THE MAKING OF A SOUL

by

KATHLYN RHODES

Author of "_The Desert Dreamers_, " "_The Will of Allah_, " "_The Lure ofthe Desert_, " "_Flower of Grass_, " _etc_. 

London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row

CHAPTER I

Barry Raymond drew the latchkey out of the door and entered his smallflat in Kensington just as the clock in the tiny hall chimed the hour often. 

It was a wet night; and he drew off his Burberry and hung it up with asense of pleasure in being again in his cosy little eyrie at the top ofthe chilly stone steps. 

Humming a tune, he crossed the diminutive hall and went into thesitting-room, where the cheerful crackle of a small wood fire gave anair of comfort to the hearth. 

On the table, where his admirable man-servant had placed it, was a traybearing glasses, a siphon and a bottle of whisky; and beside the traywere the few letters which had come by the last post; while in aconspicuous place lay a telegram in its tawny envelope; and this, naturally enough, was the first thing Barry touched. 

Taking it up, he tore it open decisively; and as the envelope fell tothe ground he unfolded the pink paper and read the message scrawledthereon. 

 "Just arrived Southampton will be with you about ten o'clock. OWEN. "

The paper fluttered to the floor and Barry consulted his watch hastily. 

"Ten o'clock! Why, it's that now. So Owen's home. By Jove, what anunlucky day he's chosen!"

He stood still for a moment, rapt, it would seem, in contemplation of anunpleasant vision. Then with a shrug of his shoulders he moved to thefireplace and turned on more light. 

"Well, it'll have to be done sooner or later; but"--for a second arueful smile lit up his despondent young face--"I wish I hadn't got todo it . .. And at ten o'clock at night into the bargain!"

He looked round him as though considering some serious matter. 

"Food--and drink. Here's drink, anyhow. What about food?"

Seizing a hand-lamp from the bureau at his elbow, he quitted the roomand made for the kitchen, which his man had left, as usual, in theperfection of neatness on his departure two hours ago. 

Hastening to the cupboard which did duty, in the flat, for a pantry, Barry flung open the door and surveyed the shelves with anxious eyes. 

Ah! There was plenty of food, of a sort, and suddenly Barry remembered, with gratitude, the fact that he had intended to dine at home, and hadbeen prevented doing so at the eleventh hour owing to an unexpectedinvitation which he had then regarded as an unmitigated bore, but nowlooked upon as a direct interposition of Providence. 

A cold roast chicken, an apple tart and cream, cheese andbiscuits--surely the traveller could make a meal off these provisions, and Barry carried them gaily into the sitting-room and laid the tablewith much good-will and no little celerity. 

Knives, forks, glasses--for he intended to share the meal--salt, pepper, bread--in a dozen light-hearted journeys he managed to bring everythinghe considered necessary; and he was just standing back to admire his ownhandiwork when the electric bell pealed loudly through the silent flat. 

"Here he is, by Jove!" Barry all but dropped the vase of chrysanthemumshe was carrying to the table, and setting it down hastily he went to thedoor, in a flutter of anticipation, of hospitality, and, if the truth betold, of nervousness. 

Opening the door:

"Is that you, Owen?" he asked--a superfluous question, for he knew hisvisitor well enough. "Come in, old chap--you must be soaked--it's afrightful night!"

"Soaked--I should just say I am!" Owen Rose accepted the invitation andstepped inside, shaking himself like a dog as he did so. "Lord, Barry, what a climate! I declare I'd sooner live in Timbuctoo!"

"Oh, the climate's all right--only a bit moist, " returned Barryphilosophically. "But come on in--take off your coat and come to thefire. Any luggage?"

"No, I've sent it on to my place. " He drew himself out of his big coatas he spoke. "I thought I'd come up and see you for half an hour firstof all. Jolly glad you're at home. You got my wire?"

"Yes, a few minutes ago. Come and have something to eat. " They were inthe sitting-room by now. "There's not much, but I hadn't time to killthe fatted calf. "

"Looks like it. " Owen's eyes roamed over the cheerful littlesupper-table. "Barry, you're a fraud. Chicken, apple-pie--what more canman desire? But I confess I _am_ hungry, though I didn't come for ameal. "

"Well, sit down and let's begin, " said Barry practically. "I dined at myaunt's to-night, and as usual I couldn't get much to eat! She asked meso many questions about . .. " he coloured and hurried on ". .. Abouteverything, that by the time I'd finished answering them dinner wasover!"

"I see. " Owen accepted the plate Barry handed him. "Well, you're lookingvery fit, Barry. How's things?"

"Oh, fair. " Barry paused in the act of pouring out a whisky-and-soda. "That's to say, I'm still with old Joliffe, and got a rise of screw lastquarter. "

"Did you! Well, wait till we get the review going, and see if I don'ttempt you away from that dictatorial old boss of yours!"

"Oh, I'll come to you all right, " said Barry gaily. "But in the meantimeI'd better hang on in the House of Rimmon, hadn't I? You see . .. " Hebroke off, the colour mounting to his face. 

"Of course. You're thinking of Olive. Quite right, too. How is she, Barry? Well?"

"A 1. " Barry fell to on his supper with renewed zest. "Longing to seeyou, old chap. By the way"--he slid rather dexterously away from thesubject--"you promised her a skin or something, didn't you? Have anyluck?"

"Luck! Rather! I bagged one tiger who was really magnificent--he'll makea grand hearthrug for you and Olive. He was a splendid brute and I waslucky to get him. Of course, I've had luck all the way through. By gad, Barry, there's nothing like big-game shooting to make one fit! You knowwhat I was like when I set out--and look at me now!"

Thus invited, Barry looked; and he was bound to admit that his friendwas right. 

Eighteen months previous to this wet night of January, Owen Rose hadbeen so severely injured in a motor-accident that his life had beendespaired of; and although he had eventually recovered, he had been leftso unlike himself that a return to the normal round was impossible. 

There was only one prescription, his doctors agreed, and that was theagreeable, if expensive, one of travel. Only by gaining complete changeof scene, complete change, also, of life and routine, could he hope torecapture his old splendid vitality and abundant health; and sinceluckily Owen was by no means a poor man, the prescription was not sohard to carry out as might have been the case with another patient. 

True, this break in his life interfered with several cherished projects. In the first--and most important--place, his marriage must be delayed;and although Miss Vivian Rees was only twenty, and might be consideredfully young to be a bride, the delay, to the ardent lover, wasvexatious, at the least. 

Then the review, to which he had alluded in his conversation with Barry, had perforce to be shelved; and although there was plenty of time forthe production of such a literary newcomer, he had felt, at the moment, as though called upon to abandon altogether a beloved ideal. 

But the fiat had gone forth; and indeed he had agreed entirely with themedical verdict which pronounced him unfit to shoulder fresh tasks untilhis old strength should be regained. Therefore, unwillingly, but nonethe less unflinchingly, he had made preparations to leave England for ayear's leisurely travel in the East, starting, as it were, from Bombayand journeying onwards wherever the fancy took him. 

It happened that during his travels he fell in with a couple of oldschoolfellows who were on the verge of a sporting expedition; and Owen, who by that time was tired of his loafing method of travel, jumped withalacrity at an invitation to join the party. 

They had glorious sport; and in the excitement and vigour of the chaseOwen regained all his old bodily strength and added thereto a quitefresh store of health and spirits. When at length he turned his facehomewards he knew himself to be in such condition as he had never beforeexperienced; and as he sat opposite his host to-night, eating anddrinking gaily in this quiet room, he presented to Barry a picture ofsuch perfect health as is rarely met with in the streets of London. 

"Yes. " Barry brought his leisurely survey to a close. "You do lookuncommonly fit, I suppose you've had a gorgeous time. "

Thus invited, Owen launched forth into an account of some of his mostthrilling adventures, and the time flew as he recounted the tale of theglorious nights and days he had lived through, or made his hearer laughwith his stories of the various attendants and their humours. 

The clock had chimed the hour of midnight before the friends left thetable; and then, sitting by the rosy fire, with pipes alight, each onefelt that the moment had come in which a deeper subject might well beintroduced. 

Yet Barry, at least, would cheerfully have ignored that subject; for heforesaw, with friendship's intuition, that the thing he had to say wouldeffectually mar and break the midnight peace; and as the moment drewnear in which he must strike a fatal blow at his friend's serenity hefell into an embarrassed silence very unlike his recent cordiality. 

At last it came--the question he had dreaded. 

"I say, Barry, have you seen much of Vivian lately?" Although thesubject affected the speaker so vitally, he was so calmly, confidentlysure of the reply that his tone was quiet and unagitated. Even thoughBarry paused for a quite perceptible fraction of time before he replied, the other man was too certain of the answer to notice the pause. 

"I . .. I have seen her--yes. " He spoke without removing his pipe frombetween his teeth, which might account for the curious thickness of histone. 

"And how is she? All right, I suppose? You see"--Owen laughed ratherdiffidently--"my return was to be a surprise to her. I wasn't coming foranother couple of months, you know, and then all at once I couldn't bearit any longer. I simply _had_ to come. "

"But--haven't you corresponded all this time?"

"Well, not regularly. You know Vivian hates writing letters as much as Ido; and I couldn't give her any settled addresses while we were movingabout, so we agreed that we would not expect much from each other inthat way!"

"I see. But--you _have_ heard from her?"

"Oh, yes, now and then. Of course she had my banker's address and couldcable to me from time to time. I got one cable from her in December--onmy birthday, it was--and she said she was writing, but I never got theletter. "

"In December. I see. " And so he did--saw a vision of half-unwillingtreachery, of hesitating loyalty, of dying faith, which turned his heartsick within him. 

"I wrote to her for Christmas, of course, and sent her a card now andthen. " He seemed to be excusing his own quite allowable slackness in thematter. "You see, I really had no time for letter-writing, and I knewshe would understand and forgive me. "

"You . .. Did you tell her you were coming home to-day?"

"Yes. I wired to her a week ago. .. . I half expected she'd come down tomeet me. " He laughed shamefacedly. "But you know what her people are. Iexpect they'd think it frightfully unnecessary to do that. Of course, I'm going there first thing in the morning. "

"You . .. You haven't been there yet, then?" Barry hated himself for hisfatuity as he put the question. 

"No. Fact is, I was a perfect savage when I landed . .. A beard half ayard long!" He laughed jovially. "Had to get trimmed up a bit . .. But inany case she would probably have been out somewhere or other to-night. "

"Yes. I see. "

"But first thing in the morning, it's a taxi for mine, as the Americanssay. And I shall catch her alone, after breakfast, before anyone'sabout. "

"Yea. " Barry paused, cursing himself for his cowardice, and then plungedrecklessly into the quicksand before him. "Owen, old man, have you heardanything about Miss Rees lately?"

"Heard anything?" He laid down his pipe and stared at his questioner. "Why should I hear anything? What is there to hear?"

Before replying Barry rose, and stood leaning against the mantelpiece;and as he looked down on his friend his heart was wrung within him atthe cruelty of fate. 

"You . .. You've not seen her name in the papers?" His throat was dry, but he went on bravely. 

"Papers? I've not looked at a newspaper for months. And anyway, whatshould I see about Vivian in any paper?"

"Only . .. I thought you might have done. " Barry was finding his taskalmost incredibly hard, and his brow was pearled with fine drops ofmoisture as he stood before his friend. 

"What was there to see, Barry?" Owen's voice was quiet--dangerouslyquiet. "Is there anything wrong with Vivian? Is she--has she been ill?"

"No. "

"Then . .. God! man, what are you trying to tell me?" His forced calm wasbreaking up. "Out with it--whatever it is. Is Vivian--is she _dead_?"

"No--oh, no. " He spoke hurriedly, thankful that he could at least answerthat question in the negative. 

"Then . .. What is it? Come, Barry"--Owen spoke through his teeth in ahoarse tone quite unlike his usual voice--"if Vivian is not dead, notill . .. What is this wonderful piece of news I might have read in thepapers--and did not?"

There was a moment's tense silence, broken only by the crackling of thegay little fire on the hearth. 

Then Barry said heavily:

"Miss Rees was married to Lord Saxonby this morning. "

CHAPTER II

For a moment there was a silence fraught with a thousand possibilities. Then Owen sprang from his seat and crossing the intervening space, as itwere in a bound, seized his friend savagely by the shoulders. 

"Say that again, Barry! Say it if you _dare_!"

With a fury of which he was unconscious he shook the other manviolently; and Barry broke away with an expression of annoyance. 

"Good God, Owen, what do you think you're doing? What do you mean byattacking me like this!"

"I'm going to knock your damned head off for telling me a lie!" His tonewas dangerous. "How dare you say that Vivian is married when you _know_she is engaged to me?"

"Look here, Owen. " Barry stood facing him, panting a little. "It's onlybecause you're my pal that I don't retaliate in kind. Any other man whocalls me a liar has to go through it, and that's a fact. But as it'syou, and as I know I've done the business badly--well"--his voice grewsuddenly wistful--"let's sit down and talk it over quietly, shall we?"

Something in his tone made the other man turn cold; and when he repliedhis manner had lost its vehemence. 

"See here, Barry, I'm sorry I attacked you like that. The fact is, I . .. I think I can't have understood rightly what you were trying totell me. You said something just now about Miss Rees being married toLord Saxonby. Well, what, exactly, did you mean?"

The very quietness with which he spoke made it still more difficult forBarry to answer him. 

"I meant just what I said. " He fidgeted nervously with a cigarette as hespoke. "Miss Rees was married--quietly--to Lord Saxonby this morning. "

"Lord Saxonby? You mean that chap who hung round her before I wentaway?" Owen's voice was studiously self-controlled, but his hand shookas he played with a silver pencil-case on the table before him. 

"Yes. That's the man. "

"I see. " For a moment he bent his head over the table, and when helooked up Barry understood that he had accepted the truth at last. "Soshe's played me false, has she? Married another fellow without troublingto let me know. Well, there's no more to be said, I suppose. I must makeup my mind to be the laughing-stock of my friends, to be pointed at bymen and women, jeered at in the clubs, as the fellow who wasjilted . .. Thrown over for another fellow!"

He paused; then resumed in a louder tone. 

"It's an ugly word, Barry--jilted. And by Jove, it's an ugly thing. Oddhow naturally women take to it, isn't it? They won't steal, as arule--draw the line at murder, but they think nothing of making damnedfools of men who are insane enough to believe in them!"

He laughed bitterly; and his eyes looked grim. 

"It would have been quite easy to let me know, wouldn't it?" He flungthe question at his friend. "A sixpenny wire--even a cable wouldn't haveruined her, would it? And it would have been much less brutal than tolet me come home expecting to find a blushing bride waiting for me!"

"I expect she . .. She thought you'd see it in the papers, " said Barryrather lamely. "Although it was kept pretty quiet here there wereparagraphs about it, of course, and she may have supposed you would seethem. "

"Hardly the thing to leave it to chance, " said Owen drily. "After all, when one gets out of an invitation to dinner, one generally sends anexcuse; but . .. " he broke off, and his eyes blazed suddenly ". .. Lookhere, Barry, you know, and I know, that this woman has played a low-downtrick on me. I thought her--well, no matter what I thought her--butanyway I know her now for what she is. And I'll be infinitely obliged toyou if you'll be good enough to drop the subject now and for evermore. "

"I say, old chap, I'm awfully sorry----"

Barry's impulsive speech got no further, for the other raised his handto cut it short. 

"All right, Barry, we'll take it all as said. Henceforth no such personas Miss Rees--I mean Lady Saxonby--exists for me; and if you'll rememberthat it will make things easier for us both. "

"Very well, Owen. " Barry felt emboldened to light a cigarette; and then, with a tactlessness born of mental discomfort, he asked a blunderingquestion. "What shall you do now, old man? Have another shot at big gamefor a bit, or what?"

"Another shot--I say, Barry, why on earth should I go back the momentI've got home? Oh, I see!" He smiled cynically. "You mean town won't bevery pleasant for a bit? Well, I daresay it won't, but thank God no onewill dare to say much to me!" His jaw squared itself ratheraggressively. "But I don't intend to quit. On the contrary, my firmintention is to remain here, do some good work, and, incidentally, marry. "

Barry swung round and faced him, openly surprised. 

"Marry? But--whom?"

"Oh, I don't know . .. At the moment; but someone. You look astonished, Barry! Why shouldn't I marry? Ah, I see! You think because one woman'sturned me down no one else will care to risk her happiness with me!Well, of course my value is considerably depreciated, no doubt; butafter all, men are in the minority, and I daresay I'll be able to findsome girl to take pity on me!"

"Don't talk like that, Owen!" Barry spoke hastily, and his blue eyeslooked rather stern. "You don't want a girl to take you out of pity, doyou? That's not much of a basis for a happy marriage, is it?"

"No, Barry. " He took the rebuke well. "I was talking like a fool. Buthonestly, I do mean to marry--as soon as possible. Oh, I daresay I'mtaking it the wrong way, but it seems to me that there's only one thingfor a man in my position to do, and that is to show that he's notheart-broken because one unscrupulous woman has treated him badly!"

"That's all very well--but what about the other woman? Are you going tomarry the first girl you meet, irrespective of love, or what _are_ yougoing to do? I can understand your feeling for Miss Rees has changed itsnature--love and hate are akin, I know, but still----"

"No, Barry, you're wrong. " He spoke very gently. "I don't _hate_ Vivian. Why should I? She merely exercised her feminine prerogative and changedher mind. Besides, one only hates big things. Vivian isn't big. She'svery small, or she'd not have done this thing. If she'd asked me torelease her, I'd have done it, and never have uttered a reproach. It'sthe heartlessness, the unnecessary cruelty of this that hurts me so. Iloved her, Barry, and she knew it. Loved her in the right way, in theway a man should love the woman he's going to marry; and my love meantso little to her that she chucked it away without even telling me shewas tired of it. "

"But to marry, out of revenge, as it were, is small too. "

"Out of revenge? Come, Barry, what are you thinking of?" Owen rose andspoke with an eerie joviality. "There'll be no revenge about it! Mayn'tI marry and settle down like another man? I'll guarantee that the firstwoman who wants me can have me; and if she plays the game she shan'tregret it, for I'll play it too!"

"But where will you look for her?" Barry could not understand thisattitude of mind. 

"Look for her? Oh, I'll look for her all right--and she'll turn up, never fear!" He moved restlessly. "There's always some woman ready toenter a man's life when he throws the door ajar--and here I'm positivelyflinging it open, inviting the little dears to come in!"

"But, I say, Owen"--Barry looked anxiously at hisfriend--"you . .. You'll be careful, won't you? I mean, you won't let anytwopenny-halfpenny little chorus-girl, or . .. Or girl out of a shop comein, will you? You see, if you let them all know. .. . "

"Chorus-girls are sometimes worth a good deal more thantwopence-halfpenny, " Owen reminded him quietly, "and I daresay a girlout of a shop would make a jolly decent wife. But I wasn't contemplatingthem when I spoke. "

"Of course not, " assented Barry hastily. "I only meant----"

"You only meant to give me good advice, " said Owen, more kindly than hehad yet spoken. "All right, old man, I understand. You must forgive meif I'm cross-grained to-night. You see I've had a shock----"

He broke off abruptly. 

"There, I'm not going to whine about it. It's over, done with, and a newchapter's started. " He yawned ostentatiously. "Barry, I shall call uponyour good offices as best man yet--unless you hurry up and marry MissLynn first. "

"Oh, Olive and I are in no hurry!" He laughed a trifle awkwardly. "Yousee, she is so young--only just eighteen--and her people won't hear ofit for a couple of years. "

"Well, that will soon pass. " He turned towards the door. "I must be offnow, Barry--it's late, and I'm pretty fagged. See you in the morning, Isuppose?"

"Of course. I say, Owen, sure you won't stay here to-night? I can giveyou a bed, you know. "

"Thanks awfully, old chap, but I'd rather get home. I've heaps of thingsto see to. Thanks all the same. "

Still talking, the friends crossed the hall, and Barry unlatched thedoor of the flat. 

"Well, so-long, Barry. Awfully glad to have seen you again. " He grippedthe younger man's hand, and Barry understood what the grip implied. 

"Good-night, Owen. See you to-morrow. "

Two minutes later Owen had disappeared round a bend in the staircase;and Barry went slowly back into his sitting-room, feeling curiouslytired, as though he had been indulging in some violent physicalexercise. 

"Poor old chap! What a beast that girl is!" He had never liked MissRees, and now felt, naturally, that his dislike was justified. "But Ihope to goodness he doesn't go and do anything rash. He's got a prettygood head on him, though, and I daresay a lot of this talk is merebravado. "

He turned off the light and went into his bedroom. On the dressing-tablestood a silver frame holding a photograph; and Barry took up the frameand studied the portrait carefully. 

"Olive, you'd never play me a trick like that, would you! My God, I hopeyou don't! It would just about kill me to have to lose faith in you!"

The deep eyes looked up at him candidly, the sweet mouth seemed tosmile; and with a sudden blissful certainty that the original of thephotograph was as true and straightforward as the picture proclaimed herto be, Barry put down the frame again, and began, whistling, to preparefor bed. 

CHAPTER III

A month later Barry relinquished his post as secretary to the man hecalled "old Joliffe, " and announced himself to be from henceforth atOwen's disposal. 

The review to which the latter had alluded was a long-standing ideal ofOwen Rose's. From his earliest youth he had been attracted by thejournalistic side of life, and seeing no means of editing a London dailyat an early age, he had wisely determined to learn the whole business ofnewspaper journalism from the beginning. At the ago of eighteen he wassub-editor on a big provincial daily; but his brilliant and versatileintelligence soon wearied of the monotony of the life, and he came toLondon to demand the right of admittance into Fleet Street. 

At that time, luckily for himself, he was on terms of friendship with awell-known editor; and what his own talent might have found difficultyin obtaining was placed unexpectedly within his reach. Before he wastwenty-five he was well-known in the newspaper world; and since, on histwenty-fifth birthday, he came into possession of the comfortable incomeleft to him by his father many years before, he was able to turn hisback definitely on any soul-destroying drudgery and devote his time andbrains to better work. Beneath his journalistic ability there was asound and delicate literary _flair_; and it had long been his dream tofound a magazine which, while neither commonplace nor unduly "precious, "should hit a happy mean between the cheap magazines devoted to more orless poor fiction, and the somewhat pompous reviews which held up thelight of learning and research in a rather severe and forbiddingfashion. 

He would have a little fiction--of the highest order. A comparativelylarge portion of the review was to be devoted to poetry, both asregarded original verse and the critical appreciation of modern poetryas a whole. Articles on art, music, the drama, were all to find a homein his pages; and there was to be a judicious sprinkling of science toadd a little ballast to the lighter freight. 

But what he intended to be the striking feature of the review was thetone which was to prevail throughout. It was to be warm, eager, enthusiastic, optimistic. He intended himself to write a series ofarticles dealing with the future in relation to the past. Eachsubject--music, literature, humanitarianism, mysticism, and a dozenothers--would be treated in turn; and while in no wise belittling themagic inventiveness of an age which has given us an Edison, a Marconi, and a whole host of brilliant explorers, birdmen, and others equallydaring and distinguished, he intended to remember always the enormousdebt which we of this century owe to the glorious past. 

Possibly in Owen's very enthusiasm, in the eager, ardent spirit of hisdreams, there was more of the spirit of the future than of the past--buthe intended to hold the balance as evenly as possible. 

On one point he was firm. While hoping that his review would be in everyway a serious contribution to the more valuable literature of the day, the literature which was worth something, he intended it to be strictlynon-political. There would be no room within its covers for writers withaxes to grind. No acrimonious discussions, thinly-veiled in pedantry, should mar the harmony of the pages; no party cries should echo from theeditorial offices; and although he aimed, in some measure, atinstructing and uplifting his readers, it was their betterment as humanbeings, rather than as citizens--so far as the two may be divorced--withwhich he intended to concern himself. 

He was fortunate in his collaborators. At his back he had an old friendof his fathers', a gifted, if somewhat inarticulate, man of letters, whohad longed, in his early life, for the opportunity to do what Owen wasdoing; and was generous enough to feel that, though his own working dayswere over, he might well use a little of his wealth in helping anotherman to realize their mutual dream. 

Everything was to be on a strictly business-like footing. Owen, aseditor, was to receive a moderate salary--moderate because he felt thatin the circumstances the backing he received was worth more than anyemolument. Also he was sufficiently well-off to waive the matter if hechose until the review was on firm financial ground. Barry, as hispersonal secretary and general second-in-command, was to receive agenerous sum; and the rest of the men, all young, ardent, and fired witha whole-hearted belief in Owen as their chief, were to be remuneratedaccording to their work and ability. 

A certain Miss Lucy Jenkins had been selected as typewriter andassistant at what seemed to her the princely sum of forty shillings aweek; and by the beginning of February activity at headquarters, apleasant, though not palatial suite of offices in Victoria Street, Westminster, was in full swing. 

The first number of the _Bridge_ was to make its appearance at Easter;and Owen was meditating one morning over the possible inclusion of alittle set of verses which had reached him from a hitherto-unknowncontributor, when Barry appeared in the doorway leading to his innersanctum with a worried look in his frank blue eyes. 

"Hallo, Barry, anything wrong?" Owen put down the paper he held andlooked at his young colleague with a smile. 

"Well, it's no end of a bore!" Barry frowned distastefully. "That stupidJenkins woman has gone and landed herself in Holloway!"

"Holloway?" Owen repeated the word in surprise. 

"Yes. I knew she was a Militant Suffragette, but I thought she wouldhave more sense than to go mixing herself up in brawls with the police!"

"And she hasn't?"

"No. On Saturday afternoon"--this was Monday--"she went and marched in aprocession of women out to smash windows or something of the sort, gotinto a row and kicked a bobby in the ribs. The end was she got locked upthat night. "

"Where is she now?"

"Brought up before the magistrate this morning and sentenced to fourteendays without an option for violence, " said Barry laconically. "I've justhad a note from her mother, who's nearly distracted, begging me to keepher place open for her, but I don't see how we can do that. "

"Certainly not, " said Owen decidedly. "I'll have no militant women on mystaff, and the sooner they understand that the better. She wasn't anygreat treasure, either. She was too fond of revising the stuff she hadto type; and her ideas and mine clashed considerably when it came topunctuation. "

"I suppose I must advertise for someone to take her place, then, " saidBarry, with a sigh. 

"Yes. Get a younger girl this time, if you can. Miss Jenkins had reachedthe certain--or uncertain--age when women take to militant suffragism. She didn't like being corrected when she made mistakes, and used toargue with me till you'd have thought it was she who ran the office, andnot I. "

"All right. I'll do my best. "

"Not too young, though, " said Owen, half-maliciously, "or she'll bethinking about her best boy all day instead of working. Of course that'sa bit better than militancy, less upsetting; but women are soincomprehensible when they're in what they are pleased to call love thatit's rather difficult to know what they're driving at. "

"Oh, all right!" Owen's flippancy disturbed Barry, and he spoke shortly, whereupon Owen smiled meaningly, and Barry went out of the room ratherhurriedly. 

Once safe in his own sanctum he lamented the unkind Fate which had givenOwen's heart as a plaything into the hands of an unscrupulous woman suchas Miss Rees had proved herself to be. Although Owen rarely mentionedthe subject, Barry knew well enough that he had not relinquished theidea of a speedy marriage. Once or twice Owen had asked him his opinionof this or that woman with whom they were both acquainted; but so far hehad shown no signs of forming any new engagement, though Barry lived ina state of apprehension lest his friend should suddenly announce a moreor less undesirable tie. 

For Owen, perhaps naturally, shunned the women of his own set. They allknew too much, knew the history of his disastrous engagement toowell--were, in many cases, friends of the woman who had jilted him; andwere therefore no acquaintances for a man in his mood. 

But there were other women, with whom, before his departure for theEast, he had been on terms of casual acquaintance; the daughters of Cityfriends, girls who lived in Kensington or Hampstead, girls with brotherswho had knocked up against the young men in athletic or journalisticcircles; an actress or two; good-hearted, ordinary young women for themost part, commonplace in spite of suburban leanings towards "culture, "and in many cases entirely out of sympathy with the aims and ideals ofboth Owen and his friend. 

As a matter of fact Owen and Barry were too busy during these strenuousdays to have time for social delights; but now and then they met one orother of these various girls, visited one of the actresses on a "firstnight, " dined, reluctantly, in Earl's Court or Belsize Road, and on thefollowing morning Owen would ask Barry, half-teasingly, whether Rose orSybil or Gwendoline struck him as the most suitable bride for an alreadyjilted bachelor. 

Barry never took up the subject, showed plainly by his manner that hedid not like the jest; but the occasional queries went to show that theidea of marriage was still in his friend's thoughts; and Barry was nowand again seriously uneasy lest some designing woman--that was the wayhe put it--should make the vague possibility into an accomplished fact. 

And then, just when the idea seemed to be fading, lost in the pressureof work, the interest of bringing forth the first realization of alifelong dream, the woman herself--but she was not designing--came. 

CHAPTER IV

Miss Antonia Gibbs came from the typewriting office with excellenttestimonials. Though but eighteen years of age, she was vouched for as asteady, conscientious worker, well-educated and of exceptionalintelligence. Quick, accurate, and possessed of a capital memory, shewould seem to be the ideal typist for an office such as that presidedover by Owen Rose; and after perusing the certificates and otherdocuments forming what one might call her _dossier_, Owen had really nochoice but to engage the prodigy. 

When she received the letter announcing the fact Miss Gibbs danced withdelight. 

"Two pounds a week! Think of it!" Thus she besought her cousin Fanny, arather full-blown young woman employed in a "drapery-house" at Brixton. "And easy hours--with an hour off for lunch! Isn't it lovely!"

"You'll have the office 'commish' to pay, " her cousin reminded her, "andI know all about those short hours! Sound well, but they generally wantovertime out of you--without paying for it either!"

"Do they?" Antonia's joy was momentarily checked. Then she recovered herspirits. "Anyway, even then it's a good post, and I can easily pay thecommission out of two pounds!"

"Yes, of course. " Fanny, whose natural optimism was somewhat impaired byher experience in drapers' shops, cheered up also. "It's a grandopportunity for you, Toni, and mind you make the most of it. "

"Rather, " returned Toni gaily. "I'm to start to-morrow, so this is mylast free night. Aren't you glad some people are coming in to tea?"

"Yes. " Fanny, recalled to the immediate present, began her preparationsfor the tea-party. "Josh'll be pleased to hear of your luck, Toni; he'sreal fond of you, you know. "

"Is he?" Toni, pulling off her flannel blouse, spoke a trifle absently. 

"Yes. If I weren't fond of you myself I declare I'd be jealous! Don'tknow how it is, all the boys seem to take to you straight away, Toni, and you don't care a pin for any of 'em!"

"Perhaps that's why, " said Toni cheerfully, voicing a truth without inthe least realizing it. "After all, who is there to care for? JackBrown, or young Graves, or that funny little Walter Britton out of Leaand Harper's?" She plunged her glowing face into a basin of cold wateras she spoke. 

"No. I s'pose they're not quite your sort. " Fanny stared thoughtfully ather cousin. "I don't know how it is, Toni--you are my cousin, yourfather was Dad's own brother--and yet you're as different from us as--aschalk from cheese. "

She in her turn had uttered a profound truth. Between Toni and the restof the commonplace lower-middle-class household was a great gulf fixed, a gulf which was the more inexplicable because it was clearly visible tothe parties on either side of the chasm. 

Red-faced, brawny Fred Gibbs, the butcher, his equally red-faced, thoughslightly more refined wife, and their several sons and daughters, belonging, most of them, to the category of "fine" boys and girls, werea good-humoured, kindly people enough; yet between them and the pretty, dark-eyed Antonia there was not the slightest vestige of resemblance, either in looks, manners, or disposition. 

Not that Toni gave herself airs. On the contrary, she was the mostcheerful and light-hearted little soul in the world. She flung herselfbodily into all the family's interests and pursuits, helped her unclewith his books and her aunt with her housework, was Fanny's swornconfidante and ally in all matters of the heart. The younger childrenadored her for her good looks, her vivacity, her high spirits; and eventhe flashes of rage which now and then marred her usually sunny temperwere fascinating in their very fire. 

Yet--with it all she was not, never would be, one of them. Fanny wasinclined to put it down to her foreign blood--for Toni's mother had beenItalian. The elder Gibbs fancied the girl's superior education wasresponsible--for Toni had been to a real "Seminary for Young Ladies, " incontradistinction to the Council School attended by her cousins; whileas for Toni herself, though she was as fully conscious as the rest thatshe was "different, somehow, " she could never say, with any certainty, in what the difference lay. 

Perhaps a psychologist would have found Antonia's position aninteresting one. Briefly, her history was this. 

The Gibbs were North-Country people, a good old yeoman family who hadbeen in service with an older and more aristocratic people in the countyof Yorkshire. The family, however, had begun, a few generations back, todie out. Instead of the usual lusty sons, only daughters had been bornto most of the Gibbs, and they in their turn married and died, in thenature of things relinquishing their own name, until there were fewleft. 

So the race dwindled, until old Matthew Gibbs and his two sons Fred andRoger were the last representatives of the old stock; and to thefather's bitter disappointment neither boy would consent to settle downon the farm and carry out the tradition of the family. Fred, always apushing, commercially-minded lad, found farming too slow andunprofitable to satisfy him, and he took service in a butcher's shop atYork, as a first step towards his goal, London, in which city heeventually made his home, married a Cockney girl, and settled down forthe rest of his prosperous life. 

The second son, Roger, early showed a desire to travel; and though hisfather would have kept him at home, he realized that after all youthwill be served, and let the boy go out into the world as soon as he hadpassed his eighteenth birthday. 

Being possessed of unlimited confidence, exceptional strength and alight-hearted determination to make something of life, Roger wassuccessful from the start. As is often her way with those from whom shemeans, later, to exact a heavy toll, Fate smiled upon the good-lookingyoung man who faced her so gaily. He got one post after another:secretary, mechanic, groom--for he was equally clever with hands andhead. In this or that capacity he travelled quite extensively for someyears, and finally, having a natural bent for languages, came to Rome inthe position of courier to a rich American family. It happened that thedaughter of the house had an Italian maid, a beautiful, refined girlfrom Southern Italy; and the young people quickly fell in love. In spiteof his apparent irresponsibility Roger had saved a little money, andwithin six months he had married his Italian girl and carried her off tolive in a village on the side of a mountain not far from Naples, wherefor four blissful years they lived in perfect contentment. 

Old Matthew Gibbs, having in his later years sustained heavyagricultural losses, was dead, and there was nothing to call Roger backto England. He much preferred, indeed, to remain in the South, and astheir wants were simple he and his wife were able to live quitecomfortably on Roger's own little bit of money and the few _lire_ hemade through the kindly offices of the village priest, who liked the gayyoung Englishman and put many odd jobs--translation, the acting asinterpreter and guide to tourists, and other things of the sort--in hisway. 

When Toni came to complete the trio, their happiness was complete; andfor three years after her birth the little house on the hill-side wasthe home of joy and love and all the pleasant domestic virtues andgraces. 

When the child was three years old, the elder Antonia, herself only agirl, died, after twenty-four hours' fever; and in one black hour Rogerpaid for all the sunny days with which Fortune had so lavishly endowedhim. 

When at length he summoned up resolution to face the future hedetermined, with a passionate desire to carry out his young wife'sunspoken entreaty, to devote himself to his child; and with thisintention he stayed on bravely in the little home from which thesunshine had departed. 

For nearly six years they lived together in the tiny village nearNaples; and gradually the pall began to lift from the young man'sspirit, and the sunshine and the flowers, the blue sky and sea, and thesnow-capped mountains made their appeal once again to the warm, ardentsoul which sorrow had darkened. 

During these six years father and daughter had lived frugally, almost asthe peasants lived; yet with a daintiness, an order, which were unknownto the peasants. The little Antonia--Toni, as they called her--grewstraight and strong as she played on the mountain slopes, or ate thesimple meals of grapes and bread and goat's flesh provided for her bythe old housekeeper, Fiammetta, who ruled both the pretty child and thehandsome young father with a rule of iron which yet made life a verywell-ordered and gracious existence. 

But when Toni had almost reached her ninth birthday the change came. Thegood old priest died; and with the death of his sole friend Roger Gibbsfound life in the village impossible. 

Truth to tell, it was a marvel he had borne it so long. Only a numbingblow such as he had received could have stunned his faculties intoacquiescence with this sleepy, uneventful existence; and now, suddenly, his soul awoke from its peaceful slumber and demanded life, and yet morelife. 

Italy became all at once unendurable. The nomad spirit was aroused, andnothing would satisfy the man but a fresh start in life's pilgrimage. 

His little daughter, too, must be educated; and although he loved thechild with all the concentrated passion of a man who has lost the womanof whom the child is his only memento, he yet felt that the time hadcome when he must shake himself free from the trammels of domesticityand live once again the life of a man in some free, wild, adventure-filled land. 

A month after Father Pietro's death Roger and his little daughterAntonia were in England. The father's first object was to seek out hisbrother Fred and see if he and his wife would take charge of the childfor a short time; and this he found both Fred and his comely spouse verywilling to do. There were other children in the home who were only tooready to welcome the pretty little Toni; and after a stay of some weeksin the noisy Brixton house Roger Gibbs had bidden his little daughterfarewell, and had gone forth once more, this time as assistant purser ona liner, a post to which one of his former employers had assisted himopportunely. It was a chance to see more of the world, and the manembraced it gladly enough, though it would certainly prove irksome inthe end. 

After that it was long before Toni saw her father again. At regularintervals he sent money for her maintenance; and she grew up with hercousins, attending the big Council School in the next street with them, and sharing in all the ups and downs of the Gibbs family. 

When she was thirteen Roger returned from an expedition to Peru, in thecourse of which he had amassed a respectable sum of money, and fatherand daughter met again, a meeting fraught, on Roger's side, withsomething like disappointment. 

Four years of London life had transformed the olive-skinned, dreamy-eyedchild into a pale, long-legged girl who, although she had not lost hersoft Southern voice, used the colloquialisms of street and playgroundwith unpleasing fluency. True, she wore her shabby clothes with an airof grace, but contact with other children had developed her into asharp, somewhat pert _gamine_, who was reputed quick at her lessons, butequally, and less meritoriously, quick with her tongue. 

Within her father's mind disillusionment reigned supreme. Naturally, itwas not the fault of the child that she had taken on so quickly thecolour of her environment; nor, fortunately, was it too late to overlaythose traits with other and more pleasing characteristics. But thinkingof the soft-eyed, gentle, loving Italian girl he had married, Rogerresolved that her child should have another chance before it was toolate; and with that object in mind he scoured the neighbourhood until hefound what suited him, a quiet, old-fashioned ladies' school, conductedby two prim but kindly women who appeared to him likely to have theinfluence he sought. 

The Misses Holland were interested in his story, pleased with the ideaof softening and refining the child, half-Italian, half-Londoner, andmade things easy for the bronzed and handsome father; with the resultthat from that time Toni's connection with the Council School ceased, and she became a boarder, on surprisingly low terms, at the aforesaidSchool for Young Ladies; where she remained until she was close onseventeen. 

These years were the turning point of Antonia's life. Here, in companywith twenty other girls, somewhat above her in station, she learnt, among other things, the virtues of gentleness, quietness in voice andmovement, unselfishness, and many kindred things; and those years ofhappy, monotonous toil, broken only by pleasant, friendly treats, orgentle, old-fashioned punishments, were full of use and value to thegrowing girl. 

On her seventeenth birthday she was to leave school for good; and it hadbeen settled that her father was then to return to England and make ahome for her--a hope which the girl had hugged to her heart through allthese quiet years. 

But on the very day which should have seen her emancipation somethinghappened. 

The liner on which Roger was hastening back to England, after a year inthe East, went down in a mighty gale off Gibraltar; and Roger Gibbs wasamong the drowned. 

 * * * * *

Of course all hope of that little home was at an end now. No moreremittances could be looked for, the store of money left for hereducation was all spent; and though it seemed incredible that Rogershould have made no provision for his daughter's future, such indeedproved to be the fact. 

Doubtless he had intended to settle down, to obtain some post inEngland; but as things turned out there was nothing left for Antonia. Let it be said at once that her relations behaved well. The MissesHolland, too, would have taken her to help in the school but for theunexpected advent of a needy niece of their own; but from the firstAntonia set her face against teaching. 

She did not like it, would rather go in for business, she said; and theupshot of it all was that after some time she managed to obtain a postin a large typewriting office in order to learn the work, after whichshe was required to give her services for a period of twelve months fora nominal salary in return for the teaching and business trainingbestowed upon her. 

It was not a very good bargain; but she closed with it in lieu of abetter opening; and when, in a few weeks from the date of her aunt'stea-party, she would be free to earn her living in her own way, shewould be able to defray the expense to which that same aunt had been putduring her time of apprenticeship. 

 * * * * *

So rapid is thought that between the beginning and ending of the task ofchanging her outdoor shoes and stockings for slightly better ones, Antonia's quick mind had flashed back over those years which had, so sheowned to herself, made all the difference; but not for worlds would shehave let her cousin know that she recognized any such difference. 

"Different! Not a bit of it!" She looked up and spoke with more warmththan usual. "And as for the boys liking me--well, you're engaged, andI'm not!"

"Well, yes, there is that to be said!" Fanny regarded with affection thecheap gold ring, set with imitation rubies, which adorned her plumphand. "But you know, Toni, you could got Mr. Dowson any minute if youtried!"

"Mr. Dowson!" Toni, occupied in brushing out her black hair, tossed herhead with a little foreign gesture peculiar to her. "Why, Fan, how couldI marry Mr. Dowson! He's very nice, and good-hearted, but his chest isnarrow, and he's going bald!"

"Well, that's not his fault, " returned Fanny practically, "and it's notwith age either, because he's quite young. I expect it's with studyingso hard. "

"I daresay--but still . .. Of course he's clever, " owned Toni rathergrudgingly, "he must be, to be a dentist, but--no, Fan, I'm not going tomarry Mr. Dowson, so there!"

"Oh, all right. " Fanny was a philosopher. "You know your own businessbest. Will you do me up, dear, and tell me how you like my frock? Ithink myself it's rather striking. "

Thus besought, Toni stuck the last pin-casually in her hair and came togive her assistance in the matter of "doing up. "

Miss Frances Gibbs' dress was composed of a bright rose-pink voile, bought cheaply at a sale, ornamented with a sash of ribbon of an equallyvivid hue of violet; and striking it certainly was, in the sense thatone felt inclined to collapse at sight of it. Miss Gibbs' figure beingof the order which dressmakers call "full, " the effect was distinctlystartling; and as Fanny had carefully arranged her abundant hair in asmany rolls as she could possibly manage, it is to be inferred that shepresented a more overpowering effect than ever. 

Although, possibly owing to her Italian blood, Toni herself had aweakness for bright colours, on other people, this daring juxtapositionof pink and violet was a trifle bizarre even for her taste; and shelooked critically at Fanny as the latter paraded under the gas jet inorder to show off the "creation" to its best advantage. 

"Well?" Fanny's tone was anxious; and Antonia flung scruple to thewinds. 

"It's lovely, Fan, and you look scrumptious in it!" She hastily producedfrom a paper bag a bunch of violets she had intended for her ownadornment. "Here, let me pin these in for you, they will finish you offbeautifully. "

"But they're yours, Toni!"

"Oh, never mind me!" Toni laughed recklessly. "I've not got a Joshwaiting for me downstairs--and anyway, I don't much care to wearflowers, they die so quickly, poor dears. "

Her own frock, an oft-washed white muslin, was donned in a second. Abright green ribbon round her waist, a pair of greenstone earrings putin beneath the clustering black hair, giving her a quaintly picturesquelook, and Antonia was ready for the evening's jollity. 

As the cousins ran downstairs together, an appetising smell of roastingchickens came to their nostrils, and Toni sniffed appreciatively. 

"I wish Uncle Fred had a birthday every week! Isn't it fun having peoplein and playing games afterwards!"

"Rather, but I wish we'd been going to the theatre!"

"Well, so do I, " conceded Toni, "but anyhow this is better than one ofour usual dull evenings!"

Half an hour later the feast was in full progress. The table in thelittle "front room" literally groaned with good things; indeed, soliberally was it provided that half-way through the meal the butcherinsisted on removing the vase of chrysanthemums which stood proudly inthe middle on a green paper mat, alleging as he did so that "themflowers took up a sight too much room"--an axiom to which he stuck inspite of his daughter's remonstrances. 

Besides the family there were three guests. Mr. Joshua Lee who wasengaged to Fanny, naturally had the place of honour beside her; and fromthat vantage ground he played the part of prospective son-in-law toperfection, removing the plates, running about in search of a mislaidsalt-cellar, and generally acquitting himself, so Fanny thought proudly, like a perfect gentleman. 

The other two guests were less busy. One of them, Mr. Britton, satbeside his hostess and carried on an animated conversation with her asto the nature and effect of the various patent medicines they hadmutually sampled; while the remaining guest, Mr. Dowson, sat next toAntonia, and endeavoured, without much success, to attract her attentionto himself. 

Halfway through one of his most intimate speeches Toni interrupted himruthlessly. 

"Aunt Jean, where's Lu?"

"Got smacked and sent to bed for stealing jam, " her youngest cousininformed her unctuously. "My! She did howl! I guess Ma thumped herpretty well!"

"I did whip her rather hard, " confessed Mrs. Gibbs half-apologetically. "I was real vexed with her when I found her with her fingers in the jar!But there, she's been wanting a smacking long enough, and I expect it'lldo her good, " she finished up cheerfully. 

"Poor Lu! And she'd been so looking forward to to-night!" Toni's softheart was wrung for the culprit. "Did she have any tea, Auntie?"

"Not she. I sent her straight off to bed. " Mrs. Gibbs' tone was uneasynow. "And she didn't eat no dinner to-day, she was that excited!"

"Oh, poor Lu! Can't I take her up something, Aunt Jean?"

Mrs. Gibbs appeared to consider the question, though everyone at thetable knew very well that her mother-heart had relented towards herdarling long ago. 

"Well, I don't mind if you do take her just a bite, " she said presently;and amid much laughter and sympathetic joking a tray was fitted out withvarious delicacies and entrusted to the willing hands of Antonia. 

Up she went, finding Lu's room in darkness, Lu herself lying sullenlyawake, refusing to be comforted. 

Her plump little person had strongly resented the force of her mother'sstern hand; but her vanity was more severely hurt by the fact that thevisitors downstairs would know both the cause and the method of herpunishment. Therefore she turned away and pretended to be asleep; butToni's gentle hand pulling down the clothes, Toni's soft voice murmuringof forgiveness and compensation were too much for the child. 

She sat up, disclosing the tear-stains on her round cheeks in the lightof the candle Toni carried, and allowed herself to be comforted withalternate bites of chicken and sips of lemonade. 

"That's better!" Toni gave her a plate of trifle, and brushed back thetangled curls from the hot little forehead. "Now eat that up and then Imust run away. They're waiting for me, you know, so when you've finishedyou must give me a kiss and go straight to sleep. "

"Yes, Toni. " Lu lay obediently down, soothed by the girl's kind tone. "I'll go to sleep all right if . .. If Ma'll come up and say good-night!"

"Of course she will!" Toni smiled at the child's involuntary clinging tothe mother who had punished her. "I'll tell her you're waiting--and nowI must fly! Good-night, Ducky, sleep well!"

She kissed the child, her eyes very soft as she bent over the bed; andthen, picking up the tray, she ran swiftly downstairs again andre-entered the room where tea was rapidly drawing to an end. 

"How kind-hearted you are, Miss Toni, " said Mr. Dowson admiringly as sheslipped into her seat beside him. "Lots of people would have said thekiddy deserved to be whipped and sent to bed. "

"I daresay she did, but that didn't make it any better--for her, "laughed Toni, with a vivid remembrance of her aunt's corrective powers. "I know what Auntie's whippings are like, you see, and they're no joke!"

"You don't mean to say Mrs. Gibbs ever dared to . .. To punish you, MissAntonia?" His pale-blue eyes were aghast at the thought of suchsacrilege. 

"Oh, rather!" Toni laughed joyously at his face of horror. "She'swhipped me heaps, of times. .. . I expect I deserved it, too, for I canassure you I was never a pattern child!"

"I . .. I would like to see anyone venture to lay a hand on you, " saidMr. Dowson earnestly--too earnestly for Toni's liking. "Miss Antonia, ifyou . .. If you would only give me the right . .. "

Bang! An hilariously-disposed little Gibbs had exploded a cracker in theyoung man's ear; and Mr. Dowson, blushing to the very edge of hisextremely high collar, subsided rather wrathfully. 

Much to Antonia's relief the party rose from the table a moment later;and with a stern determination in her mind not to allow Mr. Dowsonanother opportunity to make the avowal which she knew very well trembledon his lips, Toni bustled gaily about, helping to clear the table andmake things ready for the evening's festivity. 

Mr. Dowson's pale eyes followed her about rather wistfully. To him thewhite-clad, black-crowned little figure represented a dream--thefulfilment, rather, of an ideal which he had never dared to hope wouldmaterialize in his own hard-working, rather grey and sordid life. 

Although, thanks to a kindly patron, Leonard Dowson had been able tocarry out his desire and qualify as a dentist, he was under no delusionas to his social position. He came of humble, illiterate folk, and heknew well enough that in a fashionable, high-class practice he would bealtogether out of place. 

He set up his surgery, therefore, in the populous neighbourhood ofBrixton; and now, after five years' strenuous toil, he was beginning topay his way, beginning also to dream of a wife to bear him company inthe dingy, narrow house in which he dwelt. 

That Antonia Gibbs would ever consent to be his wife he almost feared tobelieve. He wooed her persistently, quietly, bringing her books--whichshe seldom opened--an occasional bunch of flowers, or, more rarelystill, a box of sweets of some variety which his professional soulwarranted harmless, for Mr. Dowson was conscientiousness itself, andnothing would have persuaded him to place his lady-love's little whiteteeth in jeopardy, even though by such means she might be brought intocontact with him. 

For her sake he scraped and saved, denying himself the least luxury, sothat if she came to him he could at least offer her a decent home; andevery act of petty self-sacrifice was sweet to him because it wasendured for her. 

Yet Toni never gave him a second thought. To her, in her vivid youth, Mr. Dowson, with his thirty-five years, his prematurely bald head, hisnarrow chest, was a being of another race than her own. She knew--theminx--that the man was deeply and quietly in love with her, but with theunconscious cruelty of youth she ignored his suffering, and possiblydespised him ever so little that he continued to sigh for somethingwhich he ought to have known was, for him, unattainable. 

Yet to-night, her spirits raised by her unexpected good-fortune, Tonishowed herself more than usually bewitching; and although she managed tostave off the declaration which still trembled on the young man's lips, she played games with him in the most friendly fashion, and bade himgood-night at last with so sweet a smile that he almost fell upon hisknees then and there and kissed the slim little feet in their cheappatent shoes!

He did not do it, fortunately. He retained just sufficient common senseto know that the proceeding would have annoyed his divinity; and insteadhe merely squeezed her hand and murmured a few inarticulate words whichmeant a good deal more than they contrived to convey. 

Then, arriving at home, he went to bed--and dreamed of Toni. 

But Toni's dreams--the rainbow dreams of happy youth--were of a verydifferent quality. 

CHAPTER V

Precisely at nine o'clock on the following morning Antonia presentedherself at the office of the new review; and was forthwith conducted tothe editor's room. 

Here Owen and Barry were waiting for her; and at the sight of the trimlittle figure in the doorway the faces of both men brightened. 

In truth Toni was pleasant to look upon. She had taken off her hat andcoat in the little ante-room, and as she stood there in her black frock, with its demure little white turn-down collar, she looked very young, very shy, and if the truth must be told, very pretty. Whereupon Barry, who loved all pretty girls in a harmless, kindly fashion, rejoicedexceedingly; while even Owen, to whom things feminine were at presentanathema, owned to himself that she was certainly more attractive tohave about the place than her sour-faced predecessor. 

It was Barry who put her at her ease, of course. Not being troubled withshyness he greeted her in friendly fashion, bade her come in, andpointed out to her the chair, behind the typewriter, which she wasexpected to fill. 

Yes, she said, in answer to questioning, she was used to a Remington. No, she had never been connected with journalism before. Yes, she waswell up in ordinary office work, and--in answer to Owen, this--she knewpretty well the rules of composition, grammar, etc. 

"That's good. " Owen spoke formally, and Toni decided instantly that sheliked Mr. Raymond the better of the two. "Well, I have here an article Iwant you to type at once, and then--can you read proof?"

Blushing, she owned her inability to do so. Privately, she was not atall sure what he meant, but dread of Miss Hardy's wrath should she bereturned to the office marked "Incompetent" forced her to add quickly:--

"But I'm sure I could learn if--if you wouldn't mind showing me how todo it. "

"I'm sure you could. " Barry spoke kindly and she turned to him with afeeling of relief. "When you have typed that article for Mr. Rose I'llshow you how, and then you'll manage all right. "

"Teach her now, " advised Rose, looking up from the manuscript he wasscanning. "This stuff wants a bit of revising, and you might as well dosomething for your living, Barry, you lazy wretch. "

Barry smilingly disclaimed any right to the title. 

"I'm ready to work as hard as anyone, " he said gaily. 

"But as I'm only considered fit to do the theatrical criticisms and playoffice-boy to you, Owen, naturally I find time to make holiday now andthen. Well, Miss . .. Er . .. "

"Gibbs. " She supplied him with the name as he hesitated. 

"Gibbs? You won't mind being known as 'Our Miss Gibbs, ' will you?" Histone was free of all offence, and Toni smiled in response. "Now, here'sa chair for me, and if only our chief will hold his peace for half anhour, I'll soon put you wise, as the Yankees say. "

He sat down beside her, and pulling a couple of galley proof-sheetstowards him, began to initiate her into the mysteries of "reading. " Forall his laughing manner he was an excellent teacher; and after twentyminutes of his clear and lucid exposition the girl felt she wasbeginning to grasp her lesson thoroughly. She proved, too, wonderfullyquick at detecting mistakes, and Barry, who had petitioned the heads ofthe office they had selected not to send him any Council School product, was pleased to find that her spelling was admirable, her grammarpassable, and her memory retentive. 

As to the meaning which the article they were correcting conveyed toher, Barry was a little doubtful. 

It was a short summary, by a famous Catholic writer, of some of thelesser-understood aspects of mysticism; and Barry suspected that a gooddeal of it was Greek to her, though she did her best to answer himintelligently when he questioned her, rather artfully, on the correctreading of a somewhat involved sentence. 

As a matter of fact, Toni was wondering inwardly what on earth it wasall about. Her education, though sound so far as it went, had beenthoroughly old-fashioned; and at this period of her development it is tobe feared there were whole tracts of mind and brain left vacant--forToni belonged, by adoption at least, to a class who read only foramusement and occupation, and are not in the least anxious to try theirmental teeth on any abstract theories or philosophies of life. She wasat present all for the concrete. Things seen and known were ofimportance, things unseen were alike uninteresting and incredible. Theabstract virtues were all very well, but life was much too vivid andimportant to allow itself to be ousted by dreams and speculations. 

Something of this Barry, who had an almost femininely swift intuition, guessed as he sat beside Toni on this first morning; but Toni was muchtoo intent on her work to wonder what he thought of her; and by the timeshe had done a little typing, taken down a few letters, and read a shortproof all by herself, it was one o'clock, and she was dismissed insearch of lunch. 

When she returned, nearly an hour later, she found Owen alone, studyinga dummy copy of the review; and seeing she was interested, Owen handedit over for her to see. 

"The _Bridge_. " She quoted the title a little dubiously. "Is that whatyou call it? But--what does it mean?"

Taking it back into his own hands, Owen pointed with a pencil to thedesign on the cover. 

"Here is the Bridge, you see, and this stream of people passing over itsymbolize the present generation. This side of the bridge represents thepast, from which the present comes; this, over the bridge, is thefuture, towards which the pilgrims are hastening. The idea is to bridgethe gulf between past and future, between the old worlds and the new;and with that in mind we try, while never neglecting the storehouse ofthe past, to point to the future, with all its wonderful, and as yetunwon, rewards and discoveries. "

She murmured a word or two, and he went on with a note of enthusiasm inhis voice. 

"Personally, I look to the future with confidence. Some people saythe golden age of poetry, of music and letters generally, is past;but I don't agree. I think that there will be a fresh Renaissancepresently, that there will be found fresh hands to pass on the sacredtorch . .. There's a flood of brilliant youth let loose in the world justnow; and every bit of help the _Bridge_ can give is at the service ofthat marvellous band. "

He broke off suddenly, the light of the visionary gleaming in his eyes;but seeing, with a slight pang of disappointment, that his outburst wasunintelligible to his hearer, he threw down the paper and laughed. 

"There, Miss Gibbs, I have finished! Don't start me on the subjectunless you're ready to be bored. Talk to Barry about it--he is able tolook upon the _Bridge_ quite sanely, as a means of providing bread andbutter; but I'm afraid I'm a bit of a fanatic. "

Toni, uncertain of her ground, but desperately anxious to appearintelligent, murmured something shyly, and Rose pulled out his watchwith a smile. 

"After two already! Well, Miss Gibbs, I'm off for lunch. You might justsort these papers out a bit, will you? We seem to have let things getinto rather a muddle. "

"I'll do it at once. There would be plenty of room for everything ifsome of these papers wore tidied up. "

"Yes, I suppose you're right. " Owen, who loved order, but was tooimpatient to preserve it, spoke dubiously. "Of course some of thosepapers are done with, but you wouldn't know which to keep, would you?"

"Perhaps Mr. Raymond would help me?"

Owen's face cleared. 

"Of course--do the idle young beggar good. All right, Miss Gibbs, heshall give you a hand this afternoon when he gets back. He's an awfullygood sort, you know, though I pretend to rag him. He's as clever as youplease, and with it all as obliging and unspoilt as possible. Well, I'dbetter go. You can get along all right, can you?"

Receiving her reply, he lit a cigarette and went out, assuring himselfthat so far she promised well. 

"Pretty little thing, and anxious to please us. Shallow, I expect, emotional probably, and not brainy enough to appreciate the symbolism ofthe _Bridge_. Well, we don't want too brilliant a typist, afterall--Miss Jenkins and her 'culture' were a bit trying at times!"

And then meeting by chance an old friend who insisted on carrying himoff to lunch, Owen speedily forgot that such a person as Miss AntoniaGibbs existed in the world. 

CHAPTER VI

It did not take Miss Fanny Gibbs very long to discover that her cousin'snew post held for her an interest beyond that which an unusuallycongenial situation might be expected to hold. 

In Miss Gibbs' world one's "job" was generally of very secondaryimportance to one's private affairs; and the fact is not to be wonderedat when one remembers that the life of the average shop or business girlcan by no manner of means be called either pleasant or exciting. 

Hitherto Toni had been fully in accord with her cousin's opinion. Although the robust, if promiscuous, flirtations in which Fanny, beforeher engagement, had indulged freely had never appealed to the morefastidious Toni, she had always been quite ready to join in any funwhich might be going. She had eaten sweets gaily in the cheap seats oftheatre or picture-palace, had made one at the many informal andharmless little gatherings for which Fanny had a taste; and hadcheerfully and quite normally grumbled if detained at the office onemoment longer than she considered fair. 

But of late Antonia had altered strangely; and Fanny's shrewd eyes notedthe change almost from the first. 

To begin with, Toni was always in a fidget to get to work. Miss Gibbstook her annual week's holiday just then, and had plenty of time to noteher cousin's behaviour; and the way in which Toni swallowed herbreakfast and clad herself for the start was a revelation to one whoknew her former dilatory nature. 

Toni had always been careful of her appearance--more so than her cousinconsidered at all necessary; but now she was absolutely ridiculous, sothought Fanny, with her new Peter-Pan collars and her fussy attention toher pretty hands, set off by tiny lace cuffs to match the collars. Herblack frock, only a year old, was perfectly good and serviceable yet;but the extravagant creature must needs make herself another one in herspare time, and never had she been so particular about the cut, nor soincessant in her demands on Fanny for a helping hand with the"trying-on. " She bought herself a new hat, too, a little soft affair inwhich she looked perfectly delicious; and as the days went by it seemedto Fanny that her cousin was growing prettier and more attractive everyweek, with a still more bewitching colour in her rounded cheeks, and astill more sparkling light in her Southern eyes. 

Yet even her woman's wit could not fathom the mystery of Toni's new joyin life. When interrogated concerning her employers, Toni was alwaysvague. That there were two of them Fanny knew; but from Toni's extremelycolourless description, Miss Gibbs gathered that neither was at all whatthe girls called interesting; and Mr. Rose, at least, almostmiddle-aged. (Heaven knows what flight of fancy on the part ofToni--Toni, whose magic romance was the shyest, most delicate fantasy inthe world--was responsible for that fallacy!)

That Barry was younger Fanny understood; but so lightly did Toni touchupon his kindness that Fanny could not be accused of density in herconception of him as a nonentity in whom her little cousin could take nointerest. 

Yet that someone was responsible for Toni's sudden outburst of newbeauty Miss Gibbs felt assured; and it gradually dawned upon her thatthere were other men about the place to whom Miss Antonia Gibbs mightwell appeal. 

When questioned about these others, the subordinates who were workerslike herself, Antonia at first stared, then coloured impatiently, andfinally laughed, with a queer note of impishness in her laughter whichpuzzled Fanny more than ever. 

That she, who was privileged to breathe the same atmosphere as OwenRose, could be supposed even to realize the existence of any outsiderwas in itself absurd, if not almost insulting; but Toni was quick to seethat here was the opportunity she sought to conceal her wonderful, presumptuous dream. 

For she was in love--she knew it now--wildly, deliriously, gloriously inlove with Owen. To her he was the embodiment of all that was most noble, most god-like in man. His voice was music, his commands gifts, his rarevexation as the frown of Jove. She trembled and turned pale at hisfootstep, and when he spoke to her suddenly her heart throbbed and hercolour came and went until she felt as though he must observe heremotion. 

In a word, she was in love; and when it is remembered that on one sideof her Toni was purely of the South--the glowing, ardent, passionateSouth--it is not to be wondered at that this new emotion dominated herwhole being to the exclusion of all else. 

Her love, indeed, was pathetic in its young ignorance. Anyone could havetold her that she was wasting her treasure, that it was the act of afool to pour out her priceless gift at the feet of one who did not wantit, who would consider it a mere presumption. 

Her place in Owen's life was that of a servant, a subordinate; and hercommon sense should have told her that in that light alone would Oweninevitably behold her. Vaguely she realized this--knew well enough thathe never thought of her save as his more or less useful secretary, butafter all, she could not be expected to reason out this thing tooclosely. Its very vagueness, indeed, lent it charm. Her love was veiled, as it were, in a most delicate, most diaphanous mist, which took from itall earthliness, and left it intangible, magical as some gift fromfairyland. So far, no hint of desire had entered into it. It was allunselfish, girlish adoration, an almost childish reverence for oneimmeasurably her superior; and though she made her new dress andadjusted her little bits of muslin and lace with scrupulous care, it wasnot so much in the hope that she might find favour in Owen's eyes as inthe personal longing to make herself more worthy of the love within her. 

It never entered her head that Owen would suspect her secret. Indeed, the whole affair was so dream-like, of so unsubstantial, so gossamer alightness, that merely to speculate upon her romance would have been toshatter it, as one might put a finger through a fairy cobweb. 

She loved--and at present that was enough. To be with Owen daily, to sitin the same room, breathe the same air, obey his wishes, help him withhis work, was all she desired; and being at heart an incurable littleoptimist, she was content to weave her rose-coloured dreams, spin hershining web, with no anxiety about the future to shadow and darken herthoughts. 

Yet Barry, with his quick intuition, was uncannily aware of the girl'sinfatuation; and it was Barry who, through his very knowledge of hersecret, precipitated the inevitable revelation. 

 * * * * *

One day during Toni's absence for lunch the two men were sittingtogether in Owen's room when Owen suddenly threw a large unmountedphotograph across to his friend. 

"What's this, Owen? Oh--your house at Willowhurst, isn't it? By Jove, it's a lovely place--I wonder you don't live there. "

The moment he had spoken he would willingly have recalled his words, butOwen gave him no time. 

"You forget--I was going to live there!" His smile was forced. "Thepeople who have had it for years cleared out last October, and it wasall put in apple-pie order then, in anticipation of my wife's arrival. "

Barry, red and embarrassed, said nothing, but examined the photographwith unnecessary minuteness. 

"Seems a pity the place should stand idle, " went on Owen musingly. "It'sa jolly old house, and been in the family for centuries--built beforethe river became fashionable--and the grounds are really fine; somegorgeous old trees and shrubs in them. "

"How far from town?" Barry put the first question that suggested itself. 

"Oh, not far--twenty or thirty miles. You can get up easily in a car orby a fast train. Greenriver--that's the house--is really charminglysituated, with big grounds at the back, and the river just beneath thehouse. "

"You lived there as a youngster?"

"Yes. When my father died my mother couldn't bear to live there, and welet the place. After her death I could have gone back, but somehow Ididn't want to. It was only when I met Vivian----"

He broke off suddenly, and springing to his feet, began to pace up anddown. 

"By Jove, Barry, what fools we men make of ourselves over women! Justbecause Vivian was kind, smiled on me, seemed really interested in myaffairs, I told her everything--all sorts of things I haven't even toldyou, old chap! We used to go for strolls together in the summerevenings--once or twice we motored down to Richmond and went for a walkin the park . .. We used to talk about all sorts of things . .. Women arethe very deuce for leading men on to talk. They pretend to be sointerested, ask such gentle little questions, are so sympathetic, sokind . .. And when it comes to sport, a girl like Vivian can talk as wellas any man. "

He sighed impatiently. 

"We didn't talk sentiment--those days. We were chums--the best ofchums . .. Discussed flying, motoring--she used to drive a little carof her own. Sometimes we played golf--and, by Jove, she could prettynearly beat me! She was interested in all the things I liked, was arattling good shot with a rifle, and hadn't a nerve in her. Clever, too;could talk on all sorts of subjects, and had read books I'd never evenheard of! She spoke three or four languages . .. But--but it wasn'tthat. "

He broke off in his rambling talk to light a cigarette, and thencontinued, in the same musing tone. 

