Title: Jill - Vol. I (of 2)
Author: Dillwyn, E. A.
Language: English
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                                JILL


                                 BY

                           E. A. DILLWYN


                      IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. I.


                               London
                         MACMILLAN AND CO.
                                1884

                       _All rights reserved._



              _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._



                             CONTENTS.


                             CHAPTER I.
                                                                 PAGE
JILL INTRODUCES HERSELF . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   1

                            CHAPTER II.

FOREIGN TRAVEL. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  16

                            CHAPTER III.

A WIDOW'S MANŒUVRES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  29

                            CHAPTER IV.

A TIGHT CURB. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  38

                             CHAPTER V.

BREAKING LOOSE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  54

                            CHAPTER VI.

A PHOTOGRAPH. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  71

                            CHAPTER VII.

A FEW LONDON PRICES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  86

                           CHAPTER VIII.

A STREET INCIDENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104

                            CHAPTER IX.

A NERVOUS LADY. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

                             CHAPTER X.

CHANGE OF SITUATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

                            CHAPTER XI.

AN UNWELCOME ADMIRER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

                            CHAPTER XII.

THE PHOTOGRAPH AGAIN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166

                           CHAPTER XIII.

LORD CLEMENT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178

                            CHAPTER XIV.

AT AJACCIO. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194

                            CHAPTER XV.

A DRIVING EXPEDITION THROUGH CORSICA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205

                            CHAPTER XVI.

ESCAPED PENITENCIERS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221



                             CHAPTER I.

                      JILL INTRODUCES HERSELF.


I have heard people say that men are more apt to be of an adventurous
disposition than women, but that is an opinion from which I differ. I
suppose it has arisen because timidity and sensitiveness are hostile
to the spirit of enterprise, checking its growth and development,
and not unfrequently proving altogether fatal to it; and as these
qualities are especially characteristic of the weaker sex, it follows
naturally that noted female adventurers are less common than male
ones. But that seems only to show that an unfavourable soil has
caused the plant to become blighted or smothered, and is no conclusive
proof that the seed was never sown. It is my belief that the aforesaid
spirit is distributed by nature impartially throughout the human race,
and that she implants it as freely in the breast of the female as in
that of the male. Once let it be implanted, and let it have fair
play, untrammelled by nervous, hesitating, shrinking, home-clinging
tendencies, and it will infallibly lead its possessor to some bold
departure from the everyday routine of existence that satisfies
mortals of a more hum-drum temperament. A craving for continual
change and excitement is a thing that is sure to assert itself
vigorously and insist on being gratified, provided its possessor
has also plenty of health and courage, and is unrestrained by the
fetters formed from strong domestic attachments or other affection.
Of people thus positively and negatively endowed it may be confidently
predicted--whether their gender be masculine or feminine--that
adventures will bestrew their road plentifully, meeting them at every
turn, and seeming to seek them out and be attracted to them even as
flies unto honey. I am myself an instance of this, as I can see
plainly enough in reviewing my past career. At an earlier period I
was less clear-sighted, and failed to perceive the restless spirit
that had taken possession of me and become the constraining power
of my life; but the lapse of a few years is a wonderful aid to
discerning the true motives of former actions, and reminds me in this
way of the dark blue spectacles which the man in charge of a smelting
furnace puts on when he wants to see what is going on in his furnace.
Without them he can distinguish nothing in the fiery interior; but
the spectacles have the effect of softening the fierce, blinding
glare, rendering visible what was before invisible, and enabling him
to watch the progress of the red-hot seething masses of ore and metal
undergoing fusion and transmutation under his care. And in like manner
does intervening time clear the vision towards events, so that it
is possible to estimate them far more justly some while after they
have taken place, than it was at the moment of their occurrence. A
retrospect, therefore, gives me a more correct notion of myself than
I had before. I see how often, when I imagined myself to be solely
impelled by some purely external circumstance, I was, in reality,
also obeying the dictates of a longing for adventure and impatience
of sameness, which have always had a very strong influence in
determining my conduct. I detect how love of variety manifested
itself as the principal cause of my actions, and made my course
deviate widely from that of other ladies in my rank of life, and
furnishes a reasonable explanation for behaviour which would else
seem unaccountable. To a person of this disposition, monotony,
dullness, and boredom in every shape are of course absolutely
intolerable; consequently I do not believe that any position
involving these drawbacks will ever content me for long, even
though it may, in other respects, afford every advantage that the
heart of man (or woman) can desire. And having supplied the reader
with this much clue to a comprehension of the character of the
individual whose story lies before him, I leave all further judgment
upon me to be pronounced according to what is found in the pages of
this veracious history, wherein I purpose faithfully to depict
myself exactly as I appear in my own eyes, and as my life shows
me to be.

A person's identity is materially affected (as regards both himself
and others) by that of the immediate ancestors without whom he or
she would not have existed at all; so the first step towards my
self-introduction must obviously be to state my parentage.

My father, Sir Anthony Trecastle, a gentleman of small fortune
serving in the Life Guards, was employed in London discharging the
not very onerous duties expected from an officer of Heavies in time
of peace, when he became acquainted and enamoured with a daughter of
Lord Gilbert's. Sir Anthony's means were not sufficiently large for
him to be reckoned anything of a matrimonial catch in that set of
society to which both he and the young lady he admired belonged. He
had enough to live upon, however, besides being a tenth baronet,
rather good-looking, and the representative of a family whose name
was to be found in the Domesday Book; therefore her relations and
friends considered him to be a respectable though not brilliant
match, made no attempt to interfere either for or against his suit,
and left her perfectly free to please herself as to the answer it
should receive. It was long before she could make up her mind in the
matter; but, after considering it for more than a year, she at last
determined to accept him. What may have moved her to do this of
course I cannot say; but all I know of her character makes me think
it more likely for the decision to have resulted from a reasonable
and deliberate consideration of matrimonial pros and cons than from
any love for her husband. Those who knew her well believed her to be
so singularly cold and indifferent as never to have warmed into real
love for any living creature during her whole life. And not only do
my own recollections of her corroborate this opinion, but also I may
say that I myself am a living argument to prove it true, inasmuch as
I, too, am unusually exempt from the affectionate, tender emotions
to which most men and women are liable; and it seems reasonable to
suppose that this extraordinary cold-heartedness of mine must have
been inherited from her.

I am sure it is an inheritance for which I have had much reason to be
thankful; for I have no doubt it has saved me from many a folly that
I should otherwise have committed. A warm-hearted, soft, affectionate
disposition is a possession which I have never coveted. It has
generally seemed to me to be a cause of weakness rather than of
strength to its owner; and besides, it is very apt to hinder and
stunt the development of that source of delight--the spirit of
enterprise.

This, however, is somewhat of a digression, as the extent to which
my mother may have cared for my father does not much concern this
narrative; at any rate she liked him sufficiently well to marry him,
and that is all with which we need trouble ourselves here. He sold
out of the army soon afterwards, and took his bride to reside at
Castle Manor, as his country place was called; there I, their only
child, was born. Had I been a boy it was intended to call me Gilbert,
in honour of my maternal grandfather's title; as, however, I was a
girl, and as my parents still wished to adhere as far as possible
to their original intention of naming their first-born after the
Gilbert peerage, the name was adapted to my sex by the addition of
three letters, and thus I received at my christening the somewhat
uncouth appellation of Gilbertina. As this was obviously too much of
a mouthful to be convenient for common domestic use, an abbreviation
was inevitable, and the first one bestowed upon me was Jill. But this
did not find favour with my mother. She declared it was ugly, and
objectionably suggestive of low, republican ideas, such as carrying
pails of water, rough tumbles, and cracked crowns; therefore Jill was
condemned and Ina substituted, as a more graceful and aristocratic
manner of shortening my name.

Though I allude to this small matter, because Jill was the name to
which I afterwards returned, yet I do not purpose to dwell long upon
the history of my life up to the age of eighteen, at which period I
launched out boldly upon an independent career. Still, however, the
earlier stages cannot be left altogether unnoticed, as the events
which took place then naturally have a bearing upon subsequent ones,
and also may be thought interesting for the part they probably played
in the moulding of my character.

Was I born destitute of the ordinary instincts of filial affection--in
which case, be it observed, that it would be most unjust to blame me
for what was simply a natural deficiency? Or is the fault of my
defect in that way to be charged to my parents for having done
nothing to develop the above-mentioned instinct? Anyhow, whatever
the cause may have been, certain it is that they and I were mutually
indifferent, and never saw more of one another than we could possibly
help. They went their way, and I went mine, and the less we came in
contact the better was I pleased. I regarded my mother as a sort of
stranger whom the accident of inhabiting the same house caused me to
see oftener than any other stranger, and who had an authority over me
and my affairs which was decidedly irksome, because our opinions as
to what it was right and fitting that I should do or not do were
always at variance with one another. She disliked untidiness,
whereas I revelled in being in a mess. Consequently she aggravated
me continually by insisting on my going off to wash my face and hands
or have my clothes put tidy, when I thought they did very well as
they were, and would have preferred staying where I was. Again,
mud-larking, and many other of my favourite occupations which
brought about a torn and dirty state of garments, were strictly
forbidden by her, to my great annoyance. Imagining the restriction
to be imposed solely in the interests of my clothes, I well remember
how rejoiced I was one day when I thought I had hit upon a plan for
enjoying myself after my own fashion without offending against her
code, and how disappointed I was when my scheme proved a failure. I
was about ten years old at the time, and was standing at the edge of
a small stream, longing with my whole heart to go and paddle about in
it, when it suddenly struck me that, as the edict against mud-larking
and similar amusements was grounded upon the harm they did to my
apparel, there could certainly be no objection to them provided
nothing suffered except my own skin--that being an article which
was surely of no consequence to any one but myself. Inspired by
this brilliant idea, I immediately took off my shoes, stockings,
gloves, and drawers, turned my sleeves back to the shoulder, wound
my petticoats round my waist, and plunged into the stream; there I
waded about with the utmost satisfaction, constructing mud-docks and
sailing bark-boats without in the least minding the cuts and bruises
inflicted on my bare feet by stones, or the numerous scratches which
my unprotected arms and legs received from overhanging bushes and
brambles. What did that matter when I was having such a glorious
mud-lark? And I enjoyed the fun all the more because I believed
fondly that I had a prospect of plenty more of the same kind in the
future, now that I had so cleverly discovered the way to get over the
objection that had hitherto interfered with it. It must be clearly
impossible for any one to find fault with a proceeding which exposed
nothing but my own flesh to risks of rents and dirt.

Alas! however, I was destined speedily to be undeceived. My mother,
hearing how I had been engaged, gave me a tremendous scolding,
declaring that she was quite shocked at me, and that if ever I
did such a thing again I should be punished. For my part, I was
perfectly amazed at this indignation, which seemed to me totally
unreasonable, as I could not imagine what harm I had done. And the
incident, like all others connected with her, strengthened the sulky
injured feeling I had of being always wrong in her eyes. No matter
what I might wish to do, she would forbid it, I thought.

I do not know that she was wilfully unkind to me, perhaps; but she
certainly never was actively kind; and she stands out in my memory as
a cold hard figure with which I could not come in contact without
finding myself thwarted in some way or other, and being deprived of
some pleasure. "Don't do that!" is a sentence odious in childish
ears; and as that was the sentence that I heard oftener than any
other from her lips, I naturally got into the habit of avoiding her
company as much as possible--which was all the easier to manage
because she had as little wish for my society as I had for hers, and
only endured me with her at all, I think, out of regard to the
_convenances_ of English life. Never once do I remember her to have
taken the trouble to supply me with any pleasures which she approved
of to replace those which she prohibited; nor did she ever bestow
upon me presents, indulgences, or marks of affection. Though she
never attempted to teach me anything herself, yet she had me do
lessons, and insisted on my learning needlework, which was my
especial aversion; and I knew she was the source for the tasks I
hated, even though she did not personally impose them on me.

Such being the terms on which she and I stood to one another, is it
to be wondered at that I should have feared and disliked her?

I was about twelve years old when she died. As I had by that time
read with great interest a large number of juvenile story-books of
the exaggerated sentimental and goody kind, I was thoroughly well
up in the behaviour to be expected from any girl-heroine on the
occurrence of such an event. I knew that her father would at once
become the great object of her life, and that she would devote
herself utterly to the task of comforting him and endeavouring to
replace Her (with a capital H) who was gone. Though the girl would
of course be herself well-nigh crushed with grief, and indulge in
paroxysms of sobs and tears whenever she was alone, yet she would
heroically repress any public manifestation of distress, lest the
knowledge and sight of it should increase that of her surviving
parent. Her zeal on his behalf would know no bounds, and lead her
to neglect the most ordinary precautions against illness for
herself. This would appear in some absurd and wholly uncalled for
act of self-devotion--such as sitting motionless for hours in a
thorough draught and wet through, lest the sound of her moving
might awake him as he slept in the next room, or something equally
ridiculous; and by a few insane performances of the same kind the way
would easily be paved for the invariably thrilling climax. A pillow
bedewed nightly with tears; knife-like stabs of pain returning with
increasing frequency; blood-spitting neglected and kept secret; pangs
mental and bodily, concealed under a cheerful exterior; there could
be but one conclusion to such symptoms as these. The overtaxed
strength would collapse suddenly; consumption, decline, heart
disease, or some other alarming illness, would ensue; and then there
would be either a few harrowing deathbed scenes, or else a miraculous
recovery and happy marriage of the heroine; in this last case her
spouse would of course be some paragon young man, who should be in
every respect ideally perfect, and thoroughly able to appreciate and
do justice to the treasure whom he had been so fortunate as to win
for a wife.

So invariably did this style of thing take place whenever the heroine
lost her mother in the books which I had devoured greedily without
perceiving how morbid and exaggerated they were, and without doubting
their being faithful representations of human nature, that I had a
sort of hazy impression of its being the inevitable accompaniment
of that loss, whatever might have been the terms hitherto existing
between the parties concerned. The folly of supposing that I could
feel deep regret for a person whom I had always avoided as much as
possible never occurred to me, and I was disposed to believe that
what was described in the stories was an indispensable sequence of
events that came after one another as naturally as spring follows
winter, and summer follows spring. In that case, I too, must expect
to undergo the regular course of emotions like every one else. It
would be a decidedly novel and mysterious experience, and one that
I was by no means sure would be pleasant, and I looked out anxiously
for the first indications of its approach as though it had been
some kind of sickness with which I was threatened. A gush of poignant
grief for my mother, an intense yearning over and pity for my father,
sleepless nights and untasted meals, were, I knew, the correct
preliminaries to the state of affairs that I was anticipating. Two
or three days passed, however, and I found to my surprise that I had
still no inability to sleep and eat as usual; no alteration in my
former feelings about my parents, either living or deceased; nor any
other reason to think I was about to behave in the same manner as
those sentimental young ladies about whom I had read. Then I became
perplexed as to the cause of this difference between me and them.
I had taken it for granted that the stories showed exactly how
human beings in general thought, felt, and acted; but how came it
then that I, who was unquestionably a human being, should find my
own experience of a great occasion of this kind so different from
what the books depicted? The only way of accounting for it was by
supposing either that they were not as true to nature as I
had believed, or else that I must be unlike the rest of my
fellow-creatures; and as it did not at all please me to consider
myself an abnormal variety of the human species, I adopted the former
theory as the probable explanation of what puzzled me. No one,
thought I, ever dreams of judging fairy-tales by the standard of
real life; and no doubt those stories that I fancied were true are
in reality only fairy-tales in disguise. The characters are not real
men and women, but only make-believe ones; and they are really just
as impossible as if they were called ogres, gnomes, elves, magicians,
or something of that kind.

It was a relief to me to arrive at this conclusion, and realise that
there was no likelihood of my following in the steps of the
afore-mentioned fictitious damsels, for, however attractive their
experiences might be to read about, I had had very considerable
misgivings as to whether I should find them equally pleasant to
undergo in my own person. I may add that I am sure my incapacity
for imitating them was a most fortunate circumstance for my father;
he would, I am convinced, have been at his wits ends to know what
to do with a daughter of the story-book stamp, and would have been
unutterably taken aback and annoyed at any hysterical demonstrations
of devotion or attachment on my part.



                            CHAPTER II.

                          FOREIGN TRAVEL.


It is time to say a few words as to what my father was like.
Intensely selfish, and hating trouble, he was also extremely
sociable, jovially disposed, easily amused, and endowed with an
enviable facility for shaking off whatever was disagreeable. He
seemed to consider everything unpleasant, dull, sad, or gloomy, as
a sort of poisonous external application which must be got rid of
promptly, lest it should get absorbed into the system. Consequently
he never allowed anything to make a deeper impression on him than
he could help. And in order to escape at once from the depressing
influences of his wife's death he resolved to go abroad immediately
after the funeral, and stay away for a good long time, wandering from
place to place where his fancy took him, so as to distract his mind
from all possibility of melancholy by a complete change of scene and
life.

As he did not see the use of keeping up an establishment in England
during his absence, he determined to let Castle Manor. Then came the
question of what was to be done with me under these circumstances?
His relations assured him that the best plan would be to send me to
school somewhere till he should again be settled in his own home.
After reflecting for a day on this suggestion, he considerably
astonished those who had made it by announcing that he meant to take
me abroad with him. Such a determination was certainly surprising on
the part of one who could not endure trouble, and had no affection
for me. But the fact was that since his marriage he had got so much
accustomed to the feeling that there was some one belonging to him
always within reach, that he did not now like to live quite alone
again; and therefore he thought he might as well have me handy as a
last resource to fall back upon for company when none other should be
attainable. Wherever he went, therefore, there I went also; and for
that reason we were supposed by many people to be wholly wrapped up
in one another, and a touching example of parental and filial
attachment. I accidentally overheard some remarks to that effect made
one day by a couple of compatriots staying at the same hotel as
ourselves at Naples; and, child as I was, I remember that I laughed
cynically to think how wide of the truth they were, and what fools
people were to be so ready to judge from appearances. For though he
chose to have me living under the same roof as himself, yet he never
had any wish for my society if he could pick up any one else to talk
to, and walk, ride, drive, or make expeditions with; and as his
sociability and geniality made it easy to him to make acquaintance
and fraternise with strangers, he was not often dependent upon me
for companionship; so that I was left very much to myself, and
spent the greater part of the time in solitude, or with my attendant
who was a sort of cross between nursery-governess and maid.

We moved about from place to place for two or three years, rarely
staying long anywhere, and not once returning to England. This roving
existence had a great charm for me, notwithstanding its frequent
loneliness, and was infinitely more to my taste than would have been
the orthodox schoolroom routine that falls to the lot of most girls
between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Doubtless, too, it had a
good deal of influence on the formation of my character; for the
perpetual motion and change of scene in which I delighted could
hardly fail to foster my inborn restlessness and love of adventure,
as well as to develop whatever natural tendencies I possessed towards
self-reliance, independence, and intolerance of restraint.

Meanwhile my education, as may be supposed, pursued a somewhat
erratic course, and my standard of attainments would, I fear, have
by no means been considered satisfactory by Mrs. Grundy. A life
passed in hotels, _pensions_, and lodgings is unfavourable to regular
studies; and, besides that, there was no one, after my mother's
death, who cared sufficiently about my intellectual or moral progress
to take the trouble of insisting on lessons being persevered with,
whether I liked them or not. Consequently I learnt anything that took
my fancy, and left alone everything else. On some out-of-the-way
subjects I was better informed than the majority of my contemporaries;
but then, on the other hand, I was ignorant of much that every
schoolgirl is expected to know. My ideas, for instance, as to
religious matters were extremely vague. I was but slightly acquainted
with the contents of either the Bible or Prayer Book; never thought
of religion as a thing with which I, personally, had to do; had not
a notion of what constituted the differences between one form of
religious belief and another; and never attended any place of worship
except when some grand function was to come off. All I cared for in
such a place was to listen to the music, and stare at the lights,
vestments, decorations, ceremonial, and crowd; therefore I only went
on great festivals, or when some especially prized relic was to be
exhibited, or other unusual attraction offered; and, of course, I
became more familiar with the interior of Roman Catholic churches
and chapels than any other.

What accomplishments I possessed were such as would have qualified
me well enough for a courier, and I think that I could have earned
my livelihood in that line of business without much difficulty after
I had been abroad for a while. I could speak several languages
fluently, besides having a smattering of a few more, and of two or
three _patois_; I was well up in the relative values of foreign
coins, and capable of making a bargain even with such slippery
individuals as drivers, jobmasters, _laquais-de-place_, or boatmen.
Besides that, I was so thoroughly at home in railway stations that I
could find my way about in any hitherto-unvisited one almost by
instinct; I could usually tell, to within a few minutes, the exact
time when any _rapide_ or _grande-vitesse_ was due to start from
Paris for Spain, Germany, Italy, or the Mediterranean; when it ought
to reach its destination; and at about what hour it would be at the
more important towns on its route; and I had quite mastered the
intricacies of the _English and Foreign Bradshaw_, _Livret-Chaix_,
and works of a similarly perplexing kind, so as to be able to
discover easily whatever information they could afford. My expertness
in this way was chiefly owing to a happy thought that came into my
head at Bayonne one day when I happened to be left alone for the
afternoon with nothing to do, and no book whatever available except
a railway guide. The prospect till night was not an exhilarating one,
and I was disconsolately wondering how to get through the time, when
it suddenly occurred to me that I would play at being about to start
for St. Petersburg, or some other remote place, and obliged to look
out the best and fastest way of getting there. I set to work
accordingly with the railway guide, and became so engrossed in the
game I had invented that I forgot all about the passage of time, and
was quite astonished to find how quickly the afternoon slipped away
whilst I was settling various journeys to my satisfaction. Such an
easily-attainable means of amusement was a glorious discovery to me,
and one which I commend to the notice of other travellers as a
resource for wet weather and dull moments. Henceforth I had no dread
of lacking amusement, provided I had a time-table; and many a long
hour have I beguiled in planning skeleton tours to all kinds of
places--poring over the times of arrival and departure of trains,
diligences, steamers, and other public conveyances, and weighing in
my own mind the prices and comparative merits of various routes with
every bit as much care and attention as though the imaginary journey
under consideration were a reality, and I were the sole person
responsible to make arrangements for it. This employment had for me
something of the same sort of fascination that working out a problem
in algebra has for some people--indeed I do not think the two things
are greatly unlike each other in their natures.

Besides the accomplishments I have mentioned, I had also some ideas
as to foreign cookery, which I picked up here and there on our
travels--chiefly on the rare occasions when we were in lodgings
anywhere. I do not think I ever met any mistress of a lodging-house
abroad who did not pride herself particularly upon her cooking of
some one dish (sometimes more than that, but at least one), and who
was not willing to initiate into its mysteries any lodger who evinced
a proper appreciation of its excellence. There was an old woman at
Genoa, I remember, at whose house we stayed for some weeks, who knew
several delicious ways of dressing macaroni and vegetables, and who
not only allowed me to watch her whilst she cooked, and gave me her
favourite recipes, but even stretched her good nature so far as to
let me try my own hand in the kitchen till I could join practice to
theory, and produce a tolerably successful result for my labours. She
was a kindly, motherly old soul, who was impressed with the notion
that there was something peculiarly forlorn and provocative of pity
in my condition; she generally called me _poverina_ (to my amusement),
and took me under her protection from an early stage of our
acquaintance.

"See, _Signorina_," she said to me on the second morning of our
occupying her apartments, "you will no doubt wish to buy velvet
here--as all the English do--and many other things also. But be
guided by me, and go not to buy alone, or you will most certainly be
cheated. No! when you see the thing that you desire, come to me--take
me to where it is--point it out to me quietly. Then will I go forward
as though to buy it for myself, and so shall you procure it at a
reasonable price. You who understand not the modes of our merchants,
would pay nearly, or perhaps even altogether--for there is no saying
how far the folly of an English person may go!--the amount that they
demand for their goods. But as for me!--ah! _I_ know how to arrange
these people, and you shall see what I will do! I dare to flatter
myself that there is not a man or woman in the whole of Genoa who
can get the better of me in a bargain!"

Experience soon showed me that this was no idle vaunt. Though--to her
great disappointment--I declined to buy any velvet, yet I gladly
availed myself of her services for other purchases, and never in my
life, either before or since, have I met with any one who was her match
in bargaining. She never bought anything at a shop or stall without
having taken a final farewell and departed from it at least twice,
and then suffered herself to be brought back by the persuasions of
the owner; I think she regarded this going away and returning as
quite a necessary part of the negotiation, without which it could not
possibly come to a proper conclusion. At all events her efforts were
invariably successful, and she forced shopkeepers, market-people,
and sellers of every sort with whom she had dealings, to accept
reductions of price which seemed to me almost incredible. Meanwhile
I, in whose behalf she was exerting herself, used merely to assist
as a passive spectator, feeling that my knowledge of mankind was
being enlarged, and that I was gaining a valuable insight into the
amount of dishonesty and cunning that was latent in human beings in
general, and Italians in particular. This was especially my feeling
when, as more than once happened, I perceived that my friend herself
was not altogether exempt from the failings of her country-people;
and that, relying on my knowledge of Italian being less than it
really was, she was making a little profit at my expense out of the
transaction she was conducting for me. This was a fresh revelation
of the depravity of human nature, and impressed upon my youthful mind
the folly of trusting absolutely to any professions of friendship,
however genuine they might appear. But, after all, it was not to be
expected that she would take a great deal of trouble for a stranger
gratuitously and out of pure love; besides that, she allowed no one
except herself to cheat me, so that in the end my pocket was saved,
notwithstanding the commissions that she managed adroitly to retain
for her own benefit; and as, furthermore, I derived much instruction
from her in the art of bargaining, I saw that on the whole I was a
gainer by her help, and had nothing to complain of. So I let her act
for me as before, chuckling inwardly at her vehement denunciations
of the roguery that surrounded us, and not telling her of what I had
discovered regarding her own.

