedthe girl, and broke down the hard wall of reserve which had risenbetween her mother and herself during the past painful week. Shestretched out impulsive arms, and stooped her head to kiss the troubledface. 

"You funny little mother! What do cushions matter? Geoffrey will nevernotice them, and Madame"--she hesitated, unwilling to hurt her mother'sfeelings by hinting at Madame's opinion of the satin splendours socarefully preserved from sight--"Madame won't care! . .. She is notcoming to admire fancy-work!"

Mrs Ramsden lifted a flushed, tear-stained face to look at her daughterstanding before her, lovely and slender in the blue muslin gown whichhad been Cornelia's gift. The daintiness of the dress, its unaccustomedsmartness and air of fashion, seemed at the moment a presage of thethreatened separation. At the sight, and the sound of the softenedvoice, the tears streamed afresh, and she cried brokenly--

"Elma! Elma! My child! I beg you at the eleventh hour--think!consider! remember all that I have striven to teach you! . .. You haveprayed to resist temptation--what is the use of your prayers if theydon't avail you in your hour of need? Elma, I know it will be hard!Don't think I shall not suffer with you--but if it is right. . .. Thereis no happiness, my child, if we depart from the right course!"

"I know it, mother, " said Elma, calmly. "If you or Madame can convinceme that I should be doing wrong in marrying Geoffrey I will give him up!I promise you that, and you must promise me in return that you will tryto see things from our point of view as well as your own. Remember, it's my life that is at stake, and I'm so young! I may have such a longtime to live. Some girls have a dozen fancies before they are twenty-three, but I have never thought of anyone else. . .. From the first timethat I met Geoffrey I knew that he was the one man for me. You havebeen happily married yourself, mother! Could you bear to spoil ourhappiness?"

Mrs Ramsden winced at the sound of that significant little pronoun, which now, for the first time in twenty-three years, failed to includeherself. Now she was an outsider, for her child's heart and life alikehad passed from her keeping: It is a bitter moment for all mothers;doubly bitter when, as to Mrs Ramsden, the supplanter seems unworthy ofhis trust. 

"Happiness is not everything, Elma! I hope, --I hope I am strong enoughto endure even to see you suffer for your ultimate good. "

She mopped her eyes with her handkerchief, while Elma turned aside, realising sadly that it was useless to prolong the discussion. Presently Geoffrey and his mother would arrive and then they would allconsult together. Elma had not rehearsed her own share in theconversation; the all-important decision was in the last issue to beleft to herself, and she had spoken the simple truth in saying that shewished above all things to do what was right. Her life's training hadinstilled the conviction that no happiness was possible at the cost of asacrifice of principle. If she could be once convinced that it waswrong to marry Geoffrey Greville, she would give him up as unflinchinglyas any martyr of old walked to the stake, but she must be convinced onthe ground of principle alone! Pride, prejudice, convention, would passher by, leaving her unshaken in her determination to marry the man sheloved. 

At four o'clock the great landau from the Manor drove up to the gate, and from within the shrouded windows mother and daughter watched thegroom jump lightly from his seat, to shield the grey froth of Madame'sdraperies as she stepped to the ground. To Mrs Ramsden the scene wasan eloquent illustration of the world, the flesh and the devil; theworld exemplified by the carriage with its handsome trappings, itsvaluable horses, and liveried attendants; the flesh by Madame--a pictureof elegance in cloudy grey draperies, her silvery locks surmounted by aflower-wreathed toque, her cheeks faintly pink beneath the old laceveil--the devil!--it was a hard word to apply to the handsome, resoluteyoung fellow who followed his mother up the gravel path, but at themoment Geoffrey Greville appeared in Mrs Ramsden's eyes as thedestroyer of her happiness, the serpent who had brought discord intoEden! She was in truth an honest little Puritan in whose sight the goodthings of the world were but as snares and pitfalls. So far fromfeeling any pleasure in the thought that her daughter might one dayreign as the great lady of the neighbourhood, the prospect filled herwith unaffected dread, and the needle's eye had been quoted almost asfrequently as the serpent's teeth, during the last week. She turnedaway from the window with a shudder of distress. 

The door opened, and Madame entered, bringing with her that faint, delicious fragrance of violets which seemed inseparable from her person. Contrary to her hostess's expectation, she was wreathed in smiles, andeven more gracious than of yore. She pressed the plump little handextended towards her, kissed Elma on the cheek, exclaimed prettily uponthe comfort of the chair to which she was escorted, and chatted aboutthe weather as if her coming were an ordinary society call. MrsRamsden, being unaccustomed to the ways of fashionable warfare, wasflurried and thrown off her balance by so unexpected an opening to thefray, and had hard work to answer connectedly. She was, moreover, keenly on the alert to watch the meeting between Elma and Geoffrey, whomshe had not seen in each other's company since the fatal visit to theManor. They shook hands without speaking a word, but their eyes met, and at the sight of that look, the onlooker thrilled with a memory oflong ago. That glance, that silent hand-grasp softened her heart morethan a hundred arguments. It was an ocular demonstration of what haduntil now been merely words!

