Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen.On the night of Peggy’s arrival in London, Eunice voluntarily made several remarks at the dinner-table; at breakfast next morning she took a distinct part in the conversation, and at lunch, meeting the roll of Peggy’s eyes, she laughed aloud, nor seemed the least alarmed at the unexpected sound. Some one else was startled, however, and that was no less a person than her father himself, who stared over his spectacles with an expression which Peggy found it difficult to understand, for it was both grave and glad, troubled and gratified. She wondered if he approved of this unusual liveliness on the part of his quiet daughter, but her doubts were put to rest before many hours were over. She had dressed early for the garden-party to which she was invited in the afternoon, and was wandering up and down the drawing-room, coaxing on her gloves, and examining the different pictures and photographs on the walls, when Mr Rollo entered the room, and stood regarding her earnestly.“I want to thank you, Miss Saville,” he began at once, “for the good you have done my daughter. You have been with us only a few hours, but already I can trace a most happy effect. I have not seen her so bright and happy for many a long day. It has often pressed on my mind that the child suffered for the want of a companion of her own age, but it was difficult to find a remedy. Now, if by chance you were one of half-a-dozen daughters, we might have borrowed you from your parents, and kept you with us most of the year, but as it is, you are a ewe lamb, and I suppose no possible bribe—”“Oh no! my price is above rubies!” cried Peggy, laughing; “but, Mr Rollo, I shall be delighted to visit Eunice from time to time, and I want her to come to me in return. I think we are going to be friends; I hope so, at least, for I have taken a desperate fancy to her, and I am rarely attracted by strangers!”“She is a dear child, a good, unselfish child; but, alas, she has never been young! She needs rousing, and I think,” said Mr Rollo, smiling, “I think you are the person to rouse her! I hope that you will see a great deal of each other in the future, in which case I shall owe a still larger debt of gratitude to your family than I do at present. I realise my good fortune every day in having your brother’s services at my command, for he is worth all the secretaries I have had before rolled into one.”“Ah–h!” cried Peggy, glowing with delight. “Of course! I knew he would be. Whatever Arthur does, he does better than anybody else. He will be a great man yet, won’t he? Oh, do say he will! It was such a terrible disappointment for me when he had to give up the Army, and my only consolation has been the belief that he would distinguish himself in some other sphere. You do really believe that Arthur will be great before he dies, don’t you, Mr Rollo?”The grave man smiled down very kindly into the eager, young face.“It is not always the best men who make the greatest mark in the world, and ‘greatest,’ as you mean it, has many drawbacks, my dear. I should like to advise you not to set your heart on worldly distinctions, but I suppose if I did, you would put me down as a prosy old fellow, who did not practise what he preached, so I’ll make you happy instead, by telling you that I also expect great things of your brother. He is one of the most brilliant young men of his day, and some time soon we will send him into the House, and give him a chance there. I don’t wonder you are proud of him. I should have been proud indeed, if Providence had seen fit to grant me such a son!”The sigh with which the sentence ended gave a clue to the bitterest disappointment of this man’s life. It was an abiding regret that he had no son to follow in his footsteps, and to carry on the good old name; but he never suspected that his quiet little daughter had divined his disappointment at her sex, and that the consciousness thereof had been one powerful factor in damping her spirits. To know that we are a disappointment to our friends has a paralysing effect on our energies, and there are many people in the world who have failed simply from want of encouragement and appreciation. A word of honest praise is as good as a tonic, and it is too rarely spoken. We feel it our duty to find fault where blame is merited, but are not nearly so careful to acknowledge work well done, or to show our gratitude for services willingly performed.Mr and Mrs Rollo loved their daughter dearly, but were too much engrossed in their different pursuits to pay her much attention, and believed that, being of a naturally reserved disposition, she would not value outward demonstrations; wherein they erred, for it is the dumb, silent folk who most appreciate warm-hearted words and actions. What a much brighter world it would be if we were more generous in this respect; how happy we might make our friends, if we gave them the benefit of our loving thoughts, instead of locking them tightly in our own breasts!Eunice opened like a flower beneath the sunny influence of Peggy’s presence, and drove off to the garden-party with an animation most unusual under the circumstances. Garden-parties were, as a rule, unmitigated bores, but this one would be an exception! Peggy would be there, and where Peggy moved fun and brightness followed in her footsteps; and Arthur had been despatched by Mr Rollo to take his place in escorting the ladies. Eunice was persuaded that no man in the world was nobler than her father, but, socially speaking, he had his defects! It was a little trying to go about with a man who spent his time discussing politics with other old gentlemen, forgetting all about the poor, shy little daughter, who languished in a corner, shivering with cold, or grilling with heat, as the case might be, and striving, oh, so vainly I to look as if she were enjoying herself. Nor was Mrs Rollo a great improvement on her husband, for she also was weighed down with the responsibilities of Guilds, Causes, and Charities, and invariably found a fellow-member of committee with whom to discuss knotty problems. This afternoon, as Eunice sat facing her mother in the carriage, she could see the nervous fingers pull at the ends of the gloves, and the lips move in mechanical rehearsal of her next address, but the sight gave her none of the usual forebodings, for this afternoon, at least, she need not dread desertion. Arthur and Peggy would be her companions, and never a word of politics or guilds need they speak, from the time they arrived until the time they came away! Eunice rambled about the beautiful grounds with the glee of a child escaped from school, and played the part of appreciative audience with an enthusiasm which could not fail to be inspiring to her companions.Arthur looked into the smiling face, and listened to the low sweet laughter with the incredulous amazement of one who has suddenly received his sight after a spell of blindness. “Bat,” indeed, Peggy had rightly named him, since he had lived for months in the same house as this delightful creature, and never realised her charm. When they were resting together on a garden bench under the shade of a tree, Arthur cast surreptitious glances at Eunice, and formed a new estimate of her attractions to take the place of the old. He understood little about dress, but he instinctively felt that the white frock was remarkably simple for the only child of such distinguished parents, and the simplicity was in accord with the pale, well-cut face whose chief characteristics were modesty and sweetness. A little white-gloved hand lay on her lap, and, as Arthur looked at it, a swift remembrance arose of the afternoon a few weeks back when he had seen that hand stretched out to comfort a companion in distress. His lip twitched beneath his moustache and his smile faded.“Ah, well,” he said to himself sadly, “we cannot all be alike; but it does one good to see her—dear, little, gentle thing! She’ll make some one very happy some day, and he will think her beautiful, for he will see his home in her eyes.”He went off into a day-dream of his own, a troubled day-dream, poor fellow, as his day-dreams were apt to be at this time of his life; but his companions did not notice his adsorption, for one was listening rapturously, while the other entertained her with imaginary conversations supposed to take place between different members of the crowd by which they were surrounded. That she could hear no word of what was being said, was but an added stimulus to Miss Peggy’s inventive genius, and so aptly did her dialogues follow the expressions and gestures of the strangers that Eunice shook from head to foot in irrepressible enjoyment.“Goodness, Clementina, here’s that impossible Mrs Jones! I thought we had avoided her so successfully.Mustspeak now, I suppose. There’s no way of dodging her. ‘DearMrs Jones, howdoyou do? Suchagessince we met. Is this your daughter? Grown out of knowledge! It seems but the othah day she was a little girl in short frocks. Quite impossible, don’t you know, to associateyouwith a grown-up daughter! Sorry to hurry on, but really—somanyfriends!’ Oh, there’s Lord Algernon Fitznobody coming down that path! Don’t let him pass! Waggle your parasol, Clementina! Cough! Sneeze! Do something to make him see us! ‘Don’t you remember me, Lord Algernon? How quite too naughty of you! Mrs Ponsonby de Tomkins, whose purse you picked up in the railway station in Lausanne. I have heard so much of you since then, for my sister’s aunt’s cousin’s husband is quite an intimate friend of dear Lady Fitzroy—’ Well, really, Clementina, he need not have rushed away in such a hurry! He seemed very distrait. He was looking round for somebody else all the time. Now, see, he is hurrying off to meet her.Ah–h!”The deep exclamation of understanding was uttered in the speaker’s natural voice, as, following the direction of the good lady’s glance, Peggy suddenly divined the reason of “Lord Algernon’s” pre-occupation. Rosalind Darcy was approaching, surrounded by the usual bevy of admirers, her parasol tilted over her shoulder, and her lips curved into a smile of artificial sweetness. It was easy to see that her affectation of interest in what was being said was of the thinnest possible description and Peggy wondered what could be the reason of her ill-humour, but only for a moment, for presently Rosalind’s eyes wandered to the bench under the trees, and in a flash the sunshine came back into her face.“She was looking for Arthur! She thought he was not here!” Arthur’s sister said jealously to herself; and the next moment Rosalind was hurrying towards them, leaving the discarded admirers to digest their rebuff as best they might. Nothing could have been sweeter or more winsome than her greeting of her friends, but Arthur responded to her advances with a coldness which astonished his companions. They had not been present the night before, when Miss Darcy had found it convenient to ignore his presence, and to forget a promise given to him because a more distinguished partner had appeared on the scene. Arthur’s pride in himself was by no means of the overweening description affected by his small sister, but he had too much self-respect to accept a smile one day at the expense of a snub the next, and Rosalind was given to playing fast and loose with her friends. It was true, she invariably repented herself of her rudeness, and endeavoured to make a gracious atonement, but it was becoming more and more difficult to appease Arthur’s wounded dignity, and to-day she felt an unaccustomed thrill of nervousness at the sight of his grave, stern face.“Arthur, come and walk wound with me!” she commanded with an unaccustomed note of timidity mingling with the imperious young voice. “I want to talk to you. Those widiculous men have been boring me to distwaction, and I want to hear about Yew Hedge. Take me into the wose garden, and tell me all about Yew Hedge.”“Peggy can do that better than I, Rosalind. I have been down only for a few hours. We will all walk round together, and Peggy can give you the interesting details.”He stepped to Eunice Rollo’s side as he spoke, and, addressing a remark so pointedly to her that it could not be answered by another, led the way forward in the direction indicated. Rosalind could have borne the rebuff more complacently if he had followed in the rear, when she could have played off her little airs and graces for his benefit, but to choose another girl before herself, and then to walk on ahead, without even troubling himself to see if she followed—this was too much for her composure. Her face clouded over, and though she made a valiant effort to preserve her composure, it was in vain, and she was glad to find an outlet for her irritation in pettish complainings.“How I do detest garden-parties! Of all the senseless, dead-alive entertainments they are the worst. Evewy fwesh one is worse than the last.”“Why don’t you stay away, then? The remedy is in your own hands,” retorted Peggy coolly; but at this Rosalind’s ill-humour broke out in another direction.“Peggy Saville, I think it is vewy mean and unkind of you to wefuse to visit me when I asked you, and then to wush up from the countwee to stay with new fwiends who have not half the claim upon you that I have. If you would go to the Wollos’, why not to me?”“Because you did not ask me at the same time. A month ago it was impossible for me to get away, and even now I am here for three days only. I don’t wish to appear unfriendly, Rosalind, but—”“But you feel it,” replied Rosalind, her voice changing suddenly into a note of honest pathos. “Oh yes, Mawiquita, you are no better at pwetending than you used to be, and I know quite well that you don’t appwove of me. I hate myself too, and twy to be diffewent, but it is no use, circumstances are too stwong for me. But it’s not the way to make me better, Peggy Saville, to toss your head at me, and tweat me as if I were beyond all hope of reformation.”“Rosalind—oh!” Peggy was breathless with consternation. It was a horrible accusation, and the worst of it was that conscience told her that it was true. She stared with penitent eyes into the accusing face, nodded her head once or twice, and said with conviction:“I’m a little wretch! Who am I, I should like to know, to judge another girl? Dear old Rosalind, snub me all you can, and take no notice of my airs. I’m not good enough to help you, I’m afraid, but I can’t help loving you, you dear, beautiful thing, and wishing to make you happy!”“But, oh, Peggy, I’m misewable! I’m abjectly misewable!” sighed Rosalind in return. She gave a glance around, to make sure no one was within ear-shot, and then continued rapidly, “All my life long I’ve been bwought up to look forward to this time, and to work and plan and pwepare for it. Mother talked as if it would repay me for all my pains, but I’ve been out thwee seasons now, and I’m tired to death of the everlasting wound. I get so cross and irritated and weary of it all. I don’t think I have ever been so misewable in my life as duwing the last year!”Peggy looked at her thoughtfully. At the moment Rosalind looked dismal enough, but recalling the occasions when she had seen her in society, Peggy could not honestly say that “wretched” was the word which best described her demeanour. On the contrary, a most well-satisfied and complacent young woman had she appeared, and Miss Peggy shrewdly suspected that the present distaste was but a transient emotion.“If you are so tired of it, why don’t you go down to the country, or join your mother abroad?” she inquired with a stern directness which her companion found somewhat embarrassing.She shrugged her shoulders and gave a little impatient laugh.“Because I should like thatworse! I am bored to distwaction in the countwy, and poor dear mother would worry herself to death if I left town just now. She is as ambitious as ever, and will be tewwibly disappointed if I don’t make a bewilliant match before the end of the season. She is expecting the news of my engagement by evewy letter, and is working herself up to a fever of anxiety as the time goes by—”“And is there—is there some one in particular whom she expects you to marry?” queried Peggy calmly. Her heart had given a throb of nervousness at the introduction of the subject, and she had instinctively lifted her eyes to glance at the handsome figure a few yards ahead, but her pride would not allow her to show her discomfiture. No one would have suspected that a personal interest lay behind the nonchalant question.“Oh, of course there are sevewal!” admitted Rosalind naïvely, “but just now there is a Special Somebody! Title, estate, family, diamonds, all complete, just the vewypartimother had hoped for ever since I was born. He has spoken to father alweady, and is going to pwopose to me the first opportunity he gets. I know it quite well. Don’t you always know, Peggy, when they are twying to speak out?”“Always!” repeated Peggy, with a little gasp of dismay. “That’s too wholesale a word for me, Rosalind! The only experience of the kind I have had happened in India, and I was entirely unprepared, for, as a matter of fact, I cherished a profound aversion for the victim! I didn’t dislike him afterwards, though! I was so grieved for the poor fellow’s distress, so grateful to him for liking me so much, that I felt quite tenderly towards him. It was the most unpleasant experience I have ever had, and I want only one more proposal—one to which I can say, ‘Yes, please!’ and settle down in peace and comfort. Do you care enough for thepartito be able to say, ‘Yes, please!’ to him, Rosalind?”“I don’t dislike him. He is good-looking, and not nearly so stupid as many of the men one meets. Sometimes I think I could get on with him reasonably well, but at other times I can’t—I weallycan’tface it! Then I keep out of his way, and am cold and weserved, and twy to put it off a little longer. But it will come, I know it will! I shall have to face it soon, and I feel as I used to do when I was a child and had a visit to the dentist before me. I twy to forget it, and be happy, but evewy now and then the wemembwance comes back like a sudden pain, and catches my bweath. Oh, Peggy, isn’t it difficult—isn’t it twying? Aren’t you sowwy for me?”“No!” said Peggy Saville stoutly. “Not a mite!” She lifted her head and looked the other squarely in the face. Her eyes were astonishingly bright, and there was a patch of colour on each cheek. “Pray, whyshouldI be sorry? If you look upon the question as a pure matter of business, I cannot see that you deserve any sympathy. I am sorry forhim! He seems to be an extremely good bargain, and it is hard on him to be regarded in the light of a disagreeable necessity. I suppose he is devoted to you, and hopes, poor wretch! that you are going to accept him for himself. For youwillaccept him, Rosalind! That’s certain. You may imagine that you have not made up your mind, but you have! You could never have the courage to give up all those good things. Why should you, indeed? They mean more to you than anything else. You would never feel any temptation to love a man who was not rich!”Peggy spoke in crisp, stinging little sentences, her distress on her brother’s account goading her into unusual bitterness; but she was entirely unprepared for the result of her words, stricken dumb by the sight of Rosalind’s pale glance of reproach, the sudden rush of tears to the eyes. Broken words struggled for utterance, but she could only distinguish, “Unjust! Untwue!” before, as Fate would have it, the couple in front wheeled round, and came back to join them.“I wanted to know which way you would prefer to take—” began Arthur, and then stopped short, horrified at what he beheld. Something that Peggy had said had touched Rosalind on a tender point, for having once broken down, she found it impossible to control her distress, and though she had lowered her parasol so as to form a shield between herself and the passers-by, she made no attempt to hide from Arthur, but stood gazing at him like a lovely, distressed child, with lips a-quiver, and eyes all drowned in tears. He seized her hand with an impulsive gesture, and questioned her rapidly as to the cause of her distress. His voice vibrated with tenderness, and Rosalind clutched his arm with nervous fingers, and stammered pitiful explanations.“Peggy—oh, so cruel! So unkind! I asked her advice, and she said—she said—such cruel things!”Arthur cast one glance at his sister, and then appeared unconscious of her presence. A group of visitors was approaching, and his great desire was to take Rosalind into some quiet corner of the grounds, where she could have an opportunity of recovering her self-possession without being observed by curious eyes.“Come with me!” he said gently. “Come down this path to the end of the shrubbery. If you are in trouble, can’t I help you, Rosie? Won’t you let me try?”They disappeared from sight, and Peggy walked on in the opposite direction, her face white and set. The iron had entered into her soul, for oh, that glance—that glance of cold anger and reproach! Could it indeed have come from Arthur—Arthur, who never looked at her in anger before—Arthur, between whom and herself there had never hovered a shadow of a cloud in all their happy, loving lives? A stranger had complained of her, and he had accepted the complaint without giving her an opportunity of justifying herself! Another girl in Peggy’s position might have blamed Arthur in return, and regarded herself as a martyr, but that was not Peggy’s way. Far harder to bear than her own smart would have been the necessity of admitting a flaw in her idol. Her one desire was to justify Arthur, and place him beyond the reach of blame. Before she had taken twenty steps forward, she was saying brokenly to herself:“Yes, I deserved it! It is easy to be sharp, and say cutting things at another person’s expense. I had the chance of speaking kindly, and of helping her to a better decision, but I let it go, and gave her a sneer instead. I deserved it, Arthur dear! Ididdeserve it, but oh! you must forgive me soon. It’s like red-hot knives sticking into my heart to think that you are angry with me!”But Arthur was not thinking about Peggy. He was standing beside Rosalind at the end of the shrubbery, his eyes shining, his face beautified by a great tenderness.“Now, Rosie!” he cried, “now! Tell me all about it!”