I remember but little of most of the innumerable people with whom my
father was continually making acquaintance; they seemed to me to come
and go in endless succession, having to do with us only for a few
days or hours, and then vanishing into space, with about as much
likelihood of our ever seeing them again as though we had all been so
many dead leaves whirled away by gales from opposite directions. But
there was one of these stray acquaintances who made more impression
on me than the rest, and whom I mention here because of the relations
which she and I were destined to have together in the future--little
as we then suspected it.

Kitty Mervyn, the individual in question, was a girl of about a year
older than myself, clever, vivacious, and agreeable, and promising to
be very good-looking by the time she should be seventeen. She and I
were cousins in some far-off degree, because her father, Lord Mervyn,
was a cousin many times removed of my grandfather, Lord Gilbert. The
cousinship, however, was so remote that we did not know of each
other's existence; and my father and the Mervyns had never happened
to meet until they arrived one evening at the hotel at which we
were staying at Lugano. Then the distant connection served as an
introduction between us; and as the next day was a dreary wet Sunday,
the feeling of ennui and desire to kill time that was common to us
all, led to our seeing more of one another than we should probably
have done otherwise. Kitty and I paired off together naturally, as
being nearly of the same age. As far as I can recollect, we spent
most of the day in watching and laughing at the performances of
some embryo bicyclists, who were too enthusiastic to be deterred
by either rain or frequent tumbles, and who went on grinding
perseveringly on their bicycles up and down a bit of road in sight
of our windows which was their practice-ground. We did not find it
very lively, certainly; but then there was nothing else to do, unless
we had struck up a romantic friendship and exchanged sentimental
confidences--as some girls thus situated would have done--and
neither she nor I were at all disposed for that sort of thing. Our
intercourse lasted only for that one day, as next morning the Mervyns
departed south, whilst we went to Como. But in the short time I had
been with Kitty she had somehow made a stronger impression than usual
on my unimpressionable mind, and the recollection of her lingered in
my memory longer than that of any one else whom we met. Her good
looks attracted me; her cleverness and liveliness made her very good
company. Notwithstanding an incipient haughtiness about her, which
might develop as she grew older, perhaps, she seemed at present
to have a decided capacity for being what I called jolly; and,
altogether, she had given me the idea of being remarkably likeable. I
was sorry that the chances of travel made us separate so soon, and
wondered if she was at all inclined to return the liking which I had
taken to her. But she passed out of my head after a while; and it was
only now and then that I recollected her existence, and thought how
pleasant it would be if we happened to meet again some day.



                            CHAPTER III.

                        A WIDOW'S MANŒUVRES.


The life of travelling companion to my father being very much to my
taste, I was naturally disgusted at its coming to a conclusion. This
happened when I was about fifteen, and was caused by an event to
which I objected strongly, and which was destined to have a most
important effect on my subsequent existence.

We were making a tour through Holland and Friesland, and, when at
Amsterdam, happened to make acquaintance with a Mrs. Grove, a widow,
accompanied by two daughters, who were respectively two and three
years older than me. I did not take to her at all, and thought she
seemed a flattering, lying, pushing, cringing, vulgar individual; but
having carelessly thought that much of her, I dismissed her from my
mind as a person with whom I had nothing to do, and whose character
was quite immaterial to me--little thinking what a _bête noire_
she was to prove to me afterwards!

She was on the look-out for a successor for the deceased Mr. Grove;
and as my father appeared to her to be a very suitable person for the
vacancy, she began at once to lay siege to his affections. She did
not, however, wish to show her hand too plainly at first, by attaching
herself to us so openly as to make it obvious that she meant to pursue
us from place to place. Therefore, the plan she adopted was, to
discover, by apparently careless questioning, whither Sir Anthony's
wayward fancy was likely to take him next; having done this, she would
direct her own course to the same district, go to some principal
town in it which we should be pretty sure to visit sooner or later,
wait for us there, and then pretend to be greatly surprised when we
arrived, and to consider the meeting a purely accidental one. For
instance, my father intended to go from Friesland to Münster, which he
considered would be good headquarters whence to go to the neighbouring
town of Soest, where he wanted to see the _Wiesen Kirche_, and other
specimens of Gothic architecture. He had spoken of this in Mrs. Grove's
presence, so that she was quite aware of his intentions in the matter.
Consequently there occurred what she called a curious coincidence,
as she also was moved by the self-same thirst for archaeological
studies at that particular time; and thus when we reached Münster from
Winschoten, we found her already installed in the former city before
us. At Cassel and at Frankfort did we again fall in with her; and on
the very first night of our being at Heidelberg she and her daughters
joined us under the walls of the old castle, as we sauntered about in
the dark and admired the brilliant fireflies.

Sir Anthony was too much a man of the world to ascribe these
perpetually recurring meetings entirely to chance, and soon began to
have a shrewd suspicion of the widow's intentions. Then he took to
amusing himself with her, withholding information as to his movements
when she cross-questioned him about them, putting her on a wrong
scent, and otherwise baffling her curiosity. Once or twice he joked
about the matter with me (towards whom she affected extreme
friendliness), and asked me whether I thought she wanted him as a
match for herself or for one of the daughters? This behaviour of his
calmed the state of perturbation into which I had been previously
thrown; for I was most indignant at the notion of her wanting to
marry him, and was in a terrible fright lest she should succeed. For
one thing the mere idea of a stepmother was repugnant to me--be she
who she might; and besides that, I had not the slightest confidence
in the sincerity of Mrs. Grove's demonstrations of affection for me,
which were, I felt sure, only assumed in order to ingratiate herself
with my father; for I saw that she--like every one else--was misled
by appearances, and took it for granted that a man who insisted on
taking his daughter with him wherever he went, must be so devoted to
her as to be certain to entertain kindly feelings towards any one who
should appear fond of her. But my anxiety was relieved when I found
that he was by no means blind to her designs, and was quite ready to
laugh at them openly, and to take a mischievous pleasure in teasing
her. That reassured me, and made me feel satisfied that her labours
were in vain, and that I had nothing to apprehend from them.

This easy tranquillisation of my fears just showed my youth and
inexperience. Had I been somewhat older I should have known what
irresistible power over men almost all widows possess--which is the
natural result of the insight into man's nature that they have
acquired already, during their first matrimonial experiences. Mrs.
Grove was no exception to the rule, and was as dangerous a widow as
need be--having a thorough knowledge of the weaknesses of the male
character and of the way to humour them, and understanding perfectly
how to make herself agreeable to any lord of creation whom fortune
might throw in her way.

It was no part of her tactics to leave Sir Anthony long in doubt that
it was for herself, and not for either of her daughters, that she
desired to captivate his affections. She was certainly vulgar; but
as, also, she was a comely, well-preserved woman of little more than
forty, who looked rather less than her age, it tickled his vanity
pleasantly to find himself attractive to her; and notwithstanding
his having ridiculed her for setting her cap at him, he did not,
nevertheless, altogether dislike it in the bottom of his heart. It
was true that he had not previously contemplated marrying again;
but then that was only because he had not yet met any particular
person to suggest the thought to him since my mother's death; and
he had been sufficiently occupied and amused with his travels for
the notion not to have occurred to him of itself. Now, however,
that the idea was thus put into his head, he began to reflect upon
the matter seriously; the more he considered it--being all the while
insensibly influenced in its favour by the flattering attentions and
blandishments of the widow--the more favourably did he regard it,
and presently came to the conclusion that a wife was really almost
indispensable to his comfort. He could forgive a little vulgarity
provided she had money to gild it; and, feeling that Mrs. Grove's
pecuniary circumstances had become suddenly interesting to him, he
began putting out feelers on the subject when talking to her. He
imagined himself to be going to work most diplomatically, and to have
artfully concealed the true motive of his questions and remarks; but
the widow was more than a match for him. She at once detected his
curiosity, and guessed the reason for it; and managed cleverly to
impress him with the idea that her jointure and settlements were
considerably larger than was the actual case. Whether or not she
would have accomplished her purpose without this stratagem, it is
impossible to say; but, at any rate, it did what she intended it to
do, and brought matters to a climax. The belief that a rich wife was
to be had, and that it would be foolish of him to miss such an
opportunity, put an end to his irresolution. He proposed, and was
accepted; and within two months from the time that they were
introduced to each other at Amsterdam, she succeeded in attaining
what she desired, and became Lady Trecastle.

Her ladyship, being a thorough John Bull at heart, had no great
fondness for foreign places and people. She had come to the continent
because she believed it to be a likely hunting-ground whereon to find
a husband; and as soon as she had secured her prey she did not care
about staying abroad any longer. Another thing that made her wish to
return to her native land was, that she was extremely proud of the
newly-acquired handle to her name, and was burning to air it amongst
those who would properly appreciate it; for what country is there in
Europe, Asia, or Africa (about America I say nothing), where a title
produces so much effect, and is so bowed down to and worshipped as in
that abode of snobs--England? Therefore, as soon as she was engaged
to Sir Anthony, she determined to endeavour to make him give up his
nomadic existence, return home, and settle there. By way of paving
the way in this direction she would reproach him, half in jest and
half in earnest, for being an absentee, and having no proper
patriotic spirit; or else she would deliver a harangue upon the
roguery of most agents, and the folly of leaving property to be
managed by them instead of looking after it in person; and with these
and similar observations, she sought to bring him to wish himself
to do the thing that she desired should be done. Finding him
more inclined to listen to her than she had expected, she grew
bolder, and passed from hints to a more direct expression of her
desires. He was evidently not greatly averse to discontinue his
foreign rambles, as I perceived with sorrow. The fact was that he had
only gone abroad because my mother's death gave him gloomy and
disagreeable associations with his house, and on that account he had
taken a temporary dislike to it; but his facility for getting rid of
whatever was unpleasant had made him quite shake off that feeling of
dislike by now. Before long Mrs. Grove had worked upon him so
far that he began even to feel eager to return home, and to look
forward with pleasurable anticipation to the idea of showing the
place to its new mistress, and introducing her to the society of
the neighbourhood.

I said what I could to oppose going back to England whenever I had
an opportunity; but alas! what chance had I against the influence of
the widow? Of course she carried her point without difficulty; and,
to my great grief, notice to quit was sent to the tenants of Castle
Manor. It so happened that there were accidental circumstances which
made it convenient to the tenants to leave at once, without waiting
for the expiration of the term of the notice, and thus the house was
vacated at an unexpectedly early date. No sooner was this the case
than Sir Anthony and Lady Trecastle returned home and established
themselves there, accompanied by their joint families, which
consisted of Margaret Grove, aged eighteen; Jane Grove, aged
seventeen; and myself, aged rather more than fifteen.



                            CHAPTER IV.

                           A TIGHT CURB.


When an indolent, easy-going, trouble-hating man, such as my father,
marries an energetic, bustling, authority-loving woman, such as Mrs.
Grove, it is not hard to foresee which of the two will bear rule in
the establishment. A very brief acquaintance with Sir Anthony
sufficed to show the widow that, with a little management on her
part, she would be able to govern the household as she liked; that as
long as he was kept amused he would not bother himself to interfere
with her arrangements; and that all she need do in order to keep the
reins entirely in her own hands, was to take care that her way and
his were identical in whatever affected his personal comfort--she
would then be free to please herself as far as all other things were
concerned. She was not, at first, altogether easy in her mind as to
how he would bear the discovery of what the real state of her money
matters was; which discovery, as she knew, he must inevitably make
soon, and might possibly cause him to be seriously angry with her.
But she need not have feared this with a man of his disposition, who
never worried himself about anything that could not be helped. Though
he was, undoubtedly, much annoyed to find how much poorer she was
than he had supposed, yet he reflected, with his usual philosophy,
that it was no use making a fuss about it, now that he had married
her, and that what could not be altered had better be made the best
of. So he gulped down the disappointment with a wry face or two, and
did not attempt to make her suffer for her deceitfulness as she
deserved.

As soon as she was satisfied on this head, and felt that she was
established in her seat securely, she turned her attention to me--who
would infinitely have preferred being let alone. I had never trusted
to the sincerity of the professions of affection she had lavished on
me in the early stages of our acquaintance, when she had imagined me
to be my father's especial pet; and it speedily became evident that
this distrust of mine had been well founded. She thought it quite
worth while taking trouble to keep the master of the house in good
humour, and would study and humour his likes and dislikes in the most
amiable manner possible. But she saw no reason for extending the same
consideration to a mere insignificant nobody; and when she had
discovered how little he cared for me, and that she might do as she
pleased regarding me and my affairs without danger of interference
from him, she proceeded to take my education in hand, and conduct it
according to her own notions. As her ideas on the subject and mine
were entirely different, and as the more she and I saw of one another
the more we disliked each other, the result of this meddling of hers
was fatal to my comfort. And the two or three years following my
father's second marriage were so horribly dull and tedious to me that
I cannot recall them without a shudder.

Everything seemed to go against me from the time of that wedding. In
the first place, I resented having a stepmother, and finding myself
forced suddenly into terms of intimacy with the three strangers (her
and her two daughters) who had all at once become part of my family.
Then came the termination of the foreign wanderings that I had found
so pleasant. And now came the culminating misery of being under the
commands of a selfish, vulgar, lying, bullying, stingy, pretentious,
plausible, tyrannical woman, whom I could not endure, and who fully
returned my dislike.

I had an unlucky knack of perpetually irritating her, and was always
sure to be in the wrong in her eyes. Either I said or did something
that was contrary to her notions of what I ought to have said or
done; or I scandalised her by displaying grievous ignorance of some
subject which she deemed an essential branch of knowledge; or else I
shocked her prejudices in some other way. She was not the woman to
put up quietly with offences of this kind in her own household, and
proceeded without delay to attempt to remedy my deficiencies.
Accordingly she informed my father that she considered my mental
condition to have been neglected terribly; that I had been allowed to
run wild till I was very nearly ruined; and that she saw no chance of
my ever becoming a properly behaved young lady and decent member of
society unless a governess were procured for me immediately, and I
were kept strictly to the schoolroom until such time as I should
come out. Should she, therefore, engage a governess? My father,
as usual, made no objection to a proposal which would in no way
interfere with his own comfort. All he said was that she could do
just as she thought best about it; that he did not himself see much
to complain of in me, and had thought I was not at all bad company,
considering my youth; but that he had no doubt she understood
better than him what was necessary for girls, and that whatever she
did was sure to be right.

Armed with this permission, she at once took steps to carry out her
intention, and a few days afterwards announced to me the contemplated
innovation.

"Your father and I have agreed, Ina," she said, "that it is high
time to make a change in your present mode of life--you need to be
put into harness for a bit and broken in. Therefore, I have engaged
a governess for you, and she will be here next week. What I wish
to impress upon you now is, that when she comes you must do what
she tells you, and that I shall expect you to pass your time with
her. I do not approve of your fondness for sitting in your own
room; nor yet of your habit of appearing continually amongst us
elders when there are visitors here, just as if you were grown up
and already introduced into society! The drawing-room is not the
proper place for a girl of your age. Remember that in future you
are to remain always in the schoolroom when indoors, and that, when
not at lessons, you must employ yourself there in some quiet and
ladylike pursuit--needlework perhaps, or something of that kind. And
when you go out you will walk with your governess, and not go
climbing trees, or digging out rabbits, or racing all over the place
like a wild thing, as you generally do."

The idea of being thus hampered and restrained filled me with dismay;
and in my despair I appealed to my father, in hopes that he would
protect my cherished liberty of action.

"Why should I have a governess at all?" I exclaimed to him; "I'm
sure I've got on very well without, for ever so long! But even if
I _am_ to have one, surely I may be free of the hateful thing out of
lesson-time, mayn't I? Just think how _horrid_ it would be to be
obliged to be always with her--sitting in the room with her all day,
and only going for stupid, straight-on-end grinds along the hard high
road with her when I go out! Do say that I'm not to be condemned to
that, at all events!"

No doubt I was a fool for my pains, and ought to have known better
than to suppose that I could move him to oppose his wife on my
behalf. So the event proved, for he declined to interfere in the
matter, and the only effect produced by my appeal was to strengthen
Lady Trecastle's hands by increasing her conviction of the extreme
unlikelihood of my father's ever paying attention to any complaint
that I might make to him. From that time forth, therefore, she felt
more secure than ever in her authority over me, and her tyranny
increased accordingly. When the governess arrived I was kept immured
in the schoolroom the greater part of each day, and was surrounded by
a variety of petty restraints and restrictions which were enough to
have worried any girl, and were especially vexatious and irksome to
one who had had the unusual amount of independence which I had been
enjoying of recent years. I found myself deprived of freedom; always
under _surveillance_; obliged to learn uninteresting lessons; bored;
and constantly tacked on to the petticoats of an individual whose
office of governess made her necessarily hateful in my eyes, however
charming--even angelic--she might really be. Of course such an
existence was perfectly odious to me, and I do not think that I could
have anyhow managed to endure it as long as I did, if I had not
fortunately hit upon a means whereby I could to some extent relieve
its dreary monotony. This resource consisted in victimising, to the
extent of my power, any rash female who had undertaken to instruct
me, playing off upon her ill-natured pranks of all kinds, and leaving
no stone unturned to make her life a burden to her till I had fairly
driven her out of the house.

What a dreadful confession of unamiability! some reader may, perhaps,
here exclaim. Well--I do not deny it. Be it remembered that the
purpose of this narrative is, not to set forth an imaginary picture
of virtue and excellence, but simply an accurate likeness of myself;
and I should evidently fail of accomplishing that purpose if I were
to conceal or gloss over those sentiments which I really entertained
and acted upon. But even if my behaviour _does_ lay me open to the
charge of unamiability, I do not think that that need be wondered at,
when the peculiarities of my natural disposition, of my bringing-up,
and of my whole circumstances, are taken into consideration.

The occupation of bullying and annoying my governesses to the utmost
possible extent had a double recommendation in my eyes. Not only did
it supply an ample field for my ingenuity, and give me something
amusing to think about in the dreary walks and long hours spent in
the schoolroom, but also it afforded me the satisfaction of
retaliation. I had a savage joy in knowing that I was able to pay off
my companion for some of the vexations that she was the means of
inflicting on me; and I relished the thought that even if I _did_
have a rough time myself, yet at all events I did not suffer alone.
Endless, therefore, were the tricks and practical jokes which I used
to devise and execute for the aggravation of whatever unlucky
individual happened to have taken charge of my education; and so
skilful was I in my operations that it was but seldom any piece of
mischief could be traced home to me, however greatly I might be
suspected of its authorship. I was an adept, too, at the art of
being extremely insulting and provoking without saying anything that
would seem a just cause of irritation if repeated to a third person.
I knew how to speak with an offensiveness of voice and manner which
gave an injurious significance to words that were in themselves
innocent; and by this method I have often succeeded in making a
governess wildly angry, although I had given her nothing tangible
that could be taken hold of and brought against me to substantiate a
charge of rudeness. If she complained that I had been impertinent, I
assumed an air of injured innocence, repeated exactly what I had
said, asked what harm there was in that? and declared that it was
very unfair to blame me because Miss so-and-so had chosen to fly
into a passion about nothing. In fact I was aggravating enough to
have provoked the patient Grizzel herself; and as governesses are
not much apt to be patient Grizzels in their relations to their
pupils (however gentle and long-suffering they may make themselves
appear to the heads of the establishment), our schoolroom was in a
constant state of turmoil and ferment, and there was a remarkable
difficulty in getting governesses to stay at Castle Manor. About a
month or six weeks was generally enough to disgust them with the
situation, and they rarely failed to give notice at the end of that
time. This was an event that always gave me a sensation of unmixed
satisfaction; as, for one thing, I then felt that I had scored a
fresh victory and routed another enemy, and also, I knew that the
arrival of her successor could not fail to bring some small amount
of variety into the monotonous routine of existence of which I was so
deadly tired.

But this constant change of governesses over which I rejoiced, and
which was chiefly my doing, was by no means equally agreeable to Lady
Trecastle. When an instructress went, it was she who had to procure a
successor, and she did not find it at all amusing to be incessantly
answering advertisements, writing for characters, and that sort of
thing. And as, notwithstanding the difficulty of ever actually
proving a misdemeanour against me, she had strong doubts of my
innocence, therefore she considered me responsible for the bother she
continually had about governesses, and regarded me with increased
disfavour on that account. She had the sense to suspect that there
would not be such endless storms in the schoolroom if the pupil were
not unusually unmanageable and turbulent; and, acting on that
opinion, she made several efforts to induce me to be more tractable,
in order that thereby she might be saved the trouble that my conduct
entailed upon her.

At one time she tried the effect of addressing serious rebukes and
admonitions to me; but I cared not one straw for them. Then she
increased the strictness of my confinement, and ordained that every
disturbance should always be followed by the loss of the next
half-holiday or other pleasure of which I might have a chance; but
still I remained unsubdued. Then a third method of overcoming me
suddenly struck her, and she one day wound up a lengthy scolding by
declaring that her patience was at an end, that she would _not_ stand
the perpetual commotions I caused any longer, and that the very next
time one occurred I should be packed off to some school at once.

Now it was all very well for her to talk big of sending me to school;
but in point of fact I felt pretty sure that she would do nothing of
the kind, because it was very convenient to her to have a governess
in the house on account of her own two daughters, for whom she did
not want to go to the expense of masters, and who often needed
assistance in the various accomplishments she wished them to acquire.
This assistance they were in the habit of receiving from whoever
happened to be in charge of me, though they were too old to be
regularly in the schoolroom, and as my going to school would remove
the ostensible reason for having a governess at Castle Manor, it was
not at all likely that she meant to do what she said.

But though she knew the threat to be an empty one, that did not at
all hinder her from uttering it. Being at her wits' end for something
to hold over me _in terrorem_, it suddenly occurred to her that a
girl who had always lived with her own belongings, as I had done,
would probably dread the notion of being sent away alone amongst
strangers, and that therefore the school project stood a very good
chance of awing me into submission.

Instead of that, however, I evinced such delight at the prospect as
took the wind out of her sails completely. I had not in reality the
slightest objection to school, because it would be a change, and
anything in the shape of a change would be welcome. And of course
my manifestations of delight were all the more exaggerated as I
perceived her annoyance at finding me look forward joyfully to the
thing she hoped I should have feared. Thus she was thoroughly
discomfited; and never again did I hear her say I was to go to
school, though I several times returned to the subject of myself,
asking to know when I was going, saying I hoped it would be soon,
etc. etc. I must say that I greatly enjoyed having triumphed over
her so completely; and I reflected with malicious pleasure on the
vexation and humiliation it must be to her to know that I had
detected the emptiness of her threat, and could henceforth look
down upon her with all the contempt which an utterer of such threats
is sure to inspire.

But though I did what I could to procure a little change and
excitement by making myself disagreeable, and plaguing my stepmother
and teachers, yet the tedium of my life was so great as to be almost
unendurable; and again and again did I consider the expediency of
putting an end to it by running away from home, and trusting to my
own resources for getting a livelihood. I used to meditate seriously
on how the thing was to be done, arranging every detail, foreseeing
and meeting probable obstacles, providing for possible contingencies,
and working the whole scheme out from beginning to end in my own
mind. It seemed to me quite feasible; and as I was not a bit afraid
of failure, or of what might happen to me when cast upon the world by
myself, I should certainly have put my idea into practice if there
had not been one consideration which deterred me and kept me where I
was. This was the thought that I was very nearly seventeen. At that
age I was convinced that girls invariably came out, and therefore
took it for granted that I should do so also. And as the yoke under
which I groaned would be broken before long in the natural course of
events, it seemed better to resign myself for the short space during
which I should still be subject to it, rather than to anticipate the
day of emancipation by so desperate a measure as running away from
home.

But in my calculations as to the time of my being brought out, I
had quite omitted one most important factor, viz. what might be my
stepmother's wishes in regard to that matter. These, as it happened,
were diametrically opposed to mine. She had no fancy to go about with
three young ladies in tow, nor did she feel inclined to risk spoiling
the matrimonial chances of Margaret or Jane by leaving either of them
at home, and taking me out with her instead. Therefore she intended
to keep me back in a state of pupilage as long as possible, and to
endeavour to get one or both of her own daughters married out of the
way before I should make my appearance in society. In consequence of
this private scheme of hers, the attainment of the age of seventeen,
from which I had hoped such great things, produced no amelioration in
my condition. I was astonished and disgusted to find that the days
and weeks dragged heavily on at lessons as before, and brought no
indications of the approach of that liberty to which I had looked
forward confidently. Of course, I was not going to stand this without
complaining, so I remonstrated with Lady Trecastle, declaring that
I was being treated very unfairly, that every girl came out at
seventeen, and that I ought now to be let to share equally with my
step-sisters in whatever invitations for balls, dinners, or other
gaieties might arrive at Castle Manor. My complaints were unheeded,
however, and my grievance remained unredressed. I was not fit to go
into society, she said; I was so untrained, stupid, disagreeable, and
bad-tempered, that she would be ashamed to take me out, and I must
positively remain in the schoolroom till my manners and temper should
be improved. Chafing and fretting under repeated disappointments, I
managed to get through another dreary year of monotony, but when my
eighteenth birthday arrived and found me still a prisoner in the
schoolroom, I resolved not to stand this treatment any longer. It
became evident to me that her ladyship destined me to play the part
of Cinderella. As I had no fancy for that _rôle_, and as I had not a
fairy godmother to come to my assistance, I must take the matter
into my own hands and act fairy godmother for myself. Therefore I
determined to execute the plan which I had already reflected upon
so often, and to run away from home and take my chance of what might
afterwards befall me.