"It was something else. She was so handsome, so--so fine, somehow. Iused to think, when we were engaged, that she was like Brunhilde, orsome of the other Wagnerian heroines. Sometimes I couldn't helpthinking"--he coloured--"what splendid children a woman like that wouldhave. She . .. She satisfied one, somehow. You knew she was sound inevery way--the sort of woman one would always be proud of--and when Ithought of her as the mistress of Greenriver, I----"

He threw away his cigarette impatiently. 

"What a fool I am! What a damned fool you must think me, raving about awoman who played me the shabbiest trick a woman could play! God! When Ithink of it--think how I was deceived, I--I hate the woman! I hatemyself for being such a fool, but I hate her more! Well, she's marriednow--good luck to her!--and there's only one thing for me to do; I mustget married too!"

"But why?" Barry's blue eyes were very kindly as they looked at hisfriend. "Why not go on as you are for a bit longer?"

"Why not?" He stretched out his arms with a curious, restless gesture. "Because I've got unsettled, I suppose. You see, when you've looked onyourself as practically a married man, planned everything, renouncedyour bachelor ways and anticipated a new and more settled existence, well, somehow you can't go back to the old state of things. There's thehouse, too. I feel as though I wanted to live in it again--the servantsare clamouring for me to go there. I promised, you know, and the riveris so lovely in the summer. .. . "

"Well, why not go down and have a car?"

"Go there--alone?" He spoke bitterly. "No, thanks. That would be folly. I meant to go with my wife----"

Suddenly he stopped in his restless pacing and faced Barry with gleamingeyes. 

"By gad, Barry! Why shouldn't I take my wife there after all?"

"Your wife?" Even the quick-witted Barry was at fault. 

"Yes. My wife. " He laughed at the other man's face. "Oh, I'm not marriedyet, but why shouldn't I be? I swore I'd marry the first woman who'dhave me, and it's just occurred to me--Barry, do you thing she _would_have me?"

"She? _What_ she?" demanded Barry in justifiable bewilderment. 

"Why, our excellent little secretary and typist--our Miss Gibbs--ourAntonia, known at home as Toni!"

Barry's boyish face flushed crimson, and for a second he looked so angrythat Owen stared in genuine amazement. 

"Well, Barry, what's up? I assure you my intentions are strictlyhonourable! If she'll have me, she shall step into the shoes vacated byMiss Vivian Rees, and succeed to the house, the car, the boats, and allthe rest of the worldly goods which weren't sufficient to tempt mybeautiful _fiancée_!"

"See here, Owen. " Barry's voice was quiet. "I suppose you're ragging, but let me tell you I think the rag's in execrable taste, and I'll beobliged if you'll drop the subject. "

For a second Owen seemed about to retort in the same tone. Then, quitesuddenly, his face changed. 

"Say, Barry, why all these frills? You surely didn't think I meant anyharm--any disrespect to the girl?"

"Of course not. " He spoke rather coldly. "Only--well, I don't like tohear you joking about marrying Miss Gibbs. She's a decent little thing, and far too good to be made a cat's paw in a game of revenge. "

Owen looked at his friend quietly. 

"You're right, Barry, and if I were only joking it would be a bitlow-down. But suppose I mean it? Suppose I ask the girl to marry me, quite quietly, not entering into any heroics or telling any condemnedlies, and she accepts me, what then?"

Barry's heart gave a sudden throb of dismay. There was something behindOwen's calm manner which made him feel vaguely uneasy. Could it be thatOwen too had surprised Toni's pitiful little secret--that he knew--hadknown all along that the girl was not so indifferent to him as shewished to appear?

For the moment Barry was nonplussed. If it were so, if Owen knew, and, knowing, chose to take the risk of the girl's acceptance, had he anyright to interfere?

That Toni would accept, Barry felt almost convinced; and yet, fond as hewas of his friend, fond as he was, too, of the girl with whom he hadworked during these weeks of spring, Barry was clear-sighted enough tofeel assured that such a marriage would not make for happiness. 

It might answer for a time. If Toni wore genuinely attached to Rose, asBarry was inclined to believe, it was possible--nay, probable--that heraffection for him would bring out the best in Owen's nature, and hewould repay that affection with a real and kindly consideration. Butwhen the first freshness had worn off, when Owen should have grown usedto the girl's shy gratitude and devotion, when her prettiness, herradiant youth, her naďve simplicity should have ceased to charm, whatthen would remain?

For all his sporting instincts Owen was primarily a man of letters, versatile, brilliant, even distinguished in his way; and Barry foresaw abitter disillusionment for each of the pair when the real dissimilarityof their natures should, as must inevitably happen, become apparent toboth. 

To Toni, who never willingly opened a book, her husband's delight andabsorption in the masterpieces of literature must be a constant wonder;while to Rose, Toni's ignorance, her youthful, unashamed lack ofinterest in the "things which matter" would be a perpetual irritation. 

Although not so brilliant as his friend, Barry experienced at timesflashes of almost uncanny insight; and as he contemplated thepossibility of this marriage he had a sudden clear conviction that itwould not, could not, turn out successfully. 

"See here, Owen"--he faced the other man resolutely--"you must know thething is quite impossible. Miss Gibbs is a nice little girl, a prettylittle thing and as straight as a die. But she is not your equal in anysense; neither socially nor intellectually; and though you may notbelieve it, you would regret the marriage in a week. "

Owen looked at him, half-affectionately, half-quizzically, for a moment. 

"Why should I, Barry? Toni may not be of very exalted birth, but she isa hundred times more ladylike than half the flappers one meets inSociety nowadays, with their cigarette-cases, their bridge purses andtheir slangy talk. One of those loud young women would be the death ofme in a week--and you know Toni's voice is delightfully soft, with quitea Southern intonation--caught in Italy, I expect. "

"But what of her education--or lack of it?" Barry went on relentlessly. "You know quite well that the girl is a little ignoramus in reality. Shehas read nothing, been nowhere, learned precious little; and she has nomore conversation than--than a Persian cat. "

"That's a bad simile, " said Owen calmly. "A Persian cat doesn't talkmuch, I admit, but it is a most fascinating piece of mystery when itsits still and says nothing. And Miss Gibbs may in reality be just asmysterious. "

"Oh, you're impossible!" Barry spoke impatiently, and Owen's mannerchanged. 

"Come, Barry, confess the truth. You're afraid Toni will jump at me--toput it baldly. You know"--for a second he hesitated--"you know, Barry, I'm not blind, and I can't help seeing that the girl has . .. Well, takena fancy to me; and if that is so, seeing that the woman I wantedwouldn't have me, why shouldn't I offer myself to the one who . .. Wouldperhaps take me if I asked her to?"

"You really mean to ask her, then?"

"Yes. I know you won't approve, old chap, but I'm going to do it all thesame. The girl may refuse me, you know, and then there'll be no harmdone. "

And nothing could move him from the attitude he had adopted. The utmostconcession Barry could wring from him was a promise to wait for a weekat least before carrying out his plan; and during the whole of that weekBarry did his utmost to dissuade his friend from taking a step which heforesaw would end in disaster. 

He argued, cajoled, even thundered, in vain. He spoke of disparity oftastes, of habits, of views on life in general; and Owen laughinglyreminded him that dissimilarity in tastes was supposed to be a goodfoundation for wedded happiness. 

He pointed out that although Antonia herself was a lady in the bestsense of the word, neither he nor Owen knew anything of her family; andhe endeavoured to alarm Rose by his vigorous sketch of her possiblyundesirable relations. 

"I tell you the girl's an orphan, " said Owen, smiling as Barry finishedpainting an imaginary portrait of a very unattractive mother-in-law. "She lives with an uncle and aunt and a family of cousins somewhereBrixton way. "

"Then I suppose the wedding will take place in Brixton, " said Barry, with an assumption of polite interest, and Owen coloured in spite ofhimself. 

"No--at least, not in a church. I can't face a regular wedding, Barry, seeing my bride isn't the one I expected to lead to the altar. I thinkthe Registrar will have to tie the knot, and we'll dispense with all thefuss of satins and veils and white flowers that I was dreading with allmy heart!"

Something in his tone--a hint of dreary disappointment, of awretchedness hitherto well concealed, made Barry feel compunction forhis own rough handling of what must have been in reality a sore subject;and quite suddenly he abandoned his own superior, not to saycondemnatory, attitude for a more human, more sympathetic frame of mind. 

"I say, old chap"--Owen's eyes lightened with pleasure at the friendlytone--"I've been an awful beast all this time. The fact is, I've thoughtonly of the girl's point of view. It didn't seem fair she should be usedas a sort of tool to make your position easier; but after all, I believeon my soul she'd ask nothing better than to marry you; and I know you'dtreat her decently, so--so if----"

"If I like to do it, you'll give me your blessing, eh, Barry?" Owen'ssmile was a little melancholy. "Well, I'll take advantage of yourpermission and put it to the little girl herself. She may refuse me, ofcourse--Miss Rees didn't find me irresistible, did she?" A hint of thedeadly wound she had dealt him coloured his tone. "But unless I'm aconceited fool I believe I have a sporting chance at least--and I'd liketo show Lady Saxonby she's not the only woman in the world for me!"

At that moment Toni herself entered the room; and with an effort bothmen greeted her as usual, and proceeded to the ordinary routine of theday's work without giving her any indication that she had interrupted adiscussion of the highest importance to herself. 

CHAPTER VII

Antonia had just returned from lunch on the following day when Owencalled her to him; and she hastened to obey the summons, still wearingher hat and coat. 

"Oh, Miss Gibbs"--his tone was admirably casual. "I've been wonderingwhether you would mind helping me this afternoon. I want some books frommy house down at Willowhurst to verify some quotations in an article Iam writing for the next number of the _Bridge_. "

"Yes, Mr. Rose?"

"I intended first going down in the car for them, but as it seems a pityto bring a lot of old books up to town, I thought if you would come downtoo, bringing the little Blick typewriter with you, I could get you tocopy out the quotations I want, and I needn't take the books away. "

Insensibly Toni's eyes brightened. 

"Yes, Mr. Rose. I should be very pleased. "

"That's right. Well, I'll go out and get some lunch. Will you be readyin half an hour?"

"Yes--I've just time to run through these letters. "

"Very well. _Au revoir!_ I'll be back at half-past two. "

He went out, and Antonia joyfully pirouetted round the room beforesettling to work--somewhat to the surprise of Barry, who entered at thatmoment. 

"Hallo, Miss Gibbs--practising the turkey-trot, or what?"

She stopped, blushing hotly, and tried in vain to look unconcerned. 

"No, Mr. Raymond. Only--Mr. Rose wants me to motor down to Willowhurstwith him about some books--and it's such a lovely day!"

"You like motoring?" Barry could not resist a sympathetic smile. 

"Oh, I just love it!" She clasped her hands in rapture. "Of course, I'veonly been in taxis and char-ŕ-bancs and things, but I've always wantedto go in a real motor-car--a private one, I mean!"

"Have you never been in one?" Her childish confession made Barry feelhalf pitiful, half dismayed. 

"No, how should I?" She laughed, showing her pretty teethwhole-heartedly. "You know girls in my position don't go about inmotors! Of course"--with one of her sudden changes of mood she paled andspoke slowly--"if my father had lived things would have been different. "

"You lived in Italy together?"

"Yes. " She sank into a chair, and went on speaking dreamily, her chin cradled in her hollowed hands. "We lived in a village notfar from Naples. Oh, how beautiful Italy is in the spring, whenthe pink almond-blossom makes the hill-sides look like a greatrose-garden . .. And the oranges and lemons flame out among thedark-green leaves--and the roads are hot and white, and the bluesea lies at the back of everything, sparkling in the sunshine. .. . "

She paused, but Barry, fascinated by this revelation of a depth, almosta poetry, in the nature he had thought shallow and commonplace, saidnothing; and after a second she continued. 

"There was a steep hill behind our little house, and sometimes the sheepthat browsed there would stray . .. So that the boy would sit and pipe tothem to come back. I used to watch him pipe, and make a garland ofvine-leaves and put it on his curls, and my father would laugh and callhim Pan, and say he was really thousands of years old . .. And the sheepwould come up the slope looking so white against the green, and the airwould be full of the smell of the violets they crushed beneath theirfeet. .. . "

Again she paused, and this time Barry prompted her. 

"And when he had found his flock, what did your boy-Pan do then?"

"Then he would drive them away over the hill-side, and we would hear hispipe growing fainter and fainter in the distance, until it died awayaltogether. .. . "

She sprang up suddenly. 

"Oh, Mr. Raymond, what nonsense I'm talking! That life's over and donewith, and I've all these letters to copy!"

"All right--I won't interrupt!" He took up some papers. "But just tellme this. Do you ever want to go back to Italy?"

She hesitated, considering. 

"No, I think not, " she said at last. "You see, it would all bedifferent. My father wouldn't be there, nor the Padre--and even oldFiammetta may be dead by now. "

"But the place would be the same--the sea as blue!"

"Ah, I should like to see the sea!" She spoke softly. "Do you know I'veonly seen the sea once since I came to England--when we went to Southendfor the day. And there it was all cold and grey--and the sands weremud . .. It wasn't a bit like my sea, and I wished I'd never seen it. "

There were actually tears in her eyes, and Barry cursed himself for afool, as he went rather absently into his own room, leaving her to herwork--which work was done none the less carefully because of the vaguelongings which the conversation had aroused in the worker's breast. 

Punctually at two-thirty Owen returned, and Toni ran down the steps witha smiling face from which all traces of tears had long since vanished. 

The car was waiting in the dingy street, and Toni's foot was actually onthe step when she turned and looked at Owen with a kind of desperateappeal in her eyes. 

"Mr. Rose, do you drive the car yourself?"

"Yes. I sit in front, you know--ah, would you like to sit with me?"

"May I?" Her accent was acceptance enough; and two minutes later Toni, as happy as a queen, was installed by the driver's side, and the carbegan to glide faster and faster down the street on its way to the opencountry beyond the town. 

When they had gone a little distance Owen turned to look at hispassenger, and for a second his heart stood still at the expression onher face. Surely no girl would look so rapturously happy unless somemagic were at work. .. . 

"Are you warm enough? There's a big coat in the car. " He spoke abruptly, but the girl shook her head gratefully. 

"No, I'm quite warm, thank you. "

She had tied on her soft little hat with a scarf of some thin materialwhich framed her face very satisfactorily, and Owen did not press thequestion. 

On and on sped the car, through Putney and Richmond, on past Feltham andStaines, eating up the miles so fast that before they knew it they wereout in the country, flying along the level road between hedges whosegreen had not as yet become dusty with the summer's traffic. 

It was a glorious afternoon in early May, and the Thames valley was atits best. On either hand were fields sown thick with creamy daisies andyellow buttercups. Down in a marshy hollow they caught a glimpse of acarpet of golden kingcups, and once they passed a tiny dell in whosevery heart an azure mist whispered of bluebells; while the blackthornand the may made the air fragrant for miles. The birds were singingtheir hearts out in the mellow sunshine, and now and again the cuckoo'scall came floating over the meadows from copse or spinney. 

Ever and anon as they shot through some village hamlet they caughtglimpses of orchards in full blossom, the pink and white bloom standingout against the pale blue of the sky with the effect of some delicateJapanese painting; and in all the little gardens flowers riotedjoyously. 

To Toni, spending her life in dingy Brixton, this afternoon was ared-letter day. The soft, clean air which blew in her face was differentfrom the stagnant air of the Brixton streets; the scent of flowers wasgrateful after the odours of the City, and the vision, now and then, ofthe flashing river was a delight to eyes tired with much staring at uglyhouses and shops. 

If Toni said little during that magic excursion, it was not shynessalone which sealed her lips; and although he cast a look now and then athis companion, Owen was too considerate to break into her raptures withquestioning words. 

Only when they were approaching their destination did he begin to pointout the various features of the landscape. 

"That village over there is Willgate, noted for an old Saxon arch in itschurch. My mother used to go over there to evening service, I remember. She liked it better than our own church--the one you can just seepeeping between the trees. The village--Willowhurst, I mean--lies roundthis bend. It's quite a rural-looking place, when you remember thatafter all it is not an hour's journey from Waterloo. "

The car glided round the bend as he spoke, and Toni saw the villagelying in the afternoon sunshine, which winked back from the windows ofthe little houses, built in a queer, old-fashioned manner round a smallgreen. There was a pleasant, old-world look about the place which wasoddly charming; and Toni was quite sorry when the car left the littlegreen behind. But in another minute they were on a stretch of white roadbordered by a high wall, behind which tall trees stood like sentinels;and Toni caught her breath as Owen said, in a voice which he tried, vainly, to keep steady:

"See, there's Greenriver--my home--beyond the trees. "

They had reached the high gates in the wall, and when once they hadentered and were rolling up the broad avenue Toni gazed eagerly in thedirection he had indicated. 

Greenriver was a stately old place enough. It had been built in the daysof Queen Bess; and was just such a house as that in which JusticeShallow might have entertained Falstaff--a long grey building with aporch in the centre and a huge gable at either end--a house withdeep-mullioned windows and large stacks of chimney-pots. 

The house faced the river, to which it led by a terrace of velvety turf, broken here and there by gay flower-beds; while the real gardens lay atthe other side of the building. Here beauty and dignity had joinedhands, as it were, to preserve the stately loveliness of the grounds, under whose tall elms many a joyous company must have roamed when theriver was the highway of elegance and fashion, and great barges floateddown the Thames bearing Royal personages reclining on their couchescovered with cloth of gold. Here on summer evenings the nightingalessang to the roses for which the gardens were famous; and for centuriesthe big white owls had hooted from their nests in the tree-tops, orflown, like pale ghosts, across the dusky paths. 

The grounds were indeed noted all along the river for the magnificenceof their green, velvety lawns, the size and beauty of the flowers inparterre and bed, the wonderful completeness--and in some cases theantiquity--of the contents of the famous herbaceous border; and Toninever forgot the sensation of awe which overwhelmed her as she realizedthat this glorious place belonged to the man beside her. 

She spoke a little shyly as the car came to a standstill at the foot ofthe steps leading to the big door. 

"This is your house?"

"Yes, this is Greenriver. " He helped her out of the car. "And here is myold friend Mrs. Blades coming to meet us. "

An elderly, rather prim-looking woman came forward as Owen advanced, andin her eyes shone a welcoming light. 

"Come in, sir. We were beginning to wonder if you were coming to-day. "

"Yes--started rather late. " Owen gave her hand a friendly shake. "But weshan't have to go back just yet. I want to have a chat with you by andbye, Mrs. Blades. This young lady, Miss Gibbs, has kindly come down tohelp me with some work. "

"I'm sure the young lady is very welcome, " was Mrs. Blades'old-fashioned reply. "Shan't I make you a cup o' tea, sir, first ofall?"

"Well, a cup of tea would be nice . .. But I think, if Miss Gibbs isn'ttired, we'll get on with our work first, and then we'll enjoy it better. Eh, Miss Gibbs?"

Miss Gibbs agreed; and five minutes later she was installed, with hertypewriter, in the library. Owen busied himself, for a few moments, atthe shelves, searching for the books he wanted; and Toni spent the timein gazing round her, wonder, admiration and awe mingling in her gaze. 

The room was large and lofty and the big mullioned windows looked outupon a beautiful terrace, bordered with wallflowers, jonquils, andmasses of dancing daffodils. The grass, smooth as velvet, led to a stonebalustrade, beyond which lay the river, sparkling in the sunshine, whilst beyond that again were green fields, broken here and there byclumps of majestic trees, the fields in their turn leading to a range ofdistant, misty, blue hills. 

The room itself was second only in interest to the view. In all her lifeToni had never entered such a room--had never imagined, indeed, thatprivate houses boasted such apartments. 

The furniture was all of dark-green leather--the big saddle-bag chairs, the low divan and the smaller chairs all being upholstered in the samematerial, while the wall was distempered a lighter shade of green, andthe carpet was of a darker tone. In one of the deep window embrasureswas a bureau, of just the right height to allow anyone sitting before itto enjoy the prospect without; while the table at which Toni sat was alarge, heavy affair, evidently intended for serious work. 

But the generally sombre tone of the room formed an excellent backgroundfor the books which lined its walls. Shelf after shelf of them rose fromthe floor, almost to the ceiling; and since many were bound in soft, rich colours, they struck a delightful note in the rather dusky whole. 

There were books bound in leather, dark-brown calf, soft red or bluemorocco; richly-tooled volumes, slim books clothed in tan or purplesučde, gay with gold edges and lettering; priceless old volumes, rareblack-letter editions, poets, classics, all the standard novels. .. . Tonihad never seen so many books in her life; and it must be confessed thatshe regarded them with something akin to awe. 

Who in the world could wish to read these hundreds of volumes? For alltheir beautiful bindings she had a conviction that the contents would beappallingly dull; and her eyes fled gladly to the more congenial sceneoutside the windows where the flowers danced gaily in the sunshine and alittle skiff floated by on the shimmering river, like some magic boatgliding to a haven in fairyland. 

Presently Owen approached the table, bearing an armful of thin books, bound for the most part in soft fawn sučde. 

"Look, Miss Gibbs, these are the verses I want you to copy. " He pointedout the poems, and gave her one or two instructions, while Toni, conscious that she had been dreaming away her time, hastily uncoveredher typewriter and took up a sheet of paper. 

"If you'll do these, I'll go and have a chat with old Mrs. Blades, " saidOwen presently. "Then we'll have tea, and if there's time I'll show youthe gardens. They are really worth seeing. "

She thanked him shyly and he went out. In the doorway he paused, lookingback at her as she sat among the books; and if she had looked up shecould not have failed to observe something odd in the expression withwhich he was regarding her. 

But she did not look up; and after a few seconds' scrutiny he went outquietly and closed the door. 

It did not take Toni very long to finish her task. Almost as she tookthe last sheet of paper out of the typewriter the door opened to admitOwen and a staid-looking maid with a tea-tray. 

"Well, Miss Gibbs, finished?" Owen came forward with a smile. "That'sgood! Now you shall have some tea to refresh you after your toil. Let mesee, Kate, where shall we have it?"

The maid suggested that the table in the far window would be suitable;and as the afternoon sunshine still streamed in, making a pleasantwarmth, Owen agreed heartily. 

Evidently Mrs. Blades had not been taken unprepared; for there weredainty sandwiches, hot cakes, and a big and substantial-lookingseed-loaf, which was, so Owen informed his guest, his housekeeper'sspecial pride. 

"Now"--Kate had withdrawn after placing the massive silver tea-pot onthe tray--"will you pour out for me, Miss Gibbs? And I'll hand thecakes. "

Blushing gloriously, Toni slipped into the seat behind the tray. Inhonour of the fine day she had discarded her black frock for a sergeskirt and a girlish-looking white blouse, open at the throat; and nowthat she had thrown aside her veil, her black hair, prettily loosenedbeneath her soft little hat, made an ebony frame for her vivid face. 

As he watched her gravely attending to the duties of the tea-tray, Owentold himself that he might have made a worse choice. 

He had long ago surprised her secret--although Toni had no idea of herself-betrayal. At this stage of her development Toni was pure emotion--amere lamp through which love might shine unchecked, casting its beamsunashamedly upon the object of its devotion. Later she might learn, asmany women do, to interpose a veil between her soul and the world. Thelamp would shine with a tempered beam, its glow moderated to a mereeven, more tranquil light, and none would recognize the quality of itsburning. 

But at present Toni's love was so whole-hearted, so innocently, pathetically intense that it was no wonder Owen had divined both itsnature and its object long ago. 

Well, to a heart rendered sore by a woman's callousness, such a warm, eager devotion as this was inexpressibly attractive; and if Owen's eyeswere blinded by suffering, there was surely a chance that Toni's softfingers laid upon their lids might prolong the merciful myopia. 

When tea was over there came a sudden little silence. The dusk wasfalling; and the garden wore a ghostly look; while the river laypassively unreflecting beneath the twilit sky. 

The atmosphere of the room changed with the passing of thesunlight--grew tense, electric, almost, one would have said, expectant;and Owen realized that the moment for which he waited had come. 

Toni, having finished her tea, was sitting rather slackly in her chair, gazing dreamily out of the window; and Owen hesitated for a minutebefore he spoke. She looked so young, so wistful, so helpless. It wasalmost unfair, selfish, to speak to the child--and then, suddenly, heknew that selfish or no, he must put an end to his own solitarysore-heartedness. 

"Toni"--she looked up as he spoke, and his utterance of her name set thewhole atmosphere throbbing with wild, sweet possibilities--"I want toask you something. "

She did not speak, only her eyes fastened on his face. 

"Do you think, Toni"--for a moment he faltered, then plunged bravelyon--"you could ever bring yourself to marry me? Oh, I know you'resurprised--I ought not to spring it on you like this--but if you will bemy wife I will do my best to make you happy. "

There was a silence. Suddenly an owl flew, hooting, past the window, andin the dusk his white wings looked ghostly, unreal. 

Then, quite quietly, Toni spoke. 

"Mr. Rose, do you mean it? You want to marry me?"

"Yes, dear. " For an instant he spoke as one speaks to a child, sopowerful was the illusion of youth in the large-eyed Toni just then. "Well, what do you say? Will you have me?"

He was still sitting in the big chair opposite to her, one hand on thearm, the other clenched on his knee; and he was unprepared for Toni'sanswer. 

With a sudden rush she was out of her chair, and the next moment she waskneeling beside him, her face all aglow with love and wonder. 

"You mean it?" She could only, it seemed, question his meaning. "But--how did you know I loved you, Mr. Rose? I never let you see--didI?"

With that soft, sparkling face upturned to his, those Italian eyesgazing at him with an intensity of appeal in their liquid depths, oneanswer alone was possible. 

"No, Toni, you never let me see that! But if it's true--if you do loveme a little--well, is it--yes?"

For answer she suddenly laid her head on his knee and burst into apassion of wild sobbing. Poor, emotional, overwrought little Toni! Whyshe wept she had no idea, but it was the same emotion which had madeher, as a child, weep at the sight of a group of violets growing in thegrass, at the sound of the shepherd's pipe, the scent of the sea-ladenbreeze. Although her heart was so full of bliss that she could scarcelybear it, there was a wild, inexplicable sadness in it too, which tearsalone could assuage; and though she tried to recapture her self-control, it was useless until she had cried away the first bewilderment. 

But Owen, unused to the complex Southern nature, was thoroughlynonplussed by her tears. In vain he besought her to calm herself, beggedher to listen to him, to refuse him if the thought of his offer made hermiserable. Toni only cried the harder; and at last, uncertain of hisground, but feeling that something must be done, Owen stooped down andlifted her bodily on to his knee. 

Once in his arms, her tears ceased as if by magic. She lay against hisheart like a child, and as he felt her little body in his arms a newfeeling of pity, almost of gratitude, awoke in his heart. 

If his love meant so much to her--then it should be hers--if indeed lovecould be bestowed at will. In any case he would marry her and devote hislife to making her happy; and in his curiously exalted state of mindOwen quite lost sight of the fact that when one is the lover and theother the beloved, between the two there is often a great gulf fixed. 

 * * * * *

When at last Owen roused the girl, who had sobbed herself intoquiescence in his arms, the room was nearly dark. 

"Come, Toni, it's getting cold and dark in here. What do you say, shallwe get Mrs. Blades to give us a little dinner and go home bymoonlight--or would you rather start at once?"

"I would rather go now. " She spoke in a low voice, like a child that isuncertain of its treatment; and Owen guessed she was ashamed of hertears. 

He set himself to reassure her. 

"Well, just as you like. Wait a moment, though. I'll light a candle, andyou shall put your hat straight, and tie on that precious veil of yoursfirst. "

While she tidied herself, rather self-consciously, before a large ovalmirror, Owen gathered up the papers she had typewritten; and when heturned towards her at last she was able to conjure up a rather wanlittle smile. 

"Good girl!" He laid his hand kindly on her arm. "Now we'll be off--butfirst, do you mind if I let old Blades into our secret? She's a faithfulold soul, though her temper's a bit crabby, and she'll be awfullypleased!"

She assented, of course; and opening the door Owen led her across thedim hall towards the kitchen regions. 

Evidently the magic hour of lighting-up was at hand, for when they hadpassed through the green baize door which shut off the servants'premises, they found themselves in a brightly-lit passage, at the end ofwhich Mrs. Blades' voice could be heard energetically exhorting a maidto "be quick and take these lamps. "

"Come along, we'll pay her a visit in her room, " said Owen, his eyessparkling with fun; and drawing Toni's arm through his he ran with herdown the passage, and drew up finally in a large square room where Mrs. Blades was at work. 

In spite of her shyness Toni was lost in wonder at the nature of thatwork. The room itself was lighted with gas, flaring in an iron cage; buton the table in front of Mrs. Blades were no less than ten smalloil-lamps, evidently intended to hang against the wall, and fashioned insome wrought metal which gave them a curiously medićval look. 

"Hallo, Mrs. Blades!" Owen's voice made her turn round quickly. "The TenLittle Ladies going as strong as ever, I see!"

"Yes, Mr. Owen, they're still on the go. " She regarded the lampsaffectionately. "At first Mr. Leetham used to say a good big lamp wouldbe best, at the head of the stairs; but afterwards he got to like theLittle Ladies, and we've had 'em every night. "

"We'll have to go on having them, " declared Owen. "Look, Toni, they'rereally quite pretty, aren't they? And thanks to Mrs. Blades they give ajolly good light. "

"But--the 'Little Ladies'?" Toni looked, as she felt, puzzled. 

"Yes, it was a fancy of my father's. He would never have gas anywhereexcept in the kitchens; and the long gallery upstairs, where all thebedrooms are, was always as dark as Erebus. " He laughed, catching sightof the blank look on Mrs. Blades' face at the word. "So my motherinvented these lamps, years ago when I was a tiny kid, and every nightthey are fixed at intervals along the walls of the gallery. "

"But the name?"

"Oh, I don't know who first christened them, but they've always beenknown as the Ten Little Ladies--and always will be, I suppose. Eh, Mrs. Blades?"

"So long as I'm here, sir, I hope they will be, " rejoined Mrs. Bladessomewhat formally; and something in her tone made Owen remember hisresolve. 

He looked round. The door was open into the passage, a rosy-cheeked maidwaiting, apparently, to carry off the tray with the Little Ladies; buton Owen approaching with the intention of closing the door she withdrewmodestly out of earshot. 

Coming back to the table Owen took one of Toni's hands in his and turnedto the old housekeeper, who glanced with sudden shrewdness at the girl'sshy face. 

"Mrs. Blades, " said Owen quietly, "Miss Gibbs has promised to marry me;and I hope that before many weeks are over we shall come down to live atGreenriver. Well, what do you say? Will you welcome us when we come?"

The half-boyish, half-masterful tone in which he spoke seemed too muchfor the old woman, who had watched Owen grow from boy to man, and now, after a lapse of years, saw him in his manhood. She looked first at him, then at the pale girl by his side, and her features worked oddly. 

"Come, Mrs. Blades!" Owen had had enough of tears for one afternoon. "Cheer up! Don't look as if we were going to cut off your head! That's apoor welcome to Miss Gibbs!"

Thus reproved, the housekeeper did her best to conjure up a morecheerful expression; and managed presently to shake Toni's cold littlehand with a respectful word or two; after which Owen discovered that itwas high time to go. 

Five minutes later Toni was snugly packed into the car again; and Owenwas about to take his seat when he remembered that he had left thetypewritten sheets in the housekeeper's room. 

"I'll run back for them, Toni. " He jumped down from the step. "I won'tbe a moment. You don't mind waiting?"

"Of course not!" She smiled up at him with dewy eyes. "Don't hurry--it'sso lovely here in the dusk--the flowers smell so sweet. "

Re-entering the house, Owen ran down the passage with hasty feet. Mrs. Blades, who had a tendency to what she called "chronical brownkitis, "had not ventured to brave the night air; and Owen found her stillregarding the Little Ladies, who burned trimly on the tray before her. 

"All right, Mrs. Blades--I've only left some papers!" He snatched themup as he spoke, and crammed them into the pocket of his leather coat. "That's all--now I'm really off. "

He patted her carelessly on the shoulder as he passed her; but to hissurprise she put out a veined hand to stay his progress. 

"Mr. Owen"--her voice shook--"do you really mean that you're going tomarry the young lady?"

"Of course, Blades. " Unconsciously Owen pulled himself together. "Whyshould I say such a thing if I did not mean it?"

"Because. .. " the old woman faltered ". .. Miss Gibbs ain't the sort oflady you ought to marry. She . .. She's not like the other lady you weregoing to bring here as mistress of Greenriver . .. The one as waspresented at Court with all them lovely feathers in her hair. "

An expression such as she had never seen before crossed Owen's face. Heshook off her hand impatiently. 

"Oh, you're an old silly, Blades. " His voice was grating. "Miss Gibbs isa thousand times more suitable to be the mistress of Greenriver. The--the other lady thought very small beer of us all down here--shewasn't our sort, I assure you!"

"Neither is this one. " The old woman stuck to her guns with theobstinacy of age. "Mr. Owen, I remember your father bringing home hisbride--a girl she was, only eighteen--but the highest lady in the landcouldn't have been evened to her. Miss Gibbs is pretty and a good girl, I'm sure, but--but she ain't like your mother, Mr. Owen; and you oughtto look higher when you marry than her!"

"Don't be a fool, Blades!" Owen spoke angrily now. "If I think MissGibbs good enough to be my wife that's quite sufficient for everyone. After all, I'm not such a great catch, " he added bitterly. 

"Nay, Mr. Owen, don't be vexed with me!" Too late the old womanregretted her foolish words. "I'm growing old, and maybe I'm in mydotage . .. Ah, he's gone--I've driven the lad away with my folly!"

It was indeed so. Owen had flung out of the door angrily; and as shelistened, half-afraid, she heard his steps receding down the passagetowards the hall. There was impatience in his very tread; for, truth totell, Owen felt a kind of hot anger welling in his heart as heremembered the words she had spoken. 

At first he was merely annoyed at what he called herpresumption--induced, he supposed, by her long connection with thefamily. But suddenly a feeling of vague uneasiness descended upon him, and he paused before going out to join Toni in the car. 

"She only saw Toni for a moment--barely heard her speak--and yet shespeaks as though I were making an unsuitable marriage. " He frownedthoughtfully, anger dying before some feeling whose nature he could not, yet, recognize. "I wonder--what could she mean?"

He stood in the quiet hall, fighting down a host of surmises, ofunwelcome doubts which sprang, it would seem, out of the twilight, brought to birth by an old woman's homely words; and in thoseilluminating seconds Owen allowed himself to wonder whether, after all, he had committed an action which he would find cause to regret. 

But somehow the idea seemed a treachery towards the girl who sat waitingso trustfully, so happily for his coming; and with a sudden uplifting ofhis head, Owen went resolutely out to the car. 

 * * * * *

But Mrs. Blades, left alone, shod a few of the difficult tears of age asshe went over the little scene. She felt suddenly old; and for the firsttime in her busy, self-satisfied life she questioned her own wisdom. 

Then she too shook off her uncomfortable thoughts, and calling the rosyMaggie to her, delivered into her hands the Ten Little Ladies, who stillwaited patiently upon the tray for their nightly release. 

CHAPTER VIII

On a beautiful midsummer morning Antonia Rose crept softly down thebroad old staircase of Greenriver and crossed the hall with sofairy-light a tread that never a soul in the house could hear afootstep. 

It was very early, barely half-past five; but the glorious summermorning was calling, calling insistently to Toni to come and share itsglories; and the call was not one to be disregarded, by Antonia atleast. 

Not a thing stirred. In the gallery the Ten Little Ladies grew wan andfaded before the vitality of the daylight; and when, after somedifficulty, Toni unlocked the big hall door and let in a flood ofsunshine, they gave up the unequal contest and expired quietly. 

Ah! What a world of beauty burst upon Toni's gaze as she stood, thrilling delightfully with a sense of adventure, on the big stone stepsoutside the great door. 

A rush of perfume from the tall lilies greeted her first; followed by aperfect shower of fragrance from the pink and creamy roses growingbeside the door. Other scents there were--a dozen of them--from theflowers massed in glowing ranks in the beds; but the lilies and theroses had it all their own way; and Toni laughed with delight as theyassailed her with their sweetness. 

There was music, too, in this pearly dawn. In the trees the birds wereastir, twittering their songs of morning; and already the velvety brownbees were beginning to hum their spinning chorus as they hovered hereand there among the tall flowers which stood in rows before the windows, like marriageable maidens waiting for inspection. 

Beyond the terrace lay the river, shining with that strange, etherealeffect of silver which water has beneath the early morning sky; and awaybeyond the river the thin, delicate mists of the night were rising likevaporous ghosts, to dissolve in the fresh, clean atmosphere of dawn. 

"Oh, how beautiful it all is! What a lovely world God made when Hemade--this!" Toni stood on the steps with arms outstretched, like someyoung priestess of a pagan faith welcoming the sun. "And why do we lieasleep in stuffy beds when all the birds and flowers have been awake forages!"

She pulled the big door gently to behind her, and then ran through thegardens and across the terrace to the big grey balustrade which kept theboundary of the garden from the towing path beyond. Leaning her arms onthe stone she looked out over the shining river, and in fancy her spiritroved here and there--to the violet-strewn mountain slopes of Italywhere she had passed her childhood . .. To the wonderful, rocky coast ofCornwall where her honeymoon had been spent. 

At the thought of the Cornish seas she caught her breath. Thosemarvellous green billows, foaming in the sunshine, dashing against thecliffs with a sound like thunder; the gentler wavelets creaming over thesnow-white sands in lines of lotus-blue; the pools, deep and limpid, where in the aquamarine water all kind of strange sea-creatures lived;the jagged, tooth-like rocks springing from the depths of the ocean, ready to destroy the passing ships; the still more wonderfullighthouses, rising, some of them, like tall white needles into theturquoise sky; the gulls, flashing grey and white in the sunshine; thesalt scent of the sea mingling with the pungent fragrance of the yellowgorse, hot with the sun . .. Surely the Cornish coast was a very favouredspot, and the Scilly Isles, to which passage could be taken in a queer, cranky boat, were indeed the Fortunate Isles, cradled by the bluest, most magical, most romantic waters in the world!

Thoughts of the ocean were indissolubly bound up with all Toni'sthoughts of her honeymoon. Acting on a hint from Barry, Owen had takenhis bride straight away from the Registrar's dingy office to Paddington, thence to Cornwall; and he would never forget the sight of Toni's facewhen first she saw the sea, lying purple and green beneath a stormy sky. 

During the long journey she had said very little, shyness enveloping heras in a mantle; but when the train began to run along the sea shore, sothat the whole expanse of ocean lay spread before the window, Toni'sface changed, her eyes sparkled, and she turned to Owen with aspontaneous expression of delight. 

Now, looking back, it seemed to Toni that never for an instant had thevoice of the sea been out of her ears during all those wonderful daysand nights. Its song had helped her to bear herself properly during thelong hours alone with the man she had married. Again and again, whenembarrassment threatened to overcome her at this unusually prolonged_tęte-ŕ-tęte_, the sea whispered to her to take courage; and each nightshe fell asleep to its murmured lullaby. 

During the fortnight which they spent down in the genial West Country, Owen gave himself up entirely to the service of his young wife. Hedivined pretty well what she was feeling--guessed that her marriage, after only three weeks' engagement, must have meant a complete upheavalof her entire life; and the very fact that he did not love her gave anadded gentleness to his intercourse with her; for he could not ridhimself of a sensation that somehow she had been cheated in thisbargain, had been cajoled into giving the pure gold of love in returnfor the counterfeit of mere liking. 

True, he did not repent his marriage. Rather it seemed to him that itmight turn out successful after all; and since they spent the daysexploring the coast, which was new to both of them, there was plenty tobe said, an abundance of interesting subjects to discuss. 

Only once--on the last night of their stay in Cornwall--was there theslightest suspicion of a shadow between them; and Owen blamed himselfentirely for the occurrence. 

It happened that Owen was suffering from a very severe headache--a notuncommon complaint since his accident--and the afternoon post broughthim the proofs of an article required for the next number of the_Bridge_. An urgent note from Barry accompanied the papers, begging foran early revision; and after dinner Owen sat down to run through thearticle in preparation for dispatch in the morning. 

But his brain refused to work. His eyes felt as though each eyeball wereaflame; and his forehead was contracted with the severe pain which hadracked him all day, so that consecutive thought was almost impossible. He tried, again and again, to do the work; but at length, so acute wasthe agony in his eyes, he threw aside the papers with a groan. 

Immediately Toni looked up from the magazine she was reading. 

"May I help you?" She put the question rather timidly, and by way ofanswer he tossed the bundle of proofs into her lap. 

"Thanks awfully, dear. I simply can't see out of my eyes--neuralgia, Iexpect. Do your best, won't you? You know how to read proof as well as Ido, now. "

"Yes. " So she did, for Barry had taught her thoroughly; and she hadapplied herself to his lessons with every fraction of her intelligence. 

What he had not taught her, however, was an extensive knowledge of themaster poets and their works; and Toni's ignorance betrayed herhopelessly. 

At the old-fashioned school she had attended, few poets were consideredfit for the girls' reading; Tennyson, of course, was included in thepupils' studies, and Shakespeare, carefully edited, was a standby; butof the works of Browning, Rossetti, Swinburne, Keats, Toni waslamentably ignorant. 

When, therefore, in the article before her she found a quotation fromone of Robert Browning's poems, followed almost immediately by a linefrom one of the poet's wife's writings, she concluded, hastily, that theprinters were at fault, and cheerfully amended the latter initials tothe one magic R. In the same way she confused Keats and Yeats; andfinished by ascribing to Christina Rossetti one of Dante Gabriel's mostimpassioned utterances; thus destroying whatever value the article mighthave had, as a critical appreciation of the various writers' work. 

Having completed her task Toni raised her eyes to look at her husband, and found him lying back in his chair watching her with a very kindlyglance. 

"Finished, little girl? That's good. I'll just initial it and send itback. " He took the sheets she handed him and raised his eyebrows at thenumerous corrections. "I say, they must be getting careless at theoffice to let all these slips go through!" He ran his eye over the page, more from force of habit than because he expected to find any morecorrections necessary; and suddenly Toni, watching, saw him frown. 

"I say, Toni, you've made a mistake. " He tried not to speak sharply, forafter all proof-reading is an art. "This line--'There may be Heaven, there must be Hell'--that's Robert Browning all right; but the nextquotation is from the Sonnets to the Portuguese. "

"Is it?" Toni did not understand. 

"Well, Mrs. Browning wrote those, you know. " He was busy repairingToni's mistake. "And the next is hers, too. And----" he was skimmingdown the page "--why, you little goose, it was Dante Rossetti who wrote'The Blessed Damosel. '"

"Was it? I thought her name was Christina. " Toni's voice faltered; forthough she did not yet realize the enormity of her offence, she knewthat Owen was annoyed by her stupidity. 

"_Her_ name? Why, of course _her_ name was Christina; but this happensto be his poem, you see. "

"His? Whose?" Toni was flustered, or she would never have betrayedherself so utterly. 

"Whose?" Owen, his nerves strained almost to breaking point by hisbodily pain, spoke irritably, and Toni shrank miserably into her chair. "Why, Toni, have you never heard of the poet Rossetti? Good Heavens, child, don't you ever open a book?"

She said nothing, though the tears welled slowly into her eyes; and Owenwent on reading, finding still further evidences of his wife's lack ofacquaintance with the giants of literature as he read. 

In an ordinary way he would have let her down gently. After all it is nocrime to confuse two poets of the same name; and to "correct" aquotation by transposing two words into a more ordinary sequence is nota very heinous offence; but to Owen, racked with pain, the whole affairwas an instance of the most flagrant ignorance, and he let fly one ortwo biting sarcasms as he bent over the papers, which reduced Toni to astate of trembling, impotent misery. 

To do him justice Owen repented as soon as he had spoken, and when hesaw how he had hurt her, he threw aside the proof-sheets and devotedhimself to making amends for his harshness. 

He succeeded finally in winning back something of her usual serenity;but to both the incident was oddly discomposing; to Toni because for thefirst time she saw the critic in the husband, and trembled to think howoften she must fall short of his high standard; to Owen because theaffair seemed to open up such vast tracts of ignorance in the woman whowas his wife, and showed, more clearly than ever before, the dividingline between intellect and ordinary shrewdness. 

For just one illuminating moment he saw Toni as she was; a pretty, winning, half-educated little girl, to whom the world of art andliterature was a sphere apart, its shibboleths mere meaningless babblein her ears, its greatest exponents but so many confusing names, divorced from any enlightening personalities. 

Where, he asked himself half desperately, was there any common meetingground for two beings so widely diverse as they, husband and wife thoughthey were? Surely they were as widely sundered as the poles. .. . 

And then the sight of Toni's face, her eyes filled with tears, herchildish mouth quivering, lighted a sudden flame in his heart whichconsumed, for the time being, all doubts and petty vexations. After all, she was only a child--and she loved him; and so he took her in his armsand kissed away the tears with a remorseful tenderness which might wellpass--with an uncritical being like Toni--for love. 

But Toni was not thinking of that dreadful episode on this brilliantJune morning. Rather she was trying to realize that she was the mistressof this beautiful place, that Greenriver, with its grounds, its flowers, its lofty rooms, was to be her home; and to the girl who had lived inWinter Road, Brixton, Greenriver was indeed a revelation. 

They had been home a week; and so far Owen had not left her for morethan a few hours, on the occasion of a business visit to London. Theweather had been superb; and they had spent several long afternoons onthe river, thereby missing, to Toni's great content, three or fourcallers who had come to see what manner of woman Owen Rose had married. That these calls must be returned Toni knew very well; but it must beconfessed she shivered at the prospect; more especially as Owen had toldher, laughingly, that she must not count upon his aid on those purelysocial occasions. 

As the thought of the terrible duty-calls flashed through her mind Tonislipped down from her perch on the balustrade and made her way down tothe towing path beneath. She often walked beside the river in thesequiet morning hours, alone unless her dog Jock, an Airedale terrier ofunimpeachable ancestry and cheerful disposition, was at hand toaccompany her. 

Jock had been presented to her by Barry as a wedding gift; and Toni, whohad never before been on an intimate footing with a dog, found hiscompanionship both delightful and stimulating. Although he was nearlytwo years old Jock was a puppy at heart. He did his best to comporthimself as a full-grown dog should do: but had lapses into babyhood, when a shoe carelessly left about seemed too tempting; or, after a muddywalk, a soft satin cushion gave him an invitation to repose which couldnot possibly be denied. 

He was a lovable creature, however, and a perfect gentleman as regardscats--a very desirable trait in an animal belonging to Toni, who lovedall cats and would certainly have quarrelled with any dog who waged warupon the furry tribe. 

To her satisfaction Jock came bounding over the terrace to follow her asshe stepped on to the towing path; and together they strolled by theriver in the fresh morning air, Toni gazing half-absently towards thedistant hills, Jock keeping one eye and ear anxiously cocked inanticipation of any unwary rat who should show himself upon theriver-bank. 

Although Willowhurst was comparatively far from town there were a goodmany visitors on the river during the summer months. There was a perfectreach for punting just here, and many people came down to occupy thebungalows built on the opposite bank to that on which Greenriver stood. To Owen these little summer dwellings were in the nature of an eyesore. Fond as he was of his own beautiful house he would have liked to keepthe neighbourhood free from this essentially modern phase of river-life;but to Toni the gay little bungalows had a charm of their own. They wereall specially spick and span just now, having been newly painted andgarnished with flowers for the season; and Toni looked across the riverwith frank interest at the Cot, the Dinky House, the Mascot, and therest of the tiny shanties. She liked the houseboats, too, with theirgaily-striped awnings, their hanging baskets filled with gaudy pinkgeraniums and bright lobelia. Their primly-curtained little windowsamused her; and in the evenings she would lure Owen out on to theterrace to look down the river to where the Chinese lanterns hung ontheir poles like globes of magic light against the darkening sky. 

Toni and Jock had strolled about a quarter of a mile down the path whenthey were brought sharply to a halt by the sound of a deep bark from theother side of the water; and looking across they found they were not theonly waking creatures in this apparently sleeping world. 

In one of the little gardens opposite to where they stood were a coupleof friends like themselves; but in this case the human being was a manin his shirt sleeves, and the canine was a singularly beautiful whitewolfhound, who stood, at the moment, barking defiance at the intruderson the opposite bank. 

Jock, whose natural pugnacity was always easily aroused, returned thecompliment with the most evident sincerity; but the Borzoi, having flungdown the gage of battle and asserted her dignity, retired gracefullyfrom the contest, and walking daintily up to her master rose and placedher slender paws on his shoulders, an action which said plainly thathonour was satisfied. 

The animal was so striking-looking, from her long, graceful head to herplumy tail, that Toni could not resist a second look; and the dog'smaster had a good view of the girl whom he guessed to be the youngmistress of Greenriver, the house which he had often admired as hepassed by in his boat during the summer days. 

As she stood, gazing almost childishly across the intervening water, shelooked barely more than a schoolgirl; and her short skirt and simplewhite blouse aided the illusion. It was only the sight of the coils ofblack hair which bound her head, and the gleam of the gold wedding-ringon her finger, which placed her definitely in the category of womanhood;and the man who watched her felt a strange sensation of something likepity for the girl launched so early on the sea of matrimony, a sea whoseperils he, of all men, had cause to dread. 

But suddenly Toni became aware of the indecorousness of her conduct. Itwas the height of discourtesy to stand staring; and with a blush shecalled Jock and turned hastily away to retrace her steps. 

The man and the dog watched her go; and only when she was nearly out ofsight did they turn back and re-enter the little white bungalow whichwas known locally as the Hope House. 

At breakfast Owen asked Toni kindly if she felt inclined for a day onthe river. 

"I thought we might take our lunch and go quite a long way, " he said. "I'm afraid this must be our last holiday jaunt for a little time. Ishall have to be busy after this. "

"Will you?" She looked a trifle wistful; and Owen was sorry for her. 

"Well, I daresay I can manage a day off now and then. To-morrow'sThursday, isn't it? I must be up in town then, and I'm afraid I shall belate home. There's a dinner I rather wanted to attend, but it would meana long evening alone for you. "

"I don't mind. " She smiled reassuringly. "I've got Jock to keep mecompany and there are plenty of people in the house. "

"Well, Andrews is a pretty sturdy young chap, and of course there arethree or four women. There's the telephone, too, you know, so you reallyneedn't be nervous--especially now, when the river is as full of trafficas Bond Street!"

"I'm not a bit nervous, " she said. "I . .. I was just wondering----"

She broke off, flushing, and Owen felt an unwonted curiosity as to hermeaning. 

"Well?" He spoke kindly, but Toni seemed unable to proceed. 

"I was thinking . .. I mean . .. " Suddenly impatient of her own cowardiceshe took her courage in both hands and spoke bravely. "I was wonderingwhether you would allow me to ask Fanny--my cousin--down for theafternoon. You see, if you are away----"

"Why, of course, dear!" Owen spoke the more heartily because he felt aslight compunction at the thought of her relations. "Ask your cousin byall means. You must remember that this is your house, Toni, and you neednot ask my leave to invite your friends. "

"Thank you. " She was looking down as she spoke, but her cheeks werescarlet. "I will ask her then . .. But . .. " suddenly her words came witha rush ". .. I know my people aren't like yours . .. I couldn't let themmeet your friends . .. I mean--I'll ask them when you are not at home, and then----"

"Don't be a goose, Toni!" Owen hoped his voice betrayed nothing. "Yourpeople are my people now, you know, and I don't want you to get anysilly ideas into your head at the start. "

She stretched out her hand impulsively and laid it on his arm. 

"Owen, you're too good to me. I know so well that we belong to differentworlds, but . .. If you mean that----"

"Of course I mean it. " He rose as he spoke and patted her shoulder. "Don't be a little silly--and now run away and write to your cousin atonce. If she can't come to-morrow, suggest Friday. "

"Oh, she couldn't come then, " returned Toni naďvely. "You see the shopcloses on Thursday afternoon, and it's Fanny's only free day. "

"I see. " Somehow the little explanation, with its picture of a differentlife from that to which he was accustomed, struck a chill to Owen'sheart; but he hid his discomfort cleverly and bade Toni write her letterwithout delay. 

 * * * * *

Miss Gibbs accepted the invitation joyfully; and on Thursday morningOwen went off to town, after bidding Toni keep her cousin to dinner ifpossible. 

"She can take the nine-fifteen to town, " he said. "I have the car, butif she can stay, telephone for a taxi from the station to be here atnine. You won't be lonely, Toni?"

"Not a bit!" Indeed she was thrilling with pleasure at the idea ofentertaining her cousin in her new home. "I've lots to see to. What apity Mrs. Blades is ill to-day. "

"Yes, her usual bronchitis, I suppose. She'll be all right in a day ortwo. " Owen was hunting for a paper as he spoke. "Confound it, where isthat manuscript, Toni? You know the one--that article on Alfred Noyes. "

"It's here. " Toni handed him the paper he required. 

"Thanks awfully. You're a first-rate little secretary, Toni! I guess weshall miss you at the office!"

He did not observe the rather wistful look which swept over her face atthe half-careless praise. At that moment Toni felt she would have askednothing better than to jump into the car and journey up to town withOwen to take her old place behind the typewriter in Owen's room. Shehated to see him leaving her, longed to beg him to stay; but somethingstronger than personal longing held her back. A wife, she told herself, must be a help, not a hindrance; and since Owen saw fit to leave her, tocarry on the work in which she had now no place, her duty, plainly, wasto remain at home and keep everything in her little world in order forhis return. 

Besides, it was a glorious day, the sun was shining, the flowers dancingin the breeze; and Fanny would be with her during the afternoon. It wasa day created for gladness, for rejoicing, and Toni, made wise by love, banished wistfulness from her eyes and returned Owen's kiss with a gayword of farewell. 

But she stood looking after him as the car whizzed down the avenue; andthe smile which touched her lips was just a little sad. 

CHAPTER IX

When Owen was safely gone Toni entered the house with a look ofdetermination on her face, and retreating to the little white-panelledroom known as the morning-room she rang the bell to summon Kate to herpresence. 

It was not Kate who answered the ring, however. In her stead cameMaggie, the rosy-faced housemaid, who had already fallen in love withher young mistress, and was ready to carry out any order which Mrs. Rosemight give. 

"Oh, it's you, Maggie?" Toni looked up from the paper on which she wasscribbling. "Where's Kate?"

It seemed Kate was busy, poulticing Mrs. Blades, who was suffering underone of her usual attacks of bronchitis, and she had sent Maggie, withapologies, in her stead. 

"Mrs. Blades is really ill? Had she better see a doctor?"

No, Maggie was empowered by Kate to say that a doctor's visit wasunnecessary. Mrs. Blades often had these attacks, and they knew justwhat to do; but she would not be able to attend to her duties for acouple of days at the least. 

In spite of herself Toni's face brightened. Not that she wished Mrs. Blades to suffer, but she knew quite well that the old housekeeper, forall her respectful ways, resented the arrival of a mistress of whom, forsome reason, she did not approve; and Toni felt rather glad that forto-day, at any rate, she could be in reality the mistress of the wholeestablishment. 

With the other servants she was on the best of terms. Whatever Mrs. Blades might think of Toni's social position previous to her marriageshe was sufficiently loyal to keep her doubts to herself; and Martha thecook, Kate the serious parlourmaid, and Andrews the young man-servant, one and all combined to make their new mistress feel at ease with herstaff. 

Maggie, to-day, was full of importance at being allowed to replace Kateto assist Toni in her preparation for the afternoon's visitor; and shelistened attentively to all that Toni had to say. 

"I want a really nice tea, Maggie!" Toni looked up from her list with aserious face. "Miss Gibbs has to catch an early train from town, andwon't have time for much lunch. " Even the unsophisticated Toni knewbetter than to mention the nature of Miss Gibbs' employment. "So I wanttea at four o'clock and it must be pretty--well, substantial. "

Maggie fully endorsed the suggestion, and waited to see what Mrs. Roseconsidered necessary for the meal. 

"Tea and hot cakes, of course. And that lovely plum cake Martha madefor . .. " Toni blushed, but went on bravely ". .. For our wedding-cake. And then--is it possible to get shrimps, Maggie?"

"Why, yes, ma'am--don't you remember cook's shrimp savoury for Sundaylunch? And you'd shrimp sauce with the fish last night. "

"Of course, so we had. Well, when the man calls from the fish shop, order some. You get them by the pint--or is it the pound?" said Toni, vaguely remembering her aunt's orders on the occasion of a tea-party. 

Maggie thought it was the pint; and in any case she would give the orderto the young man herself. 

"Very well. And then--what else, Maggie? I do want a nice tea. "

The little handmaiden eagerly racked her brain for some brilliant idea;and finally suggested that Cook was very fond of making "shape. "

"Shape? Oh, I see, " said Toni a trifle dubiously. "You mean ablanc-mange or a cream. But I don't think it would do for tea. "

Maggie thought, respectfully, that it would do fine. In her last placeher mistress always had a shape when company was coming to tea. But--suddenly her rosy face grew even more pink--perhaps she was wrong, and anyway Mrs. Rose knew best. 

Sorry for the girl's evident embarrassment Toni gave the order forthwithfor a cream; and then turned to the subject of dinner. 

"Miss Gibbs will stay to dinner, and we will have it at half-past seven. That gives us time to go on the river first; and the cab won't be heretill nine. "

"Cook's sent you a mennyoo, ma'am. " Maggie produced a somewhat crumpledpiece of paper. "She thought perhaps something of this sort would do. "

Toni ran her eye over the paper, and her brow cleared. 

"Soup, fish, sweetbread and green peas, chicken. .. . " she gave the paperback. "Yes, it will do beautifully, and I'm sure Miss Gibbs will likeMartha's trifle. Well, Maggie, that's all, I think. Have I forgottenanything?"

The two girls stared at one another for a moment, their faces quitesolemn with the effort of concentration. Then Toni relaxed and spokegaily. 

"No, that's all, I'm sure . .. Well, Maggie, what have you thought ofnow?"

"Please, ma'am, the flowers. "

"Yes, I'd forgotten! Good girl, Maggie! Well, get me the scissors and abasket, and then you might put the vases ready in the little room. "

Maggie flew to obey the commands, and Toni, to whom the idea of givingorders was still almost ludicrous, strolled to the window to await herreturn. 

The room overlooked the river, and on that account was a favourite withToni. It was reached by a short flight of stairs apart from the mainstaircase, and boasted a large casement window, built over the terracebelow, and giving the river an air of proximity which always delightedToni. 

To-day the water sparkled in the sunshine with a very cheerful effect;and as Toni looked a cream-white swan drifted by, the sun's lightturning its feathers into a kind of gilded snow. A punt passed slowlywith two occupants, one a girl in a white frock, lying lazily on a heapof blue-green cushions, her uncovered head protected from the sun by ascarlet parasol, the other a bronzed and fair-haired youth, who wieldedhis pole with an athletic grace purely Greek. 

Toni's eyes softened as the two glided by. Her own happiness was soimmense, her love for Owen had been so wonderfully, so completelysatisfied, that she wished all other girls to be as happy as she was;and although the two in the punt were only visible for a few moments shethought she could read in their faces the story of their mutualattraction. 

When Maggie returned Toni took the basket and went out into the garden. Gathering flowers was an occupation of which she never tired. Never, since her days on the hill-slope above Naples, had she been able toindulge her passionate love for flowers; and to the girl who had beenwont to regard sixpence spent on a branch of golden mimosa, or a handfulof the big pink carnations which seem indigenous to the London streets, as something of an extravagance, the delight of filling bowls and vaseswith unlimited supplies of the loveliest, freshest flowers could not beoverrated. 

To-day she cut more lavishly than usual in Fanny's honour, and when, just as the lunch gong sounded, she rested from her labours, the lovelyold house was a dream of beauty and colour and scent. 

Snapdragons, in every shade of yellow and pink and deep, rich rose, stood in tall jars, wherever there was a dark corner to be lighted up. Big blue bowls held masses of roses of every describable hue, whosefragrance scented all the house; and every available inch of space hadbeen utilized as a resting-place for one or more vases of the sweetest, gayest blooms imaginable. 

Even Toni was satisfied at last, and she hurried over her lunch in goodspirits. Just as she was rising from the table a thought struck her. 

"Kate, do you think we might have tea in here? You see--we ought to havea table, I think--and it wouldn't matter for once, would it?"

Kate, who had experienced sundry qualms at the idea of a feast ofshrimps in the charming, old-world drawing-room, gave a decided assent. 

"It would be much more suitable, ma'am. I could put a pretty lace clothon the table, and then with some flowers it would look quite nice. "

"Thank you, Kate. " Toni gave vent to a relieved sigh. "You and Maggieare really treasures in helping me. Oh--how is Mrs. Blades!"

Mrs. Blades was better; but Kate, who had a shrewd notion of the oldwoman's real opinion of her pretty mistress, was not ill-pleased toinform Toni that the bronchial attack from which she was suffering madeit impossible for her to supervise the household affairs for to-day atleast. 

"Well, you must look after things for me, Kate, " said Toni, smiling in afriendly fashion at the girl; and Kate, although she had lived in"smart" houses, and knew that shrimps and blanc-mange were not usuallymet with at tea, succumbed still more completely to that friendly littlesmile. 

"Why shouldn't she have her tea-party as she likes it?" she said toherself as she went out. "The master's away, and she's not likely to dothis sort of thing when he's about. " Kate, who was thirty-one, andexperienced in the ways of the world, was quite aware of the element ofawe in Toni's love for her husband--an element of which Toni herself wasas yet wholly unsuspicious. "And I've no doubt this young lady as iscoming down isn't used to great things. You can see as Mrs. Rose hasn'tlived with anyone partikler--but she's a real little lady in her ways, for all that, " concluded this authority on the ways of gentlefolk. 

 * * * * *

Punctually at three o'clock Miss Gibbs arrived; and was shown into thedrawing-room, where Toni awaited her coming. 

To tell the truth Miss Gibbs was a little awed by the unexpectedgrandeur of her surroundings; and not even the consciousness of her newlinen frock and elaborately-trimmed hat could give her quite her usualassurance. 

She followed Andrews meekly across the hall, hardly daring to lift hereyes; and when the man threw open the drawing-room door and ushered herin, Fanny unconsciously moderated her usual hearty footstep andendeavoured to make her entry as inconspicuous as possible. 

Toni, who had not heard the cab arrive, jumped up hastily from her lowchair and ran to meet her cousin, while Andrews discreetly withdrew andclosed the door. 

"Fanny! How glad I am to see you!" Toni hugged Miss Gibbsaffectionately. "I'd have come to meet you but I was so late with lunchthat I hadn't time. "

"I found a cab waiting for me, " said Fanny, returning her embrace. "Youwere a dear to send it, Toni. You're quite a way from the station, aren't you?"

"I suppose we are, " said Toni carelessly. "But how are you, Fan? AndAuntie--and Lu and all of them?"

"Mother's first-rate and longing to see you when you can get up to town. Everyone's all right, " said Fanny comfortably. "Lu's been in mischiefagain, though. She and some of the girls from her school played truantt'other day and went to see a County cricket-match. You know cricket'sthe craze this term, and they got their money stolen and couldn't gethome, and Lu didn't land up till ten o'clock at night!"

"You don't mean it! What did Auntie say?"

"She didn't say much then, 'cause Lu was cryin' and nearly dead withtramping for miles; but next day she got a jolly good whipping and wasshut up on bread and water all over Sunday. "

"Oh, poor Lu!" Toni felt very pitiful towards the hapless cricketenthusiast. "After all, Fan, you and I once ran away to see the BoatRace on our own!"

"Yes, and we got jolly well punished for it, too! I can remember Ma'sslipper to this day!"

"Well, you ought to be sorry for Lu!"

"Serve her right, " said Miss Gibbs with sisterly severity. "Cricket, indeed! What do girls want with cricket! Anyhow, she won't do it againin a hurry--Ma saw to that!"

"And how's Josh, Fan?" Toni saw that no sympathy was to be looked forfrom the culprit's sister. 

"A 1. I say, Toni, where's Mr. Rose?" Fanny, regaining some of her usualassurance, looked round her vaguely. 

"He has had to go up to town. But I thought you wouldn't mind, Fan. Iwant to show you the house and have a real good talk. "

"My! It _is_ a house and no mistake!" Fanny gazed about the beautifulroom with frank admiration. "I thought the man must be going wrong whenhe turned in here--and what lovely gardens you've got. "

"Yes, they are jolly, aren't they? Well, shall we go over the housebefore tea or after? It's very nearly four, and I said we'd have teaearly. "

"I'm glad of that. " Fanny beamed approval. "To tell you the truth, Toni, I hadn't time for much lunch. We're supposed to shut at one, you know, but of course we don't get off at once, and to-day everything wentwrong! At the last minute I upset a box of ribbons, and the spitefulthings all went and got unrolled, and then that odious littleJackson--you know, the shopwalker I told you about--came and slanged melike anything. "

"What a shame!" Toni had been one of the workers of the world toorecently to have lost sympathy with the grievances of those who work. "Iwish you could leave the old shop, Fanny. Why don't you and Josh getmarried?"

"Too soon. " Fanny was of a prudent nature. "We _must_ wait till Joshgets a rise, and I can't afford to leave the shop. You see, I must havea few clothes before I marry . .. By the way, Toni, what about yourclothes? You didn't get much when you married, did you?"

"No, but before we came here we went up to town and stayed at theRussell for two days and did a whole heap of shopping. " Toni stifled asigh at the thought of those long hours spent in shops. "You see Ididn't really know what to get, so Owen went, with me, and I got a lotof things ready-made, and was fitted for others, so I have quite atrousseau by now!"

"That skirt's well-cut, " said Miss Gibbs, surveying her cousincritically. "Blue serge always looks well--and that white blouse is goodthick silk. "

"I'm glad you like it. Owen likes me in these low collars, and they'recool. " Toni looked at the clock. "But come upstairs and take off yourhat and we'll have tea straight away. "

Nothing loth, Miss Gibbs agreed; and went into fresh raptures when shesaw Toni's bedroom. 

"My! What lovely furniture!" She went up to the toilet-table and beganto examine it. "And these silver brushes and things--are they allyours?"