On the night of Peggy’s arrival in London, Eunice voluntarily made several remarks at the dinner-table; at breakfast next morning she took a distinct part in the conversation, and at lunch, meeting the roll of Peggy’s eyes, she laughed aloud, nor seemed the least alarmed at the unexpected sound. Some one else was startled, however, and that was no less a person than her father himself, who stared over his spectacles with an expression which Peggy found it difficult to understand, for it was both grave and glad, troubled and gratified. She wondered if he approved of this unusual liveliness on the part of his quiet daughter, but her doubts were put to rest before many hours were over. She had dressed early for the garden-party to which she was invited in the afternoon, and was wandering up and down the drawing-room, coaxing on her gloves, and examining the different pictures and photographs on the walls, when Mr Rollo entered the room, and stood regarding her earnestly.

“I want to thank you, Miss Saville,” he began at once, “for the good you have done my daughter. You have been with us only a few hours, but already I can trace a most happy effect. I have not seen her so bright and happy for many a long day. It has often pressed on my mind that the child suffered for the want of a companion of her own age, but it was difficult to find a remedy. Now, if by chance you were one of half-a-dozen daughters, we might have borrowed you from your parents, and kept you with us most of the year, but as it is, you are a ewe lamb, and I suppose no possible bribe—”

“Oh no! my price is above rubies!” cried Peggy, laughing; “but, Mr Rollo, I shall be delighted to visit Eunice from time to time, and I want her to come to me in return. I think we are going to be friends; I hope so, at least, for I have taken a desperate fancy to her, and I am rarely attracted by strangers!”

“She is a dear child, a good, unselfish child; but, alas, she has never been young! She needs rousing, and I think,” said Mr Rollo, smiling, “I think you are the person to rouse her! I hope that you will see a great deal of each other in the future, in which case I shall owe a still larger debt of gratitude to your family than I do at present. I realise my good fortune every day in having your brother’s services at my command, for he is worth all the secretaries I have had before rolled into one.”

“Ah–h!” cried Peggy, glowing with delight. “Of course! I knew he would be. Whatever Arthur does, he does better than anybody else. He will be a great man yet, won’t he? Oh, do say he will! It was such a terrible disappointment for me when he had to give up the Army, and my only consolation has been the belief that he would distinguish himself in some other sphere. You do really believe that Arthur will be great before he dies, don’t you, Mr Rollo?”

The grave man smiled down very kindly into the eager, young face.