                             CHAPTER V.

                          BREAKING LOOSE.


Had running away from home been a brand new idea that had never
before occurred to me, I daresay I should have had to postpone
carrying it out till I had had time to mature the design and
consider how it was to be accomplished. As it was, however, there
was no need for delay on that account, for I had pondered on the
subject often enough to be thoroughly familiar with it, and to have
discovered a variety of methods for executing the project. In all
these schemes there was one point which I had always kept steadily in
view, and that was the importance of so arranging my flight as to
secure myself a long start before my absence should be discovered. I
had but little fear of managing to evade pursuit, if only I could
get a good way ahead of it at first. I saw that the best means of
ensuring this would be to have the coast clear of authorities when I
took myself off. Therefore I determined to put off my departure for
a few days longer, in order to avail myself of a particularly
favourable opportunity which would then occur, as my father,
step-mother, and two step-sisters would be going to stay away for a
ball and other gaieties at a friend's house. When once they were out
of the way, there would be no one to interfere with me except my
governess, Miss Smith, and I thought it would be odd indeed if I
could not manage to get rid of her also somehow or other. Several
expedients whereby this might be effected soon suggested themselves
to me, and after a little consideration I made up my mind to try to
impose upon her with a sham telegram. She was a somewhat colourless
individual, much given to writing letters and reading novels,
nervous, easily fussed, sentimental, and possessing a sister named
Alice who kept a school at Carlisle, and to whom it was evident that
she was very much attached. Now I felt certain that if she believed
this beloved sister to be in need of her, nothing would induce her to
stay away, and that a telegraphic summons from Miss Alice Smith would
cause my Miss Smith to rush off to Carlisle as fast as trains would
take her there. Such a summons, therefore, I must contrive that she
should receive. The only difficulty about forging the telegram I
required for my purpose was that I had not the proper paper or
envelope; the latter I might possibly contrive to do without, if
necessary, but the former was absolutely indispensable, and if I
could not get hold of a piece of it, I should have to relinquish the
telegram scheme altogether and substitute some other.

In order to procure what I wanted I pretended to be in need
of stamps, and upon that pretext went to the post-office at
Greenlea, as our village was called. The post-office was also a
telegraph-office and sort of general emporium, and was kept by an old
man named Jones, who had been there for years, and was certain not to
dream it possible that one of the ladies from Castle Manor should
have nefarious designs upon any of the stores over which he presided.
Having bought my stamps, and made one or two friendly remarks to the
proprietor, I affected a sudden interest in the working of the
telegraph, and was, as I expected, promptly invited behind the
counter to inspect the machine more closely. The blank forms and
envelopes requisite for sending out messages were lying close by
amongst some other papers, and somehow I was awkward enough to upset
the whole lot of papers together on the ground. "Oh how very stupid
of me!" I exclaimed, penitently, kneeling down as I spoke, and
beginning to collect the scattered papers; "I'll pick them up again
in a moment, Jones; don't you trouble!" What with old age and
rheumatism, Jones' joints were somewhat stiff, and he was not sorry
to be saved from the necessity of stooping down in the rather
confined space behind the counter.

"Well, indeed, 'tis a shame for you to be doing that, Miss, and me
looking on idle," he replied; "but I'm much obliged to you, too, and
I won't say no to a good offer. We old folks ben't quite so flippant
to move ourselves up and down as you young 'uns be; and it be a bit
narrer in here atween the wall and the counter, you see." So he
complacently received the papers from me and restored them to their
places as I handed them up in instalments; and he never missed the
telegraph form and envelope which I slipped swiftly into my pocket
whilst his eyes were turned in another direction. I left his shop in
triumph, having thus supplied myself with the means to which I
trusted for removing Miss Smith off the premises; and I was now all
ready to commence operations as soon as my stepmother and her husband
and daughters should take themselves off upon their intended visit.

The eventful day arrived, and I stood looking at them drive away from
the house with a curious mixture of feelings--partly gloomy and
partly cheerful. There went these people who constituted my family,
and I meant never to set eyes on them again if I could help it. They
were going to lark about, dance, be jolly, and amuse themselves in
all kinds of ways, and it was a horrid shame that I was not going
too. I should have been, only that Lady Trecastle would not let me
have fair play, and had chosen to spite me and to treat me like
a child when I was not one. I considered that she had behaved
infamously to me. Other young people of my age and position could go
to balls, enjoy themselves, have lots of fun, and frolic to their
heart's content, and it was grossly unjust to debar me from doing the
same. I was an oppressed and harshly-treated victim. I was being
defrauded of my rights and ousted from my proper place through the
enmity of a malevolent step-mother and the negligence of a father,
who was too selfish and indolent to care what became of me, or any
one else, as long as he was himself happy.

As I stood at the window watching the departing carriage, and
meditating on the wrongs that had rankled long in my breast, and had
now at last reached their culminating point, I felt a single burning
tear gather slowly in each eye and brim over on the cheek beneath.
Weeping is not a weakness to which I am given, for I am, as a rule,
one of the least tearful of mortals. But that tear was an exceptional
one, and was drawn from me solely by a feeling of bitter resentment
for past injuries, not by any foolish regrets or sentimentality
relating to my approaching separation from both home and family.

Mingled with these disagreeable thoughts, however, there was also
present in my mind an exhilarating idea, which soon dispelled the
unpleasant ones even as the sun disperses cloud. How could I mind
anything now that liberty was so close at hand? What did it matter
that Lady Trecastle had been able to convert my home into a hateful
prison, now that I was about to break my bonds and cut myself adrift
from it? Those people whose departure I had just watched should find
a little surprise awaiting them on their return, in the shape of my
disappearance! Freedom, novelty, and adventures lay before me.
Without these things life was not worth having, and I was on the
brink of enjoying them. Hurrah! The wide world was going to be open
to me, and I was about to enter on an unknown future, wherein
everything would be different from the past. The thought of all
this made my pulses throb with excitement, and filled me with wild
eagerness for the first taste of the anticipated joys.

I did not mean to deliver the forged telegram to Miss Smith till it
should be nearly time for the train, by which I expected that she
would go to Carlisle, to leave Sparkton--that being the name of our
nearest town. As that train did not start till past four o'clock
in the afternoon, and as Sir Anthony and Lady Trecastle and her
daughters had left home in the morning, I had to control my
impatience for some hours longer. Part of this time I employed in
preparing the telegram. Upon the blank form I scrawled in a feigned
hand as follows--"Alice Smith, Carlisle, to Miss Smith, Castle Manor,
Greenlea, Sparkton. _Come without losing a moment. I need your help
immediately_." Having enclosed this in the proper envelope of thin
yellow paper, and directed it to Miss Smith, I did not neglect also
to fill in the blank spaces on the outside with the requisite
information as to the time when the message was sent out, when handed
in, etc. I knew that she would probably be far too much perturbed by
the telegram to notice any little irregularity about its appearance,
but, for all that, I meant to be on the safe side, and to have
everything in order, so that there might be no possible ground
for suspicion.

When the due time had arrived for me to spring the mine that I had
prepared for her I betook myself to the schoolroom, where she was
engaged as usual in inditing epistles to some of her numerous
correspondents. The precious telegram was in my hand, and I proceeded
to deliver it to her, and also to account for the unusual circumstance
of its being brought by me instead of by a servant, according to the
ordinary course of things.

"Here's something for you," I said; "I went out to pick some flowers
just now, and as I was coming back towards the house I overtook a
child from Greenlea with this in its hand. Of course I saw at a
glance that it was a telegram--one can't mistake the appearance of
the article--and I asked which of the household it was for. It's for
you; and as I was coming straight in then I thought I would bring it
myself, and save the child having to come any farther."

The mere sight of the telegram sufficed to flutter Miss Smith's
nerves, and her fingers shook visibly as she opened it. The instant
she had perused its contents she jumped up in a tremendous state of
agitation, and exclaimed: "Good gracious! it's from my sister Alice!
She wants me immediately, but doesn't say what's the matter. What
_can_ have happened? Perhaps she's ill! I must go to her at once.
What trains are there? Isn't there a _Bradshaw_ somewhere? _That's_
not it, nor _that_, nor _that_!"

As she spoke she hurriedly took up one after another of the books
lying near, and examined their titles to see if either of them was a
_Bradshaw_, although there was nothing in the room that bore any
resemblance whatever to the well-known work. But she was a great deal
too much upset to notice that. I, however, needed no _Bradshaw_ to
enable me to give her the information she wanted, as I had already
ascertained exactly the starting-time of the next train that would
suit her, and had it at the tip of my tongue.

"The last train to the North from Sparkton starts at 4.20 in the
afternoon, I know," I answered; "that's the one for you to go by, and
if you go at once you'll just have time to catch it. Better go and
get ready as fast as you can, and I'll order the carriage to take you
to the station."

"Yes, yes, that'll be the way; thank you so much," she returned,
beginning to hasten towards the door. Before she had quite reached it
a sudden thought struck her, and she turned round with a look of
consternation, exclaiming, "Oh dear! I quite forgot that you'll be
all alone! I'm afraid Lady Trecastle won't like it. How unlucky for
her just to have gone away! But really what _can_ I do? Read the
telegram yourself, Ina; you'll see it's absolutely _imperative_ I
should go at once. My poor, dear Alice! I'm sure something quite
_dreadful_ must have happened to make her send for me like this. It
can't be any _trifle_, I know, for she is one of the calmest, least
excitable mortals on the face of the earth!"

She's not much like you, then, was my inward reflection, as I looked
at the spectacle of pitiable nervousness presented by my governess,
with her fingers twitching aimlessly to and fro, and her face
expressing feeble and helpless apprehension of evil. Indeed, I was
not altogether free from a feeling of compunction for being the means
of throwing her into such a state of distress, which must continue,
as I knew, till she should reach Carlisle, and discover that the
telegram had been a sham. But then she had to be got out of the way
somehow or other, and it would never do for a young woman who meant
to make her own way in the world, as I did, to be squeamish about
inflicting pain on other people if necessary; and after all it was
partly her own fault for having become the governess of a person who
did not want one at all. Besides that, the more miserable she was
now, the greater would be her joy and relief when she should learn
that her fears were unfounded. Really the bliss of that moment would
be so exquisite that I quite looked forward to it on her account!

When she handed me the telegram I of course affected to have no
previous knowledge of its contents, and even made believe to have a
difficulty in making out one or two of the words. Having read it
through, I said, "Oh certainly, you're bound to go at once, there
can't be a doubt of that. Don't bother yourself about Lady Trecastle;
I'll tell her exactly how the matter was. You know she and my father
will be back in a couple of days, and I shall be all right till their
return. But you'll lose your train if you don't look sharp now."

Reassured by this speech, she hurried off to get ready, whilst I rang
the bell to order the carriage. It was an object to me to have her
out of the room when I did this, as her absence enabled me at the
same time that I ordered the carriage to send word to the cook that
no dinner would be wanted that night. Miss Smith, I said, had been
called away suddenly, and I meant to travel with her a short
distance, to the house of one of my aunts, with whom I should stay
until Sir Anthony and Lady Trecastle returned. There was nothing
unlikely about my paying a visit to my aunt when left alone
unexpectedly; and I made this announcement to prevent the servants
from becoming alarmed at my disappearance, and bringing about a
premature discovery of my flight by communicating at once with my
father.

I next went to Miss Smith to tell her that I was coming with her as
far as the station to see her off; I said that I knew my father
wanted to have some things mended at a shop in Sparkton, and that I
thought I might as well avail myself of this opportunity of taking
them to the town, now that the carriage was going there with her. Of
course the discrepancy between this statement and the one which I had
just made for the benefit of the household would become apparent, and
put me into an awkward position, if she and the servants should
happen to compare notes as to what I had been saying. But I felt I
could reckon confidently that no such comparison would take place;
as, for one thing, my governess was a deal too much flurried and
taken up with her own affairs to think of anything else; and, for
another thing, my precaution of not delivering the telegram till
there was only just time to catch the train, prevented her from
having time for idle conversation, even if she _had_ happened to
feel disposed for such a thing.

I had had considerable difficulty in making up my mind what to do
about luggage. If I did not take any, that would look odd to the
servants, who believed me to be going to stay with my aunt; but then
Miss Smith, on the other hand, who fancied that I was merely going to
drive into Sparkton to see her off, would be astonished at any
appearance of boxes, bags, or portmanteaux that indicated an intended
absence from home. Besides that, it would not suit my plan of action
to be encumbered with anything that I could not manage easily to
carry through the streets with my own hands.

I had considered this knotty point for some time before I could
determine how to settle it. What I finally resolved upon was to take
a small hand-bag which was just large enough to hold sufficient
wearing apparel for a two night's visit (so as to impose upon the
servants), and which was yet not too large for me to be able to carry
about easily. Then, if my governess should make any remarks about
its presence in the carriage, and wonder what I wanted it for, I
could tell her that it contained the things for my father that were
going to be mended. Into this hand-bag I had already packed all the
jewellery I possessed, and as many clothes and other articles likely
to come useful as there was room for. Thus all my preparations were
completed, and I was ready for a start.

I did not wish to go away without bidding adieu to Lady Trecastle,
so I had written her a farewell letter; and whilst Miss Smith was
putting on her things, I placed it where my stepmother would be
certain to find it on her return. It ran thus--

    "LADY TRECASTLE--In my opinion it is high time for me to see
    the world and enjoy myself like other people, and as you seem
    resolved that I shall do nothing of the kind, I am going to
    settle the matter without asking your leave. I have timed my
    departure to suit the sailing of a vessel which is going where I
    wish to go, and by the time you receive this I shall be out of
    England and far away. You and I have hit it off together so
    badly, that I have no doubt you will regard my leaving as a
    subject for sincere congratulations--which permit me to offer to
    you. I fear that you will not receive them from any one else, on
    account of the hypocritical appearance of grief under which you
    are sure to think it necessary to conceal your real joy. I
    foresee also that you will affect the utmost anxiety to recover
    me; this will, of course, involve a considerable amount of
    expense, since you will find it difficult to satisfy Mrs. Grundy
    of the sincerity of your protestations, unless you employ
    detectives, and send out far and wide in search of me. I reflect
    on all this with pleasure, for I know well how you will grudge
    every penny that is spent on so unworthy an object as myself; and
    as I have no fear of being found, I am sure that the money will
    be spent in vain. Think of that, Lady Trecastle, you who hate
    waste--think of all that you'll have to throw away on _my_
    account! Sincerely trusting that you and I may never meet again,
    and that Margaret and Jane may be able to continue their studies
    without the assistance which they have hitherto received from
    the governesses who were supposed to be engaged for my sole
    benefit--Believe me to remain, yours in no sense at all,

                                                      INA TRECASTLE."

It is not to be supposed from this letter that I had any idea of
going straight abroad; on the contrary, I had made up my mind to get
to London as quickly as possible, and there to hide myself, and be
lost to pursuit, by the time that my flight should be known. But
I put in the bit about leaving England on the chance of Lady
Trecastle's believing it to be my real intention, and being thereby
thrown on the wrong track, and caused extra worry and expense. She
being my especial enemy, I wanted to annoy her as much as I could;
and as my father always managed to slip out of whatever was
troublesome, I knew that all the bother of the search after me would
certainly fall upon her shoulders, and that the more troublesome and
costly it was, the more my longing for revenge would be gratified.

It cost me nothing to leave my father. Since his second marriage he
and I had seen but little of each other--I having been kept closely
in the schoolroom, and he not having troubled himself to alter
whatever arrangements his wife thought fit to make. Whether I were at
home or not would make no difference to him I knew. I cared for no
one, and no one cared for me, exactly describes the condition in
which I was on that afternoon when I drove off from Castle Manor
with my tearful and apprehensive governess, to catch the 4.20 train
at Sparkton. I was leaving a home wherein was no person or thing that
was dear to me, where there was nothing for me to regret, to which I
was bound by no sweet or tender associations, and which had no kind
of hold over me. And I was about to exchange dulness and dreary
monotony for action, adventures, excitement, and an unknown state of
existence, where I must be always on the alert, ready for everything,
and trust to no one except myself. To all this I looked forward with
a delight that was not marred by the faintest tinge of timidity,
anxiety, or fear of failing in what I had set myself to accomplish.
No wonder that I was radiant with joy, and found some difficulty in
preserving my usual demeanour sufficiently not to arouse Miss Smith's
suspicions.



                            CHAPTER VI.

                           A PHOTOGRAPH.


There are two railway stations in Sparkton, which is a town of
sufficient size and importance to have two different railway
companies competing for its patronage; and this circumstance
rendered it all the easier for me to escape without leaving traces
for any pursuers to follow. The train by which I intended to go to
London would not leave until about two hours later than Miss Smith's
train to the north, and did not start from the same station. What,
therefore, I meant to do was to dismiss the coachman, John, and send
him home under the impression that I had gone away with my governess,
according to the announcement of my plans which I had made to our
Castle Manor household. Then, as soon as I had seen Miss Smith safely
off, I intended to take my bag in my hand, and proceed on foot to the
other station, there to await the departure of the London train.

It would, of course, never do for Miss Smith to see the carriage,
which she imagined was going to take me home again, drive straight
away directly that it had deposited us at the station; so, when we
got out, I told John to wait a minute, and then accompanied her to
the ticket-office. Some other travellers who had arrived before us
were blocking up the entrance, and she had to wait her turn to take
her ticket. This delay greatly increased her nervousness, and she
began to be in a desperate fidget lest she should be too late. I
showed her, by the station-clock overhead, that she had fully ten
minutes to spare, but she was too much upset to be calmed by reason.
Pulling out her purse she commenced fumbling at it hurriedly, and
was dismayed to find that she could not open it. "Oh, Ina!" she
exclaimed, helplessly, "what _am_ I to do? Something has happened to
my purse, and I can't get it open! Dear! dear! I _know_ I shall be
too late! Can you lend me some money?"

The purse would not open for the very excellent reason that she was
tugging at the hinges instead of at the clasp; I doubt whether she
would ever have found this out for herself in the condition in which
she then was; but I quickly saw what was the matter, and rectified it
for her. As soon as I had done so, I said, "By the by, there's a
parcel to be called for at a shop in the next street, which John will
have plenty of time to go and fetch whilst I'm waiting to see you
off. I forgot to tell him of it before I left the carriage, so I'm
just going to send him there. I won't be a minute, and shall be back
before you've got your ticket."

The poor woman looked at me with a bewildered air at first, as though
she had hardly understood what I said to her, and felt only alarmed
at the idea of being left alone in the crowded station. Then, seeming
to realise the position of affairs all of a sudden, she answered
quickly, "Oh, but I forgot, hadn't you better go and do your shopping
at once without waiting for me to start? I'm afraid if the horses
were to catch cold or anything, Lady Trecastle would be very much
vexed; and, perhaps, she might think it was my fault. Not that I want
to lose your help, only I shouldn't like to make her angry. If these
people in front will only be quick, I _may_ still be able to catch
the train perhaps!"

"Don't be afraid--you've heaps of time," I returned; "and I'm sure
there's no chance of the horses taking cold; besides, they'll be kept
moving by going on this errand that I'm going to send them off for.
I mean to stay and see the last of you, put you comfortably into your
carriage, get you some papers to amuse yourself with on the journey,
and see that you don't forget anything at the last moment."

In her then condition of mental disorganisation on account of her
anxiety about her sister, she was really hardly capable of looking
after herself. She seemed to be vaguely aware of this, and to regard
me as a sort of tower of strength which she could rely upon, and her
face brightened perceptibly at the assurance that she would have the
benefit of my protecting presence until she was fairly under weigh.

"Thank you, dear Ina," she said, gratefully. "I'm so _much_ obliged.
I can't tell you how kind and good I think it of you to give yourself
so much trouble about me."

"Oh, it's no trouble," I replied, repressing with difficulty an
inclination to laugh at the thoroughness with which she was being
humbugged. So saying I left her, and hurried away to give John his
instructions. Though the situation struck me as being ludicrous, yet
I had an uncomfortable sense of being in a false position, and did
not feel particularly anxious to listen to her expressions of earnest
gratitude. I had, for my own purposes, deliberately thrown her into a
state of serious distress caused by what was absolutely false, and I
was now staying with her merely because it suited me to do so, and
not at all out of regard to her necessities; considering all this, it
did seem a little strong for me to be posing in the character of her
especial friend, and receiving thanks as though I were remaining to
see her off out of pure good nature! Yet, after all, I could not help
acting as I had done. I was bound to clear the course for myself
somehow or other; and if the process of being swept aside happened to
be unpleasant to any obstacle, why, that was unfortunate for the
obstacle, but no reason why the sweeping aside should be given up.

Having told John that he need not wait any longer, I watched him
drive away, and then returned to my governess, who was, by that
time, again in need of assistance. She had paid for her ticket with
a £5 note, and received a considerable amount of change, which she
had managed to let slip through her trembling fingers as she was
transferring it to her purse, and it had rolled hither and thither on
the floor. Firmly convinced that the train was on the very point of
starting, she was, when I arrived, just about to hurry off and take
her seat, and abandon the money to its fate, though she could but ill
have afforded to lose it. Luckily I was in time to stop this folly,
and persuaded her to stay and join me in picking up the scattered
coins, which we soon accomplished. Whilst thus employed, I could not
help reflecting on how differently she and I were constituted, and
on how much the most fit I was to look after myself.

It must be a queer sensation, thought I, to care for any one to such
a pitch as she does. Fancy being in such a state of mind as she is at
the mere idea of some other person's being ill, or in trouble of some
kind or other! Well, I thank my stars I am somewhat tougher than
that, and not _quite_ such a softy. Precious little chance I should
have, else, of shifting for myself, and fighting my own way in the
world, as I mean to do!

It was with a sense of pity, wherein (as is often the case) there was
a strong admixture of contempt, that I escorted her to the train,
found her the right carriage, established her in it with such
travelling comforts as were to be had, repeated over and over the
names of the places where she would have to change before reaching
Carlisle, for fear of her forgetting them, and paid her whatever
other little attentions I could think of. She, poor woman, was quite
overwhelmed at such thoughtful politeness on my part, and received it
with the utmost gratitude, without dreaming for an instant of the
desire to make some kind of amends for the anxiety I had brought upon
her, which was the real motive of my unwontedly civil behaviour.

I tried hard to raise her spirits, and when the train began to move I
walked beside it for a step or two saying cheerful parting words to
her. Faster and faster did the long line of carriages slip along by
the platform, and I stood still, watching her wave me a farewell with
her tear-besprinkled handkerchief. In a minute more she had passed
out of sight, and I felt, that now the last link of my chain was
indeed broken, that I had got rid of all the authorities whom I
detested, and that I was in very truth my own mistress.

The first thing for me to do now was to make my way to the other
station, and there await the starting of my train for London. In
order to avoid the risk of being recognised by any one in traversing
the town, I had, before leaving home, put into my pocket a thick
veil; this I now donned, and then, with my bag in my hand, issued
out into the streets. Here I soon had cause to congratulate myself on
having taken the precaution to wear a veil, for, on turning a corner,
I suddenly found myself confronted by our own carriage, with John on
the box, drawn up close to the pavement. John was profiting by the
absence of his master's family to do some shopping on his own
account, and also to enjoy the society of a female acquaintance, who
was perched up on the seat beside him, displaying manifold and
gaudy ribbons from that point of vantage with an air of immense
complacency. Though he glanced at me as I passed, he did not
recognise me through my thick veil, and I reached my destination in
safety, without meeting any one else whom I knew.

The train by which I was going was not due to start for some time to
come, and I could not take a ticket for it yet. As I was anxious not
to attract observation by being seen hanging about the station, I
withdrew into the waiting-room with a book in my hand, and settled
myself there quietly, as if to pass the time in reading. I was,
in truth, too much excited to fix my attention on my book, but I
wished to _appear_ to be engrossed in it all the same; and as it is
obviously impossible to read much through a thick veil, I threw mine
back when I began to pretend to study the volume which I held.

I was undisturbed in my seclusion for a considerable while; but just
as I was beginning to think that it was getting near time for the
train to start, and that the ticket-office would soon be open, two
ladies entered the room, attended by a footman laden with their
rugs, bags, and etceteras. These he deposited on the table and then
retired, touching his hat respectfully, and saying that the tickets
would not be given out for another five minutes.