"Yes. Owen gave them to me. "

"Well to be you, " commented Miss Gibbs briskly. "What a lovely longglass, too! Can't you see yourself properly just!"

She stood in front of the glass so long that Toni grew impatient. 

"Hurry up, Fan! I'm sure tea's ready and I'm dying for some. I hadn'tmuch lunch. "

Thus incited, Miss Gibbs laid aside the flowery hat she had beenadmiring, disclosing a much curled and waved _coiffure_, and togetherthe cousins ran downstairs, just as Andrews carried in the silvertea-pot and the hot cakes. 

Kate, true to her word, had made the best of the oval table. She hadlaid upon it the finest, laciest cloth she could find, and had placed inthe centre a tall jar of lilies, while here and there she had found roomfor small silver bowls of pink roses. The silver tea-tray, with its thinchina cups and saucers, stood proudly at the head of the table; and sofar nothing could have been more charming. 

But alas! Even Kate could not hide the eminent unsuitability of thefeast itself to its elegant surroundings. True, the bread and butter wasof wafer-like thinness, there were hot cakes of the crispest, finestvariety, and the plum-cake which was Martha's welcome to the bride wasof the richest, most tempting description. 

But side by side with those delicacies was a dish of shrimps, in alltheir native vulgarity; and further down, almost hidden in fact by theflowery centrepiece, was a glass dish containing a velvety white creamwhose real place should have been on the dinner-table. 

For a moment Toni's heart misgave her as she saw these things in theirblatancy; and she wished she had stuck to the usual tiny sandwicheswhich Martha sent up when she and Owen were alone. Then she remembered, gratefully, that Fanny was hungry, and common sense whispered that to agirl who had lunched lightly a sandwich was unsatisfying fare. 

As for Fanny, her spirits, momentarily damped by the sight of the silvertray, rose with a bound as she surveyed the table. 

"I say, Toni, what a spread! Shrimps, I declare! Well, I thought you'dhave been much too smart nowadays to think of them!"

"Nonsense!" Toni's depression vanished, and she laughed gaily. "I alwaysdid like shrimps--and why shouldn't I have them if I want them? Come andsit down, Fan--here, by me--and do make a good tea!"

Fanny needed no second bidding. Taking the seat indicated she leanedforward to examine the silver in the most open fashion. 

"I say, you've got some tiptop things and no mistake! That cloth issimply lovely--just look at the lace, as fine as fine!"

"It belonged to Owen's mother, " said Toni, passing her a cup of tea. "There are lots of things like that in the house. Now, Fanny, helpyourself--and pass the dish!"

Thus invited, Fanny did help herself; and presently both girls werehappily eating and talking, Fanny asking innumerable questions and Tonisatisfying her curiosity without entering into details. 

Suddenly Toni jumped up. 

"There's Jock at the door. You must see him, Fan--he's a darling, andI'm sure you'll love him!"

Almost before the door was properly open Jock hurled himselfreproachfully into the room, and flinging himself on to his mistress, inquired in the plainest dog-language why she had been so slow inanswering his summons. When she had apologized and received hisforgiveness, she introduced him to Miss Gibbs, who was won immediatelyby his courteous manner towards her and the friendliness in his nicebrown eyes. 

She cemented the acquaintance by offering him--timidly--a piece of cake;and instantly Jock threw dignity to the winds and begged, shamelessly, for further morsels; which being denied him caused him to barkvociferously and show off his few tricks in the hope of adequate reward. 

He was engaged in walking on his hind legs round the room, followingFanny, who was laughing excitedly and flourishing a piece of cake, whileToni clapped her hands and called out words of encouragement at the topof her voice, when a loud whirring sound on the gravel outside made bothgirls turn in the direction from which came the noise--just in time tosee a big grey car shoot by the window on its way to the front door. 

One glance was enough. 

"Good gracious, Fan! Visitors! What a bore!"

"Will they come in? Won't your man say you're out?" gasped Fanny, hastily dropping the bit of cake she held and pinning up a roll of hairwhich had come down in the game. 

"No--they saw us, " said Toni wildly. "I never said I wasn't at home--andanyway they'd hear us laughing!"

In a dead silence the two girls stood, waiting breathlessly to see whatwould happen; and in the sudden hush they heard the clang of the bigbell, and Andrews' speedy arrival in the hall. 

For one wild moment Toni thought of waylaying him with instructions tosend the visitors away. The next instant she realized that such a coursewas impossible, and waited helplessly for the next act of the drama. 

Andrews opened the door, and Toni heard a gentle, cultured voice ask ifMrs. Rose were at home. 

For a fraction of a second Andrews, who was young enough to be human, and had not yet become a machine, hesitated as though he would fain denyhis mistress to these invaders; but finally habit triumphed overhumanity and he replied stolidly in the affirmative. 

The next moment Toni, standing by the door, heard the rustle of skirtsand the firm step of a man, which sounds proceeded in the direction ofthe drawing-room; and with an agonized sign to her cousin Toni flew backto her seat behind the tea-tray just as the door opened to admitAndrews. 

The visitors, knowing themselves unknown, had provided the servant withcards; and these Andrews silently presented to his mistress, who tookthem with a shaking hand. 

"The Honourable Mrs. Anstey, Miss Olive Lynn, Mr. Barry Raymond----" Shebroke off with a sigh of relief. "Why, that's Owen's friend, Fanny. It'snot half so bad if he's there!"

She turned to the man. 

"Are they in the drawing-room, Andrews?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Oh!" For a second Toni hesitated, then common sense came to her rescue. "I will come, Andrews. Fanny, will you come with me?"

"Oh, do let me stay here, " begged Miss Gibbs, who was still endeavouringto make herself tidy. "I'm such a sight, playing with the dog--but yougo, Toni . .. And p'raps they won't stop long. "

Toni walked across the hall with lagging footsteps, preceded by thesympathetic Andrews, who threw open the door for her with acompassionate air, and then retired to break the news of this intrusionto the maids who were anxiously waiting his return. 

In the drawing-room were three people; and as Toni made her entrance, looking like a veritable schoolgirl in her blouse and short skirt, theoldest of the trio came forward with an expression of surprise on herbeautiful, faded face. 

"Mrs. Rose?" She shook hands. "I am so glad to find you at home. This ismy niece, Miss Lynn, who is staying with me--and Mr. Raymond I think youknow?"

Toni, feeling shyer than ever, shook hands with the pretty, grey-eyedgirl who approached at the sound of her name; and then turned, with afeeling of genuine relief, to Barry. 

"Mr. Raymond! I'm so pleased to see you--but I'm afraid Owen isn't athome!"

"I know that!" He laughed. "He is doing a little work to-day, for achange--and my call is really on you!"

"Well, won't you sit down?" Toni drew a low chair forward for Mrs. Anstey, who accepted it with a smile, while Olive Lynn sank down on thecouch, where, after a second's pause, Toni also took her seat. 

"I had hoped to see you before now, " said Mrs. Anstey, with a smilewhich won Toni's impressionable heart. "But I heard you had only justgot home, and thought I would give you a chance to settle down. "

"It is very good of you to come, " said Toni simply. "You live somedistance away, don't you? I think my husband pointed out your house tome when we were motoring one day. "

"Yes, nearly eight miles off--in the next village, in fact. But as youhave a motor I hope you'll come over and see me pretty often. " She gavethe invitation with a pleasant note of sincerity. "Just at present myniece is taking pity on me, but I am very lonely sometimes. "

"I will come, certainly, " said Toni, feeling curiously at ease with thischarming, elderly woman who, in spite of her aristocratic bearing, wasso delightfully kindly. "I haven't returned any calls yet--but myhusband tells me I must really start next week. "

"Do--and come to tea with me first of all. " Mrs. Anstey spoke quiteunconsciously, but something in her words aroused Toni to a sense of herown deficiencies as hostess. 

Tea--of course! Owen had told her that it was imperative to offer tea toafternoon visitors; and these people had motored eight miles over adusty road--they must be hot and thirsty and longing for tea. 

Yet--suddenly Toni felt it would be impossible to ask her guests toparticipate in the feast which she had spread for Fanny. The delicacieswhich had been prepared for her cousin took on a very uncouthappearance, and from the bottom of her heart Toni wished she had kept tothe usual _régime_ of dainty sandwiches and cakes. 

Yet she must offer tea--and quickly, before her visitors had time todoubt her hospitable intentions. She was so lost in thought that she letMrs. Anstey's remark go unanswered; and Barry, looking at her, wonderedwhat had made her suddenly colour hotly and look embarrassed andnervous. 

Truth to tell, Toni was hot all over. A more experienced hostess thanshe would have rung the bell and requested Andrews to bring tea; anddoubtless he would have done so without delay, thereby saving thesituation; but to Toni's mind the fact that tea was ready in the roomacross the hall quite precluded the possibility of having another teabrought for the latest visitors; besides which it flashed through hermind that these people must have seen the tea-table through the bigdining-room window. 

Olive Lynn, seeing her confusion, but not understanding its cause, triedgood-naturedly to put her at her ease. 

"I think I saw you on the river last night, didn't I? We were in acanoe, and you and Mr. Rose were punting. "

"Oh--yes!" Toni, still wrestling with her problem, answered rathervaguely. "We--we had taken tea with us and were late home. "

"That's so jolly, isn't it?" Olive smiled. "We often do that--take atea-basket and have a picnic. "

Tea again! Suddenly Toni grew desperate. Tea must be offered; there wasno way out of this dilemma save a frank acceptance of the situation; andwith a sinking heart Toni took the plunge. 

"I . .. We were just having tea, my cousin and I, " she said abruptly. "Will you . .. Will you come and have some? I'm sure you must be thirstyafter your drive. "

Mrs. Anstey, with a look at her niece, accepted courteously. It was ahot day and the roads were dusty, and in a house like Greenriver oneneed not be afraid of putting one's hostess out by accepting a cup oftea. 

"Thank you. A cup of tea would be very refreshing--I'm sure Olive thinksso, don't you, dear?"

"Oh, I'm always ready for tea, " replied the girl, laughing, "andmotoring does make one thirsty, doesn't it, Mrs. Rose?"

"Will you come, then?" Toni had risen, and now moved, feeling cold withnervousness, towards the door. "We . .. We are having tea in thedining-room to-day. "'

Barry opened the door as she spoke; and together the little partycrossed the hall to the dining-room. Andrews was hovering about; and ashe saw his mistress leading her guests he slipped away in search offresh cups and a supply of hot tea. 

Inside the dining-room Miss Gibbs, having reduced her appearance tosomething like order, was sitting rather apprehensively in her place;and as the door opened to admit the quartette she rose and stood waitingnervously for Toni's introductions. 

These were soon made. Mrs. Anstey and Olive shook hands with Fanny, eachof them wondering in her mind at the relationship between her pretty, shy hostess and this florid, rather overdressed young woman; butconvention mercifully intervened to hide their wonder; and Fanny couldfind no fault with their courteous greetings. 

With Barry it was quite impossible to feel ill at ease; and he shookhands so nicely, making a remark about Jock as he did so, that Fannyfelt suddenly comfortable again. 

The guests, in response to Toni's invitation, seated themselves; Olivetaking a chair by Fanny's side, while Mrs. Anstey sat next to herhostess, and Barry appropriated a stool beside the elder woman. 

Andrews entering with fresh supplies, Toni provided her visitors withtea, losing her first nervousness as she did so; and for a moment itseemed as though the little party would be a success after all. 

Mrs. Anstey had just accepted a hot cake, and Olive was begging prettilyfor another lump of sugar, when Jock, who had been sitting quietlybeside his mistress, suddenly rose and rushed madly over to the window, uttering a succession of shrill barks as he did so. 

Everyone glanced at the window to see what had disturbed him; and there, on the gravel outside, stood two ladies, evidently a little uncertain ofthe Airedale's intentions. 

"I think those are some more visitors, Mrs. Rose!" Barry gave her aquizzical look. "It never rains but it pours! Shall I . .. Er . .. Jockseems a little anxious to send the visitors away!"

Luckily the window was raised a good height from the ground; and Jockwas obliged to content himself with putting his paws on the window-seatand barking still more fiercely at the figures without. 

Presently, however, the two ladies appeared to regain the courage theyhad momentarily lost; and vanished from sight in the direction of thefront door; which was shortly opened by Andrews, who had evidently beenlurking in the hall listening to Jock's protestations. 

It is possible that the man, who was really little more than a boy, losthis head; or perhaps he was infected by the spirit of nervousness whichhad gripped Toni earlier in the afternoon. At any rate, whatever theexcuse, he made no pretence of showing the new-comers into thedrawing-room, but opened the dining-room door and ushered them straightinto the presence of his mistress; after which he closed the door andleaned against the wall, aghast at his own stupidity. 

To make matters worse, he had announced the ladies in so indistinct avoice that Toni had not the faintest notion who her visitors were; andfor a second they stared helplessly at one another, while Jock, who hadconceived a violent dislike for these latest comers, barked loudly andunmercifully throughout. 

At last, however, just as Toni mustered up courage to shake hands, Mrs. Anstey came to the rescue. 

"Why, Lady Martin, I had no idea you were home again. You have come towelcome Mrs. Rose, I suppose. My dear"--to Toni--"Lady Martin is yournearest neighbour--really near, I mean; only a mile away. "

"Less by the fields. " Lady Martin spoke magisterially. "And this fineweather tempted us to walk, although both the cars were standing idle inthe garage. "

Having thus established her position as the owner of two cars, LadyMartin brought forward her daughter and presented her to Toni, whoreceived an instant impression of size, teeth and volubility as MissMartin shook hands and expressed her pleasure at finding Mrs. Rose athome. 

The next thing to do was obviously to provide chairs for the guests, andthis Toni did, with the help of Barry, who appeared to be on fairlyfriendly terms with the two ladies; and once again Toni turned herattention to filling teacups. 

Fanny, who had been somewhat overlooked during the last strenuousmoments, was relieved to hear herself addressed in a friendly tone byMiss Lynn, who felt sorry for the girl, so obviously ill-at-ease; and inreturn for the kindly attention Fanny eagerly handed Olive the dish ofshrimps with an invitation to "try some. "

Olive Lynn, who had possibly never met these small creatures in theirnative armour before, hesitated, casting a look at Barry at the samemoment; but he was engaged in handing Lady Martin some bread and butter;and Olive's appeal went unanswered. 

Taking Miss Lynn's silence for consent, and being really anxious to helpToni by making her guests eat a good tea, Fanny eagerly piled herneighbour's plate with shrimps; and at that moment Lady Martin firstdiscovered what plebeian dishes the table held. 

Ignoring Barry and his bread and butter, she put up her lorgnette anddeliberately scrutinized the heap of pink shrimps which Fanny, pleasedwith her success, was just pushing across to Miss Martin. For a secondher ladyship was speechless; then, as her daughter turned a haughtystare upon the officious commoner, Lady Martin spoke. 

"I think, Lucretia, you had better leave those--er--shellfish alone. Iunderstand there is always a danger of ptomaine poisoning with suchthings. "

Toni dropped a lump of sugar with a clatter on the tray and turnedscarlet. Lady Martin's tone was so deliberately offensive, her manner sodisagreeable, that Toni felt like a chidden schoolgirl; and again theenormity of her social mistake swept over her, rendering her quiteincapable of making any reply to the attack. 

But rescue was at hand. Barry, who from the first had felt a chivalrousinterest in his friend's wife, had seen the colour sweep into her face, and had determined that the Martins, mother and daughter, should notexercise their well-known prerogative of snubbing any woman who did notboast a title. 

It is true that Lady Martin was the wife of a soap manufacturer, knighted for services to his party; and both sprang from a very humbleclass; but what they lacked in breeding they made up for in arrogance;and Lady Martin had early determined that if she wished to become apower in the neighbourhood she must assert herself on every occasion. Also, she had intended to patronize the young mistress of Greenriver;and to find Mrs. Anstey, the only person in the district of whom shestood in awe, here before her had disturbed her mean little soul. 

Barry, quick as a woman in some matters, read her mind accurately, andimmediately ranged himself on the side of his embarrassed hostess. 

"Are those shrimps, Mrs. Rose? And you never asked me to have any!"

He flashed a laughing glance at her, and drew the dish towards him, resolved that he at least would not shirk his duty. 

"I . .. I'm sorry . .. I forgot, " said Toni lamely. "But . .. Please don'thave any if you'd rather not. "

"It seems hardly the hour for these--delicacies, " said Lady Martin, waving haughtily aside the dish Barry offered her mischievously. "Insauce--or _pâtés_--yes . .. But now--no!"

"Oh, you're making quite a mistake, " said Barry coolly, helping himselfas he spoke. "They are delicious with bread and butter. Olive, you'vegot some? That's right. Mrs. Anstey, can't I persuade you to try a few?"

Mrs. Anstey, thoroughly understanding the look of appeal which Barry'slaughing eyes held, smiled very kindly. 

"My dear boy, I never eat much tea, as you know--but still--if you'llprepare me one or two . .. They really look so tempting. .. . "

To her dying day Lady Martin would never forget that afternoon. Theresat Mrs. Anstey, whom everyone knew to be related to half the "good"families of England, eating shrimps, shelled for her by Barry, with anair of enjoyment which was in itself an offence. There, too, was MissLynn, niece to an earl, doing likewise, being assisted in the mysteriesof divorcing the creatures from their shells by the blowsy, florid youngwoman beside her, with whom she was soon on excellent terms. And there, also, was Barry Raymond, a young man for whom everyone had a good word, laughing and joking with his hostess as though they were old friends, while that same hostess lost her frightened look beneath his genialityand did the honours of the tea-tray very prettily. 

Only Lady Martin and her daughter were out of it; and when she foundthat her cold looks and biting speeches made no impression onanyone--for even Fanny was at ease now with these delightful people--herladyship could bear it no longer. 

Rising abruptly, and cutting short a sentence of Toni's as though sheheard nothing, Lady Martin called her daughter to her side. 

"I think, Lucretia, if you have finished your tea"--both ladies had lefttheir cups untouched--"we must tear ourselves away. We promised to lookin at the Vicarage, and you know we are dining with the Batty-Brownsto-night!"

Having thus made it clear that she was in much social demand, LadyMartin advanced upon her hostess and held out her hand aggressively. 

"Good-bye, Mrs. Rose. So glad to have seen you. I am always at home onWednesdays in the summer. "

Toni shook hands quietly, and Miss Martin followed suit with a limphandshake; after which the two ladies took what was intended to be agushing farewell of the other guests, ignoring Fanny as though she werenot present. 

Andrews was in waiting to show the ladies out; and when, a moment later, they swept by the window, their high-heeled shoes crunching the gravelsternly, Barry heaved a sigh of relief. 

"I don't know how it is, but Lady Martin always gives me the creeps. Mrs. Rose, is it too late to beg another cup of tea? I assure you Ireally want it, to buck me up. "

Toni, who was very pale, filled his cup with rather a trembling hand, and Mrs. Anstey saw that the woman's insolence had unnerved her. 

Appearing to notice nothing, she began to make conversation, discoursinggently on various unimportant topics until Toni grew more like herself;and when at length Mrs. Anstey rose to go she had completely won Toni'sgrateful heart. 

Toni took leave of her visitors regretfully, and readily promised toreturn the visit as soon as possible; and then she and Fanny accompaniedthem to the door to see them comfortably settled in the big grey car. 

Barry was driving, Olive sitting beside him; and the girl turned andwaved a kindly hand as the car began to glide down the avenue in theafternoon sunshine. 

"My! Isn't she pretty!" Miss Gibbs' admiration was sincere. "And thatblue bonnet of hers was a dream--must have cost pounds!"

"I think Mrs. Anstey is beautiful, " said Toni, rather dreamily, gazingafter the car. "I don't wonder Miss Lynn is so devoted to her. She isjust my ideal of a lady. "

"Better than that other stuck-up cat, " said Fanny rather viciously. "Andas for that maypole of a daughter, she's nothing but a gawk. "

"Oh, don't let's go in there!" Toni laid a hand on her cousin's arm asFanny turned towards the dining-room. "I don't want to see the tea-tableany more! Fan, wasn't it _horrible_ when they came first?"

"Well, they were a bit sticky, " said Fanny frankly. "But nobody seemedto care! Mr. Raymond was just making game of them all the time. "

"Well, don't let's think of them, " said Toni, shaking herself as thoughfreeing her shoulders from an incubus. "We'll go on the river for anhour, Fan, and then you shall see the house. "

The programme was carried out successfully, and beneath Fanny'saffectionate chatter Toni regained the spirits she had lost. She tookher cousin on the river, returning in time to see the old house beforethe summer darkness fell; and after a very satisfactory little dinnerMiss Gibbs departed, highly pleased with her entertainment. 

Owen was not to be home till nearly midnight, and Toni decided not tosit up. Indeed, she was tired, and it was barely ten o'clock when shewent upstairs to bed. Something was troubling her, too; and as shewalked slowly down the long gallery, lighted only by the Ten LittleLadies, she was asking herself a question which, in spite of itshumorous form, held a hint of tragedy. 

"Shall I have to tell Owen everything--how rude she was and what anidiot I felt? Must I really tell him about--about the _shrimps_?"

She paused, looking about her as though seeking an answer to herquestion, which held indeed a significance which she dimly understood. 

But the Ten Little Ladies had no reply to give her; and with a sigh Tonipassed on and entered her own room in silence. 

CHAPTER X

Fairly late that night Barry Raymond jumped off his motorcycle at thegate of the bungalow known locally as the Hope House. It was a perfectJune night, and as he unlatched the gate Barry heard a nightingalesinging its love-song to the moon, the deliciously pure notes ringingacross the river with a fascinating, almost unearthly, effect. 

The garden of the bungalow was full of sleeping flowers, and theirfragrance stole gently out like a tender welcome to Barry as he strodeup the path between their ranks, pale-coloured in the moonlight, thoughfull of rich, glowing colour beneath the sun. 

Another welcome greeted him in a moment. There was a low, deep-tonedbark, a white streak of something advancing in a hurtling flash, andthen, as the great Borzoi discovered the visitor to be a friend, shedropped into a welcoming march, waving her plumy tail the while. 

"Halloa, Olga, old girl! Where's your boss?"

He was not far off, having been warned of the approach of his friend, and in another moment the two men were shaking hands cordially. 

"By Jove, Barry, it's good to see you again!" There was no mistaking thepleasure in the tone. "I thought you'd be looking me up--someone told meyou were staying down here. "

"Yes--only for three days, worse luck. I'm with the Ansteys--you knowMiss Lynn is Mrs. Anstey's niece, and she is there too. "

"I see. Well, come in and have a peg. " He led the way hospitably throughthe green door into the bungalow, and a minute later the two were seatedcosily in the little living-room, which looked oddly attractive in thelamplight. 

Olga, the wolfhound, followed them in as a matter of course, and whenher master had mixed drinks for himself and his visitor, and had takenhis seat, she lay down beside him, her long nose resting on her paws, while she blinked sleepily in the mellow light. 

"Well, Barry, how goes the world? Cheerily, eh?"

"With me? Yes. " He took a pull at his glass, "I'm A 1, and so is Olive. "

"Work going ahead? I hear the _Bridge_ is making its way. "

"Rather!" He spoke enthusiastically. "The next number will be out in afew days, and it's better than ever. "

"Good! Of course Rose is an excellent man for the job. If he can't makeit go, no one can. By the way, he's come to live down here, as I daresayyou know. "

"Yes. " Barry spoke slowly, and lighted a cigarette rather thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, Jim, that's partly why I've come to see you atthis unholy hour. "

"Better now than never!" said his host genially. "But I don't think Iquite understand you. "

"No. " For a moment Barry said nothing more, and the other man looked athim a little oddly. 

He himself was worth looking at, in spite of the shabbiness whichbetrayed either a bachelor habit of mind, or a lofty disdain for thetrappings of life. A man of about forty-one, his face was a curiousmixture of youth and age, of experience and of idealism. His big, brighteyes and curving mouth betokened enthusiasm, fire, a kindly philosophy;while the lines upon his forehead and the grey streaks in his abundanthair seemed to speak of deeper things. Life had indeed graven with itschisel lines and marks ineffaceable. It was the face of one who hadsuffered deeply, who had passed through more than one saddeningexperience. In repose one would have said the man was serious, grave toa fault; but when he smiled, it was the face of youth--ardent, eager, irresponsible--that the beholder saw before him. 

It was a queer, baffling, contradictory face altogether. Only one thingabout it was certain, and that was written so plainly thereon that evena child might read. 

It was a face one could trust. Whatever might be the nature of thetragic experience which had whitened the crisp locks and drawn the heavylines on the broad brow, there was something so gentle, sostraightforward, so kindly about the whole man that none could doubt hissincerity, his trustworthiness. And side by side with the lines drawn bysorrow there were other lines betokening laughter, those fine lines atthe corners of the eyes which are born from mirth, and even though theytake away from youth's first unlined smoothness, give value andperspective to the countenance. 

For the rest, he was fairly tall, though he stooped somewhat; and hewalked always with a quick, impetuous step, until such times as memory, or some other quality, came to life, and gave a queer, dragging effectto his usually swift tread. 

"Well?" It was the host who spoke, and Barry recalled his scatteredthoughts with an effort and remembered the cause on which he wasenlisted. 

"Well, it's about Rose's wife that I want to speak to you. " Barry lookedsearchingly at his friend, and reading in the bright eyes nothing of thecheap cynicism with which some men might have greeted the announcement, he went on quickly. "The fact is, she wants someone to give her ahelping hand. "

"Someone--apart from her husband?"

"Yes. You see, she's only a kid and a jolly pretty one. Looks like aschoolgirl----?"

"Stay a moment. " Herrick laid down his pipe. "Is Mrs. Rose a little darkgirl, with very bright eyes and a lot of black hair?"

"That's she. You've met her, then?"

"Well, not exactly. Fact is, I have seen a young woman answering to thatdescription wandering on the towing-path early in the morning once ortwice; and I was a little puzzled to know who she might be. "

"Well, that's Mrs. Rose. Now the fact is"--Barry grew red suddenly as herealized that his interference was quite unauthorized--"I think shewants a friend, someone to look after her a bit. "

"Why? Is she . .. Er . .. What _is_ she?"

"She is very young. " Barry spoke deliberately now, having made up hismind to proceed. "And although she is a perfect little lady in herway"--thus unconsciously endorsing Kate's verdict--"she has never beenused to the sort of life she will have to lead down here. To tell thetruth--I know it's safe with you, Jim--she was our typist in the officebefore her marriage. "

"I see. And Rose fell in love with her?"

"Y . .. Yes. " Even to Herrick, Barry could not give away the secret ofOwen's proposal. "Anyway, he married her, and brought her here; andto-day I was witness to a curious little scene in her house. "

"I'm all attention, Barry. "

"Well, Rose is away for the day, and Mrs. Rose invited a girl-cousindown for the afternoon; and to do honour to her, I imagine, she hadprovided a sumptuous tea, including shrimps and one of those wobblywhite things that you get at lunch. "

"I see. Well?"

"Well, we--Mrs. Anstey, Olive and I--chose to pay a call to-day; andwhen, after a little hesitation, Mrs. Rose asked us to have some tea, wewere taken into the dining-room, where these festal delicacies were laidout. "

"And then?"

"Well, it would have been all right--Mrs. Anstey is a dear, and Olive ofcourse is a ripper--and we'd have had a very jolly little party, butunfortunately in the middle of it who should arrive but Lady Martin andthat terrible daughter of hers. "

"Lady Martin of soap fame?"

"The same. Well, you know what an utter snob the woman is. In twominutes she had Toni--Mrs. Rose--reduced to a jelly--simply by sneeringat everything. "

"Including the--shrimps?"

"Yes. You know shrimps are--well--a bit _vulgar_, aren't they?"

For a second there was silence. Then Herrick stretched out his hand forhis pipe and spoke slowly in the intervals of filling the bowl. 

"There was once, if my memory serves me rightly, an Apostle of the nameof Peter who chose to consider some of the creatures made by his ownMaker in the light of vulgarians; and a sheetful of specimens descendedon Peter's head to warn him against the folly of finding any of God'screations common or unclean. Of course we've no proof that shrimps wereincluded----"

"I say, Jim, don't rag!" Barry threw away his cigarette ratherimpatiently. "I'm in earnest--oh, I know it sounds beastly snobbish, butstill, shrimps at tea----"

"Are unusual, though really, if you try them, first-rate. " Herrick hadfilled his pipe, and now took up the match-box. "Seriously, Barry, Iknow what you mean. So long as we have false standards of gentility Isuppose the sight of a shrimp in conjunction with the tea-pot will causeus to shrivel up. But I'll guarantee that neither Mrs. Anstey nor MissLynn turned a hair at the sight. "

"Rather not! They ate them as if they really liked them--and if thatwasn't a snub to the awful Martin woman--well, she went, anyway, drivenaway by our combined vulgarity, I suppose, and we had quite a decenttime when she had gone. "

"Well? If Lady Martin was driven from the field, and you were left thevictors, what's the trouble?"

"The trouble is this. Lady Martin, being a spiteful woman, and knowingperfectly well that Mrs. Anstey meant to teach her a lesson, will loseno opportunity of spreading the story abroad; and in time it is certainto come to Rose's ears. "

"Ah!" He spoke thoughtfully. "That is it, is it? And Mr. Rosewill--er--resent the tale?"

"You see it's this way. " Barry gave way to the impulse to confide in hisfriend, to whom all his boyish confidences had been given. "Rose is areal good sort, and wouldn't for the world let Toni suspect that heknows he's married beneath him, as the world calls it. "

"The world? Ah!" There was a light scorn in the tone. 

"Oh, I know--we both know it's all rot, that sort of thing. But still, as the world goes, one has to remember it; and somehow, although Rose isgenuinely fond of his wife, I doubt whether his love would standmuch--well, ridicule. "

"Ah! And I suppose the child did make herself rather ridiculous in herattempts to welcome a cousin to whom she is doubtless attached. "

"It isn't only that. " Having once begun, Barry unburdened himself stillfurther. "You know, although I admire Mrs. Rose immensely, and she's aripping kid really, I'm not a bit sure that the marriage will be asuccess. "

"Why not, Barry?"

"Well, they're unsuited to one another in heaps of ways. Toni is, as Isay, a dear little girl, but she's only half-educated, and not in theleast intellectual. Sharp in her way--the way of a quick-wittedwoman--shrewd, and no fool. But you know Rose is rather an exceptionalfellow. "

"So I have always understood. "

"He's clever, you know--and deep, too. Not one of those fellows who arealways showing off, but really brilliant; and it's rather a dangerousthing for a shallow woman to marry a man of that sort. "

"It's often done, Barry, " said the other man quietly. 

"Oh, I know, but that doesn't make it any safer. Toni is an out-and-outgood sort, as straight as a die, and a merry, light-hearted little thinginto the bargain; but she's bound to turn out a disappointment to herhusband all the same. "

"I don't see why, " said Herrick after a moment's pause. "Lots of clevermen marry feather-headed women and manage to get along all right. "

"Yes, but Owen's not that sort. He's a fellow who will want his wife tobe a companion, a real comrade, able to go forward side by side withhim, understand his aims, sympathize with his ideals and so on; and thisgirl can't do it. "

"But why are you so sure she can't, my boy? Probably she is verydifferent when alone with her husband. All women, as well as men, havetwo soul-sides, you know--'one to face the world with'--the other----"

"Oh, that's Browning's view, of course, but then he was an idealist!"Barry spoke rather impatiently. "No, Jim, there's not much hope of that. I've made a study of the girl--I don't mind telling you I did my best toprevent Rose marrying her--and I'm perfectly certain that as far asanything beyond the merest good-fellowship goes, Rose might just as wellhave married a Persian kitten. "

"Yet she is fond of him--in her way?"

"Very, I should say; but even then there's an element of something whichshouldn't exist between husband and wife. There is a sort of quiteunconscious patronage on Rose's side which matches a pretty gratitude onhers; and I have a horrible fear that if ever he found her wanting--andshowed her so--she would break her heart. "

"Oh! Then you don't deny her a heart?"

"Good Lord, no! What I do deny her is--well, I don't quite know. Is itbrain, or soul, or what?"

"You take an interest in this girl, Barry. Is it possible you are goingto try to supply this deficiency of brain, or soul, or whatever it is?"

Barry laughed rather defiantly. 

"Oh, I know you think I'm a fool for my pains! Yes, that's just what Ido want to do. I want to wake the girl up, to make her use herintellect, fit herself to be Owen's companion. I hate to think of theirmarriage turning out a failure--Owen disappointed in her, feelingaggrieved, perhaps, at her inability to go forward with him, while shein her turn feels impatient with him for expecting her to be somethingshe isn't--and that he ought never to have expected her to be!"

"Wait a moment, Barry. " Herrick looked at him squarely. "Isn't theresomething behind all this? Didn't I hear a rumour that some woman hadjilted Rose--thrown him over for a richer man, or something of thesort?"

"Well"--Barry bit his lip--"since you know so much--yes. "

"And possibly this marriage was in the nature of a reprisal? Intended toshow the jilting lady that--to put it plainly--there were still goodfish in the sea?"

"Yes--in a way it was. "

"Ah! Now I understand. And you, having doubtless been forced into theposition of an accessory before the fact, are anxious that as littleharm as possible shall be done to either party?"

"Yes--but principally to the girl. "

"Of course, seeing that she was probably unconscious of the reasonbehind the match. Well, it seems hard that she should have been used asa catspaw, doesn't it?"

"Oh, it wasn't as bad as that. Rose really liked the girl----"

"In spite of her want of--soul?"

"Yes. And I thought, " said Barry eagerly, "that if you and I, and one ortwo more--Olive, for instance--could give her a helping hand now andthen, show her how to make the best of herself and so on, things mightturn out all right. "

"Ah, Barry!" Herrick looked at him with a half-humorous, half-sad smile. "You're very young--and youth is always--or should be--courageous. Doyou really think that I, or you, or even Miss Lynn, can alter by afraction the destiny marked out for that pretty child across the riverthere?"

"Destiny--no, perhaps not, " said Barry, taken aback by the big word. "But we might help her--help her to find herself, as the Ibsenites callit--realize her soul, and all the rest of it. The soul's _there_, allright, but somehow it seems to be hidden, undeveloped, or something ofthe sort. "

For a second the older man said nothing, though his square white teethclenched themselves on the stem of his pipe. Then, removing the latter, he said slowly:

"Do you remember what Browning says, Barry?

 'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls And matter enough to save one's own!'

Well, don't you agree with him--and me--that one's own soul takes a vastdeal of salvation?"

"Yes, of course--but still--I thought you would be ready to help. .. . "

His accent of dejection touched the other man's heart. 

"Come, don't look so disappointed. Of course I'll help, as much as Ican! It ought to be an interesting task, anyway, helping a woman to findher soul. And if I can help her in any way, I will. "

"Good! But how?" He wanted to clinch the matter. 

"Well, I suppose the first thing to do is to make the lady'sacquaintance. I know Rose, slightly, and a call will no doubt beconsidered neighbourly. And if I can do anything for the child, you maydepend on me to do it. "

"You're a brick, Jim!" In the midst of his relief Barry remembered thehour and rose hastily. "Well, I must be off, or the house will be shutup. Good-night, old chap. I'm no end obliged to you. I knew you wouldhelp, if anyone would. "

He had turned towards the door when a thought struck him and he turnedback rather awkwardly. 

"I say, Jim"--he was looking down at the floor as he spoke--"I hadn'tforgotten, but I didn't like to say much. How . .. How is--she?"

"My wife, you mean?" Herrick's smile was bitter. "She is pretty well, Ibelieve. They say her health has improved lately. "

"I'm glad. And--forgive me if I'm tactless, Jim, but when do you expecther back?"

"When does she come out?" All the youth had died away from his face, leaving it desperately tired and sad. "Some time in the autumn, October, I believe. The time isn't really up quite so soon, but there's someremission for good conduct, I understand, which shortens the sentence. "

"Have you seen her lately?"

"No. She refused to see me last time, and I shall not trouble heragain. "

"I see. " Barry fidgeted from one foot to the other, then made a suddengrab at his friend's hand. "Well, good-bye, Jim. Ever so many thanks forpromising to help the kid. You can do lots for her if you will, and I dowant the marriage to be a success. "

"You've come to a queer person to help you, Barry, " said the other witha twisted smile. "My own marriage has been so wonderfully successful, hasn't it? But there, don't let's talk about it now. How are you goinghome? Motor? Ah, all right. Then Olga and I will come and see you safelyoff the premises. "

He had regained his former kindly manner, and bade the boy good-nightwith all his accustomed heartiness; but as Barry turned for a last lookand saw the stooping figure return through the gate, accompanied by thegraceful Borzoi, a fury of rage gripped his generous young heart. 

"Damn that woman--oh, _damn_ her!" He said the words wildly to himselfas he spun down the moonlit road between the fragrant hedges. "She'sruined his life, and will go on doing it as long as they live! October, he said. Well, there's time to give poor little Toni a helping handbefore then!"

 * * * * *

But in the quiet bungalow behind him Jim Herrick sat alone until theshort summer night had given way to the glories of the dawn. And in hisface, as he gazed before him, seeing, perhaps the troubled past, perhapsthe darkened future, there was now no trace of youth, only a great andweary disillusionment. 

CHAPTER XI

After all, Jim Herrick's introduction to Mrs. Rose came about in anunexpected fashion. 

Although he had only seen her two or three times, Herrick felt a decidedinterest in Rose's young wife. From what Barry had told him he concludedthat there were breakers ahead for the young couple; and since his ownmatrimonial misfortunes had made him very pitiful, he determined to tryto hold out a helping hand to the girl should the occasion arise. 

The occasion arose, indeed, almost before he expected it; but luckilyHerrick was a man of action and grappled with the opportunity thuspresented. 

One sunny afternoon he was returning from a pull up the river in hisskiff, when he saw a punt gliding towards him, the pole manipulated, rather unskilfully, it must be confessed, by the girl of whom histhoughts had been full; and he stayed in his mooring to watch her pass. 

To Toni the guiding of a punt was so serious a matter that she had noeyes for anything else, and she never even saw the man in the boat. Theriver took rather a curve here, and Toni found it a little difficult tonegotiate the bend. Becoming somewhat flurried, she directed her puntinto the middle of the stream, where it hung for a moment as thoughundecided whether or no to swing round in the disconcerting mannerpeculiar to such craft; but Toni, becoming impatient, put fresh vigourinto her task, and sent the punt triumphantly forward with a masterfulpush. 

Her triumph was, however, short-lived. With the treacherous suddennesswhich invariably marks this catastrophe her pole snapped as she drove itdownwards; the punt glided away immediately, and Toni, clingingdesperately to the broken pole, went down with it into the river itself. 

With an exclamation Herrick sculled his boat strongly to the spot whereshe had gone down, reaching it just as she came to the surface, gaspingand spluttering, and with an expression of wild terror in her face. 

He guessed that she could not swim, and called out to her reassuringly. 

"You're all right--hang on to my boat, and I'll get you out!"

She heard him, even in the midst of her terror, and made a frantic grabat the side of the boat, only to miss by inches and go down again withan involuntary cry. 

Hastily shipping his oars, Herrick bent over the boat, causing it toheel to one side rather dangerously; and when next Toni came to thesurface he gripped her strongly by the shoulder, bidding her keep quitestill, and then lifted her, by sheer force of muscle, into the boat, where she collapsed in a dripping little heap at his feet. 

"That's all right!" He seized the oars and with a dozen vigorous strokespropelled the boat back to the landing-place, where he proceeded to tieher up, and then turned his attention to his passenger. 

"Hard luck, Mrs. Rose, " he said cheerily. "But there's no harm done, isthere? Now you must come into the house and let me find you some drythings to put on. Don't delay--the punt will be rescued somewhere, I'veno doubt, and you really must get out of those wet garments. "

Shivering, dripping, and feeling more than half inclined to cry, Tonilet him help her out of the boat; and seeing that she was reallysuffering from shock Herrick put his arm round her shoulders infraternal fashion, and led her up the little sloping lawn on to theverandah of the bungalow. 

Here Toni stopped in some embarrassment. 

"I . .. I don't think I can come in like this. " In spite of the sun herteeth were chattering. "I--I shall spoil your carpets!"

"Oh, they're beyond spoiling, " he assured her, with a laugh. "Don'tworry about them! I think, though, you had better come into the kitchen, if you don't mind. There happens to be a fire there, and you can getwarm. "

She followed him obediently through the long window into the shabbysitting-room, which for all its shabbiness had an oddly harmoniouseffect; and from there he took her into the small, cosy kitchen, whichwas scrupulously tidy and spotlessly clean. 

"Now"--he looked at her a little dubiously--"obviously, the thing to dois to get off those wet clothes, have a hot bath, and put on somethingdry. Well, if I bring my tub in here and fill it from the boiler, wouldyou mind having it in the kitchen? You see, I don't want you to getcold. "

"Oh, I don't think I need do that, " said Toni, between laughing andcrying. "If you lent me a mackintosh or a big coat I could get homequite well. "

"What--as you are?" He smiled at her, but so kindly that she could nottake offence. "Well, to begin with, your punt is miles away by now, andanyway you are much too wet to leave this house. Now"--he went brisklyto the door--"I'm going to fetch my bath and I'll have it filled in ajiffy. You'll feel all right after a hot soak. "

He went out, leaving Toni, very wet and uncomfortable, in the middle ofthe floor. In a minute he returned, dragging after him a good-sizedbath, filled to the brim with towels of every description. 

"Now, I'll put it here, in front of the fire. " He worked as he spoke. "And if I fill these two big cans there'll be enough water. What ablessing Mrs. Swastika kept a good fire to-day. "

"Mrs. Swastika?" In the midst of her discomfiture Toni thought the nameodd. 

"Oh, that's not her real name. " He filled the cans vigorously. "She isreally Swanson or Swanage or something like that--but I never know whatit is, so I call her Swastika. She is rather like the individual in the'Hunting of the Snark, ' who 'answered to Hi or to any loud cry, ' butit's handy having a name to call her by sometimes. "

He broke off in his nonsense and disappeared abruptly, leaving Toniwondering whether she was intended to begin her ablutions or no. Luckilyshe decided to wait a moment, and was glad she had done so when her hostreturned, bearing in his arms some garments, which he put down on achair rather apologetically. 

"I'm really most awfully sorry, Mrs. Rose, but I've no femininefripperies of any sort! But if you can possibly make these things do fora bit, I'll send a boy on a bicycle down to your place and tell them toput together some clothes for you. "

"Oh, will you?" Toni was beginning to find her soaked garments ratherunpleasantly chilly. "I live at Greenriver--oh, you know?--and if youtell the housekeeper to send me everything, she'll know what I want. "

"Very well. " He had been busying himself with a little saucepan over thefire as she spoke, and now he handed her a glass containing some mulledwine. 

"I'll dispatch a lad at once--in the meantime please drink this--it'squite harmless, I assure you!"

As she took the glass he hurried to the door, and went out, pulling itcarefully to after him. 

"Pull down the blind and lock the door, " he commanded her through thekeyhole. "The back door is locked already, so you are quite safe. "

As soon as he was gone, and her privacy assured, Toni lost no time indoing as he bade her; and it certainly was a relief to slip out of herclinging garments and plunge into the hot water waiting for her. She didnot waste time, remembering his commands; but when it came to a questionof re-dressing, and she examined the clothes he had brought, Toni gaveway and burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter. 

He had apologized for the lack of feminine garments, but Toni had notbeen prepared for the substitute he had given her. There, beneath theheavy dressing-gown, was a pair of silk pyjamas immaculately got up andfolded; and at the sight of their purple and white glories Toni laughedand laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. 

At first she determined that nothing in the world would persuade her todon the resplendent pyjamas. Then a glance at her own soaked and nowsteaming clothing gave her courage; and giggling softly to herself shegot into the silken garments, which by dint of much turning up of hemsand shortening of sleeves were given some semblance of a fit. Next camethe dressing-gown, an eminently masculine affair of brown camel's hair, with red collar and cuffs, and when she had tied the girdle round herwaist, and, scorning the evening socks which lay ready, had slipped herbare feet into a pair of capacious slippers, Toni was so overcome by herown bizarre appearance that once more she burst out laughing gaily. 

A knock at the door made her stop short, and she called out in a ratherquavery voice:

"Yes? Who's there?"

"Only I--Herrick, " came the answer. "When you're ready will you comeinto the other room? The sun's blazing in, but I can easily light a fireif you feel chilly. "

Toni cast a doubtful look at herself in this queer garb, and thendetermined, very sensibly, that it was no good being prudish and silly. After all, the dressing-gown wrapped her up completely; and at any rateher own clothes would presently arrive to deliver her from this ratherabsurd situation. 

"I'm coming in a minute, " she called out gaily. "I'm just going to letmy hair down--it's rather wet, but it will dry in the sun. "

She pulled out her hair-pins recklessly, and the black waves tumbledwetly on to her shoulders. A few minutes' vigorous drying before thefire met with success, and presently Toni found courage to unlock thedoor and sally forth into the little hall. 

Mr. Herrick was waiting for her by the sitting-room door, and he bit hislip quickly at sight of the funny little figure emerging from thekitchen. 

He spoke quite gravely, however, and Toni, who had glanced at him rathersharply, felt reassured. 

"That's right. Now, come and sit down, will you? See, if you take thischair, you're in the sun, and it will warm you. You're sure you're notcold?"

"Oh, no, I'm quite warm, " Toni assured him. "It's only my hair that'swet, and it won't take long to dry. "

While her eyes wandered casually round the room, Herrick took theopportunity of observing his guest more closely; and his scrutinypleased him oddly. 

In spite of her ludicrous garb Toni looked quaintly attractive. Heryouth triumphed, as youth always will, over minor drawbacks, and nowthat she was warm and dry the colour was coming back to her lips and hercomplexion recovering its creamy tone. Even her hair curled bewitchinglywhen damp; and Herrick owned that Barry's description of her as a"pretty kid" had not been wrong. 

As for Toni, she was much interested in this sunny, shabby room. Thecarpet might be old, beyond spoiling, as its owner described it, but itwas a feast of soft, harmonious colours all the same, and althoughfaded, its very dimness of hue was a charm. The curtains which hung atthe long windows were of a queer, Persian-looking fabric; and on themantelpiece were a dozen little bits of pottery of a greeny-blue tintwhich harmonized excellently with the grey-papered walls. 

Books there were in plenty, on shelves and tables, even on two of thechairs; and as she looked about her Toni caught sight of the last numberof the _Bridge_ lying on the low divan as though thrown there by areader disturbed in his reading. 

Herrick's eyes had followed the direction of hers. 

"You recognize your husband's review? You've seen it, of course, thislast number?"

"Yes. " She had seen it, though it is to be feared that she had paid itscant attention. 

"It's better than ever this month. " He sat down and took up the paper. "There's a little poem--'Pan-Shapes'--which simply delighted me. Did ittake your fancy, I wonder?"

"I . .. I don't think I have read it, " she said, wishing suddenly thatshe had not been forced to make the admission. 

"No? Well it has not been out long. " He was turning the pages as hespoke. "There's something else here--another special article onMysticism by Father Garland, which is oddly fascinating. Of course sucha subject, treated by one of the greatest mystics who ever lived, wasbound to be of the highest interest; but I never expected anything quiteso arresting, so satisfying, when I began to read. "

He paused, evidently waiting for her to speak; but Toni sat tongue-tied, miserably conscious that in her mind no answering enthusiasm could beborn, since she had neither read nor wished to read a single word of thearticle in question. 

A hint of her mental discomfort probably reached the man on the sofa bysome telepathic means, for he suddenly tossed away the review and spokein a lighter tone. 

"How long have you been punting, Mrs. Rose?"

"Oh, a very short time, " she said rather apologetically. "My husband hasgiven me some lessons since we came down here. He doesn't know Isometimes go out alone, " she added ingenuously. "I don't go very often, because I know I'm not much good. But to-day I saw some people coming tocall and I ran out of the house and jumped into the punt so that I couldescape. "

Herrick smiled. 

"What--are you like me? Do you avoid your fellow-creatures onprinciple?"

She looked a little puzzled. 

"Oh no, I don't avoid people when I know them. But I've had such heapsof callers, and it's such a waste of time making conversation over teawhen one wants to be out in the sunshine. "

"In fact you prefer nature to human nature?"

"I suppose I do. " She frowned rather thoughtfully. "At least I wouldalways rather be out of the house than in it. And it's so lovely by theriver in the summer. I go for walks before breakfast with my dog, andthe world is so beautiful in the early morning before the mists have allvanished in the sun. "

"Ah! That reminds me!" Herrick rose. "You haven't seen _my_ dog! I'll goand bring her in; she's lying in the shade at the back at present. "

He went out, returning in a moment with the stately Olga, who had been, as he suggested, sleeping in the shade. He kept his hand on her silvercollar as she advanced, fearing that Toni's queer mixture of garmentsmight upset her canine mind; but Olga apparently took her master'sfriends on trust, and presently strolled over to Toni and laid one longpaw tentatively upon her knee. 

Toni, delighted, stroked the beautiful creature affectionately, andHerrick said to himself cheerfully:

"Come, she's got one thing in her favour anyway! If she can't appreciategood literature she understands dogs--and after all they are worth moreas humanizers of the race, than any amount of books. "

"She's lovely, Mr. Herrick!" Toni lifted delighted eyes. "What do youcall her? Something nice, I hope. "

"Her name is Olga, " he returned. "Not very original for a Russian dog, Iconfess, but she was already christened when she came to me. You likeher?"

"I think she's a darling, and Olga is quite a nice name. A friend ofmine at school had a dog like her, and we used to take her intoKensington Gardens for a run on Saturday afternoons. Her name was Pearl. It's a pretty name for a white wolfhound, isn't it? They're like pearls, somehow, so smooth and shining. "

She was stroking the dog's satiny head as she spoke, and did not noticethe change in the man's face; but when he remained silent she looked upas though to see why he did not respond. 

"Oh, Mr. Herrick, what's the matter?" Toni was frightened by his pallor. 

"Nothing--nothing!" He shook off his mental disturbance with a strongeffort. "I . .. I sometimes have a sort of pain--in my heart--but it'sgone, quite gone, now. "

Toni was not altogether satisfied with the explanation and asked herselfremorsefully what she had said to vex him; but she could not think ofanything which would be likely to give offence to her host, and decided, finally, that he had spoken truthfully. 

She could not know how intimately the tragedy of Herrick's life wasbound up with the thought of a string of shining pearls; and her veryunconsciousness served to show the man she had spoken in all innocence. 

"Your husband must be very busy with this review in hand, " he saidpresently, remembering Barry's entreaty to him to examine the situationfor himself. "Does he work at home or has he to spend much time intown?"

"Oh, he does both, " she said, relieved by his return to his formermanner. "He is in town to-day, but he has been at home a good deallately. "

"I see. It must be rather dull for you when he is shut up writing, " hewent on tentatively. "Writers and men of letters generally like to beleft to themselves pretty much. "

"Oh, I don't think my husband does, " said Toni blithely. "I often go inand sit with him while he works, and if I promise to go to bed early hesometimes brings his papers into the drawing-room at night. "

Herrick felt a sudden spasm of amusement, mingled with a distinctimpulse of sympathy for the unfortunate writer. 

"Oh! I should have thought it would be too disturbing to work in theroom with anyone else--even one's wife, " he added with a smile. 

"Why should it be?" Toni opened eyes of amazement. "I sit quite still--Ihardly ever speak--and Jock and I--my dog--play little games togetherever so quietly. "

"You don't help him in his work?"

"No. " She shook her head. "I'm not clever enough for that. I do typingfor him sometimes, but even then I'm not really much use. "

"You are not an expert, perhaps?"

"Oh, I can use the typewriter all right--I've had heaps of practice. Butwhen it comes to revising things, sort of making up an article out ofrough notes, I'm no good. To begin with I can never understand what thethings are about, and I always get quotations hopelessly mixed. "

"I see. " In spite of himself Herrick laughed. "You are not a greatreader, then?"

"No--I hate books, " she replied frankly. "Somehow it seems a waste oftime to read when you can be doing nicer things. Besides, my husbanddoesn't like to see me reading what he calls trash, and I simply can'tget through the things he gives me!"

"Well, after all life's the most interesting book of all--when one'syoung, " he said indulgently. "But I'm afraid you'll wish you'd developeda taste for reading when you get like me, middle-aged and dull. "

"But you aren't dull----" she was beginning eagerly, when a loud knockat the back door of the bungalow interrupted her sentence, and she brokeoff hastily. 

"That'll be my messenger back, " said Herrick, rising. "With garments foryou, I suppose. I'll go and see. "

He went out, returning presently with a neatly-strapped suit-case whichhe held up with a smile. 

"Your maids have packed you a change of raiment, " he said, "and have, moreover, sent a car for you to return in. I gather from the boy thattwo of your people squabbled as to which of them should have theprivilege of bringing your things to you, but in the middle of thediscussion the chauffeur, thinking, no doubt, that you were stillwearing your wet garments, got impatient and started off without eitherof them!"

Toni had risen, and now stood hesitating a little with her hand on thesuit-case. 

"You'll like to change at once, I daresay. " He spoke in a business-liketone. "Will you come into my little guest-chamber? There's a glassthere, and you'll be able to dress comfortably. "

She assented, and he took her into yet another of the rooms in his tinydomain, a small, bare little place which had a rather patheticallyunused look about it. 

Here she made a rapid toilet, finding everything she required with theexception of a hat, which had evidently been forgotten. A brush and combhad been tucked into a corner, however, and she thankfully brushed herhair and made it into two thick plaits, which for want of hair-pins shewas forced to leave hanging over her shoulders. 

When she sallied forth once more she found Herrick waiting for her witha tiny tea-tray. 

"You must have a cup of tea before you go. " He poured it out as hespoke. "And a biscuit--one of Mrs. Swastika's specialities. She's anexcellent cook, and proud of her cakes, so do try one--to please me--andher!"

Toni drank the tea gratefully and found both it and the little cakesdelicious. The next thing to do was to collect her soaked clothes, andin spite of Herrick's protests that Mrs. Swastika would see to theirsafe return she crammed them ruthlessly into the suit-case before goingout to the waiting motor. 

As she shook hands with Herrick, after thanking him very prettily forhis kindness, Toni ventured a shy invitation. 

"Will you come to see us at Greenriver, Mr. Herrick? I'm sure my husbandwill wish to thank you for fishing me out of the river. "

"Thanks, " he said quietly. "I will certainly come. It will give me greatpleasure to meet Mr. Rose. "

He tucked her into the car, shook hands again, and then stoodbare-headed in the sunshine watching the motor spin round the white anddusty road. 

At the bend Toni turned and waved her hand to him gaily, and heresponded with a smile, which faded as the car vanished from sight. 

Somehow his meeting with the girl had saddened him oddly. There wassomething rather pathetic about Toni at this moment of her existence, though it would have been hard to say exactly wherein the pathos lay. Inspite of himself Herrick was haunted by the little picture she had drawnof her life with Owen Rose. He could fancy the two sitting together atnight in the lamp-lit drawing-room, the man writing, or trying to write, as though alone, the young wife sitting silently by doing nothing, orplaying quiet little games with her dog to relieve the monotony of anevening uncheered by any interesting book or engrossing study. 

A worker himself, Herrick knew very well the deadening influence exertedby an unoccupied companion during working hours; and the fact that Tonidid not care for books, and confessed to non-comprehension of herhusband's work, struck Herrick as unfortunate, to say the least. 

To this man, forced by circumstance into a more or less secluded stateof life, Toni's lack of social experience weighed very lightly. She hadnot, perhaps, the manner or style of the girls one met in Mayfair orBelgravia, but she was simple and natural and unaffected; and Herrickfound himself hoping that Mr. Rose knew how to value the traits ofsimplicity and straightforwardness at their true worth. 

Then it was possible that the marriage might be a success in spite ofthe evident disparity of tastes between the two; but remembering Barry'sgloomy forebodings, Herrick was bound to admit that the prospect ofhappiness seemed rather doubtful. 

At present, however, he could do nothing; and with a resolve to call atGreenriver at the first available opportunity he went back into hislittle bungalow, which seemed strangely lonely as the twilight fell overthe river-banks. 

CHAPTER XII

As the summer glided by, in a succession of golden, cloudless days, Owenbegan to ask himself, rather drearily, whether his marriage was going toturn out a success or an irretrievable failure. 

When once the novelty of Toni's companionship had worn off, when he hadgrown used to her pretty, childish ways, accustomed to the sense ofyouth and light-hearted joy which she diffused about the old house, hebegan to find, to his dismay, that these were not all the attributes aman looked for in the woman he had made his wife. 

He had never expected to find Toni clever in an intellectual sense; butneither had he deemed her quite so shallow as she was proving herself tobe. She seemed absolutely incapable of making any mental effort; theworld of art and literature was a closed book to her, and, what wasstill more disappointing, she cared nothing for any of the social orpolitical questions of the day, and took absolutely no interest in thecontemporary life of the world about her. 

Reading she disliked. Music appealed to her, for Toni was emotional, with the quick, facile emotionalism of the South; but she was nomusician herself, and the grand piano in the drawing-room was silentthrough these sunshiny days. She had rather a talent for housekeeping, and in a smaller establishment would doubtless have been a success; butat Greenriver there was little for her to do, and she knew quite wellthat the housekeeper resented any interference with her particularprovince. Toni's household duties, therefore, were confined to thearrangement of the flowers and the care of her husband's desk--a labourof love which she performed with so much good will that Owen felt itwould be churlish to find fault with any inconvenience arisingtherefrom. 

Owen often wondered how his wife managed to fill the days which must beso terribly empty. He himself was working harder than usual, sincebeside the review he was contributing articles, by invitation, toseveral well-known journals; and he often worked till late into thenight; but Toni had no work, no hobbies, nothing with which to fill thelong, sunny hours. 

She did not complain. Indeed, she seemed happy enough in her idleness;and by this time she knew a good many people in the neighbourhood, though she had not made many friends. 

At the Vicarage she was not looked upon with much favour, owing to anunfortunate conversation with the Vicar's wife, when in response tovarious leading questions Toni had shown a lamentable ignorance of thegreat gulf which yawns between Church and Chapel--a quite conceivableignorance on the part of the London tradesman's niece, who had attendedChapel with her aunt and uncle on Sunday evenings as cheerfully as shejoined in the more attractive service in the Church which the genteelFanny generally patronized on Sunday mornings. 

When, further, Toni innocently admitted that, although baptized into theChurch of England, she had usually attended the Roman Catholic Churchand Sunday School during her Italian childhood, the wife of the Vicarwas appalled; and ever afterwards she spoke of Mrs. Rose as unsound inher views, a condemnation which in the somewhat old-fashionedneighbourhood carried full weight. 

Lady Martin also strongly disapproved of the young mistress ofGreenriver, though probably only she herself and her spinster daughtercould have adduced any reason for their dislike of Toni and all herworks. 

The story of the shrimps had long since amused Lady Martin's largecircle of acquaintances; and although no one had ventured to breathe aword before either Owen Rose or his wife, it was hardly surprising thatToni came to be considered rather amusingly unsophisticated; so that theslightest _gaucherie_ into which the unconscious Toni was betrayedduring those first weeks of her introduction into the society of thedistrict was eagerly noted and joyfully magnified in a dozendrawing-rooms. 

There was the laughable story of the Roses' late arrival at an importantdinner-party, and Mrs. Rose's ingenuous explanation to her ratherirascible host that she had torn her frock at the last moment whileplaying with her dog, and had been obliged to change it for another--andthis to an elderly man who "liked dogs in their proper place, " by whichstatement one may measure the depth of his liking very accurately. 

There was the occasion on which Mrs. Rose, being pressed by amischievous fellow-guest, had accepted a cigarette under the impressionthe other ladies were about to do likewise--an impression quicklydispelled by the stony glare of her hostess and the ominous whispers ofthe other women. 

The hostess, indeed, had uttered one short, biting comment which hadreduced Toni, already overwhelmed by the magnitude of her offence, almost to tears; but though it is only fair to say that her tempterapologized most handsomely, and was her firm friend and defender everafterwards, the description of Mrs. Rose as a half-foreign andwholly-Bohemian young woman, of cigarette-smoking tendencies, was dulyretailed at several dinner-tables during the following weeks. 

At first Toni took her social failures very much to heart; but Owen, whowas no snob, reassured her valiantly; and since Toni was only tooanxious to be comforted she did her best to dismiss these unpleasantexperiences from her mind. 

Presently, indeed, she found two congenial spirits. The doctor's prettyold house, known locally as Cherry Orchard, harboured two lively andathletic young women who were only too pleased to be friends with themerry and vivacious Toni. They were honest, unintellectual girls, enthusiastic over all sports and excelling in most; and they took Tonito their sporting hearts and promised to introduce her to the localtennis and golf clubs without loss of time. 

On her part, Toni felt at ease with them immediately, and when once shehad learned to distinguish between Molly and Cynthia--a distinction madethe more difficult owing to their peculiar habit of addressing eachother as Toby--she thoroughly enjoyed their companionship. 

In the matter of tennis, Toni, who had only played occasionally at athird-rate suburban club, was at first no match for them; but the twoTobies, who were the essence of good nature, coached her so well and sovigorously that before long she was a capital player; and when once Tonirealized that Owen wished her to be as hospitable as she could possiblydesire to be, she rejoiced in giving little impromptu tea-parties on thelawn, under the shade of one of the noble elms which were a feature ofGreenriver. 

Sometimes she took the girls motoring; and between tennis, golf, riverpicnics and motor excursions, the days simply flew for Toni; so that atlast even Owen began to realize that he need not pity her, since she wasliving a life which exactly suited her. 

Once he realized this, his pity was directed towards himself. 

This was not the sort of married life he had contemplated; and althoughhe was too just to blame his wife for her lack of sympathy with his aimsand ideals, he began to wish that Toni would sometimes lay aside herfrivolity and exchange her light and ceaseless chatter about triflingmatters for a slightly more profitable style of conversation. 

Owen had called upon James Herrick at his bungalow, the Hope House, tothank him for rescuing Toni; and the other man had duly returned hiscall; but although Owen gave Herrick a very cordial general invitationto Greenriver the two men had not much in common save a mutual love ofgood books. 

Owen thought Herrick peculiar, eccentric in his ways. It seemed odd fora man to live alone as he lived, doing his own work except for theoccasional aid of a woman whom he called Mrs. Swastika. If he had hadany particular work or hobby which necessitated solitude Owen could haveunderstood it; but Herrick seemed to spend his days as idly, asaimlessly, as Toni herself. 

He went on the river a good deal, took long walks with his dog, butbeyond that he seemed to do nothing but lounge in a chair on the lawn, shabbily clad, with a pipe between his lips and a book, generallyunopened, on his knee. His political views seemed to Owen to be as vagueas were Toni's; and he had an irritating habit of setting aside anyrecognized standard of perfection as though the world's seal of approvalmeant less than nothing. 

He would demolish a given institution in a few lazy words, but he neverattempted to set up another in its place. He seemed content to put hisfinger on the weak spot in any system without troubling to point out aremedy; and to Owen, whose eager mind was ever ready to remedy abuses, this attitude of half-pitying, half-amused toleration was vaguelyirritating. 

Herrick seemed to view life, indeed, with a kind of large detachment, asthough from the height of some soaring pinnacle one might watch, withonly half-awakened interest, the doings of the dwellers on the plain;and Owen, who liked to be in the midst of things, to add his quota tothe world's doings, found in this attitude of mind a pose, ahalf-insolent pretence at superiority, which was galling. 

Without saying a disparaging word Herrick appeared to belittle theefforts made by Owen and his fellows to enlighten the world; and sinceeveryone knows that the criticism of a non-worker is a hundred timesmore irritating than that of a co-operator, Owen may be excused forfinding Herrick uncongenial. 

And yet by nature Herrick was a kindly, cheery soul enough, who had beenfired in his youth by an excessive love for humanity--for all thehumanities. But shortly after his marriage he had faced a tremendouscrash; and though, when the first shock was over, he had pulled himselftogether, and gathered up, as best he might, the fragments of his life, he had lost for ever that eager, humane, half-Quixotic spirit which hadmade his young manhood pass like a joyous race. 

 * * * * *

As time went on Owen got into the habit of spending most of his days intown, where he found it easier to work than at home. He begged Toni totell him honestly whether she found herself lonely in his absence, butToni assured him truthfully that she was perfectly happy sitting in herbeautiful old garden or taking lunch and tea on the river, either alone, or in the company of her friends, Molly and Cynthia Peach. Punting alonewas forbidden, but seeing Toni's disappointment, her husband hadpurchased for her a stout little dinghy in which she was perfectly safe, and this same craft was a source of delight to its owner. 

At first Owen had asked Toni to come up to town with him, to do someshopping or go to a _matinée_, but London in summer was no novelty toToni, and she infinitely preferred to stay at Willowhurst and amuseherself in her own way. 

One night it chanced that Owen arrived home much earlier than usual. Theweather had broken a day or two previously, and the air was heavy withthunder. Consequently Owen's head ached furiously, with one of theneuralgic headaches which since his accident he had good cause to dread;and the fact that he had an important piece of work to finish withoutloss of time fretted his nerves to racking-point. 

London was particularly hot and malodorous to-day; and it was with asigh of relief that Owen steered his car away from the stuffy streetstowards the green and fragrant valley of the Thames. There was a copperyglow in the sky which presaged a storm, and puffs of hot air blewgustily into his face; but it would be fresher at Willowhurst, and ifthe storm should break there would be a delightful hour or twoafterwards, when the earth, cooled by the rain, would send up itsincense of sweet odours into the summer darkness, and the evening breezewould bring refreshment to weary, throbbing brows. 

True, the work must be done, if human endurance could do it; and with asigh of relief Owen remembered that Toni would be disengaged and able tohelp him in some way, if only by typing the manuscript when he hadbrought it to a close. There was also a little research work to be done, one or two quotations to be verified, a few short extracts to bemade--work which came well within the scope of Toni's powers; and heknew that she would be only too pleased to give him what help she could. 

But he had reckoned without his host. On leaving home in the morning hehad told his wife he would probably be late in returning, and hadapologized for leaving her so long alone. So far from feeling aggrievedat his absence, however, Toni seized the opportunity of inviting Mollieand Cynthia over for tennis; and the girls accepted blithely, bringingover with them a young cousin, just through Sandhurst, who was an adeptat the game. 