The trim maid brought in the tea-tray and proceeded to set it out on thelittle table in front of her mistress. It was a good hour earlier thanthe time when the meal was served at the Manor, but the little businessof handing round cups and cake broke the embarrassment of the first fewminutes, and was therefore welcome to all. Elma began as usual to waitupon her guests, but Geoffrey took the plates out of her hand with anair of gentle authority, which the elder ladies were quick to note. Itwas the air of the master, the proprietor; as significant in its way aswas Elma's blushing obedience. Once again Mrs Ramsden felt a pang ofremembrance, but Madame arched her eyebrows, and tapped her foot on thefloor in noiseless irritation. It was time that this nonsense came toan end!

"Well, dear people, " she began airily, "let us get to business! It's somuch wiser to talk things over quietly, when there is anymisunderstanding. I thought it was so clever of Geoffrey to suggestthis meeting. Letters are quite useless. One always forgets the mostimportant things, or, if one remembers, they look so horriblydisagreeable in black and white, and people bring them up against oneyears afterwards. Dear Elma, I'm afraid you think me a cruel old woman!I am desolated to appear so unfeeling, especially as I should certainlyhave fallen in love with you in Geoffrey's place, but it's not always aquestion of doing what we like in this world. I am sure your dearmother has taught you that. I said to Geoffrey: `Elma has such sweet, true feelings, I shall be quite satisfied to trust to her decision whenthe matter has been put fully before her!'"

"Thank you, " said Elma, faintly. She had put down her cup, and now satwith her fingers clasped tightly together on her lap. The two elderladies faced her from the opposite side of the room; Geoffrey fidgetedabout, and finally seated himself--not by her side, as had obviouslybeen his first impulse--but some little distance away, where he couldwatch the expression of her face. Mrs Ramsden pushed the tea-tableaside, and fidgeted with the jet trimming on her cuff. 

"I--er, I think we should get on better if Mr Greville would--wouldkindly leave us alone!" she said awkwardly. "We are well acquaintedwith his arguments, and as Elma is to decide, there seems no object inhis staying on. Elma will, no doubt, feel quieter and less restrainedwithout his presence. "

Madame's murmur of agreement was interrupted by a sharp exclamation fromher son. He looked flushed and angry, but Elma checked him in his turn, and answered herself, in clear, decided accents! "No, mother! I shallfeel much better if Geoffrey is here. I don't want him to go. If I ampersuaded to give him up, it is only right that he should know myreasons. He will promise to listen quietly to what you have to say, asI am going to do, and not to interrupt until you have done. " She turnedtowards her lover with a flickering smile. "Won't you, Geoffrey?"

Geoffrey bit his moustache, and scowled heavily. 

"I'll--do my best!" he said slowly. "I'm not going away in any case. It's preposterous to suppose that I could be absent while such adiscussion was going on. Elma knows that this is a matter of life anddeath to me. If you persuade her to give me up, it will be sending mestraight to the devil!"

Mrs Ramsden's eyes flashed with anger. 

"If an earthly love is the only incentive you have to follow the pathsof righteousness, Mr Greville, that is a poor inducement to me to givemy child into your care! I have brought her up to put principle firstof all. It is my chief objection to yourself that your character is notworthy of the trust!"

"My dear lady, he is not a pickpocket! You speak as if he were ahardened criminal, " cried Madame, with an irritated laugh. "Geoffreymay not be a saint, but I assure you that, considered as a young man ofthe world, he is quite a model specimen! He has been an excellent son. There have been no debts; no troubles of any kind. Absolutely, at timesI have accused him of being almost too staid. . .. One can only be youngonce!. .. "

"I think you and Mrs Ramsden have somewhat different standards, mother, " put in Geoffrey quietly. He turned towards the last-mentionedlady, bending forward and speaking with deliberate emphasis. "I quiteagree with you, Mrs Ramsden, that I am unworthy of your daughter. Iwish I had been a better man for her sake. With her to help me I hope Imight become a man more after your own heart. As my mother says, I haveso far been a respectable member of society, for the things which youcondemn in me are after all matters of opinion, but at this moment Istand at the parting of the ways. If you give me Elma, I shall lookupon her as a sacred trust, and shall be a better man for her sake. I_must_ be a better man with her beside me! . .. If you refuse; if sherefuses"--he shrugged expressively--"you empty my life of all I value. The responsibility will be upon your shoulders!"

"That is not true! You can depute to nobody the responsibility of yourown soul, " Mrs Ramsden began solemnly, but Madame interrupted with animpatient gesture. 

"I thought Geoffrey was not to interfere! For pity's sake don't let uswaste time talking sentiment! We are here to discuss this matter in asensible, business manner. Let us begin at once, and not waste time!"

To her surprise Elma met her glance with a smile. A happy, composedlittle smile, which brought the dimples into her soft cheeks. Reallythe child was wonderful! Her quietness and self-possession were indelightful contrast with her mother's flustered solemnity. Madamereturned the smile, with restored equanimity, and felt a thrill ofartistic satisfaction. 

"I am afraid Geoffrey and I hardly look at our engagement from abusiness point of view!" said Elma, slowly. "It _is_ a matter ofsentiment with us, and we are not a bit ashamed of it, but I must answermother first. . .. Mother, dear, you are shocked because Geoffrey sayshe would not be good without me, but when _you_ were young, when youwere careless, and enjoyed things which you disapprove of now, was thereno good influence in your life which helped you to be strong? It mayhave been a companion, or a book, or a sermon--one of a hundred things--but when it came, weren't you thankful for it? Didn't you hold close toit and fear lest it should go? I am Geoffrey's influence! I'm glad andproud that it is so. If I can help him in one little way, I'd rather doit than anything else in all the world! When he feels like that aboutme, I should think it very, very wrong to give him up. "

"Elma, my dear, these are specious arguments! You are deceivingyourself, and preparing a bitter awakening! Mr Greville does not evenunderstand what he is promising. His ideas and yours are different asnight from day; the same words convey different meanings to you and him. You would find as you talked together that there was a gulf between youon every serious subject. "

"No, mother, dear, there is no gulf. We agree--we always agree! I amamazed to find how marvellously we agree, " said Elma, simply. Geoffrey's eyes flashed a look at her; a look of adoring triumph. Madame screwed her lips on one side, and stared markedly at a corner ofthe ceiling. Mrs Ramsden wrung her hands in despair. 