The lady nearest me was a middle-aged person. I saw at a glance, as
she entered the room, that she was a complete stranger to me, and I
looked at her carelessly, without at first noticing her younger
companion. I had, for the moment, forgotten that my veil was up; but
then, suddenly remembering it, and also the expediency of concealing
my face before going to take my ticket, I was just about to lower the
odious stifling mass of thick gauze, when the younger lady moved
towards the table to take something out of her travelling-bag. She
looked at me in passing, and as our eyes met I felt a thrill of
alarm, and a conviction that she was some one I had met before,
though I could not recollect where or how, or what her name was.
Luckily she had evidently no recollection of me, but passed on
without a gleam of recognition in her face, got what she wanted out
of the bag, and returned to her seat. None the less, I was perfectly
certain I knew her, and all at once it flashed across me who she was.
She must be Kitty Mervyn, the girl whom I had met and taken a strong
fancy to at Lugano four years ago. Since then we had both of us grown
and altered considerably in appearance, and she had developed into a
tall, handsome, stately-looking young woman. But it was so uncommon
an event for any one to make any great impression on me, that I was
not likely to forget whoever had been able to work that miracle, and
I felt positive that I could not now be mistaken as to Kitty's
identity. I perceived, also, that she had no idea whatever of who I
was, which was most fortunate for me, as it would have greatly
interfered with my plans to be seen there by any one who knew me.
I was quite aware of this, and rejoiced at my good luck; and
yet--strange creatures that we are!--even whilst I rejoiced, I
suffered a pang of keen mortification. Hardly ever in my life had I
felt disposed to honour one of my fellow-creatures with any especial
degree of liking or approval; and when, for once, I had been moved to
do so, it seemed as if the individual thus distinguished ought
certainly to have felt some corresponding amount of inclination for
me. Yet this had not been the case, since Kitty Mervyn had forgotten
me, though I had not forgotten her. And therefore I had a sense of
annoyance and humiliation at this forgetfulness, notwithstanding its
opportuneness, and the inconvenience that it would have been to me to
be recognised just then, when it was my great object to leave no
trace that could show what had become of me after the time that I had
parted from Miss Smith.

As soon as the ticket-office was open, the footman returned to inform
the ladies of that fact; then they left the waiting-room attended by
the man carrying their _impedimenta_ for them as before. Having
stayed a minute longer to let them get out of the way, I was on the
point of following them, when I noticed a small article lying under
the table, and picked it up. It was one of those purses that are
purse and pocket-book combined, and I guessed that it had probably
fallen out of Miss Mervyn's bag when she had opened it just now to
take out something else. What should I do with the purse? I had
little doubt of who the rightful owner was, and could easily restore
it to her if I chose. Only the question was whether I _did_ choose,
for there was no one near to see me find it, and I was free to do as
I pleased. At some other time I might, perhaps, have followed the
dictates of honesty, but at the present moment I was out of charity
with Kitty. I had not forgiven her for the wound which she had
unconsciously inflicted on my self-esteem, and was much more inclined
to spite her, if I had a chance, than to do her a good turn;
therefore, after hesitating for a few moments, I pocketed what I
had found, postponing the examination of its contents to the first
opportunity when I should be at leisure and unobserved.

Now that I was going to trust to my own resources for a livelihood,
money was a most important object to me, and as I had no intention of
wasting it in needless luxury, I contented myself with a humble
third-class ticket. Having secured this, I took my seat in the
London train, and was, in due course of time, whirled away from
Sparkton towards the metropolis, where I meant to seek my fortune.
At starting there were two or three other passengers in the carriage
with me, but they got out at the first few stations where we stopped,
and when I found myself alone I thought I might as well take that
opportunity of seeing what Miss Mervyn's purse contained.

I was glad to find in it several pounds in gold and silver. Some
extra cash would be extremely handy to me in present circumstances,
and would no doubt be far more useful to me than to her, I thought.
Then I turned to the pocket-book half of the purse, and began to
explore that also. Here there were some postage stamps, a set of
directions for some kind of fancy-work that was just then all the
fashion, and a letter addressed to the Hon. Katherine Mervyn--which
last was a conclusive proof that my conjecture as to the ownership of
the purse was right. I took the liberty of unfolding and reading the
letter, which was a heavy bill for gloves and fans. The largeness of
the amount caused me a surprise, which was soon changed into envy as
I reflected that I, too, might have been in a state to require a
similar profusion of these articles, if my step-mother had not
unjustly shut me off from the privileges of my age and rank in life.
It was strange how the perusal of that bill, and the thought that it
had been incurred by a girl no older than myself, irritated me afresh
against Lady Trecastle, and increased my former sense of being a much
injured and aggrieved mortal!

The bill, stamps, and work directions appeared at first sight to
comprise the whole contents of the pocket-book; I was about to shut
it up under that impression, when I bethought me that I was in want
of a new purse, as mine was a good deal worn, and that if Kitty's
was in good condition I had better substitute it for my own. This
idea made me take up again the one I had found, and look it over
carefully. The close inspection revealed an inner pocket underneath
the flap of the other, and ingeniously contrived so as not to attract
notice. Within this sly hiding-place was a piece of cardboard wrapped
in silver paper, which, on being opened, disclosed the photograph of
a very good-looking young man in military uniform. My curiosity was
aroused as to who the original might be, and I turned it round and
round in hopes of discovering some name or initial; there was,
however, nothing of the kind except the name of the photographer to
be found, and so my curiosity remained unsatisfied.

Whoever could that young man be? I wondered, and why was he so
interesting to Kitty that she carried his picture about with her,
done up and concealed with such care? It was not a brother, as I knew
that she had none. Was she engaged to be married, and was it the
likeness of her future husband? Only in that case the portrait would
be more likely to be carried openly than to be thus hidden away in
the inmost recess of her purse, as if it were a thing to be ashamed
of.

As I mused over it, and over the desire for secrecy that seemed to be
conveyed by the place where I had found it, the thought crossed my
mind whether it could be some unacknowledged lover, whose addresses
were being paid against the wishes of her parents. Yet somehow I
could hardly fancy that to be very probable either. There was a
stateliness and haughtiness about her that gave the impression of a
person who would be most unlikely ever to condescend to anything so
mean and underhand as a clandestine love affair; she would have too
much self-respect and sense of dignity. Well! be the young man who he
might, I had no clue to his identity or to his connection with her,
and it was no use my bothering myself with vain speculations on the
subject. At all events, she would have to get a new copy of his
photograph, as I had no intention of returning the one that had
fallen into my hands. And with that reflection I dismissed the matter
from my mind, and applied myself to the more practical consideration
of what my immediate future was to be.



                            CHAPTER VII.

                        A FEW LONDON PRICES.


I have not, as yet, said anything about what I meant to do on
reaching London, and how I intended to support myself; but it must
not, therefore, be supposed that I had not carefully considered, and
fully made up my mind upon that important matter. Various ways by
which a young woman in my position might earn her livelihood had
suggested themselves to me; and, after mature deliberation, I had
selected the avocations of daily-governess, shop-assistant, or
travelling-maid, as being those in which I was most likely to
succeed.

This reduced the limits of my choice to three. For awhile I remained
uncertain to which of the three I should give the preference, but
finally came to the conclusion that the latter was the one for which
I was best fitted by my gifts--both natural and acquired. Lack of
training would, of course, make it foolish for me to think of
undertaking the place of an ordinary stay-at-home lady's-maid, but
that training was by no means so essential for a travelling Abigail.
What would be chiefly wanted for such a situation was, a knowledge of
languages, a good head, a capacity for looking after luggage, and
such abilities as would enable the maid to supply the place of
courier whenever necessary; and in all these respects I had little
fear of being capable of giving satisfaction to any employer. As far
as needlework was concerned, I could do plain sewing well enough;
and though I did not know how to make dresses, yet I anticipated
no difficulty on that score, because, as it would evidently be
unreasonable to expect a servant to have cultivated both brains and
fingers alike, therefore proficiency in an inferior art, like
dressmaking, was not to be looked for in a person who had studied the
far higher branch of knowledge--languages. And, besides that, people
did not generally want to have clothes made when they were on their
travels.

There was another part of a lady's-maid's business which was much
more likely to be required, and of which, also, I was at present
ignorant; and that was hairdressing. But that was a deficiency which
could easily be remedied by some lessons from a good hairdresser; and
the first thing that I meant to do in London was to inquire for an
artist of this kind, and become his pupil until I had learnt from him
enough of the art to fit me for a maid's place. Of course, paying for
the lessons, and finding myself meanwhile in board and lodging, would
cost money--and expense was a consideration that was on no account to
be overlooked. But I was prepared to practise strict economy; and,
what with the contents of Kitty Mervyn's purse and my own, I had
enough to live upon for some weeks at least, and did not doubt that
my resources would hold out till I should have learnt sufficient
hairdressing for my purpose. Altogether I believed that I should make
a capital travelling-maid; and it was an occupation especially
attractive to me, because well adapted to gratify my taste for much
change and amusement.

One thing which I did during the journey to London was to effect a
considerable change in my appearance. The more I could make myself
look unlike what I had been when I left home, the greater would be my
security against pursuit, and I did not neglect the opportunity
for doing this which was afforded by the solitude of the railway
carriage. I had not got the materials for a complete disguise, but a
good deal may be done with a different neck-wrap and pair of gloves,
and a brush, comb, needle and thread. These things I had stowed
away in my bag, and by their aid I soon contrived sufficiently to
alter my exterior to make it unlikely that I should be identified
as corresponding to any description that might be given of the
Gilbertina Trecastle who had seen off her governess at Sparkton
Station.

By the time we reached London night had set in. As we steamed slowly
into the spacious and brilliantly lit-up terminus, the bustling,
animated scene which I beheld gave me a thrill of delight, and a
pleasant sense of having undoubtedly got away from the tranquil
duck-pond where I had been vegetating, and having entered the rushing
stream of life--a stream which tolerates none of the slimy scum and
weed that are apt to accumulate on the surface of stagnation, but
speedily washes away every vestige of them.

I saw railway officials of various grades hurrying to and fro, and
all intent on some business or other. Loud shouts for hansoms and
fourwheelers began to echo through the glazed walls of the great
station even before the train had stopped. Porters swarmed at the
windows of carriages still in motion, jumped on to the steps, opened
the doors, commenced taking out hand-bags, wraps, umbrellas, and
similar small articles, reiterated eager exclamations of "Cab, sir?
Cab, mum? Any luggage? Where from?" etc., and vied with one another
in pressing their services upon all passengers from whom a tip was
likely to be expected. Under this head the occupants of third-class
carriages were evidently not included, and not one of the offers of
assistance that were being lavished so freely in other directions
fell to my share, as I emerged from my compartment with the bag that
contained all my goods in my hand. It was a neglect, however, which I
certainly did not wish altered under the circumstances, as the less
notice I attracted, the better was my chance of evading any enquiries
that might subsequently be made about me.

It was too late that night to set about hunting for a lodging, but
as hotels are usually to be found in close proximity to railway
stations, I had no fear of having to go far for a bed. I was not
mistaken in this confidence. No sooner had I got into the street
than I saw just before me an immense building with the words RAILWAY
HOTEL flaring in large coloured letters upon a gas transparency over
the door; and underneath this inscription was another, in smaller
sized letters, stating that within this magnificent hotel travellers
of all classes were supplied with every comfort and luxury at
extremely moderate prices.

Turning my steps thither, I entered through the open doors into a
large, softly-carpeted, handsomely-furnished hall, where a porter in
a gorgeous livery and sundry waiters were lounging about and talking.
To one of these I addressed myself, requesting to be shown a room
for the night, and adding that I wished it to be as inexpensive a
one as possible. My request was referred to the presiding genius
in the hall, who was an elegantly attired young lady, with the most
nonchalant expression of countenance that it was ever my fortune to
behold. She was deeply engaged in a book; but on being spoken to she
put it down, glanced at a list of rooms, rang a bell, uttered
oracularly the single word "18," then resumed her volume, and at once
became as deeply absorbed in it again as though her studies had never
been interrupted at all.

Meanwhile, one of her satellites conducted me up innumerable stairs
to the chamber assigned to me--lowness of price and of situation
being in the usual inverse proportions. At last we arrived at No. 18,
which proved to be a room small enough to have done duty as a convent
cell, and scantily furnished with a table, a chair, a cracked and
fly-spotted little looking-glass, a washing-stand, a tiny chest of
drawers, and a short narrow bedstead, whereon was an abominably hard
and fusty-smelling mattress.

The charge for one night's occupation of this palatial apartment was
5s., and for that sum one would have supposed that a little civility
from the hotel servants might well have been thrown into the bargain,
without there being any danger of the visitor's receiving an unfair
amount of return for the money spent. Such, however, was by no means
the opinion of the waiters and chambermaids, who were at no pains
to hide the supreme scorn with which they were inspired by the
spectacle of a traveller attempting to combine hotel-life with
economy. To their minds the two things evidently were, and ought to
be, absolutely incompatible; and I am inclined to think that they
deemed it one of the objects for which they had been put into the
world, to make that incompatibility as plainly apparent as possible.

Fortunately for me, I was as little affected by their contempt as I
was by the indifferent quality of the accommodation provided. Neither
the nasty smell of my couch nor its hardness, nor yet the sense of
being an object of scorn to a pack of waiters and chambermaids, had
power to interfere with my repose; for I slept soundly all night, and
awoke in the morning as much refreshed as though I had tenanted the
most luxurious room imaginable. Observing a tariff of hotel prices
hanging up over the washing-stand, I proceeded to read it as soon as
I was dressed. From this document I learnt that a single cup of tea
or coffee was to be had for 6d. (would that include milk and sugar? I
wondered), and that the cost of a breakfast, consisting of tea or
coffee and bread and butter, was 1s. 6d. Not bad that, thought I,
for a place which professes to supply every comfort and luxury at
extremely moderate prices! I should rather like to know what is the
landlord's idea of _im_moderate ones.

Paying for food at this rate was not exactly consistent with the
rigid economy which my circumstances imposed upon me, so I sallied
forth to procure breakfast elsewhere. This was not difficult to
accomplish, as there was a tidy little restaurant only two doors off,
where, for the sum of 6d., I was supplied with coffee, a good-sized
roll, and a pat of butter--all of excellent quality. The small round
table on which the food was served was destitute of a cloth, but
quite clean; and I ate my meal with as hearty a relish, and enjoyed
it every bit as much, as though it had cost 150 per cent more, and
been consumed in the sumptuous coffee-room of the hotel.

The proprietor of the restaurant was an Italian. I was, just then,
his sole customer, and, as he did not seem particularly busy, I spoke
to him in his own language when I went to the counter to pay for my
breakfast, and asked him if he happened to know of any one who gave
lessons in hairdressing. The chance of a conversation in his native
tongue appeared to please him; for he became so communicative that I
think it would have needed but little encouragement on my part to
draw from him, there and then, the whole history of his life. With
some difficulty, however, I managed to check his confidences, and to
keep him to the point on which I required information.

Did he know any one to teach hairdressing? He must consider a moment.
Yes, to be sure! there was his friend, Monsieur Candot, a French
_parruchiére_, who could do hair, make frisettes, plaits, puffs,
curls, wigs, everything. He was not _certain_ that Monsieur Candot
gave lessons; but thought it highly probable.

Had Monsieur Candot much practice? I asked; because otherwise he
would not suit me, as I wished only to learn of a really high-class
and fashionable hairdresser. Then, seeing the Italian's face clouding
over at the idea of my venturing to doubt the superior talent of a
man whom he recommended and called his friend, I hastened to smooth
down his ruffled feelings by adding that I felt sure he would excuse
my asking the question, because--as he well knew--there were wigs and
wigs, and the mere fact of making them did not necessarily imply that
they were made well; that, in short, if it were permissible to take
liberties with Giusti's epigram about bookmaking, one might say--

        "Il far' un' parrúcca è meno che niénte,
         Se parrúcca fatte non piace la gente."

This pacified the Italian's rising ire. There could be no possible
doubt, he said, of his friend's wonderful talent. Monsieur Candot was
a genuine artist, who never executed any work of art that was not
first-rate, because, if it fell short of the perfection at which he
aimed, he would destroy it unhesitatingly, and make another and more
successful one in its place. His merit was appreciated everywhere; he
was in request in the very highest circles, and made wigs "_anche per
le duchesse_."

There was no resisting such a recommendation as this, so I procured
Monsieur Candot's address, and set off to find him. He resided in a
small street near Edgeware Road, and when I got to his abode I was
fortunate enough to find him disengaged, and to be admitted without
delay to his presence. I told him I was a maid who was anxious to
learn hairdressing, and asked if he gave lessons in that art. He
replied in the affirmative, saying also that he was constantly
having applications like mine, and that he had no doubt of being
able to make an expert _coiffeuse_ of me in about a month--however
ignorant of the matter I might now be. Was I going to take the
lessons on my own account, or was it by the wish of my mistress?

At the time I could not conceive what was the motive of this
question; but I subsequently discovered it to be, that his price for
lessons given to a maid at her mistress's expense was nearly double
what it was when the maid paid for them out of her own pocket. I, in
my present state of life, highly approved of this practice; and, as
my answer showed me to be entitled to the benefit of the lower rate
of payment, our terms were soon arranged, and the interview came to
a satisfactory termination.

So far, so good; and now to find myself a cheap habitation not far
from Monsieur Candot's residence. After wandering about for some time
in the neighbouring streets, I discovered a lodging that seemed
likely to be suitable. The landlady, however--either because a long
experience of lodgers had made her distrust them as a body, or else
because there was something she objected to in my appearance--did not
evince much eagerness to let her room. She hesitated and eyed me
doubtfully, demanding what was my name and occupation, and whether I
could pay a week in advance--_i.e._ fifteen shillings.

I had already determined that, whenever I should be asked for my
name, I would adopt the abbreviation that had been bestowed upon me
in my earliest years; so I replied that I was a lady's-maid called
Caroline Jill; that I had recently left a situation; and that I did
not intend looking out for another until I had had some hairdressing
lessons. And, as I spoke, I laid upon the table the rent in advance
which she had asked for.

There was nothing at all improbable in my story, and the sight of
the money gave her confidence, so she consented to receive me as a
lodger. I then bethought me that she would be almost sure to expect
a lady's-maid to be accompanied by at least one big box, and that her
distrust might very likely be reawakened at sight of the extremely
modest amount of luggage which I had to bring; so I mentioned,
casually, that I had left almost all my goods at home in the country,
and had only a very small bag with me, as it was so inconvenient to
be moving about with a lot of heavy things. And having thus prepared
her mind for the diminutive size of my bag, I set off to fetch it
from the hotel.

The hairdressing lessons were not to take place till the evenings,
or late in the afternoons, so that I should be idle during the
greater part of each day; and, as I returned to the hotel, I began
considering how to employ profitably all the spare time that I should
have on my hands. Evidently the thing to suit me would be a temporary
engagement as daily-governess, as I should then be adding to my
slender stock of money even whilst paying for Candot's instructions.
I would endeavour to get such an engagement as soon as possible; and,
in order to lose no time about it, I would go straight to the hotel
reading-room, where I should be sure to find the day's newspapers,
wherein I might perhaps meet with some advertisements that it would
be worth my while to answer.

On reaching the hotel, therefore, I turned along a passage over which
was a notice to the effect that it led to the reading-room. A waiter
outside stared at me with wrathful surprise, as if he thought that
the luxuries of that apartment were unlawful for any one badly off
for money, and that it was the height of presumption for so humble
a person as myself to attempt to enjoy them. But I knew well that
whoever stays at a hotel has a right to profit by its reading-room;
so I walked calmly in, without heeding his indignant looks. Daily
and weekly newspapers, journals, and periodicals of various kinds,
were spread on the table, and I proceeded diligently to study the
advertisements for daily governesses which they contained. It was not
every such place which would do for me, as I wanted one situated in
London, and where only morning work was required, therefore I had
some difficulty in discovering an advertisement that was at all
likely to suit. At last, however, I hit upon a couple in the _Morning
Post_ that seemed tolerably promising; and as it was too late to
think of going to apply for them on that day, I copied the addresses
for use on the morrow, and then left the room.

As I entered the hall on my way upstairs a gentleman who had come to
call upon some one staying at the hotel was in the act of leaving his
card. It was a strange coincidence that that particular individual
should have happened to be there at the very moment when I was
passing through; for I immediately saw that he was the original of
the mysterious photograph which had been put away so snugly in Miss
Mervyn's purse, and as to which I had felt inquisitive. Surely now I
should be able to gratify my curiosity so far as to find out his
name, I thought, and, so thinking, lingered in the hall in hopes of
an opportunity for attaining that object.

Not far from the door there were a lot of pigeon-holes for the
purpose of receiving any letters and cards that might arrive
for visitors at the hotel; and in one of these receptacles the
gentleman's card was deposited by the servant to whom he gave it.
This afforded me the chance I wanted. Pretending that I thought
there might be a letter for me, I went to the pigeon-holes and
inspected the bit of pasteboard just placed there, and thus learnt
that its owner's name was Edward Norroy, and that he was a captain
in the Fusiliers.

Well, that was _something_ to have discovered about him, certainly,
but not very much; I had never heard the name before, and was still
as far off as ever from knowing what he and Kitty had to do with one
another, and why she should care to carry his picture about in her
pocket. It was no business of mine, of course, as I very well knew.
Yet the singular attractiveness which she had for me made me feel
more interest in her concerns than in those of the generality of
human-kind. It was strange, too, considering that I had seen her but
twice in my life, and was by no means of an impressionable nature,
nor yet particularly inquisitive. But that did not prevent me from
speculating about her to an extent at which I myself was astonished;
I had an idea that I should like to be able to observe her, and study
her character.

Reflecting how queer it was to take so much interest in the affairs
of a person with whom I had absolutely nothing to do, and wondering
whether it did not show a tendency to reprehensible weak-mindedness,
I left the hall, and climbed up to my bedroom. I had very little
packing-up to get through, so I was soon ready to depart, and then I
rang the bell and asked for my bill.

It might, not unreasonably, have been supposed that the 5s. which was
the price of the room I had occupied would have fully paid for all
that I had had from the hotel, and left a pretty fair margin for
profit as well. Not so, however, was the opinion of the manager; for
a tiny foot-tub and jug of water which I had used to wash myself in
on rising were dignified in the bill by the name of "bath;" and for
that, and for "attendance," an extra half-crown was tacked on to my
expenses. I had had quite enough experience of hotel bills to know
that "attendance" was an inevitable item on them, and that it was
no use grumbling at the charge. Still, I had found the article so
unusually conspicuous by its absence in the present instance, that I
could not resist the desire I felt to give a little bit of my mind on
the subject to the chambermaid who had brought me the bill, and was
now waiting for its payment.

"What an odd thing it is," said I, gravely, "that _attendance_ and
_nothing_ should be two words that have precisely the same meaning.
Don't you think so?"

I spoke with the utmost seriousness, and I think that she imagined
I was going to dispute the bill. "Do I think what?" she returned,
pertly; "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why," replied I, "if you look at this bill, you will see that
_attendance_ is charged just as if it were something extra which
had really been supplied to me; that is not the case, as you are
perfectly well aware, so the natural inference is that the word must
mean nothing, you see. Otherwise one would be obliged to suppose that
those three syllables had some special privilege attached to them
to enable hotelkeepers to rob people openly and with impunity; for
there certainly isn't any other article--such as dinner, wine,
drawing-room, etc.--which a visitor can be made to pay for if
he hasn't had it. I thought you might have been struck by the
singularity of this circumstance, but probably you are too much
accustomed to it to think it odd. Here's the money; I wish to have
the receipt as soon as possible, if you please."

The woman coloured angrily, and looked as if she had an uncivil reply
at the tip of her tongue. Just as I finished speaking, however, a
bell rang which she was called to go and answer, so she was compelled
to deny herself the pleasure of a retort. She hurried away, muttering
something about having no time to waste in listening to all the
rubbish that fools found time to talk; and the receipted bill was
presently brought to me by another of the servants.

Taking my little bag in my hand, I descended the stairs and bade
adieu to the grand Railway Hotel, without feeling the very slightest
inclination ever again to make proof of the accommodation which
it offered "at extremely moderate prices" to "travellers of all
classes." Yet I myself told lies unhesitatingly whenever I found
them convenient; so what right had I to complain of other people
for doing the same?



                           CHAPTER VIII.

                         A STREET INCIDENT.


Before going to bed that night I wished to arrange my plans for the
next day, and to make up my mind which of the two daily-governess
situations that I had in view I would apply for first. For this
purpose I carefully compared the advertisements together to see if
either one contained anything that made it seem likely to be
preferable to the other. As, however, there did not appear to be a
pin's point to choose between them, I left the selection to chance,
and settled the question by tossing. The result of this appeal to
hazard was to decide me to try first for the place of A. G., who
required personal application to be made between noon and two o'clock
in the afternoon, at a given address somewhere in the Bayswater
district.

It was no use going there before the hour specified, and I did
not feel in the humour to settle down to any steady occupation
till it was time to start, so I spent most of the following morning
in watching what went on in the street below my window, and making
guesses as to the characters and employments of the various
passers-by. Amongst these there was one to whom my attention was
particularly attracted. This was a little girl of about nine or ten
years old, with a basket containing some bunches of common flowers
for sale. It was quite early in the morning when first I noticed her,
and afterwards I saw her pass my window again and again; for though,
at intervals, she made excursions into other neighbouring streets,
yet after each of these excursions she returned to the one wherein
my lodging was situated. At first she looked tolerably bright
and smiling as she ran here and there, making assiduous efforts
to dispose of her stock in trade. But she was not in luck's way,
and failed to sell a single bunch; and she evidently took this
ill-success greatly to heart, for all the smiles and cheerfulness
gradually died away from her face, and she looked increasingly sad
and melancholy each time that I saw her pass.

Presently a big coarse-looking woman, who was also selling flowers,
came into the street. She and the child met, and stopped to talk,
just opposite my window; and though I could not hear what they said,
yet their looks and gestures enabled me to make a very fair guess
at what they were talking about. The little girl, I could see, was
timidly asking some favour which the woman refused. The child, though
apparently much in awe of the other, yet seemed to screw up her
courage to urge the petition; evidently she desired very much to have
it granted, as I could see by the pitifully earnest wistfulness
expressed in her countenance, as she looked up with quivering lips,
and eyes brimful of tears. Whatever her request was, however, the
woman had no mind to grant it; and, seeming to become impatient at
the child's persistency, pushed her away roughly and left the street.
For a minute or so after her departure the little girl stood sobbing,
and looking a picture of disappointment and misery. Then, using the
corner of her shawl as a pocket-handkerchief, she dried her eyes,
blew her nose, and mournfully resumed her former occupation.