“It is not always the best men who make the greatest mark in the world, and ‘greatest,’ as you mean it, has many drawbacks, my dear. I should like to advise you not to set your heart on worldly distinctions, but I suppose if I did, you would put me down as a prosy old fellow, who did not practise what he preached, so I’ll make you happy instead, by telling you that I also expect great things of your brother. He is one of the most brilliant young men of his day, and some time soon we will send him into the House, and give him a chance there. I don’t wonder you are proud of him. I should have been proud indeed, if Providence had seen fit to grant me such a son!”

The sigh with which the sentence ended gave a clue to the bitterest disappointment of this man’s life. It was an abiding regret that he had no son to follow in his footsteps, and to carry on the good old name; but he never suspected that his quiet little daughter had divined his disappointment at her sex, and that the consciousness thereof had been one powerful factor in damping her spirits. To know that we are a disappointment to our friends has a paralysing effect on our energies, and there are many people in the world who have failed simply from want of encouragement and appreciation. A word of honest praise is as good as a tonic, and it is too rarely spoken. We feel it our duty to find fault where blame is merited, but are not nearly so careful to acknowledge work well done, or to show our gratitude for services willingly performed.

Mr and Mrs Rollo loved their daughter dearly, but were too much engrossed in their different pursuits to pay her much attention, and believed that, being of a naturally reserved disposition, she would not value outward demonstrations; wherein they erred, for it is the dumb, silent folk who most appreciate warm-hearted words and actions. What a much brighter world it would be if we were more generous in this respect; how happy we might make our friends, if we gave them the benefit of our loving thoughts, instead of locking them tightly in our own breasts!

Eunice opened like a flower beneath the sunny influence of Peggy’s presence, and drove off to the garden-party with an animation most unusual under the circumstances. Garden-parties were, as a rule, unmitigated bores, but this one would be an exception! Peggy would be there, and where Peggy moved fun and brightness followed in her footsteps; and Arthur had been despatched by Mr Rollo to take his place in escorting the ladies. Eunice was persuaded that no man in the world was nobler than her father, but, socially speaking, he had his defects! It was a little trying to go about with a man who spent his time discussing politics with other old gentlemen, forgetting all about the poor, shy little daughter, who languished in a corner, shivering with cold, or grilling with heat, as the case might be, and striving, oh, so vainly I to look as if she were enjoying herself. Nor was Mrs Rollo a great improvement on her husband, for she also was weighed down with the responsibilities of Guilds, Causes, and Charities, and invariably found a fellow-member of committee with whom to discuss knotty problems. This afternoon, as Eunice sat facing her mother in the carriage, she could see the nervous fingers pull at the ends of the gloves, and the lips move in mechanical rehearsal of her next address, but the sight gave her none of the usual forebodings, for this afternoon, at least, she need not dread desertion. Arthur and Peggy would be her companions, and never a word of politics or guilds need they speak, from the time they arrived until the time they came away! Eunice rambled about the beautiful grounds with the glee of a child escaped from school, and played the part of appreciative audience with an enthusiasm which could not fail to be inspiring to her companions.

Arthur looked into the smiling face, and listened to the low sweet laughter with the incredulous amazement of one who has suddenly received his sight after a spell of blindness. “Bat,” indeed, Peggy had rightly named him, since he had lived for months in the same house as this delightful creature, and never realised her charm. When they were resting together on a garden bench under the shade of a tree, Arthur cast surreptitious glances at Eunice, and formed a new estimate of her attractions to take the place of the old. He understood little about dress, but he instinctively felt that the white frock was remarkably simple for the only child of such distinguished parents, and the simplicity was in accord with the pale, well-cut face whose chief characteristics were modesty and sweetness. A little white-gloved hand lay on her lap, and, as Arthur looked at it, a swift remembrance arose of the afternoon a few weeks back when he had seen that hand stretched out to comfort a companion in distress. His lip twitched beneath his moustache and his smile faded.

“Ah, well,” he said to himself sadly, “we cannot all be alike; but it does one good to see her—dear, little, gentle thing! She’ll make some one very happy some day, and he will think her beautiful, for he will see his home in her eyes.”

He went off into a day-dream of his own, a troubled day-dream, poor fellow, as his day-dreams were apt to be at this time of his life; but his companions did not notice his adsorption, for one was listening rapturously, while the other entertained her with imaginary conversations supposed to take place between different members of the crowd by which they were surrounded. That she could hear no word of what was being said, was but an added stimulus to Miss Peggy’s inventive genius, and so aptly did her dialogues follow the expressions and gestures of the strangers that Eunice shook from head to foot in irrepressible enjoyment.

“Goodness, Clementina, here’s that impossible Mrs Jones! I thought we had avoided her so successfully.Mustspeak now, I suppose. There’s no way of dodging her. ‘DearMrs Jones, howdoyou do? Suchagessince we met. Is this your daughter? Grown out of knowledge! It seems but the othah day she was a little girl in short frocks. Quite impossible, don’t you know, to associateyouwith a grown-up daughter! Sorry to hurry on, but really—somanyfriends!’ Oh, there’s Lord Algernon Fitznobody coming down that path! Don’t let him pass! Waggle your parasol, Clementina! Cough! Sneeze! Do something to make him see us! ‘Don’t you remember me, Lord Algernon? How quite too naughty of you! Mrs Ponsonby de Tomkins, whose purse you picked up in the railway station in Lausanne. I have heard so much of you since then, for my sister’s aunt’s cousin’s husband is quite an intimate friend of dear Lady Fitzroy—’ Well, really, Clementina, he need not have rushed away in such a hurry! He seemed very distrait. He was looking round for somebody else all the time. Now, see, he is hurrying off to meet her.Ah–h!”

The deep exclamation of understanding was uttered in the speaker’s natural voice, as, following the direction of the good lady’s glance, Peggy suddenly divined the reason of “Lord Algernon’s” pre-occupation. Rosalind Darcy was approaching, surrounded by the usual bevy of admirers, her parasol tilted over her shoulder, and her lips curved into a smile of artificial sweetness. It was easy to see that her affectation of interest in what was being said was of the thinnest possible description and Peggy wondered what could be the reason of her ill-humour, but only for a moment, for presently Rosalind’s eyes wandered to the bench under the trees, and in a flash the sunshine came back into her face.

“She was looking for Arthur! She thought he was not here!” Arthur’s sister said jealously to herself; and the next moment Rosalind was hurrying towards them, leaving the discarded admirers to digest their rebuff as best they might. Nothing could have been sweeter or more winsome than her greeting of her friends, but Arthur responded to her advances with a coldness which astonished his companions. They had not been present the night before, when Miss Darcy had found it convenient to ignore his presence, and to forget a promise given to him because a more distinguished partner had appeared on the scene. Arthur’s pride in himself was by no means of the overweening description affected by his small sister, but he had too much self-respect to accept a smile one day at the expense of a snub the next, and Rosalind was given to playing fast and loose with her friends. It was true, she invariably repented herself of her rudeness, and endeavoured to make a gracious atonement, but it was becoming more and more difficult to appease Arthur’s wounded dignity, and to-day she felt an unaccustomed thrill of nervousness at the sight of his grave, stern face.

“Arthur, come and walk wound with me!” she commanded with an unaccustomed note of timidity mingling with the imperious young voice. “I want to talk to you. Those widiculous men have been boring me to distwaction, and I want to hear about Yew Hedge. Take me into the wose garden, and tell me all about Yew Hedge.”

“Peggy can do that better than I, Rosalind. I have been down only for a few hours. We will all walk round together, and Peggy can give you the interesting details.”

He stepped to Eunice Rollo’s side as he spoke, and, addressing a remark so pointedly to her that it could not be answered by another, led the way forward in the direction indicated. Rosalind could have borne the rebuff more complacently if he had followed in the rear, when she could have played off her little airs and graces for his benefit, but to choose another girl before herself, and then to walk on ahead, without even troubling himself to see if she followed—this was too much for her composure. Her face clouded over, and though she made a valiant effort to preserve her composure, it was in vain, and she was glad to find an outlet for her irritation in pettish complainings.

“How I do detest garden-parties! Of all the senseless, dead-alive entertainments they are the worst. Evewy fwesh one is worse than the last.”

“Why don’t you stay away, then? The remedy is in your own hands,” retorted Peggy coolly; but at this Rosalind’s ill-humour broke out in another direction.

“Peggy Saville, I think it is vewy mean and unkind of you to wefuse to visit me when I asked you, and then to wush up from the countwee to stay with new fwiends who have not half the claim upon you that I have. If you would go to the Wollos’, why not to me?”

“Because you did not ask me at the same time. A month ago it was impossible for me to get away, and even now I am here for three days only. I don’t wish to appear unfriendly, Rosalind, but—”

“But you feel it,” replied Rosalind, her voice changing suddenly into a note of honest pathos. “Oh yes, Mawiquita, you are no better at pwetending than you used to be, and I know quite well that you don’t appwove of me. I hate myself too, and twy to be diffewent, but it is no use, circumstances are too stwong for me. But it’s not the way to make me better, Peggy Saville, to toss your head at me, and tweat me as if I were beyond all hope of reformation.”

“Rosalind—oh!” Peggy was breathless with consternation. It was a horrible accusation, and the worst of it was that conscience told her that it was true. She stared with penitent eyes into the accusing face, nodded her head once or twice, and said with conviction:

“I’m a little wretch! Who am I, I should like to know, to judge another girl? Dear old Rosalind, snub me all you can, and take no notice of my airs. I’m not good enough to help you, I’m afraid, but I can’t help loving you, you dear, beautiful thing, and wishing to make you happy!”

“But, oh, Peggy, I’m misewable! I’m abjectly misewable!” sighed Rosalind in return. She gave a glance around, to make sure no one was within ear-shot, and then continued rapidly, “All my life long I’ve been bwought up to look forward to this time, and to work and plan and pwepare for it. Mother talked as if it would repay me for all my pains, but I’ve been out thwee seasons now, and I’m tired to death of the everlasting wound. I get so cross and irritated and weary of it all. I don’t think I have ever been so misewable in my life as duwing the last year!”

Peggy looked at her thoughtfully. At the moment Rosalind looked dismal enough, but recalling the occasions when she had seen her in society, Peggy could not honestly say that “wretched” was the word which best described her demeanour. On the contrary, a most well-satisfied and complacent young woman had she appeared, and Miss Peggy shrewdly suspected that the present distaste was but a transient emotion.

“If you are so tired of it, why don’t you go down to the country, or join your mother abroad?” she inquired with a stern directness which her companion found somewhat embarrassing.

She shrugged her shoulders and gave a little impatient laugh.