"Elma, you pray every night to be delivered from temptation--considerwhat your position would be if you married Mr Greville! Ask yourselfif you are strong enough to resist pride and selfishness, and absorptionin the things of this world. Many would say that it was a great matchfor you, but I would rather see you settled in a cottage with enoughmoney for your daily needs. It is easier for a camel--"

Elma interrupted quickly. 

"I don't think you need be afraid, mother. I love beautiful things, buttruly and honestly I believe they are good for me! It is a littledifficult to explain, but ugly things--inartistic things, _jar_! Theymake me feel cross and discontented, while beauty is a joy! I need notbecome proud and self-engrossed because the things around me arebeautiful and rich with associations. On the contrary, they ought to dome good. I'd _love_ them so, and be so thankful, that I should wantother people to enjoy them, too. It isn't riches themselves that onecares for--it is the things that riches can give!"

Madame had been watching the girl's face as she spoke, her ownexpression kindling in sympathy with views so entirely in accordancewith her own, but at the last sentence her brows knitted. 

"It's not a case of riches, my dear!" she said quickly. "I don't thinkyou understand the position. Geoffrey is a poor man. The estate bringsin little more than half what it did in his father's time, and theexpense of keeping it up increases rather than diminishes, as thebuildings grow older. He ought to marry money. All these years we havelived in the expectation of a marriage which would pay up old scores, and put things on a better basis for the future. If he marries a girlwithout money he will have to face constant anxiety and trouble. "

Elma turned to her mother, her delicate brow puckered in anxiety. 

"I shall have _some_ money, shan't I, mother? You told me that fatherleft some provision for me on my marriage!"

"You are to have three thousand pounds paid down if you marry with myconsent. My income is largely derived from an annuity, Mrs Greville, but there will be about another five thousand to come to Elma afterdeath. "

Madame bowed her head in gracious patronage. 

"Very nice, I'm sure! A very nice little sum for pin money, but quiteuseless for our purposes. Don't hate me, Elma--I am the mostunmercenary of women--Geoffrey will tell you that I am always gettinginto debt!--but when a man is the owner of a property--which hasdescended to him from generations of ancestors, his first duty is to it. _Noblesse oblige_! It is not right to allow it to fall into disrepairfor a matter of sentiment!"

Elma sat with downcast looks considering the point, while Geoffreydevoured her face with hungry eyes. Mrs Ramsden's face had flushed toa painful red, and she passed her handkerchief nervously round her lips. She could bear to torture her child herself, but not to sit by and hearanother woman follow in her own footsteps. 

The silence lasted for a long minute before Elma replied by asking aquestion on her own behalf. 

"Can it be right for a man to marry one woman for money, when he hasgiven his heart to another?"

Mrs Greville tossed her head with another impatient little laugh. 

"His heart! Ah, my dear, a man's heart is an adaptable commodity! He`gives it, ' as you say, many times over in the course of his life. Heis far more likely to love a wife whose money brings him ease andcomfort, than one for whose pretty face he has sacrificed his peace!"

Elma turned to her lover and looked deep into his eyes. With a strongeffort he had resisted breaking into the conversation before now, buthis face was more eloquent than words. She smiled at him, a tenderlittle smile of encouragement. 

"I am very economical. I would help Geoffrey to save. I have not beenaccustomed to luxuries, so it would cost me nothing to do without them, and he says he doesn't care. Don't think I am selfish, Mrs Greville, please! I am thinking of Geoffrey first, but I believe he would behappier living quietly with me, and looking after the estate himself, instead of paying an agent to do it, than if he sold himself for moneyand ease. We love each other very much. We need nothing more than justto be together. "

Geoffrey turned aside and stared out of the window. The two mothersexchanged helpless glances. 

"Elma!" said Mrs Ramsden, sharply, "have you no pride? It is hardenough for me to sit by and listen. Are you not ashamed to forceyourself upon a family where you are not wanted? When I have lookedforward to your marriage, I have always imagined that you would bewelcomed with open arms. For your own position you are well dowered. Ihave been proud of you all your life--too proud, perhaps--it would be abitter blow to me to see you married on sufferance. If you have noother feeling in the matter, does not your pride come to your aid?"

"Mother, I'm going to marry Geoffrey, not his family! He can take careof his wife!"