She did not again come in sight of my window, so I saw no more of her
till it was time for me to start on my situation-hunting expedition.

I was walking down towards Oxford Street, with my head full of my own
affairs, when I heard a shrill, quavering, little voice pipe out
close at my elbow: "Flowers, lady! bootifle fresh flowers. Won't you
please buy a bunch?" Looking down, I saw beside me the same little
girl whom I had previously been watching. The contents of her basket
were still undiminished, and she was sitting wearily on a door-step,
but now started up to offer me her wares, and try to induce me to
become a customer. Though I could do very well without flowers, yet I
liked them, and thought they would be a considerable improvement to
my dingy little lodging; besides, I pitied the child for the bad luck
she had hitherto had that morning; so altogether I had half a mind to
buy of her. But then the warning voice of prudence interfered, saying
that I had no money to waste on vanities like flowers, and that
the more I departed from my strict rule of denying myself every
superfluity, the more irksome it would be to keep to it at all. I
thought prudence was perfectly right, so I followed her counsel, and
replied to the little flower-seller; "No, thank you; I don't want
any."

She, however, was unwilling to take a refusal, and exclaimed; "Oh,
but do _please_ 'ave some, dear lady. Sitch bootifle flowers, they
be! Jest one bunch!"

I was not going to offend my inward monitor by disregarding her
advice, so I merely shook my head, and walked on.

For a few steps the child trotted beside me, continuing her
importunities, but desisted when she found I was not to be moved. I
looked back to see what she was doing when I reached the corner of
the street, and saw that she had buried her face in her shawl, and
was crying bitterly.

I was provoked at such a very unpractical proceeding; and, thinking
that at all events a word of good advice would cost me nothing to
give, and that perhaps she might be the better for it, I returned to
her, and said: "Now, you know, it's excessively silly of you to
behave like that, and you'd much better dry your eyes. You're just
as likely as not to be losing a chance of a customer while you're
crying, and you don't want to do that, do you?"

"Oh, _indeed_ but I can't 'elp crying," she replied, between her
violent sobs; "it's cos I'se so 'ungry--so dreffle 'ungry."

"What makes you so hungry?" said I. "Didn't you have enough
breakfast?"

"I 'asn't 'ad none at all," she returned. "When mother sent me out
this mornin', she said as I shouldn't 'ave no brexshus till I'd got
the money for it with these 'ere flowers; and she telled me the same
a bit ago, when I met 'er and axed 'er to let in 'ave a penny to buy
suthun to eat, cos no one wouldn't buy none of the flowers, and I was
jest starved. She sez as it's all my fault for not selling' of 'em,
and that if I wasn't idle, I could get rid of 'em fast enuff. But
that's not true, for I'se done my best--indeed I 'as!"

It really did seem a hard case. I knew, from personal observation,
that the charge of idleness was undeserved, and it was very unfair to
make the poor little thing suffer for a slackness of trade which she
could not help. To keep a growing child running about all the morning
in the open air without giving it a morsel of food to appease its
hunger till nearly twelve o'clock, was a piece of barbarity that
quite shocked me. For, however hard I may be by nature, and however
apt to drive my own barrow through the world without troubling myself
about the toes that happen to be in the way and to get pinched, yet I
do not think I have ever been guilty of gratuitous cruelty to either
man or beast; indeed, the mere sight of it always fills me with
disgust.

The mention of breakfast gave me a sudden bright idea of how to
assist the child without laying myself open to the reproaches of
prudence. Had I not saved a shilling the day before by breakfasting
at the restaurant instead of at the hotel? and was not a penny saved
a penny gained? I had never calculated on being able to begin gaining
anything as yet, so that that shilling was an addition to my funds
which I had not reckoned upon, and which I was clearly entitled to
regard as an extra--a thing that I could throw away or do what I
pleased with--an accidental item which need not be entered on my
receipts at all, so that prudence had no right to expect to be
consulted as to what was done with it. And, feeling quite certain of
the soundness of this argument, I did not wait to hear whether
prudence took the same view of the matter or not, but instantly
presented the coin to the child, recommending her to spend part of it
now in getting breakfast, and to reserve the remainder against some
future emergency.

The sight and feel of the shilling checked her tears with surprising
quickness, and her wan, melancholy, little physiognomy brightened up
wonderfully. Holding her basket towards me, she offered either to let
me pick out the best flowers for myself, or else to do it for me if I
liked; adding, with a slight hesitation, that perhaps there _might_
be one or two old flowers since yesterday that had got mixed among
this morning's lot, and if so, she would be more likely to know the
fresh ones than I should. The touch of confusion with which this was
said, made me suspect that the contents of her basket were by no
means so fresh as she professed them to be, and that she, being well
aware of that fact, was moved by an impulse of gratitude to proffer
her services as chooser in order that I might not be cheated.

Evidently it would be prudent to accept her offer if I wanted to have
anything out of her basket. But that was just what I felt rather
doubtful about doing. I had intended the shilling as a free gift, and
had had no idea of receiving anything in return; besides that, it
would be a nuisance to have a handful of flowers to carry about with
me, and they would probably have begun to fade by the time I got
home; so, altogether, I at first thought I would refuse them. On
second thoughts, however, I changed my mind. The flowers would
certainly brighten up my room, and I knew that I should like them if
I could have them transported there without trouble; and, after
all, it was just as well to have some value for one's money; and
as she took it for granted that I should do so, there would be no
disappointment to her in my having them. I said therefore--

"Will you pick me out a couple of good, fresh bunches, take them to a
house that is not far off, and leave them there, with a message that
Miss Caroline Jill wishes to have them put in water till she comes
back?"

"'Iss, lady," she answered; "I'll pick you the werry bestest and
freshest as I 'as--and thank you kindly for what you've give me.
What's the 'ouse as I'm to take 'em to?"

I gave her the address of my lodging, and then we separated; she
disappearing into the nearest baker's shop, and I continuing my way
to A. G. My experience of life had not given me enough confidence in
human nature to make me think it very likely that a street child was
to be relied upon to keep a promise; and consequently I thought it
highly problematical that I should find any flowers awaiting me on my
return. But yet I did not the least regret the shilling I had thrown
away upon her. It was a satisfaction to think that her hunger was
being appeased, at any rate; indeed, if I had not known that that had
been done, I should have exposed myself to the risk of feeling
uncomfortable whenever I thought of her ravenous condition all day.
So I had evidently acted for my own interest as well as hers.



                            CHAPTER IX.

                          A NERVOUS LADY.


One of the numerous omnibuses running down Oxford Street deposited me
pretty near where I wanted to go; and, after alighting, I had no
difficulty in finding some one to direct me to the address I was in
search of. This proved, to my surprise, to be a small greengrocer's
shop, where one would certainly not expect that there would be any
demand for a governess. However, it was unmistakably the address that
had been given in the advertisement, so I edged my way in, past the
piles of earthy baskets by which the entrance was almost choked, and
spoke to the owner of the shop--a jolly-looking, burly, middle-aged
man.

"Excuse my troubling you," said I, politely, "but I've called in
consequence of an advertisement for a daily governess by A. G. in
yesterday's _Morning Post_. Is this the right place?" And as I spoke
it flashed across my mind whether perhaps the initials in the
advertisement represented the words "a greengrocer."

As soon as the man heard the object of my visit, his face twinkled
with amusement in a way that seemed to imply there must be some
capital joke connected with the affair. "Oh yes, Miss," he answered,
"this be the right place, sure enough! P'raps you b'ain't used to
greengrocers as rekvires daily-guvnesses vere you comes from--be you
now?"

The man looked so perfectly good-tempered that it was impossible to
take offence at his enjoyment of the unknown joke, and I laughed as I
replied, "No, I can't say that we do often have that happen."

"Ah, well, so I thought," he returned, chuckling. "And that just
brings us to the werry pint as 'as to be considered in this 'ere
bizness. That is--no offence my askin'--but vere _do_ you come from,
Miss?"

I told him the address of my lodging.

"'Ealthy districk, Miss, is it?" he enquired.

"Yes, as far as I know," replied I, feeling rather astonished at the
question, and reflecting that my assertion was a perfectly safe one,
seeing that I knew nothing whatever about the matter.

"Any illness in the 'ouse, Miss?" he continued, holding
up his fingers and checking off on them the name of each
successive disease as he enumerated it; "any fivver, diptheery,
coleera, measles, mumps, small-pox, chicking-pox, 'oopin'-corf,
nettle-rash--that's only nine; there's a tenth as I was to ax
about, I knows; what the juice was it now? Oh yes! the one as is a
flower and a colour--yaller-rose--rose-yaller! Dashed if I can say
it right."

"Is roseola the word you want?" I suggested.

"_That's_ it, Miss, thanky!" he exclaimed joyfully, but without
venturing on a second attempt at pronouncing the word; "now, be there
any of these 'ere as I've mentioned at the 'ouse vere you're livin'?
or any other infexshus complaint as I 'aven't mentioned, as p'raps
may be some bran new invention of the doctors since the old list was
made out?"

I had never thought of making any inquiries of the kind at my
lodging, so I answered "no" boldly. Even if there were any illness,
at all events I did not know of it, so my negative was obviously not
to be considered as wilfully misleading, whatever the state of
sanitary affairs might be. "Werry good," he returned; "then if you'll
be so good as go round the corner of the street over the vay, you'll
find yourself in Fairy Avenue, and at No. 114 you'll find A. G.,
that's to say, Mrs. Green. You see she's mortial afeard of what she
calls jurms, and's allers thinking as strange people's sure to have
'em in their pockets or their clothes, or some-veres about 'em, ready
to turn loose on whoever they meets. So when she adwertizes for a
guvness or a servant, she mostly axes me to let 'em come 'ere fust,
that I may make sure as they don't come from no infexshus place afore
they goes to 'er 'ouse. Did you ever 'ear of sitch a ridiklus fancy
'afore in all your born days? It makes me fit to split with larfin
sometimes. But there! it ain't but werry little trouble to me, and I
don't mind oblidgin' a good customer like 'er, as takes a sight of
wedgebuttles and fruits and sitch things. 'I considers 'em pertickler
'olesome artikles of dite,' sez she to me often. 'So do I too, mum,'
sez I back to 'er. And good reason vy I _should_ inkcourage the
notion, seein' as she buys 'em all from me!"

Thanking the man for his information, and feeling that I had gained
an insight into Mrs. Green's character which might come useful to me
in my dealings with her, I proceeded to 114 Fairy Avenue. On ringing
the bell and saying that I had come about the governess' situation, I
was requested to wait in the hall, whilst the servant went to see if
Mrs. Green was disengaged.

It was very evident that that lady took care no one should enter her
doors without undergoing some amount of fumigation, as in the middle
of the hall there stood a sort of small brazier, wherein some kind of
disinfecting compound was smouldering, and sending out light curls of
smoke which impregnated the air with a sickly smell. By the odour of
this smoke, combined with that of carbolic acid, the whole house was
pervaded, as the floors were scrubbed with carbolic soap twice a week
regularly, and carbolic acid was freely applied to whatever incoming
thing could, by any stretch of imagination, be regarded as a possible
medium for the introduction of those "germs of disease" which Mrs.
Green held in horror. In the efficacy of any inodorous disinfectant
she had no belief at all. How, she would say, could stuff that was
not strong enough to be perceptible to the nose be strong enough to
be relied on to purify the atmosphere, and affect any germs that
might be floating about in it? Don't tell _her_ to use a thing like
Cordy's fluid, that had not any smell at all! No, give her carbolic
acid or chloride of lime, which made difference enough in the air for
one's nose to take cognisance of--then there could be no mistake
about their presence, and one could feel satisfied.

She did not admit in to her room till she had sent the servant back
to inquire whether I had been to the greengrocer's and been forwarded
to her by him. My answer being satisfactory, I was ushered into her
sitting-room and invited to take a seat near the door, and a good way
off from herself. We then proceeded to talk business, and I found
that she wanted a governess to come every morning to instruct and
take charge of her little girl of ten years old, and that the amount
of knowledge necessary to satisfy her demands was not beyond the
limits of my acquirements. Having discovered this much I lost no time
in asking what salary she gave, for I did not want her to anticipate
this question by asking me how much I expected to receive, as the
fact was that I had not an idea of what daily governesses were
generally paid, and feared exposing my ignorance. The terms she
offered were so far beyond what I had thought likely, that I was
delighted, and at once determined not to let slip the situation if
I could help it. Consequently I became very anxious to ingratiate
myself with her, and looked out for an opportunity of doing so by
manifesting sympathy with the dread of infection which I knew to be a
weak point of hers. For if people have any specially absurd craze,
they are sure to regard an indication of the same mania on the part
of another person as a strong recommendation and reason for thinking
well of that person. I had not long to wait for the opportunity I
desired, as she said; "There is one thing I must tell you, Miss Jill,
and that is, that I insist upon every member of my establishment,
without exception, conforming to the regulations I make in order to
guard against the introduction of infection to the house. Should you
be prepared to do this?"

"Most certainly," I replied, though in truth I had no intention
of troubling my head about the matter more than I had done
heretofore--that is to say, not at all. "I shall be only too glad to
do so. For I must confess that on that point I am what some people
call quite foolishly nervous."

"It is _impossible_ to be too nervous about it," she returned, "and I
am glad to find that you have a proper appreciation of the necessity
of a carefulness which is a duty no less to society than to one's
self and one's family. A fresh case of illness means the setting up
of a fresh manufactory of horrible, insidious, deadly germs of
disease, which, once set going in the world, cannot be recalled, and
can only with difficulty be destroyed. How many deaths might not be
caused by germs made in and issuing from this house, if we were to
have some infectious illness here? And if the illness had been
admitted through any negligence of mine, should not I be responsible
for all of those deaths?"

"Quite true," answered I, gravely. "I never was struck by that
before, but I see how unanswerably correct your reasoning is. How I
wish that every one else had an equally sensitive conscience!"

"Yes, it is indeed sad," she replied, sighing, "to see what an amount
of culpable carelessness and foolhardiness exists in the world! I do
my best to make these things appear in their true light, but it is
not often that I can succeed in inspiring my own spirit of prudence
into any one else. I assure you that I have even heard of my
precautions being laughed at and called ridiculous."

I kept my countenance heroically; and as she paused, as though
expecting me to make some remark, I exclaimed, "It seems hardly
credible!"

"So one would have thought," she returned sadly, "and especially in
the face of the outbreak of scarlet fever which has recently occurred
in so many parts of London, and which every one must have read of in
the papers. However, to return to business. Will you kindly let me
have the address of your last situation? Should the answer to my
inquiries there prove satisfactory, I shall be glad to engage you,
as, from what I have seen of you, I have every reason to think you
will suit me."

Now, of course, I had foreseen that no one would be likely to engage
me without knowing (or supposing themselves to know, which would come
to the same thing) something about who I was, and I foresaw also that
it might be against me not to be able to give the name of any one who
could be inquired of about me, either personally or by letter. To
meet this difficulty I had concocted a story which would, I hoped, be
accepted as a sufficient explanation of the matter. But I had never
dreamt of any one's being so absurdly afraid of infection as Mrs.
Green was; and the discovery of her foible inspired me with the
brilliant idea of offering her a personal reference which she would
be certain not to avail herself of.

I replied, therefore, that as I had been a little out of sorts I had
been living quietly at home for the last six months, in order to
regain my health, and that I had been previously teaching in the
family of Mr. Thomson--mentioning the name of a clergyman in the east
of London whose parish I remembered having read about not long before
in a newspaper as being pretty nearly decimated by scarlet fever.
This gentleman, I said, had been most kind to me, having not only
given me a written testimonial to character, but also promised that
he would at any time write to, or see, any person on my behalf. I
only hoped, I put in parenthetically, that he was not overworking
himself in the terrible visitation of scarlet fever that had lately
come upon his parish; but he was such an excellent man, and so
indefatigable in his labours amongst the poor, that I feared it was
but too likely he would sacrifice himself to them. If anything should
happen to him I should feel I had lost one of my best friends. But,
however busy he might be, I felt sure he would keep his promise, and
would certainly find time to answer any inquiries that Mrs. Green
might wish to make about me, whether in person or by post.

She, however, would as soon have thought of walking into a blazing
furnace as into Mr. Thomson's parish in its then condition, and, as
I expected, thought epistolary communication with him was but little
less perilous.

"Ahem!" she answered, "I am afraid Mr. Thomson is not a very easy
person to refer to just at present, and I do not quite see how it is
to be managed. I could not _think_ of going to see him, and I am
doubtful that it would be prudent to write to him either, especially
since he is so devoted to his parishioners, as you say. Men of that
kind are almost invariably careless about proper precautions. Perhaps
he would write me an answer when actually in a sick-room; and then
imagine how that letter, full of contagion, would be mixed in the
post with other letters, impart to them its fatal properties, and
thus scatter sickness and, perhaps, death far and wide! No, never
will _I_ wilfully run the risk of causing disasters in this way,
whatever other people may do."

"I have the testimonial he wrote me at the time I discontinued
teaching in his family, if you would think that sufficient, madam," I
replied, beginning to fumble in my pocket as though in search of the
document in question. Of course I had no such thing about me in
reality, but I knew that I could easily pretend to have forgotten it,
and then write a sham one and send it by post.

She raised her hand hastily to check my producing the paper. "Wait
one moment," she cried, looking somewhat uneasy. "How long is it
since the testimonial was written?"

"Just six months ago," answered I.

"Was there any fever or infectious illness in the parish at that
time?" she inquired.

"Not that I am aware of," I returned.

"Still it might have been there without your knowledge, might it
not?" she continued.

I allowed that this was not impossible, but added that I did not
believe the district to have been at all unhealthy then.

"What makes me anxious for certainty about this," she said, "is,
that supposing Mr. Thomson had visited some sick person just before
writing your testimonial, he would have probably had germs of
disease clinging to him; and those germs, being communicated to the
writing-paper, would be lingering there still, and be a source of
peril to whoever comes in contact with that piece of paper. Possibly,
however, you have taken the precaution of disinfecting it by
fumigation, or in some other way?"

"No, I have not," I answered; "I am ashamed to say that I did not
think of it--a most reprehensible omission on my part!"

"Ah, well," she replied, with an air of indulgence, "it was an
oversight, no doubt; but then you are still very young, and one can
hardly expect young people to be as thoughtful as old ones. But we
will remedy the omission at once. There is some disinfecting powder
in that square box on the table beside you. I shall be obliged if you
will sprinkle it thoroughly over the paper before giving it me to
read."

I recommenced feeling in my pocket, and then exclaimed, "Oh how very
stupid of me! I made sure that I had brought that testimonial with
me, but I must have left it on my table, as I find I have not got it
after all. Will you allow me to post it to you as soon as I get home?
Should you think it satisfactory, and write me word when you wish me
to commence my duties, I will come at whatever time you appoint."

The look of relief that came over her face on hearing that I had not
got the testimonial showed me that she regarded it with considerable
distrust, and was not greatly desirous of touching it.

"Yes, you can post it to me as you propose," she said; "and I will
let you know my decision by letter also. Of course you will disinfect
the paper carefully before sending it. I shall be glad if you will
take some of this powder for the purpose, as it is a disinfectant on
which I can rely thoroughly, and has so strong a smell that if you
were to forget to use it, my nose would immediately inform me of that
fact, and I should be thus warned against opening the paper. By the
by, in the event of my engaging you, should you be likely to continue
the engagement for any length of time? or to break it off again
shortly? My reason for asking is, that I am most averse to constant
changes in my establishment, because that means constant fresh risk
of infection from strangers; and therefore I prefer not entering into
an engagement with any one who likes to be perpetually moving about
from place to place."

It will be remembered that my intention was merely to take a
governess's place temporarily, to eke out my means till I had learnt
hairdressing and could get a travelling-maid's situation. But I
really did not see that she had a right to expect me to confide all
my private little schemes to her, so I said nothing about this, and
only assured her that I had a horror of perpetual changes, and that
a permanent situation was exactly what I was hoping to find.

"There is one thing more that I forgot to mention," she continued.
"I should object to your making use of an omnibus or train-car in
coming to give my daughter her daily lessons. I consider public
conveyances of that kind most unsafe, on account of their liability
to contain germs of disease left by some one or other of the great
variety of passengers who travel in them."

"I quite agree with you," I answered, "and hardly ever go in one of
those conveyances on that account. I should hope to come here on foot
as a rule; and if the weather should make that impossible, I should
take a hansom, as being the least dangerous vehicle available."

I felt I was pretty safe in making this promise, though I meant to
come by omnibus all the same. There was not much chance of her
inspecting the passengers in the numerous omnibuses running down
Oxford Street and the Bayswater Road; and they did not pass up Fairy
Avenue, so I should have no choice about walking the last part of my
journey. Thus she would see me arrive daily on foot; her mind would
be at ease; I should be perfectly free to use the convenient omnibus
as much as I chose; and so we should both be happy.

Everything being settled, I took leave of her, and had reached the
door of the room to go, when she spoke again. "On the whole, Miss
Jill," she said, "I do not think I need trouble you to send me that
testimonial. From what I have seen of you, I have very little doubt
that we shall suit each other; and I feel satisfied to engage you at
once, as the peculiar circumstances of the case render it impossible
to hold any communication with the person who is your reference. Can
you begin the lessons to-morrow morning at nine o'clock?"

"Certainly, madam," I replied; "you may depend upon my being here
then, and I am much obliged to you."

Who would have thought that a letter six months old could have
inspired her with so much fear as to induce her to dispense with
every shadow of precaution about ascertaining the character of an
individual to whose care she was willing to commit her child?

Marvelling greatly at her folly, and congratulating myself on my
success, I returned to my lodging, where I found that the little girl
of whom I had bought the flowers, had duly left them for me. It was
more than I had expected her to do, certainly; and the only way I
could account for such astonishing honesty was by supposing that no
one else had wanted to buy them, so that there had been no temptation
to her to break her promise and defraud me of my nosegay. But I
believe I judged her with too much cynicism; for, long afterwards,
she proved that she had been really grateful for the breakfast I had
given her, and was anxious to show her gratitude in deeds.



                            CHAPTER X.

                        CHANGE OF SITUATION.

I was naturally rather curious to know how my family would take the
discovery of my flight, and for some time afterwards I used to look
in the newspapers with a half-expectation of seeing a paragraph
headed "Mysterious disappearance of a young lady;" or else an offer
of a reward for information concerning me; or else, perhaps (but this
I considered as being merely _possible_, and not at all _likely_), an
entreaty to me to return, and all should be forgiven. As nothing of
the kind appeared, however, I perceived that my relatives had the
good sense to understand the wisdom of washing their dirty clothes at
home, and that they did not intend to draw a needless amount of
attention to the fact that I had run away from them. It was
inevitable that my having done so would be a nine day's wonder and
topic of gossip in the immediate neighbourhood of Castle Manor; but
it did not follow that our domestic want of harmony need be
proclaimed to all the world and his wife also; and so the matter
was not published in the papers.

Mrs. Green's little girl Fanny, to whom I was engaged to give
instruction, was heavy and uninteresting enough to have driven
well-nigh distracted any governess who cared about shoving on her
pupils, and deriving credit from them; so it was lucky that I was
less energetic and devoted to my work. As it was for only a very
brief period that I meant to superintend Fanny's studies, it was
perfectly immaterial to me whether she progressed in them or not;
and I did not attempt to teach her anything beyond what was to be
got into her head without much trouble--which limitation reduced our
educational labours to a surprisingly small compass. Her stupidity
did not prevent us from getting on together most harmoniously; for
though I did not do much towards increasing her stock of knowledge,
yet I atoned for that deficiency by opening her mind with an amount
of general and varied entertainment with which no previous governess
had ever provided her. Sometimes I told her any marvellous stories
that I knew, adding touches, as I went on, to heighten the interest
of whatever parts seemed to astonish her especially. Or else I would
say or do something extravagantly absurd, just as gravely as though
it were the most matter-of-fact speech or action possible, and amuse
myself by watching the look of absolute bewilderment that would come
over her face at first, and speculating on how long an interval would
elapse before it would be followed by the succeeding grin which
betokened that her slowly-working brain had at last awakened to
the fact of there being a joke afoot. By such methods as these I
contrived to find amusement for both myself and her, and I have very
little doubt that she approved of me highly, and regarded me as being
far and away the pleasantest teacher she had ever had to do with.

That portion of my time which was not occupied either in giving or
receiving lessons I spent chiefly in attending to the necessities of
my wardrobe, loafing about in the parks and streets, and doing
whatever sight-seeing was to be had gratuitously. I did not indulge
in any amusement costing money, except theatres, to which I allowed
myself a few visits as a treat and reward for my self-denial in
other respects--theatrical performances being a form of entertainment
to which I have always been particularly partial.

Thus three or four weeks passed quickly away, and by the end of that
time I had mastered the art of hairdressing sufficiently to enable me
to undertake the duties of a lady's-maid; for I was far more
industrious in the capacity of pupil than in that of teacher, and
laboured a great deal more zealously to profit by M. Candot's
instructions than I did to make Fanny Green profit by mine. It is
wonderful how much easier it is to take trouble when one wishes to
secure value for money spent, than it is when the object of one's
exertions is merely to give an equivalent for money received!