Toni welcomed the boy happily; and the four young people played tennisvigorously, with an interval for tea, until the elder Toby beganregretfully to talk of going home. 

There were already rumblings of thunder, and the sky behind the bigcedar trees looked strangely lurid; and Toni, who hated a storm, wasloth to let them go. 

An idea striking her, she begged them all to stay and have a late supperwith her; after which Mr. Cooper and Mollie, being musical, might givethe others an impromptu concert--a plan to which, after a little decenthesitation, the trio assented gaily. 

Toni, pleased that she was not to be left alone to face the storm, tookthem indoors to get tidy, and then danced off to the kitchen tointerview the cook. 

Mrs. Blades, lighting the Ten Little Ladies earlier than usual onaccount of the gloom, was inclined to look askance at the invasion; butMartha and Maggie--the latter filling the place of Kate, enjoying her"evening off"--fell into the plan with alacrity; and while the formerbrought out the cold chickens and the galantine intended for themorrow's lunch, Maggie bustled round the oval table laying extra placesand making such preparations as commended themselves to her ever-fertilemind. 

Owing to the stormy dusk it was necessary to light the candles on thesupper-table, where bowls of great crimson roses made pools of colour onthe white cloth; and very attractive the table looked to the four hungrypeople who presently sat down to eat and chatter. 

There was plenty of gay laughter over the meal. Jokes were bandiedhither and thither, shocking puns were made and greeted with shrieks ofmirth, and if the conversation was eminently frivolous, at least it wasgood-humoured, hearty, wholesome frivolity. 

Yet when Owen reached home in his car and entered the hall with rather aweary step, the somewhat noisy merriment which greeted him brought afrown to his forehead. 

He questioned Andrews as to what was going on, and the young butlerinformed him, with a complacency which Owen in his present mood foundirritating, that Mrs. Rose was entertaining the two Misses Peach and agentleman to supper. 

"Oh!" Owen paused in his walk towards the dining-room door. "In thatcase, I think I will just have a whisky and soda in the library--and afew sandwiches. "

"Very good, sir, " the man was beginning, when there was a peal oflaughter from behind the closed door; and the next moment, Toni cameflying out of the room, holding aloft a large bunch of grapes, while Mr. Cooper pursued her hotly, making grabs at the fruit as he did so. 

Unable to stop herself, Toni cannoned violently into her husband, andthe unfortunate youth from Sandhurst, brought to an unexpected halt, found himself face to face with an unknown man whose expression was notexactly inviting. 

"Owen, is it you? How you startled me!" Toni lifted two sparkling eyesto her husband's face. "When did you come? You said you wouldn't be hometill after ten!"

"I've just arrived, " he said, striving hard to keep any hint ofannoyance out of his tone. "You were making such a noise you didn't hearthe car! Well, Toni, won't you introduce me to your friend?"

On being presented, Mr. Cooper, held out his hand rather awkwardly. 

"I'm afraid we were making an awful din, " he said, apologetically. "Wegot ragging over the dessert and Mrs. Rose stole my grapes----?"

"Oh, you fibber!" Toni was not going to stand that. "They were mine, andyou took them off my plate when I wasn't looking!"

"I'm afraid they aren't much good to anyone now, " said Owen with asmile. "They are pretty well squashed, Toni, and I fancy your frock'sgot the worst of the encounter!"

"Well, it's only my tennis-frock, " said Toni, her first involuntaryqualms driven away by the friendly sound in Owen's voice. "We'll go backand finish now. You'll come, Owen? I'll tell Maggie to bring back thefood. "

"No, don't bother. " He spoke quietly. "I'll go and brush off some of theLondon dust while you and your friends finish your supper. I'll have abite later on. Don't worry about me. " He turned to the boy. "I'm afraidwe're in for a storm. I felt a few drops as I came up the drive. "

Somewhat reluctantly, Toni left her husband and returned to thedining-room, where the Tobies anxiously awaited her coming. They hadpractically finished their meal, and a few moments later rose from thetable and went into the drawing-room, where Toni presently excusedherself and went in search of her husband. 

She found him in the library, where Andrew had just brought him aslender repast; and even the unobservant Toni was struck by the look offatigue which brooded over his face as he sat poring over someclosely-written sheets. 

"Owen, I'm sure you ought not to do that now. Do leave it till to-morrowand come and listen to some music in the drawing-room instead. "

She laid one small hand on the sheets as though to wrest them from hisgrasp; but he lifted her fingers aside with a rather weary gesture. 

"No, dear, I can't leave this. " His voice was flat and toneless. "I'vepromised to send it off the first thing to-morrow morning, and there's alot to be done yet. "

"But I'm sure you're ill! Have you got neuralgia again?"

"A little--oh, it's nothing, only the thunder in the air. You might tellAndrews to bring me some phenacetin, will you, dear? And now, my child, run away to your guests--they'll think it queer if you leave them alonemuch longer. "

Toni turned obediently to the door, but she was not yet easy in hermind. 

"Owen, are you sure there is nothing I can do?"

"Nothing, thank you, dear. I believe the storm is passing after all. "

He spoke the truth, for with a few more mutterings the thunder died awayin the distance; and though the promised coolness did not come, bothOwen and Toni were relieved by the lightening atmosphere--Toni becauseshe was an arrant coward where thunderstorms were concerned; Owenbecause he felt that the clash of the elements would render theneuralgic pains in his head almost unbearable. 

For long after Toni, relieved, had gone back to her visitors he satdoing nothing, lacking the energy to attack his task. Now and then heheard a few notes on the piano, and once he opened the door to listen tothe elder Miss Peach's rendering of a song he knew, for Mollie Peach hada sweet, limpid soprano voice which no amount of chatter and noisylaughter could destroy. 

When, however, the young man from Sandhurst started to shout a comicsong, Owen shut the door hastily and wished the boy at Jericho. 

He began to think the visitors would never go. At first he had hopedthat their departure would set Toni free to help him after all; but whenthe clock in the hall chimed the half hour after ten, and still themusic and laughter continued, he knew it was useless to expect any aidto-night. 

At eleven the party broke up. The bicycles were brought round, and thefour went gaily out of the front door to light lamps and see tosuspiciously slack tyres. 

Owen had charged Toni with polite messages to the two girls; and they, being somewhat in awe of a real live writer, were not sorry to avoid ameeting with their host; but Toni seemed so loth to part with them thatshe detained them all on the steps, chattering eagerly while the starswinked down out of the clearing sky and the owls hooted in melancholyfashion from the tops of the tall trees behind the house. 

Finally the last farewells were said, the last appointments made; andToni, yawning, turned to Andrews and bade him lock up safely. 

She was still yawning when she came into the library a moment later; andin the lamplight Owen caught a glimpse of her little red mouth gapingbehind her hand as she came up to the table. 

"How sleepy I am!" Indeed her eyes were bright, like those of a sleepychild. "Aren't you coming, Owen? It's ever so late. "

"Why didn't you pack your friends off a little earlier then?"

"Oh, I didn't want them to go. " She yawned childishly once more. "Owen"--suddenly a thought struck her--"you're not cross, are you? Youdidn't mind me having them here? You know, I thought it was going to bea storm----"

"Of course I didn't mind, " he said, disarmed by her sudden appeal. "Itwas my fault for turning up unexpectedly. But now, Toni, supposing yourun away to bed? I really must finish this work, and it's getting late. "

She agreed, docilely, and kissing him lightly, ran away to bed as shewas commanded, falling asleep as soon as she was safely there. 

But Owen sat late in the library--sat, indeed, till the short summernight began to recede with stealthy, sliding footsteps before thevictorious onrush of the dawn; and in those quiet, lamp-lit hours heasked himself despairingly why he had been in such haste to marry. 

One consolation lay in the fact that Toni herself had not the slightestidea that her marriage was anything but a success. She did not know thather idleness, her incessant chatter about trivial things, her constantinterruptions, her unauthorized intrusions into the privacy of hisworking hours, worried him almost beyond measure. 

Bubbling over with youth and joy, she had no eyes for the look ofstrain, of weariness on another's face; and to her it seemed quite rightthat her husband should write and study while she danced through thesummer hours as she would. 

He liked his work, she supposed; and in Toni's world it was the usualthing for the men to work to support their wives. But that the wives hadequal duties, that it was theirs to share the burdens of the men'sspiritual and mental labour, she had, as yet, no idea. 

"At least, " said Owen wearily to himself, as he rose stiffly from hischair and moved to the oriel window to watch the marvel of the dawn, "atleast I have made her happy; and as for me, it's my own mistake, and Imust bear the consequences!"

With which philosophical reflection he extinguished the lamp and wentslowly upstairs to bed. 

CHAPTER XIII

In after days Toni always looked back to the afternoon of the VicarageBazaar as the occasion on which her eyes were opened ruthlessly to thecruelty of life. 

The day began auspiciously enough. It was August now, a hot, languorousAugust, when the river lay veiled in a mist of heat, and the air, evenin the early morning, was a sea of liquid gold. There were wonderful, magical nights, too, nights of mellow moonlight and sweet, mysteriousperfumes, nights when a breath of clean, fragrance from distantbean-fields mingled with the richer, heavier scent of roses and Madonnalilies. 

To Toni the summer had been one long time of enchantment. From themoment when she opened her eyes in the dawn, and ran to the window tosee the hills shimmering in the heat, and the river sparkling with thepeculiar silvery sheen of early morning, to the moment when she took herlast stroll in the garden at night, and saw the stars come out in thedarkening sky, while the white owls hooted mournfully in the tall trees, all, to Toni, was happiness and joy. 

There is no doubt that people who are not introspective lead thehappiest lives. Toni, not being given to wasting her time in reflectionor self-analysis, remained happily unconscious of the fact that her lifeduring that splendid summer was a very idle one. Like a good many othergirls, she considered that a strenuous game on the tennis-court or astiff pull up the river entitled her to as much subsequent leisure asshe desired; and she enjoyed the slight fatigue consequent on theseexertions with a virtuous sense of having really done some work whichentitled her to a holiday. 

She did not see very much of her husband; and sometimes she felt, with aslight pang of remorse, that before their marriage she had really takenmore interest in his work than she found time to do nowadays. Not thathe ever seemed to expect anything from her in that way. Once or twice, in the earlier days of their married life, he had been led intodiscussing various features of the review with her, and she had reallytried hard to listen intelligently, and understand what he was talkingabout; but somehow he seemed to guess that the subjects did not interesther; and for the last few weeks he had confined his conversations withher to the little trivial happenings of every day. 

He didn't mind, she supposed. He must get plenty of the old _Bridge_ atthe office; and anyway it was far more of a change for him, when he camehome, to talk of other things, even though they were in one sense lessimportant. 

She herself was perfectly happy; and had she been asked, she wouldcertainly have said that Owen was in a state of equal bliss. Moreover, seeing that he had chosen her out of a world of women to be his wife, she never stopped to ask herself whether or no she came up to hisstandard of wifely perfection. 

And considering her peculiarly blind and unquestioning attitude of mindon the subject of her relation to her husband, the awakening whichpresently came was doubly painful. 

The occasion, as has been stated, was that of the Vicarage Bazaar, anannual function held in the Vicarage gardens in the middle of August;and since Mrs. Madgwick, the Vicar's wife, had from motives of parochialdiplomacy established some sort of intimacy with the young mistress ofGreenriver, she had pressed Toni into her service as the great day cameround. 

With Molly and Cynthia Peach, Toni was to assist at the flower-stall, which was always, so the Tobies assured her, certain of patronage; andby ten o'clock on the morning of the day, Toni was at the Vicarage, laden with masses of blossoms sent from Greenriver as a contribution tothe stall. 

From that moment until the hour of lunch, to which she was detainedalmost by force, Toni worked like a veritable busy bee, running errands, doing odd jobs, and, in the intervals, arranging the flowers on thestall, until hands and feet were both weary. 

Having finished the hurried and uncomfortable meal, consisting chieflyof tinned tongue and a rather out-of-date cream cheese, Toni was allowedto run home to change her dress; and at half-past two precisely she wasback, robed in the daintiest, filmiest white lawn gown, to take herplace with the other stallholders, in readiness for the openingceremony, performed, much to the delight of the entire Madgwick family, by a real duchess. 

The Duchess had little to say and said it very badly; but she was dulyapplauded and presented with a bouquet by a small white-robed child, stiff with starch and self-consciousness; after which her Gracedescended thankfully from the little platform erected for her speech, and fulfilled the second and easier half of her duty by making the roundof the stalls and spending a strictly equal amount at each one. 

By now Toni had a good many acquaintances in the neighbourhood, and waspleased to see Mrs. Anstey smiling at her as she inquired the price of amagnificent bunch of sweet-peas which had come from the gardens ofGreenriver. 

Toni told her the price, and she forthwith bought the flowers, greatlyto Toni's pleasure, for she loved her sweet-peas and had hoped, ratherchildishly, that someone nice would buy them. 

As she was handing over the change, Toni summoned up courage to askafter Miss Lynn, and Mrs. Anstey smiled. 

"She is very well, thanks, and coming here, I hope, in a week or two. She and Mr. Raymond are to be married at Christmas, as I daresay youhave heard. "

"Yes, my husband told me so. " Suddenly Toni blushed, remembering theoccasion of Miss Lynn's visit to her; and at the same moment, as thoughevoked by some mysterious method of thought, the robust andgaily-dressed form of Lady Martin suddenly materialized before her eyes. 

Her ladyship was engaged in cheapening a bunch of yellow roses, whileCynthia Peach was endeavouring, without much success, to point out thattheir fresh beauty and scent were well worth the original price. 

"I'll take them if you knock off sixpence, " Lady Martin was declaringrather aggressively; and Miss Peach glanced helplessly at her sister. 

"What shall I do, Toby?" she murmured anxiously. "Of course they'recheap already, but still I suppose they won't last----"

"Oh, nonsense, Toby, " whispered Mollie vigorously. "If she doesn't buythem heaps of people will. " Aloud she said firmly--"I'm afraid we can'ttake less, Lady Martin. The Duchess bought two bunches of the sameroses, and she didn't think them dear. "

Lady Martin paused, inherent meanness struggling with a snobbish desireto emulate the Duchess; and finally she gave in with a bad grace. 

As she took the roses her eyes fell on Toni, at that moment intent onher conversation with Mrs. Anstey; and her ladyship's ill-humour was notlessened by noticing the friendly glances which passed between them. 

She bore down upon them accordingly with outstretched hand. 

"Dear Mrs. Anstey, it is ages since we met!" Her piercing tones, likenedby the Tobies to those of a macaw, strove in vain for suavity. "So goodof you to come to this affair--such a distance for you, too!"

"Oh, I always try to come when I am at home, " said Mrs. Anstey gently. "I like to support Mr. Madgwick's parish, though I'm afraid I don'tspend a great deal of money! Really the flowers and the home-made cakesare the only things that tempt me. "

"And surely you have plenty of flowers at home!" Lady Martin glancedwith a disparaging little laugh at the stall before her. "I don't knowwhere these came from, but they look sadly wilted already. "

"I'm afraid I can't agree with you there, " said Mrs. Anstey, with alittle smile. "I think the flowers are charming, especially those sentby Mrs. Rose's kindness from Greenriver. "

She indicated Toni with a friendly little gesture, and Lady Martincondescended, unwillingly, to acknowledge the girl's greeting. To tellthe truth, Lady Martin had no desire to better her acquaintance withToni. She had long ago intended the owner of Greenriver for herson-in-law; and to find this little nobody, with her provincial ways andher foreign-looking eyes, acting as _châtelaine_ of the beautiful oldhouse in her daughter's place had an irritating effect. 

To make matters worse, several people had known of her matrimonialdesigns; and since the disappointment of one's friends is frequently asource of mirth, she had been annoyed by several tactless allusions, made presumably in jest, to her daughter's disappointment. 

So it was that she disliked Rose's wife with the hearty aversion of aspiteful and jealous woman; and the fact that she herself came of thepeople made her specially quick to suspect _bourgeois_ blood in others. 

She took a delight, now, in snubbing Toni; and presently made a point ofasking after her cousin Miss Mibbs. 

"She's very well, thank you, " replied Toni, wondering a little at thisunusual condescension. "But her name isn't Mibbs, it's Gibbs. "

"Really?" Lady Martin drawled the word out insolently, as though toindicate that the name of the young woman in question did not interesther. "She is not here to-day, I suppose?"

"No, " said Toni, absent-mindedly, "she was not able to get off to-day. "

"Get off?" Lady Martin pounced on the strange form of the admission. "She is . .. Er . .. Full of social engagements?"

Afterwards Toni thought it was the scent of the flowers which had madeher feel hazy just then. Although she had an intuition that herinterlocutor meant to be inquisitive, she had not the sense to turn thesubject with a vague assent; and after a second's hesitation repliedrather foolishly that her cousin's engagements were not in society. 

"Indeed? But it is holiday time--surely Miss Gibbs is not _teaching_now?"

Mrs. Anstey, feeling to the full the insolence of thiscross-examination, attempted to come to the rescue; but Lady Martinstood waiting so obviously for an answer that Toni felt constrained toreply. 

"No, Lady Martin. My cousin is not a governess. "

"No?" Lady Martin, who had the lust for cruelty inherent in all meannatures, pressed the point ruthlessly. "Then--I hardly see . .. In thesummer one does not work unless one is a private secretary or somethingof that sort; and I am sure your cousin"--with a pointed smile--"did notlook in the _very least_ like a private secretary!"

Suddenly Toni lost her head and her temper together. 

"My cousin is no one's secretary, Lady Martin. She is in a shop--Brownand Evans, drapers, of Brixton; and she is not here to-day becauseThursday is the early-closing day for the shops, and this is onlyTuesday!"

There was a short silence. Even Lady Martin felt uncomfortable, forthough she had literally goaded the girl into speech she did not enjoythe spectacle of Toni's flashing eyes and scarlet cheeks, nor theexpression of mingled contempt and compassion on Mrs. Anstey's face--thecontempt, as she very well knew, being intended for her, the compassionfor Toni. 

The moment she had spoken Toni knew what she had done; that besideslosing her temper and behaving in an ill-bred way she had given a handleto her enemies; and the tears were perilously near her eyes, thoughpride forbade her to let them fall. 

It was Cynthia Peach who came to the rescue. 

"How awfully jolly for your cousin, " she said plaintively. "I've alwayslonged to go into a shop! The girls have such a good time--and they meetheaps of young men! Not like us poor things who hardly ever see one!"

Her evident sincerity relieved the situation. Her sister might murmur"Oh, _Toby_!" under her breath, and Lady Martin might sneer, but Mrs. Anstey patted the speaker's arm with a very kindly smile. 

"Poor little Cynthia! I shall have to scour the neighbourhood for youngmen and give a party, " she said. "I'd no idea you were so forlorn!"

"Well, there aren't many, really, " conceded the elder Toby. "And I knowwhat Cynthia means! That's why she was so pleased to come and sellflowers!"

"And you are all neglecting your duties shamefully, my dears!" Mrs. Anstey moved aside to allow a batch of customers to approach the stall. "I mustn't stay here chattering. You will come and have tea with me, won't you, Mrs. Rose?" She turned to Toni, who was now as white as oneof her own lilies. "I will look for you at five in the tent--you will beable to get off by then!"

She smiled kindly at the girl as she moved away. Lady Martin had alreadygone, feeling, no doubt, that the weight of public opinion was againsther; and as a rush of business just then overwhelmed the flower-sellers, Toni had no time to dwell upon the recent little scene. 

But Mrs. Anstey looked for Toni in vain when five o'clock came. As amatter of fact Toni had felt, desperately, that she could not face thecrowded tea-tent, where doubtless she would again meet her enemy, LadyMartin; and she wanted no tea; she only wanted to be alone for a fewmoments, away from prying eyes, unkind tongues, that she might regainthe equilibrium so cruelly upset. 

With this end in view she slipped away when the two sisters came backfrom their hurried tea; and followed a little path which she knew wouldbring her out at a quiet corner of the grounds, where a rickety oldsummer-house might afford her the temporary shelter she sought. 

There was no one there; and although the entrance to the little hut wasalmost choked up with weeds and tall, rank flowers, she crept inside, and then, sinking on to the seat in the dimmest, darkest corner, gaveherself up to the fit of depression which had been stealing on her eversince her own rash avowal to Lady Martin. 

Suddenly she sat upright. Even here, it seemed, she was not to be freefrom interruption. She heard voices approaching, as though others wereseeking her hiding-place; and pushing aside one of the rotting woodenshutters she peeped cautiously out. 

Fate was against her to-day. In the two persons who were drawing near, evidently with the intention of seating themselves upon the benchoutside the hut, she recognized Lady Martin and Mrs. Madgwick; andinstantly Toni felt a quick foreboding of evil. 

Something seemed to tell her that it was she whom they were discussingso earnestly as they walked; and Toni shrank back into the gloom, totally incapable of facing them in her tear-stained and generallydishevelled condition. 

She breathed a prayer that they would not attempt to enter thesummer-house--a prayer which was answered, for the two ladies seatedthemselves on the bench outside, which was first wiped scrupulouslyclean by a large and substantial handkerchief wielded by the Vicar'swife. 

Her escape thus cut off, Toni had no choice but to remain silentlywithin. She supposed, forlornly, that she ought to make her presenceknown; but she felt it almost impossible to stir; and the first wordsshe heard kept her chained to her seat. 

"A sad pity, " Mrs. Madgwick was remarking in her unctuous voice. "Ialways felt there was something just a little--well, what shall I callit?--second-rate about the girl. Mr. Rose being a gentleman in everysense of the word makes the whole thing so much worse. "

"It does. " Lady Martin's thin lips tightened. "I too knew from the firstthat the young woman was not a lady--why, on the occasion of mywelcoming call I found her entertaining this very cousin to a repast oftea and shrimps--or was it periwinkles? Something vulgar, anyway, and Iam nearly sure I saw a plate of watercresses as well. "

"Dear me, " said the vicar's wife acidly. "What class does the girlspring from? I always thought it was only servants or shop-girls who atethings of that sort--with vinegar--for tea!"

"Well, we have Mrs. Rose's own word for it that her cousin is assistantin a shop. " Lady Martin laughed disagreeably. "I have no doubt Mrs. Rosewas employed in the same manner before her marriage. It is reallyremarkable what matches these pert shop girls make nowadays. Men seem toprefer them to our daughters, though it is hard to understand. "

"Hard? Impossible!" The Vicar's wife, thinking of her own plain andmiddle-aged daughters, spoke snappily. "As you say, no doubt Mrs. Rosewas some little shop-assistant----"

"Ah, no! I remember now!" Lady Martin spoke mysteriously, and Mrs. Madgwick looked up sharply. "Mrs. Rose was not in a shop. It was notthere that Mr. Rose met her. As a matter of fact she was his typist. "

"His typist! Ah!" Toni, listening breathlessly, could not fathom thesignificance of the lady's tone. 

"Of course he would never have married her if he had not been so soreabout Miss Rees. " Lady Martin spoke fluently. "I had the whole story ofthat affair from a friend of my daughter's who was intimately acquaintedwith Miss Rees. "

"But--who is--or was--Miss Rees?" The speaker little knew how Toniblessed her for putting the question. 

"The girl he should have married--the Earl of Paulton's niece. " LadyMartin paused a moment to brush away an inquisitive gnat. "It was quitea romantic affair, at first. Mr. Rose was devoted, positively devoted toher, and she is really a charming girl, handsome, accomplished, in everyway a contrast to the poor little creature he has married. "

"But why, if he were so devoted----"

"Didn't he marry her? Well, it seems he had a motor smash, knockedhimself up and had to go away for a time; and whether, as I have beentold, she was glad of the excuse to break her promise, or whether therewas some other reason, I don't know, but anyhow she threw him over andmarried Lord Saxonby without telling her first _fiancé_ a word aboutit. "

"And he took it to heart?" Mrs. Madgwick felt exhilarated by thisauthentic peep into the lives of the great ones of the earth. "Of courseit must be galling to be thrown over for another man--though when it isa Lord----"

"Well, a Lord's no worse than another man, " said Lady Martin ratherambiguously. "But they say there was a terrible scene--Mr. Rosereproaching the girl and threatening to kill Lord Saxonby, and makingall sorts of wild threats. My daughter's friend had a maid who had beenwith Lady Saxonby, and she told her all this. "

"Ah, then of course it's true. " Mrs. Madgwick, having a mind whichdelighted in gossip, did not quarrel with the source of information. "But I don't yet see why Mr. Rose married this girl. Surely there musthave been plenty of ladies he could have had. "

"Ah, but they all knew he'd been jilted, " said Lady Martin wisely. "Besides they say he had sworn to marry the first woman who would havehim, to get even with Miss Rees, you know, and I haven't a shadow ofdoubt this girl threw herself at his head. "

"Very likely, " agreed the Vicar's wife charitably. "Girls of that classare so pushing. But as a wife for Mr. Rose and the mistress ofGreenriver she is eminently unsuitable. "

"Dreadfully so, " sighed Lady Martin. "I feel so sorry for the poor mantied to a common, empty-headed little thing like that. They tell me sheis an absolute fool--and really in these days of evening classes andpolytechnics there is no excuse for such lamentable ignorance as shedisplays. I hear that when they go out to dinner she sits as dumb as afish--or else commits such shocking solecisms that her poor husbandblushes for her. "

"Really? I have had very little conversation with her, " said the otherwoman judicially. "And beyond noting her deplorable unsoundness onreligious matters I have had few opportunities of probing her mind. "

"Her mind? She hasn't one, " snapped Lady Martin. "She is one of thosemindless, soulless women who are simply parasites, clinging to men forwhat they can get--a home, money, position--and give nothing in returnbecause they have nothing to give. "

"It is indeed sad for Mr. Rose, " said Mrs. Madgwick compassionately. "Sodreadfully boring for a clever man to be hampered with a silly wife--andone with such unpresentable relations, too. What was her cousin like?Quite--quite, I suppose. "

"Oh, quite, " agreed Lady Martin. "A red-faced, blowsy young woman with alarge bust and a pinched-in waist. Just the sort of girl you'd expect tofind in a draper's shop in Brixton. But now, I really feel quite rested. Suppose we return to the Bazaar? I have one or two little purchases tomake, and possibly by now the things will be reduced in price. "

The Vicar's wife rose with alacrity, and the two ladies moved away, discussing the probable financial result of the Bazaar, and Toni wasleft alone with her new knowledge. 

CHAPTER XIV

At half-past five on that same afternoon Jim Herrick and his dog werestrolling across the meadows leading from the river to the village ofWillowhurst. 

The sky, which had been brilliantly blue all day, was beginning to beovercast, causing the energetic helpers at the Vicarage Bazaar to throwanxious glances towards the gathering clouds, and Herrick, who was afair weather-prophet, foresaw a storm before sunset. 

As he threw his leg over the stile leading into the last meadow, hepaused suddenly. 

Approaching him was Owen Rose's wife; and something in her mode ofprogress struck him as peculiar. She was coming along at a sort of fastwalk, breaking now and then into a few running steps, stumblingoccasionally and even stopping dead for a second before resuming herhurrying advance. 

Her eyes were downcast; and she was quite close to him before sherealized his presence. When she did look up he saw that she was crying, openly, sobbingly, as a child cries, the tears running in littlechannels over her cheeks and dropping unheeded where they would. 

Even when she saw that she was not alone, Toni could not check thosetreacherous tears; and something told Herrick that she was craving forsympathy, that here was no sophisticated woman of the world, to whom theencounter would spell annoyance, but a forlorn and solitary child cryingout its heart over some real or fancied tribulation, to whom a kindlyword, a friendly greeting would bring only comfort. 

He jumped off the stile and approached her, hat in hand. 

"Mrs. Rose? You're in trouble over something? Will you tell me what'swrong--perhaps I can help you somehow?"

To his relief he saw that his impression had been correct. She turned tohim desperately, like a child seeking consolation. 

"Mr. Herrick"--she sobbed out the words--"I'm so miserable--I don't knowwhat to do!"

"Come, that's bad!" He spoke kindly. "Well, suppose you rest here amoment and dry your eyes?"

She fumbled blindly in the front of her gown and then gave up the searchwith a childish wail. 

"I've not got a handkerchief--I've lost it somewhere!"

"Never mind, I have one. " He drew out a large silk square as yetunfolded, and pressed it into her hand. "There, use that--and then we'llhave a talk. "

She dried her eyes obediently, though fresh tears threatened to make herobedience futile; and then, still clinging to his handkerchief, sheleaned against the stile and tried to regain her self-control. 

"Well?" His tone, with its gentle sympathy, was balm to poor Toni's soreheart. "Come, little lady, what's the trouble? Let's see if we can'tfind a way out of it together. "

She turned her eyes on him as he spoke, and he was almost startled atwhat he read there; for surely there was a hint of almost womanlysuffering in their usually childish depths; and he knew intuitively thatthis was not the thoughtless, light-hearted girl he had previously knownas Toni Rose. 

"Mr. Herrick"--she spoke in a low voice, which in spite of all herefforts shook a little--"just now at the Vicarage Bazaar I heard LadyMartin and Mrs. Madgwick talking about me; and they said such terriblethings that I think my heart will break!"

"Oh, come, Mrs. Rose!" His tone had, as he intended, a bracing effect. "Hearts don't break so easily as that! Whatever those two chatterers mayhave said, you must not let it affect you so seriously. "

"They said I was common--and ill-bred--and ignorant. " The words startledher hearer, though she spoke them with a kind of dreary quietness whichwas not without pathos. "They said Owen only married me because somegirl--an earl's niece--had thrown him over and he wanted to get his ownback--they said he was ashamed of me, that he blushed for me when wewent out to dinner, and everyone pitied him for having such a common, empty-headed wife. "

"My dear Mrs. Rose----" For a moment Herrick's wits deserted him beneaththis recapitulation; and before he could hit on the right words, Tonihad begun again. 

"They said it was a pity for a clever man to be tied to an ignorantwife, that I bored him to death; and Lady Martin said I was a parasite, clinging to him for money and food, and that I had spoilt his life andruined his career----"

"Oh, that is nonsense!" Herrick shook off the mental paralysis which hadheld him tongue-tied, and spoke vigorously. "No man's life was everspoilt by the possession of a pretty, loving wife--like you. "

"Ah, but you don't understand. " She spoke drearily. "I _have_ been afool, I suppose. I was so happy myself that I never thought of Owen. Imean I just went on loving him--thinking he loved me. I didn't botherabout his work and his career--it never struck me I should be doing Owenharm by my ignorance. I knew I wasn't clever enough to help him, but Ithought that didn't matter so long as we were happy. .. . "

"But you _were_ happy?"

"I was. " A big tear rolled forlornly down her cheek. "It was solovely here--like a beautiful dream--the summer and the river and theroses . .. Every day was better than the last and I thought it wouldalways be like that . .. I had never dreamed I could be so happy . .. Itwas just like a fairy-tale, I used to think sometimes I was like anenchanted princess, living in a wonderful castle--with my prince. .. . " Hervoice sank to a whisper, and she gazed out over the flower-strewn meadowswith a wide-eyed glance which saw nothing. 

Herrick's big heart, which in spite of his life's tragedy held still aninfinite compassion for all weak and helpless things, was wrung withpity for this poor little creature, whose eyes had been opened socruelly to the fact that life was not all an enchanted fairyland; andwhen he spoke his deep voice was very gentle. 

"See here, little lady, you mustn't take all this to heart. These womenwere talking, you must remember, without any intimate knowledge of youraffairs; and we all know that gossip is eminently uncharitable. Besides, loyalty to your husband should make you believe in him and his love. "

"I do. " She stopped abruptly, then went on again more impetuously. "Butthe worst of it is, I believe it is true, what they said. I _am_ignorant and silly. I hate going out to parties; I never feel at ease, Imake foolish mistakes. Owen has been very kind, he has only laughed, butit must have been horrid for him to have such a foolish wife. At home, too . .. It's quite true I haven't helped him. I've been out all dayenjoying myself, and not bothering about his work. I did at first, and Imade such stupid blunders that he used to have to do it all over again. "

"Well, that's nothing. " He spoke lightly. "After all, you are not aliterary expert like your husband, and you can't be expected to do hiswork. "

"No. " She caught her white teeth fiercely in her lip. "But lots of womencould have helped him. This one they spoke of--they said she was clever, accomplished, just the sort of wife for a man like Owen--not a stupidlittle dummy like me. And"--she paused, and every tinge of colour fadedout of her face--"they said I was common--not a lady. Mr. Herrick, am Icommon? Am I--not a lady?"

With her eyes on his face, eyes full of a desperate hurt, Herrick felt awild, impotent desire to strangle the two mischief-makers who hadchanged this girl's joy into bitterness, had turned a child's enchantedcastle into a structure of pasteboard; but when he spoke his tone wasadmirably light. 

"My dear child, now you are talking absolute nonsense. Common? Well, tome commonness consists in common behaviour, mean tempers, a nasty, spiteful attitude of mind, a discontent with one's surroundings, a pettyjealousy of others--oh, I hate a common mind as much as anyone in theworld--but to use the word in connection with you is merely an abuse oflanguage and not to be treated seriously. "

She was half perplexed, half comforted. 

"But a lady, Mr. Herrick? Am I or am I not--a lady?"

"Well, " he said slowly, "that again depends on the use of the word. Mrs. Swastika, my excellent charwoman, is referred to by her friends as 'thelady who looks after that queer man in the bungalow'; and when my usualmilkman was taken ill the other day, my modest pint of milk was broughtby a pig-tailed girl who announced, 'I'm the young lady as takes roundMr. Piggott's milk when he's sick!' So that you see the term 'lady' iscapable of wide interpretation. "

"But _am_ I?" Her wistful tone craved for reassurance and Herrick gaveit promptly. 

"If by 'lady' you mean a woman who is fit to mix with any one in theland, yes, " he said. "Of course you are. "

She gave him a wan little smile, and dried away a few tears with the aidof his handkerchief. 

"I don't know where mine is, " she said, half-crying, half-laughing. "Imust have dropped it somewhere. "

"Or the Boo-Boos took it. " He smiled at her puzzled expression. "Don'tyou know those dreadful little people--the people who hide one's pencilsand one's handkerchiefs, put the clock back so that one misses one'strain--or an appointment--and invariably send an organ-grinder outsideone's window when one is hard at work and can't bear a noise!"

"But why do you call them Boo-Boos?" She might have been a child askingfor the explanation of a fairy-tale. 

"Well, they aren't Brownies, because _they_ are a good little folk. Andthe Pixies, though their tricks are much the same, pursue theiravocations out of doors on moor or hill; so that the only name I couldfind for them was just that--Boo-Boos!"

He laughed at her bewildered face. 

"Come, Mrs. Rose, don't you ever feel conscious of their teasingpresence? Don't you lose your hair-pins, or your brooches, or whatevercorresponds to our collar-studs? And have you never noticed how a penwith which you are about to sign an important document, a will orsomething of the kind, has changed mysteriously into a pencil--generallywithout a point--when you pick it up?"

He had succeeded in his intention. His nonsense had won her to a smile;and the eyes which a few moments before had looked like those of atortured woman were once again the eyes of a child. 

"Do you know, Mrs. Rose"--Herrick felt there was danger in prolongingthe situation once she had attained a comparative serenity--"I'm afraidit's going to rain! Don't you think we had better be moving homewards?"

She rose at once. 

"Just as you like. " She spoke with the utmost docility. "I suppose wehad better go. I haven't an umbrella--have you?"

"No--and your dress is thin. " He looked at her white gown, which had notbeen improved by her incarceration in the mouldy summer-house, andshowed traces of the dust and dirt of the bench on which she hadcrouched while the two women talked outside. Altogether Toni presented apathetic little figure; and Herrick felt a sudden desire to know hersafely at home, hidden from inquisitive eyes. 

He called Olga, who had been playing an enticing game of hunting quiteimaginary rabbits in the hedgerow; and when the great dog bounded up inobedience to his summons, he jumped over the stile and held out his handto help Toni. She climbed over rather lifelessly, catching her whiteskirt on a splinter of wood and tearing a rent which filled Herrick withdismay. 

"You've torn your pretty dress! What a shame--will it be quite spoilt?"

"Oh no, I can mead it, " she returned indifferently, "and any way itdoesn't matter. " To Toni nothing mattered just then. 

"That wretched splinter was to blame. I'm afraid I didn't notice it, " hesaid contritely. 

"Oh, it wasn't your fault. Perhaps it was one of your queer creatures, the Boo-Boos, " said Toni with a wintry attempt at a smile; and Herrickwas struck with the readiness with which she had adopted his whimsicaltheory. 

As they went across the fields beneath the now cloudy sky, he tried tokeep the conversation at the same light level; but although Toni stroveto adapt herself to his mood, it was evident that her thoughts werestill circling round the revelation which had shattered her fairycastle; and just as the chimneys of Greenriver came in sight above thetall tree-tops, she asked him a question which had been formulating inher mind throughout the walk homewards. 

"Mr. Herrick, do you think I could improve myself somehow--I mean couldI read some books, or do something to make myself a more suitable wifefor Owen? You know"--she caught her breath--"I can't bear for him to beashamed of me, or bored with me--and they said--those women, that he wasboth. "

For a second Herrick thought of treating the matter lightly, assuringher that what the women had said was of no importance whatever. Then heknew there was only one course open to him, and he met sincerity withsincerity, candour with candour. 

"It would be very easy for you to do a little reading, " he said quietly. "Of course a literary man like Mr. Rose forgets that everyone has nothis fine taste in books; and on the other hand, it is very easy toacquire a liking for poor stuff. But there are lots of authors who woulddelight you with their books, and if I can give you any help I shall becharmed to make you out a list. "

"Will you?" Her eyes lighted up for a second. "There are hundreds ofbooks in the house--the library is supposed to be rather remarkable, youknow, and I expect lots of the books you mean are there. "

"I've no doubt of it. " He remembered hearing of the unique collectionwhich Greenriver housed. "Tell me what sort of books you like? Travel, history, romance--what?"

The light died out of her eyes. 

"I don't know. " Her voice sounded flat. "I don't think I like anythingmuch--except stories. Novels, I mean, " she added hastily. 

"Well, there are plenty of very fine novels, " he said cheerily. "And noone need be ashamed of liking that form of story-telling. I always failto understand the attitude of the person who says 'I _never_ readnovels!' as though he were claiming a tremendous superiority, whereashe's only showing himself a narrow-minded and unimaginative person!"

"But reading novels won't make me clever?" said Toni rather wistfully. 

"Well, probably not, if you read nothing else, " he owned. "But there isplenty more stuff for you to read. What about poetry?"

She shook her head. 

"Well, you'll soon get to like it, " he said smiling. "You needn't fleshyour maiden sword in Browning, you know. Anyway, I will send you a list, shall I?--of books that I think you'll like. Can you read French?"

Blushing, she confessed her inability to do more than recognize a Frenchquotation here and there; and a new thought filled her mind. 

"Do you think if I were to study French, Mr. Herrick? I've got all myold books, and I could do an exercise every day. "

Herrick was half inclined to smile, but she was so desperately inearnest that he refrained. 

"A capital plan, " he said heartily, thinking to himself that the hardershe worked the less time she would have for fretting. 

"And if I got to know more poetry I might be able to help Owen with hisarticles, " she said, smiling happily, reassured by his friendly counsel. "Of course they were quite right--I _am_ stupid and ignorant, but if Iwork hard I think I ought to be able to make myself useful to Owen, oughtn't I, Mr. Herrick?"

"Don't work too hard, " he said, half jesting, half in earnest. "Youdon't want to turn yourself into a blue-stocking, do you? Don'tover-develop your brain at the expense of your heart and soul, as somany learned women have done--to their ultimate despair. "

"There's no fear of that. " Toni spoke in a low voice, and again hecaught a glimpse of something disconcerting in her clear eyes. "Thosewomen said I _had_ no soul. But that's nonsense, because everyone has asoul. "

"But not everyone realizes it, " he said. "Some people go through lifeand never know they have more than a body, which claims attention whilethe soul waits, yearningly, for recognition. "

He had spoken half to himself, his thoughts wandering for a moment fromthe girl beside him to another girl whose soul had been, to him atleast, as a sealed book. 

"I have been like that, " said Toni surprisingly. "But I have a soul--andfor Owen's sake I am going to prove it. Only"--she faltered find herbrave accents died away--"perhaps it is too late, after all. "

 * * * * *

And though, when he left her at her own door, refusing her invitation toenter, she had regained much of her usual manner, her last words hauntedHerrick all through the long, lonely evening. 

He knew quite well that there was a good deal of truth in the accusationbrought against the shrinking Toni. Although he lived a solitary life, it was impossible altogether to avoid contact with one's neighboursalong the river; and he had heard sundry bits of conversation concerningToni which went to prove that Owen Rose's choice of a wife was freelycriticized in the neighbourhood. People agreed that she was certainlysurprisingly pretty, but she did not belong to the class which filledall the big houses round about. The charitable said she was shy, themalicious called her _gauche_, without perhaps knowing exactly what theymeant; and everyone who had talked to her asserted that she had noconversation, and did not appear in the least a suitable wife for aclever man like Mr. Rose. 

"Poor little girl!" Herrick rose from his seat with a sigh at the end ofthe long, dreary evening. "I'm sorry for her--like the little mermaidenof Hans Andersen, she is ready--now--to dance upon knives for thepossession of a soul! Well, she'll win her soul all right, but God grantthe winning of it doesn't end in tragedy!"

He stood for a moment gazing into vacancy with a half-tender, half-cynical smile on his lips. Then he extinguished the lamp, calledOlga from her resting-place on the old divan, and went slowly to bed. 

CHAPTER XV

Herrick duly sent Toni a list of such books as he thought suitable forher purpose; and then began for Toni a succession of long and, if thetruth be told, tedious days spent, in Owen's absence, in the quiet, stately library, while the August sunshine streamed in through the bigmullioned windows, and turned the books, in their many-hued bindings, into pools of rich, dim colour, lighted here and there with the flash ofgold, the gleam of purple and scarlet. 

Toni used to wish, half-rebelliously, that the sun would not shine in sogloriously, turning the polished floor into a golden sea, and bathingher, as she sat at the table, in a flood of dancing sunbeams. 

It was so hard to sit there reading, trying in vain to dig out the heartof some book of old stories, sagas and the like, or strugglinghelplessly to understand a poem written in lovely but surelyincomprehensible metaphors, and full of words which, though she realizedtheir beauty, still conveyed little to her intelligence. 

Herrick had perhaps slightly over-estimated her powers. He had neverbefore come in contact with quite such an undeveloped mind. His ownmarried life had been too short for him to grasp fully thecharacteristics of his wife, and although in some respects she had notbeen unlike Toni, she had been differently educated. Her mind hadperhaps little depth, but she was quick and versatile; and owing to hersurroundings she had been able, always, to adopt the shibboleth of thesocial set to which she belonged by right of birth. 

So it was that Herrick, with all his sympathy, all his intuition, failedto plumb the shallows of Toni's mind. He gave her Rossetti when heshould have given her Ella Wheeler Wilcox; and George Eliot when heshould have introduced her to Jane Austen and her gentle sister, MissBurney. The "Idylls of the King, " clothed in Tennyson's poetic garments, would have won her interest--instead he advised her to read Malory, andread him she obediently did, until her brain ached with the clash ofswords, and her eyes were wearied with the glitter of the dragons'scales or the silver mail of the knights who fought to the death for thedamsels they served. 

Knowing her love of outdoor life, he sent her to Borrow, but even"Lavengro" failed to charm the lonely student, to whom the sun, themoon, the stars were all "sweet things" indeed, when no printed pageintervened between her and their sweetness. 

It was weary work, toiling there day after day, while the river flashedand gleamed in the sunlight, and Jock ran barking hither and thitherunder the windows, as though imploring her to leave those musty hauntsand come to chase the elusive yellow sunbeams on the lawn. 

At first she had been used to take the big, high-backed chair at thehead of the table, and spreading out her books, refuse to cast so muchas a look at the sunny world without; but after four or five mornings sospent she gave in suddenly and betook herself to the little table in thewindow, where from her seat she could watch the tall white liliesswaying in the breeze, or catch the fragrance of the mauve and scarletsweet-peas which climbed their hedge just out of sight. 

It was weary work, and Toni's eyes and head ached when the luncheon-bellrang to set her free from her self-imposed task; but she did not givein, and after her hasty meal she would return to the library andstruggle till tea-time with half a dozen French exercises, which by theaid of a key she sternly corrected when finished. 

When Owen arrived home, shortly before dinner, Toni was worn out withthe combined effects of her mental exertions and her lack of fresh air;but Owen, who was turning over in his mind the material for a novel, wasnot in a mood to notice her unwonted silence, and was relieved when, after dinner, she went early to bed and set him free to spend theevening in his sanctum, making notes and generally planning out the bookhe felt he could write. 

To the novelist there comes, at the inception of a book, a period inwhich the things and people around him recede into the background beforethe people and things he seeks to create; and it is scarcely to bewondered at if at these times the writer's vision, which is turned, soto speak, inward, fails to realize the significance of the scenes beingenacted beneath his mortal eyes. 

And it was so with Owen. During that strenuous fortnight of Toni'slaborious study, Owen was so fully occupied with the visions of hisbrain that he had little time to spare for the flesh and blood inmate ofhis home; and though he was always kind to Toni, he did not notice thatthe laughter was absent from her lips, the joyful light of happinessquenched in her eyes. 

The idea of his book was beginning to absorb him very thoroughly. Hitherto he had never had the time to devote to purely imaginative work;but now that the _Bridge_ was going ahead and his series of articles foroutside papers was finished, he felt the call of fiction very strongly. 

His story was concerned with the conflict between East and West, withthe life of an Indian prince who, after his English education, wascalled upon to rule his dead father's kingdom; and Owen's impressions ofIndia, gathered during a stay of some months in that magic land, formeda brilliant setting for the half-political, half-romantic story he hadto tell. 

Barry, who was, of course, in the secret, was intensely interested inthis new departure; and had no doubt whatever as to the certainty ofOwen's success. Indeed Owen himself was surprised at the ease with whichhe did work he felt to be good. By nature a critic, he would have beenthe first to detect signs of carelessness, of over-fluency even in hisown writing; but the narrative, with its felicitous turns of expression, its lucid, clear-cut phrases, slipped naturally from his pen; and hefelt to the full the truth of Stevenson's couplet:

 "Bright is the ring of words When the right man rings them. "

One afternoon Owen invited Barry to motor down and dine with them atGreenriver; and Barry accepted the invitation with alacrity, for he hadnot seen Toni for some weeks and was anxious to know how life wastreating her. 

He hurried over his work for the afternoon, and Miss Loder, thesecretary whose services he and Owen shared in common, was secretlysurprised, not to say shocked, by his flippant behaviour over amonograph supplied by a valued contributor. 

"It's a bit stodgy, eh, Miss Loder? You can feel the ecclesiastical handupon the pen-holder, can't you?"

Miss Loder was the daughter of a clergyman, whose large family had allbeen educated with a view to doing some sort of work in the world, andas was only natural she resented the implied censure on the Church. 

"If purity of English and clarity of thought are stodgy, Mr. Raymond, Isuppose you are right. But what a treat this is after the article ofyoung Bright's! That was hardly in keeping with the tone of the_Bridge_, if you like!"

"Young Bright's article--why, Miss Loder, it was a gem! It was whimsicalin tone, I grant you, perhaps here and there a trifle frivolous, but itwas splendid in its way. It simply sparkled with wit and a kind ofdelicate satire. "

"You thought so? I'm afraid I didn't. " Miss Loder, who at Cambridge hadbeen known as an excellent debater, closed the subject by her tone; andBarry smiled quietly at her self-sufficiency. 

Truth to tell, he had never much liked Miss Loder. While admitting herabsolute competency for the post--for she was in her way a brilliantyoung woman--he found her unsympathetic, narrow-minded, wedded to herown standards of thought and behaviour; and he was wont to assert thather clear grey eye struck terror to his soul. 

Miss Loder had been intended for a scholastic career: but although shehad passed through her College life with distinction, she found thatafter all teaching was not her vocation. 

She was absolutely devoid of patience, and wanting in the tact, thekindly firmness, the warm sympathy, which go to equip the perfectteacher; and although she might have a subject at her very finger-tips, so to speak, she found it almost impossible to hand on her knowledge sothat her class might share it with her. 

Once she realized the fact, Miss Loder very wisely withdrew from thefield in which she was unable to shine; and since the death of herfather had rendered it imperative that she find some remunerative workwithout delay, she was glad to accept the post which Owen offered herthrough a mutual friend. 

Having once intended to take up journalism, she was conversant with themysteries of typewriting and shorthand, and her excellent classicaleducation rendered her particularly fitted for the post of secretary tothe editor of the _Bridge_ and his coadjutor, Barry Raymond. Her ownliterary taste was admirable, if a trifle academic; and Owen found her areally useful person with whom to discuss the various departments of hisbeloved review. 

In appearance, Miss Loder was of middle height, with good features, greyeyes of an almost disconcerting frankness, and fair hair which sheparted on her forehead and coiled neatly round her head. She wastwenty-nine years of age, but looked younger; and she generally wore awell-cut grey skirt and severely plain white shirt, which somehow suitedher rather boyish appearance. 

At five o'clock on this particular afternoon Barry bade her good-day, and joined Owen in the street outside the office, where the big motorstood throbbing impatiently beneath its owner's hand. 

"Jump in, Barry. If we have a good run we might take Toni on the riverfor an hour. Poor little girl, I'm afraid I've rather neglected herlately. "

Barry took his seat, and under Owen's skilful guidance they were soonout of the City tumult, speeding smoothly away in the direction ofRichmond. 

It was just beyond Staines that the accident happened. 

Through no fault of his own Owen collided with a badly-steered motornegotiating a sharp bend; and though no one else was injured it wasdiscovered, after all was over, that Owen had sustained a fracture ofthe right arm. 

The owner of the other car, who was only too palpably a novice in theart of driving, confounded himself in apologies. He was indeed somanifestly upset and distressed to find what his carelessness had done, that in the midst of his own natural annoyance Owen found time to assurehim of his complete forgiveness; and the irony of the situation was madeevident when it leaked out that the offender was a surgeon, resident inthe district, who practised the art of motoring in his spare moments. 

He insisted on Owen returning with him to receive all the care andattention his medical skill could supply; and thus it was that when thecar, driven by Barry, finally drew up in front of the hall door ofGreenriver, Toni, running down the steps to greet her husband and hisvisitor, was startled to observe Owen, a trifle pale, descend from thecar with his right arm supported in a black silk sling. 

"Owen!" Every vestige of colour died out of Toni's face. "What hashappened? You've had an accident!"

"Nothing much, dear!" He spoke reassuringly. "Collided with another caroutside Staines, and I've broken my stupid arm. But that's all. "

"Quite enough, " struck in Barry, smiling. "No one else was hurt, Mrs. Rose--not even the old idiot who was to blame. "

"It's nearly dinner-time, I suppose, " said Owen, looking up at the hallclock. "We started early to take you on the river, Toni, but I'm afraidit's too late now. "

"And you're disabled, " said Barry. "You'll be dependent on our goodoffices for your dinner; won't he, Mrs. Rose?"

And so it proved, for like a good many people Owen felt utterly at aloss with only one available hand. To Toni fell the task of cutting uphis food, and her big eyes grew anxious as she noted his lack ofappetite. 

As a matter of fact Owen felt disinclined for food, for anything butsolitude and rest. His head was aching, and his arm was beginning topain him so severely that he feared sleep would be out of the question. 

After dinner he yielded to the joint entreaties of Toni and Barry andwent to bed; leaving his wife to entertain his guest until the carshould come round to take him to the station. 

The evening had closed in with rain, and the two sat by one of thewidely-opened windows in the drawing-room, looking out into the duskygarden, and listening to the soft patter of the rain on the foliagebordering the lawn. There was no wind, and against the cloudy sky thetall trees stood like black giants holding out immovable arms, whilefrom the flowers, refreshed by the shower after their hot, thirsty day, a grateful fragrance rose to sweeten the damp, cool air. 

For some time Barry and his hostess sat in silence. Toni had taken herfavourite low chair, and her hands lay idly in her lap, the wedding-ringwhich was their sole ornament gleaming in the lamplight. To Barry's eyesher youthful prettiness had a slightly dimmed effect. Without losinganything of its virginal purity of outline there was a hint ofweariness, of almost jaded fatigue, which startled Barry. He thoughtalways of Toni as some joyous woodland nymph, a pagan it might be, ahedonist by nature and training; and while he had regretted, formerly, her lack of worldly and womanly experience, it gave him something of apang at heart to find that this little pagan creature, this pretty, wild, untutored Undine could apparently lose, for the moment at least, her joy in the "sweet things" of life. That in the process she might beslowly and painfully realizing her soul he did not stop to think. To himthe fatigue in her face was pathetic; to Herrick it would have beenenlightening. 

"Mr. Raymond----" Toni spoke at last, and he threw off his absorption tolisten. "If Owen's arm is broken, how will he do his work?"

"That is just what I've been wondering, " said Barry. "Of course theordinary office work, the work of the _Bridge_, will go on all rightwithout him for a bit. I mean--well, you see I can look after thingspretty well, and we have an excellent secretary in Miss Loder. "

"But his own work? He is writing a book--a novel, isn't he? He saidsomething about it--though he hasn't read any of it to me, " added Tonirather wistfully. 

"I don't suppose he's got very far, " said Barry, wondering whether shefelt slighted by the omission. "Owen is a quick worker, I know, but hehas only been at it for a week or two. "

"Oh, I know, " she replied hastily. "But how will he go on with it? Hecan't write with his left hand, can he?"

"Not very well. " An idea struck Barry, and without stopping to think hegave it utterance. "Look here, Mrs. Rose, you can help Owen no end! Youmust take it down for him. You could easily scribble it off and thentype it out afterwards, couldn't you?"

Into Toni's eyes flashed a light of pure joy. 

"Oh, do you think I could! I'd do anything--anything to help Owen, " shesaid eagerly. "It wouldn't be like his articles, full of quotations andthings that want verifying, would it? I mean even a stupid girl--likeme--could do it, couldn't she?"

"You're not stupid, " he rallied her gaily. "Look how quickly you learnedto read proof! And even the superior Miss Loder doesn't type as well asyou!"

"Doesn't she!" Toni's depression had vanished like magic, and her eyeswere sparkling as she looked at him. "Oh, if I could! But I don'tbelieve I dare offer, Mr. Raymond! Do you think if _you_ were to mentionit to Owen----"

"Oh, it would come much better from you!" Barry, whose interference onthe subject of Owen's marriage had not been too well received, shrankfrom further officiousness. "If you propose it, I'm sure Owen will jumpat it; and he won't mind his enforced helplessness half so much if hecan get on with the book. "

For a moment Toni said nothing. 

The rain had ceased, and in the darkened sky one or two pale-gold starswere gleaming. The air was full of sweet, moist scents; and a big whiteowl flew by the window, looking weird and ghostly in the dusk. A momentlater they heard him hoot from his eyrie in one of the tall tree-tops, and Toni shivered a little. 

"I can't get used to their queer cries, " she said in a low voice. "Sometimes I hear them in the night, and they make me shudder. Owenlaughs at me, and quotes Shakespeare, about the owl and the baker'sdaughter, but I hate them, all the same. "

"I rather like them, " said Barry lightly. "Anyway, you mustn't drivethem away; it's the very worst of luck to turn them out of theiraccustomed dwelling-places!"

"Then, they'll have to stop, I suppose, " said Toni practically. "But Ishall go on hating them all the same!"

Barry laughed and turned the conversation back to her proposedcollaboration with Owen; and Toni was only too eager to discuss thesubject, which lasted, indeed, until Barry said good-bye. 

His last glimpse of her was as she stood on the steps calling out herfarewell; and he carried away a clearly-cut impression of the slight, blue-robed figure, her black hair a little loosened round her eager, vivid face, her eyes full of a new and ardent resolution, which hadquite banished the look of sadness and fatigue he had noticed earlier inthe evening. 

It was evident his suggestion had fired her heart and mind, and for amoment, as he was borne swiftly down the black avenue on to the highroad, Barry asked himself if he had done well to light that lamp of hopeand high desire in her soul. 

If Owen should refuse her aid, if he should let her see that he had nodesire for help from her, no exportation of any adequate service, theflame which Barry's words had lit would be cruelly extinguished, leavingin its place only the blank and utter darkness of disillusionment. 

And once removed from her beseeching presence, Barry wondered, ratherhopelessly, if indeed Toni's help would be of any value. She was ready, eager indeed, to be of use; but was she capable of work such as Owenwould require?

Against his will Barry had a vision of Miss Loder in Toni's place--notas wife, but as assistant--and he confessed to himself with a groan thatthe highly-finished product of school and college would probably proveherself of far more practical use than the impulsive, emotional, andalas! unliterary Toni. 

But the harm was done now. He had lighted the torch in Toni's soul, andhe could only hope that no adverse breath would blow to extinguish itsflame. 

CHAPTER XVI

"Toni, I have a proposal to make. Suppose you stop typing for a littlewhile and listen to me. Will you, dear?"

Toni, all the colour slipping out of her face, put down the sheet shehad just taken up and waited obediently to hear Owen's proposal. 

This was the ninth day of their mutual labour; and even Toni's optimismcould not assert that the experience had been successful. 

She had tried so hard, poor Toni. With every nerve strained to theutmost, with her mind emptied of anything which did not bear upon thesubject in hand, she had striven to help Owen, to take down fromdictation the words, the sentences, in which his thoughts were clothed. 

She had learned not to look up expectantly at every pause, since she hadrealized that to the harassed author, struggling for the one rightphrase, that bright expectancy exercised a deadening effect; and shenever even raised her head when silence fell--the silence in which Owenweighed and sifted his material, selecting this, rejecting that, andembodying the result in just the one glowing, clean-cut sentence whichwould effectually tell. 

But Toni found herself, all unwillingly, handicapped, by hernon-comprehension both of the matter and method of Owen's creative work. 

A plain, straightforward story Toni could assimilate easily enough. Something primitive in her responded, also, to the call of theworld-wide emotions of love, hatred, revenge; but Owen's book dealt withnone of these; and the subtle philosophy, the carefully interwovenmotives of political expediency and half-reluctant patriotism were alikeuninteresting and unintelligible. 

Where she did not understand, it was natural she should transcribeincorrectly; and although it was easy for Owen to revise the typewrittenscript after each day's labours, he was perpetually checked in hisstride, as it were, by the necessity of repeating or explaining someincident or allusion by which Toni was frankly puzzled. 

Naturally, too, the girl was nervous; and Owen's habit of striding toand fro as he dictated made things, as she said desperately to herself, far worse. In vain she quickened her pace in a wild attempt to keep upwith him. Faster and faster went her pen, more and more indistinct grewthe scribbled words; and in the hour of stress all ideas of spelling andpunctuation took to themselves wings and fled. 

But worse even than her comparative failure with the merely mechanicalportion of the work was her mental inability to follow the working ofOwen's mind. Handicapped by the necessity of dictating his book, theauthor often found himself at a standstill for some word which eludedhim; and although he encouraged Toni to make suggestions, it was veryseldom that she ventured to do so. The work went badly in consequence. Owen used to think sometimes that if Toni's mind had been more attunedto his, if they had shared ideas, had held the same standard in fiction, he might have gained something from this enforced collaboration; but asthings were it became an irritation, effectually stopping the flow ofhis ideas; and although he did his best to keep Toni in ignorance of hisfeelings, she was bound to realize that the work was progressing in alame and halting fashion. 

Therefore she was not surprised when Owen broke it to her, gently, thathe was thinking of a change of secretary. 

"You see, dear, "--he spoke very kindly, feeling indeed very pitifultowards the girl, whose fluctuating colour showed her mentaldisturbance--"this sort of work demands a special training. You aredoing your best, I know, and I am very grateful to you, but you can see, can't you, that I am getting on badly?"

"Yes, Owen. " She spoke very slowly, and for a moment Owen wonderedwhether it would be possible to continue the present arrangement. Thencommon sense and creative ardour combined to utter a decided negative, and feeling himself to be brutal he hurried on. 

"Unfortunately I shan't be able to use my arm for some weeks. Thatstupid old doctor ought to pay my secretary's fees, oughtn't he, sincehe's responsible for my helplessness!"

He laughed; but Toni said nothing, and after waiting a second hecontinued:

"You've been most awfully good and patient, dear, and I'm afraid I'vebeen horribly irritable over the job. But I don't think it's any goodour going on. I'm wearing you out, and losing a lot of time into thebargain. "

"You are going on with the book?"

"Of course, yes. " His matter-of-fact assent caused poor Toni a pang. "But I think I shall have to borrow Miss Loder from the office for a fewweeks. She is used to the job, you know. She told me she had once takendown an eighty-thousand-word book, typed it, and seen it through thepress, because the author was nearly blind. So she would really know allabout the work. "

"Yes. " Toni wondered, dully, why the sunshine which poured over her heldno warmth to-day. 

"Well, I'll drop a line to Barry and ask him if he can spare her for abit. There's a rather smart typist in one of the other rooms could takeher place, and I might not want her for very long. As far as the bookitself is concerned, I can't work fast enough to get it all done. "

"Yes. " Sitting there, repeating the word, parrot-wise, Toni looked veryforlorn; and something in her attitude struck Owen with a perhapsexaggerated feeling of remorse. 

"Well, that's settled, " he said cheerfully, "and after this you needn'tlose your roses sitting indoors so much. I'll tell you what--let's havea day off, shall we?"

She nodded, hoping he would not see the tears in her eyes. 

"Right. We'll have the car--Fletcher will have to drive--and go for agood long run into the country. We'll have lunch out and get back fordinner. You'll like that?"

"Very much. " She rose. "I'll go and get ready, shall I?"

"Yes. We'll start at once. By Jove, I shall enjoy a holiday myself!"

Throughout the day Owen surrounded Toni with an atmosphere of kindnesswhich he trusted might dispel the soreness he guessed she wasexperiencing; but somehow he failed in his object. 

Although the day was superb, a still, golden August day, when the summerseemed to pause, arrested in its flight by the fulness of perfection towhich it had brought the land, neither Owen nor Toni was sorry to returnto Greenriver. As the car stopped in front of the door Toni cast arather wistful look at the jasmine-covered old house she had learned tolove; and for a moment she felt as though she saw herself as those otherwomen had seen her--the ignorant, frivolous, common little person whomOwen had married out of pique. 

Never in all her life had Toni felt so humble as on this evening, whenshe entered the house which was her home. What had she in common withthe beautiful old hall, with the broad staircase leading to the spaciousgallery, lighted now by the Ten Little Ladies, whose light pierced thegloom like so many kindly little stars?

The pictures, the bowls of roses, all the inanimate things she had grownto look upon as friends--it seemed to her to-night that they lookedcoldly to her, resenting her presence as an interloper; and in onequeer, horrible flash of insight Toni seemed to visualize the woman whoshould have been the _châtelaine_ of Greenriver--a tall, dignified, beautiful woman, with the bearing of a princess. .. . 

"What's the matter, dear?" Owen had seen her shiver. "Are you cold? Yetit's a warm night. "

"No, thank you, I'm not cold. " She spoke gently. "I--I think I'm alittle tired. "

She picked up a brown envelope from the table. 

"Look, Owen, here's a telegram for you. "

"So there is. Open it for me, will you, dear?"

She did so and handed him the flimsy paper. His eyes brightened as heread. 

"Good old Barry! He's wasted no time--Miss Loder will come downto-morrow by the ten o'clock train. I must send the car. "

He went out and spoke to the chauffeur, returning to say: "Will youarrange for some lunch to be sent up every day, Toni? She can get off bythe four train, I daresay, and that will give us a good long time forwork. "

"I will see to it, " Toni said quietly. 

"Thanks, dear. Let me see, there's half an hour before dinner. I mightgo and put everything in order as far as we've gone, so that we canstart fair. I mustn't waste her time when she gets here. "

"No. Of course not. "

Although she tried to speak casually, a note in her voice struck Owenrather unpleasantly. He looked at her sharply in the lamplight; andsomething in her child-like attitude, as she stood motionless, her handshanging by her sides, gave him a sudden twinge of something likereproach. 

He looked round quickly. They were alone, and acting on impulse Owenstooped, and putting his left hand under her chin, tilted her faceupwards until their eyes met. 

"Come, Toni. " He had seen the tears in those wistful eyes of hers. "What's the matter? You are not hurt about the work, are you? If youwould rather not have the woman, say so, and we will go on as we havebeen doing. It will get easier in time. "

"Oh no!" Toni spoke quickly, though her lips quivered. "Indeed I'm nothurt. I--I'm sorry I'm such a fool. I'm only a hindrance to you insteadof a help. "

Although he had no conception of the wound dealt to her by twothoughtless women, Owen realized that she was in earnest; that sheunderstood, and regretted, her failure to give him the help he needed;and for perhaps the first time since his marriage Owen pitied his wifesincerely. After all, it was he, not she, who was to blame; and beingstill in the dark, Owen thanked God that at least she had no idea he hadmarried her without giving her the love she had had a right to expect. 

"Hush, Toni dear. " He held her to him with his sound arm. "After all, Iwant you for my wife, not my typist. Miss Loder may be able to do thework I want done better than you, because she's used to it; but you'remy wife, Toni, and what does anything else matter?"

He did not know whether his words brought her any comfort. She smiled, faintly, and returned the kiss he gave her before he let her go; butwhen she was alone in her quiet room Toni wept till she could weep nomore. 

She hated Miss Loder from the first. 

Her self-possessed manner, her cool, grey eyes, above all the suggestionof competency which lurked in every line of her trim, well-tailoredfigure, all alike filled Toni with a sharp sense of resentment which shefelt to be both childish and stupid. 

Without perhaps intending it, Miss Loder conveyed a sense ofsuperiority. Toni was made to feel that this newcomer knew just why shehad been sent for--understood that it was in reality to Toni'sincapacity that she owed her present position; and Toni felt, with amiserable intensity, that Miss Loder looked upon her as some brilliantsixth-form girl would survey a kindergarten child, with a kindly, half-amused, half-contemptuous tolerance. 

Never had Toni so desperately longed to be clever as during that firstweek of Miss Loder's secretaryship; and never had she felt herself to beso ignorant, so childish, so futile a companion for a man like Owen. 