"The child is right!" said Madame, quickly. "Geoffrey's wife, whoevershe may be, will be treated with every respect. It is not the judgmentof others which she need dread, but the judgment of her own heart. Listen to me, child! You are a sweet thing, and I love you for yourdevotion to my boy. As I told you before, I should be in love with youin his place, but I'm an old woman, and I know the world! Geoffrey isnot used to work and economy; for a little time, while the first glamourlasted, he might be contented enough, but he would weary in the end. Hewould surely weary, and then--how would you feel? When you saw himrestless and discontented; longing to leave you and fly back to his oldlife, would you feel no remorse? Love's young dream does not last forever, my pretty child. "

"No, " said Elma, quietly; "dreams don't last, but sometimes theawakening is better! You have known Geoffrey all his life, MrsGreville, and it seems presumptuous to pretend that I know him evenbetter, but I can--_feel_! You believe he would tire of me, and long toget back to his old luxurious life. You think he would love me verymuch for a little time and then be indifferent and careless, and that Ishould feel it was my own fault; but you are wrong. Indeed, indeed, youare wrong! He is your son--has he ever failed you? You say yourselfthat he has been good and true. You would trust him for your ownfuture. Do you think he would be less loyal to his own wife? I am notat all afraid. I am like you--I trust Geoffrey!"

As she finished speaking she turned towards her lover and held out herhand towards him, and in two strides Geoffrey was by her side; was onhis knees beside her, holding that little hand pressed between both hisown, turning to look at his mother with triumphant eyes; with eyesashine with something deeper than triumph. 

Geoffrey on his knees! Tears in Geoffrey's eyes! Madame stared inamaze, then broke into a sudden excited laugh. 

"Bravo, Elma! Bravo, Geoffrey! Congratulations, my dears. Thankheaven you have a mother who knows when she is well beaten!"

She rose from her seat and crossed the room to where the girl sat. "Bravo, little Elma! I like to see a good fighting spirit. You willmake Geoffrey a charming wife, and I shall be proud of my daughter. "She took Elma's disengaged hand and pressed it between her own, and thegirl smiled a happy response, but Geoffrey was oblivious of herpresence, his eyes fixed upon his love's face, with the rapt, adoringgaze with which a knight of old may have gazed upon the vision of thegrail. His mother looked at him, and her lips quivered. Artificial andfrivolous though she was, her only son was dear to her heart. Since thehour of his birth he had been to her as a pivot round which the worldrevolved. Her son--the last of the Grevilles who had owned the Manorsince the days of the Tudors. To be alienated from him would be thebitterest grief which life could bring. 

Her grip tightened on the girl's hand. 

"Elma!" she cried urgently. "I am Geoffrey's mother. He is yours now, and will be swayed by you, but he has been mine for thirty-three years. If I have taken part against you, it has been because I believed it wasbest for him. I have lost, and you have won. You will be his wife, themistress of the Manor. I don't grudge you your success, but don't--don't bear me a grudge! Don't turn my boy against me!"

"Mrs Greville!" gasped Elma, breathlessly. "Mrs Greville!" Shepulled her hand from Geoffrey's grasp, and rose swiftly to her feet. "Oh, please don't think that I could be so mean! I want him to love youmore, not less. I want to be a _real_ daughter! You must not thinkthat I am going to drive you from your place. You must stay on at theManor, and let me learn from you. There is so much that I shall have tolearn. I shall be quite satisfied to be allowed to help!"

"Silly child!" said Madame, smiling. She lifted her delicate, ringedhand and stroked the girl's cheeks with kindly patronage. "You don'tknow what you are talking about, my dear, but I _do_--fortunately for usall! Geoffrey's wife must have no divided rule. You need not troubleyour pretty head about me. Norton palls at times even to a Greville, and I shall enjoy my liberty. I'll go out and spend a cold weather withCarol; I'll have a cosy little flat in town, and do the theatres. I'llenjoy myself gadding about, and come down upon you now and then when Iwant a rest, but I'll never _live_ with you, my dear; be sure of that!"

"It's rather early to make plans, mater. Things will arrangethemselves. Elma and I will always try to make you happy, " saidGeoffrey, bluntly. 

He, too, had risen, and stood by his mother's side; flushed, triumphant, a little shamefaced at the remembrance of his late emotion; buttransparently and most radiantly happy. "I'll do all in my power to bea good son to you, and to Mrs Ramsden also if she will allow me!"

He was the first of the three to remember the existence of the littlewoman in the background; the little woman who was sobbing into herhandkerchief, shedding bitter tears because, forsooth, her daughter hadsecured the biggest match in the country-side, and was about to become aGreville of Norton Manor!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

The parental summons arrived ten days after the date of Elma's formalengagement, and at the expiration of the seventh week of Cornelia'ssojourn in England. There it was for all the world to see;--short, authoritative, and to the point. Circumstances had altered Poppar'splan. His visit to Europe must be postponed, he desired his daughter toreturn home by the first possible boat. Useless to exclaim, to argue, to condemn. The command had gone forth; implicit obedience must ensue. 

"Will you feel badly when I'm gone, Aunt Soph?" Cornelia asked afterthe news had been broken. She looked wistfully into the spinster'sface, and felt herself answered as she noted the involuntary momentaryhesitation which preceded the reply. 

"It will naturally be a disappointment to me to miss seeing my brother, but I hope the pleasure is only deferred. I am glad to have had anopportunity of making your acquaintance, my dear, though the time is socurtailed. "

"Yes, I guess we've fixed-up an acquaintance right enough!" saidCornelia, quietly. Seven weeks, or seven years--what did it matter?She and this woman could never become friends. Time counts for nothingin the intercourse of souls. An hour may reveal a kindred spirit; noyears can bridge some gaps. Elma would remain a life-long friend, Guesta life-long memory, but her kinswoman, the nearest on earth with the oneexception of her father, must for ever be a stranger. 