“Because I should like thatworse! I am bored to distwaction in the countwy, and poor dear mother would worry herself to death if I left town just now. She is as ambitious as ever, and will be tewwibly disappointed if I don’t make a bewilliant match before the end of the season. She is expecting the news of my engagement by evewy letter, and is working herself up to a fever of anxiety as the time goes by—”

“And is there—is there some one in particular whom she expects you to marry?” queried Peggy calmly. Her heart had given a throb of nervousness at the introduction of the subject, and she had instinctively lifted her eyes to glance at the handsome figure a few yards ahead, but her pride would not allow her to show her discomfiture. No one would have suspected that a personal interest lay behind the nonchalant question.

“Oh, of course there are sevewal!” admitted Rosalind naïvely, “but just now there is a Special Somebody! Title, estate, family, diamonds, all complete, just the vewypartimother had hoped for ever since I was born. He has spoken to father alweady, and is going to pwopose to me the first opportunity he gets. I know it quite well. Don’t you always know, Peggy, when they are twying to speak out?”

“Always!” repeated Peggy, with a little gasp of dismay. “That’s too wholesale a word for me, Rosalind! The only experience of the kind I have had happened in India, and I was entirely unprepared, for, as a matter of fact, I cherished a profound aversion for the victim! I didn’t dislike him afterwards, though! I was so grieved for the poor fellow’s distress, so grateful to him for liking me so much, that I felt quite tenderly towards him. It was the most unpleasant experience I have ever had, and I want only one more proposal—one to which I can say, ‘Yes, please!’ and settle down in peace and comfort. Do you care enough for thepartito be able to say, ‘Yes, please!’ to him, Rosalind?”

“I don’t dislike him. He is good-looking, and not nearly so stupid as many of the men one meets. Sometimes I think I could get on with him reasonably well, but at other times I can’t—I weallycan’tface it! Then I keep out of his way, and am cold and weserved, and twy to put it off a little longer. But it will come, I know it will! I shall have to face it soon, and I feel as I used to do when I was a child and had a visit to the dentist before me. I twy to forget it, and be happy, but evewy now and then the wemembwance comes back like a sudden pain, and catches my bweath. Oh, Peggy, isn’t it difficult—isn’t it twying? Aren’t you sowwy for me?”

“No!” said Peggy Saville stoutly. “Not a mite!” She lifted her head and looked the other squarely in the face. Her eyes were astonishingly bright, and there was a patch of colour on each cheek. “Pray, whyshouldI be sorry? If you look upon the question as a pure matter of business, I cannot see that you deserve any sympathy. I am sorry forhim! He seems to be an extremely good bargain, and it is hard on him to be regarded in the light of a disagreeable necessity. I suppose he is devoted to you, and hopes, poor wretch! that you are going to accept him for himself. For youwillaccept him, Rosalind! That’s certain. You may imagine that you have not made up your mind, but you have! You could never have the courage to give up all those good things. Why should you, indeed? They mean more to you than anything else. You would never feel any temptation to love a man who was not rich!”

Peggy spoke in crisp, stinging little sentences, her distress on her brother’s account goading her into unusual bitterness; but she was entirely unprepared for the result of her words, stricken dumb by the sight of Rosalind’s pale glance of reproach, the sudden rush of tears to the eyes. Broken words struggled for utterance, but she could only distinguish, “Unjust! Untwue!” before, as Fate would have it, the couple in front wheeled round, and came back to join them.

“I wanted to know which way you would prefer to take—” began Arthur, and then stopped short, horrified at what he beheld. Something that Peggy had said had touched Rosalind on a tender point, for having once broken down, she found it impossible to control her distress, and though she had lowered her parasol so as to form a shield between herself and the passers-by, she made no attempt to hide from Arthur, but stood gazing at him like a lovely, distressed child, with lips a-quiver, and eyes all drowned in tears. He seized her hand with an impulsive gesture, and questioned her rapidly as to the cause of her distress. His voice vibrated with tenderness, and Rosalind clutched his arm with nervous fingers, and stammered pitiful explanations.

“Peggy—oh, so cruel! So unkind! I asked her advice, and she said—she said—such cruel things!”

Arthur cast one glance at his sister, and then appeared unconscious of her presence. A group of visitors was approaching, and his great desire was to take Rosalind into some quiet corner of the grounds, where she could have an opportunity of recovering her self-possession without being observed by curious eyes.

“Come with me!” he said gently. “Come down this path to the end of the shrubbery. If you are in trouble, can’t I help you, Rosie? Won’t you let me try?”

They disappeared from sight, and Peggy walked on in the opposite direction, her face white and set. The iron had entered into her soul, for oh, that glance—that glance of cold anger and reproach! Could it indeed have come from Arthur—Arthur, who never looked at her in anger before—Arthur, between whom and herself there had never hovered a shadow of a cloud in all their happy, loving lives? A stranger had complained of her, and he had accepted the complaint without giving her an opportunity of justifying herself! Another girl in Peggy’s position might have blamed Arthur in return, and regarded herself as a martyr, but that was not Peggy’s way. Far harder to bear than her own smart would have been the necessity of admitting a flaw in her idol. Her one desire was to justify Arthur, and place him beyond the reach of blame. Before she had taken twenty steps forward, she was saying brokenly to herself:

“Yes, I deserved it! It is easy to be sharp, and say cutting things at another person’s expense. I had the chance of speaking kindly, and of helping her to a better decision, but I let it go, and gave her a sneer instead. I deserved it, Arthur dear! Ididdeserve it, but oh! you must forgive me soon. It’s like red-hot knives sticking into my heart to think that you are angry with me!”

But Arthur was not thinking about Peggy. He was standing beside Rosalind at the end of the shrubbery, his eyes shining, his face beautified by a great tenderness.

“Now, Rosie!” he cried, “now! Tell me all about it!”