At first Miss Loder had eaten her lunch in solitude. It was Toni'ssuggestion that she should join them in the dining-room, and Owen, supposing that Toni felt it a little discourteous to condemn the otherwoman to a lonely meal, agreed cordially to the plan. 

Over her luncheon Miss Loder laid aside her rather scholastic, manner, and talked pleasantly in a quite refreshingly frivolous way; but try asshe might Toni never felt at ease in her presence; and gradually shedropped out of the conversation until she sat for the greater part ofthe meal in silence. 

Owen, absorbed in his book, did not notice her taciturnity, and thoughhe responded politely to Miss Loder's chatter, it was evident he was notcaptivated by her undoubted social gifts to the extent of forgetting thepurpose of her presence. 

As for Miss Loder, Toni had guessed her attitude towards Mr. Rose's wifecorrectly enough. To the clever, highly-trained mind of the Girton girlToni's whole personality was so appallingly feeble. 

"The brains of a hen, and the soul, probably, of a chorus-girl. " So MissLoder, quite unjustly, summed up Toni. "Married the man to get out of alife of drudgery, I expect, and is as much of a companion to her husbandas a pretty little Persian cat would be. Why _will_ these nice men marrysuch nonentities, I wonder? She is bound to be a drag on him all herdays. "

For all her shrewdness Miss Loder never dreamed that her estimation ofToni was clearly evident to the person concerned. In her fatally orderlymind Toni was classified as a "type"--the type of the pretty, useless, childish wife; and Miss Loder never looked for any variation of the typewhen once she had labelled the specimen. 

That his now secretary did her work admirably Owen realized with intensegratitude. For all her modern self-assertiveness Miss Loder was cleverenough to realize that in Owen she had met her intellectual master; andbeing at heart a veritable woman she never attempted to challenge thesupremacy of the masculine mind. 

The work progressed quickly; and gradually, as the fascination of hiswork grew upon him, Owen became more and more absorbed in his book. Hewas always planning some incident, rehearsing, mentally, some situationor some telling dialogue; and the outer life around him receded into adim and misty distance, in which Toni's pathetic little figure wasalmost lost. 

Toni did not give in easily. She made feeble tentative attempts to sharehis author's rapture. She asked him timid little questions, to which hegave smilingly vague answers; and once she even suggested that he shouldread to her the chapters he had already finished. 

Owen refused, quite gently, but inexorably; and Toni felt a miserablecertainty that he did not think her capable of understanding orappreciating his work. 

The day this happened she ordered the car and went for a long andsolitary excursion into the country. Of late she had not used the car, preferring to hang wretchedly about the house and garden, half-resentingthe absorption of the two workers shut up in the library, not daring tointerrupt their toil, yet longing, vaguely, for the courage to enterboldly and claim her share of the mutual labour. 

But to-day she felt that she could stand the house no longer. A greatdesire was upon her for the sunny places of the earth, and in herpresent mood the slow, gliding traffic of the river held for her noattraction. She longed for the swift, exhilarating rush through the airwhich, the car would give her; and Fletcher took her orders withalacrity. 

"A long round--yes, ma'am. " He deliberated. "It's not three yet, and Isuppose you don't care to be 'ome much before dinner-time?"

"No, I want to be out for hours, " she said feverishly, and Fletcher wasonly too pleased to oblige her. 

Even Toni's depression could not hold beneath the tonic of that gloriousride. It was a splendid September day, when the country lay bathed infloods of rolling sunshine, and there was just enough bite in the air toset the blood racing through one's veins, and bring the sparkle to one'seyes. 

Toni sat upright in the car, gazing out over the golden fields to themisty hills beyond, and everything she saw filled her with the true andvivid happiness which the lover of the "sweet things" of the earth knowsso well. 

A field of yellow corn ablaze with scarlet poppies, a group of treesamong which the copper beech blazed with a glory as of the sunset, aglimpse of a wide common all aflame with sweet-scented gorse . .. Now andagain a hint of the river flashing and sparkling beneath the shiningsky--Toni, the ignorant, despised Toni, knew how to appreciate theglories of the earth as the brilliant Millicent Loder could never do. 

On and on they rushed. Fletcher, who in common with the other servantsrespected Owen and adored Toni, was only too glad to please his youngmistress by taking her far afield; and he utilized his wide knowledge ofthe countryside in her service, treating Toni indeed to such a panoramaof the fertile country as she had never yet been privileged to behold. 

They were running through a little village on their homeward way when atyre burst with a loud report; and Fletcher pulled up with an expressionof dismay. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am--I shall have to delay you a bit while I put on a newtyre. " He looked round him rather doubtfully. "I suppose you wouldn'tcare to take a cup of tea while I put it right?"

"Mrs. Rose!" A cyclist had halted by the car, and looking up Toni sawHerrick standing beside her. "Had an accident? Nothing serious, I hope. "

"Tyre burst, sir, " announced the chauffeur, who with the rest of thevillage looked upon the shabby inhabitant of the Hope House as aharmless eccentric. "I was just asking my mistress if she would care tohave some tea while I repair it. "

"A capital idea, " said Herrick, whose amused eyes saw quite well thechauffeur's estimate of him. "Mrs. Rose, may I take you to get some tea?One of these cottages will supply it, I daresay--or there is quite adecent little inn over yonder. "

"Thanks very much. " Toni was thirsty, and she liked Herrick. "I'd lovesome tea--if you'll have some too. "

"To be sure I will. " He propped his bicycle carelessly against a fenceand opened the door of the car. "Which shall we try? A cottage or theinn?"

In the end they decided for the inn; and leaving Fletcher to set towork, Herrick escorted Toni down the village street to the door of theold-fashioned inn which called itself, rather ambiguously, the "Cock andBottle. "

The landlady, who spoke with a Northern burr which made, Herrick glancecuriously at her, came bustling into the flagged passage to greet them, and when she had taken their order for tea she ushered them into theparlour with a hospitable smile. 

"I'll fetch tea in a minute, " said she, "t' kettle's boilin' an' I've acake on the griddle just about fit. "

When she had gone Toni turned two perplexed eyes on Herrick. 

"Mr. Herrick, what does she mean? Does the cake fit the griddle, orwhat?"

Herrick laughed lustily. 

"Oh, you Londoner--you poor little Southern kid! Haven't you ever beenin Yorkshire--good old Yarkshire, as they call it--the country of tykesand gees and men that can't be beat?"

"Oh, is that Yorkshire!" Toni coloured with excitement. "Mr. Herrick, myfather came from there! All his people did--but they're dead now, andI've never been North!"

"Really?" He was to the full as much interested in the coincidence asshe. "Well, our good landlady is certainly a Yorkshire woman--and I hopeshe'll give us a real Yorkshire tea!"

His hope was fulfilled when the buxom Mrs. Spencer returned, which shespeedily did. She carried a tray laden not only with cups and saucers, but with an assortment of cakes which would have rejoiced the heart of aYorkshire child. 

"Them's crud cheesecakes, " said she, beaming on the pair, "an' these fatrascals is to-day's bake--and the griddle cakes an' all. " She laid thetable deftly. "I'll fetch the tea-pot and t' cream, and then ye can helpyersens. "

When she put down the tea-pot, however, Herrick detained her with aquestion. 

"You don't belong to these parts, Mrs. Spencer?"

"No, sir. " She shook her head blithely. "I'm a Yorkshire woman, praisethe pigs! Married a South-country man, I did--and often wished as I'adn't--when 'e wur alive, that's to say. "

"Since his demise you've altered your mind?"

"Well, he left me pretty well provided for, " returned the late Spencer'swidow comfortably, "an' I won't say as 'e wur an out-an-out bad 'usband. But somehow I can't abide South-country folk. "

"They say we Yorkshire tykes are a rough lot, " said Herrick, smiling, and she took up the challenge at once. 

"Oh, that's all my eye and Betty Martin, " she returned in the vernacularof her youth, "I grant you there's a lot of soft-sawder about thefellers down here, but they ain't in it wi' us up in Yorkshire. "

"Where do you come from, Mrs. Spencer? I'm a dalesman myself;Wensleydale's my native land. "

"I'm from Thirsk, sir. My mother was washerwoman to lots of the gentryround, and my people still lives there, in a cottage on the Green. "

"Ah, I know Thirsk--fine old church there, one of the finest in theNorth Riding. You've never been there, Mrs. Rose?" He turned to includeToni in the conversation, and found her wide-eyed and flushed withexcitement. 

"Mr. Herrick, my people lived near Thirsk--in a farm at Feliskirk in thehills. Oh, do you think she knew them?"

Mrs. Spencer, who had hitherto overlooked Toni, turned to her insurprise. 

"If you'll tell me the name, miss--ma'am. We knew most of t' people int' neighbourhood. "

"Gibbs--their name was Gibbs. " She spoke breathlessly. "The house wascalled the Green Farm. Oh, do you know anything about them?"

"Gibbs? The Green Farm?" Mrs. Spencer stared incredulously. "Why, I knewold Gregory Gibbs well--and a fine old fellow he was too. And Fred andRoger--why, I knew 'em both. They used to come down into t' town onmarket days with their dad, and a pair of jolly little lads they werean' all--especially Roger. "

"Roger was my father, " said Toni quietly, and Mrs. Spencer uttered anexclamation. 

"You don't say! But Roger, he ran away--leastways e went off to furrinparts and we 'eard as 'ow 'e'd married an Heyetalian young lady outthere. And you are really Roger Gibbs' bairn?"

"Yes; he married my mother--an Italian girl--in Naples. I was bornthere. But they're both dead now, " said Toni sadly. 

"Oh, I'm sorry to 'ear that!" Mrs. Spencer spoke sincerely. "To think asI should live to see young Roger's lass 'ere in my 'ouse! You don'tfavour the Gibbs, miss, if I may say so. "

"No, Mrs. Rose is more like her mother's people, I expect, " saidHerrick, noticing as he spoke how pale Toni looked now that the flush ofexcitement had died away. "But if she has never been to Yorkshire, atleast she can taste her native cakes, eh, Mrs. Spencer?"

Thus reminded of her duties Mrs. Spencer bustled away to find some"preserve, " which was only brought out for specially honoured guests;and Toni took the seat Herrick placed for her at the table. 

"You'll pour out for us? That's right. I'm afraid our good landlady willwant to stay and chatter! Do you mind?"

"Oh, no--do let her stay and talk about my people!" pleaded Toni, andthis Mrs. Spencer was very ready to do. 

Standing by the table, resting her empty tray on her ample hip, shepoured forth a stream of disjointed memories to which Toni listenedeagerly. Mrs. Spencer, it seemed, had had an aunt living in the villagewith the Gibbs; and as a child she had often stayed there; so that shehad known Toni's father well. 

"Of course, t' Gibbs were always a cut above us, " she owned frankly. "Myfeyther was a foundry hand till he died, and wasn't too steady neither;and when 'e died my mother took in washing. There was a trick youngRoger once played 'er about a washing-basket . .. What was it now?" Shepaused to meditate. "Nay, I can't think on this minute . .. But she allussaid as 'e wur nowt but a bowdekite!" She laughed, jollily, at therecollection, and pressed a cheesecake on Toni with a heartiness therewas no resisting. 

Thanks to her chatter time flew; and Herrick was just beginning to thinkof the waiting chauffeur, when there was a sudden spatter of rainagainst the window panes; and looking out he saw that while they hadbeen talking a storm had been brewing. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little, Mrs. Rose!" He pointed to therain, now streaming down in a steady torrent. "It won't be more than ashower, I daresay. "

"Oh, and Fletcher's outside in it. " Toni put down her cup. "Mr. Herrick, could I tell him to come inside and have some tea, do you think? We'vebeen out for hours, you know. "

"Certainly. I'll see about it. "

He went out and brought in the chauffeur, delivering him over to Mrs. Spencer's good offices; and then returned to find Toni sitting ratherdisconsolately by the window, looking out at the rain as it splashedinto the quickly-forming puddles in the village street. 

The sudden storm, the silence which fell after Mrs. Spencer's departure, or the early-falling dusk, had brought back all her misery to Toni'smind, banishing in a flash all her recent joyful animation; and when, after observing her for a moment, Herrick came forward, he saw that ablight had fallen over her late gaiety. 

She did not hear his step--thought, perhaps, that he had stayed to speakto the chauffeur or chat with the landlady; and all at once such a senseof bitter desolation swept over Toni that she began to cry softly toherself in the dusk. 

Instantly Herrick began to back noiselessly towards the door; but Fate, or perhaps a malignant Boo-Boo, pushed a footstool in his path, overwhich he stumbled with an involuntary ejaculation. 

Startled, Toni turned round and saw him; and cursing his own clumsiness, Herrick judged it best to come forward openly. 

"Your man is having some tea, under Mrs. Spencer's kindly auspices. " Hesmiled. "It seems she 'don't reckon nowt' to our combined appetites, soI hope Fletcher will make up for our shortcomings. "

He sat down in the low window seat, not far from Toni, and with a smileasked permission to smoke. 

"Of course--please do. " She spoke indifferently. 

"Your husband isn't an inveterate smoker--like me?" He lighted acigarette gratefully. "I thought most literary men were slaves totobacco. "

"I think Owen smokes a good deal, " she said. "And especially now that heis working so hard. Miss Loder is quite shocked at his cigarettes. "

"Miss Loder?" The question slipped out before he had time to reflect. 

"My husband's secretary. " She broke off abruptly, as though unwilling tosay more. Then a great flood of bitterness rolled over her spirit, atthe memory of her own failure; and mingled with it came a sore envy anddistrust of the clear-eyed, capable woman who had supplanted her. Together, the two proved irresistible; and with an almost child-likeinstinct to confide in the man whom she felt to be trustworthy, Toniturned to Herrick and poured forth her sad little story ofdisappointment and bitter disillusionment. 

Out it all came, her desire to help her husband, and the dread awakeningto the fact of her own incompetency. Herrick, listening, realized, asperhaps Owen could not have done, what a blow to Toni's hopes thefailure of the experiment had been; and remembering her earlierconfidences, when she had appealed to him to reverse the judgment passedupon her by two cruel women, he began to wonder whether Toni would everfind any happiness in the life which had once looked so glorious to heryouthful eyes. 

He said very little till she had finished, though now and again, a quietquestion made clear some point involved by her own incoherency; and fromthe bottom of his heart he pitied the girl who was beginning to realizethat though she might be the wife of the man she loved, she would neverbe his real companion and helpmate until she could attain somethingnearer to the high standard of perfection for which he looked. 

"This Miss Loder--you like her?"

"I believe--sometimes--I almost hate her, " said Toni drearily. "She iseverything I am not, you see. She is clever, well-educated, amusing. Ithink I hate women who tell amusing stories, " she added vindictively, biting her lip with her strong little teeth. 

"But she is not personally objectionable to you?" Herrick wished tohear, if possible, how she treated her employer's wife. 

"No--at least she doesn't mean to be, " said Toni, striving to speakfairly. "But I know she thinks I am a fool, and pities Owen for havingmarried me. I believe she thinks I ought never to speak to Owen, neverask him any questions about the book. She was quite--short--with meyesterday because I went in to speak to Owen during the afternoon!"

"Oh, but that's absurd!" Herrick felt a quite unreasonable dislike forthe superior Miss Loder. "After all you are his wife--she is only hissecretary--and husbands and wives have a claim on each other which nosane person would deny. "

"Yes. " She did not look convinced, and he tried again. 

"Don't forget, will you, that a wife holds an absolutely uniqueposition. She is the one person in the world to whom the man isanswerable for his actions, just as she is answerable to him for herown; and if she is--hurt--or annoyed by any proceeding on the part ofher husband, she has a perfect right to express her wishes on thesubject. "

"You mean I have a right to ask Owen to send away Miss Loder?" Toni wasalways direct in her statements. "I suppose I have--if I wanted to--butI don't. It isn't Miss Loder who makes me miserable. It's the wholehopeless situation. "

Her words startled him. 

"Not hopeless, Mrs. Rose!"

"Why not?" In her eyes he read again that hint of a tortured woman soulwhich he had glimpsed before. "It isn't very hopeful, is it? My husbandwants help and sympathy, which I cannot give him; and yet because hemarried me he can't ask anyone else for it except in a business way. "

"But--you don't mean:----" Herrick paused, aghast at the horrible ideaher words had conjured up; and Toni, with the new quickness whichsuffering was teaching her, hastened to reassure him. 

"Oh, I don't mean he wants to marry any other woman, " she said proudly. "I am his wife--unfortunately for him, perhaps, but he will always betrue to me. Besides, Miss Loder isn't that sort, " she added, rathervaguely. 

"Then what----"

"Oh, you don't understand!" Her sad voice robbed the words of allpetulance. "Though you are most awfully kind--and clever--you see youaren't married, Mr. Herrick, and that makes a difference. "

"Who told you I was not married?" His tone was studiously quiet, yet thegirl looked at him quickly, wonderingly. 

"I don't think anyone told me--but I thought you weren't. " Shehesitated, then went on hurriedly. "I used to think that was why youwere so--so sad. I mean--oh, I know you laugh and talk and are kind, butsomehow I felt all the time there was a sadness underneath. .. . "

She broke off, roused from thoughts of her own trouble by the fear thatshe had given him pain; and for a moment neither spoke. 

Then, with a glance at the window, down whose panes the rain was stillstreaming, Herrick took a sudden resolution. 

Perhaps if he told this girl the story of his own marriage, openedbefore her eyes the book on whose pages was inscribed so tragic ahistory, she might take courage anew, realizing that her own pitifullittle story held no hint, at least, of shame or disgrace, no hint of amutual disillusionment which only death could adjust. 

He rose abruptly. 

"I'll just speak to your man, " he said. "I don't think it would be wiseto start yet, but I'll see what he says, shall I?"

She let him go, wondering whether her last speech had vexed him; and ina moment he returned. 

"Fletcher agrees with me that it will be wise to wait a quarter of anhour, " he said; "the rain is not nearly so heavy, and the sky is growinglighter. "

"Very well. " She spoke listlessly, and his resolve was strengthened. Sitting down on the window seat again, he asked her a question. 

"You didn't know I was married? Would you care to hear the story of mymarriage? It isn't a very happy story, but it might serve to show youwhat a different thing your marriage will yet turn out to be. "

"I should like to hear what you can tell me, " Toni said slowly; andafter a moment's hesitation Herrick began the story which he had rightlycalled unhappy. 

CHAPTER XVII

"It is just four years since I met the girl who was to be my wife. I wastaking a holiday in Ireland at the time; and daring a visit to an oldfriend in Dublin I was introduced to a certain Mr. Payton, an Irishsquire, who had brought his two daughters up from the country for a fewweeks' gaiety. Well, we took a fancy to one another. I was always aqueer sort of chap, hating convention and all the trammels of society, and I liked the old man at once. He was a big, jolly old boy, a thoroughsportsman and Irish to the backbone. Poor as a rat, yet living somehowlike a Prince; hospitable to a fault, and looking on debts and duns inthe light of a joke. "

He paused for a second, then went on quietly:

"I went back with him and his two girls after their Dublin visit wasended. They were all very kind to me, and there was a sort of charmabout the old castle where they lived, always in difficulties, yetkeeping open house, and managing, in some mysterious way, to have thebest of everything. There are people like that, you know--people who, without possessing a penny, manage to acquire pounds' worth ofeverything. It's an art, and old Squire Payton had it at hisfinger-tips. "

Outside the rain still fell. Inside the room everything was very quiet. 

"Well, the end of it was that I fell in love with Eva Payton. She wasjust eighteen--a bewitching age, I used to think, and as pretty as apicture. Golden curls that were generally tied up with a blue ribbon, big Irish eyes, put in, as they say, with a smutty finger, a littlemouth all soft curves, the tiniest, whitest teeth--oh, there's nodenying she was a beauty; and she made my heart beat faster every timeshe looked at me. "

He had spoken rather dreamily, and Toni sat still, fascinated by thisauthentic peep into another's life; but with a sudden rather harshlaugh, Herrick resumed his story in a different tone. 

"Well, we were married. In those days I had a little money--not a greatdeal, but I managed to make a fair income by painting. I never told youI painted, did I? Well, I did--portraits chiefly; and made quite adecent bit of money. "

Toni, who knew nothing of art and artists, never suspected that she wasin the company of one of the best-known portrait-painters of the day;and Herrick was well content to keep her in ignorance. 

"So we were married and came back to London. We had a house inKensington--quite an unfashionable locality, but one of the big, old-fashioned houses you find there, with a large garden which was wortha fortune, to my way of thinking. But I soon found that my wife wasn'tsatisfied to live quietly, out of the world, as it were. She hankeredafter a house in St. John's Wood, among the 'other artists' or inHampstead among the rich people. She didn't want to be stuck down amongfrumps and dowds, she said. West Kensington was all very well for womenwho were churchy, given up to good works, but she wanted to be in alively, social, bridge-playing set; and she moped and pined so in ourquiet life that I gave in and we moved to a much smarter locality. "

Toni, her eyes fixed on his face, said nothing when he paused; and aftera minute he resumed his narrative. 

"Well, from the first it was an unlucky move--for me. The house was toobig, and required a lot of extra furnishing. The studio wasn't as goodas my other one had been, and there was only an apology for a garden. But Eva had her wish. People called on her, and finding her pretty, vivacious, clever in her quick Irish way, they took her up and made afuss of her. She was invited here and there, and of course her personalexpenditure rose in consequence. Unfortunately my work didn't increasein proportion. I had the bad luck to fall ill--the only time in my lifeI've ever had an illness--and for several months I was unable to touch abrush. Of course I had a little money put by, and with ordinary prudencewe should have pulled through all right. But Eva had never learnedprudence. She had lived all her life in an atmosphere of debt anddunning creditors and over in easy-going old Ireland no one cared astraw if one were in debt or no. So to my horror when I was convalescentI found my foolish little wife had been running up enormous bills. Everything was in arrears. The housekeeping money had gone to pay forher daily amusements, the servants were unpaid, the tradespeopleclamouring. "

He laughed, rather drearily. 

"Well, I sold out a little stock I had and set matters right or so Ithought. I put the rest of the money in the bank and told Eva she mustbe rather careful. But imagine my horror when one day she came to me, whimpering with fright, and confessed she had several personal billsunpaid and the creditors were pressing her. At first she did not tell methe whole truth. She prevaricated, showed me one or two bills not madeup to date, and was vague about the different amounts. Finally she ownedthat she was in debt for nearly five hundred pounds. "

"Five hundred pounds!" It was Toni's first interruption. 

"Yes. Sounds a lot, doesn't it? We'd only been married a year. Stillthere was nothing for it but to realize some more capital, and I did it, and then asked for the bills. She brought them unwillingly, after a vainattempt to get me to entrust the payment to her; and to my surprise andrelief, I found that three hundred would cover the lot. "

"But----"

"Oh, it didn't--by a long way. By dint of a good deal of persuasion, Igot it out of my wife that the rest was owing to different friends forbridge and racing debts. Of course I had forgotten that my little Irishwife was a born horse-lover, and, I'm sorry to say, gambler; and I oughtnot to have been surprised. But I was. And I'm afraid I was a bitbrutal. You see I couldn't help thinking it was rather hard that themoney I'd worked for was to be squandered; and I spoke rather sharply tothe poor child. "

Toni, listening, thought he was justified in speaking sharply, but shedid not venture to say so. 

"I scolded her first--she was like a child expecting to be sent tobed--and then I got a statement of her debts and paid them. But I toldher, at the same time, that I should never do it again. I promised tohelp her in little ways if the allowance I made her was insufficient;but I pointed out to her that my income wouldn't stand the drain of hugepayments like these; and she cried pitifully and promised, solemnly, that she would never play for money again. "

"And she did?" Toni's interest in the story was her excuse. 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Of course. It was in her blood. Gambling in one form or another shemust have. Someone told me afterwards--after the crash--that it was analmost uncanny sight to see my wife, looking like a child with her curlsand her big grey eyes, sitting at the bridge table playing feverishlyinto the small hours of the morning; or talking to bookmakers' clerkswith an evidently inborn knowledge of the ways of horse-racing. I was afool, of course. Instead of sitting in my studio painting portraits, Iought to have gone about with her--and yet, if I had, there'd have beenno money for either of us. "

He sighed heavily. 

"Well, the crash came eventually. Twice more I paid her debts and twiceshe swore to give up her folly. Then I was sent for to a big place inWales, to paint some portraits--those of the three daughters of thehouse--and of course I had to go. I had been there a month when I got anurgent wire from my solicitors to return at once; and back to town Iwent, to see what mischief my little wife had been getting into. "

"And you found----"

"I found the house in an uproar. Waiting for me was my solicitor, andwith him a Jewish-looking man who was the head of a large jeweller'sbusiness in the West End. Also--in another room--were a detective and awell-known pawnbroker. Now--can you reconstruct the story they toldme--between them?"

She shook her head. 

"No, I can't imagine what it was. "

"You wouldn't. " For a moment a sort of tenderness softened his tone, which hardened again as he went on. "It seems my wife had never, fromthe beginning, told me the truth, with regard to the extent of herliabilities. Besides those I knew of, she owed two or three hundreds toa money-lender, to whom she had gone in a panic on first discovering shewas in debt. He had lent her the money, at an enormous rate of interest, and as she had been unable to pay anything he was now pressing forimmediate payment. Distracted by his threats, and by the other billswhich her extravagance had run up, too terrified to appeal to me afterher solemn promises, Eva conceived a really desperate plan. Takingadvantage of my absence she went to Jordan and Green, the jewellers, andasked if she might have a very fine pearl necklace on approval. Theydemurred a little, politely, at first, and asked her name, whereon shegave it, without hesitation, as Lady Eileen Greenlay, an Irish girl withwhom she had been acquainted in Dublin, and to whom she bore a strikingresemblance. She gave them Lady Eileen's address in Hamilton Terrace, and one of the clerks, who knew the lady by sight, advised the head ofthe firm that this was really she. Of course they knew the family werewealthy people, and as Eva was beautifully dressed, with furs--unpaidfor--worth two hundred pounds, they let her have the necklace, and offshe went with it. "

"But how risky!" Toni breathed the word in horror. 

"A desperate woman sticks at very little, " Herrick reminded her grimly. "Well, the misguided girl took her trophy and went off to Rockborough, the big pawnbroker, where she displayed the necklace and asked for aloan. Seeing no reason to doubt her genuineness, they advanced her alarge sum--though not, of course, the full value of the jewels, and shetook the money and paid the money-lender and one or two more people whowere pressing her. But it happened by a queer coincidence that a day ortwo later Jordan and Green had a visit from an aunt of the real LadyEileen's, who wished to send her a little diamond pendant for a birthdaypresent; and when she gave the address to which it was to be sent as oneof the best hotels in Mentone, the jewellers became uneasy. Theyinstituted inquiries, found the young lady's family were all out oftown, the Hamilton Terrace house closed; and it became pretty evidentthey had been hoaxed. "

He paused; but Toni did not speak. 

"The first thing they did was to make inquiries at the big pawnbrokers, and of course they knew in an hour or two that they had been done. Witha queer sort of cleverness, Eva had given herself out, to the second lotof people, as an actress to whom the necklace--a present--was worthlittle compared with the value in cash; and they had believed her story. But naturally it was soon proved to be false; and at first matters wereat a deadlock. Well, the police were called in; and by dint of manyinquiries among taxi-drivers, the girl was finally traced to themoney-lender's office in Holborn. He, of course, was as close as thegrave; but one of his clerks was bribed into giving the lady's name; andeverything was easy after that. "

"Oh, poor girl!" Toni's soft heart felt a great compassion for thefrightened wife. 

"At first, of course, she denied everything. Unfortunately, Lord Thirsk, the father of the girl she had impersonated, took up a very violentattitude and demanded the utmost restitution; and since so many peoplewere in the secret it was absolutely impossible to hush it up. I did mybest; I offered everything I had in the world if they would let thematter drop without a prosecution, but it was useless. The thing had togo to court, and there was a big excitement over the case. "

"And----"

"Oh, the result was a foregone conclusion. In spite of everything, inspite of her denials, her terrified lies, her vain attempts to clearherself by"--he hesitated--"by implicating me, the case against her wasas clear as the day. I tried my hardest--I perjured myself to try toclear her of the worst guilt--I strove my best to make her out my tool, but it wasn't any good. The Counsel on the other side simply turned meinside out in two minutes. In spite of all my efforts I couldn'tconvince him I'd had a hand in it--and of course my absence from townshowed the truth pretty plainly. Well, Eva spoke out, in the end. "

Ho set his lips as he thought of the miserable girl's confession, following on hours of mental torture at the hands of the prosecutingCounsel. 

"In the end I think it was a relief to her to speak the truth. Afterseeing all her lies, all the pitiful, sordid little lies, torn topieces, after hearing all the weight of evidence against her, seeing thenet close in on her--on one helpless, terrified little girl--she gave inand begged desperately for mercy. She seemed to think if she told thetruth--at last--they would pardon her, let her off, and she poured outthe whole story and cried out for forgiveness. She couldn't believe theywould send her to prison. .. . "

His brow was wet with the reminiscent agony of those closing scenes. 

"Of course they could do nothing but sentence her. Then, when sheunderstood that she was to be sent to prison after all, she went nearlyoff her head with fright . .. She swore she'd lied, retracted everythingshe'd said . .. Oh, there was a terrible scene--she shrieked when theytried to silence her, clung to the dock so that they shouldn't take heraway . .. My God! It was horrible, horrible to see her, so little andfragile, screaming to me to save her from the men who were all againsther. .. . "

Toni, white to the lips, could see it all. She had forgotten her owngriefs now in contemplation of this far more terrible sorrow. 

"Even the Judge was upset when he had to sentence her. The court wasfull of women--I told you the case had attracted a lot of attention--butthank God they were rendered miserable by their presence there in theend. When she heard her sentence--eighteen months in the seconddivision--she couldn't grasp it at first--and then just as I wasbeginning to feel I must do something or I should go mad, she faintedclean away and was carried out insensible. "

"Oh, Mr. Herrick, "--Toni, her eyes full of tears, spokeimpetuously--"how terrible for you--for you both! Did you go to her andtry to comfort her?"

He was silent for a long moment. Then--

"That was the worst of all. " His voice was grim. "When once she realisedthat she was helpless, that she was to be kept in prison, against herwill, for eighteen long months, all her love for me turned to hate. By aqueer, perverted instinct she blamed me for everything that hadhappened. She persisted in asserting that I could have saved her if Iwould. It was quite useless for me to say anything. I was allowed to seeher once more--with my solicitor--and she heaped reproaches on my headtill my blood ran cold. She called me a scoundrel, a coward, because Ihadn't succeeded in shifting the blame to my own shoulders. She ragedagainst her fate, swore she wouldn't obey the rules, would starveherself to death--and taunted me with the fact, that while she wassuffering, starving, in a prison cell, I should be warm and well-fed athome. She screamed out that she hated me, wished me dead--and my lastglimpse of her was as she disappeared, her face distorted with passiontill all the soft childish beauty had vanished. "

"And she is there now?"

"In prison? Yes. "

"But--is the time nearly over?"

"Yes. Four weeks to-day Eva will be set free. " He stared out of thewindow with unseeing eyes. "And then will come the question--what are weto do?"

"To do?" She did not understand. 

"Yes. You know, she will never forgive me. In her childish, unreasonableway, she persists in thinking everything that happened was my fault. IfI had given her more money, she would not have got into debt. If Ihadn't gone to Wales and left her alone she would never have done thething; and if I had only lied better, the blame would have beenmine--and the punishment. "

"But it was she who was guilty----"

"I know--but if I could have gone to prison in her stead, God knows I'dhave gone--willingly. Things are so different for men. When I think ofher, the little, soft, fragile thing I married, shut up alone in a cell, wearing prison garments, eating rough prison food, being ordered aboutby harsh, domineering women, why, I almost curse myself that I am freeto walk about under God's blue sky!"

"Shall you go back to London--when she is free?"

"I don't know--I don't know, " he said rather drearily. "I let the houseat once--gave it up at the next quarter, and our things are stored. Iwanted to get away from it all, so I came down here and took thebungalow, but of course it won't suit Eva. "

"Couldn't you--change your name?"

"That's done already, " he said. "Just after the trial an uncleobligingly died and left me nine thousand pounds on the understanding Ishould take his name; so I did, of course, and turned myself from JamesVyse into James Herrick. "

"Then no one will know?"

"No. But this life, this vagabond river life that both you and I love, wouldn't suit Eva very long. No, I'm afraid we shall have to seek some'city of bricks and mortar'--but even my wife won't be keen on London, and it's the only city one can live in properly. "

While he talked, the rain had ceased; and he rose as he spoke the lastwords. 

"Well, Mrs. Rose, I've showed you the skeleton in my cupboard--and he'sa pretty grisly object, isn't he? But I don't want to depress you with arecital of my woes. After all, life's sweet, sister--and you and I, thanks be to God, have the soul of the gipsy within us, which is madequite happy, poor feckless thing, by the sight of the sun or the musicof the breeze!"

Her eyes kindled with sudden comprehension. 

"Yes--and you've shown me what a fool I am to think myself unhappy!" Shetoo sprang up, and her body was full of vigour and youth again. "I won'tgive in, Mr. Herrick! You've not given in, and you've heaps more causethan I have. After all, I'm young and I love nature and--and myhusband--and I _have_ a soul--you told me so! And in time Owen will besatisfied with me, won't he?"

"Of course he will!" In his heart Herrick thought the man who wasdissatisfied with this eager, enthusiastic, courageous youth must behard indeed to please. 

"I've read nearly all those books, " she said proudly, "and I can readFrench ever so much better now. And I won't care for Miss Loder's coldstares and her amused little laugh when I do something silly. And if Igo on trying, I shall soon be a fit companion for Owen, shan't I, Mr. Herrick?"

"Dear little child, " he said, laying his hand on her shoulder, "don'ttry too hard! Read your books, study languages, take an interest in thevital questions of the day--but don't lose your tenderness, yoursympathy, your freshness of heart. Grow up if you will, but don't growtoo fast! And in cultivating your soul, don't forget that a woman'sheart is her sweetest, rarest treasure after all!"

He released her gently. 

"There! My sermon's over--and so, apparently, is the rain. And thatblithe footstep I hear outside surely heralds the approach of Mrs. Spencer!"

He was right. After a loud knock the door opened briskly to discloseMrs. Spencer bearing a lighted lamp; and Herrick went forward to relieveher of her burden. 

"Enter the Lady with the Lamp!" quoth he, smiling. "Well, Mrs. Spencer, the rain's over and gone, and it's time we went too, eh, Mrs. Rose?"

"I suppose so. " She took up the coat she had thrown aside. "Has thechauffeur had some tea, Mrs. Spencer?"

"Lor yes, ma'am, and enjoyed it too, " responded the landlady, beaming. "A rare good trencherman he be an' all! I'd sooner meat him for a weeknor a fortnight, as they say in our parts. "

"Meet him?" Even Herrick did not recognise the idiom. 

"Yes, sir--board him, give him his meat, " explained Mrs. Spencervolubly. "But I can't say as much for you and the young lady, sir. "

She looked regretfully at the still loaded plates. 

"We've had a lovely tea, Mrs. Spencer, " said Toni, her heart very warmtowards this comely woman who had known her father. "I shall come andsee you again some day. May I?"

Mrs. Spencer immediately invited her to come as often as she liked; andthen covered both Toni and Herrick with confusion by refusing to take apenny for their tea. 

"What--me take money from Roger Gibbs' lass?" she said, her mannerfilled with the mingled independence and respect of the best type ofcountrywoman. "Not I, sir. We Yorkshire folks don't grudge a cup o' teaand a bit of fatty cake to them as is like ourselves, exiles in astrange land. Besides, it's been a rare treat to see the young lady. Tothink that Roger Gibbs' lile lass should come drivin' up in one of theygreat mutter-cars, too!"

"Yes, and it's really time she drove away in it, " responded Herrickpleasantly. "I think I hear Fletcher bringing it round. "

There was a tentative hoot from Fletcher's horn at that moment; andafter a grateful farewell, and a vain attempt to pay, at least, forFletcher's tea, Herrick took Toni out and installed her in the car. 

He refused her invitation to drive home with her, alleging that hishealth required exercise; and though Toni might have been forgiven forthinking fifteen miles' ride over a wet and muddy road, under a stillcloudy sky, rather a strenuous form of exercise, some newly acquiredintuition told her he really wished to be alone. 

She said good-bye, therefore, without attempting to press the matter;and a moment later the car glided away, its lamps gleaming in the ruralblackness of the village street. 

As he rode home, his tyres splashing through puddles, and spattering himwith mud, Herrick's face was very tired and worn, but in his eyes therelurked a little faint light of happiness that he had helped anotherweary soul a few steps forward on its pilgrimage over a thorny road. 

"Poor little soul!" He smiled as he recognized the form his sympathytook. "After all she's right--she has a soul--and even though it bringsher suffering and tears, it's worth the price. And yet--I wonder if itwould have been kinder to leave her alone--not to encourage that hope ofhers to make herself more intellectually worthy of her husband? I didn'tmake much success of waking _my_ Undine's soul to life! All I got washer hatred--and from the beginning she lied to me!"

Luckily at that moment his lamp blew out, viciously; and with a mutteredexecration of the creatures he called Boo-Boos, he dismounted andrelighted the flame, whose vagaries throughout the rest of the long ridekept him so fully occupied that he had neither time nor inclination tomeditate on such abstractions as souls. 

CHAPTER XVIII

By the end of September, Owen's book was finished; and on a beautifulautumn morning he and Toni set off in the car on a journey to town, where a publisher, who was also a personal friend, was waiting toreceive the manuscript. 

Mr. Anson was a kindly, energetic man of middle age; and he had secretlylong expected Owen to turn novelist; so that he accepted the bulkymanuscript with a real curiosity as to its value. 

He promised to let the author know his decision at an early date; andthen invited Owen and his wife to lunch with him at the Carlton, aninvitation which Owen accepted at once, rather to Toni's dismay. 

They were his sole guests; and beneath his kind and courteous manner, Toni lost her shyness and charmed her host by her girlish simplicity anddirectness. 

It happened that the conversation turned on the bungalows which linedthe banks of the river as it flowed through Willowhurst; and presentlyMr. Anson asked a question. 

"You've got Vyse down there, haven't you? You know the chap I mean--theportrait-painter. "

"I don't think so. " Owen was puzzled. "At least I have not heard of himbeing there. Have you, Toni?"

"Yes--Mr. Anson means Mr. Herrick, " said Toni quietly. "He told me theother day he had changed his name. "

"Ah yes, I remember now--something about some money, I believe. You knowhim, Mrs. Rose?"

"Yes. He fished me out of the river one day when I had fallen in, " saidToni smiling. "And he has been to see us several times--but I didn'tknow he was famous, " she finished naďvely. 

"Didn't you? Why, he is--or was--one of the foremost men in his own lineuntil there was the trouble with his wife. "

"Surely you don't mean that jewel affair?" Owen asked meditatively. "Didn't Vyse's wife steal a pearl necklace or something of the sort? Iseem to remember something about it--though I did not connect it withthis chap. "

"His wife--who was one of the prettiest Irish girls I ever saw--got avaluable necklace on approval and pawned it for money to pay her debts, yes. Poor fellow, it broke him up completely. "

"Really?" Owen was interested. "Where is she--the wife--now? Did heleave her, or what happened?"

"She is in prison, " returned the other man slowly. "I understand hertime is nearly up, and I am wondering what they will do when she comesout again. "

"In prison--ah yes, I recollect the affair now, though I was away at thetime. Got eighteen months, didn't she?"

"Yes. It was the most painful experience I've ever had, to listen to herbeing sentenced. " Mr. Anson's florid face grew grave. "It happened thather Counsel was a nephew of mine, and I promised to hear him handle thecase. But, of course, it was hopeless from the start. "

"The husband--this chap Herrick--was blameless, I suppose?"

"Quite. He knew nothing about it, though the girl tried her hardest toimplicate him. He did his best, too, would have sworn anything to clearher and take the blame, but her lies were all so dreadfully patent itwas no use. In the end she told the truth, thinking it would help her;but it was too late then. "

"She took it badly?"

"Terribly. She cried and shrieked for mercy, fought like a tiger withthe officials who tried to take her away, and screamed reproaches at herhusband, till everyone was sick of the scene. Of course, she neverdreamed they would send her--a lady, and a delicate bit of a girl, too--to prison like a common thief, and she completely lost herself-control when she realized what was going to happen. It was a reliefto everyone when she gave one last cry and fainted right away. "

"Hard lines on the husband, " said Owen, reflectively. 

"Deuced hard lines--and he as decent a fellow as ever stepped. Why heever married her, God only knows. She didn't care a bit for him--wastedhis money and then reviled him because he'd no more. Of course, she cameof a rotten stock--wasters and gamblers every one--and this was how thehereditary taint came out in her. "

"She must have served most of her sentence by now?"

"Comes out next week. I wonder what he will do with her. She's not thesort of woman to live in a shanty by the riverside, and yet he can'tvery well bring her back to town. "

"I wonder?" Owen glanced at his watch. "I say, Anson, I don't want to berude--after our excellent lunch!--but I've an appointment at the officeat three and it's a quarter to now. "

"All right, my boy, I won't detain you. " Anson rose at once. "I'm gladyou keep an eye on the _Bridge_--it's a fine little review and goingahead all the time. "

Owen's face brightened at this authoritative praise. 

"I'm glad you think go. Of course, we are jolly lucky in our staff, andwe've got the best sort of contributors, too. "

"Yes. By the way, how on earth have you managed to get all this stuffturned out with a disabled arm?" He patted the thick packet ofmanuscript and glanced at Owen's inconspicuous sling wonderingly. "Perhaps Mrs. Rose helped you?" He looked, with a smile, at Toni. 

"No. " She coloured hotly. "I did not help at all. "

"Miss Loder--my secretary at the office--came down to help me, " saidOwen easily. "She is used to the work, you see, and does itexcellently. "

"I see. " The kindly eyes had seen Ton's flush. "Well, no doubt Mrs. Roseis satisfied to inspire your work and let others do the manual labour. The power behind the throne, eh, Mrs. Rose? That's what women used tobe, bless them, before these dreadful Suffragettes arose to destroywoman's real influence by violence and wrongheadedness. "

"I expect my wife is jolly thankful the book's finished, " said Owenlaughing. "She has had a pretty thin time while I've been writing it. But now I suppose there will be a lull of a few weeks?"

"Oh, I won't keep you long, " said Mr. Anson genially. "I'll send themanuscript to the reader to-night, and let you know as soon aspossible. "

They parted from their host on the pavement out side the Carlson, andOwen turned to Toni. 

"Now, dear, what will you do? Will you come with me to the office, orhave you any shopping?"

Toni bit her lip nervously. She had a request to make, and did not knowhow to set about it. 

"Well?" Owen watched her, wondering why she looked embarrassed. 

"Owen, would you mind if I went to Brixton to see my aunt? I--I'm afraidthey think I'm a little unkind, and after all they have always been goodto me. "

"Why, Toni"--Owen was genuinely surprised--"you don't mean to say youare afraid to ask me that! Of course you can go. I'll come to fetch youwhen I've finished my work, if you like. "

"Will you?" She knew how such a visit would gratify her aunt. "Shall Itake a taxi, then, Owen? You'll want the car. "

"Yes, I think that would be best, then you can stay as long as possible. What time shall I come, Toni? Half-past five or so?"

"Yes. That will be lovely. Then we'll have a jolly ride home. "

He called a taxi accordingly and installed Toni therein; and he stoodback to watch her gliding away from him in the mellow Septembersunshine, before he hurried to the office where Barry was impatientlyawaiting his arrival. 

Toni found several members of the Gibbs family at home when at lengthshe reached her destination. 

Being Thursday, Fanny was enjoying her weekly holiday, and was delightedto see Toni; more especially because she had a piece of news to confidewhich appealed strongly to Fanny's romantic nature. 

When the first greetings were over, and Mrs. Gibbs had retired with thehospitable intention of "putting on the kettle, " Fanny beckonedmysteriously to Toni to mount the narrow stairs leading to the room thegirls had formerly shared in common. 

Toni mounted obediently; and for a second she forgot to wonder what MissGibbs' extraordinary signals might imply, for a sudden feeling ofgratitude to Owen for having lifted her out of this dingy atmosphereflooded her impressionable nature. 

Surely when she too had slept beneath this low ceiling the room had notbeen quite so small, so stuffy. The wall-paper was the one she and Fannyhad themselves chosen years ago, but it was oddly faded and dirty now, and in one corner a great piece had peeled off, hanging in strips anddisclosing the plaster behind. The common furniture, too--the ricketydeal dressing-table, the broken chair, the unpainted ironbedsteads--thinking of her own airy, spacious, bedroom with its shiningtoilet-table, its linen bedspread, its big windows opening on to a viewof the river and the fields beyond, Toni wondered how she had everendured life in these sordid, depressing surroundings. 

Luckily Fanny was too full of her news to notice Toni's involuntaryshudder as she looked round the close little bedroom; and barely waitingto shut the door she blurted out her tidings. 

"Toni, you remember Lennie Dowson--the fellow who was sweet on you?"

Toni nodded casually, her eyes still roaming round her, and Fanny feltvaguely disappointed that the subject was so evidently uninteresting. 

"Well, he's going to Sutton, three miles from Willowhurst, and I trulybelieve it's because he wants to be near you!"

She had succeeded in arousing Toni's interest at last. 

"Leonard Dowson? Do you mean the dentist? But what on earth will he doin Sutton?"

"Look at people's teeth, I suppose, " returned Miss Gibbs practically. "He was in night before last, and he told Ma he was sick of London, andthis was a change for the better. It is a town, isn't it. And I s'posepeople by the river have toothache same as us, don't they?"

"It is a town--of a sort, " said Toni, "but I shouldn't have thought Mr. Dowson would have settled there. He always said London was the one placein the world for him. "

"That was when you were there, " returned Fanny sagely. "I don't b'lievehe's ever got over you, Toni. Ma says she never saw such a change inanyone, and you know he was always fond of you. That's why he's going toSutton, you may take my word for it. "

To Fanny's surprise Toni spoke coldly. 

"I really can't imagine how you can be so silly, Fanny. How can itaffect Mr. Dowson where I am? I'm married now, and anyway he was neveranything to me. "

"Still, he might be faithful to his first love, " giggled Fanny. 

"Fanny!" Toni faced her angrily. "You are simply odious when you talklike that. Leonard Dowson's first love, indeed? If he says that about meit is simply impertinence, and I don't care to hear you talk suchnonsense. "

She got up indignantly as she spoke and moved to the door. 

"If that is all you have got to say, " she said, "I will go and talk toAuntie. " And she had the door open before Fanny found her tongue. 

Then:

"Oh, I say, Toni, don't be horrid and stuck-up. " Fanny's wail broughtToni to a standstill. "If you _are_ Mr. Rose's wife, and a fine lady, and in with a lot of smart people, you needn't go and be nasty to yourown cousin. "

Something in her voice brought Toni quickly back into the room. 

"Don't be silly, Fan!" She spoke impetuously. "Of course I am not beingstuck-up; you know I wouldn't be nasty to you for the world, but I do sohate that sort of talk about men being fond of you and all that. "

"Well, I didn't know you minded, " said Fanny humbly, and Toni's heartsmote her. 

"Oh, Fan, I don't mind--really--and I didn't mean to be cross. Now tellme, how do you like my frock? It's the first time I've had it on. "

And in the ensuing animated discussion on frocks and frills Fanny lostthat queer, uncomfortable sense of inferiority which had sprung to birthbeneath Toni's manner. 

Somehow, after that Toni found the time drag. She was gentle andfriendly with her aunt, affectionate towards Lu, cordial with her uncleand the rest; but she found herself longing for Owen's arrival as asignal for her release. 

The good-natured chatter, the well-meant inquisitiveness which foundvent in a ceaseless inquiry into the details of her new life, the noisyjokes and laughter, the very persistence of the hospitality which filledher cup and plate over and over again--they all jarred this afternoon;and quite involuntarily Toni sighed for the peace and spaciousness, thegracious calm and tranquillity of Greenriver. 

When Owen at last arrived it was with an inward glee that Toni heard theclock strike six; for now his visit must of necessity be short. 

Possibly Owen saw her pallor, for he announced almost at once thatalthough he regretted the fact, he must carry off his wife withoutdelay; and after a brief interchange of courtesies, the family escortedToni to the car, whose glories most of them now beheld for the firsttime. 

As Owen was still unable to drive, he took his seat by Toni in the bodyof the car; and when they were safely away Toni turned to him with asigh of pleasure. 

"Owen, I thought you were never coming. "

"Was I very long?" Owen was struck by her tone. "What's the matter, Toni? Are you tired, dear, or have the cousins been too much for you?"

"Oh, no, not exactly, " Toni was always loyal, but to-day her loyalty hadbeen severely tried. "But I can't help comparing the house withGreenriver, and I was longing all the time to get back to the garden andthe big rooms. "

Owen did not smile at her naďve confession. 

"You like your home, Toni? Greenriver pleases you?"

"I think it's the loveliest house in the world, " Toni said fervently. "And sometimes I can hardly believe it is I who live there. You see, allmy life I have been used to little houses, and it seems almostincredible that I should have the right to go about as I like--and evenpick the flowers in the garden. "

"Poor little Toni. " Her gratitude touched Owen. "Sometimes I havefancied you found it rather dull. I have been obliged to leave you somuch alone lately; but now we can have a holiday until the book's fateis decided. "

"Will you be busy then?"

"Well, there will be the proofs to revise. And, to tell you the truth, Toni, I'm dying to get to work on another story. "

"Are you? But what about the _Bridge_?"

"Oh, I won't neglect that, of course. But everything is running smoothlythere and Barry is turning out trumps, too. He has grasped the wholething as I never expected him to do. He's going to get a bigger salaryalmost at once, and then I suppose he will marry Miss Lynn. "

He gave a sudden exclamation as the car swerved aside to avoid alumbering cart which took up more than its share of the road. 

"What's Fletcher doing, confound him? I say, Toni, this wretched arm ofmine doesn't seem to me to be getting on very well. The bone's knit allright, but I have a fearful lot of pain in it sometimes. "

"Oh, have you, Owen?" Toni grew pale in an instant. "What does Dr. Maynesay? You saw him a few days ago, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I don't think he knows very much about it. He's a nice oldchap, but a bit behind the times. I have a good mind to go and see someman in town one day next week. It's such a confounded handicap for awriter not to be able to hold a pen. "

"What about your proofs?" Her heart sank as she asked the question. 

"Oh, Miss Loder can do those--under my supervision, " he said carelessly. "I'm not bothering about them so much as about my new book; and I'vebeen commissioned to write a series of articles for the _Lamp_, whichreally ought to be put in hand at once. "

For a moment there was silence. Then:

"Could I do your proofs?" Toni said, in a voice which shook in spite ofall her efforts. 

"Oh, it's awfully sweet of you, dear. " Owen tried his hardest to avoidhurting her. "But there is no occasion to worry you. I don't like to seeyou bending over a desk when there is no need. Miss Loder has to dosomething, anyway, and she might just as well do my work as anyone's. "

"Must she come down to Greenriver?" Now Toni's voice betrayed her, andOwen looked up sharply. 

"Why not? Do you mean you would rather she did not come?"

"Much rather. " For once Toni's inward feelings burst their bounds, driving her to open revolt. "I don't like Miss Loder about all day--Inever feel free--there's an oppression in the air so long as she is inthe house. "

Owen was surprised and annoyed by this speech; and showed his annoyanceplainly. 

"Don't you think you are rather prejudiced, Toni? You have never likedthe girl, and I can't imagine why. She does her work well, and doesn'tinterfere with you in the least. "

"Interfere with me--no, perhaps not, " said Toni, her breast heavingstormily, her cheeks very red. "She laughs at me, though, which isworse--sneers--oh, I know she thinks I'm a little fool, and so I am; butI am at least your wife--the mistress of Greenriver, and she mightremember that and treat me with a little more respect. "

"Respect? My dear Toni, you are talking nonsense. How should the girltreat you? She is always polite, " said Owen, "and you know after all sheis ten years older than you----"

"Only ten?" Toni's assumption of surprise was excellently done. "Ithought she was much more--she always seems to me so staid--so--somiddle-aged. "

Owen's brow cleared suddenly and he burst out laughing. 

"You silly little thing! Compared with you, Miss Loder _is_ middle-aged, but she's a rattling secretary and I don't like to hear her abused. Still, if you dislike the idea of her coming, I'll go to town, or dowithout her. After all, I must not get too dependent on the girl--I'mafraid I'm growing lazy. But if my arm still bothers me----"

Instantly Toni's anger melted away and a rush of affection and sympathytook its place. 

"I'm sorry, Owen--I didn't mean to be cross. I was talking nonsense--ofcourse you must have Miss Loder, I suppose I am jealous of her--becauseshe is so clever, and I'm such a little idiot. "

"I don't want a clever wife, thank you, " laughed Owen, little dreaminghow his careless words cut into the quivering soul of the girl besidehim. "I want a pretty, lively, jolly little girl--half Italian forchoice--who is a cross between a wood-nymph and--sometimes--atiger-cat--or kitten! And it seems to me I have got just exactly what Iwant. "

With an effort Toni smiled, in response to his good-natured jesting; andOwen never knew that his well-meant words caused Toni to shed tearsbefore she slept that night. 

CHAPTER XIX

Mr. Anson's reader reported favourably on Owen's book, and in a veryshort time satisfactory terms were agreed upon between author andpublisher, and the work of proof-reading and revision began. 

Unfortunately at the same time Owen felt his arm to be more than usuallypainful; and a visit to town proved the necessity for further treatment, of which perfect rest was a feature: with the result that once againOwen was forced to accept the help of a secretary in his work. 

Miss Loder, naturally, filled the post; and once more she came toGreenriver, and took her place in the stately old library, where she andOwen passed strenuous hours daily. 

To Toni Miss Loder's presence was growing ever more and moredistasteful. Although Toni was not an intellectual woman, she had sharpwits; and possibly she understood Millicent Loder's personality a gooddeal better than Owen was able to do. And what Toni saw--and Toni'sintuition was rarely at fault--led her to distrust the other girl withall her heart and soul. 

Miss Loder belonged to a rather uncommon variant of the type ofemancipated womanhood. Although intensely modern in many ways she hadnever been able to lose her inborn sense of the superiority of man inmental as well as in physical matters. 

She had none of the loudly-expressed scorn of the other sex by whichmany women seek to hide their disappointment at the indifference ofmembers of that sex towards them. 

Although she was by force of circumstance a Suffragist, she did not forone moment imagine that with the coming of votes for women the wholeindustrial and social problem of the country would be solved. Unlikemany women, she was quite content to work under a man, and although shewas well able to think for herself on all vital questions, she liked tohear and assimilate the opinions of the men with whom she came incontact. 

She preferred men, indeed, to women; and her attitude towards them, though never in the least familiar, held a good comradeship, a kind oflarge tolerance which annoyed and irritated those of her girlacquaintances who looked upon men as their natural enemies and theenemies of all feminine progress. 

Shrewd, competent, fully assured of her own ability to face the worldalone, Miss Loder had never thought seriously of marriage. She delightedin her independence, was proud of the fact that she was able to commanda good salary, and her habit of mind was too genuinely practical toallow of any weak leanings towards romance. She did not wish to marry. She had none of the fabled longing for domesticity, as exemplified in awell-kept house and a well-filled nursery, with which the average manendows the normal woman. She looked on children, indeed, mainly as thematerials on whom this or that system of education might be tested; andshe was really of too cold, too self-sufficing a nature to feel the needof any love other than that of relation or friend. 

But since she had worked for Owen Rose, Millicent had begun to changeher views. At first she had merely been attracted by his brilliance, asany clever girl might have been, had found it stimulating to work withhim, and had been pleased and proud when he selected her to be hiscoadjutor in the task of writing his first book. She had been, in truth, so keenly interested in the author that she had overlooked the man; andit is a fact that until she came down, at his request, to his house towork there, away from the busy office, his personality had been so vagueto her that she could not even have described his appearance with anyaccuracy. 

But the sight of his home, the stately old house set in its spaciousgardens and surrounded by magnificent trees, had shaken Millicent out ofher intellectual reverie into a very shrewd and wide-awake realizationof the man himself. 

In his own home he shook off the conventions of the office, became morehuman, more approachable; and no woman, least of all one as mentallyalert, as open-eyed as Miss Loder, could have passed with him throughthose strenuous hours in which his book was born without gaining apretty complete insight into his character. 

And with knowledge came a new and less comprehensible emotion. At firstMiss Loder had accepted the fact of her employer's marriage as oneaccepts any fixed tradition; and the subject rarely entered her thoughtsduring working hours. 

Gradually she began to feel a faint curiosity as to what manner of womanOwen Rose's wife might be; and she welcomed her summons to Greenriver onthe ground that now she would be able to solve the problem for herself. When she finally saw Toni, her first emotion was one of surprise thatthis dark-eyed girl should be the mistress of Greenriver; and veryslowly that surprise died and was succeeded by a feeling of envy whichgrew day by day. At first Miss Loder grudged the unconscious Toni herestablished position as _châtelaine_ of this eminently desirable home;and Toni's very simplicity, the youthful _insouciance_ with which shefilled that position, was an added annoyance. Later, Miss Loder began togrudge Toni more than that. As she spent more and more time in Owen'scompany, as she grew more and more intimate with the workings of hismind, of his rich and poetic imagination, Miss Loder began to fall underthe spell of the man himself. 

Quite unconsciously she was becoming ever more attracted by his manner, his voice, his ways; and once or twice she found herself wondering, witha kind of sick envy, in what light he appeared to the woman who was hiswife. 

Through it all, however, Miss Loder's paramount emotion was one of envyfor the mistress of Greenriver. She used to think, as she came into thehouse each morning, that it would have suited her much better, as abackground, than it would ever suit the quaint, childish-looking Toni;and it grew almost unendurable to her to have to sit at the luncheontable as a guest--not even that--and watch Toni's ridiculous assumptionof dignity as she sat in her high-backed chair opposite her husband. 

There was no doubt about it that Greenriver would have suited Miss Lodervery well as a home; and she grew to dislike Toni more and more as thefull realization of the girl's good fortune penetrated her mind. 

Toni had been quite right in detecting the malice beneath Millicent'spretended friendliness. It seemed to Miss Loder that the only way topierce this upstart girl's armour of complacency was to launch shafts ofcleverly-veiled contempt; and although to Owen these darts were eitherimperceptible or merely accidental, Toni knew very well that they wereintended to wound. 

Owen, wrapped up in his book, and only anxious to further the work asrapidly as possible, had no time to spare for these feminine amenities. He realized, of course, that Toni did not care for Miss Loder; but hethought he understood that her dislike came, rather pathetically, fromher consciousness of her own shortcomings: and had no idea that MissLoder herself was largely responsible for the lack of harmony betweenthem. 

On what might be called the literary side of him, he thought MillicentLoder an excellent secretary, the one woman with whom he found itpossible to work; but on what might be called the personal side, hisinterest was _nil_. True, he liked her trim appearance, though he wouldnever have dreamed of comparing it with Toni's more unconventionalattraction. He admired her quiet independence, and recognized her atonce as belonging to his own world; but he never thought of her in anyrelation save that of secretary and general assistant; and even Toni wassufficiently wise to recognize the fact. 

All the same Toni mistrusted the other woman; and it was with a feelingof intensest apprehension that she received Owen's announcement thatBarry had arranged for a substitute at the office--thus setting MissLoder free to resume her work at Greenriver. 

 * * * * *

It chanced on a beautiful October day that Owen found it necessary to goto town on business connected with the _Bridge_; and for once he went upby train, bidding Toni use the car if she felt so inclined. 

She did feel inclined; and after a very early lunch, jumped into thewaiting motor, and directed Fletcher to drive over to Cherry Orchard, inthe hope of inducing the doctor's daughters to share her excursion. 

Disappointment awaited her, however. Both the Tobies were away from homeon a short visit, and Toni was obliged to proceed alone. 

She had enjoyed a couple of hours' spin in the frosty air, when shefound herself being carried swiftly past the railway station, and athought struck her which she communicated to Fletcher without delay. 

Yes, Fletcher opined, it was just time the London train was due, andsince it was quite possible Mr. Rose had travelled by it, he obliginglybrought the car to a standstill outside the station entrance. 

Toni jumped lightly out, an alluring little figure in her beautifulsable coat and cap, and made her way swiftly on to the platform, glancing at the big station clock as she did so. 

The train was not due for five minutes; and to pass the interval ofwaiting, Toni strolled over to the bookstall in search of a paper. Asshe stood turning over a few magazines, a familiar voice accosted her, and she moved quickly to face the speaker. 

"Mrs. Rose--I hope you have not quite forgotten me?"

"Mr. Dowson! Of course I've not forgotten you. " She put out a friendlylittle hand, which the young man seized in a fervent grasp. "My cousinFanny told me you were coming down to Sutton. "

"Yes. I had to change here. It's an awkward little journey. " He wasgazing at her fixedly, but withal so respectfully that Toni could nottake offence. "You are, I believe, a resident of this little riversidecolony of Willowhurst?"

"Well, we live by the river, " said Toni cheerfully, amused, as of yore, by his somewhat pedantic diction. "But do tell me, Mr. Dowson, how doyou expect to make a fortune here?"

"I do not expect to do so, " he informed her promptly. "I assure you thismove on my part was not actuated by any mercenary motive, Mrs. Rose. "

"Wasn't it?" She felt vaguely uncomfortable. "Well, I hope you willsucceed. After all, I suppose people do have toothache in the country. "

"Fortunately, they do, " was Mr. Dowson's reply, and Toni was happilyable to acquit him of any unkind meaning. "But may I say that I havenever seen you looking so well, Mrs. Rose? Evidently the river lifesuits you admirably. "

Toni did look particularly well at that moment. The keen frosty air hadbrought a tinge of wild-rose to her cheeks, and a sparkle to her eyes;and the animation of her expression hid the very slight traces of mentaldistress which at a less favourable moment might have been evident to asearching scrutiny. 

"I'm very well, thanks, " she replied carelessly. "I've been motoring, and now I'm waiting for my husband. He has been in town to-day. "

Although she did not wish to dismiss the young man summarily, heimagined she desired him to go; and since to the true lover hismistress' unspoken wish has the force of a command, Mr. Dowson hastenedto obey what he deemed her bidding. 

"I must hurry to the other side to take my train, " he said immediately. "May I express my pleasure at meeting you, Mrs. Rose--and also to seeyou look so well, " he added heartily, if ungrammatically. 

She shook hands with him, debating with herself as to the advisabilityof inviting him to Greenriver; but fortunately the arrival of the Londontrain cut short their farewells at an opportune moment, and Mr. Dowsonleft her before she had time to decide the point. 

Owen was not among the few passengers who got out of the train; andafter waiting a moment or two to make sure, Toni turned away to findherself confronted with Mr. Herrick, who with a worried look on his facewas interrogating one of the sleepy porters. 

"No, sir, there isn't no cabs. There wasn't but three, and the gentlemenwas very quick about taking 'em. "

"Well, I must get one somehow. " Herrick, quite overlooking Toni in hisdisturbance, spoke sharply, and Toni wondered vaguely why he was soannoyed. "You can ring one up from the livery stables, can't you?"

"What's the matter, Jim? No cab, I suppose. Well, they can just fetchone--and quick, too. "

The words, spoken behind her in an unmistakably Irish voice made Tonistart. She understood, all at once, that this was Mrs. Herrick'shome-coming; and she felt a sudden curiosity to see the woman who hadlately gone through so bitter an experience. 

She half turned away; then a thought struck her, and she turned quicklyback again and rushed into speech. 

"Mr. Herrick, I couldn't help hearing you say you wanted a cab just now. Will you let me drive you--and your wife--home in the car? Do--it wouldsave you having to wait so long. "

Herrick, whose usual philosophic calm appeared to have deserted him, hesitated. 

"Why, Mrs. Rose, it's awfully good of you--but----"

"Oh, do!" Toni spoke eagerly, and the woman who stood by turned to herimpulsively. 

"Are you offering to take us home in your car?" Her voice was full ofIrish melody. "It is very kind of you--and for myself, I'm so tired I'daccept with pleasure. But"--there was something malignant in the glanceshe gave her husband--"perhaps we'd better wait for a cab. "

"Oh, do come, please, " Toni begged, her bright eyes pleading to beallowed to do this little service. "It's a big car, and I'm all alone init. "

"Very well. " Mrs. Herrick turned to her husband. "Come along, Jim; theluggage can come on later. "

And in less than five minutes the matter was arranged. Herrick electedto sit beside the chauffeur, so that Toni and her new acquaintance sattogether in the body of the car. Mrs. Herrick's large and rathernew-looking dressing-bag on the floor at their feet. 

Toni gave the direction to the openly interested Fletcher, and the carglided away through the group of loafers hanging round the stationentrance, and settled down into a steady hum on the road leading to theHope House. 

Toni seized a moment while Mrs. Herrick was busy with the fastening ofher bag to steal a look at her companion; and in that brief glance shereceived two distinct impressions--one that Eva Herrick was a bitterlyunhappy woman, the other that she had no intention of allowing otherpeople to escape from her own aura of bitterness. 

In person Mrs. Herrick was short and slight, with a look of finish abouther probably handed down through generations of her Irish ancestors. Hersmall features were cut as clearly as a cameo, and her short upper lip, while giving her an air of pride which was unpleasing, was in itselfbeautiful. Her eyes, the big Irish eyes which had first enslavedHerrick, were lovely in shape and colour, but they were encircled bydisfiguring blue shadows, and the fine skin had a tell-tale pallor whichspoke of long indoor confinement. 

Her hair, by nature crisp and golden, looked dull and lifeless in theshadow of her hat; and over the whole dainty face and figure there wasan indefinable blight, a sort of shadow which dimmed and blurred theirnaturally clean and clear contours. 

As she removed her gloves to fumble with the lock of her bag. Toninoticed that the small, well-shaped hands were rough and badly kept; andToni's soft heart was wrung by these evidences of a sordid, toilsomepast. 

Suddenly Mrs. Herrick sat upright and gazed at Toni with a look whichheld something of criticism. 

"You live down here I suppose?"