Cornelia was sad at heart that day, and Elma was sad, too; opening wide, startled eyes, and clasping her friend in jealous arms. 

"Cornelia, it isn't true! It _can't_ be true! I can't spare you, dear. Is it really impossible to stay on a little longer? Geoffrey and Icounted on you for our wedding. It is fixed for October, and I wantedyou for a bridesmaid. I wanted you to pay me a visit in my own house!You have been such a friend to us both, that we _need_ you, Cornelia! Ishall miss you badly!"

"Shucks!" returned Cornelia, lightly. "You'll forget there is such acreature in existence. _I_ should, in your place, and I don't mind ifyou do, for I know you'll remember again another day. This isGeoffrey's hour, and I won't interfere. If I live, I'll pay you thatvisit right enough, and maybe you'll come over to see me. I'd give youa roaring time. Tell Geoffrey he is bound to bring you over to seeAmerica. I'll think about you on your marriage-day, but I don't know asI'm sorry to do the thinking at a distance. Wedding-days aren't theliveliest occasions in the world for the looker-on. I guess I'd feelpretty `_left_, ' when you drove off from the gates, and I found myselfall by my lonesome with the two old girls. . .. I've wired to Liverpoolabout berths, and may have to start off at a day's notice, so we've gotto make the most of the time. Aunt Soph don't care! She's polite, ofcourse, but right at the back of her mind I can see she's planning toclean out my room, and thinking how good it will be to have the matslaid aside, and the shroudings over the tables! If it wasn't for you, Moss Rose, I should feel I'd done a fool-trick coming over at all! Whenall's said and done it amounts to nothing but disappointment and heart-break. "

"You mean, " began Elma, "you mean--" and then suddenly paused. Whyshould Cornelia's heart break? Disappointment and disillusion would benatural enough in one who had experienced both coldness and deceptionwithin the last few weeks, but heart-break was too strong a term. ToElma, with her mind full to overflowing of that beloved Geoffrey, itseemed as if nothing but love could count so seriously in life. Herthoughts flew to Guest, recalling all she had heard of his knight-errantry in London; of the long hours which the two had spent alonetogether; and later on, of the daily meetings in the Park, planned forher own benefit, but none the less opportunities for fuller knowledge. She fixed her blue eyes on Cornelia's face, and asked a suddenquestion--

"Does Captain Guest know that you are going?"

"How should he?" returned Cornelia, lightly. Eyes and lips wereunflinching, but all the will in the world could not keep the blood fromher cheeks. "He's visiting somewhere at the other end of the country, with old friends who belong to his own world, and feel the same wayabout the same things. Let him stay and be happy! I don't want him tocome worrying down here for the fun of saying good-bye. Guess he's hadtrouble enough about my affairs. Mind now, Elma, you are not to tellhim! This is my affair, and I won't have you interfere. "

Elma meekly disavowed any intention of communicating with Captain Guest, but like many other meek people she harboured a quiet reservation whichannulled the promise. She would not write, but--Geoffrey could!Geoffrey _should_! That flame in Cornelia's cheek satisfied her thatthe girl's interest was deeper than she would admit, and if Guestreturned the feeling, what joy, what rapture to have Cornelia settled inEngland; to look forward to a life of constant intercourse! Corneliahad helped her; according to her lights Elma was determined to helpCornelia also. 

With disconcerting swiftness a return telegram arrived from Liverpoolstating that owing to illness a passenger had been suddenly obliged toresign a state-room on the boat sailing on the following Saturday, andthat the accommodation would be reserved pending Miss Briskett'sconfirmation. An immediate reply was requested. 

Cornelia gasped and hesitated. Four days! _Only_ four days, and thenfarewell to England and English friends. She had not expected anythingso speedy as this. During these summer months berths were engaged solong ahead that it was generally a most difficult thing to arrange for aspeedy passage. She had been told of this over and over again; hadknown of her friends' difficulties in such matters; in the background ofher mind had counted on a similar delay in her own case. In a week or afortnight much might happen, but in four days! She stood battling withtemptation, while Mary watched her with anxious eyes. No one butherself knew the purport of the message; no one need know if the answerwere a refusal. Two or three scribbled words would give her a reprieve. . .. Poor Cornelia! She realised afresh how easy it was to be brave inanticipation, how bitterly hard in actual fact. She was silent so longthat Mary summoned up courage to ask a question--

"Is it bad news, miss?"

Cornelia stared at her blankly for a moment, and valiantly forced asmile. 

"I guess there's two sides to it, as there are to most things in thisworld. My Poppar'll think it splendid, but you'll hate it badly enough. I'm going pretty quick, Mury! You won't have me but four days more!"

The truth was out. She had burned her boats, and made retreatimpossible. While Mary wept and lamented, Cornelia wrote theconfirmatory wire, and sent it out to the waiting messenger. Then Maryreturned to continue her lamentations. 

"I wish I could marry him, and be done with it! I can't seem to facestaying on here with no one but her in the house, nagging at us all theday. I'll have to make another move!" she proclaimed dismally. InMary's converse the singular pronoun, when masculine, always applied toher friend; when feminine, to her mistress. Cornelia had grasped thisfact, and had therefore no difficulty in understanding her meaning. Shesat down in a chair by the window, and stared at the maid with seriouseyes. 

"Do you love him, Mury? Enough to marry him, and live beside him everyone day to the end of your life? You think you would not get--_tired_?"