Chapter Fifteen.Rosalind gave a little sob and flicked her handkerchief across her eyes.“Peggy thinks I am worldly,” she said brokenly, “and when I twy to confide in her, she puts her head in the air and looks as if she had no patience to listen. She says cwuel things!”“I’m sorry, Rosalind, and so will she be herself, when she has had time to think. Peg is a hasty little mortal, but you know how loving and staunch she is, and I am sure she had not the remotest intention of wounding you. What was it all about? What was the subject under discussion?”But at this Rosalind blushed and hesitated. A problematical marriage was no easy matter to explain to Arthur Saville, yet mingled with her embarrassment was a strange eagerness to hear what he would have to say on the subject. Never once in all these years had a word of love passed Arthur’s lips, but Rosalind was too experienced a woman of the world to be in any doubt as to his sentiments. She knew that he loved her, and had been grateful to him for the reticence which made it possible to continue on terms of friendship, but at this crisis of her life the old friendship seemed insufficient, and her heart went out to Arthur in a rush of love and longing.“I asked her advice about—accepting Lord Everscourt!” she said, faltering; and there was a moment’s silence before Arthur replied quietly:“I see! Just so. And Peggy said?”“She said she was sowwy for him, not me. She said that I looked upon it as a business arrangement, and seemed to think that I could never really care for any man.”“And was she misjudging you?Doyou care for Lord Everscourt, Rosie?”She shook her head at him with a soundless movement of lips shaped to pronounce a “No.”“But he is a good fellow, I am told, and devoted to you. I don’t agree with Peggy on this question, Rosalind. You have been brought up to value certain things so highly that you cannot be happy without them, and if you meet an honest English gentleman who can give them to you, and love you sincerely into the bargain, I believe that it would be your best chance of happiness. If you can esteem and respect him, love would probably follow.”Rosalind dropped her eyes and stood before him drooping and silent. This was not what she had expected to hear. Never in her most despondent moods had she believed it possible that Arthur Saville would advocate her marriage with another; never had she believed that he could listen unmoved to such a suggestion! The pain at her heart forced her into speech, and the words faltered forth with unconscious self-betrayal.“No, I could never love him. It’s impossible! I have no love to give.”“You mean—” began Arthur, and then stopped short, for Rosalind had lifted her eyes to his in a long, eloquent glance, and in that moment there were no secrets between them. Rosalind realised the patient, self-sacrificing love which had kept silence for her sake, and Arthur Saville knew that all that was best in Rosalind Darcy’s nature was given to him, and that he held the key to the poor starved citadel of her heart.“Oh, Rosie!” he cried brokenly, “is it really so? Am I the happy man, dear? Do you mean that you care for me instead—that that is the reason why you cannot love him?”“Always, Arthur, oh, always!” whispered Rosalind brokenly. “Ever since I was a child! I have twied to get over it, but it is no use. I think of you all the time; I enjoy nothing if you are not with me. I have behaved badly to you often, but I have suffered for it afterwards. I have lain awake cwying half the night when you have been vexed with me and have gone away without saying good-night.”“Poor child!” sighed Arthur softly. His face was pale, and wore a troubled expression, very different from that of the ordinary happy lover who has just listened to such a speech from his lady’s lips. “And I have loved you, too, Rosalind; but I never intended to let you know it. Perhaps I was wrong, but I doubted my own powers of making you happy, and thought the best thing I could do for you was to stand out of the way. But the case is altered now. You love me, and that lays a new duty on us both. The question is—how much do you love me, Rosie dear? How much are you prepared to give up for my sake? I am a poor man, and have my way to make. In ten—a dozen years from now, if I am alive and well,”—Arthur squared his shoulders and drew himself up with an air of a man who has a justifiable confidence in his own powers—“I shall have made a position for myself which will be worth your acceptance; but we must realise what ten years means. In ten years, sweetheart,” he looked at her with a smile so tender that her eyes fell before his, “you will be young no longer. You will have passed the best years of your life. Could you bear to pass them as the wife of a poor man, living in a small house, without any of the luxuries and pleasures to which you are accustomed? Do you love me enough to do itwillingly? I’d work with the strength of ten men, but I have had more experience of the world than you, dear, and I know that success cannot come in a day. With all my love and all my care, I could not shield you from the waiting which must come first.”“But—but—” faltered Rosalind, and was silent. The matter-of-fact manner in which Arthur had followed up the mutual declaration of love by a proposal of marriage had filled her with consternation. She did love him, oh yes! If he had been in Lord Everscourt’s position, how gladly she would have been his wife! but his picture of the life which the must share if she joined in her lot with him sent a chill of dismay through her veins. Ten years of poverty and obscurity, ten years’ work and waiting, with no possibility of success until youth and beauty had fled, and she was an uninteresting, middle-aged woman! Rosalind shivered at the thought, and summoned up courage to protest once more.“It is so sudden, Arthur, that I don’t know what to say. I was never sure until now that you weally did care for me. And to talk of being mawwied so soon—at once!”“What else can we do? When you tell me that other men wish to marry you, you cannot wonder that I want to claim you as my own. You are troubled about Lord Everscourt, but if you were engaged to me the matter would settle itself dear, and it would be the best way out of the difficulty. I will speak to your father at once, and—”“No, no!” she cried quickly, so quickly and with such an emphasis of denial that Arthur looked at her in wonder. “You must not do that. I won’t allow it. He is waiting for me to give an answer to Lord Everscourt, and he would be so upset and distwessed. He likes you, and so does mother, but—Oh, you know how it is! You know what they want! You know how disappointed they would be!”“Yes, I know, and I should be sorry for them, for it would be a reasonable disappointment. You are their only daughter, and from their point of view Everscourt can do better for you than I; but, my darling, in this matter you must think first of yourself! It is your life that is at stake, and it is for you to choose whether you prefer love or riches. Your parents will bow to your decision, for they love you too much to destroy your happiness. Your mother would feel it most, but I would do my best to reconcile her to the disappointment, and as for your dear, good father, there is one thing which would grieve him infinitely more than the loss of a brilliant marriage. Can you guess what it is, Rosie?”“No,” she said, “no,” but her eyes drooped, and she fidgeted uneasily with the handle of her parasol. Arthur laid one hand over hers with a quick pressure, and, despite its firmness, his voice was very gentle as he replied:“Yes, you do, dear. You guess what I mean. He would rather see you married to me than know that you had deliberately sold yourself for money while your heart was given to another man. In the one case he would admire your sincerity, in the other he could feel neither admiration nor respect, nothing—it seems to me—but shame and humiliation!”Rosalind drew in her breath with a deep inhalation. It was true, and she knew it was true! Lord Darcy had never failed to hold the highest ideals before his daughter, and it would be a bitter grief to him if she condescended to an unworthy choice. Already, in imagination, she could see the shadow fall across the tired old face, and she shivered as if in pain, for her father’s respect and good opinion were very precious in her eyes. Many a time in days gone past had the fear of his disapproval held her back from a foolish action, and, in this crisis of her life, it was more than ever necessary to her peace of mind to retain his approval. She stood hesitating and trembling, and, unseen to mortal eyes, the good angel of Rosalind Darcy’s life stood by her side at that moment and whispered counsel in her ear. The worldly motives seemed to disappear, she looked in Arthur’s face and saw, waiting for her, love and tenderness, with such joy of congenial companionship as for the moment eclipsed every other consideration. Oh, surely no life was worth having compared with one spent with him! Her mind ran swiftly over a dozen possibilities, and in each found a happy solution. Whatever happened, she could not fail to be content if Arthur were near. He was so good, so strong, so radiant, that his very presence was a guarantee of happiness, of something more than happiness, for, with all his brightness of manner, there was an underlying nobility in Arthur Saville’s character which Rosalind recognised and longed after in the depths of her vacillating heart. She could be a better woman as his wife than in any other sphere in life; if she rejected him, she would reject also her own best chance of becoming a good woman. She knew it, and a little chill, as of fear, ran through her veins as she acknowledged as much to herself, for at the bottom of her heart she knew something else also. She knew that when it came to the point she had no intention of marrying Arthur Saville. It was sweet to look into his face and dream for a moment of what might be, but the chains of the world were too heavy to be broken; the prize for which she had longed was within her grasp, and she could not throw it aside. The good spirit spread her wings and flew sadly away, for when a human being sees with clear eyes the opening of the roads, and deliberately turns in the wrong direction, the angel who must then step forward to bear her company is no longer white-robed, but wears a weary countenance and sombre garment. Sometimes we call her Pain, and sometimes Experience, and there is no welcome waiting for her where she goes, though sometimes, looking back over the years, we bless her in our hearts, and realise that she has taught us lessons which her bright-robed sister was powerless to instil.The shadow of future suffering seemed already on Rosalind’s beautiful face as she raised it to Arthur’s, and cried tremblingly:“Arthur, I cannot! I love you dearly, but I cannot face it! Evewy one would be so surpwised—so astonished! They would laugh at me behind my back, and mother would bweak her heart—and—and—oh, I couldn’t bear to give up so much! I could not be happy seeing other people doing things, and not being able to do them myself. I could not endure to be poor. If you were even a little better off, I might wisk it, but it is such a long, long time to wait. Ten years! And, after all, it is not certain. You might not succeed even then!”“No, nothing is certain, not even the success of a worldly marriage, Rosalind! Health may go, riches may take wings and fly away. Suppose you married Everscourt, and one of these two things came to pass, where would your happiness be then? There is only one thing which can be trusted to remain unchanged, and that is the right sort of love. I could have given you that love, Rosalind, if you had cared enough in return to trust yourself to me, but I will not persuade you against your will. I have an uphill fight before me, and I want a wife who will help me by her faith, not drag me back by her complaining. I was right in believing that such a poor thing as my love could have no power with you against other attractions.”A note of bitterness rang in Arthur’s voice, despite his effort to restrain it, and Rosalind winced, and held out her hands with a gesture of protesting pain.“You don’t understand! You will never understand, and I can’t explain. I can’t justify myself, Arthur, or expect you to forgive me, but twy at least to think of me as kindly as you can. I may not be able to care for any one in the way you do, but at least I have cared for you most! I could never be happy again if I thought I had bwoken your heart.”“You have not broken it, Rosalind,” said Arthur quietly. “If you had loved me truly, and I had lost you, it would have been another matter, but you have never been mine even in imagination. I could not help loving you, but there was no hope in my love, only the shadow of this end hanging over all. Now at last the bolt has fallen, and I have to face the worst. That is all!”“But you won’t—you won’t do anything rash?” gasped Rosalind, the sight of the set face sending a dozen wild thoughts of suicide, emigration, and the like through her foolish brain. “Pwomise me, pwomise me, to be careful of yourself! Oh, Arthur, tell me, what do you mean to do?”Arthur Saville drew himself up with the old soldierly gesture, and the flash came back to his eyes.“Do!” he cried. “Bury the past and begin afresh, Rosalind! This is my second defeat in life, but I’ll go on fighting. I’ll win my victories yet!”Rosalind Darcy looked at him and was silent. He was speaking the truth, and she realised it, as any one must have done who saw the young fellow at that moment, and noted the strength and determination of the handsome face. Arthur Saville was not a man whose life could be wrecked by a woman’s folly; there was a future before him, and the time would come when those who loved him would glory in his achievements.In one of the bitterest moments of her life Rosalind Darcy realised that when this time arrived, she herself would have neither part nor lot in his successes!

Rosalind gave a little sob and flicked her handkerchief across her eyes.

“Peggy thinks I am worldly,” she said brokenly, “and when I twy to confide in her, she puts her head in the air and looks as if she had no patience to listen. She says cwuel things!”

“I’m sorry, Rosalind, and so will she be herself, when she has had time to think. Peg is a hasty little mortal, but you know how loving and staunch she is, and I am sure she had not the remotest intention of wounding you. What was it all about? What was the subject under discussion?”

But at this Rosalind blushed and hesitated. A problematical marriage was no easy matter to explain to Arthur Saville, yet mingled with her embarrassment was a strange eagerness to hear what he would have to say on the subject. Never once in all these years had a word of love passed Arthur’s lips, but Rosalind was too experienced a woman of the world to be in any doubt as to his sentiments. She knew that he loved her, and had been grateful to him for the reticence which made it possible to continue on terms of friendship, but at this crisis of her life the old friendship seemed insufficient, and her heart went out to Arthur in a rush of love and longing.

“I asked her advice about—accepting Lord Everscourt!” she said, faltering; and there was a moment’s silence before Arthur replied quietly:

“I see! Just so. And Peggy said?”

“She said she was sowwy for him, not me. She said that I looked upon it as a business arrangement, and seemed to think that I could never really care for any man.”

“And was she misjudging you?Doyou care for Lord Everscourt, Rosie?”

She shook her head at him with a soundless movement of lips shaped to pronounce a “No.”

“But he is a good fellow, I am told, and devoted to you. I don’t agree with Peggy on this question, Rosalind. You have been brought up to value certain things so highly that you cannot be happy without them, and if you meet an honest English gentleman who can give them to you, and love you sincerely into the bargain, I believe that it would be your best chance of happiness. If you can esteem and respect him, love would probably follow.”

Rosalind dropped her eyes and stood before him drooping and silent. This was not what she had expected to hear. Never in her most despondent moods had she believed it possible that Arthur Saville would advocate her marriage with another; never had she believed that he could listen unmoved to such a suggestion! The pain at her heart forced her into speech, and the words faltered forth with unconscious self-betrayal.

“No, I could never love him. It’s impossible! I have no love to give.”

“You mean—” began Arthur, and then stopped short, for Rosalind had lifted her eyes to his in a long, eloquent glance, and in that moment there were no secrets between them. Rosalind realised the patient, self-sacrificing love which had kept silence for her sake, and Arthur Saville knew that all that was best in Rosalind Darcy’s nature was given to him, and that he held the key to the poor starved citadel of her heart.

“Oh, Rosie!” he cried brokenly, “is it really so? Am I the happy man, dear? Do you mean that you care for me instead—that that is the reason why you cannot love him?”

“Always, Arthur, oh, always!” whispered Rosalind brokenly. “Ever since I was a child! I have twied to get over it, but it is no use. I think of you all the time; I enjoy nothing if you are not with me. I have behaved badly to you often, but I have suffered for it afterwards. I have lain awake cwying half the night when you have been vexed with me and have gone away without saying good-night.”

“Poor child!” sighed Arthur softly. His face was pale, and wore a troubled expression, very different from that of the ordinary happy lover who has just listened to such a speech from his lady’s lips. “And I have loved you, too, Rosalind; but I never intended to let you know it. Perhaps I was wrong, but I doubted my own powers of making you happy, and thought the best thing I could do for you was to stand out of the way. But the case is altered now. You love me, and that lays a new duty on us both. The question is—how much do you love me, Rosie dear? How much are you prepared to give up for my sake? I am a poor man, and have my way to make. In ten—a dozen years from now, if I am alive and well,”—Arthur squared his shoulders and drew himself up with an air of a man who has a justifiable confidence in his own powers—“I shall have made a position for myself which will be worth your acceptance; but we must realise what ten years means. In ten years, sweetheart,” he looked at her with a smile so tender that her eyes fell before his, “you will be young no longer. You will have passed the best years of your life. Could you bear to pass them as the wife of a poor man, living in a small house, without any of the luxuries and pleasures to which you are accustomed? Do you love me enough to do itwillingly? I’d work with the strength of ten men, but I have had more experience of the world than you, dear, and I know that success cannot come in a day. With all my love and all my care, I could not shield you from the waiting which must come first.”