Having qualified myself for the calling I meant to adopt, the next
thing was to take steps to hear of a situation; and to that end I put
an advertisement in the _Times_, _Morning Post_, and _Guardian_,
offering C. J.'s services to any lady going abroad who required a
thoroughly efficient maid, capable of acting as courier if necessary.
This notice bore fruit speedily in the shape of a note addressed to
C. J., which I found awaiting me on my return from Mrs. Green's one
afternoon, and which ran as follows:--

                                      "2000 EATON SQUARE, _Thursday_.

    "Lady Mervyn writes in answer to C. J.'s advertisement, as she
    wishes to meet with a good travelling-maid. Lady Mervyn will be
    glad if C. J. will call at her house to-morrow evening at 5.30
    _punctually_."

How strange that my notice should happen to have been seen and
answered by Lady Mervyn--a person between whom and myself there was a
remote connection, and whom I had met years ago when I was a child!
Would it be safe for me to enter her service? or should I be running
too great a risk of recognition? No, I did not think I need be
afraid. Kitty was the only one of the family who was at all likely to
remember me, as I had been much more in her company than in theirs on
the occasion of our previous meeting at Lugano. And that she had no
recollection of me I had already proved at Sparkton Station; which
forgetfulness on her part, by the by, I did not now feel the least
bit inclined to resent, having quite got over the little soreness and
irritation which it had caused me at the moment.

Yes; I believed I should be as safe from discovery at Lady Mervyn's
as anywhere else, and determined that I would take the situation. I
was pleased with the idea of being under the same roof as Kitty
Mervyn, on account of the opportunities which I should then have of
observing this girl, whose character had interested me and excited
my curiosity. And then, too, I might reasonably look forward to
discovering some explanation of her having chosen to keep Captain
Edward Norroy's photograph hidden away in her purse as she had
done. A _carte-de-visite_ is ordinarily stuck into an album, and
I wanted to know why she should have treated this particular _carte_
differently to that of any other acquaintance.

These anticipations were checked by the sudden recollection that I
was counting my chickens before they were hatched; that I had not yet
got the place I was looking forward to; and that perhaps Lady Mervyn
might not think fit to engage me after all. When did she say I was to
go there? Looking again at the note I saw that it was dated the day
before. Yesterday was Thursday, and to-day Friday, so I must wait
upon her ladyship this very same afternoon, and had no time to lose
in providing myself with that necessary article--a character.

About two months before there had died a certain Lady Brown, who was
rather a well-known person on account of her having lived much abroad
and published a large number of books containing her experiences of
the Riviera, the Dolomites, the Alps, the Rhine, and other foreign
places. Her husband, Sir Bartholomew Brown, had gone to the East
since her death, and was supposed to be wandering about somewhere in
Persia at the present moment. As, therefore, no reference was
possible to either the deceased Lady Brown or her husband, and as
they had been childless, it occurred to me that if I asserted myself
to have been her maid up to the time of her death, there was no one
to disprove the statement. Accordingly, I indited a character
purporting to be written by Sir Bartholomew, wherein it was set forth
that Caroline Jill had been for two years in his late wife's service;
had only left on account of that lady's death; had given entire
satisfaction during the whole time of her service; was a first-rate
traveller; and was a trustworthy, sober, steady, exemplary, and
in-all-ways-to-be-recommended-maid.

I wasted several sheets of paper over this composition before I could
please myself; and when I had succeeded in getting it to my mind I
copied it out in a feigned hand--bold, rather scrawling, legible, and
masculine-looking. Of course there was a danger of the forgery being
detected, if Lady Mervyn should happen to be acquainted with Sir
Bartholomew's handwriting. But then it was quite likely that she was
_not_; and I would try to find out if she knew him before I produced
the character; and, even if the worst came to the worst, the chances
were that she would not take the trouble to prosecute me, and
I should have just as good a prospect as before of obtaining a
situation with some one else.

By the time my preparations were completed it was later than I
thought, and as the underlining of the word "punctually" in the note
made me think it important not to be late, I started off in such a
hurry that I tumbled downstairs and bruised myself unpleasantly.
However, I did not stay to doctor my hurts then, but hurried on, and
arrived at my destination just as the Eaton Square Church clock was
striking half-past five.

It then appeared that my fear of being late had been quite
uncalled-for, and that I might have spared myself the bruises which
my haste had caused me, for Lady Mervyn had not yet returned from
driving. The fact was she had followed the usual plan of fashionable
ladies and gentlemen, who, when they make an appointment with an
inferior, take care that they themselves shall not be kept waiting,
but do not the least object to inflicting that annoyance on the other
party. No doubt such people consider that the time of a servant,
tradesman, farmer, or poor person is much less valuable than their
own, and a thing of so little importance that it may be wasted at
pleasure.

On stating the object of my visit, and that Lady Mervyn had directed
me to call at that time, I was told to sit down and wait till she
came in. It was past 6 o'clock when she returned, and even then she
did not send for me immediately, but delayed doing so till she had
leisurely examined the cards that had been left for her whilst she
was out, refreshed herself with a cup of tea, and written a couple of
notes. Having accomplished these things, she at last gave orders for
me to be shown into her presence.

She was about middle height, slightly made, and aristocratic looking.
As she was rather short-sighted she wore a _pince-nez_, and this she
put up, and coolly stared at me through, as soon as I entered the
room. After a prolonged survey she dropped it, but had recourse to it
again several times during the interview, always putting it up with
an air of having suddenly bethought her of some feature, limb,
or other part of me which she had hitherto omitted to study
sufficiently, and at which she wanted to have another good look. I
must say I thought that she used the _pince-nez_ in a manner which
would have been considered intolerably rude if it had been directed
at any one in her own rank of life; but then she regarded a servant
as being a different sort of animal from herself, and would have
laughed at the idea of a maid's not liking to be stared at as if she
were made of wood or stone, instead of flesh and blood.

She began by inquiring my name and age; to which I replied that I was
called Caroline Jill; and that I was just twenty-two. For, though my
real age was eighteen, yet I thought that that seemed rather too
young for a person representing herself as having been a lady's-maid
for the last two years, and that therefore I had better give myself
credit for a few more years than I was actually entitled to.

"Twenty-two!" she repeated; "you don't look your age. I should not
have thought you so old as that. How long were you in your last
situation? and what was the cause of your leaving?"

"I was there two years, and I only left on account of the lady's
death," I replied. "Did your ladyship know the late Lady Brown?"

She shook her head.

"Perhaps your ladyship may have heard of her," I continued; "she
was the wife of Sir Bartholomew Brown, and used to write books
sometimes?"

"Oh yes; I did not know her, but I know who you mean now," answered
Lady Mervyn; "was hers your last place?"

"Yes," I replied, feeling that the ground was safe, and that I might
produce my false testimonial. "Ever since her death, two months ago,
Sir Bartholomew has been away from England; but, before going, he
kindly gave me a character, for fear of my having any difficulty
about getting another situation through there being no one from my
last place for me to refer to. Here is what he wrote. He was good
enough to tell me, when last I saw him, that he considered me to be
the best maid his wife had ever had to travel with, and that I did
just as well as a courier."

So saying I handed over my forgery to Lady Mervyn, who perused it
carefully, and then returned it to me.

"I always prefer a personal reference if possible," she said;
"but perhaps I might consent to dispense with it for once, in an
exceptional case like this, where it evidently cannot be had.
Certainly Sir Bartholomew speaks of you in very high terms. I do not
want you for myself, but for one of my daughters, who is going abroad
with my sister, Mrs. Rollin. You would have to attend partly on Mrs.
Rollin also; but she will not want much done for her, as she does not
care about a maid's assistance in most things. As they do not intend
taking a courier, they must have a really efficient travelling-maid,
who can see to their luggage, take tickets, and all that sort of
thing. I suppose you have had plenty of experience in that way with
Lady Brown? Can you talk French and German pretty easily?"

I replied in the affirmative, that I also knew Italian, Spanish, a
little Dutch, and a few words of Greek, and that I could keep
accounts in some foreign coins.

"En verité, vous ne vous vantez pas mal!" she returned, looking
insultingly sceptical as to my accomplishments being as extensive as
I claimed them to be. "Voyons d'abord pour le français." And she then
continued the conversation in French, whilst I replied in the same
tongue. The question of wages was propounded next. I had no intention
of depreciating my value by demanding too little for my services, and
I knew that courier-maids were always paid very high, so I said that
I should not like to take less than what I had received from Lady
Brown, which was £35 and all found. That was very high Lady Mervyn
said; still, she would not object to give it to a maid who was really
worth it. After a few more questions she observed that my French was
satisfactory, at all events; and that, as she was not herself a very
good German scholar, she would get her eldest daughter to test my
proficiency in that line. Ringing the bell she told the footman, who
answered it, to request Miss Mervyn to come to her. When that young
lady arrived her mother desired her to find out how I talked German.
As I came triumphantly out of her examination, and also translated
accurately an Italian quotation which happened to be in one of the
newspapers lying on the table, Lady Mervyn's incredulity as to my
accomplishments evidently diminished. I could see that she began to
think my pretensions to knowledge were better founded than she had at
first supposed them to be, and that she was now inclined to take upon
trust the skill in foreign moneys, and in Spanish, Dutch, and Greek,
to which I laid claim.

She hesitated, considered and reconsidered, and scrutinised me
through the _pince-nez_ for some time before she could make up her
mind whether to engage me or not, and finally decided to do so. Mrs.
Rollin and Miss Mervyn were going abroad in another ten days, she
said, and as it would be well for them and me to have a few days at
home in which to get used to one another before starting on our
travels, she wished me to return to her house and begin my engagement
on that day week. This I was quite ready to do, as I had no doubt of
quickly getting free from Mrs. Green whenever I chose.

One thing which I had evolved during the conversation with Lady
Mervyn was a grievous disappointment to me; and that was, that I was
not--at all events for a while--to become a member of her own
establishment. I had been confidently reckoning on being brought near
Kitty; but it appeared that this was not to be my destiny after all,
unless, by some piece of luck, she should chance to be the daughter
who was to accompany Mrs. Rollin, and whose especial attendant I was
to be. My mind was set at rest on this point before I left Lady
Mervyn's room, for, just as I was about to depart, she exclaimed,
"Wait a moment! I forgot that the young lady whom you will wait on
may like to see you if she is at home. Perhaps, however, she is not,
as she was to dine out early to-night before going to the theatre.
Has Kitty started yet, do you know?" she continued, turning to the
daughter who had been experimenting on my German.

"Yes," was the answer; "she went ten minutes ago, just before I came
to you."

"Ah, never mind then, Jill; you can go now," returned Lady Mervyn.
Whereupon I took myself off, mightly pleased at having discovered
that the Miss Mervyn whom I was to serve was just the one whom I
wanted it to be.

The next thing was to terminate my engagement with Mrs. Green, and
I meant to make her do this herself. For this purpose I informed her
next morning that I was sorry to say that I found the daily walk to
her house was more than I could manage, therefore I must ask her to
permit me to come by omnibus in future.

She replied (as I had felt very sure she would do) that she could not
on any account consent to expose herself and her household to such a
risk of infection. Could I not change my residence, and come to live
nearer her house? I answered that I did not wish to do that, as I
was quite comfortable in my lodging, and should probably have a
difficulty in finding another to suit me equally well.

She returned that it was most annoying, and that in that case there
was no choice but to conclude our connection together. That would
necessitate her looking out for another governess, which she greatly
disliked doing because there was always _some_ danger of infection
from strangers coming to the premises, notwithstanding all the
precautions she could take. She would never have engaged me if she
had thought there was a chance of the engagement lasting so short a
time; but I had seemed so anxious for a permanent place that she
thought I was as averse to constant changes as she was herself.
However, there was no help for it if I declined to change my abode,
for it was out of the question for her to allow any one coming daily
to her house to make use of an omnibus.

Poor woman! I think she would have had a fit if she had known that
I had done that very thing day after day since I had been teaching
her child; and she was certainly an excellent illustration of the
truth of the old proverb, "Where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to
be wise." Yet I don't think she was very singular in this after
all. How many of us are there--especially of those who are heads of
houses--whose peace of mind might not be considerably disturbed if
we did but know the extent to which other people are in the habit of
setting at naught and ignoring some particular pet prejudice of our
own?

It amused me to affect deep sympathy with a piece of folly which I
was laughing at in my sleeve all the time; so I replied that I fully
recognised the truth of what she said, and that I was truly grieved
to be the means of exposing her to fresh peril from germs of disease
clinging to the clothes of applicants for my situation; but that
since _she_ objected to my coming by a 'bus, and _I_ objected to
leave my present lodging, there was unfortunately no option about my
ceasing to instruct Fanny.

She sighed, and answered that she was afraid that was true. At the
same time, she could not in justice omit to say that she considered
me to have behaved very well in at once telling her honestly of my
inability to continue to attend to my duties without travelling by
that dangerous conveyance which she had expressly prohibited me from
using. She feared there were some people who would have been less
straightforward, and who would, in such a case, have slily disobeyed
her, and endeavoured to conceal from her what they were doing. But
then no one was likely to be guilty of such unprincipled conduct as
that whose views were as sound as she knew mine to be on the subject
of infection! Could I go on coming to her house as before for a few
days longer? If so she would be very glad, as, perhaps, by then she
might be able to hear of a successor for me. But if the walk was too
far for me to manage, why, of course, the engagement must come to an
end at once, as she could not consent to my coming by omnibus for
even one single day.

To this I made answer, with perfect truth, that I should be most
happy to go on coming in the same way as I had hitherto done till the
following Thursday. After that, however, I could undertake it no
longer, and supposed, therefore, that she would wish our engagement
to conclude then.

She assented to this, and we parted on the best of terms with one
another.

Perhaps it may be thought odd that I did not pursue the ordinary
method of simply giving notice, and taking myself off, when I wanted
to go to another situation. Of course I could easily have done so if
I had liked; but in that case I should have lost all the fun that I
got out of the matter by the other plan. It amused me to make her act
as I chose, and herself dismiss me when I wished her to do so; and I
enjoyed feeling that her weak point rendered her in my hands an
unsuspecting puppet, that would kick or not, according to how I chose
to pull the strings. Be it remembered that love of fun has always
been a much stronger element in my character than amiability.



                            CHAPTER XI.

                       AN UNWELCOME ADMIRER.


So now I was going to be a lady's-maid. I knew that the customs,
ideas, traditions, and general mode of thought prevailing in the
rank of life I was about to enter, would be likely to differ in many
ways from those to which I had hitherto been accustomed; and this
knowledge naturally made me rather anxious as to how easy I might
find it to adapt myself to my novel position, and to the people with
whom I should have to associate. I felt that I was on the brink of a
completely new experience, and looked forward with more trepidation
than I had expected to my initiation therein on joining Lord Mervyn's
household as a servant. Under these circumstances I laid down two
rules for my guidance, to which I determined to adhere as far as
possible: these were--first, carefully to avoid making enemies
amongst my fellow-domestics; and secondly, to try and discover and
conform to whatever unwritten laws of etiquette might be generally
established amongst them. And in accordance with the second of these
rules, I determined that on the day when I was due at 2000 Eaton
Square, I would not make my appearance there till towards supper
time; for I had often noticed at home that whenever a new servant
was coming, he or she was sure not to turn up till as late in the day
as possible; and from this I inferred that to arrive early at a new
place was probably not considered the right thing.

It was, therefore, quite late in the evening when I drove up to Lord
Mervyn's door. The various articles I had had to purchase in order to
equip myself properly, had caused my possessions to outgrow the
modest little bag that had sufficed to contain them when I came to
London a few weeks before; and so I was now accompanied by a box
large enough to make a respectable show as it stood on the roof of
the cab which brought me.

That cab, by the by, is always a sore recollection to me, for I
cannot forget that it was the means, indirectly, of my vanity
receiving a sharp blow. The way of it was this.

As I knew that Lady Mervyn would defray my expenses in getting to her
house, of course I did not hesitate about coming in a cab; and of
course also, in charging the fare to her, I put it down as being just
double what I had really paid. When she came to settle her accounts
with me she demurred to this item, saying that the charge was far
beyond what it ought to have been for the distance from my lodging to
Eaton Square. I replied innocently that I had thought it seemed a
good deal, and had said so to the cabman at the time; but that as he
had declared it was not a penny more than he was entitled to, and as
I had supposed he must know the proper fare better than I did, I had
given him what he asked.

Lady Mervyn accepted the explanation as satisfactory, and passed on
to the next item without further question. But, when paying me, she
remarked contemptuously that I must be uncommonly silly to let myself
be cheated so easily, and that in future she advised me to remember
that the word of a London cabman was not _always_ to be relied on
implicitly.

As if _I_ needed any advice of that kind! Was it possible to hear
myself credited with such folly, and yet not refute the insulting
accusation instantly? _I_ to be considered such a greenhorn--_I_ who
prided myself on being anything but soft and easy to take in!

Stung to the quick by her scornful words, my self-esteem would hardly
consent to submit to the affront in silence. It urged me to remind
her of the fact that there could, in any case, be no question of my
having let _myself_ be cheated, since it was not _I_ who was the
person by whom the fare was eventually to be paid. But such a retort,
though gratifying to my injured feelings, would have evidently been
to the last degree unbecoming to my position as lady's-maid. Luckily
my sense of this sufficed to keep me from answering her as I longed
to do, and I managed to listen humbly to the unmerited reproach of
gullibility, just as though I acquiesced in the justice of it. But it
was only by a desperate effort that I could thus control myself, for
I was wounded in a point where I was peculiarly sensitive. The
thought of the slur that had been cast on my knowledge of the world
and hard-headedness rankled in my breast for long afterwards,
irritating me to such an extent that I could not help feeling that my
dishonesty in overcharging Lady Mervyn was punished after all, and
that I had only come off second best in the affair. For the amount of
pecuniary profit I gained by it was absolutely insignificant, and
certainly inadequate to counterbalance the mortification which it
entailed upon my pride.

The thought of this annoyance has led me away from the proper course
of my narrative. I apologise for the digression, and return to the
evening when I and my chattels were deposited by the cab at 2000
Eaton Square.

The dignity of the post I was to fill exonerated me from having to
join the common herd who supped in the servants' hall, and gave me
standing in the higher and more select society occupying the
housekeeper's room. Here we fared most sumptuously, for Lady Mervyn
had had a small dinner-party that night, and on these occasions it
was customary for the servants to finish up the relics of the feast
if they cared to do so. Bearing this in mind, the cook never omitted
to make the dishes of a liberal size, or to concoct a sufficient
amount of whatever sauce was required for the various _entrées_,
puddings, etc., to be able to keep back some of it when they were
sent up to the dining-room. By this means it was easy afterwards to
renovate most of them for downstairs use, even though the sauce might
have been popular with the gentry, and wholly consumed upstairs--at
least, as much of it as ever went there. Our meal, therefore, was
little inferior to, and almost identical with, that which had been
set before the guests overhead. It terminated with some capital
ice-pudding and dessert ices, of which there was an ample supply, in
well frozen condition;--this was thanks to the care of the butler,
who had helped the ladies and gentlemen with a very sparing hand,
and then at once sent the remainder to be preserved for us in the
refrigerator.

My companions seemed so well inclined to be civil and to welcome me
amongst them, that I began to shake off my nervousness, and to think
that I was going to get on swimmingly. It was evidently considered
that in the presence of a newcomer like me, the first appropriate
topic of conversation to bring forward was the character of our
employers; and as every one in the room delivered his or her opinion
on the subject with perfect freedom, I soon picked up a good deal of
highly interesting information.

Lady Mervyn was described as being "reg'lar out and out worldly, a
good bit more of a Turk than you would think from the quiet looks of
her; a bit mean, too, and one of those ladies who go poking their
noses into a larder to see what's there pretty near every morning."
I could see that the cook considered the last mentioned custom to be
highly objectionable, and an amount of _surveillance_ which was both
uncalled for and aggravating.

The verdict on the eldest daughter was that she was "not much to look
at, and a bit of a screw, but better tempered than Lady M."

The most popular member of the family was evidently Kitty, who was
pronounced to be "'andsome, merry, spirity, and pleasant-spoken to
both 'igh and low. For all that, though, you can see that she'll
never be satisfied without being first fiddle, or pretty near it,
wherever she is, and that in 'er 'art she likes 'igh folk and swells
better than them as isn't. She don't show 'er pride on the outside,
p'raps, so much as some do; but it's there all the same, and you
won't often find an 'ortier young lady, go where you will. She's 'er
ma's favourite, she is, and bound to marry a top-sawyer some
day--she'd never be 'appy with any one as wasn't."

I took the opportunity of enquiring whether there was supposed to be
any particular individual in the wind, and I half expected that in
the answer I should hear something about Captain Norroy. This,
however, was not the case, nor was his name ever once mentioned
during the whole conversation. I evolved that she had plenty of
admirers, and was very gracious to them all, just as she was to every
one else; but that whenever any of them had been cheated by her
amiable manner into the belief that he had a chance of becoming her
husband, he had speedily been undeceived, and learnt, to his cost,
that her readiness to be great friends with him was no indication of
a disposition to be anything more. The most desirable of her many
admirers was, in the opinion of my informants, a certain Lord
Clement, who was clearly at her disposal if she chose to have him,
but whose affection she showed no signs of reciprocating.

Her obduracy in this matter was quite inexplicable, I was told, he
being a rich young earl not more than eight years her senior, of good
family and irreproachable character, an excellent match in every
respect, and whose wife's rank and position would be high enough to
content any reasonable woman. There was no doubt that _her_ family
approved cordially of his suit, and that _his_ relations, also, had
no objection to it. One would have thought that any girl would have
been glad to get such a husband, and more particularly a girl like
her who set store on being a nob. Yet, for some reason or other, she
seemed not to know he had any attractions at all to offer, and turned
up her nose at him as if she didn't care a straw about such things.
Not that she was what you could call uncivil to him,--oh no, it was
not her nature to be that to any one,--but she certainly contrived to
give him more cold shoulder than encouragement. Whether or not he had
ever ventured to declare himself to her, in spite of this, was a
matter as to which opinions varied. The housekeeper did not believe
he _had_ proposed; whereas the butler took a contrary view in
consequence of what he had heard from a waiter friend of his who had
had opportunities of observing his lordship and Miss Kitty together
at several parties. But it was mere conjecture, and every one agreed
that there was no certainty about the matter either one way or other.

It can easily be imagined that gossip of this kind was extremely
interesting to a person in my position, anxious to learn all I could
regarding the lay of the land which I had come to inhabit. The
communicativeness of my new associates, and the facility with which I
was getting on with them at starting, reassured me greatly. I began
to wonder at my former qualms, lest in descending to a lower social
grade I should find things to put up with that were distasteful and
unpleasant. Entering service was, after all, no such formidable
ordeal as I had imagined; there was nothing that I should not quickly
grow accustomed to in my unfamiliar surroundings; nothing to shock
the prejudices or fastidiousness of any reasonable person; no reason
whatever why I should not be able to fraternise, and make myself at
home, just as well in that class of life as in any other. Alas for
these _couleur de rose_ anticipations of mine! They were destined to
be of but very brief duration, and were soon ruthlessly destroyed by
the following most vexatious occurrence.

As there is no accounting for tastes, and as even the ugliest of
women need not despair of meeting with some man in whose eyes she
will appear beautiful, or nice-looking at the very least, therefore
I might obviously have foreseen the possibility of my encountering
some male fellow-servant or other who would consider me sufficiently
attractive to flirt with. Of course, I ought to have taken this into
my calculations when I was contemplating the various chances and
events to which I should be liable on entering service. But it was a
contingency which, somehow or other, never once occurred to me; I
suppose I was too destitute of vanity about my own charms to think
of it.

Now amongst my new companions was Lord Mervyn's valet, Perkins, a
pale-faced, sandy-haired, thick-lipped, abominably-scented man,
who wore flowing whiskers of inordinate length which he greatly
cherished; who believed himself to be universally acceptable to the
weaker sex, and who was conceited, cowardly, and revengeful. As bad
luck would have it, I happened to take his fancy at first sight; and
it all of a sudden dawned upon me, to my amazement and dismay, that
he was actually making me the object of very marked and unmistakable
attentions.

Scandalised at the notion of a man-servant taking the liberty to
raise his eyes to a lady, I could hardly trust to the evidence of my
own senses at first. But then the matter seemed less unlikely when I
remembered that he had not a suspicion of there being any inequality
of rank between him and me, and that, as far as that went, I was in
his eyes just the same as any other maid in the house.

What he should find to admire in me, who had certainly done nothing
to attract him, was beyond my power to imagine; but that did not
alter the very unpleasant fact that he _did_ regard me with favour,
for he made it too plain for there to be a doubt about the matter. I
shuddered to think that I must endure being made love to by a valet:
it was an odious and degrading idea. Had I realised the possibility
of it beforehand, I hardly knew whether I should ever have placed
myself where I should be exposed to the risk of anything so
disagreeable. Disgusted and angry at the admiration which I deemed an
insult, and was yet powerless to resent, I endeavoured to nip it in
the bud by energetic snubbing. Alas! he only thought that I was
affecting coyness in order to draw him on, and persisted in his
objectionable attentions all the more.

To add to my annoyance, I perceived that I was meanwhile incurring
the bitter enmity of Lady Mervyn's maid, Robinson, to whom Perkins
had, before my coming, devoted himself chiefly, and who strongly
objected to any transfer of his affections. Too much blinded by
jealousy to see how unwelcome his vulgar compliments were to me, she
attributed the fickle conduct of her swain entirely to my wiles, and
thought that I alone was to blame for his deserting her.