"Yes. We live at Greenriver, about a mile from your bungalow. "

"Ah. Been here long?"

"Only a few months. "

"I see. You haven't known my husband very long, then?"

"No. He pulled me out of the river one day, " said Toni, "and we haveseen him pretty often during the summer. "

"Then I suppose you know where I've been?" Her eyes shone maliciously. "Oh, don't pretend you didn't know. I'm sure my worthy husband must havetold you the whole story. "

Toni, scarlet with embarrassment, and wishing from the bottom of herheart that she had never offered the use of her car, said nothing; andwith a grating little laugh the other woman continued her speech. 

"I expect everyone knows I have been in prison. " Luckily she did notraise her voice; and Herrick, possibly foreseeing the necessity, hadtaken care to engage the chauffeur in conversation. "Eighteenmonths--almost--spent in _hell_. Oh!" Her small, sharp teeth bit her lipvenomously. "It drives me mad to think of it. And it could all have beenavoided if my husband had been a man. "

"Oh!" Toni revolted inwardly against her callousness. 

"Oh, I suppose he's told you some tale or other. " Mrs. Herrick spokefiercely, and all her childish beauty waned beneath her passion; "Well, whatever he says, it is I who have paid the bill. Prison! My God, youdon't know what it is to be shut up in a cell like a beast--to beordered about like a dog, to be starved on coarse food, made to sleep ona bed you wouldn't dare to give your servant!"

Toni, very pale, tried to stem the torrent of her words. 

"Mrs. Herrick--please--really I don't think you ought to say this tome----"

"Ought? Why do you say that?" Eva Herrick looked contemptuously at herwould-be mentor. "If you had been shut up as I have been, you would talkas you liked. Thank God I can talk if I can do nothing else. "

Quite suddenly her manner changed. She gave a little laugh which wasoddly fascinating, and laid her hand on Toni's arm. 

"Come, now, Mrs. Rose, don't be getting angry with me. " Her brogue lenta charm to her speech. "I'll admit I've no earthly right to talk so;it's bad form to begin with and a poor return for your kindness. Butremember, I've gone through an experience that's enough to kill a woman, and you can't expect me to forget it all at once. So you must forgiveme. Will you?"

"Oh, of course I will. " Toni spoke quickly. "And I had no right to speakas I did. But--you must forget all that is past. Won't you try?"

"Sure, I'll try. " Eva's lovely eyes filled with tears. "But I know whatwill happen. Your husband won't let you know me, of course, and if Jimand I are left alone, we'll be murdering one another one fine day. "

"Oh, please don't talk so. Of course my husband will let me know you, "said Toni in distress; and she was glad to find from the slackening ofthe car that their conversation must be cut short. 

Jim Herrick, more silent and worn-looking than Toni had ever seen him, helped his wife to alight and then shook hands gratefully with Toni. 

"So many thanks, Mrs. Rose. " His big, bright eyes looked into hers, almost as the eyes of a nice dog might have done. "You have saved us along wait, and I'm only sorry we have taken you out of your way. "

"Oh, that's nothing, " Toni said. "I like being out on these bright days, and I'm ever so glad I happened to be at the station. "

She shook hands with Mrs. Herrick, who looked a pitifully fragile figureas she stood beside the car; and then Toni gave the order for home, andFletcher obeyed that order too promptly to allow of any furtherleave-takings. 

Just for one moment Jim Herrick stood looking after the car, and in hisheart there was a great sickness of apprehension. 

With the best intention in the world to be fair to his wife, he couldnot help comparing the fresh, simple-hearted Toni with the world-wearyand disillusioned Eva; and at the thought of the future his spirits sankto zero. 

A mocking voice broke on his ear as he watched the car gliding swiftlydown the road. 

"When you've finished staring at that young woman, Jim, perhaps you'llopen the gate. " Eva stood back to allow him to reach the latch. "I mustsay this is a nice place to bring me to. Is it a cottage or what?"

"It's quite a decent little place, dear, " he said steadily, as he heldopen the gate for her to pass through. "Of course, I quite understandthat it is only a temporary arrangement, but you will try to put up withit, won't you?"

"I suppose I shall have to, " she replied ungraciously; and then sheuttered an impatient exclamation as the big white dog tore over the lawnto meet her master, uttering deep-throated bays of welcome the while. "You've still got that beast, then--go down, you brute, " she added, asOlga approached, with instinctive courtesy, to greet her formermistress. 

"Don't snap at her, dear, " said Herrick kindly. "The poor creature isonly trying to say how do you do. "

"Then she can say it to someone else, " said Eva curtly. "I hate bigdogs--I wish you'd get rid of her. "

Herrick made no reply, but opened the door, and they went into the housetogether. 

Eva passed into the quaintly attractive sitting-room with a frown on herface, which lightened, however, at sight of the tea-table standingready, and pulling off her gloves and coat she flung herself into a lowchair with a sigh of fatigue. 

"Heavens, how thirsty I am, " she said. "Give me some tea, Jim--quickly. "And as he moved forward to obey her, her eyes followed him with acurious expression in their grey depths. 

"What's for dinner?" she asked, suddenly, and Herrick looked his memoryto recall the _menu_. 

"Soup, roast chicken, plum tart, and a savoury, " he said at last, smiling with a rather pathetic attempt at cheerfulness. "Mrs. Swastika, as I call her, is what is known as a 'good plain cook, ' but anything atall elaborate throws her off her balance altogether. "

"Have you no other servants?" she demanded shortly. 

"Not yet. I didn't want them, you know, and I thought you would preferto choose them yourself. "

"I? If I can get any, " she said darkly, drawing her delicate browstogether resentfully. "Of course they won't stay when they find outthings; but we must be decently waited on. "

Herrick made no reply; and his silence exasperated the girl, whosenerves were all on edge. 

"Oh, don't stand there saying nothing. " Her voice was shrill. "Ofcourse, you think I ought to wait on myself--now. And I suppose becauseI've been in prison you expect me to be thankful to be here--even in ahole like this. Well, I'm not. I hate the place. It's common and shabbyand horrid, and I'm not going to live all anyhow, to please you. "

Herrick, dismayed at the vehemence of her manner, could find no words;and she went on with increasing passion:

"I'm your wife--if I _am_ a jail-bird!" She flung the taunt at him, andher whole little figure was shaken with the intensity of her emotion. "If you think I'm going to pretend to be penitent--and grateful toyou--you are wrong! I _hate_ you, Jim, I loathe and despise you--youmight have taken the blame on your shoulders--and instead you stood byand watched them torture me. _You've_ not been to prison, _you've_ notbeen bullied and despised--you've not spent weeks and months in aloathsome little cell where the sun never shone and there was never abreath of air--you've not been called by a number, and preached at bythe chaplain--oh, no, you've been living here in the sunshine--enjoyingyourself, eating good food--your chicken and your savouries--and for allI know passing as a single man, and keeping your disgraced wife in thebackground!"

She struck the table sharply with her hand, and her cup and saucer fellto the ground and smashed, the tea trickling in a brown stream over thedim blues and greens of the Persian carpet. 

She ignored the catastrophe. 

"Well, you've got me back now, and I'm going to make _your_ life whatmine has been for the last year and a half! I've longed for this moment, Jim"--she set her teeth--"longed for it during the horrible days and thestill more horrible nights. It was only my hatred of you that kept mealive in the first ghastly weeks. I could have died--I was very ill atfirst, and they thought I'd die--but I knew I wouldn't. I meant to liveso that I could tell you again to your face that I hate you, hateyou--_hate_ you! And I'm going to show you what hate is, Jim--I'm goingto make you wish you were dead--or in prison, as I have been. Oh, myGod--I wish--I wish I _were_ dead!"

With a sudden collapse of all her powers she dropped, face downwards, onthe big divan, and burst into a fit of wild and uncontrollable sobbing. 

With an effort whose magnitude he himself only half realized, Herrickwent softly over to the weeping, writhing figure, and laid his hand verygently on her shoulder. 

"Eva, for pity's sake----"

She flung off his hand as though it had been a venomous serpent whichhad touched her; and again her wild sobbing filled the room. 

"Eva, listen to me, dear. " Herrick sat down beside her and spoke in aquiet tone, which yet pierced through her sobs. "You must not sayanything like that to me again. There isn't any question of hatredbetween you and me. We are together now, and we must build up a new andhappy life together which will help us to forget the less happy past. Come, dear, look up and tell me you will help me to make a fresh start. "

She did not speak, but her sobs lessened as though she were listening. 

"Now, Eva, sit up and dry your eyes and we will drop the subject. Comeupstairs and have a rest before dinner. You are tired out and want agood sleep. "

She rose without a word, but in her face he read only fatigue, none ofthe softening which he had hoped to see. 

"Yes. I'm tired--dead tired. " She moved languidly towards the door. "Ithink I shall never be anything else--now. "

Her fit of passion had indeed worn her out. For the rest of the eveningshe was quiet and listless; and she went upstairs very early to bed, leaving Herrick to sit alone with his dog, smoking his pipe, and facingthe future with a sinking heart. 

He sat there until the hour was really late; and then crept upstairsvery softly to avoid waking Eva, if indeed she slept. 

Just as he reached her door he heard a faint, strangled cry, and rushedinto her room to find her in the throes of one of the nightmares whichhe found, later, were a dreadful legacy from her prison life. On waking, her relief at finding she was not, as usual, alone was so great that forthe first time she clung to Herrick as she might have done in happierdays; and as he soothed her and pushed the damp golden curls from herbrow she spoke naturally, with none of the resentment she had hithertodisplayed. 

Her husband's heart melted towards her in this gentler mood; and longafter she had fallen asleep again, soothed by his presence, he satwatching her uneasy slumber with a feeling of compassion which, had sherealized it, must surely have done something to bridge the gulf whichnow yawned between them. 

In the morning she was her hard, mocking self again; and Herrick'spatience was sorely tried in the days which followed. 

It seemed, indeed, as though she had stated her feelings for himcorrectly, as though she did really hate him with a bitter andrelentless hatred. The prison life had changed her whole being, turnedher from a brilliant, reckless, worldly girl, warmhearted andextravagant, but generous to a fault, into a cold, malignant, callouswoman, nursing a grudge until it attained gigantic proportions, andfully resolved to exact from her husband and the world a heavy paymentfor the humiliating punishment she had been forced to undergo. 

Herrick could never discover that she felt that punishment to bedeserved. The whole world was to blame, but never she herself. It wasthe fault of her husband, who had kept her short of money; of thetradespeople who had pressed her, of the usurers who had got her intotheir clutches--the fault of everyone save Eva Herrick; and the factthat they had all, as it were, combined against her, that together theyhad been too much for her, embittered her outlook on life to such adegree that she was positively incapable of any reasonable analysis ofher own guilt. 

It was her husband against whom her resentment was chiefly directed. With all the perversity of her ill-regulated, half-formed mind, sherefused to realize the fact that it had been absolutely impossible forHerrick to take her crime on to his own shoulders. She clung childishlyto the notion that if he had wished he could have borne the blame andendured the consequences; and since there is no reason to doubt that toa girl in her position her life in prison was a horrible experience, herbitterness is perhaps hardly to be wondered at, after all. 

Her sentence had left on soul and body traces which would never beeffaced; and sometimes Herrick could hardly believe that this cold, cynical, bitter-tongued woman was indeed the gay Irish girl he hadmarried. 

But in spite of everything she was his wife. And Herrick was not the manto shirk an obligation which was so plainly marked as this. Although heshrank inwardly from her constant recriminations, he never let her seehow he was wounded by her biting tongue; and to all her reproaches hepresented so serene and complacent a front that she sometimes desistedfrom very weariness. 

So the autumn days went on; and if Herrick felt sometimes that in spiteof the beautiful world around him, life was no longer full of "sweetthings, " he never wavered in his resolve to do all in his power to makeup to Eva, for the misery she had endured behind those heartless prisonwalls. 

CHAPTER XX

"Toni, do you think it quite wise to go about so much with Mrs. Herrick?"

It was Owen who asked the question one cold morning as the two sat atbreakfast; and Toni looked up with something like defiance in her brighteyes. 

"Why not, Owen? Oh, I know she has been--well, you know where--but sheis free again now; and it is very hard if one mistake is to dog herfootsteps wherever she goes for the rest of her life. "

"It was a pretty serious mistake, " Owen reminded her quietly, "and totell you the truth I hardly like you to go about so constantly with awoman who did what she was proved to have done. "

"Oh, don't be such a Pharisee, Owen. " Toni spoke sharply and Owenglanced at her in dismay. "I suppose someone has been saying somethingto you. But I don't intend to give up Eva Herrick to please a lot ofspiteful old women like Lady Martin and Mrs. Madgwick. "

"Certainly one or two people have commented on your friendship, " saidOwen thoughtfully, "and I'm bound to say I don't like it myself. Tobegin with Mrs. Herrick treats her husband abominably; and I should nothave thought you would have been attracted by her shallow, futile way oftalking. "

"You forget I'm shallow and futile myself, " said Toni with a faint, bitter smile. "The gossips of the neighbourhood have long since decidedthat I was an ignorant little fool who wasn't fit to be the mistress ofGreenriver; and I suppose it's a case of birds of a feather, isn't it?"

"Toni!" Owen's voice expressed bewilderment. "What on earth do you mean?Who ever dared to say you weren't fit to be mistress of Greenriver?"

"Oh, heaps of people, " said Toni recklessly. "You know quite well youwere ashamed of me when we first went out to dinner parties here, and Ididn't know how to behave--and lately we have been invited nowhere--noteven to the Golf Club Ball. "

Owen bit his lip. In truth the matter of the ball had puzzled himconsiderably. Although not a golfer, he was on friendly terms with manyof the members of the local Club; and since Toni's friends, Mollie andCynthia Teach, were ardent golfers, it had seemed most probable thatOwen and his wife would receive an invitation to the annual ball. 

The Tobies had indeed gone so far as to assure Toni of her invitationwhen first the ball was mentioned; and though as the day grew near thetwo girls grew uneasy when the topic was broached, Toni never dreamedthat their avoidance of the subject covered a real and distressingawkwardness. 

Certainly neither Toni nor Owen imagined that they had been quietlyexcluded from the list of guests; but such was the astounding fact, asMollie and Cynthia were guiltily aware. 

It was largely due to Lady Martin's plain-speaking that this came about. 

Somehow the real truth about Eva Herrick had leaked out; as such truthsdo invariably leak out; and Toni's ill-advised friendship with Herrick'swife was easily turned to her disadvantage by so skilful an adversary asLady Martin. 

From the first her ladyship had been unable to bring herself to tolerateToni; and had lost no opportunity of spreading abroad Toni's rashadmission as to the nature of her cousin's employment--with theimmediate result that in a good many people's eyes Toni herself waslooked upon as an unusually fortunate shop-girl raised by a stroke ofgood luck to a position which she was quite unsuited to adorn. 

Possibly there was in the case of some of her detractors an element ofjealousy in their comments on Owen Rose's wife. There were a good manyhouses along the river where daughters were at a discount; and to see anunknown and attractive girl like Toni step into the place which many ofthese girls would have dearly liked to fill was doubtless somewhatgalling. 

At any rate Lady Martin found plenty of supporters when she broached heravowed intention of excluding Mrs. Rose from the ball of which she waspatroness, on the ground of her friendship with the woman who had been, as they all knew, in prison for a serious offence; and so it happenedthat when the ball took place neither Owen nor Toni contributed by theirpresence to the success of the evening. 

It was perfectly true that Toni had struck up a friendship with JimHerrick's wife; and it is only fair to Toni to state that in the firstinstance she had made overtures to Eva Herrick from a purelygood-hearted desire to return Herrick's kindness to her in the one waypossible. 

She was not, in truth, greatly attracted to Eva at first. She found herhard, bitter, at times ungenerous; but Mrs. Herrick was clever enough tosee that such attributes failed to endear her to Toni; and since toEva's perverted mind her husband's companionship was unendurable, shequickly determined to make a friend of this soft-hearted, unworldlylittle girl who was evidently sorry for her in her wordless fashion; andwas too candid herself to suspect deceit or double-dealing in others. 

Eva knew very well that the neighbourhood, which prided itself on itsexclusiveness, would have little or nothing to do with her; and motorrides with Toni in the luxurious grey car, with lunch or tea at someriverside hotel, formed an agreeable method of passing the days whichwere otherwise horribly long and empty. 

 * * * * *

"I wasn't thinking of the Golf Ball, " Owen said, in reply to Toni's lastspeech. "But honestly, Toni, I don't care for Mrs. Herrick. Oh, I'm nottalking now of the necklace affair. That's over and done with; but it'sthe woman herself I don't approve of. "

"Why not?" She spoke abruptly and Owen frowned. 

"Well, she's not the sort of girl I like my wife to be intimate with. I'm sorry for that poor fellow Herrick. He is a sensible man, and knowsthat if his wife's past is to be forgotten it will be by living quietlyand decently, and not by pushing into the society of the neighbourhoodwhether she is welcome or no. "

"Owen, you're perfectly hateful. " Toni was really angry. "She is alwayswelcome here, anyway. You know quite well that no one round about reallylikes me. Oh, they call and all that sort of thing; but no one is reallyfriendly to me, and all the time they are saying horrid things about mebehind my back. "

"I think you are talking nonsense, dear, " said Owen quietly. "No onesays horrid things. To begin with, what should they say?"

"They say I'm common and ignorant, and so I am, " said Toni passionately, with a sudden desire to blurt out the conversation she had overheard onthat miserable day in August. "Mrs. Madgwick says so, and Lady Martin. Iheard them--and lots of other people say so too. I thought it wasn'ttrue at first--and then I saw it was. I asked Mr. Herrick, and he toldme to read and educate myself and then I could be useful to you--andinstead of that you went and got that perfectly hateful Miss Loder, andeveryone knows it was because you were sick of me trying to help you anddoing it so badly. "

Owen's face as he listened to this speech was a study in bewilderment. The introduction of Herrick's name puzzled him considerably; andalthough he frowned at Toni's description of Miss Loder, he realizedthat by some means Toni had been made unhappy over her own position ashis wife. 

"See here, Toni, I don't quite understand. " He looked at her keenly. "Who says you are ignorant--and all the rest? And what on earth hasHerrick to do with our affairs?"

"I told him--he saw me crying and asked me why. It was at the VicarageBazaar--I was sitting in a summer-house and Lady Martin and Mrs. Madgwick were outside, and they began to talk about me and they said allthose horrible things----"

"Toni, were you obliged to listen? Couldn't you have got away!"

"No. " She lifted her clear eyes to his and he repented his question. "Icouldn't come out when they had begun; and I didn't know at first thatthey were talking secrets. "

Her childish phraseology made Owen smile in the midst of his annoyance. 

"So Mr. Herrick advised you to read? Well, Toni, that was good advice. "

"Yes--and I took it, " she said eagerly. "I read heaps and heaps of dullbooks and worked at French--and poetry--and then when I tried to helpyou, you wouldn't let me. You brought that horrid Loder here instead. "

Her reiteration of Miss Loder's name jarred. Owen had been genuinelysurprised and interested by this revelation, and if Toni had been wiseenough to stick to her own side of the affair, it is probable she wouldhave captured Owen's sympathy, and, incidentally, his heart; but sheweakened her case by her senseless prejudice against Millicent Loder;and with a quick sense of irritation Owen told himself that she was onlyjealous--in a purely unsentimental way--after all. 

She had never liked being ousted from her position, as would-be helper;but Owen knew--or fancied he did--the exact value of her aid; and afterall his work was too important for him to run the risk of spoiling it byany lack of efficiency in his helpers. 

"I wish you'd leave Miss Loder's name out of the question, " he said atlast, and his tone struck coldly on Toni's excited ear. "When the bookis published I will dispense with her assistance, if you wish it; butuntil then I tell you frankly I intend to avail myself of her mostvaluable help. "

He had expected an angry reply; but none came. Instead Toni said in alow voice:

"Very well, Owen. I know Miss Loder is useful to you and I am not. Butif you refuse to let me help you, I don't think you can complain if Itry to fill my time with other things--and if Mrs. Herrick is pleasantand nice to me I cannot very well refuse to know her, can I?"

"To know her? Certainly not--but there is a difference between knowingher casually and being with her all day long. "

"I am not that, " she replied quietly. "I take her motoring sometimes, because it is dull going alone, and it is a treat to her. But of courseif you object--it is your car----"

"Oh, don't be silly, Toni. " All Owen's pent-up irritation found vent inthe words. "I'm not a dragon--or an ogre, am I? Take Mrs. Herrick by allmeans--have her here if you like, only for goodness' sake don't talk asthough I wished to condemn you to perpetual loneliness. "

"Very well. I won't. " She rose as she spoke. "You've finished, haven'tyou? Then I'll go and see Mrs. Blades--she is ill again to-day, Katesays. "

"Is she? Poor old soul. " Owen rose too, and passing round the table laidhis hands on Toni's shoulders. "Toni, we're not quarrelling, are we?Have I neglected you lately? I'm sorry if I have--when the book's out wewill have a trip abroad, go on the Riviera or somewhere nice and warm. "

He stooped, and kissed her, but though she lifted her face obedientlyand even returned his caress, Toni's lips were cold and her eyes hadlost their sparkle. 

Owen's inflexibility frightened her. She had half expected that when heknew her real and vital dislike for Miss Loder he would promise to sendher away; but he had done nothing of the kind: and Toni felt again, asshe had already felt once or twice of late, that Owen had no intentionof giving in to his wife's fancies, as some men were always ready to do. 

She had intended to offer to give up Eva Herrick's friendship if Owenwould send away Miss Loder. In the quiet hours of the night such abargain had seemed simple enough; but when it came to making thesuggestion Toni's heart failed her. 

"Are you going motoring to-day, Toni?"

"I had thought of it, " she said slowly; "but--do you want the car?"

"No, thanks, dear. I'm going up to town by the twelve-thirty--I promisedto meet Barry for lunch. Shall you be in?"

"No. I thought of lunching out, " said Toni rather vaguely. 

"Oh. Well, you'll order Miss Loder's lunch then, won't you? She musthave it alone to-day. "

Owen, occupied with a letter he held in his hand, had spokenthoughtlessly; but an exclamation from Toni made him pause and regardhis wife in amazement. Toni's pallor had given way to a deep flush, andher usually sweet eyes blazed with rage. 

"Oh, I'll order Miss Loder's lunch. " She spoke in sharp staccato tones. "You needn't be afraid I will neglect her because you're away. I _can_keep house, if I'm not a B. A. ; and thank Heaven I shan't have to sit atthe table and listen to her sneering at me all the time. "

"Toni!" In Owen's eyes a flame similar to that in her own had sprung tolife. "What do you mean by this nonsense about Miss Loder? Let me tellyou once and for all that I won't have it. You never cease libellingthat unfortunate woman from morning to night. Considering she is here, in your house, in a subordinate position, your behaviour is bothunladylike and ungenerous; and if you continue to talk in this way abouta girl who has to earn her own living, and has never done you anyharm--well, we shall quarrel, that's all. "

"I don't care if we do. " Toni's hot temper--a heritage from her Italianmother--was let loose. "I'd sooner quarrel than submit to everything youlike to do. If you loved me, treated me as you ought to treat your wife, you'd send her away. Oh, I'm not jealous in a silly way--I know youaren't likely to make love to her----"

"_Toni!_" Owen's voice frightened her into silence. "Don't dare to putsuch a vulgar insinuation into words, if you please. If you are so lostto your own dignity and self-respect as your anger seems to imply, atleast remember that you are my wife, and don't let me hear such athoroughly degrading and unworthy remark from you again. "

"I _didn't_!" Toni, crimson-faced, had tears in her eyes. "I said Ididn't think it. It's not fair of you to pretend I did. .. . I onlymeant----"

"I'm afraid you don't know what you do mean, " said Owen, his anger dyingdown at the sight of her tears. "But in any case we had better drop thesubject. "

He paused for a moment, then something in Toni's forlorn aspect touchedhis heart and he spoke more kindly. 

"Come, Toni, don't let's make a scene over this. You're my wife, youknow--I didn't marry you because I wanted a secretary, I married youbecause I wanted you for my wife----"

"Even though you didn't love me. " Toni spoke quietly, even a littlesadly, and Owen's heart sank as he realized what her words implied. 

"I didn't love you?" For the life of him he did not know what to say. 

"No. I thought you did--but it doesn't matter, " said Toni a littledrearily. "I'm sorry I made a scene just now, Owen. Please forgive me. Iwon't do it again. "

And without waiting for a reply she opened the door and went out of theroom, leaving Owen staring after her, stirred to the depths of his soulby something he thought he had read in her usually child-like eyes. 

It was no child who had gazed at him as she spoke those last few words. It was a woman who had looked through Toni's Southern eyes in thatmoment of stress; and for the first time since his marriage, Owenwondered whether his estimate of Toni had been incorrect after all. 

He had thought her soulless, a pretty, light-hearted, unselfish littlecomrade, swayed by feminine whims and caprices, but incapable of risingto the stature of the perfect woman; and lo, in one moment ofunconscious revelation she had shown herself to him as a woman indeed, one who had realized that he had married her for some other cause thanlove, yet did not stoop to blame him. 

But if Toni were indeed a woman, one capable, moreover, of a totallyunexpected magnanimity, he had indeed been guilty of a serious mistake, and the very idea that he had misread Toni's character so hopelesslyfilled Owen with a humility as disturbing as it was complete. 

CHAPTER XXI

The immediate effect of the little scene at the breakfast table wasunfortunately that of an increased intimacy between Toni Rose andHerrick's wife. 

Although Toni's exit from the battlefield had been quiet and evendignified, she found it hard to forgive Owen's plain-speaking on thesubject of what he supposed to be her silly prejudice against MissLoder. He had called her conduct vulgar and ungenerous, had spoken, moreover, in the tone in which a harsh schoolmaster might censure anaughty child; and all her love for Owen could not prevent a feeling ofhumiliation which galled her sorely. 

The sight of Miss Loder, trim, competent, complacent, acted upon Toni'snerves in much the same way as the red rag is said to act on the nervoussystem of a bull. Although she dared not give vent openly to herdislike, Toni's behaviour towards her husband's secretary was by nomeans cordial; and Owen felt a slightly bitter resentment against hisyoung wife for what he considered her most unreasonable inability tounderstand his position. 

Millicent Loder was a god-send to a harassed literary man; and yet Owenbegan to wonder whether after this book were done it would be advisableto dispense with her services. That, however, seemed unfair to the girl, who liked her work with him, and would consider her dismissal uncalledfor; and Owen generally finished his mental discussion with a resolutionto ignore Toni's foolishness and trust to time to teach her toleration. 

It must be remembered that neither Toni nor her husband had theslightest notion of what lay beneath Miss Loder's calm exterior. Envy ofToni as Rose's wife, scorn of her as the mistress of a beautiful andstately house, mingled in Millicent's breast with a strong andunreasonable longing to attract Toni's husband to herself; and the veryfact that the marriage of these two was not what she called a success, lent additional keenness to all her emotions. 

Oddly enough, Mrs. Herrick saw Millicent in something very like her truelight, with a vision even clearer than that of the more interested Toni;and Eva Herrick, who since her imprisonment hated all men and mostwomen, was not ill-pleased by the spectacle of Toni's dislike for herhusband's secretary. 

Very adroitly Eva set herself to foster that dislike. Although she hadonly encountered Miss Loder twice--once on the occasion of a call paidin return for Toni's ceremonious call upon her, and again during a waitat the station for the London train, Mrs. Herrick had quickly realizedthat Miss Loder liked Toni little better than Toni cared for her; andEva was not the sort of woman to let any knowledge of that kind lieuseless. 

Without saying anything definite, she contrived to let Toni know shesympathized with her in the matter of Miss Loder's tenancy of thelibrary; and although Toni never let slip a word which might havesavoured of disloyalty to her husband, Mrs. Herrick knew, with a queer, uncanny shrewdness peculiar to her, that the girl's marriage was notaltogether happy. 

If it had been, it is improbable that Eva would have made a friend ofToni. As she said to herself now and again, she had no use for happypeople. Her own life was spoilt--that the spoiling was due to herselfshe would have been the last to acknowledge--and she was in no humour towatch other people making a success of their lives. What she wanted wasto see those around her as unhappy, as disillusioned, as discontented asherself; and all Toni's kindness, all her gentle, unselfishfriendliness, went for nothing when the opportunity arose for a furtherdarkening of Toni's already overshadowed sky. 

On the surface, however, all was serenity. Eva accepted Toni'scompanionship with outward gratitude, and when once Herrick wassatisfied that Toni knew what she was doing, he put no obstacles in theway of their better acquaintance. 

Afterwards he told himself that he should have known better than toallow his wife to take advantage of Toni's unworldliness; but at themoment he was only too glad to find Eva apparently sincere in her likingfor the simple-hearted Toni; and assuming, naturally, that Owen did notdisapprove of the growing intimacy, he watched the affair with agratitude made natural by his intense pity for his wife. 

One day Mrs. Herrick asked Toni to accompany her to Sutton, where shehad made an appointment for twelve o'clock. It appeared that she hadsuffered agonies of toothache while in prison, and although theauthorities had done all they could for her, she was again in urgentneed of a dentist's services. She had been informed of the arrival of anew practitioner in the little town, who came from a London practice;and to Toni's mingled surprise and dismay she found herself invited toaccompany Mrs. Herrick on a visit to Mr. Dowson's surgery. 

On the spur of the moment she confessed to a previous acquaintance withMr. Dowson; and Eva thereupon plied her with questions as to hisproficiency in his work. 

"I don't want my teeth breaking or my jaw dislocating, " she said. "Doyou think the man's any good? It's such a bore to have to go up to townevery time. Has he ever done any work for you?"

Toni, who had never had toothache in her life, was obliged to reply inthe negative; but assured Eva that Mr. Dowson had an excellentreputation in Brixton. 

"Well, I wrote and fixed up an appointment with him, " said Evacarelessly, "so I suppose I'd better go. But if he isn't any good Ishan't go again. "

"I'll run you over in the car, " said Toni eagerly, "and we'll go on tolunch somewhere. Miss Loder leaves early to-day, so it doesn't matterabout my not being at home. "

Mrs. Herrick accepted the offer promptly, and at five minutes pasttwelve the big car pulled up in front of Mr. Dowson's modest house, muchto the excitement of the school children, who were at that momentreleased from the school-buildings at the end of the street. 

A quiet little maid showed the visitors into the usual depressingwaiting-room; and reappeared two minutes later to conduct them into thetorture chamber itself; and since Eva flatly refused to go alone, Toniperforce accompanied her into the operator's presence. 

Mr. Dowson's pale face lighted up at the sight of Toni with a radiancewhich even the self-engrossed Eva could not fail to note. He recollectedhimself sufficiently to shake hands professionally with his patient, butToni he greeted warmly, as an old friend. 

He had never dreamed of such a glorious happening as this visit. Thedingy room was transfigured by Toni's presence therein; and his long, white, carefully-manicured hands were absolutely unsteady as he openedhis little cabinet and selected one or two tiny but deadly-lookinginstruments from the shining rows within. 

Toni, for her part, was occupied in thanking the Providence which hadseen fit to equip her with a set of perfectly sound white teeth; and shefelt an intense sympathy with the hapless Eva, whose nerves, underminedby her late experience, were already betraying her into signs ofagitation. 

"I won't hurt you, really, " said Mr. Dowson, with a beaming smile, whichhe felt to be out of place, but could not restrain. "Please lean back alittle more--so. Now open--just a _leetle_ wider--thank you, that willdo. "

It was soon evident that the visit could not be prolonged. Although hehad not the clue to his patient's intense nervousness, Mr. Dowson'sprofessional instincts warned him that he must go warily: and while hewould willingly have detained Mrs. Herrick, if by such means he couldenjoy the felicity of Toni's companionship a little longer, hisconscientious spirit forced him to cut the sitting short. 

Another appointment was made for the following week; and after thatthere were others, to all of which Toni accompanied her quaking friend. After four or five visits, however, Toni was unlucky enough to contracta chill during an unusually prolonged motor-ride; and Mrs. Herrick wasforced to go alone. 

It was Leonard Dowson's intense consternation when told of Toni'sillness which first opened Eva's eyes to the seriousness of hisdevotion. She had seen from the beginning that he admired the girl, thathe listened attentively to her lightest word; but she had not realizedthat Mr. Dowson was really and irrevocably in love with Toni; and it isonly fair to the young man to say that he was quite unconscious of hisself-betrayal. 

He had not been able to hide his anxiety on hearing of Toni'sindisposition. With all the exaggeration of true love he immediatelyfeared the worst; and even Eva's callous heart was touched by hisincapacity to ask for news on the day of her second visit alone. 

He had stammered out a broken question, exhibiting a rather absurdconcern over an ordinary slight chill; and when Eva replied casuallythat she had heard Toni was going on very well, she noticed, with ahalf-contemptuous amusement, that he had to turn aside and wipe away thedrops which glistened on his high forehead. 

It was during that second visit that an idea came to Eva, bringing amalicious little smile to her lips in the intervals of Leonard'sministrations. 

"You've known Toni--Mrs. Rose--a long time, I suppose?" She asked thequestion casually as she put on her hat before the glass. "You werefriends before her marriage, weren't you?"

"Yes. I had the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Rose some years before that. "

"Really? You knew her as a child?"

"She was just fifteen when I saw her first, " said Leonard, his voicehusky with the emotion called up by the reminiscence. "It was herbirthday, I remember, and one of her cousins asked me to go home to teawith him. They were great people for birthdays, her relations. "

"Were they?" Eva adjusted her veil carefully. "Friendly, sociable sortof people, I suppose. Was Mr. Rose there that night?"

"Mr. Rose?" For a moment Leonard, lost in dreams of the past, stareduncomprehendingly. Then he pulled himself together vigorously. "No, Mr. Rose was not there in those days. He--he came on the scene much laterthan that. "

"Did he? Was he also a friend of Mrs. Rose's cousins?"

"Oh, no. " Mr. Dowson became emphatic. "Nothing of that sort. Toni--MissGibbs she was then--met him in the course of business. As a matter offact, she was his secretary. And then he fell in love with her; and thenext thing was that they were married. " His tone was dreary. 

"Ah, well, I don't wonder he fell in love. " Eva watched him closelythrough the mirror as she spoke. "I have no doubt Mrs. Rose had heaps ofadmirers at that time. Why, Mr. Dowson"--she spoke laughingly--"whatwere you about not to seize such a prize before an outsider sailed inand captured it?"

Leonard's pallor gave way to an unbecoming brick-red flush, and hisvoice shook as he replied:

"I . .. I wasn't lucky, you see. I--I would have given my life for thatgirl, Mrs. Herrick, and she--she wouldn't have me at any price. "

His tone of desperate sincerity told Eva all she wanted to know; and ina moment she switched the conversation back to safer ground. 

"You needn't give your life for her, Mr. Dowson, but I'll tell you whatyou can do. You can lend me your _Punch_ to take her. I promised tobring her a copy from Dent's, and he is sold out. "

Mr. Dowson was genuinely delighted to follow the suggestion and insistedon depleting the table in his waiting-room of various periodicals whichmight relieve the tedium of a day in bed; and Eva took the bundleamiably, promising to deliver them in person to Toni on her way home. 

She fulfilled her mission punctually; and when Owen, unaware of herpresence in the house, came to see how his wife was getting on, he foundher bed literally strewn with the papers which should have soothed thefears of the quaking patients in Mr. Dowson's gloomy waiting-room. 

"Hallo, Toni. " He turned to her smilingly, after greeting Eva. "I hopeyou've got plenty to read. I didn't know you hankered after theillustrated papers, or I'd have sent out for some. It's very good ofMrs. Herrick to bring you such an assortment. "

"Ah, but these were sent by a friend of your wife's, " smiled Evasweetly. "I'm not the principal party in the transaction--I'm only themiddleman. "

"Really? Who has been so generous then?" asked Owen, taking up one ofthe papers at random as he spoke. 

"Mr. Dowson, the dentist at Sutton, " said Eva, turning her large Irisheyes on him pleasantly. "You know, of course, he is an old friend ofMrs. Rose's, and I must say he is a most gentle and satisfactory personin his work. "

"A dentist? Dowson?" Owen's eyes roamed from Eva's face to Toni's, andsomething in the manner of both girls puzzled him. "I don't know him, doI, Toni? Is he really an old friend of yours? But you've never asked himhere, have you?"

"He--he's not exactly an old friend, " said Toni, annoyed to feel herselfcolouring. "I mean--oh, I've known him a long time in a way--he was afriend of the boys--my cousins, but that was all. And anyway he has notbeen here long. "

"Oh. " Owen was still vaguely perplexed by her manner. "Well, if he's adecent chap you must ask him over. "

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't come. " Toni spoke quickly. "He is not yoursort, Owen. I mean--I don't think he would care to come. Do you, Mrs. Herrick?"

Thus appealed to, Eva gave her verdict with a show of hesitation. 

"N-no, I hardly think he would. " She turned to Owen. "I don't think Iwould ask him, if I were you, Mr. Rose. I expect it would make him feela little--well, awkward. "

"But----" Owen did not know what to make of it. "You see, if he issufficiently intimate with my wife to send her all these papers andthings, it looks rather odd if I take no notice of him, doesn't it? Ireally think we must ask him over when Toni is herself again, eh, Toni?"

"I wouldn't, Mr. Rose. " Eva threw a deep earnestness into her melodiousIrish voice. "Really--it's not my business, of course, but if I were youI'd not bother about the matter. "

She saw the look of uneasiness in Owen's eyes, and knew she had saidenough. 

"Is it really five o'clock!" She jumped up in pretended dismay. "And Ipromised Jim faithfully I'd be back by half-past four. He gets fidgetywhen I'm out of his sight for long--thinks I'm getting into mischief, Isuppose. "

She laughed rather hardly, and Owen felt an inner repulsion to the womanwho could thus misconstrue her husband's consideration. He watched herbid Toni an effusive farewell and then escorted her downstairs, andstood talking to her for a few moments at the hall door. 

Somehow he had never liked her so little as on this afternoon; andalthough he admitted that she was a pretty woman in her way, he toldhimself that her face was curiously unattractive. 

She looked better now than on her first arrival in the neighbourhood, less haggard, a little plumper, but as he compared her dulled and fadedbeauty with Toni's youthful bloom he wondered, not for the first time, if her companionship were altogether innocuous. 

He was still puzzling over the question when he re-entered Toni's room;and his first words showed her what was in his mind. 

"Rather bad taste--that allusion to her husband's anxiety. Don't youthink so, Toni? After all, he might well be uneasy about a woman who hasonce got into such serious mischief as she has done. "

"Why? It's not likely to happen again. " Toni, poring over _Punch_, spokeshortly. 

"No, of course not. " Owen hesitated, but as Toni evinced no signs ofwishing to continue the conversation he went out of the room hurriedly, leaving his wife alone with the evidences of Mr. Dowson's good-will. 

The next time Eva visited Toni she said jocularly:

"Well, I do think you're mean, Toni!" They had recently advanced to thisstage of intimacy. "Fancy not telling me that Mr. Dowson had onceproposed to you. "

Toni, taken aback, blushed vividly. 

"He didn't--at least--not exactly. I mean----"

"Oh, I know what you mean!" Eva laughed. "Of course you couldn't haveaccepted him--he's a nice fellow in his way, but impossible as ahusband. " At times Squire Payton's daughter was quite blatantlyaristocratic. "But you might have told me, all the same. "

"Why? It doesn't matter--now. "

"Not to you, dear. " Eva jeered lightly. "But the poor fellow is quiteupset at meeting you again. He told me to-day he would never marry, andwhen I asked him why he said surely I could guess. "

"Very impertinent of him, " said Toni sharply; and Eva smiled inwardly. 

"Oh, you mustn't blame him, Toni. I'm afraid it was my fault. We Irishare so sympathetic, you know--people always tell us their secrets. Andanyhow there is nothing to be ashamed of. If he likes to go adoring youprivately, you needn't be angry. "

She said no more just then, for Toni's manner displayed her displeasure;but Eva smiled again when she was alone; and her warped and twisted mindseized eagerly on the idea of the very amusing situation which a littlecareful engineering might bring to pass. 

Like all true intriguers, Eva kept her thoughts to herself; and Toni hadnot the faintest idea of the plans which her so-called friend turnedabout in her mind as the autumn days glided swiftly by under the goldenand blue skies of a perfect season. 

CHAPTER XXII

Owen and his wife were sitting at dinner one evening when a note wasbrought to Owen whose contents brought an angry exclamation to his lipsas he, read. 

"By gad, Toni, this is a bit thick! What the devil does the woman mean?"

Toni, suddenly pale, bit her lips, while her eyes filled withapprehension. 

"I . .. Who is it from, Owen? What does it say?"

"There--read it yourself, " said Owen, throwing the blue-grey sheetacross the table. "I suppose there is some explanation, though I confessI can't understand it--yet. "

Still deadly pale, her eyes shining like blue jewels, Toni took up thesheet and read the letter which Lady Martin had written with so muchsatisfaction a couple of hours earlier. 

 "DEAR MR. ROSE, "After the occurrence of this afternoon I am sure you will see the advisability of Mrs. Rose's resignation from the Badminton Club. It is with great regret that I suggest this course; but after the scene which took place this afternoon, in the presence of a dozen members and several visitors, among them Lady Saxonby, a former friend of your own, I speak for the Committee when I request you to advise your wife to resign for the present season at least. "

Toni laid the paper quietly down on the table and spoke to Owen with amingling of terror and defiance in her tone. 

"Well?"

"Well?" Owen reached across the table and picked up the letter. "What isall this about, Toni? Why should you be requested to resign?"

"I don't know"--Toni began in a lifeless voice; then suddenly--"yes, Ido know. It's all a plot of Lady Martin's and Mrs. Madgwick's. They hateme, I always told you so--and now they want to make you hate me too. "

"But what happened this afternoon?"

"Oh, it's a long story. " Toni spoke recklessly. "To begin with, I waselected to the Club a long time ago--in September; and when Mrs. Herrickcame home she wanted to be a member too. I tried to get her in, but theydidn't want her----"

"Of course not. " Owen frowned. "You never seem to understand, Toni, thatall people are not so unworldly as you. It was a mistake for Mrs. Herrick to attempt to enter a private club of that sort so soon. Sheshould have waited until the scandal had blown over. "

"Well, she was very disappointed about it. But every member can take afriend in once a month, so I took Eva this afternoon. "

She broke off in dismay. 

"Oh, Toni, will you never learn sense?" In spite of himself Owen spokesharply. "Of all the foolish things to do! Well, what happened when yougot there?"

"People weren't very nice. " Toni flushed again at the memory of thewhispers and averted faces which had greeted her entrance with Mrs. Herrick. "But we just sat down and watched, and everything would havebeen all right if Lady Martin hadn't interfered. "

"What did she do?"

"She had a woman with her--Lady Saxonby, someone called her--and sheheard me addressed as Mrs. Rose, and turned to me at once and asked meif I were your wife. "

"She did? By Jove!" Owen guessed that Vivian's curiosity had nerved herto the step. 

"Yes. So I said I was, and she was beginning to talk to me--quitepolitely--but somehow as if she were taking me in all the time----"

Owen could well imagine how Lady Saxonby's eyes would scrutinize theface of the girl with whom he had consoled himself after her defection;and he felt both anger and surprise at the thought of the scrutiny. 

"Well, go on. " Insensibly his tone had hardened, and Toni hurried on. 

"Well, as she was talking to me, Lady Martin came up and tried to drawher away, but she wouldn't go. So Lady Martin got vexed, I suppose, andshe bent down and whispered something to her--something about Eva, because I heard the words 'necklace' and 'prison' quite plainly, and Evaheard it too and turned crimson. "

"And then?"

"Then Lady Saxonby looked straight at me and asked me to give you amessage. "

"Did she?" Owen was astonished. "What was it?"

"She asked me to say that she hoped you had forgiven her and were ashappy as she is. "

"Gad, what impertinence!" He flushed darkly. "She had no right to sendme such a message; it was nothing but a piece of unwarranted presumptionon her part. "

"Was it?" Toni spoke rather wistfully. "You see, I didn't know at firstwho she was, and I thought she meant to be quite decent. But then Evajumped up and said very quickly that the woman who had jilted anhonourable man ought to be ashamed of sending such a message throughthat man's wife--and when I said something she told me that Lady Saxonbywas the woman who threw you over when you came home, for all the worldto see. "

Owen, vexed to the soul by the thought of this miserable publicity, sethis teeth hard and said nothing; and Toni hurried on. 

"Well, then there was a scene. Lady Saxonby turned on Eva quitefuriously, and said she had no right to talk of anyone being ashamed ofanything, seeing that everyone knew what she had done. And then all theother women crowded round, and Eva lost her temper, and said it wasquite true and she had been in prison and was a criminal and all that, but she'd sooner be that than a dishonourable, mercenary woman who wouldjilt one man because another had more money and a title . .. And . .. Oh, there was a most frightful row, and the end was that the secretaryhurried up and asked me to take Eva away quickly before she said anymore. She was awfully cross, and said I ought not to have brought Mrs. Herrick, and that Lady Saxonby would be sure to talk, and the Club wouldbe ruined. "

"So you came away?"

"Yes. Eva was horribly upset--you know her nerves are all wrong--and shefainted dead away in the hall and they had to send for a doctor and wetook her home . .. And altogether, " said Toni, breaking at last intotears, "it was a fearful scene, and I wish I'd never gone near theClub!"

"I wish to God you hadn't!" Owen sprang up, more upset than he cared toconfess. He could visualize the whole scene: Vivian, with her beautiful, scornful face, taunting Eva, playing the hypocrite with Toni, andsending insulting messages to the man she had jilted; and the merethought of the talk, the gossip, the raking up of old stories whichwould inevitably follow, set all his nerves jarring furiously. 

Even the sight of Toni's tears did not soften his heart. Rather he feltexasperated with her, since it was her folly which had precipitated thewhole scene. 

"Come, don't cry, " he said rather curtly. "You've done a very sillything, and goodness knows where it will end; but it's no use crying andmaking yourself ill. "

Naturally his tone did not tend to set his wife at ease; and she criedthe more. 

"Oh, for goodness' sake, stop!" Owen felt himself to be a brute, but thethought of Vivian's malice was gall to his spirit. "The mischief's done, and crying won't undo it. But I hope you've learned a lesson, Toni; Ialways told you it was a mistake to go about with that woman, and youwouldn't believe me. Well, now you see what's happened. You've made usboth ridiculous in the eyes of the world, and we shall be more severelyostracized than ever. "

Suddenly Toni's tears ceased and she raised her head to stare at him. 

"You mean people will be horrid--to you--about it?"

"Well, naturally, they'll think me a fool for encouraging you, " saidOwen rather irritably. "If only you would have been guided by me! Butit's been the same all through. You chose to go your own way, and theend will be that we shall have to leave Greenriver and go to livesomewhere else. "

"Leave Greenriver?" She echoed the words dully. 

"Well, what can we do?" He spoke impatiently. "You have never seemedvery happy here, so far as the people go. And now, after this _fiasco_, we may expect the neighbourhood to drop us altogether. "

"Drop us?"

"Well, you know what I mean. Oh, I don't care two straws about thepeople themselves. They're a stupid lot anyway, and too conventional toknow how to got the best out of life. But still--Greenriver's my home, and I thought we should learn to settle down here. "

"And I've prevented you?"

"Well, you've never hit it off with the people, have you? And after thisI don't see how we can settle down. I'm not going to have peopleneglecting my wife or being rude to her, but still this Badminton Clubaffair is a pretty big slap in the face for both of us. "

Toni, resting her small chin on the cup of her hollowed hands, stared athim thoughtfully, and in her eyes, still wet with tears, he caught againthat elusive hint of a tragic womanhood which had puzzled him on aformer occasion. 

"Eva was right, " she said, and her voice was low. "She said I was out ofplace here, and so I am. "

"Mrs. Herrick said that?" Owen's anger suddenly swung round. "Then itwas a damned silly thing to say, and I'm surprised you listened to it. "

"But she was right. She said everyone wondered why you married me; andnow that I have seen Lady Saxonby, I wonder too. "

Owen's heart sank. 

"Toni, what do you mean?"

"I mean that I understand now. Lady Saxonby was the woman you were tohave married. She is very beautiful, " said Toni simply. "And she wouldhave been the right mistress for Greenriver. I can't understand how itwas you married me. Eva said--when we were driving home--that it musthave been pique. She said you wanted to show the other woman you did notcare . .. And when I thought about it, I saw that it was true. "

"Toni, it wasn't true. " All thought of personal anger was swallowed upin Owen's sudden longing to convince the girl that Eva had lied. "Imarried you because"--in spite of himself he faltered--"because I lovedyou. What if Vivian did treat me badly? I was well out of it, since shewas a woman of that kind. "

"Oh, I don't mind--now, " said Toni, with a faint smile. "I did at first. When Lady Martin and Mrs. Madgwick said it, last summer, I thought myheart would break; but I suppose I got used to the idea, and when I sawLady Saxonby to-day I knew it was just one of the things that no one canhelp. "

Owen, not understanding her, only stared. 

"You see, I knew all the time it wasn't likely, really, that you wouldcare for me, " said Toni quietly. "I tried to make myself believe youdid, but I don't think I ever _really_ believed it. Only I was so fondof you--you were so kind--and when we were married you were so good tome that I began to hope you might grow fond of me in time. "

"Toni--for God's sake----"

"But I soon found out it was a mistake--our marriage--for you. I wasn'thalf clever enough. I was only an ignorant, silly, unformed girl, andyou were so different. Oh, I tried my hardest to improve. I wanted toprove to you that I wasn't quite such a little fool as you thought me. Iwanted to show you I had a soul--Mr. Herrick said I had, and I tried tomake myself more companionable to you--oh, I know I didn't succeed verywell, " said Toni humbly, "but, you see, you didn't understand. I onlybothered you when I tried to help you in your work; and of course youdidn't want to talk to me about the things that really mattered to you. "

"Toni--Toni--don't say such things. "

"But you were always kind, " said Toni wistfully, "and I sometimeswondered if I had been wrong and you did care for me a little. But Ialways knew, deep down in my heart, that it was all a mistake, andnow"--suddenly the composure which had supported her so far gaveway--"now I know I ought not to have married you--and--and I'm sorry, Owen--I'm most frightfully sorry----"

All at once she pressed her hands to her eyes as though to shut out thesight of his face; and then, as he started forward, vague words ofcomfort on his lips, she flung her arms out over the table and laid herhead down on them in an attitude of utter desolation. 

For a moment Owen stood motionless, while the light from the rose-shadedcandles played over the silky black hair and cast a pool of red colouron the smooth white neck rising out of its chiffon draperies. The scenewas one which would never fade from Owen's memory; and in after days hecould visualize it to the minutest detail. 

The red and yellow of the chrysanthemums in a big silver bowl, thepurple bloom of the piled-up grapes before Toni, the ruby of the wine inthe decanters, the reflections cast by the candles in the shiningsurface of the uncovered table, the ruddy glow of the firelight playingover Toni's pale-coloured skirts--to the day of his death Owen would beable to recall the scene at will: and never would he forget the chill inhis veins as he realized that the girl he had thought a child was awoman after all. .. . 

"Toni--Toni dear. " He laid his hand on her shoulder. "For heaven's sake, Toni, look up and tell me you don't mean all the terrible things you'vebeen saying. Of course I love you. Why, haven't I shown you that allalong? Toni, don't let those silly women and their chatter hurt you. Youcan believe me, can't you? And I tell you I married you because I lovedyou--and Lady Saxonby and all the rest can go to Jericho!"

He half thought he had won her ear; in another moment he felt sure hewould have had her in his arms, sobbing her heart out--since she mustcry--in the safe shelter of his breast; but at that moment the youngbutler, deceived by the low voices into thinking the room empty, enteredbriskly to fulfil his duties; and Toni sprang up before Andrews had timeto advance round the big screen, which fortunately hid her from hiseyes. 

Owen swore softly under his breath at this most untimely interruption;but Toni was already half-way to the door, and he judged it best toengage Andrews in conversation about the wine and leave Toni to seek thesanctuary she desired. 

 * * * * *

The next day the Secretary of the Badminton Club received Mrs. Rose'sresignation; and there, for the present, the matter ended. 

CHAPTER XXIII

When Toni related the episode of Lady Martin's note to Eva Herrick, thelatter asked a startling question. 

"Toni, why don't you leave your husband?"

"Leave my husband?" Toni stared at her, wide-eyed. 

"Yes. Oh, anyone can see you're neither of you happy. Mr. Rose knows allthe time that he ought not to have married you just to get even withthat horrid Saxonby woman, and anyhow you're not the least bit in theworld suited to one another. "

Toni was very pale. 

"You don't think so?"

"I'm sure of it. " Eva threw away the cigarette she held and sat upright. "You ought to have married a man who would love you whatever youdid--who wouldn't want you to be booky and clever, but would think youperfect in every way. Not a man who feels himself superior to you halfthe time, and finds fault the other half. "

"But my husband doesn't find fault. " She spoke in a low voice. 

"Doesn't he? Well, it sounds like it, " said Eva, piling the cushionsbehind her curly golden head. "I heard him scolding you over a bookyou'd mislaid one day, and he nearly jumped down your throat about MissLoder this very morning. "

"That was entirely my fault, " said Toni quickly; and Eva saw that if shewere to succeed in her malicious project she must change her plan ofattack. 

Being as quick-witted as she was cruel, she adopted a new methodinstantly. 

"Of course. I was only joking. Seriously, I think Mr. Rose iswonderfully good. I'm sure it would hurt him awfully to think he hadbeen unkind or impatient with you, Toni. After all, he married you toplease himself, didn't he? And it's not a bit fair to you to visit it onyour head afterwards. "

"To visit--what, Eva?"

"Why, I hardly know what to say. " Eva smiled subtly to herself. "Ofcourse, it may be only my imagination. I daresay you make Mr. Rose ashappy as any woman could do. I expect he works too hard and that's whyhe looks so worried. "

"Does he look worried?" queried Toni softly. "I suppose I ought to havenoticed it--but----"

"But you didn't?" Eva leaned across and patted the girl's arm. "Nevermind, dear, it's probably my fancy. I daresay Mr. Rose is not a verylively person at any time--and, after all, one can't always be feelingcheerful. "

"You mean, " said Toni, who, like other primitive people, was apt to bedisconcertingly outspoken, "you mean that Owen--my husband--isn't happy. At least--is that what you mean?"

"Well, I suppose I did mean that, " said Eva with pretended reluctance. "But it's all nonsense--I had no business to say it, Toni. Do forget it, will you?"

"No. " Toni spoke very quietly. "I shan't forget it. But I want to know alittle more. You think Owen is unhappy because he is married to me. Doyou think he would be happier if I went away and left him? Is that whatyou are too kind, too generous to imply?"

Eva's heart gave a sudden throb. Her first aim in life ever since theprison gates clanged behind her at the end of her term of confinementhad been to do some harm in the world, to make up for the injury whichshe considered had been done to her; and no weak emotions such as pityor generosity could be allowed to hold her back. 

To her oddly-perverted mind, it seemed that if she could persuade Tonito leave her husband, to wreck her home and her future, she would havegot "her own back" to a considerable degree; and she had a double motivein her hatred of Owen, who, as she well knew, distrusted her personallyand disliked her friendship with his young wife. 

Any person connected with a big penal settlement will tell you thatthere is never any certainty as to the moral result of a term ofimprisonment on any given prisoner. 

To some natures, the punishment may be both a deterrent and an excellentlesson, while to others the educational value may be great and thedeterrent effect almost _nil_; but in one class of prisoner--the classto which Eva Herrick belonged--imprisonment wakes only the worst andbasest of all emotions, a desire, perforce stifled during the period ofpunishment, for revenge. 

That she had suffered, on the whole, justly, never weighed for oneinstant with Eva herself. That she had been guilty of a crime was lessthan nothing. What did weigh with her was the fact that she had beenfound out, and forced to undergo a humiliating and degrading punishment;and from the moment when she came to her senses after the swoon whichhad mercifully cut short the scene in court, Eva Herrick's whole beinghad been in revolt against a world where such things were allowed to be. 

Her whole pleasure, indeed, while in prison, had been found in planninghow, in the future, she could render miserable the life of the husbandwho had not, so she considered, stood by her; and it was a bitterdisappointment to her to find that try as she might she could nottorture him to the breaking-point. 

He met her most poisoned and bitter shafts with a patience whichnothing, it seemed, could pierce. When she taunted him, he only smiled;and when she reviled him he left her presence; so that the only way inwhich she could win any satisfaction was by detailing to him exaggeratedaccounts of the treatment she had received in prison. 

These stories, untrue and impossible as many of them were, made himwince, not knowing indeed how cunning was the invention behind them; andmany times when she was more maddening than usual, Herrick schooledhimself to patience by reminding himself of the drastic punishmentswhich had apparently been meted out to her. 

When at length she found that Jim was impervious to her stings, Evalooked around her for another victim; and found one in the person ofToni Rose. 

It did not take Eva long to read, more or less correctly, the positionbetween Toni and her husband; and although she was quite shrewd enoughto realize that the situation would probably adjust itself in time, Evawas determined to prevent any such adjustment with every weapon in herpower. 

Unhappily it proved only too easy for a woman such as she was to directthe affair pretty much as she willed it; and her suggestion to Toni thatshe should leave her husband had been carefully led up to by scores ofinsinuations, of carelessly-dropped hints, and scraps of repeatedconversations heard on the subject of the Roses' married life. 

She was careful to let none of the elation she felt escape her as shereplied to Toni's speech after a significant pause. 

"Put that way, it sounds dreadful, " she said, pretending to shudder. "Idon't think I really meant that. I only thought that perhaps--yourhusband is a writer, you know, an artist--with the artistic temperament, I suppose; and everyone knows that genius is difficult to live with. "

"I don't care for myself, " said Toni hastily. "I could always behappy--with Owen--but if you really think I spoil his life----"

"Oh, don't say that, dear. " Eva spoke soothingly. "I daresay I amentirely mistaken. Of course, you know best how you get on; and afterall Mr. Rose is so keen on his work he hasn't much time for outsidethings. "

"I wonder what Owen would say--or do--if I left him?" She spokemusingly; and Eva's heart beat tumultuously as she noted the result ofher tentative suggestion. 

"Go after you and bring you back, I expect. " Such was Eva's reply. 

"Then there wouldn't be much use in going, " said Toni quickly, and Evaread the relief in her eyes. 

"No--not if you went like that. " Her tone was purposely cryptic. 

"But--how else should I go?"

"Why, if you really wanted to go----" Eva broke off with a laugh. "Don'tbe so silly, Toni. You talk as though I had really meant my stupidsuggestion. "

"Didn't you mean it?" Toni's gaze was disconcerting. 

"Why, of course not. Come, Toni, let's have tea. I'll send for Jim, too. It's getting quite dark. "

"Wait a moment, " said Toni. "Eva, if I made up my mind to leaveOwen--for his own sake--how could I prevent him fetching me back?"

"You really mean it?" Eva's tone sent a chill through Toni's veins. "Supposing you really saw that it was for Owen's good--that by remainingwith him you were spoiling his life, ruining his career--making himunhappy, in short--you mean in _that_ case how could you prevent himsearching for you?"

"Yes, " Toni said, her eyes on the fire, "that is what I mean. "

"There's only one way, Toni. " She was careful to speak lightly. "If youwent away with another man----" for a moment even her nerve failed her, but she conquered her weakness and went on calmly, and her grey Irisheyes were as cold as ice as she looked at Toni. "Then your husband wouldprobably divorce you, and devote himself to his career. "

For a second Toni's pallor alarmed her. All the girl's colour died away, leaving her curiously white round the mouth, a sign of emotion to whichEva was not blind; and Mrs. Herrick wondered, uneasily, if Toni wereabout to faint. 

But Toni was in no fainting mood. 

"You think that, Eva? You think that if I were gone--out of his lifealtogether--Owen would forget me and find happiness in his work?"

"I think so, yes. Oh, Toni, I know I seem unkind, " said Eva, Judas-like. "Believe me I wouldn't have told you if you hadn't pressed me. It onlystruck me that perhaps--you will forgive me, dear?--perhaps you didn'tmanage to make your husband very happy--and if you really did want himto forget you----"

"No, I don't make him happy, " said Toni with a sigh. "It is funny, isn'tit, when I love him so much? But you're right in one thing. I amspoiling his life; and my going away won't help him unless I go forgood. "

"If you merely go, without any apparent reason, your husband will bemiserable, unsettled, give up everything to find you, to bring youback----"

She was startled by a sudden exclamation from Toni. 

"But, Eva, if you're so sure he'd want me back----"

"Why should you go?" Eva smiled a little, patiently. "Don't you see, dear, if you go like that, Mr. Rose will be so alarmed, so upset, thatof course he'll want to find you. He would think you'd perhaps run awaybecause you were unhappy, and he'd do all he could to get you back onyour own account. Oh, I know Mr. Rose is very fond of you, Toni"--somehow her very inflection made Toni's conception of Owen's loveshrivel into nothingness--"and he couldn't rest if he thought you wereunhappy. He would bring you back, and things would be just the sameagain. He would do his work, helped by Miss Loder, I suppose, and youwould go on as you are now. After all, Toni, you know you have a lot tobe grateful for. "

She looked at the girl to see how far she might safely go, but Toninever moved; and Eva was emboldened to proceed. 

"You have a lovely home--Greenriver is quite a show place, and afterall, you and your husband never quarrel, do you? So that on the wholeyou'd be a little fool if you gave up all these very substantialbenefits. Eh, Toni?"

Eva was clever. She knew exactly the spur to apply to Toni's flaggingmood, and she smiled to herself when she heard Toni's reply. 

"Do you think I would hesitate to give up Greenriver--and all therest--to make my husband happy?"

And looking at her Eva knew she would not. Mistaken, Toni might oftenbe--foolish, self-willed, a little intolerant of advice; but she wouldnever be selfish. If she could be convinced that her departure would bebeneficial to the man she loved, she would certainly leave him, thoughit broke her heart to go. 

"No, of course not. " Eva spoke a trifle vaguely. "But you couldn't go, Toni. It would be impossible. Why, your husband would think you weremad. "

"Would he? Perhaps I am. " Toni's smile was a little melancholy. "Sometimes I think this is all a dream--that I'm not Owen's wife atall--that Greenriver and the gardens and everything else are merelyimagination. I can't believe it's true. If it is, how is it thateverything has gone so terribly, horribly wrong?"

She paused, gazing before her with puzzled eyes. 

"I thought once that if I married Owen I should be the happiest girl inthe world. But I'm not. I'm the most miserable. I--sometimes I wish--oh, I don't know what I wish!"

"Come, Toni"--Eva rose as though to change the subject--"you mustn't beso despondent. Let me ring the bell--it's nearly five, and I'm sure youwant a cup of tea. "

"Not yet, Eva. " In Toni's voice was a new note, a note of decision, which Eva's ear was quick to detect. "When you say I should go away withanother man, who had you in your mind?"

A moment Eva waited. Then:

"I meant the man who has the misfortune to adore you, Toni, the man whogave up everything, his practice, his prospects, London, everything, foryour sake. You know the man I mean. You know as well as I do thatLeonard Dowson adores the very ground you walk on. "

"Leonard Dowson!" Toni smiled drearily. "Think of leaving _Owen_ forLeonard Dowson!"

"Oh, I know he's not in the same class, " said Eva, with ostentatiousfrankness, "and I don't for a moment suppose he would make you happy. I'm afraid I wasn't thinking much of you, dear, when I mentioned hisname. Somehow I forgot that you have as much right to happiness asanyone. "

"_My_ happiness doesn't matter, " said Toni for the second time. "But Ithink you are wrong, Eva. Mr. Dowson never thinks of me--now. "

"Doesn't he?" Eva permitted herself to smile. "My dear child, he's justcrazy about you. He told me all about it one day when you weren'tthere--how he'd loved you for years and years and was heart-broken whenyou refused him. He only came down here to be near you, and if you wouldonly smile on him a little he would do anything in the world for you. "

"He wouldn't give up his work for me, Eva. "

"Ah, you haven't heard of his good luck. " Eva had carefully refrainedfrom the announcement until the moment was ripe. "He has just come intosome money--nearly two hundred a year; and he can chuck dentistryto-morrow, if he likes. "

"Even then, he wouldn't want a scandal----"

"Oh, Toni, I could shake you, " said Eva, sitting down with a thump onthe sofa near her. "Because some people have not got red blood in theirveins, you think no one has. I tell you Leonard Dowson would throw upeverything to-morrow--brave any amount of scandal, if only you would gowith him. He could take you abroad somewhere, America perhaps; and then, when your husband had got his divorce, you could marry Leonard andsettle down as nicely as possible. Then Owen would be free to do as hechose with his life, and this unhappy state of things would beforgotten. "

"Marry him? Marry Leonard Dowson?" Even yet Toni could not assimilatethe idea. 

"Well, why not? He is madly in love with you, Toni. He would give upeverything in the world for you, and I honestly think that things areimpossible as they are. But of course you know better than I do, and ifyou feel you must stay with your husband----"

"No--no. " Toni's breath came in short gasps, as though she had beenrunning. "I can't stay with Owen. I make him miserable, he's ashamed ofme--I'm no good to him, only a bore--a useless creature who's tied tohim . .. If I were gone he would be really better off--and as you say, hecould marry again----"

"I don't suppose he would do that, " said Eva gently. "You know he _is_very fond of you, Toni--I got even Jim to acknowledge that the othernight"--she watched Toni wince at the "even"--"and it's only thatyou--well, you're not quite his sort, somehow. "

Her words seemed to rouse Toni to anger. 

"You have said that already, " she said sharply. "You needn't repeat it. "

"I'm sorry, Toni. " Eva's big eyes looked imploringly into hers. "I'mafraid I've said far too much to-day. After all, I have no earthly rightto interfere, and you are quite justified in resenting my interference. "

Toni's sudden anger died away. 

"Oh, you were quite right, " she said, sighing as she spoke. 

"I'm glad you said what you did--and I can't help knowing you are right. Only"--she shivered, and her face looked white and pinched--"somehowuntil I heard you saying it I hoped I myself was making a mistake. "

"But--you'll not do anything rash?" Eva was vaguely uneasy at the resultof her plot. 