Mary hesitated, unwilling to commit herself. "I wouldn't like to go sofar as that, " she announced judicially. "He aggravates me at timessomething cruel, but I'd sooner be aggravated by him nor anyone else. They talk a lot of rubbish about love, Miss Cornelia, but that's aboutthe size of it when all's said and done. Some people suit you andothers don't, and all the lovey-doveying in the world won't make 'em--"

"Why, Mury, you are a philosopher! It's the dead truth, Mury, but Iguess you needn't rub it in. --If you've made up your mind, why need youwait?"

"Furniture, miss! I've told him I won't marry to go into rooms, not ifit's ever so. I'll wait till I get a 'ome of me own. He'd put by agoodish bit, and so had I, but things have been agen us. He was out ofwork four months last winter, and mother's legs are a awful drain--liniments, and bandages, and what-not. You can't see your own mothersuffer, and not pay out. We've got to wait till we save up again. "

"How much money does it take to furnish a cottage over here, Mury?"

"That depends on how it's done. You can do it 'an'some for fortypounds. I lived with a girl who did hers for twenty, but I wouldn'tlike to be as close as that. I reckon about thirty. "

"Thirty pounds! One hundred and fifty dollars!" Cornelia gasped inastonishment at the smallness of the sum. "You can't mean that thatincludes everything--chairs and tables, and carpets, and dishes, andbeds, and bureaus, and brooms, and tins, and curtains, and fire-irons--and all the fixing to put 'em up! It isn't possible you can get themall for a hundred and fifty dollars!"

"You can, miss. There's a shop in the Fore Street where they do youeverything complete for three rooms for thirty pounds, with a velvetsuite for the parlour. Lady's chair, gent's chair, sofa, and fouruprights, with chiffonnier, and overmantel, and all. You couldn't wishfor anything better. The girl I lived with had only a few odd bits--I'dbe ashamed to have such a poor sort of parlour. --In the kitchen theygive you a dresser, and a flap-table, and linoleum on the floor. Jimand me went to the shop one day to have a look round. . .. That was whenhe had a bit put by!" Mary sighed, and flicked away a tear. "And nowyou're going next! I'm getting a bit sick of bad luck, I am!"

Cornelia was bending forward in her seat, her chin supported in thepalms of her hands. Her expression was very grave and wistful, but inher eyes shone the light of awakened interest. 

"Mury!--you've been real good and attentive to me. I guess I've givenyou quite a heap of trouble. I want to make you a present before I go. Would you like it if I fixed-up that house so's you could get marriedright away? If you say so, you can go to that store and make your ownbargains, and I'll leave thirty pounds with Miss Ramsden to pay thebills. I'd like to feel I'd helped you to a home of your own, Mury!"

Mary clutched the back of a chair near to which she was standing; hereyes protruded, her chin dropped, speech failed her in the excess ofemotion. She could only stare, and gasp, and stare again. 

"Poor Mury!" said Cornelia, softly. "Are you so pleased? I want youshould be pleased. If I ken make someone happy to-day--right-down, tearing happy, it's going to help me more'n you know. . .. Won't youenjoy going shopping with your friend, Mury, bossing round in thatstore, choosing the things you want, and putting on airs as if you ownedthe bank? Mind you put on airs, Mury! Make 'em hop round, and getthings to your taste. They'll think the more of you, and it's not everyday one furnishes a house. . .. I'll send you my picture to stand on themantelpiece in that parlour, and when you dust it in the mornings, youcan send me a kind thought 'way over all those miles of ocean, and I'llthink of you sitting in the lady's chair. . .. For the land's sake, girl, don't have a fit! You don't need to have a thing unless you sayso!"

"Oh, Miss Cornelia!" sobbed Mary, brokenly. "You're too--I'm so--you'rean _angel_, Miss Cornelia, that's what you are! . .. Jim will go off hishead when he hears this. --It's a sort of thing you can't seem tobelieve. --I loved to wait on you, miss; if you'd never given me a thingI'd have loved it all the same--you talked so kind, and took such aninterest, and was always so lively and laughing. It wasn't for what Icould get--but the house! . .. To have a house thrown at you, as you maysay, at a moment's notice--it--takes away my breath! I can't seem totake it in. "

"But you are happy, Mury? You feel happy to think of it?"

"I should think I do just. Clean dazed with happiness!"

"Poor Mury!" said Cornelia, again. She looked across the room at theflushed, ecstatic face of the prospective bride, and smiled with tendersympathy. 

"I'm real glad you're pleased. To-night, just as soon as dinner's over, you must go out and tell your friend. I'll fix it up with Aunt Soph. You'll have a fine time, won't you? He won't believe it's true, butyou'll _make_ him believe, and be as happy as grigs walking round andplanning out that parlour. Come into my room when you get back and tellme what he says. I shan't be asleep!"

There seemed no time for sleep during the next few days. The morningswere devoted to packing, and to long confidential interviews with Elma;the afternoons to a succession of tea-parties, to which every old ladyin Norton was bidden in turns, to say the same things, and breathe thesame pious good wishes; the evenings to decorous cribbage matches withher aunt; the nights--the nights were Cornelia's own secret, but theyleft a wan, heavy-eyed damsel to yawn at the breakfast-table eachmorning. 