Unluckily the man had a smattering of French, and though his accent
was as bad as a Corsican's (which is saying a _great_ deal), he was
immensely proud of his acquirements as a linguist, and aired them on
every possible opportunity. Knowing that I, too, was supposed to be
accomplished in this line, he kept on addressing me in the one
foreign tongue which he believed himself to know, whenever he could
recollect enough of it to translate any remark that he wanted to
make. By this proceeding the flames of Robinson's wrath were
constantly being fanned higher and higher; for she--understanding
not a word of any language except her own--jumped to the conclusion
that whatever French observation he addressed to me must necessarily
be something of an extra-tender description, which would be unsuited
to the ears of the general public.

I--anxious not to quarrel with her, and recoiling with horror from
the idea that any one could possibly suspect me of having the
faintest approach to a private understanding with Perkins--invariably
answered his speeches in English. But my efforts to undeceive her
were in vain, and by the time we retired to bed she had begun to
express her hostility in various unmistakable ways--such as darting
angry glances in my direction, giving vent to frequent sniffs
betokening great mental irritation, and making half-audible
observations as to the rudeness of talking secrets in company, and
the intense objection she had to meddlesome strangers who intruded
and made mischief amongst friends.

A nice kettle of fish this is! thought I, in reviewing the events of
the day before I went to sleep. I certainly do not see how I am to
keep to my intention of not making enemies at this rate. And just
when I was beginning to feel sure that everything was going to be so
comfortable, too! Why could not that wretch Perkins have let me
alone, I wonder? Faugh! The idea of supposing that I could be pleased
with what _he_ considers pretty speeches. I think it's a great pity
that there are any men at all in the world,--or, anyhow, any except
gentlemen.

There was something worse than mere pretty speeches in store for me.
On the day after my arrival I was going upstairs from dinner when I
suddenly saw Perkins coming towards me. No one else was in sight, and
he evidently thought it a good opportunity for prosecuting his
courtship vigorously.

"Miss Jill, my dear," whispered he, leering at me detestably; "I'm
_dying_ for a kiss from them sweet lips of yours. Do give me one
now--there's no one to see."

I was too much taken aback to be able to think of any answer which
would adequately express the intense horror and indignation with
which his insolent speech inspired me, so I pretended not to have
heard what he said. But I suspect that my face showed something of
what I felt, for he was not deceived by my affectation of deafness,
and continued, with a conceited snigger, whilst he stroked his
beloved whiskers complacently:

"What--not just yet, my little partridge! _Tray biang!_ This evening,
or to-morrow, then, eh? Only I reelly _can't_ wait long, mind; and if
you go on being 'ard-'arted, I shall take that kiss without asking
leave. That's just what you want, I dessay. Bless you! _I_ know the
way to please the ladies. You're all the same--longing to be courted
and kissed, and yet making believe that you can't abide nothing of
the kind, all the time."

I reached my room in a state of fury that was mixed with alarm, lest
he should attempt to execute his threat. Being stronger than me,
there was a chance that he might succeed in spite of all I could do
to prevent it. And since it made me frantic merely to _think_ of such
a humiliation, what should I do supposing the monster actually did
manage to profane my face with his lips? Should I kill him on the
spot, or should I expire from sheer disgust? How unutterably horrible
it was to have to associate with a creature who had such coarse,
boorish ideas of what was the proper way for a man to make himself
agreeable to a woman! This, verily, was a degradation for which I had
not bargained. It was a comfort that I was going abroad so soon; if I
could escape for a few days more, I should be out of reach of the
danger. And with this reflection I consoled myself as well as I
could, determining to be constantly on my guard as long as I was in
that house, lest the dreaded and hateful salute should come upon me
unawares, from some obscure corner or lurking-place.

My apprehensions were but too well-founded, as I experienced on the
following evening. It was after dark, and I was proceeding along the
passage near the pantry, with a lighted candle in my hand, when my
enemy suddenly sprung out from some recess where he had been lying in
ambush. He endeavoured to throw his arms around me, exclaiming, as he
did so: "Now's our time, my pet! I can't _possibly_ wait no longer;
and no one's looking, so you needn't purtend not to like it."

Moved by rage and fright to defend myself at all hazards, I had
recourse to the only weapon available; and against the odious face
and lips that were approaching mine I thrust the candle that I
carried. He tried to avoid the impending peril by blowing out the
light; but either he was too much confused, or else I was too quick
for him, and he failed to extinguish it. In another instant there was
a strong smell of burning hair, and one of his cherished whiskers was
on fire. He let go of me with an oath, and an exclamation of pain
and fear--for he was a shocking coward; and I passed on, quivering
with excitement, and divided between exultation at my escape and
self-hatred for having subjected myself to the disgrace of being thus
forced into a sort of romping struggle with a valet.

When next I saw him he bore considerable traces of the contest. The
hairy appendages to his face, in which he delighted, were gone; for
the whisker I had set on fire had been so much destroyed that it had
had to be shaved off, and then of course its companion had been
obliged to follow suit. And besides this, there were on his lips and
cheek sundry inflamed and angry-looking burns and blisters, which I
regarded with vindictive satisfaction.

When the other servants commented on the change in his appearance,
and inquired into the cause thereof, he accounted for it by a
story--which I did not trouble myself to contradict--about his having
had an accident with an unusually explosive match, the head of which
had flown off and burnt him. There was nothing so abominably
dangerous, he said, with savage emphasis, as an ill-made thing like
that, going off all of a sudden, and flaring and skipping about like
mad, when it looked as safe and quiet as possible. Regular man traps,
he considered them to be and if he could have his way, they should be
burnt, or got rid of somehow, every one of them.

As he spoke he cast a malignant glance at me, which convinced me that
I had incurred his undying resentment, and that in his abuse of the
imaginary match he was conveying his opinion about my deserts.

To that, however, I was indifferent; for in my eyes his hatred was
infinitely preferable to his love; I did not at all suppose he could
do me any harm, and only rejoiced to find what a wholesome effect my
violence had produced. He could by no means forgive the loss of his
whiskers and disfigurement which I had indicted on him; and after the
encounter above recorded he took no notice of me, except when he
thought he saw an opening for saying or doing anything likely to
annoy me--of which he always availed himself.

Some of the ways by which he tried to show his spite were highly
ludicrous, and all the more so because they failed completely of
having the effect he desired. For instance, in helping the vegetables
he would omit to supply my wants in the proper order of precedence
belonging to my position, and would serve some inferior domestic with
potatoes before me. This, as I subsequently learnt, was intended as a
mortal offence, which ought to have wounded my feelings desperately.
But I was happily ignorant of it at the time, and had no suspicion of
the intended insult. As long as I had enough potatoes, it was all the
same to me whether I had them first or last; and when at dinner, he
passed over me, and handed the dish to the second housemaid before
me, I was all unconscious of the affront that was being offered, so
that my peace of mind was in no wise affected by it.

But though, since he had given up making love to me, I was impervious
to most of his methods of annoyance, none the less did I find the
prevailing state of things uncomfortable in 2000 Eaton Square; and it
was with sincere joy that I found myself at last fairly off from
London, and accompanying Mrs. Rollin and Kitty to the Continent. I
hoped that I had seen the last of Perkins; or that, at all events, if
he and I should be destined to inhabit the same house again when I
returned from abroad, he would have got over his present bad temper
sufficiently to keep the peace with me. Certainly I never suspected
the implacable enmity of which--as I was to find by experience--he
was capable.



                            CHAPTER XII.

                       THE PHOTOGRAPH AGAIN.


When fingers are set to work for the first time at dressing and
undressing any one else than their natural owner, they are apt to
feel uncommonly as if they were all thumbs; such, at least, was the
conclusion I came to at the outset of my career as lady's-maid. But
a very little practice sufficed to make the awkward sensation wear
off; and, after that, I was able easily to fulfil the duties of my
post. To these duties I had no dislike, and much preferred being
engaged in performing them to spending my time amongst other
domestics; for I could wait on two ladies without shocking my
self-respect in any way, whereas I felt ashamed and degraded at the
mere idea of being liable to be persecuted by a man like Perkins. I
tried hard to conquer this squeamishness, telling myself that it was
ridiculous and inconsistent for a woman like me to be so particular,
after having deliberately elected to knock about in the world, and
take what came. But my endeavours to reason myself into a sensible
view of the matter were in vain, and completely failed to uproot the
feeling that to be taken liberties with by a man-servant was a
humiliation not to be endured.

The Perkins incident having put me out of charity with the whole
class--females and males alike--to which he belonged, it was a
satisfaction to me that I was to be the sole attendant accompanying
Mrs. Rollin and Kitty Mervyn abroad. This obviated all danger, at all
events for the present, of my having to associate with obnoxious
comrades. On the score of being dull for want of company I felt no
uneasiness, for I knew by experience that I could amuse myself
perfectly well when left to my own devices. Besides--had I not now
the opportunity which I had desired for observing Kitty Mervyn,
and trying to make out her character? I habitually regarded every
one with indifference; but she had for me a strange fascination,
which was strong enough to overcome that indifference, and I was
quite astonished at the extent to which she interested me. Let me
enumerate some of the attractions and qualities, both bodily and
mental, of this young lady, who was at once my mistress, and
also--though she would have been very greatly surprised to be told
so--my connection.

In appearance she was tall, handsome, and imperial-looking, with a
bright and open expression of countenance. Her disposition was
upright, proud, honourable, and averse to everything mean. In
conversation she was clever, quick-witted, lively, and pleasant. And
as, furthermore, she was endowed with great social talent and a
remarkable knack of pleasing all with whom she came in contact, she
won hearts right and left, and was considered charming wherever she
went. She was, however, far from faultless. The germ of worldliness,
which inevitably creeps into an education amongst fashionable people,
had begun to develop itself, and to taint her nature; and the
conclave in her father's housekeeper's room had certainly not
erred in attributing to her pride and ambition. So marked was her
inclination to haughtiness that, when first I knew her, it sometimes
puzzled me why she should take the trouble she did to make herself
universally agreeable--even to people for whom she did not care,
from whom there was nothing to be gained in return, and who were
nobodies in her estimation. As, however, I came to understand her
better, I discovered the key to this enigma, and perceived that she
was actuated--whether consciously or only instinctively I do not
know--by a strong desire for two things which seemed almost as
indispensable to her as the air she breathed. These two things were
popularity and power, and without them she was never really happy.

Her frank genial manner was well adapted to make people believe her
to be an unreserved, easily-read individual; but the more attentively
I studied her, the less inclined did I feel to think that impression
a correct one. I had doubts whether she ever showed much of her real
self; whether there were not recesses, of unsuspected depth, hidden
within her where no mortal eye could penetrate; and whether she did
not often make use of unreserve as a mask to conceal its opposite.
The possibility of this made her all the more attractive to me.
Curiosity as to what might lie beneath the surface she presented to
the world, served to increase the drawing towards her that I had
always felt; and had I been so placed as to have a chance of making
friends with her, I should certainly have tried to do so. But it was,
as I well knew, hopeless to attempt such a thing in my present
position; for she was not the sort of girl to condescend to familiar
intercourse with social inferiors, and in her eyes I was simply a
maid. Under the circumstances, it would obviously be ridiculous if I
were to let myself become fond of her, and I resolved firmly not to
be guilty of any sentimental folly of the kind. Yet, in spite of this
prudent resolution, I must confess that I sometimes had hard work not
to yield to the indefinable charm which she had for me; and had she
vouchsafed me any special marks of favour, I am afraid I should
inevitably have made a fool of myself, and become romantically
devoted to her. As, however, I had no particular attraction for her,
such as she had for me, that fact contributed greatly to restrain my
liking within reasonable limits. To indulge in an unrequited
attachment had always seemed to me decidedly weak and contemptible
(notwithstanding that such a man as the author of the _Vita Nuova_
had done it); and it would have discomposed me immensely to detect
in myself any symptoms of being capable of that weakness.

In short, I was sufficiently smitten with Kitty to have cast prudence
to the winds, and let my whole heart go out to her, _if_ she had held
up her finger to me. But that little word "if" made just all the
difference. My sense of dignity might safely be reckoned on to assist
reason and prudence in fighting against an infatuation for any person
who did not care for me in return.

From London we proceeded to Paris; thence we travelled slowly across
France, stopping at various places of interest, and presently reached
Cannes, where my two ladies meant to make a stay of a week or so
before journeying on into Italy.

So far, I had seen and heard nothing to confirm the gossip about Lord
Clement's admiration for Kitty, which had been communicated to me by
the servants. But I received ample proof of its truth on the day
after our arrival at Cannes, and this happened in the following
manner:--

I was engaged in brushing the dust off a dress which Kitty had been
wearing, when I found in the pocket a letter which she had received
that morning from England. I did not hesitate to read it. When
letters have secrets in them, people do not leave them about, thought
I; so, since Kitty has not troubled to take this one out of her
pocket, of course there are no private matters in it, and there is no
reason why I should not see if the contents are amusing.

The epistle was from Lady Mervyn, and the portion of it which most
interested me ran thus:

"Lord Clement told me last week that he thought he should go yachting
to the Riviera at once, and as I have little doubt what is the
attraction that takes him there, I daresay you will see something of
him before long. I do hope, dearest Kitty, that you will not set
yourself against him, and that you will try and reconsider the answer
you gave him before. I am, as you know, the _last_ person to try to
over-persuade you into a marriage against your own inclinations; but
yet I cannot resist putting in a good word for him, for it touches
me to see how truly he loves you, and how constant to you he is,
in spite of your refusal. Besides that, he really is a man in a
thousand, and one to whom any mother would trust her daughter
joyfully. Not only has he the recommendations of rank and wealth, but
moreover he is unusually amiable, high-minded, conscientious, steady,
and superior to the temptations to folly and extravagance to which
young men in his position are so peculiarly open. With the exception
of yourself, I doubt there being a single girl in London--or in
England either--who would not accept him gladly, if only he asked
her. And I'm sure one can't wonder at his being so run-after as he
is, when one remembers what his money and position are, what immense
influence they give him, what an excellent character he bears, and
how thoroughly good he is in every way. However, you know already how
high he stands in my good graces, and I had better drop the subject
for fear of boring you by going over the same old tale again. Only do
remember, my darling, that it is only the earnest wish I have to
secure your happiness which makes me so anxious for you not to
dismiss him without well considering what you do. Otherwise you may,
perhaps, some day find yourself repenting your past decision, and
regretting that you were so persistent in rejecting one of the few
men of whom it may truly be said, that he is all that a husband
should be."

Not badly done, my lady, thought I, as I refolded the letter, and
restored it to its place. You knew what a tempting bait power is to
Kitty when you put in that bit about the influence which the young
man's position gives him. And you understood who you were writing to
when you reminded her of his attractiveness to other people--she's
likely enough to value goods at the price the rest of the world put
upon them. Evidently you, like the servants, are puzzled to account
for her indisposition to receive the proposals of this rich, titled,
desirable, and altogether delightful suitor. Well! it rather puzzles
me too. Can it be that she prefers some one else? No one seems to
suspect such a thing; but yet it might be true for all that. What if
that photograph I found in her purse were the explanation of the
mystery? There is no impossibility in the idea of a _tendresse_
existing between her and Captain Norroy, which they have hitherto
managed to conceal from other people. I wish I could see them
together, and then I should have some chance of discovering whether
this conjecture of mine is right or not.

Whilst speculating thus, a brilliant idea suddenly flashed into my
mind. This was, that I might avail myself of the surreptitiously-obtained
_carte-de-visite_ (which I had carefully preserved), in order to find
out what I wanted to know. I would produce it unexpectedly, when
there was no chance of Kitty's being particularly on guard, and watch
for any signs of emotion that she might show on seeing it.

Wrapped up exactly as it had been when in her purse, and even in the
self-same bit of paper, I put it into a blank envelope, which I
presented next time I went to wait on her.

"I picked this up on the floor, just outside," said I. "I was going
to take it to the landlord; but then I thought perhaps it might be
something of yours, as I found it close to the door of your room, so
I had better ask you about it first."

The envelope was not fastened, as I had feared that if it were closed
she would scruple to open it, which would be fatal to the success of
my stratagem.

"Thank you," she answered, taking it from me carelessly. "I don't
think it belongs to me, but I can soon see."

I was doing her hair at the time, and commanded an excellent view of
her face reflected in the looking-glass opposite which she sat. Her
expression of _insouciance_ vanished like magic when she had undone
the paper and seen what it contained. The colour rushed into her
face, which softened for a moment in a way I had never before seen it
do, then came a stern, rigid, haughty, resolute look, as though she
would defy the whole world to discover whatever secret she chose to
conceal.

She did not speak at first, but turned round the photograph again
and again, examining both it and the paper in which it had been
wrapped.

At last she said: "This certainly is my property; but I can't imagine
how it came to be where you found it. I fully believed it to have been
lost some time ago."

"Don't you think," I suggested, "that when you thought you had lost
it, you had perhaps really only slipped it into your writing-case, or
into some book or papers which you haven't happened to open since
then until now? Then it fell out without your noticing it, and either
you were at that time at the place where I picked it up, or else some
one's dress may have swept it there from your room. It was very near
to the door."

"That is _possible_, no doubt," she returned, thoughtfully. "Yet
still, I can hardly believe it to have happened so. I felt as
positive as one can be about anything, that it was not in an envelope
at all, and that I had put it"--she hesitated a moment, and then
finished, "somewhere else."

As she did not seem inclined to mention where she really had put it,
I thought I had better pretend to suppose that its destination had
been a photograph-album.

"It would be very easy to be mistaken about what you had done with
it, though," said I. "Probably when it was given you it was in an
envelope, and then you were interrupted just as you were going to
stick it into your book, and after that you forgot all about it, and
it got mislaid."

"Well, you may be right," she replied. "Indeed I don't see any other
way of accounting for the matter. But it is odd how I can have been
so completely wrong in the impression I had as to what I had done
with it."

The theory I had propounded seemed sufficiently plausible to content
her, and she did not again allude to the affair. But I had little
doubt that she thought about it a good deal for all that, because of
a new look which I noticed in her face occasionally during the next
day or two, and which was different from any other that I had seen
there hitherto. A gleam of soft light would flash out from her eyes,
accompanied by an expression of countenance which was curious,
half-ashamed, tender, and wistful, and gave the impression rather
of unhappiness than of the joy a girl would be likely to feel when
thinking of her lover. This look of sadness would last perhaps for a
minute, and then invariably be succeeded by one that was scornful,
hard, and impenetrable.

It was beyond me to interpret these signs satisfactorily. That
Captain Norroy had power to excite emotions of _some_ kind in her
breast I felt sure; but whether these emotions were pleasurable or
the reverse, I was unable to make out.



                           CHAPTER XIII.

                           LORD CLEMENT.


Lady Mervyn's prediction regarding Lord Clement's movements proved to
be correct. His yacht, _La Catalina_, arrived at Cannes two or three
days after we did, and that event was speedily followed by the
appearance of her noble owner at the hotel where we were staying.

The interest with which Kitty's affairs inspired me had led to my
speculating a good deal on the subject of this young lord; and I had
made up my mind that he was almost sure to have something or other
disagreeable about him which would counterbalance his many charms,
and afford some explanation of her unwillingness to accept him. No
doubt, thought I, he is loutish, silly, ugly, untidy, bad mannered,
eccentric, or in some other way objectionable. This anticipation,
however, turned out to be wrong, and I soon perceived that he had
none of the defects with which my lively imagination had credited
him.

He was rather below middle height, dressed well and quietly,
and could never by any accident be mistaken for anything but a
gentleman--which, indeed, he certainly was in every respect. Neither
handsome nor ugly, his face was amiable and mild, but possessed no
other very marked expression of any kind. One would not suppose him
to be powerful or weak, distinguished or insignificant, a genius or a
fool. If there was nothing specially attractive about his appearance,
neither was there the reverse.

His intellect was not in any way brilliant, but he had good sense and
fair average abilities, was eminently painstaking, and would work as
laboriously at whatever he thought it his duty to do as though his
livelihood had depended on his exertions. In short, I think that the
most appropriate description of him is mediocrity, in respect of
everything except moral qualities; but where these were concerned he
was by no means mediocre, being far more conscientious and anxious to
do right than are the majority of rich young men who have the world
at their feet.

The most trying thing about him was a tendency to make a fuss about
trifles, and to attach a needless importance to all the minor
proprieties of life, which was sometimes rather irritating. But,
after all, fidgettiness and extra deference to Mrs. Grundy are only
very small defects in the eyes of most people. I could understand
that Kitty might occasionally be aggravated by these failings, yet
they alone were not, in my opinion, sufficient to account for his
being refused by a girl who was ambitious, and who had enough
perspicacity and worldly wisdom to appreciate what an excellent match
he was, and what an opening for ambition would be afforded by the
position of his wife.

I was curious to know how Kitty treated him, and profited by every
opportunity I had of watching them together. From these observations
I came to the conclusion that he had inspired her neither with
affection nor aversion, and that she was struggling to bring herself
to accept him. I thought that her reason and judgment were pleading
for him, and expatiating on his attractions, as her mother had done,
and that she was lending a willing ear to these advocates, and doing
all she could to let herself be convinced by their arguments. Yet I
had a great idea, too, that the effort went against the grain with
her, and that she often could not help keeping him at arm's length,
even in spite of her own wish. It was as if she had been conscious
of the grasp of an invisible hand, from which she could not wrench
herself free, and which constantly drew her back when she strove to
approach nearer to her suitor.

Is it Captain Norroy's hand that restrains her? I asked myself, as I
pondered over this result of my observations. Yet, if so, it seems
very odd that no one except me should have discovered their attachment
for one another. From all that I have seen and heard I should have
thought that a young couple in society would never have managed to
become spoons to any serious degree without giving rise to some
amount of suspicion as to the true state of affairs between them.
How ever can these two have contrived to deceive the lynx eyes of
gossip-loving servants, and to hoodwink the worldly and wide-awake
Lady Mervyn, whose heart is set on securing a brilliant match for her
favourite daughter?

Lord Clement's behaviour towards Kitty after his arrival at Cannes
seemed to me that of a man who felt himself to be on trial--was
nervous lest she should think him over eager in his addresses, and
objected to getting himself talked about with a girl who perhaps
would not marry him after all. His first proceeding was to get
introduced to Mrs. Rollin, who had till then been a stranger to him.
The introduction was easily effected, and after that he had no lack
of opportunities of meeting the object of his affections; for Mrs.
Rollin responded cordially to his advances, inviting him to join in
all the excursions to neighbouring lions which she and Kitty made,
and letting it be apparent that he was most welcome whenever he chose
to pay them a visit, and to accompany them anywhere.

I have no doubt that this civility of hers resulted, in the first
instance, from something said by Lady Mervyn as to his admiration
for Kitty, and the desirability of encouraging him as much as
possible. But though this may have been the original motive of the
_empressement_ with which Mrs. Rollin received him, there was no fear
of her not welcoming him for his own sake when once she had made
acquaintance with him and discovered what he was like. For she was a
person who held that the most important matter in life was to stand
well in the world's opinion, and consequently she was quite charmed
with his scrupulous regard for _convenances_ and extreme horror of
doing anything that could shock Mrs. Grundy.

"There's nothing of more consequence," Mrs. Rollin would declare,
"than to keep up appearances, because, provided one does that, one is
quite safe to be thought perfect. And that's what every one wishes to
be thought, or, if they don't, they ought to. I call it quite wicked
of any one to pretend that it doesn't matter what the world's opinion
about them is. Depend upon it, that whatever the whole world thinks
_can't_ be wrong; and that if a person is generally condemned or
praised, there's always some good reason for the blame or the
approval."

Keeping up appearances in the eyes of the world was, therefore,
her standard of perfection; and she strove zealously never to fall
short of that standard, and always to fulfil its requirements
punctiliously. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to deduce from
this that she was such an abject slave of the world's opinion as to
let herself be governed by it in things which it did not see. On the
contrary, she drew a line between her public and private actions, and
did not allow it to interfere at all with the latter. If she had
tastes and inclinations to which it objected, she did not, on that
account, sacrifice them, if it was possible that they could be
indulged in secret. How she would act, under such circumstances, was
illustrated by her behaviour regarding French novels. These she
preferred to any other kind of reading, and greedily devoured as
many as she could lay hold of. But as she knew that the world
sometimes thinks fit to frown at an indiscriminate study of these
books (who shall say whether that disapprobation is real or
feigned?), therefore she was careful not to reveal her partiality for
them. Yet she did not rush to the opposite extreme and disclaim any
acquaintance whatsoever with that class of literature. She had no
idea of hiding her light under a bushel, and not being duly credited
with as many accomplishments as she possessed, and therefore liked
to have it known that she understood a foreign language well enough
to read and enjoy works written in it. So what she did was, to
profess to read French novels solely with the laudable object of
keeping up her French; while, at the same time, she was most cautious
in talking about them in public, and never betrayed the slightest
knowledge of the contents of any that were not fairly decorous and
proper.

But _I_ knew better than that. It was a matter in which her maid
could not be deceived as easily as the rest of the world.

Bohemianism being an open setting-at-defiance of the world's opinion,
was quite detestable to her, with all that savoured thereof; and the
very correct Lord Clement was, of course, a man after her own heart.
There was, however, a wide difference between the respective ways in
which he and she regarded Mrs. Grundy. For while the gentleman had a
genuine esteem for that great social authority, and paid her homage
in all sincerity, Mrs. Rollin did it only in appearance, and was
moved thereto chiefly by fear.