“But—but—” faltered Rosalind, and was silent. The matter-of-fact manner in which Arthur had followed up the mutual declaration of love by a proposal of marriage had filled her with consternation. She did love him, oh yes! If he had been in Lord Everscourt’s position, how gladly she would have been his wife! but his picture of the life which the must share if she joined in her lot with him sent a chill of dismay through her veins. Ten years of poverty and obscurity, ten years’ work and waiting, with no possibility of success until youth and beauty had fled, and she was an uninteresting, middle-aged woman! Rosalind shivered at the thought, and summoned up courage to protest once more.

“It is so sudden, Arthur, that I don’t know what to say. I was never sure until now that you weally did care for me. And to talk of being mawwied so soon—at once!”

“What else can we do? When you tell me that other men wish to marry you, you cannot wonder that I want to claim you as my own. You are troubled about Lord Everscourt, but if you were engaged to me the matter would settle itself dear, and it would be the best way out of the difficulty. I will speak to your father at once, and—”

“No, no!” she cried quickly, so quickly and with such an emphasis of denial that Arthur looked at her in wonder. “You must not do that. I won’t allow it. He is waiting for me to give an answer to Lord Everscourt, and he would be so upset and distwessed. He likes you, and so does mother, but—Oh, you know how it is! You know what they want! You know how disappointed they would be!”

“Yes, I know, and I should be sorry for them, for it would be a reasonable disappointment. You are their only daughter, and from their point of view Everscourt can do better for you than I; but, my darling, in this matter you must think first of yourself! It is your life that is at stake, and it is for you to choose whether you prefer love or riches. Your parents will bow to your decision, for they love you too much to destroy your happiness. Your mother would feel it most, but I would do my best to reconcile her to the disappointment, and as for your dear, good father, there is one thing which would grieve him infinitely more than the loss of a brilliant marriage. Can you guess what it is, Rosie?”

“No,” she said, “no,” but her eyes drooped, and she fidgeted uneasily with the handle of her parasol. Arthur laid one hand over hers with a quick pressure, and, despite its firmness, his voice was very gentle as he replied:

“Yes, you do, dear. You guess what I mean. He would rather see you married to me than know that you had deliberately sold yourself for money while your heart was given to another man. In the one case he would admire your sincerity, in the other he could feel neither admiration nor respect, nothing—it seems to me—but shame and humiliation!”

Rosalind drew in her breath with a deep inhalation. It was true, and she knew it was true! Lord Darcy had never failed to hold the highest ideals before his daughter, and it would be a bitter grief to him if she condescended to an unworthy choice. Already, in imagination, she could see the shadow fall across the tired old face, and she shivered as if in pain, for her father’s respect and good opinion were very precious in her eyes. Many a time in days gone past had the fear of his disapproval held her back from a foolish action, and, in this crisis of her life, it was more than ever necessary to her peace of mind to retain his approval. She stood hesitating and trembling, and, unseen to mortal eyes, the good angel of Rosalind Darcy’s life stood by her side at that moment and whispered counsel in her ear. The worldly motives seemed to disappear, she looked in Arthur’s face and saw, waiting for her, love and tenderness, with such joy of congenial companionship as for the moment eclipsed every other consideration. Oh, surely no life was worth having compared with one spent with him! Her mind ran swiftly over a dozen possibilities, and in each found a happy solution. Whatever happened, she could not fail to be content if Arthur were near. He was so good, so strong, so radiant, that his very presence was a guarantee of happiness, of something more than happiness, for, with all his brightness of manner, there was an underlying nobility in Arthur Saville’s character which Rosalind recognised and longed after in the depths of her vacillating heart. She could be a better woman as his wife than in any other sphere in life; if she rejected him, she would reject also her own best chance of becoming a good woman. She knew it, and a little chill, as of fear, ran through her veins as she acknowledged as much to herself, for at the bottom of her heart she knew something else also. She knew that when it came to the point she had no intention of marrying Arthur Saville. It was sweet to look into his face and dream for a moment of what might be, but the chains of the world were too heavy to be broken; the prize for which she had longed was within her grasp, and she could not throw it aside. The good spirit spread her wings and flew sadly away, for when a human being sees with clear eyes the opening of the roads, and deliberately turns in the wrong direction, the angel who must then step forward to bear her company is no longer white-robed, but wears a weary countenance and sombre garment. Sometimes we call her Pain, and sometimes Experience, and there is no welcome waiting for her where she goes, though sometimes, looking back over the years, we bless her in our hearts, and realise that she has taught us lessons which her bright-robed sister was powerless to instil.

The shadow of future suffering seemed already on Rosalind’s beautiful face as she raised it to Arthur’s, and cried tremblingly:

“Arthur, I cannot! I love you dearly, but I cannot face it! Evewy one would be so surpwised—so astonished! They would laugh at me behind my back, and mother would bweak her heart—and—and—oh, I couldn’t bear to give up so much! I could not be happy seeing other people doing things, and not being able to do them myself. I could not endure to be poor. If you were even a little better off, I might wisk it, but it is such a long, long time to wait. Ten years! And, after all, it is not certain. You might not succeed even then!”

“No, nothing is certain, not even the success of a worldly marriage, Rosalind! Health may go, riches may take wings and fly away. Suppose you married Everscourt, and one of these two things came to pass, where would your happiness be then? There is only one thing which can be trusted to remain unchanged, and that is the right sort of love. I could have given you that love, Rosalind, if you had cared enough in return to trust yourself to me, but I will not persuade you against your will. I have an uphill fight before me, and I want a wife who will help me by her faith, not drag me back by her complaining. I was right in believing that such a poor thing as my love could have no power with you against other attractions.”

A note of bitterness rang in Arthur’s voice, despite his effort to restrain it, and Rosalind winced, and held out her hands with a gesture of protesting pain.

“You don’t understand! You will never understand, and I can’t explain. I can’t justify myself, Arthur, or expect you to forgive me, but twy at least to think of me as kindly as you can. I may not be able to care for any one in the way you do, but at least I have cared for you most! I could never be happy again if I thought I had bwoken your heart.”

“You have not broken it, Rosalind,” said Arthur quietly. “If you had loved me truly, and I had lost you, it would have been another matter, but you have never been mine even in imagination. I could not help loving you, but there was no hope in my love, only the shadow of this end hanging over all. Now at last the bolt has fallen, and I have to face the worst. That is all!”

“But you won’t—you won’t do anything rash?” gasped Rosalind, the sight of the set face sending a dozen wild thoughts of suicide, emigration, and the like through her foolish brain. “Pwomise me, pwomise me, to be careful of yourself! Oh, Arthur, tell me, what do you mean to do?”

Arthur Saville drew himself up with the old soldierly gesture, and the flash came back to his eyes.

“Do!” he cried. “Bury the past and begin afresh, Rosalind! This is my second defeat in life, but I’ll go on fighting. I’ll win my victories yet!”

Rosalind Darcy looked at him and was silent. He was speaking the truth, and she realised it, as any one must have done who saw the young fellow at that moment, and noted the strength and determination of the handsome face. Arthur Saville was not a man whose life could be wrecked by a woman’s folly; there was a future before him, and the time would come when those who loved him would glory in his achievements.

In one of the bitterest moments of her life Rosalind Darcy realised that when this time arrived, she herself would have neither part nor lot in his successes!