When the last hour arrived, the very last, Cornelia's friends assembledat the station to bid her good-bye; Miss Briskett, tall and angular inher new grey costume; Mrs Ramsden with the black feather fiercely erectin the front of her bonnet; lovely, blooming Elma attended by her swain, and in the background the faithful Mary, holding on to the dressing-bag, and sniffing dolorously. Cornelia had refused to be escorted farther onthe journey, and now that the hour had arrived, her one longing was tosay her farewells and be left to herself. 

She was eager to be off, yet, when the train steamed slowly out of thestation, she was gripped by a strange, swift spasm of anguish. Not onher friends' behalf. Aunt Soph had made no pretence of anything beyondpolite regret. Elma and Mary shared a personal happiness so deep, that, for the time at least, the departure of a friend held no lasting sting. Cornelia could wave adieu to each, rejoicing in their joy, in theremembrance that she had had some small share in bringing it about; yetthe torturing pain continued, the desolating ache of disappointment. 

What was it for which she had waited? What hope had lived persistent atthe back of her mind, while she had pretended that she had no hope? Sheknew now that, hour by hour, she had lived in the expectation of Guest'sreturn; had felt an unreassuring conviction that he must come before sheleft! That she had done her utmost to prevent his coming had nothing todo with the case. Surely, when she had so sternly followed the dictatesof reason, there was all the more need for some good fairy to weave amiracle which should upset her plans. Something must happen!Something! At sweet-and-twenty it is so difficult to believe in theirrevocable!

The journey to London was alive with memories. In this corner she hadsat watching Guest's face, listening to his voice as he told the storyof his life. At this landscape they had looked together, admiring, andcomparing tastes and impressions. At Paddington, Mrs Moffatt had stoodin waiting upon the platform. Cornelia was thankful to be safe insidethe boat-mail, away from the pressing memories. Here the atmosphere wasof home. Eye and ear caught on every side the familiar accent, thefamiliar phraseology; the familiar tilt of the hat, and squaring ofshoulder. The passenger list included more than one well-known name, and once afloat she was sure of companionship. She settled down in hercorner, with a sigh of relief, as of one who has reached a haven afterstruggling in deep waters. This was a foretaste of home! These peoplewere her own kindred; their ways were her ways, their thoughts herthoughts. For the first time since her arrival on English soil she feltthe rest of being in perfect accord with her surroundings. WithCornelia America was a passion; life away from her native land was onlyhalf a life. 

Aboard the great steamer the passengers were rushing to and fro, searching for their state-rooms, and, when found, depositing theirimpedimenta on the tops of the narrow white bunks. 

Cornelia walked to the quietest corner of the deck, dropped her bag on aseat, and leant idly over the rail. She was in no hurry to go below, and held instinctively aloof from the groups of fellow-passengers andtheir friends. She was alone, and her heart was sad. 

Someone walking quickly along the deck caught sight of the solitaryfigure in the trim, dark-blue dress, and recognised its outline before aturn of the head revealed the glorious, flaming hair. Someone with agrim face, pale beneath his tan, with haggard lines about the eyes andmouth; a man whose looks betrayed the fact that he had been awake allnight, face to face with calamity. He walked straight to the girl'sside, and laid his hand upon her arm. 

"Cornelia!"

Cornelia turned swiftly, and a light leapt into her eyes; a light ofjoy, so pure and involuntary that, at sight of it, the man's face lostsomething of its grim tension. He turned his back so as to screen thegirl from the passers-by, and his hand tightened on her arm. 

"Cornelia, are you running away from me?"

She did not answer, but her silence gave assent--her silence, and aquiet bend of the head. 

"Why?"

"I was--afraid!" breathed Cornelia, low. 

Beneath the close-fitting cap Guest could see her lips tremble. Thelittle face looked white and tense. She twisted her fingers nervously. 

"Afraid of me, and my love? Afraid that I should come back to troubleyou? Afraid of my selfishness, Cornelia?"

The curling lips breathed a faint dissent. 

"Of what, then? We have only a few minutes left. You must tell me thetruth now!"

She raised her eyes to his; brave, pitiful eyes, mutely imploring formercy. 

"Of myself! Of my own weakness! Afraid lest I might give way, and ruintwo lives!"

"You knew that I loved you; that I had gone away to prove my love, tosee if it would stand the test of absence? It was a serious matter forus both, and I would not let myself act on the spur of an impulse. If Ihad, Cornelia, you know that I should have spoken long ago!--that nighton the river. You knew it at the time. I saw it in your eyes. --I madeyou promise to let me know if you left Norton during my absence. It wasnot fair to run away. "

"I never promised! I never did! You asked me, but I didn't promise. Ifelt at the time that I must leave. "

The words came in quick, gasping breaths, as a child might speak whotried to justify himself to his taskmaster. Guest's face softened atthe sound, and his grasp of the girl's arm turned into a caress. 

"Darling, don't you see what that means? You love me, or you would notbe afraid. Geoffrey wrote to me giving me warning, but the letter onlyreached me late yesterday night. I have been travelling ever since. Ijust managed to be here in time. If I had missed the boat I should havecome after you. Do you think a few thousand miles are going to keep usapart, Cornelia?"