"Oh, no, I'll do nothing rash, " said Toni, with a queer smile; and Eva'suneasiness deepened. 

Luckily for her their conversation was cut short at that moment by theentrance of Herrick, accompanied by Olga, and followed by the maidbearing the tea-tray. 

When the lamp had been lighted and the maid had withdrawn, Herrick shota glance at the face of his wife's visitor; and he saw at once thatsomething was wrong. 

He did not betray his knowledge by the slightest sign; but talked to thetwo girls in his usual kindly, whimsical fashion while Eva dispensedtea. 

"All the boats are really put away for the winter now, " he saidpresently. "I think yours--and ours--have been the last, Mrs. Rose. Wehave had such wonderfully mild weather; but I'm afraid we shan't get anymore boating this season. "

"Shan't we?" Toni sighed faintly. "I'm sorry--I have enjoyed the riverso much. "

"Yes. We've had a glorious summer. But after all the winter will soonpass and we'll be getting the boats out again. "

"I hope we shan't be here when it's time to get the boats out, " said Evacrisply. "A winter here would just about finish me off. "

"Oh, it's not bad, " Herrick rejoined. "Sometimes it is quite pleasantall the year round--though we get a fog now and again, of course. "

"I don't propose remaining to sample the fogs, " said Eva quietly. "Ofcourse you will do as you choose, but seeing I've never been properlywarm for months--we don't have nice fires in prison, you know--I thinkyou owe it to me to take me somewhere sunny this winter. "

Herrick's face clouded, as it always did at any reference to Eva'sprison life; and Toni felt desperately uncomfortable. 

She put down her cup and rose. 

"I must really be going home, Eva. I didn't mean to stay to tea. "

"Must you go? I'm sorry. I hoped you'd stay to dinner and enliven us alittle. Jim and I don't have very jovial evenings, do we, Jim? SometimesI think I might as well be back in my cell. "

"Eva--don't. " Herrick spoke quietly, and his wife laughed. 

"My dear Jim, why be so squeamish? If Mrs. Rose doesn't mind associatingwith jail-birds, I don't see why you should. I'm thinking of writing abook on my experiences in prison, Toni. Do you think Mr. Rose wouldcollaborate with me--lick my raw stuff into shape, so to speak?"

Before Toni could reply, Herrick interrupted. 

"If you are going, Mrs. Rose, I'll take you across the river in the oldpunt, and see you home along the towing-path. It is the shortest way, but it's lonely at night. "

"Thank you, Mr. Herrick. May Olga come, too?"

"Of course. She would be very much hurt if she were left behind. "

"How silly you are over that great dog of yours, Jim. " Mrs. Herrickincluded even dogs in her universal hatred nowadays. "I declare I wishsomeone would poison the beast. "

This threat, uttered not for the first time, made Herrick set his lipsfirmly, and for once his wife regretted her taunt. 

"Oh, I'm not going to do it, " she said with a laugh. "Good-bye, Toni, ifyou must go. I'll come and look you up in a day or two. "

When Toni and Herrick were alone, walking along the towing-path in thedarkness, Herrick turned to Toni with a sigh. 

"Mrs. Rose, I can't tell you how sorry I am--nor how grateful I am bothto you and Mr. Rose for your kindness to my poor little wife. "

"Oh, don't say that, " begged Toni, her warm heart filled with pity forhim. "I like your wife immensely--we are friends, you know, and you mustnot forget she has suffered terribly. "

"Yes, I suppose she has. And yet"--he spoke vehemently--"has shesuffered so much as I have done--as I shall go on doing as long as weboth live? Oh, I've no right to say it--I ought to be man enough tosuffer in silence--but it's hard to bear her constant allusions to herprison life--her taunts--wouldn't you think she would be glad to forgetall that, to put it behind her? Yet every day she talks of it. She neverallows me to forget for one instant that she has been in hell--and everyword she utters is an indictment of me, a reproach for the cowardicewhich let her go to prison. "

"Oh, Mr. Herrick--I'm so sorry. .. . "

The stammered words brought a smile to Herrick's face. 

"Poor child! I ought not to blame her--rather to pity her. .. . I _do_pity her with all my heart. But she won't let me sympathize with her. One word and she flies at me. She is unhappy here, yet she will make noplans for going abroad. She talks as though I kept her here, when Godknows I would go to the ends of the earth if she wished it. "

"Yes, I know, but I think if you go on being patient with her, " hazardedToni, "she will come to her better self again. Don't you agree with me?"

"I don't know. " His tone was rather despairing. "Sometimes I fear bothour lives are ruined. It's wonderful what an effect a wife has on herhusband's life--and _vice versâ_, of course. Some people seem to thinkthat a man and woman can 'live their own lives' quite apart from eachother if they like. But they can't. When they are husband and wife theyare bound to exercise an enormous influence on each other's life; andwhen two people are thoroughly out of sympathy with each other, life, for both of them, is bound to be a failure. "

"You think so?" Toni's mind had flown to her own unhappiness, but foronce Herrick did not read what was in her thoughts. 

"Yes. Don't you? Now, looking at it dispassionately, how do you expectEva and me ever to re-discover the happiness we have so effectuallylost? Remember, Eva is convinced that all her sufferings are directlydue to me. She persists in thinking that if I had chosen I could eitherhave prevented her case ever going to court, or could have taken theblame myself and gone to prison in her stead. The consequence is, shehates me, resents my presence near her, and will bear me an undyinggrudge all the days of her life. "

"But you couldn't have taken the blame. "

"Of course not, but women are often illogical, and Eva certainly is. No, the fact remains that I represent, to Eva, the coward who condemned herto a severe and mortifying punishment; and she won't forgive me. "

"But in time----"

"Sometimes I am inclined to think it's a hopeless experiment--our lifetogether. " Herrick spoke sombrely. "I have been wondering seriously oflate whether it would not be better to make over all my property to mywife and rid her of my presence, I believe she would be happier byherself. "

"You mean--get a divorce?" faltered Toni. 

"A divorce?" In spite of himself Herrick laughed. "Oh dear no. I don'tthink I need take quite such drastic measures as that. What I thoughtwas to set Eva up somewhere, in some new place, where she could startafresh, and then take myself off quietly--to California, or New Zealand, or somewhere of the sort, where an able-bodied fellow like me can besure of picking up a living. "

"But would Eva let you go?"

"Ah, there's the rub!" He spoke in a lighter tone. "When it came to thepoint she might think that even an unsatisfactory husband was betterthan none. But, speaking seriously, I believe two people so incompatibleas we two are better apart. "

"Do you?" In the dark Toni's eyes were frightened. "Don't you think, then, that one ought to stand by one's own actions? I mean if a husband, say, honestly thought it would be better for his wife to be free fromhim, would you advise him to go and leave her? Or the other way about. Should the wife go, if she was sure that by staying she did the manharm?"

Herrick was tired, disheartened by the frequent scenes with his wife, depressed by the grim autumn night; therefore for once his sympathieswore dormant and his intuition slept. 

He had no idea that Toni was speaking personally, that she was callingon him to help her to make the most important decision of her life; andhe was, moreover, in a mood which found the idea of self-sacrifice, ofrenunciation of one's own happiness strangely attractive. 

"If he--or she--were practically convinced that departure would be thebest way out--for both--why then I should say by all means go. " In thedarkness he did not see Toni's sudden deathly pallor. "Of course itwould always be rather hard to be quite sure on that point; but in acase where one could be more or less certain--well, perhaps I'm wrong, but I should say the step would be thoroughly justifiable. "

For a perceptibly long moment Toni did not speak. Then she changed thesubject abruptly by asking her companion the time; and after strikingone or two matches he was able to assure her that it was just six. 

"Oh, then Owen will be back. " She hastened her steps as she spoke, andthere was little more conversation between them as they hurried along. 

At the gate he bade her farewell, refusing an invitation to enter; andToni went through the garden into the house, there to be met by atelegram from Owen announcing that he had been delayed in town and wouldnot be home in time for dinner. 

Toni was oddly relieved by this fact. She had an important matter tothink out; and for once Owen's absence was welcome. 

She dined alone, a rather forlorn little figure in the big dining-room;and after her hurried meal she went into the drawing-room and stoodlooking out over the lawn with unseeing eyes. 

The night had turned warm, unseasonably so for November, and Tonisuddenly felt a great desire to be out in the air among the trees andshrubs, which were faintly perceptible in the light of a thin and waningmoon. 

Kate, surprised by an imperative summons, brought a wrap as directed;and calling Jock to accompany her, Toni stepped out of the long windowon to the gravel outside. 

For a moment Kate stood watching her young mistress, struck by somethinga little desolate in her appearance; but when Toni had moved slowly awaydown the path, Jock gambolling beside her, Kate withdrew from the windowand returned to her interrupted supper. 

Toni paced slowly up and down for some minutes, while the night airplayed over her bared head. It was less oppressively warm out here thanin the house, and into Toni's nature-loving heart there stole a suddensense of comfort; as though all the living things around her werewhispering vague words of love and cheer to her forlorn spirit. 

However miserable she might be, Toni was never quite so wretched out ofdoors. It was as though some vital part of her responded to the call ofher great mother, the earth; as though in her veins ran some fluid akinto the sap which coursed through the branches of the trees. Indoors, between four walls, she might feel grief as a crushing burden; but onceoutside, with only the vast sky above her head, her sorrow invariablylightened; and to-night was no exception. 

At the end of half an hour's quiet pacing up and down the gravel walkToni felt herself calmed and strengthened. She told herself there was noneed at present to dwell further on the matter which filled herthoughts. She would banish it from her mind for the time being; and withthis wise resolution, she turned to retrace her steps up the avenuetowards the house. 

Suddenly Jock barked loudly, following the bark with a low growl; andToni's heart gave a great jump. 

She had strolled almost to the big iron gates leading to the road; andshe wondered for a moment whether a tramp had found his way into thegrounds on some nefarious errand. She stood still, thinking as she didso that she heard a rustle in a bush close at hand, and then Jockgrowled again, a fierce, low rumbling in his throat, which frightenedToni almost out of her wits. 

With a voice which would shake, she called out to the dog; and thenthere was a sudden silence which was almost more sinister. She had laidher hand on the Airedale's collar at the sound of his first bark; butfeeling really nervous now, she was just about to let him go when therewas a half-apologetic cough from the bushes behind her, and a voice sheknew said, rather timidly:

"Mrs. Rose! Please don't be alarmed--it's only me--Leonard Dowson. "

CHAPTER XXIV

Toni was so surprised by the discovery of the unknown marauder'sidentity that she involuntarily released her hold on the dog's collar;but Jock's sudden dart across the path, and his snarl of anger as heconfronted the person whom in his doggy heart he took for an enemy, awoke Toni to a sense of the position. 

"Jock! Come here! _Jock_, do you hear me?" Her tone showed Jock that, much as appearances were against the intruder, his canine instinct hadbeen at fault; and he returned, unwillingly, to his mistress, wearingthe slightly sulky look which an intelligent dog wears when he has madean unavoidable mistake. 

"Mrs. Rose, I assure you I did not mean to frighten you. " Mr. Dowsonemerged rather hastily from the shadow of the bushes, and advanced, hatin hand. "I--I am really most awfully sorry if I have startled you. I . .. I would have called out sooner, but I trusted you would notperceive me. "

"Mr. Dowson!" Toni's voice was frankly dismayed. "What are you doinghere? Were you coming to see me?"

"I--I really don't know. " Mr. Dowson moved a step forward and then gavean involuntary jump as Jock growled mildly, under his breath as it were. 

"But--be quiet, Jock--it's so late--and----"

"Oh, I know it's late. " Suddenly Mr. Dowson lost his head. "But Icouldn't stop away. I--I've been here heaps of times--atnight--generally I've stopped outside the gates, but once or twice I hadto come in. .. . I--I couldn't stop away. It drove me mad to think of youhere--and I had to come, just to be near you, if I couldn't seeyou--speak to you. "

"But----" Toni began, but he cut her short. 

"Oh, you can't understand, of course! You've never understood--you'venever known how much I've loved you--oh, it's no use being angry! I knowquite well I've no right to speak. You're married, a great lady now, byall I hear--but I love you--Toni--oh, my God, how I love you!" The sweatstood in great drops on his brow as he hurried on, a certain rougheloquence in his words. "After all, I'm a man, I've a right to loveyou--or any woman--and I've loved you now for years--it's not somethingnew, just a passing attraction--it's part of me, something in my verybones, as near me as breathing or sleeping or thinking--I'm simply eatenup with love for you, Toni. You're my life, my everything. I'd die foryou, I'd go through fire end water for you, I'd do anything in theworld, bad or good, dishonourable or splendid, if you'd be kind to me, smile on me, let me kiss your little feet. .. . "

Toni, swept off her balance by his passion, said nothing, but stoodopposite to him, panting a little; and after a second he went on withhis wild confession. 

"Oh, I know I'm wrong, I know you're hating me, despising me for tellingyou all this, but it's too much for me. I can't bear it alone anylonger. It's driving me mad, Toni, mad, do you hear? At night I dream ofyou--sometimes I dream that you've been kind to me, that I've kissedyou--kissed your little mouth, held you in my arms . .. And then I wakeand know you're another man's wife, and it makes the blood rush to myhead and I see red, Toni, red. .. . "

Something in his excitement warned the girl that she must soothe him. 

"Hush, Leonard. " In that moment she reverted to the days of their earlyfriendship. "Don't speak so wildly. You--you frighten me. "

He passed his hand over his brow, and when he spoke his voice was ashade quieter. 

"I wouldn't frighten you for the world, Toni, you know that. I love youfar too well . .. Oh, Toni, is it quite hopeless! Isn't there a glimmerof pity in your heart for me? Won't you ever give me a thought. .. . "

"Leonard, how can I?" She spoke in a low voice, all Eva's horridsuggestions rushing over her in a flood. "I'm married; I can't ever beanything to you now. "

"Oh, I know you're married. " He caught his breath in a gasp. "Butstill--oh, Toni, you wouldn't come away with me, would you? I've gotsome money now. I'd be able to give you things, and I'd work for youtill I died. .. . "

At another moment Toni would have found occasion to wonder at histemerity in making the suggestion. She did not know how his imagination, fired by Eva's insinuations, played about the figure of Owen Rose's wifeas the unloved victim of a man's callousness; and although she could seethat Leonard Dowson was in deadly earnest, she had no conception of thesincerity of his belief that she had been wronged, trapped into marriageby a man who cared little for her, and neglected her openly. 

Such was the manner in which the situation had been presented to Dowsonby Eva Herrick; and in his genuine acceptance of her story lay Dowson'sbest excuse for his wild plan. 

"I . .. I couldn't come away with you, Leonard. " In spite of her desireto set Owen free, Toni's whole soul revolted at the idea of suchtreachery. "I'm married, you know, and I couldn't leave my husband. "

"Why not?" in his despair the young man pressed still nearer, and againJock uttered a warning growl. "I know you are married, but still--you'renot happy--your husband isn't, either, by what I hear. You'd be wrongingnobody--you've no children to consider"--in some ways Mr. Dowson was asprimitive as Toni--"if you had, it would be different, but you've onlyyourself to think about. This life doesn't suit you, Toni. It crampsyou, worries you. Oh, I heard all about that Badminton Club affair, andeveryone knows you don't hit it off with the bigwigs of theneighbourhood. "

"Who told you that?" For a moment Dowson quailed before her tone; but herallied bravely. 

"Oh, what does it matter who told me? It's true, isn't it? Why, you lookdifferent, Toni. You're not the lively, jolly, animated girl you used tobe--all smiles and jokes. Toni, you're paler, and thinner--you've grownquiet, almost sad. It's because you're not happy--and--and I'd die foryour happiness any day. "

His deadly earnestness could not fail to win response. Here at last wasa passion unveiled before Toni's wondering eyes; and all at once thething which had seemed impossible came down to the level of the thingswhich--sometimes--happen. 

Here was a man who only asked to serve her; and if by accepting hisservice she could free her husband from the chain which bound him, allunwilling, to her, was it not the act of a coward to refuse?

It may be said, and with truth, that Toni's view of the matter wasperverted, distorted beyond all bounds of reason and of common sense. Toleave her husband, to whom in spite of all she clung with every fibre ofher being, for another man for whom she had not even the smallest atomof affection, was surely the most insane, inexcusable action in theworld; and would after all only result in a negligible good, since theinsult paid, to the man she betrayed would quite outweigh any relief inthe freedom thus obtained. 

Then, too, she would be wronging Leonard Dowson; since to go away withhim would lead him to suppose a degree of affection on Toni's part whichwas in reality non-existent; but Toni was not thinking of Dowson in thismatter. 

There is no woman so absolutely ruthless towards the mass of mankind asthe woman who loves one man completely. In this affair Owen was the onlyman who counted in Toni's mind; and she thought of Leonard Dowson merelyas a convenient tool with which to effect her husband's release from theposition he apparently found unendurable. That the reckoning might comeafterwards, when Leonard should see himself as Toni saw him, she did notpause to consider. Indeed, on this occasion her thoughts were so wildand chaotic that she could hardly be said to have considered the matterat all. 

"Well, Toni?" Her long silence made him uneasy, and he paled, fearing hehad angered her by his persistence. 

"Well?" She gazed at him absently for a moment, then woke suddenly tolife. "Leonard, are you seriously asking me to go away with you? Youmean you would take me away, and let my husband divorce me--for you?"

"Yes, Toni. " He spoke firmly; and, if for a moment all his lifelongvisions of a respectable London practice, prosperity, the respect ofthose around him, seemed to rise up reproachfully before his eyes, hemeant his words absolutely. 

"Would you really do it? You must be very fond of me, " said Toni simply;and the young man was emboldened to proceed. 

"Of course I would do it, and of course I am fond of you. " His voiceshook a little. "Toni do you really mean that you will think aboutit--will give me the tiniest fraction of hope to keep me alive?"

"Yes. I will think about it. " She spoke slowly. "But--I can't tellyou--now. You must go away and let me think things out. "

"Don't think too long, " he besought her, fearing that prudence mightcome with reflection. "When will you tell me, Toni? To-morrow? Will youwrite to me? One word--yes--will do; and I'll make arrangements atonce. "

For a moment his earnestness startled her. 

"You could do it--like that--at once? Leave your practice and everythingelse at a moment's notice?"

"I'd leave all I have in the world at a second's notice, " said Mr. Dowson resolutely; and Toni could not but believe in his sincerity. 

"Very well. " She felt tired suddenly. "I will write--to-morrow. But--butyou won't be angry if it's _no_?" Toni added childishly. 

"I'd never be angry--with you. " The young man's commonplace featureswere irradiated by a great light, and for a moment one could forget hismean stature and ready-made clothing. "You will never understand--youcouldn't--what you are to me; but before God, " said Leonard Dowsonsolemnly, "I'd devote my life, my soul, all I have to your service, andnever ask for thanks. "

"Well, if you will go now, I will write to you, " said Toni, ratherwearily; and his passion was checked by the fatigue in her voice. 

"I'll go now--at once--and you--you will write, Toni? I'll count everymoment till I get your letter. "

"Yes, I will write, " she reiterated dully, wishing he would go and leaveher alone with her thoughts; and without another word he turned andvanished into the shadows. 

When the sound of his footsteps had died away and all was silence, Tonishivered with a feeling of deadly chill. 

Leonard Dowson's appearance, following so closely on Eva Herrick'ssuggestions, had given her a queer, eerie sensation of awe, as thoughsome inexorable fate were pointing out to her a way of escape from thesituation she was beginning to find intolerable. She never doubted theman's affection for her; and she fully believed that he would indeed diein her service. And the very touch of fanaticism in her love for Owen, which made her feel that it would be a small thing indeed to die for himif by dying she might give him happiness, helped her to realize thestrength of the pallid, unromantic young dentist's devotion. 

True, Toni was too innately sensible a person--perhaps it would befairer to say her love of life and its "sweet things" was too strong--toallow her to contemplate death as a solution of the problem of herunsuccessful marriage. 

She understood, too, with a queer flash of spiritual insight which wasforeign to her usual simple vision, that her death would bring Owen onlya great sorrow; and in her darkest moments she never dreamed of courtingdeath. 

A sudden bark from Jock made her start; and looking round she found Owenalmost at her elbow. He had dismissed his taxi at the gate, and waswalking briskly up the dark avenue, when Jock's vociferous welcome brokethe night silence and brought him to a halt. 

"Hallo, old boy, what are you doing here? That you, Andrews?"

Toni moved forward from the shadow, and beneath the dark cloak which haddeceived him he caught the pale glimmer of her skirt. 

"No, Owen. It is I, Toni. "

"You? Why, what are you doing here? Oh, I see--you brought Jock for arun. Well, it's quite warm to-night--but the air has the feel of rain. "

"Yes. I thought I felt a drop just now. "

"Did you? Well, we'll get indoors. I'm sorry I am so late, dear, butthere's been trouble at the office. Oh, nothing much, only Hart, our newsub-editor, had chosen to return an article we'd commissioned, becausehe said it was not up to our usual level. "

"And wasn't it?" Toni's forlorn heart welcomed his friendly tone. 

"Of course it was. It was about the best stuff young Lewis had everturned out--and a fool like Hart, whose taste is distinctly precious, hasn't the wit to appreciate good, clean, straightforward English. Helikes a mass of involved, wordy stuff that only the high-brows canunderstand. "

He broke off laughing. 

"Well, anyway we sent for it back in double-quick time; but Lewis hadtaken the huff and didn't want us to have it. So Hart had toapologize--which _he_ didn't enjoy--and altogether the place was in aferment. "

"But it's all right now?"

"Yes, thank Heaven. I say, Toni; I went to see old Vincent about my armto-day, and he says it is fairly normal again. I'll tell you a secret, shall I, Toni? As soon as the book is finished I'm going to start aplay. "

"Are you?" Her voice sounded cold, though it was only vague; and herunusual lack of interest rather hurt Owen. 

"Oh, we'll have our holiday first, " he said quickly. "I didn't mean todo you out of that. How would you like a few weeks in Switzerland--forthe winter sports? We could get off in about three weeks, and stay overChristmas. Then, when we came home"--in spite of himself his tone took anew enthusiasm--"I could get to work again. "

"You are going to write a play? But I didn't know you could writeplays. "

Her childishness jarred his nerves, already worn with the minorvexations of the day. 

"Well, _I_ don't know until I try. " He spoke rather curtly. "But I'vetalked it over with Barry, and we think it sounds possible. "

"I see. And if it were a success?"

"Why, our fortune would be made. " He took her arm in friendly fashion. "Then we should have to go and live in town, Toni, take a big house andlaunch out. You'd like that, eh?"

"I should hate it, " she said, so fervently that he dropped her arm inastonishment and turned to look at her. 

"Hate it! Why?"

"I hate big houses--and entertaining--and all the rest. I--I shouldloathe to have to go to receptions and give big parties--I'm never anygood at talking, you know yourself I look a fool when anyone tries totalk to me. "

"I know you're a little silly, " said Owen teasingly, "but you'll outgrowthat. Here we are--come along in, Toni, it's really beginning to rain. Come in, Jock, and let me shut the door. "

Safely inside the hall, Owen turned to Toni. 

"Come into the library, will you, dear? I'll send for some sandwichesand a whisky and soda, I think. I hurried over dinner and I'm hungry. "

Toni gave the order at once, and then followed Owen to the library, where a cheerful fire burned, and in the mellow lamplight the roomlooked very stately and charming. 

She sat down on the low club-fender in front of the hearth and gazedinto the leaping fire in silence, while Owen opened the letters whichhad accumulated during the day. 

For a few moments there was no sound save the crackling of paper and thesoft little chatter of the fire. Then Owen crumpled up a letter he heldand flung it from him with something which sounded like an oath. 

Toni, roused from her reverie, turned round to face him. 

"What's the matter, Owen?"

"Matter enough, I think. " His face wore a frown which boded ill forsomeone. "Toni, what have you been saying to Miss Loder to make herwrite this letter?"

"Saying to Miss Loder?" Every scrap of colour faded from her face, andOwen, watching, took her pallor for the ashy hue of guilt. 

"Yes. You've said something--I don't know what--but I should like toknow at once, without prevarication, just what it is. "

"I've said nothing to Miss Loder. " Her voice was unsteady--she too hadfelt her nerves jarred during this dreadful day. 

"Well, you see what she says. " He stooped and picked up the letter, which he handed to Toni. "Read that, and tell me what you make of it. "

With fingers as cold as ice, and a memory in her heart of another letterwhich had brought her misery, Toni took the sheet, and read, in MissLoder's firm, characteristic hand, the letter in which she requested tobe allowed to resign her post. 

"I am not taking this step without serious thought, " so the letter ran, "and for some time I determined to remain with you as long as youhonoured me by your acquiescence in the arrangement. But learning, as Ido, from a quite indisputable source, that my presence in your house isdistasteful to Mrs. Rose, I have no option but to ask you to release mefrom a position which is not only unpleasant but undignified. If youwill be kind enough to waive the question of notice, I would prefer toterminate the engagement at once. "

Here followed her signature, firm and clear as ever; and then came apostscript, surely a sign of disturbance on the part of so academic ascribe. 

"I would prefer to dissever all connection with the _Bridge_ at the sametime; but am willing to remain at the office until you find a suitableperson for the post. "

Having read the letter Toni let it fall upon her knee, while she gazeddreamily into the red heart of the fire, her brain working slowly as shetried to understand the significance of Miss Loder's epistle. 

Something in her abstraction appeared to irritate Owen; for he came astep forward and spoke rather brusquely. 

"Well? You've read it? What have you to say about it?"

"To say? Nothing. " She lifted her eyes to his, and let them drop again, wearily, to the letter on her knee. 

"Oh, come, Toni, that's nonsense. " Conscious of the irritation in histone Owen paused, then spoke more gently. "Miss Loder is not the sort ofperson to imagine slights--she has been out in the world too long forthat. But evidently she has clearly seen your antipathetic attitudetowards her, and feels that in the circumstances she cannot remain. "

"I have never slighted Miss Loder. " Toni, frightened, sounded defiant. 

"Not exactly. But you have shown _me_ very plainly that you resented herpresence; and I suppose you have not been very careful to hideyour--well, prejudice--from the girl herself. "

"She has no right to say such things, " said Toni, a warm flush creepingup beneath her ivory pallor. "I have never been rude to her, as you seemto think. I have always hated her, I admit--always, from the first timeI saw her; but----"

"Ah, you acknowledge that. " Owen pounced on the admission. "But why, Toni? Why should you hate the girl?"

"Why? I don't know, " said Toni recklessly. "Simply because I do, Isuppose--because if I knew her for a hundred years I should never doanything but hate her. "

"And so, through your senseless jealousy, I'm to lose the best secretaryI've ever had. " Owen's tone was cold. "Really, Toni, I think you've gonea little too far this time. Quite apart from the fact that you must havebehaved in a very childish and unladylike fashion to make the girl souncomfortable, you have also done me an injury. If you didn't care formy work for its own sake--and I know neither the _Bridge_ nor my bookhas ever appealed to you--still I think you might have sacrificed yourpersonal feelings just a little and considered my position in thematter. "

From her lowly seat on the fender, Toni looked up at him with a strangeexpression in her eyes. In truth, at that moment Toni's soul was abattlefield of conflicting emotions. Anger, defiance, resentment at whatshe considered her husband's injustice, were mingled with a great dreadof Owen's displeasure; and a wild, miserable despair at the thought ofhis conception of her as indifferent to his aims and ideals. At one andthe same moment she longed to hurl defiance into his face, and to castherself, weeping, into his arms. But she did neither, only looked up athim with that inscrutable expression in her eyes, waiting for him tospeak. 

"Now I suppose I shall have to look out for another secretary. " Owen wasannoyed and showed it. "Thank Heaven, the proofs are about finished, butthis knocks the play on the head. I suppose I'll find someone else tohelp me, but the whole thing is very absurd and annoying. "

Suddenly Toni's self-control, already shaken by the meeting with Dowson, deserted her completely. 

She rose from her seat like a small whirlwind and confronted Owen withscarlet cheeks and blazing eyes. 

"Wait a moment, Owen. Don't say any more, please. Remember there is myside of the question to be considered. " She faced him bravely. "You knewfrom the start that I was not literary or learned--I told you before wewere married that I wasn't half clever enough for you, and you said itdidn't matter. Then, when I'd tried to help you and failed, you got MissLoder here in my place. You knew I disliked her, but you didn't knowwhat cause I had for my dislike. "

Owen, silenced by her vehemence, stared at her speechlessly, and shewent on hurriedly. 

"From the first she despised me. She saw I wasn't well-educated, that Iwasn't even in her class. Oh, I know she is connected with all sorts ofpeople, but she ought not to have let me see so plainly that she lookeddown on me as a nobody. She never lost a chance of humiliating me. Why, at lunch over and over again I've sat silent while you and she talked. If I ventured to speak, she listened, quite politely, till I hadfinished, and then went on talking as though I'd not spoken. For daysand days I hardly saw you. You were shut up there with her, and I wasall alone. I was no one to you, she was everyone. I was your wife, butshe was your companion. Everyone noticed how I was left alone; they allknew you ignored me--I was miserable, but you never saw----"

"You--miserable, Toni?" Owen spoke abruptly. 

"How could I be anything else? You treated me always as a child--anunreasonable, ignorant child----"

"Well?" Owen interrupted her, but his tone was one meant to conciliate, for suddenly he thought he saw a way to end this deplorable scene. "Andaren't you a child? A pretty, engaging child, I grant you--butstill----"

"No. " It was her turn to interrupt, and white to the lips she faced him. "I am not a child any longer--I was until a short time ago, but you havechanged me into a woman----"

"Come, Toni. " Deceived by her quiet tone Owen laid his hand on her arm. "Don't grow up too quickly. Let me have my little child-wife a bitlonger yet----"

She shook his hand off with a violence for which he was not prepared, and he spoke angrily, his softer impulses dying away. 

"Hang it all, Toni, you needn't repulse me as if I were a snake. You_are_ a child, after all, and a jolly bad-tempered one at that!" It wasthe first time he had ever used such a tone, and the girl's anger flaredup in reply. 

"A child--of course--you think so, you always will--you and yourprecious secretary!" As she spoke Toni snatched up a packet ofneatly-folded proofs from the table behind her. "This is her work, Isuppose. Oh, how I _hate_ her--and you--and the book! I'd like todestroy it all--to burn it up--like that!"

With a passionate gesture she turned round and flung the bundle ofpapers into the very heart of the fire blazing on the hearth behind her. 

"There!" She faced him again, her breast heaving, her eyes flashingstormily. "I'd burn it all--if I could. You like your book better thanme--but I've burnt so much of it, anyway. "

Owen had started forward as she spoke, but it was useless to attempt tosave the burning sheets, and he fell back from the hearth with anexclamation of anger. 

"You are a little fool, Toni. " He spoke coldly. "What, good do youexpect to do by a piece of childish spite like that? Those proof sheetswere all corrected--now the duplicate set will have to be revised, andas they are due in London to-morrow, I shall have to spend several hoursover them before I can get to bed to-night. "

Toni, frightened now at what she had done, stood motionless during hisspeech. As he said the last words her rage melted suddenly intocontrition. 

"Owen--I'm--I'm sorry. " She spoke haltingly. "I--I didn't mean to giveyou trouble. Can I--will you let me help you--to make up for what I'vedone?"

He raised his eyebrows and laughed rather bitterly. 

"It's very kind of you, Toni, but I think I won't trouble you. Yourrepentance is a little belated, isn't it? And I think I prefer to keepmy work to myself in future. "

The fire of her rage gave one last expiring flicker. 

"As usual, " she said, "your work is more to you than I. I wonder youever married, Owen. Marriage doesn't seem to mean a great deal to you. "

"I sometimes wonder, myself, " he said drily. "Certainly I haven't foundit a very enjoyable state of late. It seems you haven't, either. Perhapswe were in too great a hurry after all, Toni. "

He did not mean the words, which were wrung from him by his exasperationat her childish folly; but the effect on Toni was disastrous. 

She could not well turn paler than she was already; but a chill creptinto her veins, congealing her blood as she stood in front of the fire. She shivered slightly; and then with an effort which made her feelphysically exhausted, she moved slowly towards the door. 

"Where are you going, Toni?" Owen questioned her rather coldly. 

She turned round; and all the youth was gone from her face. 

"I am going to bed, " she answered quietly. "Good-night, Owen. "

And without waiting for a reply she opened the door and went slowly outof the room. 

CHAPTER XXV

Quite calmly and quietly Toni went about her preparations for departure. 

The scene in the library had turned the scale in favour of her flight. Owen had openly avowed his opinion that their hasty marriage had been amistake; and now that the passion of rage and jealousy which hadpossessed her had died away, Toni could see no other method of relievingthe situation than by leaving Greenriver at once. 

She would go away with Leonard Dowson, thereby leaving the way open forOwen to divorce her. Her own future life occupied but the smallestfraction of her thoughts. Somehow her power of visualizing the futureseemed to stop short with her departure from her home; and although shehad a very clear vision of Owen, relieved from the incubus of herpresence, and free to devote himself to the work which, she hadpersuaded herself, meant more to him than any purely domestic happiness, she never gave even a passing thought to her own existence when once shehad severed the ties which bound her to the old house by the river. 

Very early in the morning of the day following her interview with Dowsonshe had posted a note to him. There was only one short sentence on thelittle sheet of paper--only three words; but she know it would beenough. 

 "I will come. TONI. "

That was all; and yet as she wrote the little sentence, Toni had aqueer, stifling sensation as though she were indeed signing her owndeath-warrant. 

The note would be delivered at lunch-time; and about two o'clock Tonibegan to look for an answer, though she knew it was hardly likely theyoung man would reply so promptly. 

At three o'clock she went out into the garden. Her head was throbbingpainfully, her cheeks burnt with a scarlet flush, and it was surelyquicksilver and not blood which ran so swiftly through her veins. 

The day was unseasonably warm, and a slight fog hung about, making theair damp and heavy. Owen had gone to town immediately after lunch; andToni was inexpressibly relieved by his absence. 

They had barely spoken to one another to-day. Owen was suffering fromone of his worst neuralgic headaches, which at all times made him feeldisinclined for speech; and Toni said little because she had nothing tosay. 

At half-past three a note was delivered to her by a lad wheeling abicycle; and when the messenger had withdrawn, Toni opened the greyenvelope with fingers that shook. Inside she found a fairly long letter, which had evidently been written in haste, for the writing was untidy, and here and there a word was almost illegible. 

"I can hardly believe you will come, Toni. " So ran the letter in whichLeonard Dowson accepted, the happiness promised to him. "It seems toogood, too exceedingly, marvellously good to be true. Yet your littleletter lies before me, and you are too kind, too sincere to deceive me. So it is true; and the sun has risen on my grey and lonely life. Thenlisten, Toni. I have made all preparations for my own departureto-night. I have paid off my servants, the rent, and left everything inorder; and I am in possession of a sufficient sum of money in notes andgold to enable us to live for some months in peace on the Continent. Nowcomes the question of our meeting. I have ascertained that the nightboat leaves Dover about eleven; and in order to cross to Calais, on theway to Paris, we must take the boat train from Victoria. I think it willbe safer to motor up to town rather than risk meeting any acquaintancesin the train; and a car will be waiting at the corner of Elm Lane at sixo'clock. That will give us sufficient time to catch the train, and willbe pleasanter than the other mode of travelling. With regard to yourluggage, do not trouble to bring more than a dressing-case; for it willbe my pleasure and privilege in future to provide you with all you maydesire. I have still much to do, so will bid you farewell until theprecious moment which brings you to my side. "

He had evidently hesitated over his signature; there were one or twoerasures; but at length he had written, his name firmly, without anyattempt at a formal leave-taking. 

For perhaps a minute Toni stared at the two words "Leonard Dowson"; anda chill, as of anticipatory dread, swept over her at the sight of thatfirm, clerkly handwriting. 

Until this moment she had looked upon Leonard's proposal as the one andonly means of setting Owen free. Once she had taken this step, hadburned her boats, her husband would surely accept his freedom with afeeling of vast relief; and in spite of everything Toni had only onethought--that of Owen's good. 

But suddenly she was afraid, with a purely human, selfish fear forherself. To what was she condemning herself by this unlawful flight?When once Owen had accepted her sacrifice, had set in order themachinery of the law which should give him his release, what wouldbecome of her? Would she be obliged to marry a man for whom she feltonly a tepid friendship, unwarmed by the smallest coal from the fire oflove? She had found life sad even when married to the man she loved; butwhat would it be to her as the wife of a man to whom she was almostcompletely indifferent?

Quite unconsciously Toni was exaggerating Owen's attitude towards hismarriage, was accepting as his last word a few irritable sentences wrungfrom him by fatigue and annoyance at having seen the corrected proofsdestroyed in a fit of childish temper on the part of his wife. 

Far from regretting his marriage, Owen merely regretted Toni'sunreasonableness in the matter of Miss Loder; and once that young womanwas removed from the scene, Owen had no doubt that he and his wife wouldshake down again quite comfortably and forget the recent scenes betweenthem. 

But Toni, who always meant exactly what she said, and unconsciouslyexpected the same sincerity of speech from others, had taken Owenliterally; and although for a moment a flood of human weakness hadovertaken her as she gazed at Leonard Dowson's firm signature, she neverreally faltered in her purpose. 

When she had read the fatal letter once more, she went back into thehouse, and there she burned the document with almost mechanicalforethought. 

Then she went upstairs to her room and carefully packed herdressing-bag. She did not take very much. Somehow it seemed unnecessaryto burden herself with many things; and when she had finished herpacking and had hidden the bag in her capacious wardrobe, she wentdownstairs and sat by the drawing-room fire to wait until Kate saw fitto bring tea. 

When, at the usual time, Kate entered, she moved across the room tolight the lamps; but Toni sent her away with this part of her dutyundone. To-night Toni wished to sit in the firelight. The fog hadthickened in the last hour, and now it pressed against the windows likea chill, ghostly presence, hiding the garden, the river, the trees inthick and clammy folds. Looking across the room from her seat by thefire Toni shivered; and it seemed unkind of Fate to ordain that her lastmemories of Greenriver should be shrouded in the cold and creeping mist. 

She turned back to the fire with a shiver; and sat gazing into theleaping flames, while her tea grew cold and the hands of the clock creptinexorably onwards. 

At half-past five she must leave the house. True, the meeting-place wasdistant barely a quarter of a mile, but Owen might return early, and shehad no desire to run the risk of meeting him. 

A short cut over the fields would both shorten the way and minimize thedanger of running into her husband; and Toni looked up, startled, whenthe silver clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of five. 

Only thirty minutes, and her life at Greenriver would come to an end. Never again would she roam through the beautiful old house, never sit inthis charming, panelled room, with its ghostly yet alluring fragrance asof bygone lavender and roses. Never again would she wander in thegarden, revelling in the beauties of colour and scent and form whichmade so lovely a picture in the glorious setting of turf and river. Never again would she stroll beneath the tall trees in the summer dusk, while the owls hooted eerily and the nightingale murmured lusciouslove-songs to the dreaming roses. The river would know her no more;never again would her feet tread the towing-path where in the earlymorning she had been used to saunter, with her faithful Jock by herside----

Ah! At the thought of Jock, Toni uttered a little cry. She had forgottenhim until this moment--his dear canine image blurred by a mist ofthoughts and tears; but now she remembered him only too well; and herheart was pierced by the thought of his fidelity--to be, alas, so poorlyrewarded. Owen would be good to him, of course. He would be well fed andkindly treated, since everyone in the house had a soft corner for thejolly, riotous, affectionate Airedale; but he would miss his own lovingmistress; and Toni could not bear to think of the wistful expression hishonest brown eyes would wear when he found that she had apparentlydeserted him. 

At that moment, almost as though her thought had called him to her, sheheard him at the door. He did not scratch the panel, after the manner ofmany of his kind, but stood upright and rattled the handle with hisnose; and Toni ran to open the door, feeling a positive criminal beneaththe warmth and confidence of his greeting. 

She took him to the fireplace and snuggled down with him on the thickfur rug on the hearth. She gave him his saucerful of tea, and fed himrecklessly with macaroons; but Jock was uneasy beneath herministrations. 

There is no friend so quick to grasp a tense situation as a dog. Although Toni spoke in almost her usual voice, and fondled him with morethan her usual affection, Jock knew quite well that there was somethingwrong. 

Leaving the last macaroon untouched, he came and stood close by herside, looking up into her face with a puzzled, wistful expression, andpresently he stood up on his hind legs and licked her face solemnly withhis warm red tongue. 

"Oh, Jock, you naughty boy, " said Toni, between crying and laughter. "You know you're not allowed to kiss me! But--oh, Jock, darling, how Ishall miss you!"

Two great tears fell on the dog's head; and others followed. In a minuteToni was weeping her heart out; and the dog, rendered still more uneasyby this behaviour, lifted up his voice in a melancholy whine. 

Suddenly Toni dashed away her tears and started to her feet with asuddenness which almost upset Jock. 

"Jock, it's no use going on like this. We're a couple of idiots--atleast, I'm one, and you're a darling old stupid. But it's time to go, Jock. To _go_. Do you hear? I'm leaving Greenriver, Jock, leaving myhome, my husband, everything I have in the world. I'm going away, Jock, going with a man I hardly know. I shall be called wicked, and I supposeI am; but I can't help it. I've got to go--but oh, Jock, how much easierit would be to die!"

She took a last look round the beautiful room, which like most roomslooked its best in the rosy firelight; and then she went slowly out, Jock pressing closely to her side. 

Up the broad stairs she went. In the gallery the Ten Little Ladiesburned bravely; and as she walked between them Toni could not see theirtiny flames for the tears which blurred her sight. 

Very slowly she entered her room, Jock pressing beside her all the time. It did not take long to don her thick fur coat and soft little hat. Sheremembered a veil, but at first forgot her gloves; and at the lastmoment she had to go back for the dressing-bag and for her purse, wherein reposed ten pounds given her by Owen some weeks earlier. 

At last she was ready; and bag in hand she opened the door leading intothe gallery and stood looking round her for one long, last moment. 

Jock, puzzled, stood beside her, gazing anxiously into her face; but shedid not notice him; and when at length she moved slowly away Jock fellback a pace and stole behind her down the long gallery. 

The old house was very still. From the shut-off regions behind the greenbaize door came, now and then, the murmur of voices; but for the mostpart Greenriver lay hushed in lamp-lit, flower-scented silence. 

Never had the big hall looked so attractive as now, in the mellow lightof the wood fire on the capacious hearth. On the oval oak table a bigjar of chrysanthemums stood out, white and copper and mauve, against thepanelled wall; and a sombre corner was lightened by the pink and creamblossoms of a tall azalea sent in that morning by an attentive gardener. 

Over everything lay the sense of a great peace and tranquillity. The oaksettee with its big, bright cushions, the tapestries hung on the darkwalls, the flowers, the books strewn here and there, the big tiger-skinhearthrug, the enormous basket-chairs covered, too, with skins of tigerand leopard--never had the hall looked so alluring, so safe, so invitingto its mistress as on this foggy autumn night when she was about toleave its shelter. 

With a long shudder Toni descended the last step of the great staircase, and drifted slowly across the hall in the direction of the front door. Jock, following, pressed a little too closely against her, and turning, Toni saw, the faithful little friend whom she was about to leave gazingat her with a human appeal in his honest face. 

"Take me! Let me go with you where you go! Why go out into the dim coldnight alone, when you can have beside you one to protect you and giveyou love?"

She could almost fancy he said the words; and two great tears fellswiftly as she bent and patted him with her free hand. 

"No, Jock darling, I can't take you. " She sobbed as she spoke. "I mustleave you behind--with all the other things I love. "

Jock, understanding the finality of her tone, whined uneasily, andwagging his tail besought her to reconsider her decision. But Toni couldbear no more. With a quick, passionate movement she opened the big doorhurriedly, and, heedless of his whining, passed through blindly into thenight, pulling the door to after her with the miserable, hopelessfeelings of a traitor in her heart. 

Pausing for an instant she heard Jock sniffing interrogatively beneaththe door; and knew he was hoping desperately that it would open to givehim freedom; but with the tears running down her face she went slowlydown the steps and was swallowed up by the cold, wet fog which lurked, ghost-like, round the house. 

Leonard Dowson was waiting for her, impatiently, feverishly, by the car;but one glance at her warned him that this was no time for lover-likeprotestations. 

He helped her in, covering her with the big fur rug he had had theforethought to bring; and then, with a delicacy which could only havebeen taught him by love, he left her alone in the interior of the carand mounted the seat beside the chauffeur. 

Even now he could hardly believe his good-fortune. With all hiseducation, his later Socialistic tendencies, his conviction that one manwas as good, primarily, as another, and that only brains and applicationcounted in the race of life, he could never bring himself to look onToni as an ordinary human being, inferior to him by reason of her sex, her less scientific brain, her lack of the power, mental and physical, which was, to him, the prerogative of manhood. 

Other women he might judge contemptuously or admiringly, as the casemight be. But he could never consider Toni as a woman like thoseothers--possibly because to him she was not _a_ woman, but--mysticaldistinction!--_the_ woman. In a vague, unreasoning way he recognizedToni's limitations. She was not clever, not even what he calledwell-educated. She would never fill any important position in the world, would never shine in any public capacity, would never seek to usurpman's prerogatives, and would be content to live quietly in some littlecorner of the world without longing to dash into the battlefield ofhuman desires and human conflicts, as other women were doing every day. 

But through it all Toni was the one woman he loved, the woman whorepresented to him all that was loveliest and best of her sex; and thisnarrow-chested, narrow-minded and quite unattractive young dentist hadthis much of greatness in his soul, that he could love a womancompletely. 

The car was running smoothly through the streets of a little town whenthere was a loud report, which even Toni, roused from her half-dazedstupor, recognized as the bursting of a tyre; and the next instantLeonard appeared at the door of the car, concern and apprehension in hisface. 

"I am so sorry--one of the front tyres has burst, and the man will haveto repair it as well as he can in the fog. "

"Where are we?" asked Toni idly, seeing beyond the figure of Dowson afew blurred lights as of houses or shops. 

"Luckily we are at Stratton, " said Leonard more cheerfully. "Right infront of some sort of an hotel, too. Won't you come in a moment and getwarm? It's too foggy and damp for you to wait out here. "

Without speaking Toni threw aside the rug and stepped out of the car. The raw, chilly air pierced her to the bone, even through the thick furof her coat; and she shivered as she stood there, looking patheticallyyoung and slight to the eyes of the man beside her. 

"Come into the 'Red Lion, ' or whatever they call it. " He put a hand, rather timidly, on her sleeve, and Toni allowed him to lead her towardsthe entrance of the hotel, whose lamps shone bravely through the fog, making blurred splashes of yellow light in the murky grey gloom. 

Opening the door, Leonard led her into the cheery entrance hall; and thenext minute a stout, motherly-looking woman bustled out of a smallside-office, and asked what might be the visitors' pleasure. 

Leonard explained that a slight accident to their car would delay them afew moments; and since the night was so inclement, he had persuaded thelady to come inside, in search of fire and lights. 

The stout landlady grasped the situation immediately, and led the way upa short flight of stairs to a sitting-room on the first floor, where abright fire burned, and thick red curtains, closely drawn, successfullyexcluded the clammy fog, and created an atmosphere of well-being andgood cheer. 

"Wouldn't the lady like a cup of tea or coffee, sir?" The woman hadnoted Toni's pallor. "It can be ready in a moment--and a sandwich or twoas well?"

After consulting his watch and calculating they had time to spare, Leonard ordered coffee and sandwiches at once; and the woman withdrew ina smiling haste which seemed to betoken the desire to lose no time. 

Toni had sunk into a chair by the fire, and was leaning forward holdingher hands to the blaze. In her face was so patent a misery that for amoment Dowson's heart failed him and he stood staring at her with asudden horrible conviction that in luring her from her home and husbandhe was doing a wicked and heartless action. In that illuminating momenthe could almost have found the strength to give her up, to undo, as faras he might, this thing which he had done. And then common sense came tohis aid. It was not the experiences of this night which had thinned therounded curve of the girl's cheek, had brought the hopeless droop to thesoft lips, the despair to the once-laughing eyes. It was rather thehappenings of the months preceding this night, the months of her marriedlife; and once again love and desire swept away scruples; and Leonardwas ready to fight the whole world for possession of the woman he loved. 

But somehow he could not stay in the room with that pathetic, appealinglittle figure. He racked his brains for an excuse to leave her for amoment or two; and suddenly the idea he sought came to him in a flash. 

He had omitted to wire to Paris for rooms in the quiet little hotel hehad selected for their stay; and although it was not a matter of vitalnecessity to do so, it would perhaps be just as well to make sure ofthem, so that there need be no troublesome delay on arrival. There was apost-office a hundred yards away, and he would only be gone for a fewmoments. He did not venture to approach Toni, but speaking from the doorexplained that he had forgotten to engage rooms in Paris, and if shewould excuse him for a minute or two he would rectify the omission. Sheagreed gently, giving him a tired little smile; and he wasted no time indeparting on his errand. 

When the door had closed behind him, Toni came to herself with a long, slow shiver. Somehow until this moment she had not really understood allthat her flight implied. She had been so intent upon Owen's welfare, that save for a few moments in the garden at Greenriver her own had beenforgotten; and although she had accepted Leonard Dowson's proposal withan almost startling readiness, she had done so in the manner of one who, drowning, clutches at a straw. 

She had known, of course, that there would be a price to pay; but shehad not realized until this second how great that price would be. Somehow the very nature of Leonard's errand had brought the wholeposition home to her with almost overwhelming force; and suddenly Toniknew that she could not go on with the adventure she had undertaken sorashly. 

She could not--_could_ not--go to Paris with this man, who for all hisdevotion was a stranger to her. She could leave Owen, though it seemedlike tearing her heart out of her breast to go. But she could not goaway with another man. 

Gone all at once was the glamour of her sacrifice. Although she knewthat by carrying out her scheme to the bitter end she might set Owenfree, it seemed to her at this moment that such freedom, so basely won, could never bring her husband the happiness she craved for him. 

For the first time, too, the thought of self would not be banished. Shesaw the whole foolish, irrational, Quixotic scheme in its true light;and flesh and blood shrank from a surrender which had no faintest touchof love--or even passion--to dignify sordidness. 

No. She could leave her husband--and in a sudden blinding flash ofinsight she knew she could not--now--go back to Greenriver; but shecould not proceed farther on this shameful way. 

To go to the hotel in Paris with this other man, to travel with him inthe enforced intimacy of their dual solitude, to pass, for all she knew, as his wife when in reality she was the wife of the one man for whom thegreat mystic trinity of body, soul and spirit passionately craved--oh, no. She could not go on--and with the certainty came the need for haste. 

Suddenly the only thing which seemed to matter in all the world was thatshe must be gone before Leonard Dowson returned. If once he came backand heard her decision, there would be scenes, reproaches, persuasions, a hundred emotions let loose; and Toni was guiltily conscious, throughall her new-born resolution, that she was treating this man who lovedher unfairly. 

He had been gone five minutes--he might return at any second. Tip-toeingacross to the window, Toni parted the red curtains and lifted a lath ofthe old-fashioned Venetian blind to peer through into the fog. 

She could not see much. Outside the hotel she could just distinguish theblurred shape of the car, the lamps flaring yellowly in the mist; butthe shops and houses opposite were blotted out by the curtain of fog;and she knew she risked running into the man from whom she longed, desperately, to escape. 

Where she would go did not matter now. Plans must be madeafterwards--now she had but one desire, to flee into the fog and be lostto sight. 

She was actually moving towards the door when a thought struck her. Tearing a bit of paper from the fly-leaf of a book on the table, shetook from the deep pocket of her coat a little pencil, and scribbled amessage--as short, almost, as that which had announced to Leonard herprevious decision. 

 "I can't go on with you. I am going. TONI. "

She had no time for more. Every second was precious; and even now shedoubted whether she were in time to make her escape. 

She opened the door and listened. Nothing was heard but the mutter ofvoices in the bar downstairs; and there was no one in sight. A momentshe stood, her heart in her throat, driven nearly distracted betweenimpatience and terror. Then she turned back into the room, snatched upher gloves and purse from the table and ran down the broad stairs andacross the square hall with frenzied haste. 

A sound of footsteps in a passage close at hand made her startnervously. Without delaying a second she opened the great door, lettingin a rush of cold, raw air, and, not venturing to look round, lest evennow she should be intercepted in her flight, she slipped through theaperture and fled into the night. 

CHAPTER XXVI

At nine o'clock that same evening Jim Herrick, alone in his shabby yetdelightful little sitting-room, was roused from his contemplation of anetching he had picked up in town that day by a deep-throated bark fromOlga. She had been lying in the hall; and doubtless her sharp ears hadheard some approaching footstep which to his duller human hearing wasinaudible. 

Eva was upstairs, trying on some finery she had purchased in London; andafter waiting a moment Herrick went into the hall to investigate. 

Someone was knocking now on the door, thereby rousing Olga's wrath; andHerrick held her firmly by the collar as he went to answer the summons. 

On the doorstep, an indistinct figure in the fog, stood a young man, andon seeing Herrick he began at once to unfold his errand. 

"Mr. Herrick, beg pardon, sir; master's sent me over to ask if Mrs. Roseis here. "

"Mrs. Rose? Are you from Greenriver?"

"Yes, sir. I'm Andrews, sir, and we're all a bit anxious about themistress. She wasn't at home for dinner, and no one saw her go out. "

"Comes inside a minute. " The man obeying, Herrick closed the door and, still holding Olga's collar, led the way to the sitting-room. 

"Now, tell me, as shortly as possible, why you thought Mrs. Rose mightbe here?"

"It was Kate's idea, sir--the parlourmaid. When Mrs. Ross didn't comedown to dinner she thought as perhaps she'd come over here. I thought itweren't likely on account of the fog, but we couldn't think of anywhereelse for Mrs. Rose to be. "

"Your master is at home?"

"Yes, sir, got in about seven. He was shut up in his room--thelib'ry--till nearly dinner-time, and then he waited and waited for themistress to come down--and when she didn't come he got fidgety and sentKate upstairs. "

"And Kate found no one?"

"No, sir. Only the dog--Jock--lying curled up in the very middle of thebed--a thing he's never been known to do before, sir. "

"Mrs. Rose has not been here, " said Herrick. "But just wait a moment. Iwill ask my wife if she expected Mrs. Rose. "

He went out of the room, and found Eva coming down the short flight ofstairs from the upper floor. 

"What's the matter, Jim? Who is the man in there?"

"It is the man-servant from Greenriver asking if Mrs. Rose has beenhere. You did not expect her, did you, Eva?"

"Oh, no. " She spoke calmly. "We were to meet to-morrow morning, but wehad no appointment for to-night. "

"I see. Odd where she can have got to. " Herrick frowned thoughtfully. "You can't give me any clue to her movements, Eva? You don't rememberhearing her say anything about to-night?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, " said Eva, with apparent sincerity, andHerrick turned away without asking any other question. 

Re-entering the room he quietly told the waiting Andrews that nothinghad been seen of Mrs. Rose, nor had she been expected on that particularevening; and the young man thanked him dejectedly and moved to the door. 

"It's a wretched night, " said Herrick. "Won't you have a glass ofsomething before you go?"

Andrews thanked him, but declined; and seeing he was anxious to be gone, Herrick did not press him, but let him depart without more ado. 

He turned again into the sitting-room, meditating on this extraordinarydisappearance; and a minute later his wife joined him, eager to hear thereason of Andrews' quest. 

She came into the room wearing a satin kimono she had bought that day, her curly golden hair bound with a broad pink ribbon, her small, narrowfoot thrust into satin slippers of the same hue. 

At first sight it might have been a schoolgirl who stood there in thedoorway. A second glance would have shown, to an acute observer, faintlines on brow and cheek, an indefinable hardness and sharpness ofoutline which destroyed the semblance of youth; and in its place gave anair of cynical maturity, which, reckoning by actual length of years, wasas deceptive as the former illusion. 

"Well?" She came further into the room and spoke interrogatively. 

"Well?" Herrick turned to face her. "Mrs. Rose's disappearance is ratherremarkable, don't you think?"

"Very. " For the life of him Herrick could not fathom her tone. "Butsince Toni is a free agent and not a slave, I expect she's gone out onbusiness of her own. "

"Queer time for business--nine o'clock on a foggy night, " Herrickreminded her quietly. 

"Well, I daresay she got fed up with the house--and the weather--andwent off to London for a spree. " Eva laughed rather hardly. "A theatrewould be a blessed relief after the dulness of this place. "

"She would not be likely to go alone. "

"Oh, I daresay she would pick up some man to go with. "

"Don't speak like that, Eva, please. Mrs. Rose is not the sort of girlto 'pick up' anybody. "

"Oh, isn't she?" Eva laughed again. "Your precious Toni isn't a saint, you know. Because her husband is a fool and neglects her, that doesn'tsay Toni is too meek and mild to have friends of her own. "

Herrick turned to her angrily. 

"Look here, Eva, I won't have you insinuating such things. Mrs. Rose maynot be a saint--I never met one, by the way--but she is a thoroughlystraight girl; and any friends she might make would be lucky fellows, Ican tell you. "

Eva smiled rather scornfully. 

"Even you are taken in by her big eyes and her quiet ways. Well, you'llall of you get a surprise one of these days, when you find that Toni isas wide-awake as anybody else, and knows a thing or two you don'tsuspect her of. "

"Eva, you are talking nonsense, and you know it. " Herrick was seriouslyannoyed. "I imagined--foolishly--that you were a friend of Toni Rose;and it never entered my head you would say spiteful things of this sortabout her. "

He broke off. 

"Unless----" He hesitated, his eyes full of a vague trouble. 

"Well? Unless--what?"

"Oh, but that's absurd. " He pulled himself together and spokedecisively. "I was going to say, unless you had some reason for speakingso; unless you knew something we don't know--and of course you don't. "

"Of course not. " This time the mockery in her tone was perceptible; andHerrick questioned her hastily. 

"Eva, what do you mean? Do you know anything which would throw a lighton Mrs. Rose's disappearance?"

But Eva had turned sulky and would say nothing more. After one or twovain attempts to induce her to speak, therefore, Herrick abandoned theidea; and Eva withdrew with a malicious little smile on her lips whichrendered her husband still more uneasy. 

He wandered restlessly about his small domain, puzzling his head as towhat could have happened to Toni. He had not seen her often of late. Indeed, he had fancied once or twice that she was avoiding him; and hewas sorry, for the girl had made an instant claim upon his sympathies, and he had often meditated over her chances of turning her marriage intoa success. 

Somehow he had a presentiment of evil. Something seemed to tell him thatToni's flight was premeditated, that she had fled from her homesecretly, with the intention of leaving her husband for ever; andalthough he told himself that the idea was monstrous, grotesque, hecould not shake it off. 

Doubtless there were a dozen explanations. Perhaps she had gone for alittle stroll, and had lost her way in the fog. She might have droppedin at some house in the neighbourhood, and, talking, let the hours slipby. Ten chances to one, she was even now safe at home; and it was absurdto worry about her. And yet----

And yet there _were_ other possibilities. In the fog it would be easyindeed to miss one's road--with tragic results. One false step off thetowing-path, for instance, and the river, dark and silent, would flow onits way, carrying with it a burden hardly more animated, yet a hundredtimes more precious, than the sticks and leaves which floated down withthe current. .. . 

Suddenly Herrick sprang up, unable to bear this haunted solitude anylonger. He felt as though he must go forth to make inquiries forhimself, to ascertain whether Toni had returned or no, whether allpossible measures had been taken for her safety. 

Surely the people at Greenriver would not take his visit amiss? Seeingthat his wife and Mrs. Rose were known to be friends, it was onlynatural that Mrs. Herrick should be anxious; and in any case he couldbear this inaction no longer. 

Going into the hall he selected an overcoat and cap, and then, going tothe foot of the stairs, called out to his wife. 

"Well?" She came to the head of the stairs, and stood looking at himover the banisters. She had a lighted candle in her hand; and somehowthe wavering flame seemed to cast a sinister shadow over her face. 

"I am going to Greenriver, Eva, to see if Mrs. Rose has returned. "

"Oh. " For a moment she hesitated, opened her mouth as though about tospeak and then yawned instead. "Very well. Don't be long. My head achesand I want to get to sleep. "

"I will be as quick as possible, " he said. "I am sorry your head aches. Try to get to sleep before I return. "

He turned away, leaving her staring after him; and her grey eyes werefull of a cruel maliciousness. Eva guessed pretty well how the land lay. Although she had not expected Toni to give in to the young dentist'sentreaties so soon, she never doubted that the girl had gone away withhim; and she laughed as she remembered how quietly the whole affair hadbeen conducted. 

Except on the occasion of Dowson's loan of magazines, Eva did notbelieve his name had ever been mentioned between the Roses; andcertainly it would never enter Owen's head that his wife would go off, leave him, and leave all the glories of Greenriver, to share the lot ofthe inferior and unattractive Mr. Dowson. 

Eva had not the slightest feeling of compassion for the unhappy youngwife driven to this step, partly by her own childish folly, but partly, also, by the evil counsel of the woman she called her friend. Eva knowvery well, had known all along, that there could be no happiness forToni in such a step; and she fully believed that the girl would come tohate and fear the life in front of her. But Eva never for one momentexperienced a thrill of pity for the misguided Toni. Rather the thoughtof the certain misery which faced her filled Eva's perverted mind with awretched triumph; and her only strong emotion at this juncture was apassionate hope that Owen would not learn the truth in time to save hiswife from the worst consequence of her ill-considered action. 

 * * * * *

Meanwhile all was confusion at Greenriver. At first Owen had been merelya little perplexed, not uneasy, at Toni's absence from the dinner-table;but when it became apparent that she was nowhere in the house he grewalarmed. 

Calling Andrews and Fletcher to him, he bade them get lanterns andinstitute a thorough search in the grounds; and the three of themsearched thoroughly--as thoroughly, at least, as was possible in theclammy fog. 

Up and down they went, lanterns swinging, in and out of trees andshrubs; and into the various summer-houses and garden sheds; but therewas no sign of Toni. 

Back into the house--where once again Owen summoned the servants to aconference--and once again was forced to consider himself baffled. 

Kate had seen her mistress last when she carried in the tea. Asked ifMrs. Rose had said anything about going out, she answered in thenegative; and neither cook nor Maggie had sat eyes upon her since lunch. 

Andrews had been out that afternoon, and knew nothing; and Mrs. Blades, when interrogated, merely sniffed and said Mrs. Rose did not oftenhonour the housekeeper's room with her presence. 

It was at this juncture that Andrews was despatched to Herrick'sbungalow; and in his absence Owen rang up on the telephone all thepeople who seemed in the least likely to have seen his wife, but withoutresult. 

A little later he rang up other places--the station, the police station, even the little Cottage Hospital; but no one had heard or seen anythingof Mrs. Rose; and Owen was forced to wait for Andrews' return. 

When the man came, bearing no tidings, Owen understood that the matterwas serious. Toni had gone, left her home in the dusk, departed no oneknew whither. The whole thing was so unexpected, so incredible, that itwas small wonder Owen was completely at sea. 

Suddenly a welcome thought flashed into his head. It was possible Tonihad gone to town on the spur of the moment to visit her relations inBrixton; and the next minute Owen was turning over the leaves of thetelephone directory hurriedly in an endeavour to find the number of thehouse in Winter Gardens. Luckily the house boasted a telephone, installed for the convenience of one of the boys who was connected withan insurance agency which had its headquarters there; and in a veryshort space of time Owen was asking the worthy Mrs. Gibbs over the wirefor news of the missing Toni. But disappointment awaited him. Nothinghad been heard of Toni for three weeks; and she had most certainly notvisited them that day. Mrs. Gibbs, at the other end of the wire, soundedapprehensive, but Owen had no time to consider her feelings, and rangoff abruptly when he found she had nothing to tell him. 

Just as he was turning away from the instrument the door bell rangquietly; and with a quick movement Owen crossed the hall and threw thedoor widely open. 

It was not Toni who stood there, however; and seeing the blank look onOwen's face, Herrick hurried to explain his errand as one merely ofinquiry. 

"Come in, " said Owen mechanically, drawing his visitor inside the house. "It's awfully decent of you, Herrick. You have heard of mywife's--disappearance?"

"Yes. I suppose you have no idea what can have taken her away?"

"Not the slightest. The maids say--now--that her thick motor coat andcap are gone, and her purse--with a few pounds in, I don't know howmuch--is missing from her drawer. But where she has gone is a completemystery. "

"She gave you no hint of her departure?"

"Not the faintest. " Owen became suddenly aware that his visitor's coatwas damp with the wetting mist; and his hospitable instincts awoke. "Isay, come into the library and have a drink. You're pretty well soaked. "

He led the way to the library, regardless of Herrick's disclaimers; andthe other man thought it best to follow him, first asking permission tobring Olga inside the house--a permission readily granted. Once insidethe warm, tranquil room, Owen insisted upon Herrick shedding his coatand accepting a whisky and soda; but though he pressed Herrick to sitdown and even took a cigarette himself, it was evident that Owen was allon thorns with anxiety and apprehension. 

"You haven't heard your wife say she wanted a change? You know women arerestless beings. "

"Not Toni. She was always happy here. I'd promised to take her toSwitzerland for Christmas, and that pleased her; but she was never keenabout going away. "

"I see. She was happy here. Well"--his gaze wandered dreamily round thelamp-lit room, with its mullioned windows and well-filled shelves--"Idon't wonder at that. Anyone might be happy in such a home as this. "

"Yes, she always loved Greenriver. " Unconsciously both men used the pasttense. "Ever since I brought her here as my wife she loved the oldhouse. "

"She was happy, you say?" Herrick felt a sudden desire to probe beneaththe surface. "You never--forgive me--you never found herdepressed--or--or unsettled--in low spirits?"

"No. She was sometimes a little--well, what shall we call it?--notbad-tempered, but well, a trifle jumpy; but she seemed to be in goodspirits as a rule. "

"You never--I suppose"--he laughed, trying to make the question soundcasual--"you never had any disagreements--any little fallings-out? Oh, don't think me impertinent--I was only wondering whether perhaps Mrs. Rose had taken offence at some little thing--and had gone off for ashort visit somewhere to--well, to punish you. "

He had half expected Owen to resent the implication; but Owen took itquietly. 