Chapter Sixteen.When Peggy was dressing for dinner that evening a knock came to her door, and Arthur’s voice demanded entrance. She flew to meet him, and felt her spirits go up at a bound at the sight of his smile.“Have you come to say you have forgiven me?” she asked, linking her arm in his, and shaking back the mane of hair which fell over the white dressing-gown. “I am so thankful to see you, for I am appallingly hungry, and yet to eat a crumb while you were still angry with me, would have been a moral impossibility. I did not know how to get through dinner.”“Angry! When was I angry? I was never angry with you, Peggy kins, that I know of!”“Oh, Arthur! This very afternoon. A most lacerating glance. It cut into me like knives.”Arthur laughed; a short, half-hearted laugh which ended in a sigh.“Oh, is that all? I was annoyed for a moment, but it seems a small cause for so much emotion. Can’t you bear even a glance of disapproval, young lady?”“No, I can’t! Not from people I love, for I do love them so badly, that there’s no peace or comfort for me unless they are pleased with me in return. I am not blaming you, dear, but it was the first time, you see, that you have ever taken part against me.”“Ah, well, it won’t happen again; it’s the last time as well as the first!” sighed Arthur wearily. “I came to tell you, Peg, that Rosalind and I have come to a definite understanding. You knew so much that it is only fair that you should know the whole. You will soon be asked to congratulate her on her engagement to Lord Everscourt.”Peggy marched to the other end of the room, aimed a deliberate blow at an unoffending wicker work-table and hurled it to the ground. She glared with an expression of savage satisfaction at the miscellaneous articles scattered broadcast over the floor, curled her lips scornfully at her own reflection in the glass, and finally walked back to Arthur’s side, and exclaimed in a tragic voice:“I knew it! I knew it was coming! She affected to ask my advice, but I told her it was waste of time, as she had really made up her mind what she meant to do. Then she began to cry, and said I was cruel, and went away with you so willingly that I thought perhaps, after all, I had judged too quickly, for shedoescare for you, Arthur, I know she does! She could not deny that, I suppose?”“No, she did not deny it. She loves me in her own way, but it’s not my way, Peg—or yours! She would have been happy with me if I had been rich, but she is not prepared to make any sacrifices on my account, and would rather give me up than live a quiet, restricted life. She does not even understand how much she is losing, poor girl, or how little satisfaction she will get in return!”Peggy set her lips tightly.“No, she does not understand, and that makes one sorry for her, for she misses just the best thing in life. I used to think when I was a child that the thing I wanted most was for people to love me—not in an ordinary, calm, matter-of-fact sort of way, you know, but to love mefrightfully, and care for me more than any one else in the world! I used to put myself to any amount of trouble to be agreeable, for even if I did not care for a person myself, it worried me to death if that person were not devoted to me! There were thirty-six girls at school besides the governesses, so you may imagine how exhausting it was to be nice to them all. Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a mistake. It’s sweet to be loved, but it’s ever so much sweeter to love. It is so inspiring to forget all about one’s tiresome little self, and care more for somebody else. When I love people, I feel,” Peggy threw back her head and expanded her little shoulders with a terrific breath, “omnipotent! There is nothing I could notbeordoor suffer to help them. The more they need from me the happier I am. Don’t you know how you feel after listening to a beautiful sermon—that you really wish something disagreeable would happen, to give you an opportunity of behaving well and being sweet and unselfish? Well, that’s just how one feels in a lesser way to the people one loves on earth. It’s how I feel to you at this moment, Arthur darling, when I know you are suffering. I wish I could take all the misery and bear it for you. Is your heart quite broken, you dear old lad?”“No, Peg, it is not. I feel miserable enough, but I don’t delude myself that I have received a life-long wound. It has been a dream, you know, a schoolboy’s dream, but I always realised that the princess was not for me. She is so lovely that one’s heart goes out to her instinctively, but it never seemed possible to think of her as a part of my work-a-day life. It’s dreary work walking in the cold grey light and realising that the dream is over, but I shall pull myself together as time goes on, and make the best of what remains.”“You will be surprised to discover how much that is! There are many people left who love you and long to make you happy, and in time to come you will be thankful that things are arranged as they are. There are dozens of other girls who are far better worth winning—”“But I don’t happen to want them! That makes all the difference!” sighed Arthur sadly. “Ah, Peg, it is easy to be philosophical for another person. I could offer volumes of common-sense consolations to another fellow in my position, but they fall very flat when it comes to one’s own turn. It is impossible to judge for another person.”“Yet onlookers see most of the game, and no one could know you and Rosalind, and not feel that you were a thousand times too good for her! Think of mother! Think of Mrs Asplin! Compare her with them, and you will see how different she is. I can quite understand your feelings, for she fascinated me, too, and, however stern I mean to be, I have to give in when she takes the trouble to smile upon me; but one wants something more than pretty ways, and she would have disappointed you, Arthur, I know she would! You would have found her empty-headed and unsympathetic just where you needed sympathy most.”“Ah, well, well, we won’t discuss her any more. It is not our business. If you want to please me, Peg, you will be as friendly as possible when you meet. She will have her own troubles to bear, poor girl, and it will be all the easier for you, since you believe that I have had a fortunate escape.”He tried to smile, but it was an unsuccessful attempt, and Peggy realised that the wound was as yet too fresh to bear handling. The time would come when Arthur would be ready to receive consolation, but now it was easy to see that depreciation of Rosalind’s character only added to his distress. He did not attempt to contradict his sister’s statements, but no doubt the fact that he was unable to do so was the bitterest drop in his cup. Peggy clasped her arms round his arm and looked into his face with wistful eyes.“Oh, Arthur, I wonder why it is that the two things which you have cared for most in your life have both been denied to you? You wanted two things—just two—and they have both ended in disappointment! If you had been wilful and selfish, it would have been different, but you never were that. You worked hard, and thought of other people before yourself, and still nothing has gone right! How is it? Why is it? Why should it be?”Arthur shook his head sadly.“I don’t know, Peg. My luck, I suppose,” he replied in a tone so dejected that it brought the tears to his sister’s eyes.“No, it is not your luck,” she contradicted quickly. “I know what it is—it has just come to me this minute. It is because God has better things waiting for you! It is all rough and miserable just now, but further along the path it will get beautiful again. Oh, I believe it will be very beautiful; and when you get there, Arthur, you will be thankful that you went on, and did not stop half-way.”“Dear little Peg,” he said fondly, “I hope I shall. It’s a cheery thought, and I’ll adopt it forthwith, and try to look ahead, not backwards, and you must do the same. No more tears, please! You must help me by being bright and talking persistently of some thing else. And now I must go, or you will never be ready for that dinner you want so badly. I’m wery hungry myself, so please don’t keep us waiting.”He hurried out of the room, leaving Peggy to continue her hairdressing operations with a tear trickling slowly over her cheek, and a speculative expression in her eye.Hungry? But he had no business to be hungry! Never in the course of her readings had she come across the case of a rejected lover openly avowing an impatience for dinner, and, despite her anxiety for her brother’s happiness, Peggy could not subdue a certain regret that he should have showed such a painful inconsistency in the performance of his part!The next day brought the visit to London to a conclusion, but Peggy said her adieux with the pleasant expectation of meeting her friends again before many weeks were over. When Parliament rose, Arthur would be free, and had agreed all the more willingly to come down to Yew Hedge, as Rosalind and her father would at that time be visiting Lady Darcy in Switzerland. An invitation to Eunice for the same time had also been eagerly accepted, and Peggy was full of rose-coloured schemes for the amusement of her guests.“Picture to yourself, my dear,” she cried tragically, “that never yet have I had the pleasure of entertaining a friend in my own domain! I don’t know if you will enjoy yourself, but I am sure that I shall. I have views on the subject of hospitality, and am anxious to test them. So I shall treat you like a puppet, and play all sorts of experiments on you to try the effect. I should wish you to feel tired sometimes in the morning, and stay in bed to breakfast, so that I could wait upon you, and to be too lazy to dress yourself now and again, so that I could arrange your hair in different styles. If you could manage to be a little ill, it would be charming, for then I could nurse you and be severe about your diet, but if you keep wen, we will make the best of it, and entertain the neighbourhood. I’ll set to work at once to plan something original and startling.”“Oh, do!” cried Eunice eagerly. “I’d love to be startled. I shall look forward to coming every single day until the time arrives, and be the most obedient of puppets. You are a dear, Peggy—Idolove you! I’m so grateful to you for being kind to me.”“It’s my nature, dear. Go on deserving it. Three remarks at least I insist upon at every meal, and if you could increase the number to six, I should be correspondingly gratified. Don’t stare at the carpet, don’t look frightened when there is nothing to be frightened at, and look after my beloved brother for my sake. Those are my last instructions for your guidance. Arthur feels lonely sometimes, just as you do, and it would help you both if you would talk to him sometimes, or, still better, let him talk to you. Men, my dear,” sighed Miss Peggy with an air of experience, “men like nothing better than to talk of themselves with a woman as audience. Ask questions about his work, his plans, his thoughts, and he will go on talking happily, so long as you will sit and listen to him. You could do that, at least, if you could not talk yourself.”“Oh yes, easily. I’d like it. I love to hear him talk,” assented Eunice naïvely. She fixed her soft shy eyes upon Peggy’s face as she spoke, and that young lady felt that she had shown her usual shrewdness in suggesting such an arrangement, for a sweeterconfidanteit would have been difficult to find, or one more ready with sympathetic interest.With her usual tactfulness Eunice declined to accompany Peggy to the station, so that her presence should put no check upon the last conversation between brother and sister, but no reference was made on either side to the event of two days before. Arthur seemed anxious to talk on impersonal subjects, so they discussed the old friends and their doings—Esther and her theories, Mellicent and her romances, and sent affectionate memories after the two absentees, Rex working his uphill way in the world, and Oswald in his luxurious home. It was always a happy task to recall bygone days, and the “Do you remember?” filled up the conversation until the last moment arrived, and Peggy leant out of the carriage window looking down upon Arthur with an anxious scrutiny. The dear face looked worn and thin, and the forehead showed a couple of lines which she had never seen before.“Oh, Arthur, I wish I were staying longer, or that you were coming home with me!” she cried impetuously. “I can’t bear leaving you alone just now. You need to be petted and coddled and made a fuss of, you dear old boy, and I am desolated that I can’t do it! What is the use of having a sister, if she can’t do anything for you when you are in trouble?”“She has done a great deal for me already, and is such a sympathetic person, Peg, that I am afraid she would spoil me altogether if she had her way! It’s just as well that we have to be separated for a time, for the less I think of myself the better. It can do no good, and only unfit me for work. I’m going to set my teeth and begin afresh. Consolation prohibited, my dear, but hints for support and occupation thankfully received!”And then had Peggy an inspiration! A flash of mischievous enjoyment lit up the hazel eyes, but before Arthur had time to discover it, it had disappeared and been replaced by an innocent little smile.“You might do a good turn to Eunice by cheering her up after my loss! It would be beneficial for you to make the effort, and the Rollos would be grateful. It is not easy to make her talk, but you would find it worth the effort, for she has sweet thoughts, and—on occasion—a pretty little wit of her own!”“On somewhat rare occasions, I should say,” replied Arthur, smiling; but all the same he looked pleased at the suggestion, and the smile lingered on his lips, as at some pleasant remembrance.When the whistle sounded and the train began to move onwards, he waved his hand and nodded a cheery assent.“Right, Peg! For the credit of the family, your pupil shall not be allowed to fall back into her old ways. I’ll do my duty towards her.”“Mind you do!” cried Peggy, and flopped down on her seat with a soft explosion of laughter. “Ha! ha!” she cried aloud. “Ha! ha!” and flourished her magazine in triumph.The next moment she became aware that an old lady seated in the opposite corner was regarding her with glances of apprehension, and stealthily fumbling for her umbrella as a possible means of defence.“She thinks I am mad!” quoth Miss Peggy to herself, “How truly gratifying! I must foster the delusion.” She turned her magazine ostentatiously upside down, smiled vacantly at the pictures, and feigning to fall asleep, watched beneath her eyelashes the compassionate glances with which she was regarded, shaking the while with inward laughter!

When Peggy was dressing for dinner that evening a knock came to her door, and Arthur’s voice demanded entrance. She flew to meet him, and felt her spirits go up at a bound at the sight of his smile.

“Have you come to say you have forgiven me?” she asked, linking her arm in his, and shaking back the mane of hair which fell over the white dressing-gown. “I am so thankful to see you, for I am appallingly hungry, and yet to eat a crumb while you were still angry with me, would have been a moral impossibility. I did not know how to get through dinner.”

“Angry! When was I angry? I was never angry with you, Peggy kins, that I know of!”

“Oh, Arthur! This very afternoon. A most lacerating glance. It cut into me like knives.”

Arthur laughed; a short, half-hearted laugh which ended in a sigh.

“Oh, is that all? I was annoyed for a moment, but it seems a small cause for so much emotion. Can’t you bear even a glance of disapproval, young lady?”

“No, I can’t! Not from people I love, for I do love them so badly, that there’s no peace or comfort for me unless they are pleased with me in return. I am not blaming you, dear, but it was the first time, you see, that you have ever taken part against me.”

“Ah, well, it won’t happen again; it’s the last time as well as the first!” sighed Arthur wearily. “I came to tell you, Peg, that Rosalind and I have come to a definite understanding. You knew so much that it is only fair that you should know the whole. You will soon be asked to congratulate her on her engagement to Lord Everscourt.”