She shook her head sadly. "No!--no distance in space, just the distancebetween our two selves; the distance that can't be bridged! We belongto different worlds, you and I; we could never be happy together. Youlove forms and ceremonies, and conventions; all the things that worry memost, and make me feel ugly. It's the height of your ambition to settledown in your old home, and to keep things rolling along in the same oldruts that they've run in for centuries. I want change and excitement, and the newest there is. Your quiet English life would get on mynerves. Poppar and I have had lots of ups and downs, and I've neverlost grit. I ken bear a good big blow, but to stodge along every daythe same dull round would drive me crazed! We live quickly over withus, and you're so slow. I don't say that the advantage is all on ourside. I used to laugh at English girls, but I don't any longer, sinceI've known Elma Ramsden. If I were a man, Elma's the sort I'd want formy wife. You'll find another like her some day, and be thankful you arefree. You love me now, but your love would not stand the strain ofpulling separate ways all our lives--"

Guest gazed at her with gloomy eyes. 

"You don't love me, or you would not think of anything else. Whatevermay be the differences between us, you are the one woman I have everwanted for my wife. I can't bear to let you go. . .. Don't trifle withme for the few minutes that are left. Tell me honestly how we stand. . .. Do you love me, Cornelia?"

"I--_could_!" answered Cornelia, slowly. Her cheeks flushed beneath hisgaze, and the white lids drooped over the honest eyes. "It was justfinding out how easy it would be, that sent me running home. The peopleat Norton think it was Poppar's doing, but I'll tell you straight that Iasked him to send for me. . .. Life's a big chance. We've got to makethe best we know out of it, for ourselves and other people. I don'tmean to spoil things for us both. . .. You didn't _want_ to love me!Right at the back of your mind you've felt all the time that I was notyour mate. You went away to think it out; perhaps, if the truth'sknown, you were still undecided when the news of my sailing brought youup with a run. When I am gone and you have had time to cool down, you'll be glad!"

Guest repeated the word with bitter emphasis. 

"_Glad_! I shall be glad, shall I? At the present moment, in any case, I am the most miserable man on earth. Have you no pity, Cornelia? Willnothing move you? Think how happy we have been together! If we lovedeach other, surely we could outlive the differences? Can you bear to goaway like this and leave me for ever? Is it nothing to you how Isuffer? Don't you _care_, Cornelia?"

"Yes, I care, " she answered simply. "It _hurts_, but it's going to hurta lot more if I stay behind. If we lived together it would be liketrying to piece together the bits of two different puzzles. We don'tfit!"

The simple words expressed the truth with paralysing force. Even atthat bitter moment Guest recognised their truth, and was dumb before it. He turned aside, his strong jaw working with emotion, powerless tofight any longer against the rock of Cornelia's will. 

Behind him lay the grey city wrapped in its veil of smoke, the tallspire of the old church rising in picturesque isolation above the lineof the surrounding buildings. It seemed at that moment to stand as asymbol of the life of the Mother Country, a life fenced in byconvention, by forms and ceremonies sanctified to every Englishman bycenturies of association; forms at which he may at times smile or scoff, but which he would no sooner demolish than he would tear away theclustering ivy which clothes his walls. Before him lay the broad river, its mouth widening to the sea: to that free, untrammelled waste ofwaters, which were a fit symbol of that land of the West, whose daughtercould place her liberty even before her love!

There came a sudden stir and movement. A second time the bell clangedits warning, and the visitors began to stream towards the gangway. Guest heard the sound of a strangled sob, and felt his own heart beatwith suffocating quickness. 

"I--I can't face it, " he cried desperately, "I won't take this as ananswer. If I had time I could _make_ you listen to me. I could makeyou agree. I shall come after you to New York. "

She turned aside, but not so quickly that he did not catch the suddenlight in her eyes, the same involuntary gleam of joy which had greetedhis coming a few minutes before. The sight of that tell-tale signalmade his heart leap, but Cornelia shook her head, and her voice broke ina low-breathed "Ho! It would be a mistake. Wait here. Wait quietly!At first it will hurt, but after a while you'll be glad. You'll findthat other things come first. You think now that you will come afterme, but I know you better! You will never come. You'll not want me anymore. "

Guest laughed a strained little laugh of excitement and exultation. Cornelia might preach prudence, and hold fast to her own ideas, but atleast she had not forbidden his coming; had not said in so many words, "I will not see you!" For the moment, at least, he had triumphed; hewas confident that the future also would be his own. 

"We will discuss that question on our next meeting, " he criedbreathlessly. "I will wait as long as you like; undergo any test youlike to decree, but I will come! _Au revoir_, Cornelia!"

"Good-bye!" breathed Cornelia, low. She raised her eyes to his, but nowthere was no light in the golden depths, but only a deep andimmeasurable sadness. 

Guest wrung her hand, and turned aside. There was no time left toreason further. The future alone could prove the depth and stability ofhis love. He made his way to the gangway, his heart wrung with thesense of loss, of wounded love and pride. By his side men and womensobbed and cried, while others laughed and exchanged merry banter withtheir friends on board. To some this meant a parting for life; toothers a pleasure excursion across the ocean ferry. Among them all, wasthere one whose loss was as his own?

A wild impulse seized him to push his way back and remain on the boatfor the first stage of the journey, but the steady stream bore himonward, and, as in a dream, he found himself standing on the stage, andsaw the gangway descend. He stood in the crowd and heard a woman sob byhis side. She was waving her handkerchief to a sad-faced man, who stoodon the spot which Cornelia had vacated but a minute before. Now she haddisappeared. Guest's eyes searched for her hungrily, but in vain. Itwas only as the vessel slowly moved from the stage that she came intosight; a small dark figure standing alone on the upper deck, with thesunlight shining on ruddy locks, and on a white face turned outwardstowards the sea.