"We never exactly quarrelled, " he said. "At least, that isn't quitetrue. We did disagree, more than once, on one particular subject; andlast night we certainly had a few words. We both lost our tempers--Iconfess I lost mine--and I said one or two things I'd have given theworld to recall afterwards. "

"I see. " Herrick spoke gravely. "Well, no doubt Mrs. Rose knows you didnot mean anything unkind----"

"I hope so. By God, I hope so. " Owen's voice was hoarse. "If I thoughtToni had taken my words seriously I--why, I said things I didn't mean inthe very least, and I never for one instant dreamed she would take themas spoken in earnest. "

"I see. " Herrick repeated the words. "You will pardon me for saying thatMrs. Rose always struck me as being more sensitive than the majority ofwomen. "

"Did she?" Owen stared at him, struck suddenly by the significance ofhis manner. "By Jove, Herrick, I never suspected my wife of any unduesensitiveness. She always seemed to me too young, too immature andundeveloped to take things much to heart. Her youth was one of thegreatest charms about her to me. It never struck me she was a woman, capable of a woman's sufferings----"

He broke off suddenly. 

"Stay, though. Once I thought--she looked at me and I thought hereyes looked different--not like the eyes of a child. I wonderedthen . .. But . .. Oh, no, she couldn't think I meant the things I said. Once or twice I have felt exasperated at what I thought was herchildishness, her ignorance of the world, and I've said things now andagain, unkind things, even cruel things sometimes . .. But I've beensecure all the time in the thought that she didn't understand. .. . "

"You wouldn't have hurt her--wilfully?"

"Hurt her?" Owen stared at him. "Good God, man, what do you take me for?A man doesn't wilfully hurt his wife--the woman he loves. And to hurtToni would be like hurting a child. "

"Mr. Rose"--Herrick took a resolution to speak plainly--"are you sureyou did not treat your wife rather too much as a child? Are you sure youdidn't deny her the right of a woman, the right to share your life, yourwork, your aims? Are you quite sure you never made her feel herinferiority to you in different ways, never let her see that in somematters she was perhaps hardly your equal? Oh, I know you areexceptionally clever, brilliant, and she is only a simple girl; butstill she was not a child; and it may have been rather galling to her tobe treated as one. "

For a moment Owen sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the other man's facewith a stare whose earnestness was its justification. 

Then--

"Look here, Herrick, " he said, "I believe you are trying to tell mesomething--something about my wife which I don't know. Well, what is it?I think, as her husband, I have a right to ask you to share yourknowledge with me. What do you say?"

"I think you have every right, " Herrick answered quietly, "and I asknothing better than to tell you all I know. "

Without further preliminaries he repeated to Owen the conversation hehad had with Toni on the day of the Vicarage Bazaar; and a sudden lightbroke over Owen as he listened. 

"You are alluding to the occasion when Lady Martin and the Vicar's wifecalled her ignorant, frivolous, empty-headed. "

"She told you?" Herrick was surprised. 

"Yes--long afterwards. But I laughed at her and told her it wasnonsense--jealousy, or something like that. I never dreamed she hadtaken it to heart. "

"She took it so much to heart that she began to wonder how much wastrue, and how she could best rise above the defects with which theyendowed her. She honoured me by asking my advice; and I was only tooglad to help her. She called herself ignorant, and I endeavoured to showher how, by study and application, she might repair that ignorance. Irecommended her books, mapped her out a course of reading--oh, it's nouse going over it all now; only just what seems important to me is this. What had specially wounded her was the fact that they had evidentlydenied her the possession of a soul. " He smiled rather tenderly. "And itwas her passionate desire to show that she _had_ a soul which drove herto all those desperate expedients of study and the like. "

He paused, but Owen did not speak. 

"I wonder if the process of making one's soul is a painful one, afterall? Like most new-born creatures, I expect it's a delicate, sensitivething at first, easily wounded by a word, a glance. .. . I don't supposeit has a very joyful time in the beginning, struggling towards thefuller light like a weak, fragile little flower opening its petals oneby one to the sun. But luckily a soul is a very vital thing. It canstand a good deal in the way of unkindness or neglect withoutshrivelling up. And I daresay a few kindly words, a sympathetic thought, are like water to a dying plant--or as the Bible has it 'as the shadowof a great rock in a thirsty land. '"

As he finished his speech Owen broke in impetuously:

"Don't say any more, Herrick. My God, what a fool I've been! To thinkthat all this was taking place beneath my eyes and I was too blind, tooself-absorbed to see. "

"Well, everyone is blind, at times, " said Herrick gently. "I'm nottrying to make you unhappy, Rose--the whole affair is no business ofmine, and you may well resent my interference. "

"No, no, " said Owen hastily. "God knows your interference is only toojustifiable. But----"

"Perhaps I am to blame, after all, for trying to engineer so delicate asituation. The fact is, I felt a great pity for Mrs. Rose. She was onlya girl after all, and girlhood is a lively, careless, light-heartedperiod. But although her soul appeared--then--to be unawakened, I knewit was there all the time; and I confess I hoped that when she came intofull possession of it you would draw nearer to one another, and a betterunderstanding would ensue. But----"

He paused. 

"Well? Your plan hasn't worked?"

"I don't know. The thing is, not so much _where_ has Mrs. Rose gone, but_why_ did she go? Look here, Rose. I'm perfectly certain that her onethought all through has been for your welfare; and though on the face ofit it seems peculiar that she should take this means of proving her lovefor you, I'm quite convinced she is acting on your behalf in this odddisappearance of hers. "

"But how could I benefit by her disappearance?"

"I don't know. But I am quite sure----"

He broke off suddenly, and the next instant the two men started to theirfeet as the hoot of a motor-horn sounded loudly outside the house. 

"God, Herrick--here's Toni. " Owen dashed out of the room followed byHerrick, and the two reached the front door at the same moment. 

Andrews, who had come running from the kitchen regions at the sound ofthe horn, flung open the door, and disclosed the big car with itsflaring head-lamps, throbbing itself to a standstill at the foot of thesteps. 

A young man jumped out--a man whom neither Rose nor Herrick had everseen before--and, rushing up the steps, looked wildly round him. 

"Where is she?" he demanded loudly. "Where is she?"

"To whom do you allude?" asked Owen coldly, his fastidious soul revoltedby the spectacle which the young man presented. Dowson was hatless, dishevelled. In his agony of mind at Toni's departure he had torn hiscollar apart, feeling himself choking, and during the drive toGreenriver he had rumpled his hair so wildly that it stood up in maddisorder over his head. His face was dusty, the mist had soaked hisclothes till they clung tightly to his narrow frame, and about his wholefigure there was an air of unkempt desolation which was unattractive inthe extreme. 

"I allude to Toni--your wife, if you like to call her that. " Theunfortunate young man was distraught between disappointment and anxiety. "Where is she? Has she come home after all?"

"My wife?" Owen raised his eyebrows superciliously. "My good man, whatare you talking about? If you know anything about Mrs. Rose be kindenough to tell us at once what it is, but please remember she is notToni--to you. "

"Oh, isn't she?" Beneath the weight of conflicting emotions Mr. Dowsonwas losing his head. "Well, she was going to be, that's all. She cameaway with me to-night of her own free will . .. And we wore going tocross to Paris, and then . .. Oh, I don't know what then, but anyway shewas going to stay with me, and when you had divorced her----"

"Divorced her?" Owen uttered the words in so ferocious a tone that theyoung man fell back a pace. "What the devil do you mean by making asuggestion of that sort? And why in God's name should I divorce mywife--for you?"

The scorn with which he spoke the last two words drove Leonard Dowson tofrenzy. 

"Why? Why not? You never loved her--you never knew how to treat her. Youmade her miserable, you let her see you thought her inferior to you, notgood enough for you . .. You wouldn't dismiss that woman you had to helpyou though you knew To--your wife hated her. .. . "

He was lashing himself to greater and greater fury at the thought ofToni's sufferings. 

"Even when you'd made her so wretched that she was ready to die, shestill thought of you. She knew I loved her as she deserved to be loved, and she was coming away with me, not because she loved me, but becauseshe thought by leaving you she'd set you free--free to divorce her, tocast her off, to marry someone else, for all I know--some lady whomyou'd perhaps be pleased to call your equal. "

Beneath his savage indictment even Owen stood dumb. There is alwayssomething electrifying about absolute sincerity, and no one, listening, could possibly doubt that the man was speaking from the very depth ofhis soul. 

As he stood panting, glaring at Owen with hatred in his eyes, Herrickstepped forward with a question. 

"Excuse me, sir"--neither of them knew, as yet, the name of thevisitor--"may I ask how you became possessed of all this information? Iam perfectly sure that Mrs. Rose herself has not been your informant, but I fail to see----in the first place, may we ask your name?"

"My name is Dowson, Leonard Dowson. " He spoke defiantly. "And as to whotold me, well, it doesn't much matter, that I can see, but it was afriend of--of Mrs. Rose. " He dared not again call her "Toni. "

"A friend?" In one sickening flash of intuition, Herrick knew who hadbeen Toni's evil genius. He stopped short, physically incapable ofquestioning further; but Owen had no such scruples. 

"Who is this--friend?" He could not help the sneer; and Herrick paled inthe lamplight, fearing yet powerless to avert the answer. 

"I don't suppose it matters telling you. " Dowson paused. "It was Mrs. Herrick--Mrs. Rose's best friend--who told me; and she swore that everyword was true. "

There was a short, tense silence; and Andrews, who had been hoveringunnoticed in the background, suddenly dived through the baize door anddisappeared, as one who feels his presence an intrusion. 

"So it was Mrs. Herrick who gave you this precious information. " Owen, very pale, turned to Herrick. "Herrick, I won't insult your wife byasking if this is true. It's a lie, of course. Mrs. Herrick is a friendof my wife's. She would never play such a treacherous, underhandpart----"

"I . .. I don't know what to say. .. . "

"No, I should think you don't. " Dowson spoke vehemently. "You know itwas she who put me up to it all along. She said Mrs. Rose had owned tobeing--well, fond of me in her way, though of course she put her husbandfirst. But she told me I had a chance, that if I'd offer to take Mrs. Rose away she'd come . .. Oh, she convinced me fast enough. I daresay Iwas a fool, but I couldn't bear to stand by and say nothing when bytaking her away----"

He stopped suddenly. Owen had made a threatening step forward. 

"Look here"--Owen's voice was choked with rage--"stop talking all thatrot, and tell me what you've done with my wife. First, of all, where isshe?"

"How can I tell you when I don't know?" retorted the young man almostrudely. "She came away with me right enough, and then we had an accidentto the car--a tyre burst--and we went into a hotel at Stratton to waitfor it to be repaired. I went to the post-office to send a telegram, andwhen I came back she'd gone. "

"Gone--where?"

"Oh, aren't I telling you I don't know?" In his excitement the youngdentist's refinement fell away from him, showing the rough human manbeneath. "She slipped out soon's my back was turned--left a scrap ofpaper saying she couldn't go on with me--and that's all I know. "

"But she must have left some traces. "

"She left her dressing-bag, if that's anything, " said Dowson gloomily. "It's in the car outside. I thought at least she'd have come back here, and I had to come on to make sure. I"--for a second his rough voicesoftened--"I had to be certain she was safe. "

"Well, she isn't here. " Owen spoke harshly. "You were very ready to takeher away, with your damned philanderings and what not, but you might atleast have looked after her. Where is she? Good God, man, you're notonly a blackguard and a thief--you're a damned fool as well!"

"I may be a fool, but I'm not a blackguard!" Mr. Dowson's eyes blazed inhis pallid face. "_I_ didn't marry the girl and then neglect her--_I_didn't win her love and then throw it aside as of no importance--_I_didn't break her heart with my sneers and coldness, as you did. You maybe her husband and I'm only a man who loves her, but I'll guarantee I'dhave known how to treat her a million times better than you ever did. "

The two men glared at one another furiously; and for a moment Herrickfeared Owen was about to strike the man who defied him. Owen's face wasconvulsed with rage, his eyes looked almost black, and a vein in histemple hammered madly. 

Herrick stepped forward hastily. 

"I say, excuse me reminding you that this is not the time forrecriminations. Mrs. Rose has not returned, and the thing to do now isto set all possible inquiries on foot. You agree with me, Rose?"

Owen turned to him, the passion dying out of his face, leaving only agreat weariness and a great dread. 

"You are right. We must find Toni. But how?"

"Well, we'd better make inquiries at Stratton first. You are on the'phone? Good. Well, we will ring up the railway station, and the hotels. Mrs. Rose may have gone to one of them for the night. And we could trythe garages. Possibly she will hire a car to bring her home. "

"Yes. And I'll order out the car and try the roads myself. " Owen lookedsuddenly alert. "If she should be attempting to walk home, or anythingof that sort, I should pick her up. "

"Yes. And I should give orders to the servants to have everything readyfor Mrs. Rose--food, and fires, and things, when she returns. She'll bechilled to the bone with this mist. "

"Yes. I'll do it at once. I'll go and get on the 'phone, if you'll be sogood as to ring for the servants. I'll order a fire in her room, and alittle supper. "

He turned away, full of hope now that there was something to be done;and Herrick was following him, when Dowson, who had been temporarilyforgotten, asserted his presence. 

"And what am I to do while you're searching for her?" His rage had diedaway, and he looked the picture of dejection. "Can't I do anything?I--you know I'd die for Toni--for Mrs. Rose. Can't you suggest somethingfor me to be doing?"

Owen turned on him fiercely. 

"_You?_ You've done enough harm for one night. Suppose you take yourselfoff--we've seen all we want of you, I assure you. "

"But----"

"Don't stand arguing there, " said Owen in a voice whose fury made theyoung man wince. "We've had more than enough of you. Be so good as totake yourself off before I kick you out of the house. "

Leonard Dowson gave one last look at the other man's face as though tosee whether this threat was meant to be taken literally. What he readthere apparently decided him; for with a hoarse sigh he turned away inthe direction of the front door. 

Without waiting to see if he were obeyed or not, Owen hastened away tothe telephone; and it was Herrick who opened the door and watched theyoung man enter the car. 

A second later he dismounted again, this time bearing Toni'sdressing-bag, which in her hurry she had left behind; and carrying it upthe steps he put it down, almost tenderly, inside the hall. 

"Thank you. That will do. " Herrick watched him as he hesitated, uncertainly. "Don't let me detain you. " He held the door widely open. "Good-night. "

Thus dismissed, the young man had no option. He went out into thechilly, misty night, and mounted the car, which moved swiftly away downthe gloomy drive. 

When Herrick had closed the door he paused a moment, wondering if he hadnot better follow the late visitor's example and vanish quietly into thenight. 

But he heard Owen's voice calling him as he stood hesitating, and foundthat, in spite of his wife's treachery, he himself was not debarred fromgiving help. 

He attempted, awkwardly, to take his leave; but Owen was in no mood tolet him go. Whatever Mrs. Herrick's part in the tragedy, it was evidentthat her husband was to be exonerated; and although his heart was sickwithin him at the thought of Eva's wickedness, Herrick was wise enoughto see that to implicate himself would be to make matters worse thanthey were already. 

 * * * * *

But although the two men made all possible inquiries, they could hearnothing of the missing Toni. No one had seen her, no one heard of her;and as the hours wore on it seemed as though the mist had indeedswallowed her up so completely that all trace of her was lost. 

After nearly an hour's futile telephoning Owen set off in the waitingcar to scour the countryside; while at his urgent request Herrick stayedbehind at Greenriver, in case Toni should arrive in her husband'sabsence and find no one to welcome her. Herrick agreed to stay at once, though he knew his prolonged absence would annoy and possibly upset hiswife. She deserved no consideration, he told himself sternly. It waslargely through her machinations that this thing had come to pass; and afew hours' anxiety would be a small enough price to pay for hertreachery. 

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning when Owen returned, tired out, despondent, and with no slightest scrap of news. He came into thelibrary looking ready to drop with fatigue, and found Herrick sittingover the fire apparently lost in thought. Olga and Jock, who had longsince fraternized, lay side by side on the hearthrug; and all was quietand peaceful. But when Herrick sprang up, hearing Owen's step, it waseasy to see that for him, too, the night had worn away in keenestsuspense. 

"Well? Any news?"

"No. None. " Owen slipped off his thick coat and sank down, wearily, intoa chair. "No one has seen anything of her. The hotel people didn't hearher go, and no one has the faintest notion where she went. "

He shivered, holding out his hands to the blaze. 

"Herrick, where can she be? My God, I'd give ten years of my life now toknow she was safe. But to think of her wandering about in the fog--notdaring--not even wanting--to come home . .. Thinking always of me as theselfish brute who neglected her and laughed aside her wishes. .. . "

He paused a moment, then began again. 

"It wouldn't be so bad if she'd been in love with that fool who was hereto-night. I could have understood her going off with him then. But itwas me she loved all along--she was thinking of me when she went outinto the cruel night to join him. .. . I'm very certain she shrank fromthe step . .. Well, events prove it, don't they? . .. But she was thinkingonly of my good and so she nerved herself to do it. .. . "

"Yes. " Herrick spoke quietly. "There's no doubt, I think, that your wifeloved you as very few men are loved. It seems--forgive me--a cruel jestof Fate that you couldn't return her love. .. . "

"But I _did_--and _do_!" Owen's voice rang out with all its old force. "Before God, man, I do love Toni . .. Oh, I didn't at first. I confess Imarried her without caring for her as a man should care for the woman hemakes his wife. But I've grown fonder of her ever since. Oh, I know it'sall true, what that fellow said--I've been thoughtless, unkind, I didneglect her, did let her see how I despised her help, but you don't knowwhat it is to a man to find his work spoilt for the lack of a littleintelligent sympathy. .. . Oh, I'm not excusing myself--I had no right toput my work before everything else--even before Toni--and I did. But Godknows I'm punished for it now. "

Again he broke off abruptly, only to go on again hastily. 

"I own I was mistaken in my reading of Toni's character. I had no ideashe was capable of this sort of sacrifice. "

"You never saw into the depths of her soul. If you had----"

"I should have realized what she was. Oh, I know, " said Owen, withhumility, "I know now that Toni is a woman, and I pray to God with allmy soul that my knowledge has not come too late. "

"You think if you got her back now you might be happy together?"

"Happy? If I could make Toni happy, she would be happy indeed. " His tonewas still tinged with that new humility, and in that dreary hour Herrickbegan to understand him better than he had ever dreamed of doing. 

When at last the grey dawn crept through the large windows Herrick roseto go. 

"I'll get off home for an hour or two. You'd better try to have a sleep, Rose. We can't do anything more just yet; and it's no use wasting one'sstrength. "

"Very well. " Owen rose and stretched himself, yawning. "I won't go tobed--I'll sleep on the couch here. You see she might come at anymoment. "

Herrick saw it was of no use attempting to urge him to go to bed; soagreed, at once, that such a return was possible, and two minutes laterhe and Olga were outside the house in the chilly silver dawn. 

The fog had lifted in the night, and for that Herrick was thankful; butthe air was biting, and as he walked briskly along, Olga trottingalertly beside him, he owned to himself that a cup of hot coffee, followed by a sleep, would be welcome indeed. 

He let himself softly into the house and proceeded to make some coffeewith the aid of the gas-ring. He was gulping it down, feeling the liquiddriving the cold out of his bones, when Olga growled faintly; andlooking up, he saw his wife standing in the doorway surveying himmaliciously. 

"Well? Has the lost lamb been found and returned to the fold?" Her tonewas mockery itself. 

"No. " For an instant he wondered whether he should accuse her of hertreachery; but suddenly he resolved to wait till he was more normal, after a rest. 

"Really? Well, I don't think she will return just yet. I expect the nexttime her loving husband meets our dear Toni, the Divorce Court will betheir meeting-place. "

A wave of anger swept over Herrick. 

"So that man was right--it was your doing. " He put down his cup andlooked steadily at her. "It was through your--your advice that thatunfortunate girl left her home and wont off with Dowson. "

"It wasn't through my advice, " she said. "As a matter of fact I didn'tknow they had fixed it up so quickly. Three days ago it was only a vaguenotion--quite in the air, I assure you. I had no idea it had actuallycome off. "

"You knew, then, that it was a possibility, at least?"

"Yes. " Suddenly she stopped and stared at him. "But how do you know? Shedidn't leave any message, I suppose?"

"I know because Mrs. Rose's heart failed her when she had taken thefirst step. She gave this man Dowson the slip at Stratton and heimmediately returned to Greenriver to ask if she had come back. "

"And she hadn't?"

"Of course not. " He spoke sternly. "Between you, you have made it almostimpossible for that poor child to return unless her husband fetches her. Why you should have sought to ruin their homes I confess I fail tounderstand. Neither Rose nor his wife had done you any harm. "

"No. " She stared sombrely at him. "That's true, I suppose. But--oh, youcan't understand, of course. "

"Understand what, Eva?" He tried to speak gently, aware through all hermockery of something piteous, tragic in her attitude. 

"You can't understand how I hate to see happiness. " She threw back herhead and beneath her white wrapper he saw her breast heave stormily. "Iwas happy once, before those men sent me to prison. I used to sing andlaugh--as Toni did--I used to enjoy every moment of my life . .. And thenI liked to see people all round me being happy too. .. But I was takenaway from it all, from the sunshine, the gay, happy people, the shops, the theatres, taken away and shut up like a wild animal in acell . .. Oh . .. " She shivered, and all at once his heart meltedtowards her. 

"Don't think of that now, dear. " He put his hand with real kindness onher shoulder. "It's all over and done with, and there are better thingsin store. "

"Not for me. " Her tone was unutterably forlorn. "My life is spoilt, broken--and now"--all at once her expression changed and she spokevindictively--"now all I can do is to break other lives!"

"Hush, Eva. " He removed his hand from her arm. "Don't talk so. Andremember, if Mrs. Rose comes home safely, you must leave her alone forthe future. "

For a moment she said nothing, biting her lip as though in thought. Thensuddenly she shrugged her shoulders and moved away without a word. 

 * * * * *

When daylight came Owen and Herrick resumed their search for the missinggirl, calling to their aid every device which the wit of man couldsuggest. 

They left no stone unturned; and though Owen shrank from the necessarypublicity Scotland Yard was informed, and a huge reward offered forinformation about the vanished Toni. 

But the days passed, glided into weeks, which in their turn grew intomonths; and Toni was not found. 

CHAPTER XXVII

On a sunny afternoon in March of the following year, Toni Rose sat aloneon the slope of an Italian hill-side overlooking the blue Mediterranean, which lay stretched beneath her like a sheet of living turquoise. 

The air was delightfully warm and still, and scented with the freshbreath of myriads of violets which dotted the short, soft turf here andthere like a multitude of tiny purple stars. Everywhere the almondblossom was in its full beauty of rose and cream, and the sight of anorchard away on the hill-side, with the faint blue sky above thepink-and-white branches, and the bluer sea behind, gave to the beholderthe effect of a delicate Japanese water-colour painting. 

The Bay of Naples fully deserved its world-wide reputation for beauty onthis bright spring afternoon. Across its waters rose hill upon hill, thesombre giant Vesuvius brooding like some dark monster over the ruinedcountryside at its base, the lovelier, more hopeful snow-crowned peaksbehind rising like a fairy army beneath whose beneficent gaze the ogrewas--for the time--vanquished and impotent. 

The bay was full of craft, as usual. Big liners, tramp steamers, a greybattleship or two, looked scornfully down on the little Italian boats, some piled high with yellow fruit, others less imposing, little pleasurecraft manned by youthful boatmen with swarthy brown faces and earsornamented with huge golden rings. 

Land and sea alike smiled in the glorious sunshine. It was a day onwhich life seemed a very sweet and desirable opportunity; but in Toni'sface there was no hint of gladness, none of her former almost pagandelight in the beautiful out-of-door world around her. 

Although her skin was delicately warmed and coloured by the genialSouthern sun, the becoming tan could not hide the thinness of the oncerounded cheeks, nor disguise the hopeless droop of the lips which hadbeen used to smile so readily. Toni looked, indeed, the ghost of herformer self as she sat gazing out over the Mediterranean; and it wasvery evident that whatever had been the result of her flight to thoseshe had left behind, her own happiness had suffered a disastrouseclipse. 

After all, her disappearance had been easily arranged. On that foggynight when she had fled from Leonard Dowson, terrified by the spectre ofa future life which his words had evoked, she had run, without in theleast realizing her direction, straight to the railway station; and theidea of London had at once presented itself to her mind. A train wasjust starting, and Toni hastily took a ticket and jumped into a carriagewithout giving herself time to think. 

Arriving at the terminus she had a momentary indecision as to her nextstep. As she stood on the platform she felt herself to be desperately, hopelessly alone; and for one wild moment she wondered how Owen wouldreceive her if she went back and flung herself on his mercy. 

But something in her, perhaps the sturdy, independent blood of herYorkshire ancestors, seemed to forbid such a course. She could notreturn, creep back to the shelter of the home she had abandoned; andeven Toni's youthful optimism could not promise her a very heartywelcome when the truth of her flight should be known. 

If only she had gone alone . .. If there had been no man in the case tocomplicate matters and compromise the situation--in that first moment ofdespair Toni hated Leonard Dowson, loathed herself for imagining itwould be possible to go away with him; and at the same time realizedthat whatever happened she would find it almost impossible to explainthe man's introduction into the affair in any way save that which, werethe story known, would be taken, perhaps naturally, for granted. 

Suddenly the thought of Italy flashed into her brain, and with thethought came instant resolution. 

She had still twelve pounds in her purse--more than enough to take herto Naples; and once there she could surely discover some friend of thebygone days to whom she might apply for advice as to her futuremaintenance. 

In Italy she could live frugally, as the peasants lived; and all at onceToni felt a great nostalgia for the glowing South, with its sunshine andhot blue skies, its orange-groves, its languorous noons and warm, scented nights. 

The Italian blood in her--the blood transmitted to her by her mother, spoke in its turn; and suddenly Toni felt that in that land of warmthand colour she could find the rest and peace for which her sorely-drivensoul cried out. .. . 

And then the miracle happened. 

Later that evening she was standing on the platform of another greatstation, waiting her turn to approach the booking-office where she mightobtain her ticket to Italy--and home--when a wail in a thin foreignvoice fell upon her ear, and she turned round to face a dark andagitated-looking young woman, neatly dressed, who was bewailing herselfin the fluent Italian of the lower classes. 

"What is it? Can I help you?"

Toni spoke impulsively, sorry for the young woman even in the midst ofher own numbing grief; and the other turned round in astonishment athearing her own tongue. 

"Oh, Signorina!" She evidently took Toni for a compatriot. "Such amisfortune has overcome me--I do not know what is to be done. I am herewith my charges"--two sleepy-looking English children stood yawningbeside her--"on the way to Naples, and behold, the English Signora--thegoverness, you understand--who was to have come with us to deliver thechildren safely to their parents is at the last moment unable to come. "

"But why can't she come?"

"_Non lo so!_" The woman shrugged her shoulders. "She sends me but atelegram to the waiting-room--an accident, illness--I know not--but shedoes not come, and I must go alone with the two little ones, who areboth delicate and will be ill the whole journey through!"

A wild inspiration flashed into Toni's mind. 

"You go to Naples?" she said. "I too wish to go, but hardly care toundertake the journey alone. May I then come with you and help you withthe little ones?"

The Italian's quick mind grasped the idea at once; and she foresaw withdelighted gratitude that the journey might be shorn of half its terrorsif the plan were carried out. 

She poured forth a stream of voluble explanations. She had already takenthe tickets for the party; and she was certain that her employer, awealthy English lady, would be only too grateful if the Signorina wouldaccept the fare in return for her help in the matter. A carriage hadbeen reserved for the party, and the whole journey might be taken incomplete comfort and security, since this so fortunate meeting with acompatriot. 

To Toni the idea came as a veritable boon. In her turn, she saw all thepersonal benefits of the plan; and, after all, since she could be ofreal, practical assistance, she saw no reason why she should scruple toavail herself of the Italian nurse's offer. 

Five minutes later the affair was arranged. The foreigner, Luisa byname, was at first incredulous on hearing of her new comrade's mixednationality, but she readily accepted such explanations as Toni gaveher, and was quick to recognize the value of Toni's perfect English atthe present juncture. 

Toni's lack of luggage puzzled her a little, but Toni murmured somethingabout a lost dressing-bag which satisfied the other woman; and when thelong train steamed out of the station at last Toni was comfortablyensconced in a reserved first-class compartment, making friends with thetwo little girls with whom she was to travel. 

This fact explains the non-success of all inquiries at the railwaystations, or, later, on the boat. The authorities were on the look-outfor a young Englishwoman journeying alone; and never associated theyoung Italian lady travelling, apparently, with her two children and anurse, with the solitary girl for whom they searched. 

Toni's fur coat was by no means a unique garment. There were plenty tobe seen at this time of year; and in any case the girl, protected by herunassailable bodyguard, was able to pass under the eyes of the very menwho were anxiously on the look-out for her. 

The journey to which Luisa had looked forward with such apprehensionpassed off well enough. Toni was obliged to rouse herself from her owndejection to look after the children, who were both delicate and spoilt;but luckily they took an instant fancy to the travelling companion sostrangely provided, and behaved with commendable good-temper throughout. 

When at length the train ran into the railway station at Naples, Tonisuddenly found herself faced with another problem. The nurse had takenher on trust, so to speak, and had been too grateful for her help toseek to probe into her private affairs; but now that she must face themother of the pretty children, to whom she had become quite attached, Toni realized that she would have to give some more plausibleexplanation of her situation than that which had contented the impetuousLuisa. 

She got out of the carriage at last, her arms full of the children'swraps and toys, with knees which shook under her at the thought of theordeal to come; but one quick look into Mrs. Moody's frank and kindlyface reassured her a little. 

She soon found, moreover, that the lady was as ready to take her ontrust as the maid had been. When she had heard Luisa's volubleexplanation of the part Toni had played during the long and wearyingjourney, Mrs. Moody turned to Toni with an expression of real gratitudeon her still pretty face. 

"I really don't know how to thank you, Miss . .. Er . .. " She hesitated, and Toni quickly supplied her with the first name she could think of, the name of her Italian mother's race. "Oh, but surely you are English?"

In her agitation Toni murmured something about an Italian father, notmeaning to deceive, but too tired out and confused to pay much heed toher words; and Mrs. Moody put her hand kindly on the girl's arm. 

"Well, English or not, you've been a god-send to Luisa and the chicks;so if you have no friends waiting for you at this moment, you must comehome with me and let my husband thank you properly. "

Somehow Toni found herself stepping into the beautifully-appointedmotor-car which waited outside the station; and ten minutes later shewas helped out of the motor and taken up a broad and palatial-lookingstaircase to the large and lofty flat inhabited by her new friends. 

Friends indeed they proved to be. Without the slightest hesitation theyaccepted Toni's rather faltering story of an engagement in England whichhad proved unsatisfactory; and on learning that her intention inreturning to Italy had been to look for another post, they looked at oneanother in a meaning silence which was explained later, when Mrs. Moodyasked her quietly if she would care to undertake the post ofgoverness-companion to the two small children with whom she was alreadyon terms of friendship. 

For a moment Toni hesitated. To stay on here, deceiving her employers, representing herself, falsely, as an unmarried woman, would be a poorreturn for their kindness and generosity; but to tell the truth wassurely impossible. Yet she could not bring herself to shut the doorwhich would open to her a new and honourable life in which she mightfind, if not happiness, at least content; and poor Toni was torn betweenconflicting emotions as she stood listening to her new friend'sproposals. 

Mrs. Moody, reading her indecision in her face, bade her think thematter over for a week while she remained with them as an honouredguest; and Toni did so, coming at last to the conclusion that, much asshe longed to accept the post, to do so would not be fair to herprospective employers. 

She refused, therefore, but with so genuine a regret that the refusalcould not give offence. The Moodys, however, while recognizing thegirl's claim to independence of judgment, in their turn asserted theirclaim to befriend her, and Toni was only too ready to accept theiradvice and assistance. 

Hearing that it was of importance that she should set about making somemoney without delay, Mr. Moody secured for her a post asassistant-librarian and secretary in a big library belonging to anItalian friend of his own. 

It was something of an irony that Toni's work should take her into anatmosphere that could not fail to remind her of her husband and hisliterary aspirations; and her heart used to contract pitifully withinher sometimes when she entered the big, lofty, book-lined room, whichwas not unlike the stately library in the beautiful old house by theriver where her married life had come to so tragic a close. 

She owed the post to her proficiency in Italian and English rather thanto any scholarly ability. To the end of her life Toni would never bebookish. She would always prefer living to reading about life; and itwas fortunate that her work in this new library consisted largely oftranslating, roughly, from books in Italian and English, or in typing, from dictation, in either language. 

She grew to like her employment in the quiet, medićval-looking room. Heremployer, a gentle, sad-eyed elderly man with an invalid daughter, treated her with the utmost kindness; and if it had not been that everyfibre in her being cried out incessantly for Owen, she might in timehave been content. 

Her first friends, the Moodys, had settled her in rooms with an oldservant of their own who had married a little Italian bookseller, andwere unremitting in their kindness to her; but Toni desired only to bealone in her leisure hours and refused many of the invitations whichMrs. Moody sent her from time to time. 

So the days passed, quietly and tranquilly enough; and though to Toni itseemed that all the joy, all the happiness had fled from life, that the"sweet things" had lost their sweetness, the sunshine its glory, theflowers their perfume, she was not ungrateful for the peace which hadcome to her so unexpectedly. 

Of her husband, of Greenriver, she never dared to think. She guessed, drearily, that Owen would feel bound, in humanity, to institute a searchfor his missing wife; but by a fortunate chance she had been able tocover her tracks and disappear effectually; and as the weeks glided by, and discovery was apparently as far off as ever, she began to feel, witha miserable certainty, that in time her husband would relinquish thesearch, and settle down to forget the frivolous, uneducated girl who hadnot known how to appreciate the honour he had done her in making her hiswife. 

To-day, this glorious spring day when the violet-scented air held a hintof summer's warmth in its breath, Toni was making holiday. 

Her employer was from home, called to London by the hint of a wonderfulbook sale to be held there the following week; and Toni's time was herown for nearly eight days. 

She had started early that morning on a pilgrimage to the little villagewhere, long ago, she had passed the first happy years of her life; andhad arrived, before noon, to find, as she had half-expected, that noneof her old friends remained to give her welcome. 

Old Fiammetta was dead, as was, of course, the kindly Padre who hadbefriended Roger Gibbs when the young widower had decided to stay on, with his little daughter, in the home which his Antonia had made sojoyous. A few of the children with whom she had played lived here still, but they had grown into sturdy, swarthy young men and women who had longsince forgotten the dark-eyed child whose Italian had been as fluent astheir own; and though she wandered disconsolately through the stragglinglittle village, she met with no single glance of recognition. 

She did not know that some months previously urgent inquiries had beenmade at the tiny post-office as to whether a young lady had arrived inthe village unexpectedly. It had struck Owen as possible that, in hermadness, Toni might have returned to her childhood's home; but although, had she not met Luisa, Toni would probably have done so, that chancemeeting at the station had turned her feet into another path, andnaturally no one here knew anything of her whereabouts. 

She had intended spending the whole of her holiday in the village; butthe absence of any welcome depressed her sensitive spirit, and shedecided to return to Naples in the evening and spend the days of herfreedom in exploring more thoroughly the fascinating streets and bywaysof the picturesque and romantic town. 

It was late when she arrived home, carrying her little valise; and oldJanet, who in spite of her long residence in Italy was stilluncompromisingly British, was surprised to see her lodger returning. 

"I thought you were going to stay a few days, " she said quitereproachfully. "Now a real good change would have been the very bestthing for you, miss, and I'm right sorry to see you back. "

"You're not very kind, Janet!" Toni smiled rather wearily, "I couldn'tstay . .. All my friends were dead and gone . .. There were only ghostsleft to welcome me, and I couldn't bear it!"

The old woman read the disappointment in the girl's tone and was sorryfor her. 

"Well, come along in, miss, and I'll bring you some supper right away. There's an omelette, and some lovely risotto I'm making for Pietro, anda glass or two of Chianti will soon hearten you up--though for my part Ithink a bottle of good English stout is worth all the thin wines inItaly!"

When, later, she bustled in again with some excellent coffee, the oldwoman brought a bundle of papers which had been left by Mrs. Moodyearlier in the day. There were various English and American magazines, and a few weekly papers; and had doubtless been intended to lighten theloneliness of Toni's holiday. 

She sat sipping her coffee and turning the pages rather listlessly. Somehow reading appealed to her less than ever nowadays. She was alwaysso fully occupied with her own miserable thoughts, that the imaginativewritings of other people could claim small share of her interest; butshe dipped into the magazines as she sat alone, and tried to forgetherself for an hour in the perusal of their pages. 

Among the papers was a copy of the _Daily Telegraph_, sent to Mrs. Moodyoccasionally by a sister in London; and Toni was idly turning the clumsysheets when a name she knew attracted her attention. 

She scanned the paragraph hurriedly a little pulse beating in her templeas she read. 

 "We learn on good authority that the famous portrait-painter Mr. James Herrick, better known as Mr. Herrick Vyse, has accepted a commission to paint the two beautiful daughters of Lord and Lady Tregarthen at their historic home in Cornwall. The young subjects, who are twins, are only nine years of age, but are ranked among the loveliest of England's many beautiful children, and doubtless the artist will do their childish beauty full justice. Mr. Herrick has already left his picturesque bungalow on the Thames for Tregarthen House, where he will be the guest of Lord and Lady Tregarthen during the painting of the portrait. "

The paper fell from Toni's hands and the light of a great inspirationflashed into her face. 

Lately she had longed, with ever-increasing intensity, for someauthentic news of Owen. She felt she would give all she had in the worldto hear that he was well, that her flight had not ruined his life; butshe had no means of finding out anything without running the risk ofgiving away the secret of her own hiding-place. 

She had sometimes thought of writing to Eva Herrick, binding her to thestrictest secrecy, and imploring her, for the sake of their oldfriendship, to give her the information she craved. But there were somany drawbacks to the plan. Her letter might easily fall into Herrick'shands, and though the contents would be sacred to him, the Italianpostmark would be enough to betray her whereabouts. 

But now, during Herrick's absence, she might surely risk sending Eva aletter. She felt pretty certain that Mrs. Herrick would not give awayher secret. By this time Toni was quite able to appreciate the part EvaHerrick had played in her unfortunate escapade; and she realised, veryplainly, that Eva's unhappy desire to ruin other lives as hers had beenruined, had been at the bottom of her eager sympathy and pretended help. 

Even now Eva would doubtless seek to prevent any real reconciliationbetween husband and wife; and in any case Toni felt that she must takethe risk; she must have news, hear how Owen had taken her flight; andsurely Eva would not refuse to answer her letter. 

She wrote it there and then. It was very short, only a few linesimploring the recipient to give her all news of Owen, while keeping thesecret of the writer's hiding place. Of herself Toni merely stated thatshe was at work and content; but the few scribbled lines breathed aspirit of misery, of supplication which would surely melt even thehardest heart. 

Having signed her name, and seen that the address at the top of thesheet was correct, Toni hastily procured an envelope, thrust in thefateful letter, and immediately slipped out of the house to post it. 

Up to this moment she had acted impulsively, without giving herself timeto think, with possibly a lurking fear at the back of her mind that ifshe stopped to consider she would tear up the letter instead of postingit. But when once it had left her hand, when she had heard the thud itmade in falling into the almost empty box, a great terror seized Toni, and she stood trembling in the deserted street, feeling that she wouldgive all she had to rescind her impetuous action. 

But doubts and misgivings were alike useless now. The letter had passedout of her keeping, and she must abide by her own deed, trustingfervently that no further misfortune would follow her precipitancy. 

Realizing at last that regrets were futile, Toni turned away and wenthome, there to spend a sleepless night torturing herself with all sortsof premonitions and visions of ill-luck. 

But in her wildest flights of imaginative terror over the receipt of herletter, and its consequences, Toni never approached the truth. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Toni's letter was delivered to Mrs. Herrick late one afternoon; and witha slight feeling of wonder as to her correspondent's identity, Eva brokethe seal languidly and took out the thin foreign sheet without the leastnotion that this letter was to her a veritable messenger of Fate. 

It did not take her long to read the few scrawled lines in which Toniproffered her desperate request; and when she had read them, Eva let thesheet flutter to the floor while she pondered on the strange chancewhich led the woman whose life she had helped to ruin to appeal to herfor aid. 

The months which had passed since Toni's flight had not been happy onesfor Eva Herrick. On hearing of the part she had played in theculminating catastrophe, her husband had felt at first that he couldbarely find it in his heart to forgive such deliberate treachery; andfor a short space of time even the malicious and reckless Eva knew whatit was to be afraid. She was afraid, not of Herrick's wrath, but of theconsequences. If, as at times she almost feared, he were to leave her, what would her position be? Already disgraced, discredited in the eyesof the world, she would find it impossible to face that world all alone, without the shelter of her husband's name; and although Toni's plightwas nothing to her, there were times when she almost wished she had leftthe girl alone and had not encouraged her to take the fatal step ofleaving her home. 

She picked up the flimsy sheet again and re-read the pitiful words. Theletter could be answered easily enough. If she replied truthfully, shewould relate a tragic history of a winter of lonely despair lived out inthe beautiful old house, which to its solitary owner was like a bodywithout a soul, a mere empty shell which had once held somethingprecious beyond all words. 

She could narrate of blank and heavy days, when Owen Rose shut himselfup in his library and refused to see a single fellow-creature save theservants who had known and loved his pretty young wife. Eva could havetold of the dismissal of the housekeeper, Mrs. Blades, whose longservice had seemed to her sufficient to warrant an impertinent strictureon Mrs. Rose's shameless conduct. She had learned her mistake veryquickly; and had gone forth lamenting the short-sighted folly which hadended her long and tyrannical reign at Greenriver. Further, Eva couldhave related how, when the papers were full of complimentary reviews ofOwen Rose's novel, the author himself turned away from all praise, fulsome and discriminating alike, and took up his pen only to write sucharticles as his position on the staff of the _Bridge_ renderednecessary. 

But as yet Eva did not know what form her reply would take. 

Warped, distorted, malignant as her judgment too often was, there wassomething very vital in that despairing cry from Italy; and in spite ofherself Eva could not banish its echo from her ears. 

She might answer, briefly, that Owen was still at Greenriver, and, sofar as she knew, in good health and spirits. As she framed the words shehad a mental vision of Owen as she had last seen him, thin, pale, haggard, with the fire of a restless despair burning in his blue eyes. Although he went out and about, and greeted his friends much as usual, no one could doubt that the whole man was consumed as by a devouringflame. He had been tortured with terrible neuralgic headaches allthrough the winter; but though the doctor urged him to try the effect ofa sojourn abroad, nothing would induce him to leave Greenriver. 

His tentative inquiries in Italy having proved futile, he clung to theidea that Toni was still in England; and the thought that she mightreturn to her home and find him gone was one which recurred to him likea nightmare whenever he took even the short journey up to town. 

"What shall I say, I wonder?" Eva sat gazing thoughtfully into the fire, while the Spring twilight fell over the river which glided so quietlypast her windows. "If I say she is forgotten it will almost break herheart; yet if I tell her that her husband is breaking _his_ heart tofind her, will she come to England instantly and humble herself till hetakes her back into his home?"

As she sat there Eva had a sudden vivid sense of the contrast betweenher own spoilt life and that of the girl whose pitiful cry still rang inher consciousness and would not be silenced. 

Her own life was ruined, she told herself bitterly. But in thatilluminating moment Eva saw the truth for the first time. She herselfwas to blame for the ruin. She had brought all the shame, all thedisgrace upon herself, and the bitter experience of her prison life hadbeen only the reaping of the harvest which she, by her own act, hadsown. 

But Toni's happiness had been broken and spoilt by other means. It washer very love for her husband which had made her so fatally ready tobelieve that only by leaving him could she give him the freedom which hewas supposed--by his wife--to desire. And Eva knew quite well thatwithout her connivance and encouragement Leonard Dowson would never havedared to utter his proposal to the young wife of Owen Rose. 

Yet if she gave in now and begged Toni to return, assuring her, as sheknew she might safely do, of her husband's ready forgiveness, would notthe spectacle of Toni's ensuing happiness bring all the more cruellyhome to her the wretchedness which must be her own portion fromhenceforth?

Although Jim Herrick treated her with unvarying kindness andconsideration, Eva had always the miserable conviction that his love forher was dead; and although she never showed any feeling in their dailyintercourse, even her bitter and reckless heart was sometimes sorewithin her. 

Long she sat, wondering how best to treat this unexpected appeal from afar country; and only when the trim maid who had replaced the morehaphazard Mrs. Swastika entered with the lighted lamp did Eva rouseherself from her reverie. 

Then, however, she got pen and paper and sat down at the table to framesome sort of reply. It was not an easy task. With Toni's letter lyingbefore her, she found it strangely difficult to begin; and was stillsitting staring at the blank sheet of paper when a sudden deep bark fromOlga, who was lying, as usual, nose on paws, in the tiny hall, made herstart to her feet. 

"Who's there, I wonder? Olga sounds excited. "

She went to the door and opened it, and at the same moment the frontdoor was flung widely open and a man stepped into the hall, to begreeted instantly by a torrent of wild barking from the now delightedBorzoi. 

"Steady, old girl! I say, Olga, don't take me for a wolf and tear me topieces!" He laughingly pushed the great dog down and hastened towardshis wife. 

"Hallo, Eva! Have I startled you? I'm sorry. "

"I didn't know who it was. " She stared at him with dilated eyes. "I wassitting in there, and Olga barked so loudly that I thought----"

"Thought I was a burglar!" He kissed her very kindly. "Well, I'm not. But I've come back for a bit . .. Yes, put them down there, will you?"

He turned to the door, his arm through his wife's, and paid the cabman, who had placed his portmanteaux in the hall. Then, when the man, declining a drink, had gone, Herrick drew his wife back into the littlesitting-room. 

"But--I don't understand. Is the portrait off? Aren't you going to paintthe children?"

"Yes, of course I am, but not for a bit. Fact is, the poor kiddies havestarted in measles, pretty badly, too, I'm told, so as it was impossibleto get on with the picture just yet I thought I'd better come home andlet their parents send for me when the children are out of quarantine. "

"I see. " Eva was half pleased, half annoyed by his return. "You wantsomething to eat, I expect. Shall I go and hurry up dinner?"

"I wish you would, dear. " He threw aside his coat as he spoke. "I hadsome lunch on the train, but you know what railway lunches are. I camedown from Waterloo with Rose. Jove, Eva, that fellow looks a wreck. "

"Does he?" Suddenly she remembered that Toni's letter was lying open onthe table. "I--I suppose he will get over--it--in time. "

"I don't think he will. Of course he must really have been devoted toher--to his wife--all the time, without knowing it. And I don't wonder. She was one of the best, pluckiest, straightest girls I ever met. Idon't believe she could have done a dishonourable action to save herlife. "

He had spoken quite without any ulterior meaning, carried away by hismemory of Toni as he had known and admired her; but his words sounded toEva like a direct and deadly insult; and her Irish blood flamedinstantly into revolt. 

"Toni straight!" All softer feelings were forgotten now; again she wasthe unhappy woman at war with all the world, but especially with her ownsex. "Very straight of her to elope with another man, wasn't it? And asfor pluck, why, she couldn't even stick to him when she'd done it. "

"Hush, Eva!" Herrick's brow wore the frown she hated, and, secretly, feared. "You were never fair to that unhappy girl; and both you and Iknow very well that had you acted differently half this misery wouldhave been spared. "

"I was unfair to her?" Eva's voice was choked with rage. 

"Yes. " He spoke deliberately, rather sadly. "From the first you treatedToni Rose, unfairly. You knew she was very young, and not very wise inthe ways of the world, and whereas you were an older woman--very littleolder in actual years, I grant you----"

"I suppose you mean older in wickedness. " She spoke between her teeth. 

"I mean you were old enough to have helped the child instead ofencouraging her in her foolishness, " he said steadily. "But you did not. You preferred to inflame her mind by exaggerating her woes, making herfeel herself misunderstood, unloved, unwanted . .. Oh, I don't know whatyou said, what passed between you, but this I do know. You saw thatchild shivering on the brink, as it were, of a dreadful precipice, andnot only did you refrain from pulling her back from the edge, but I'mhorribly afraid that yours was the hand which sought to push her over. "

"You dare to say this to me?" Her voice was like steel, and there was adangerous glint in the Irish eyes which had once been so sweet and gay. 

"Yes. Oh, I don't want to be hard on you, to bring it all up again. " Hespoke wearily. "I suppose it was the sight of that poor fellow Rose thatmade me speak like that just now. But you know, you have known allalong, that I hold you largely responsible for the whole affair, and ifany harm has come to that poor misguided girl, I'm afraid yourconscience can never be wholly clear. "

"Stop!" With flashing eyes and a stormy flush on her cheeks his wifefaced him; and even Herrick recoiled a step, aghast at the picture ofevil, revengeful triumph she presented in that moment. "You are blamingme for that affair, are you? Doubtless you and the bereft husband joinedupon your journey down in calling me all the pretty names which seem tofit me--evil genius, bad angel, and all the rest. Well, it may surpriseyou to learn that it is to me that the 'poor misguided child' turns evennow when she wants news of her loving husband. Oh, you may stare, but Iknow more than all of you. I know just where the misguided Toni is atthis moment, and what she is doing into the bargain. "

She had surprised him indeed. He sprang forward and seized her arm. 

"You know that? Then why in God's name haven't you said so before?"

"Because I've only just got to know, " she answered defiantly, "andbecause although I _do_ know, I'm not going to hand on myknowledge--now. "

"What do you mean?" Her vindictive tone made his blood run cold. 

"I had meant, when her letter came to-night, to show it to you, to letyou tell Mr. Rose. Wasn't I a fool?" She laughed scornfully. "Why onearth should I give away the precious information? You don't suppose Icare whether Toni ever sees her husband again? I hope she doesn't, infact. Other women are unhappy--they suffer--let her suffer, too, let herknow what it is to live in hell, to wish herself dead so that she may atleast forget her misery. "

"Eva!" His voice rang through the room. "You are going too far. Tell methis moment--where is Mrs. Rose?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" While she mocked him she was endeavouringto edge past him to reach the table on which Toni's letter still lay. Unconsciously he frustrated her, blocking the way in an attempt to forceher to speak plainly. 

"I intend to know. " His voice was as cold as ice. "Come, Eva, if pityfor the girl doesn't move you, think of the man. Why condemn him to thismental torture, when a word from you can set him free?"

Suddenly she paused before him; and to his dying day he would neverforget the hatred in her eyes. 

"Did you think of that, when a word from you would have set me free? Didyou utter the word which would have condemned you to prison but wouldhave let me go back to the world of sunshine and freedom? Did any of themen who sent me to that hell think of my torture, my agony? Why should Ithink of anyone else now? What does it matter to me if Owen Rose and hiswife die broken-hearted? Do you think I'd raise a finger to help them tofind one another? No. No, I tell you, a hundred, thousand times--_no_. "

Suddenly the man who listened was filled with a great and marvellouscompassion. Even now, it seemed, his wife could not see the justice ofher fate; but somehow her childish comparison of her own position withthat of Owen and Toni Rose seemed pitiful, tragic, rather than evil. 

"See here, dear. " He spoke very gently. "You are overwrought. You don'tknow what you are saying. I'm sure in your heart you only want to actkindly, nobly, by those two unfortunate people. Tell me, where is Mrs. Rose, and when--and how--has she communicated with you?"

"She wrote to me--I got her letter to-night. " There was a note oftriumph in her voice which made him uneasy. "And do you know what I'mgoing to do with it? I'm going to burn it--now--before your eyes. "

During her speech she had been edging nearer and nearer the table; andas she spoke the last words she made a frantic dart at the letter andenvelope which had lain there through all the conversation. Quick as shewas, however, she was almost too late. 

Suddenly awake to her meaning, Herrick had swung round in time to seeher seize the letter; and in an instant his hand was on her wrist. 

"Eva! What are you going to do?"

"This. " With a wild gesture she tore her hand from his; but again he wastoo quick for her. 

"Listen to me. " He spoke quickly, wild with anxiety lest she shouldcarry out her threat. "You are to give me that letter--at once. At once, do you hear? I don't want to hurt you, but I will have that letter, andyou had better give it to me of your own free will. "

"You shan't--you shan't. " She spoke gaspingly, using all her force togot away from him. Handicapped by his very superiority, Herrick did notventure to put forth his full strength, but Eva, held back by noscruples, fought desperately to release her hands that she might flingthe letter in the fire. 

Quite suddenly she found herself free. Herrick, his very soul sickenedwithin him at the physical encounter, had released her abruptly, trusting, perhaps, to some instinct of generosity which should lead herto surrender in the moment of victory. 

But he trusted vainly. The second she was free Eva flung herself on toher knees by the brightly-blazing fire; and as Herrick, maddened by heraction, bent roughly over her to try, even now, to save the preciousletter, she thrust her hand almost within the bars that the fire mightdestroy the writing the more completely. 

But her own haste was her undoing. The loose chiffon sleeve she worebrushed against the glowing coals as she pushed the letter franticallybetween the bars; and a bright tongue of flame shot suddenly up her armand ignited the masses of filmy lace which disguised the thinness of heronce softly-rounded bosom. 

There was a sharp cry from Herrick, a shriek of terror from Eva; andthen, as Herrick sprang aside to snatch up the heavy travelling-coatwhich would most effectually beat out the flames, Eva rushed frenziedlyto the door, screaming at the top of her voice. 

Again and again he tried to fling the coat round her burning form; butshe had completely lost her head, and several valuable seconds werewasted before he caught her finally and wrapped her completely round inthe thick, heavy folds of his big coat. 

Quite suddenly he felt her collapse in his grasp; and when, havingextinguished the flames, he unwrapped the coat from her slender figure, Herrick had a horrible conviction that he held a dead woman in hisarms. .. . 

She was still alive, however, though terribly burned about the arms andbody. For nearly a week she lay between life and death, a piteous littlefigure swathed in bandages. 

By some miraculous chance, although her golden curls were singed andblackened, her face had escaped injury, and as he sat by her side in thedarkened room, Herrick could trace in the pale and suffering featuresthe face of the bonny Irish girl who had won his heart so completely inthose far-off days of an Irish spring. 

For seven days she lay there, half-conscious at times, moaning piteouslyfor hours together, though for the most part under the mercifulinfluence of the morphia which lulled her agony; and in that terribleweek Herrick took up afresh the burden of his marriage and determinedthat if Eva recovered he would give up his whole life to her service. Hewould endeavour to win her back to a saner, sweeter frame of mind, tomake up to her by his unswerving patience and devotion for the miseryshe had endured; and he would relinquish, once for all, the hopelessmental attitude which had seemed to say that a life spent together mustbe impossible for both of them. 

After all, she was pathetically young and frail. She had sinned, but shehad paid, was paying now. Every feeble moan she uttered wrung his heartafresh; and he longed for her to regain consciousness that he mightwhisper words of love and encouragement into those fragile ears. 

He had almost forgotten the cause of the catastrophe. 

Toni's letter had been burned to ashes, and he had not the slightestidea of her whereabouts; but even Toni's welfare seemed of lessimportance during these days of torture; and beyond sending Owen a noteto inform him that his wife was certainly alive, since she had writtento her friend, Herrick had done nothing. 

It was quite possible that Eva would die without revealing Toni'ssecret; and even though she lived, what guarantee had Herrick that shewould unclose her lips even then?

Although, through her intense suffering, she had an irresistible claimupon his compassion, her husband did not feel certain that even were Evaherself again Toni's tragic blunder would be repaired; and although hewas fully determined to do all in his power to bring Eva's restlessspirit peace, there was a possibility that she would return to life ascallous, as heartless, as vindictive as ever. 

Yet as he looked at the wan little face on the pillow, he could notforbear a hope that this terrible disaster would mark a turning point inEva's life; and then, as a moan fluttered through the girl's parchedlips, he experienced a horrible fear that for Eva there would be no timefor repentance and reparation. 

It was nearly one o'clock on the seventh night when Herrick, watchingclosely, saw the grey Irish eyes open suddenly. 

He bent over the bed, and found that for the first time his wife wassufficiently herself to recognize him. 

"Jim? Is that you?" Her voice was the merest thread. 

"Yes, dear. Do you feel more comfortable now?"

"I feel . .. Dying, " she murmured, still in that thin whisper. "Jim . .. I'm so sorry. I've been a wicked girl--but you must forgive me, because I'm going to die. "

"No, no, dear. " His heart stirred within him at the startling change inher, and he slipped to his knees beside the bed. "You are going to getbetter and be my own dear little wife again. There is no need to talk offorgiveness, Eva. That's all over long ago. Now I have only to loveyou. "

"I'm glad you've forgiven me. " When she had spoken she closed her eyesagain; and Herrick felt himself turn cold, thinking she were dyingindeed. 

Presently she re-opened those sunken eyes, and her lips moved faintly. Bending down he caught her words. 

"Jim . .. I'm sorry about Toni. She's safe--in Italy--in Naples. .. . "

"You're sure, dear?" He spoke quietly, though his heart gave a throb ofrelief at her words. 

"Yes. I can't remember her address. " Her brows contracted pitifully. "But she works in the library of an Italian called Zanoni--is thatenough? Can you find her from that?"

"Why, yes, dear. " He knew it would only be a matter of time to trace thegirl now. "And you must not worry about her any more. Close those bigeyes of yours and go to sleep. "

She gave a little sigh, and her tiny bandaged hand lifted itself feeblyas though seeking his. Instantly he laid his own warm fingers over hers;and a moment later Eva was asleep. 

 * * * * *

So it happened that Eva did not die, but crept slowly back to life; andthroughout her painful and often halting convalescence she exhibited apatience, a gentleness which won her husband's heart afresh. 

It seemed as though the fire had burnt out all the evil thoughts anddesires which had ravaged her soul. Gone were all thoughts of revenge, of callous retribution for the sufferings she had endured. No longerbitter and hard and reckless, Eva was once again the engaging girl whohad won Herrick's love; and although it was probable she would neveragain be quite so light-hearted, so thoughtless as she had been in thedays before her marriage, Herrick was very strongly attracted to thisoddly gentle, shy, wistful girl who gave him a new and passionategratitude and love in place of her former half-careless, half-contemptuous affection. 

 * * * * *

Her first question on coming fully to herself had concerned Toni; andwithin a very short space of time Herrick was able to inform her thatthe girl had been found. 

"Is she well--happy? Is Mr. Rose going to forgive her?"

"He has done that already, " said Herrick with a smile. "By this time heis on his way to Italy; and I have no doubt he will bring her home toGreenriver as fast as boat and train can do it. "

"Must I see her, Jim?" Into her eyes came a look of dread which touchedhim oddly. "I know it was all through my wickedness that she wentaway--but--must I ask her to forgive me?"

"You needn't trouble about that, dear. Mrs. Rose has forgiven you longago. And as soon as ever you are well enough to travel, I'm going totake you right away where I can have you to myself and there will be noone to bother you all the rest of your life. "

"Where are we going?" Her weak voice sounded pitifully glad. 

"I'm not sure--but somewhere for away--Canada, or California, or somebig, wild country where we can ride about all day and imagine ourselvesback in dear old Ireland again. "

She sighed with pleasure; and two minutes later fell asleep with atender little smile upon her lips. 

CHAPTER XXIX

On a beautiful evening in June, when the land was sweet with roses, andthe cuckoos called insistently to one another from copse and wood, OwenRose brought his wife home, for the second time, to Greenriver. 

They had spent the intervening weeks in Italy; and to the end of herlife Toni would look upon those glorious Italian days as her truehoneymoon. 

Now, indeed, she and Owen were really lovers, meeting on an equal groundthrough the very force of their mutual love. Gone for ever were the olddoubts and misunderstandings, the miserable fooling of inferiority onToni's side, the half-unconscious irritation with which Owen had viewedwhat seemed to be his wife's limitations. 

No miracle had been worked. Toni and Owen both knew very well that inliterary matters Owen would always be superior to Toni; but now thatthey were one in ambition, one in feeling, one in heart and soul, thissuperiority mattered little. 

Now that she was no longer frightened, no longer felt herself despised, Toni could give her natural intelligence full play; and when once Owentook the trouble to study Toni closely, he thanked his gods that he haddiscovered her worth before it was too late. 

What he had taken for stupidity was only diffidence. Toni's brain, though not so highly specialized as his own, was a very capable, quickorgan all the same; and in the lonely, dreary months of her absence Owenhad learned to value at their true worth the precious gifts of laughterand sunny, unselfish gaiety which had once lightened the stately oldhouse. When Toni disappeared, it seemed as though a living sunbeam haddeserted the household; and when, on announcing the news of her safetyand ultimate return, he had seen the faces of the servants break intorelieved smiles, Owen had felt, with a twinge of shame, that even herdependants had valued Toni more than he, her husband, had known how todo. 

Always, too, the remembrance of the significance of Toni's sacrificewould keep Owen humble before her. He knew now, beyond all possibilityof doubt, that it had nearly broken her heart to leave him; and thoughher tragically childish notion of setting him free by eloping withLeonard Dowson often brought a tender, half-quizzical smile to his lips, Owen fully appreciated the love and eager longing which had driven Tonito that futile step. 

If Toni had found her soul, Owen too had gained something which hischaracter had hitherto lacked; and in his new humility and comprehensionthere was the germ, also, of a new content for both of them. 

 * * * * *

Toni caught her breath in a sob of rapture as the old house came intoview. 

Everyone about the place, servants, gardeners, chauffeur, had workedtheir hardest during the last excited weeks to bring the whole place tothe highest pitch of perfection; and to Toni's longing eyes thebeautiful old house, in its setting of tall trees, smooth green lawns, and brilliant, many-hued flowers, had never looked so eminentlyattractive, so alluringly home-like before. 

There were tears in her eyes as she sprang out of the car and greetedthe waiting Andrews, who stood beside the open door. In the backgroundKate and Maggie hovered, all smiles and blushes; and it was evident thatwhatever construction a censorious world might have put upon Toni's rashdeparture, these faithful souls, at least, believed no evil. 

As a matter of fact very little of the truth ever did leak out. When itwas known, as Herrick took good care it should be known, that Mr. Rosehad gone to Italy to join his wife, who was wintering there, and wouldreturn with her after a few weeks spent together by the shores of theMediterranean, gossip was at once checked and dumbfounded. 

If there had been anything wrong, said the neighbourhood, if Mrs. Rosehad left her husband secretly as had been asserted, surely the fact ofMr. Rose's going to Italy to join her would not have been given quite somuch publicity. 

Not only were there paragraphs in all the society papers--here Barry'shand was discernible--but there were even portraits of the rising youngauthor and his wife, taken together in the garden of their whitewashedvilla outside Naples; and it was decided, finally, that Mrs. Rose'shasty departure had been, after all, a good deal less mysterious than ithad at first appeared. 

There was some consolation, to the more determined gossips of theneighbourhood, in spreading a rumour that the young mistress ofGreenriver was far gone in consumption, and had been ordered to winterabroad; but Toni's appearance, on the day of her return, was quitesufficient to give the lie to that particular _canard_. 

Browned with the sun, her Southern colouring accentuated by the monthsspent in what was, after all, almost her native land, Toni looked thepicture of glowing, vivid health; and when, late that night, she facedher husband with sparkling eyes across the rose-decked table, Owenrealized, for the first time, that this quaint, half-foreign wife of hiswas giving promise of developing into actual beauty. 

 * * * * *

After dinner they strolled into the garden, Jock, deliriously happy, pressing closely to his mistress's side; and as they passed between thesleeping flowers Toni suddenly clung to her husband's arm. 

"Owen! Listen. The nightingale! Oh, isn't it perfect--that big yellowmoon--and the roses--and now--_that_. "

"Is it better than Italy, Toni? Wouldn't you rather be there--on a nightlike this--in that land of beauty and romance?"

For a moment Toni stood still, gazing round her in silence. She lookedat the old grey house, from which the mellow lamplight streamed, the TenLittle Ladies casting their beams bravely through the big windows of thegallery upstairs. She looked at the sleeping roses, the velvet lawns, the tall trees; and her eyes were very peaceful. The golden moonlighttransfigured the scene; from the dreaming river came the creak of oarsmoving gently in their rowlocks; and the nightingale's song was dyingsoftly, tenderly, on the quiet air. 

Slowly Toni's gaze came back to her husband's face; and in her eyes, velvety and black in the moonlight, Owen read her answer before shespoke. 

"Wherever you are is my land of beauty, " she said, in a low voice. "But . .. Oh, I am so glad, so glad you have brought me home--toGreenriver. "

And as he heard the words, saw, too, the loving little gesture whichaccompanied them as she slipped her hand into his arm, Owen felt thatfor them both Greenriver was home henceforth. 

He stooped and kissed her, quietly, on the white brow beneath the ebonyhair; end as if he had been waiting for the signal, the unseennightingale broke once more into song. 

THE END

 * * * * *

FAMOUS NOVELS BY KATHLYN RHODES

 THE LURE OF THE DESERT THE DESERT DREAMERS THE WILL OF ALLAH SWEET LIFE AFTERWARDS FLOWER OF GRASS THE MAKING OF A SOUL

Vivid descriptions of the entrancing scenery of the East, incidentcrowding upon incident, romantic situations, exciting intrigues, unexpected dénouements hold and absorb the interest from start tofinish. 

 KATHLYN RHODES is the assured success of 1918, as GERTRUDE PAGE was the success of 1916 and MABEL BARNES-GRUNDY of 1917. 

Fired with enthusiasm to win fame as a novelist, Kathlyn Rhodes beganher career before her school days were ended. "Sweet Life" followedshortly afterwards; and the appreciation which this won encouraged theauthoress to follow quickly with other stories. Choice of subject sheholds to be of primary importance. With the war depressing us allaround, she believes that many readers prefer stories that permit themfor the time to forget it; and this she achieves by her delightfulflights of fancy through the realms of many lands. 

These are the stories to send to your soldier friends to combat thehorrors of warfare and the tedium of the hospitals; and the stories toread yourself to relieve the weary vigils we must keep at home.