Peggy marched to the other end of the room, aimed a deliberate blow at an unoffending wicker work-table and hurled it to the ground. She glared with an expression of savage satisfaction at the miscellaneous articles scattered broadcast over the floor, curled her lips scornfully at her own reflection in the glass, and finally walked back to Arthur’s side, and exclaimed in a tragic voice:

“I knew it! I knew it was coming! She affected to ask my advice, but I told her it was waste of time, as she had really made up her mind what she meant to do. Then she began to cry, and said I was cruel, and went away with you so willingly that I thought perhaps, after all, I had judged too quickly, for shedoescare for you, Arthur, I know she does! She could not deny that, I suppose?”

“No, she did not deny it. She loves me in her own way, but it’s not my way, Peg—or yours! She would have been happy with me if I had been rich, but she is not prepared to make any sacrifices on my account, and would rather give me up than live a quiet, restricted life. She does not even understand how much she is losing, poor girl, or how little satisfaction she will get in return!”

Peggy set her lips tightly.

“No, she does not understand, and that makes one sorry for her, for she misses just the best thing in life. I used to think when I was a child that the thing I wanted most was for people to love me—not in an ordinary, calm, matter-of-fact sort of way, you know, but to love mefrightfully, and care for me more than any one else in the world! I used to put myself to any amount of trouble to be agreeable, for even if I did not care for a person myself, it worried me to death if that person were not devoted to me! There were thirty-six girls at school besides the governesses, so you may imagine how exhausting it was to be nice to them all. Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a mistake. It’s sweet to be loved, but it’s ever so much sweeter to love. It is so inspiring to forget all about one’s tiresome little self, and care more for somebody else. When I love people, I feel,” Peggy threw back her head and expanded her little shoulders with a terrific breath, “omnipotent! There is nothing I could notbeordoor suffer to help them. The more they need from me the happier I am. Don’t you know how you feel after listening to a beautiful sermon—that you really wish something disagreeable would happen, to give you an opportunity of behaving well and being sweet and unselfish? Well, that’s just how one feels in a lesser way to the people one loves on earth. It’s how I feel to you at this moment, Arthur darling, when I know you are suffering. I wish I could take all the misery and bear it for you. Is your heart quite broken, you dear old lad?”

“No, Peg, it is not. I feel miserable enough, but I don’t delude myself that I have received a life-long wound. It has been a dream, you know, a schoolboy’s dream, but I always realised that the princess was not for me. She is so lovely that one’s heart goes out to her instinctively, but it never seemed possible to think of her as a part of my work-a-day life. It’s dreary work walking in the cold grey light and realising that the dream is over, but I shall pull myself together as time goes on, and make the best of what remains.”

“You will be surprised to discover how much that is! There are many people left who love you and long to make you happy, and in time to come you will be thankful that things are arranged as they are. There are dozens of other girls who are far better worth winning—”

“But I don’t happen to want them! That makes all the difference!” sighed Arthur sadly. “Ah, Peg, it is easy to be philosophical for another person. I could offer volumes of common-sense consolations to another fellow in my position, but they fall very flat when it comes to one’s own turn. It is impossible to judge for another person.”

“Yet onlookers see most of the game, and no one could know you and Rosalind, and not feel that you were a thousand times too good for her! Think of mother! Think of Mrs Asplin! Compare her with them, and you will see how different she is. I can quite understand your feelings, for she fascinated me, too, and, however stern I mean to be, I have to give in when she takes the trouble to smile upon me; but one wants something more than pretty ways, and she would have disappointed you, Arthur, I know she would! You would have found her empty-headed and unsympathetic just where you needed sympathy most.”

“Ah, well, well, we won’t discuss her any more. It is not our business. If you want to please me, Peg, you will be as friendly as possible when you meet. She will have her own troubles to bear, poor girl, and it will be all the easier for you, since you believe that I have had a fortunate escape.”

He tried to smile, but it was an unsuccessful attempt, and Peggy realised that the wound was as yet too fresh to bear handling. The time would come when Arthur would be ready to receive consolation, but now it was easy to see that depreciation of Rosalind’s character only added to his distress. He did not attempt to contradict his sister’s statements, but no doubt the fact that he was unable to do so was the bitterest drop in his cup. Peggy clasped her arms round his arm and looked into his face with wistful eyes.

“Oh, Arthur, I wonder why it is that the two things which you have cared for most in your life have both been denied to you? You wanted two things—just two—and they have both ended in disappointment! If you had been wilful and selfish, it would have been different, but you never were that. You worked hard, and thought of other people before yourself, and still nothing has gone right! How is it? Why is it? Why should it be?”

Arthur shook his head sadly.

“I don’t know, Peg. My luck, I suppose,” he replied in a tone so dejected that it brought the tears to his sister’s eyes.

“No, it is not your luck,” she contradicted quickly. “I know what it is—it has just come to me this minute. It is because God has better things waiting for you! It is all rough and miserable just now, but further along the path it will get beautiful again. Oh, I believe it will be very beautiful; and when you get there, Arthur, you will be thankful that you went on, and did not stop half-way.”

“Dear little Peg,” he said fondly, “I hope I shall. It’s a cheery thought, and I’ll adopt it forthwith, and try to look ahead, not backwards, and you must do the same. No more tears, please! You must help me by being bright and talking persistently of some thing else. And now I must go, or you will never be ready for that dinner you want so badly. I’m wery hungry myself, so please don’t keep us waiting.”

He hurried out of the room, leaving Peggy to continue her hairdressing operations with a tear trickling slowly over her cheek, and a speculative expression in her eye.

Hungry? But he had no business to be hungry! Never in the course of her readings had she come across the case of a rejected lover openly avowing an impatience for dinner, and, despite her anxiety for her brother’s happiness, Peggy could not subdue a certain regret that he should have showed such a painful inconsistency in the performance of his part!

The next day brought the visit to London to a conclusion, but Peggy said her adieux with the pleasant expectation of meeting her friends again before many weeks were over. When Parliament rose, Arthur would be free, and had agreed all the more willingly to come down to Yew Hedge, as Rosalind and her father would at that time be visiting Lady Darcy in Switzerland. An invitation to Eunice for the same time had also been eagerly accepted, and Peggy was full of rose-coloured schemes for the amusement of her guests.

“Picture to yourself, my dear,” she cried tragically, “that never yet have I had the pleasure of entertaining a friend in my own domain! I don’t know if you will enjoy yourself, but I am sure that I shall. I have views on the subject of hospitality, and am anxious to test them. So I shall treat you like a puppet, and play all sorts of experiments on you to try the effect. I should wish you to feel tired sometimes in the morning, and stay in bed to breakfast, so that I could wait upon you, and to be too lazy to dress yourself now and again, so that I could arrange your hair in different styles. If you could manage to be a little ill, it would be charming, for then I could nurse you and be severe about your diet, but if you keep wen, we will make the best of it, and entertain the neighbourhood. I’ll set to work at once to plan something original and startling.”

“Oh, do!” cried Eunice eagerly. “I’d love to be startled. I shall look forward to coming every single day until the time arrives, and be the most obedient of puppets. You are a dear, Peggy—Idolove you! I’m so grateful to you for being kind to me.”

“It’s my nature, dear. Go on deserving it. Three remarks at least I insist upon at every meal, and if you could increase the number to six, I should be correspondingly gratified. Don’t stare at the carpet, don’t look frightened when there is nothing to be frightened at, and look after my beloved brother for my sake. Those are my last instructions for your guidance. Arthur feels lonely sometimes, just as you do, and it would help you both if you would talk to him sometimes, or, still better, let him talk to you. Men, my dear,” sighed Miss Peggy with an air of experience, “men like nothing better than to talk of themselves with a woman as audience. Ask questions about his work, his plans, his thoughts, and he will go on talking happily, so long as you will sit and listen to him. You could do that, at least, if you could not talk yourself.”

“Oh yes, easily. I’d like it. I love to hear him talk,” assented Eunice naïvely. She fixed her soft shy eyes upon Peggy’s face as she spoke, and that young lady felt that she had shown her usual shrewdness in suggesting such an arrangement, for a sweeterconfidanteit would have been difficult to find, or one more ready with sympathetic interest.

With her usual tactfulness Eunice declined to accompany Peggy to the station, so that her presence should put no check upon the last conversation between brother and sister, but no reference was made on either side to the event of two days before. Arthur seemed anxious to talk on impersonal subjects, so they discussed the old friends and their doings—Esther and her theories, Mellicent and her romances, and sent affectionate memories after the two absentees, Rex working his uphill way in the world, and Oswald in his luxurious home. It was always a happy task to recall bygone days, and the “Do you remember?” filled up the conversation until the last moment arrived, and Peggy leant out of the carriage window looking down upon Arthur with an anxious scrutiny. The dear face looked worn and thin, and the forehead showed a couple of lines which she had never seen before.

“Oh, Arthur, I wish I were staying longer, or that you were coming home with me!” she cried impetuously. “I can’t bear leaving you alone just now. You need to be petted and coddled and made a fuss of, you dear old boy, and I am desolated that I can’t do it! What is the use of having a sister, if she can’t do anything for you when you are in trouble?”

“She has done a great deal for me already, and is such a sympathetic person, Peg, that I am afraid she would spoil me altogether if she had her way! It’s just as well that we have to be separated for a time, for the less I think of myself the better. It can do no good, and only unfit me for work. I’m going to set my teeth and begin afresh. Consolation prohibited, my dear, but hints for support and occupation thankfully received!”

And then had Peggy an inspiration! A flash of mischievous enjoyment lit up the hazel eyes, but before Arthur had time to discover it, it had disappeared and been replaced by an innocent little smile.

“You might do a good turn to Eunice by cheering her up after my loss! It would be beneficial for you to make the effort, and the Rollos would be grateful. It is not easy to make her talk, but you would find it worth the effort, for she has sweet thoughts, and—on occasion—a pretty little wit of her own!”

“On somewhat rare occasions, I should say,” replied Arthur, smiling; but all the same he looked pleased at the suggestion, and the smile lingered on his lips, as at some pleasant remembrance.

When the whistle sounded and the train began to move onwards, he waved his hand and nodded a cheery assent.

“Right, Peg! For the credit of the family, your pupil shall not be allowed to fall back into her old ways. I’ll do my duty towards her.”

“Mind you do!” cried Peggy, and flopped down on her seat with a soft explosion of laughter. “Ha! ha!” she cried aloud. “Ha! ha!” and flourished her magazine in triumph.

The next moment she became aware that an old lady seated in the opposite corner was regarding her with glances of apprehension, and stealthily fumbling for her umbrella as a possible means of defence.

“She thinks I am mad!” quoth Miss Peggy to herself, “How truly gratifying! I must foster the delusion.” She turned her magazine ostentatiously upside down, smiled vacantly at the pictures, and feigning to fall asleep, watched beneath her eyelashes the compassionate glances with which she was regarded, shaking the while with inward laughter!

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