The room in which I slept was immediately over Mrs. Rollin's
sitting-room; and by sitting at the open window in my room I could
hear--when the weather was calm--most things that were said by people
on the balcony beneath. Thus I overheard an interesting conversation
as to plans which took place after we had been at Cannes for about as
long a time as my two ladies intended to stay there. Where to go
next, was the question they were debating. And as Lord Clement
happened to call just then, Mrs. Rollin appealed to him to assist
them with his advice in the matter.

His manner of complying with this request was eminently characteristic
of him. Kitty's society was the object of his keenest desires at
that moment, and he was averse to the idea of any movement that would
involve his being separated from her. Under these circumstances, and
considering the amount of encouragement he had received--especially
from the young lady's _chaperone_--some men would have taken it for
granted that their companionship was acceptable, and that it was a
matter of course for them to accompany the two ladies to their next
destination. Not so, however, would Lord Clement behave. Thus openly
to attach himself to them as a travelling companion would inevitably
give rise to gossip; and to do anything likely to be talked about as
unusual was quite contrary to his ideas of propriety. Though the real
object of his visit to the Mediterranean might have been Kitty, yet
the ostensible reason had been yachting; and this pretext he had no
intention of renouncing by leaving his vessel. In taking part in the
discussion as to what our future movements were to be, he gave no
indication of being personally interested in the matter in any way,
and assumed the air of a strictly impartial adviser. At the same
time, however, his opinion as to the desirability of places was
in such remarkably exact proportion to their availability from
the sea, that I listened with much amusement, and thought that the
disinterestedness of his counsels might very fairly be doubted.

Various localities had been suggested and talked over without any
determination being arrived at, when Kitty observed, "Now I've quite
a new place to propose; and that's Corsica. I saw it looking just
like a purple cloud resting on the sea the other day, and I have a
great fancy to go and see it close. For one thing, there's no railway
there yet; and I should like, for once in my life, to feel that I was
in a land through which locomotives have never puffed. It would be an
absolutely new sensation to me, and one which the present rate of
civilisation will soon render unattainable, I expect; so I vote we
experience it while we can. Besides, I'm sure it would be a good
place for sketching. What do you say, Aunt Georgina? Don't you think
it'll be pleasant to get away from this cockney old Riviera, and go a
little bit out of the regular beaten track where _every one_ goes?"

"Kitty, Kitty!" remonstrated her aunt, "it quite distresses me to
hear you talk like that! You really shouldn't speak contemptuously of
the beaten track, and be so anxious to get away from it. Remember
that the fact of its being worn by many feet is also a sure proof of
its being smoother, pleasanter, and in every way preferable to other
tracks."

"All right, aunty," laughed Kitty; "I won't abuse your favourite
walk since it vexes you! But doesn't it strike you that I should
appreciate its merits all the more if I were to see with my own
eyes--just for once you know--how horrid some other route can be? And
isn't that a good reason for going to Corsica? _Do_ let's go there;
I've quite set my heart on it."

Kitty rarely failed to get her own way with Mrs. Rollin, who was
as susceptible as the rest of the world to the girl's powers of
fascination. But the hesitating, reluctant tone in which the elder
lady answered, showed me that she had no great fancy for this
Corsican visit. "Well, I hardly know what to say," she returned
slowly; "to begin with, How does one get there? and in the next
place, What's it like when one _is_ there? I think I've heard you say
you were there once, Lord Clement; do help me to make up my mind
about this, and advise me whether or not to do what this rash niece
of mine wishes."

Corsica naturally found favour in the young man's eyes as being
convenient for yachting purposes. "Oh, if you ask me, I decidedly
advise you to go," he replied; "it's really a pretty sort of country,
besides being interesting as the birthplace of Napoleon. By the by
you should read Boswell's tour if you go. As for getting there, you
_could_ go by steamer either from Marseilles to Ajaccio, or else from
Leghorn or Genoa to Bastia. But I hope that you will allow me the
pleasure of taking you over in _La Catalina_, which you'll find far
more comfortable than either of the regular steamers--they're all
nasty, dirty, uneasy little boats, I believe."

"I'm sure we are greatly obliged to you for so good an offer,"
answered Mrs. Rollin, "and I think we should gladly avail ourselves
of it _if_ we were to decide upon going. But I fancy I've heard it
said that one can't get anything to eat there--which wouldn't suit me
at all. And then, too, there are the dangers from vendettas and
banditti to be taken into consideration."

"Oh now, don't go being a perverse aunty, and making difficulties out
of nothing!" exclaimed Kitty. "How could the natives exist if there
wasn't something to eat? And a vendetta is a strictly private family
affair, which doesn't affect strangers one atom. And as for banditti,
it's not Corsica but Sicily that is full of them; my belief is that
you've gone and mixed the two islands together in your head. The
Corsicans are always supposed to be a particularly amiable and
friendly set of people as far as ever _I_ heard. Except, of course,
when there's a vendetta to excite them, and that wouldn't matter to
outsiders like you and me."

"I assure you that that is true, Mrs. Rollin," added Lord Clement,
"and that you have really no cause of apprehension from robbers. The
only danger of that kind which I ever heard mentioned during my stay
there was from escaped convicts. Now and then a few manage to get
out of the prison, I believe, and support themselves _à la_ brigand
on the mountains, till they are either retaken or else contrive to
get across to Sardinia to join some of the banditti there. But that
only happens so very seldom that it really is not worth taking into
consideration."

"How about the hotels?" inquired Mrs. Rollin; "are there any good
ones to be met with?"

"Oh, they are not at all bad at the two chief seaports--Ajaccio and
Bastia," he replied, "and there would not be any necessity for you
to sleep anywhere else. I could take you from the one town to the
other in my yacht, and from those places you could make inland
expeditions within the limits of a day, which would enable you to see
a great deal of the country without having to rough it at all. I
can't say much for the hotel accommodation anywhere except at the two
chief towns, and shouldn't recommend you to go travelling about in
the interior. But of course you would not care to visit the more wild
and out-of-the-way parts."

"You mustn't be too sure of that," said Kitty, laughing. "Whatever a
place may be, it's attractive to me if it's different from any other
that I've ever seen before. And Aunt Georgina isn't _quite_ so
miserable when beyond reach of luxuries as you might think to hear
her talk. I've even known her go without five o'clock tea and yet be
happy! For my part I begin to feel an intense desire arising in my
breast to hunt up an escaped convict and fraternise with him, or at
least to go and inspect his lair. What a novel subject for a sketch
it would be! And I'm _sure_ that you'll like to do whatever pleases
me, aunty, for you always do. Now isn't that true?"

"Well, well, perhaps I do my dear, but only within reasonable limits,
please to remember," returned her aunt, who was considerably
influenced by Lord Clement's support of the Corsican scheme. "People
of my age don't regard 'roughing it' with the same enthusiasm as some
of the young ones, who don't really know what that process implies,
and for whom it has all the charm of novelty. I should certainly
draw the line a long way before the escaped convict you wish to
meet. However, joking apart, from what Lord Clement says, there
does not seem to be any reason against running over to the island
and gratifying your whim to have a peep at it, though I quite agree
with him as to its being undesirable to penetrate into any remote
and inaccessible parts, where neither pleasure nor advantage are to
be gained. I never can see the good of going to places where no one
else goes. There's no one one knows there; and besides that, as no
one knows anything about them, there's no chance of finding them
necessary, or even useful, as topics of conversation in society. So
that visiting such places is mere waste of time and money in _my_
opinion!"

"Well, then we may consider Corsica to be our next destination
anyhow," said Kitty triumphantly. "That's the first thing to settle,
and there is no need to make up our minds as to anything further just
yet. Time enough for that by and by, when we get there."

After a little more discussion it was decided that we should be
conveyed to Ajaccio in _La Catalina_; which vessel, though not
containing berths enough for us to have slept a night on board, was
yet quite capable of accommodating us very comfortably for the time
requisite to perform the passage between Cannes and Ajaccio. What our
plans should be after reaching the island was left quite uncertain;
for though Mrs. Rollin was well inclined to stay only at the two
chief towns and move from one to the other in the yacht, as Lord
Clement had proposed, yet Kitty was not to be induced to commit
herself to any definite approval of this scheme, and without her
approval it was impossible to feel sure of its being carried out, for
she generally got her own way about things she cared for. All she
would say was, that perhaps it might be a good plan and perhaps not,
and that there was not the least need to settle the matter positively
yet.

Lord Clement was evidently happy to have had his offer of the yacht
accepted--for the voyage across at all events. But I think that his
satisfaction was somewhat marred by a dread of Kitty's taking the bit
between her teeth when once she should be at Corsica, running away
with her aunt, all over the island, and getting out of his reach from
the sea; if the whim to do it came to her, there was but small
probability that she would not accomplish her purpose.



                            CHAPTER XIV.

                            AT AJACCIO.


The inevitable Mediterranean roll was in less force than usual when
we crossed to Corsica, and as we were all pretty fair sailors we had
a pleasant passage, notwithstanding the anticipations to the contrary
of our especial waiter at the Cannes hotel. He was a brisk, cheery
little fellow, with such a power of sympathising with other people
that he always identified himself with those guests who were under
his particular care, and took their affairs to heart almost as though
they were his own. Going to sea and being sea-sick meant precisely
the same thing to him; consequently, from the moment he heard of our
contemplated trip he became full of compassion for the sufferings we
must undergo, and was good-naturedly eager to think of, and suggest,
every possible alleviation for the misery which he confidently
predicted for us. As we departed from the hotel his final words were
to impress upon my two ladies that, last thing before going to sea,
one should always eat a hearty meal, because, "ça-facilite--et sans
ça, c'est si fatigante." I am sorry to have to add, however, that
this well-intentioned speech was received in by no means as friendly
a spirit as that in which it was offered. For it was quite contrary
to Mrs. Rollin's notions of propriety that one who was a man, and
an inferior, should presume publicly to give her advice as to the
management of her interior; so, instead of making the amicable
response that was evidently expected, she swept past him with a
freezing look and an audible remark to Kitty about the atrocious
vulgarity of foreign servants who had never been taught to know their
place.

When we arrived at Ajaccio we separated from Lord Clement, he
remaining on board _La Catalina_, whilst we proceeded to a hotel.
During the voyage Kitty had been more civil to him than usual,--perhaps
as a reward for his assistance in persuading her aunt to come to
Corsica,--and this favourable humour still continued on reaching
_terra firma_. A question hazarded by him as we left the yacht, as
to what should be done next day, was replied to by her with a
graciousness which made it apparent that his company would be
acceptable, if he chose to join her and her aunt in whatever they
might be doing.

Accordingly, I was not surprised to see him appear at our hotel first
thing next morning. Shortly afterwards they all three sallied forth
to see the pictures at the _Collège_ Fesch; then they ordered a
basket to be packed with provisions, and, the weather being splendid,
hired a carriage and drove off for a day's outing beyond Pisciatella.
The special object of the two younger people was sketching, to which
Kitty was greatly addicted, and for which she had a decided talent.
Lord Clement, on the contrary, had no natural gift in that line;
but, none the less, he strove laboriously to acquire the art, because
he regarded drawing as a highly moral, elevating, correct, and
unexceptionable amusement, and therefore one to be cultivated and
encouraged as much as possible. As for Mrs. Rollin, she had a French
novel in her pocket, and would be perfectly happy to bask in the sun
and read whilst her companions sketched or flirted, as might seem
good in their own eyes.

My employers being thus disposed of for the day, I was left alone
with nothing particular to do. The streets were too filthy to be very
inviting, so, being a good walker, I went for a stretch along the
road towards the Isles Sanguinaires. It was a lovely day, and I
thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of the walk, and the contrast between
winter, represented by snow-covered Monte Oro in the distance, and
summer, felt in the hot sunshine that warmed me through and through,
and sparkled on the brilliant blue sea beside the road. And when I
got beyond the limits of the town there were wild hillsides rising
on my right, all covered with low bushes of some kind of cistus,
which, though now brown and scrubby-looking, would be beautiful, I
thought, when in full bloom.

But I must not expatiate on the scenery, as that has nothing to do
with my story. What I saw in the course of that walk, to which I now
wish particularly to call attention, is this: Near the outskirts of
the town I came to a number of small houses standing pretty close
together on one side of the road. Each was in the middle of a little
plot of ground, which was surrounded either by a wall, or else by
strong iron railings; and this enclosure was only to be entered by a
gate, whence a short drive led to the door of the house within. Some,
but not all, had a family name stuck up at the entrance; and some of
the plots of ground were merely turfed over, whilst others were
nicely laid out in flower-beds and borders.

One would naturally have concluded these buildings to be villas, if
it had not been for the curious fact of their being destitute of
windows. This puzzled me; for I did not suppose that Corsicans could
be different from the rest of the world in disliking to live in
windowless habitations.

Whilst I was staring at these mysterious houses, and wondering what
they were for, a funeral came along the main road, and turned into
the gate of the outer enclosure of one of them. This excited my
curiosity still more, so I addressed myself to a respectable looking
passer-by, and asked him what those little villas were, and to whom
they belonged. He replied that they were "chapelles mortuaires," or,
in other words, private burialplaces, and that each one belonged
to a different family. On questioning further, I learnt that these
"chapelles mortuaires" were by no means peculiar to the neighbourhood
of towns, but were found in remote parts of the island also, as the
possession of them was quite customary amongst all Corsicans.

I thanked the man for his information, and continued my walk. I
thought it seemed a quaint idea to build villa residences for the
dead, and I then dismissed the subject from my mind. Certainly it
never entered my head that I myself was destined before long to make
acquaintance with the interior of one.

That evening I discovered that Kitty had a new scheme in her head.
What instigated her to it I cannot say. It may have been the spirit
of perversity, or else a guide-book which she had been studying
diligently; or else, perhaps, that she was tired of being civil to
Lord Clement, and wanted to escape from him for a while. But anyhow,
for some reason or other, it had been borne in upon her that it
would be the most delightful thing possible to make a fortnight's
driving-tour through the island for the purpose of seeing the country
and sketching. Knowing that she would probably have a difficulty in
getting her aunt to consent to this scheme, she did not intend to
propound it until she had first ascertained that it was really
feasible, and also found out whatever information might be requisite
for its execution.

Her first step, therefore, was to impart the project to me, telling
me that she wished me to make inquiries as to various matters
connected with it--such as what sort of inns were to be found at the
small inland towns; whether the roads were in good condition for
travelling on; whether they were likely to be blocked by snow in the
mountainous districts; what it would cost to hire a carriage; who was
the best jobmaster in Ajaccio, etc.

I was charmed at a plan which harmonised so well with my own love of
change and adventure, and entered into it readily. Being curious to
know whether she contemplated being accompanied by Lord Clement or
not, I put a fishing question to that effect. "What sized carriage am
I to ask about?" said I; "how many must it hold?"

"Why, my aunt and I, and you, _of course_," she answered rather
sharply, as if not well pleased at my having entertained a doubt on
the subject. "I should have thought you might have known that
yourself. We should only take a couple of carpet bags with us, and
leave the heavy luggage behind, so as to travel as light as possible;
therefore we shouldn't want at all a big carriage. It should be an
open one, and have a hood to put up in case of rain."

Oh, thought I, on hearing this, evidently then my lord is meant to be
left to himself; his fair weather has not lasted long after all. I
suppose that she has been putting a strain on herself to be civil to
him, that now comes the reaction, and that she is going to fly off at
a tangent from the line of conduct which was dictated by worldly
policy, and not by natural inclination. Well, it does not matter to
me whether she marries him or not, so I do not want to interfere one
way or other; I have only to look on at the play and be amused. I
hope she will be able to carry out this driving-tour scheme anyhow;
for it is just the sort of thing I should like myself.

I lost no time in performing her commission to the best of my ability.
Entering into casual conversations with sundry natives--waiters, for
instance, a couple of talkative shopkeepers, and the driver of a
fiacre who was sunning himself on the steps of his vehicle--I
cautiously led up to the topics which I had been told to find out
about, knowing that a stranger was more likely to arrive at an
honest opinion in this indirect way than by blunt, straightforward
inquiries. By means of questions that were apparently purposeless, I
elicited a good deal of information as to the relative merits of
different hostelries and individuals, which might very likely have
been withheld if I had let it be seen that I had any especial reason
for wishing to know. Thus I learnt too who was reputed the best
_patron des voitures_, and how much would be the probable difference
between what he would _ask_ and what he would _take_ for the hire of
a carriage; this difference being a sum of from 8 to 12 francs a day,
according to the opinion he happened to form of the hard-headedness
and determination not to be cheated of whoever engaged him.

Having found out as much as I could, I passed it all on to Kitty,
who, armed with this knowledge, took the opportunity of hair-brushing
time that same evening to suggest the driving-tour to Mrs. Rollin.
That lady at once pronounced the scheme wild and impracticable. On
being asked why, she brought forward all the objections she could
think of, every one of which was met and answered by Kitty with a
readiness that quite staggered her aunt. Mrs. Rollin had been far too
much engrossed in one of Zola's novels to notice the attention with
which her niece had recently been perusing books of Corsican travel;
and the unexpected and intimate acquaintance with the subject
suddenly displayed by Kitty almost took away the aunt's breath.
Evidently it had never occurred to her that there was a possibility
of Kitty's thus making up her mind, and finding out all requisite
particulars, without having given a single hint of what she was
thinking of. Yet here was the plan, all cut and dried and ready,
with every detail gone into.

Certainly the girl made the most of what she had read and heard; and
no one, to hear her talk, would have believed that this was her first
visit to the island. She discoursed learnedly about where the best
scenery was; what towns had good accommodation; what were the names
of the various inns; and what the cost of living and of the carriage
would be. She had got up her subject thoroughly; had an answer ready
for all difficulties that it was possible to suggest; made everything
look _couleur-de-rose_; and quoted, as a precedent for what she
wanted to do, which would have weight with her hearer, the example
of an English lady of rank and fashion, who had been travelling about
in Corsica a few years before, and of whom she had just happened to
hear. Kitty's energy, skill in pleading her cause, and powers of
persuasion, were more than her admiring and less strong-willed
relative could resist. The scheme, as thus set forth, appeared quite
delightful; Lord Clement was on board his yacht, beyond reach of
being taken into consultation; and so the end of the matter was,
that Mrs. Rollin assented to all that Kitty wished, and that I
consequently received orders to go out the first thing next morning
and arrange for hiring a carriage.

This I accordingly did; and as I passed through the streets towards
the residence of the _patron des voitures_, I met Lord Clement on his
way to the hotel, looking just as usual--that is to say, the essence
of propriety, clean, well-dressed, placid, gentlemanlike, English,
and (to my mind,) uninteresting. I did not dislike him, but his
intense love of respectability and correctness aggravated me; and I
thought, maliciously, that his present placid satisfaction would be
ruffled by the news of the contemplated expedition, and that I should
like to see his face when he heard of it. For it could hardly be
expected that a man who had brought the object of his affections to a
place where he hoped to be able to be with her daily, would relish
the sudden discovery that she was going to leave him in the lurch,
and take herself off out of his reach for a fortnight at least, if
not longer.



                            CHAPTER XV.

                  A DRIVING EXPEDITION IN CORSICA.


My position as a servant gave me no opportunity of knowing whether
or not Lord Clement made any attempt to oppose the projected
driving-tour. If he did, however, his interference certainly produced
no effect; for the orders I had received were not countermanded, and
on the following day we three unprotected females departed from
Ajaccio, and set out upon our travels into the interior of the
island. Our conveyance was a light open carriage, with a head that
could be raised or lowered at pleasure. As the trap only held two
people comfortably inside, I sat on the box by the driver; and the
very moderate amount of luggage that accompanied us was fastened
securely at the back of the vehicle.

It was a beautiful morning, and everything seemed to promise well for
our expedition. Driving in an open carriage was a thing which Mrs.
Rollin greatly affectioned, and always declared it to be impossible
for her ever to tire of; and as she was rendered additionally
complacent by having been able to procure a sufficient stock of
French novels to obviate all risk of dulness, she was in a happy and
contented frame of mind, which Kitty and I--ourselves in the highest
spirits, and ready to make the best of everything--were most anxious
she should retain.

The scenery was much admired, especially the lovely views that were
to be had, looking back over Ajaccio and the blue waters of its bay.
The small, jet-black, silky-looking sheep were noticed and commented
on; so were the vineyards which we passed, the chestnut, fig, almond,
and olive trees; and, beyond everything, the arbutus bushes, which
called forth many exclamations of admiration and delight. No wonder;
for it really was a sight to see acres and acres of them growing wild
in luxuriant profusion, and covered with magnificent luscious-looking
fruit, whose size and brilliancy of colouring far exceeded that of
any arbutus berries which I have ever seen elsewhere.

A drive of about three hours brought us to Cauro, where there was
some idea that we should sleep that night, if the inn looked
inviting; if not, we were to go on to St. Marie Sicché. Corsican inns
are generally extremely clean, and the one at Cauro was no exception
to the rule. But alas! it could supply neither milk nor butter, and
nothing in the shape of meat except "merles."

I was not at all astonished at this, because I had already been told
in Ajaccio that travellers in the island could not rely on finding
meat everywhere, and that at the present time of winter butter and
milk would certainly be unattainable, except at one or two of the
very largest towns. This piece of information had been duly
communicated by me to Kitty; but somehow or other it had not reached
the ears of her aunt, and that good lady was disagreeably surprised
at a scarcity of luxuries for which Kitty and I were quite prepared.
She at once voted for not sleeping at Cauro, but going on to St.
Marie Sicché, where she had no doubt there would be a better stock of
provisions. Of course Kitty and I were not equally sanguine as to
this; but we did not tell her that fact, as she would find out the
state of affairs quite soon enough for herself, and there was
obviously no use in damping her spirits just at the outset of the
expedition. Accordingly, we refreshed ourselves with coffee, eggs,
bread, and fruit, and then continued our journey as soon as the
horses were baited.

In crossing the Col de San Giorgio there were fine views over the
surrounding country which excited Kitty's artistic instincts; so the
carriage was stopped for her to make a sketch, and meanwhile Mrs.
Rollin buried herself in one of her beloved novels, and I beguiled
the time by talking to the driver, and drawing out his notions as to
things in general connected with his country. I found that he was a
pleasant, conversational individual, who avowed his mercenariness
with unblushing frankness, and laughed at the idea of being expected
to entertain any political opinions of his own. "Celui qui donne le
pain à un Corse, c'est son père," said he; "that's one of our
proverbs. I'm imperialist, royalist, republican, or anything else,
according to who my employer is. Just now I'm whatever pleases your
two ladies, as it is they who pay me." Perceiving that he carried
pistols, I asked him if he did so because of a vendetta--thinking
that in that case it might be a little awkward for us if he should
happen to fall in with an enemy whilst he was in our service; and
that it was as well to know what one had to expect. However, the
unmistakable sincerity with which he disclaimed anything of the kind
put me quite at my ease again. "A vendetta!" he exclaimed; "no
indeed! neither I nor my family have a quarrel with any living
creature. For all that, I never go unarmed on this sort of expedition
because of the _penitenciers_, who manage to get out of prison now
and then."

"Poor wretches," said I; "I should have thought that they'd be more
afraid of you than you of them. Did they ever do you any harm?"

"No," he answered, "I've never had any trouble with them myself, but
they _have_ been known to attack carriages, and to be very awkward
customers, too; and as I like to be on the safe side, I always take
arms with me, as you see."

"Why, one might think these escaped prisoners were regular banditti
to hear you talk," I returned, rather scornfully; for I did not
believe in there being any real ground for alarm on account of
_penitenciers_.

"Well, and so they are," he replied; "there's plenty of room for any
number of people to hide amongst the various kinds of bushes--_maquis_
as we call them--which grow wild over the hills and large tracts of
uninhabited waste land. They form almost impenetrable thickets, where
a _penitencier_ has little trouble in keeping out of the way; there
he lives as best he can, subsisting chiefly on the quails and
woodcocks, of which the _maquis_ is full, and helping himself
to the property of other people whenever he gets a chance. For he is
sure to be a _vaurien_."

I shrugged my shoulders, thinking it would be a long while before
_I_ should take the trouble to carry arms for fear of some Mrs.
Harris of a _penitencier_, who probably had no existence save in the
imaginations of the timid and the credulous. Our conversation ended
there, as Kitty had completed her sketch, and we resumed our course.
That evening I told her of the driver's absurd precautions, and found
she was as much amused at the idea as I was, and we had a good laugh
at the man's excessive prudence. It was, however, a joke which was
not imparted to Mrs. Rollin, as she, being somewhat inclined to be
nervous, might possibly not have regarded the matter in the same
light that we did; and the knowledge of the driver's thinking it
necessary to carry pistols would perhaps have put uncomfortable
notions into her head. Of course anything likely to do that was to be
avoided most carefully; as, if she became alarmed or disgusted in any
way, she might insist on cutting short the expedition, and returning
at once to more civilised places, which would have been a great bore.
I was far more afraid of this happening than of any perils from
_penitenciers_; and I eagerly seconded Kitty's efforts to make
everything smooth and pleasant, and to keep her aunt contented.

I began to foresee, however, that there would be some difficulty in
doing this for long; and I felt considerable misgivings as to whether
Mrs. Rollin would be induced to carry out the driving-tour programme
in its entirety. The good humour in which she had started in the
morning already showed signs of diminishing. In spite of the
cleanliness of the inns, they were a good deal rougher than she
liked; and though at the hostelry at St. Marie Sicché there was
fortunately some meat, yet she was again obliged to put up with
milkless coffee and butterless bread. It was the latter of these two
grievances to which she especially objected.

"Though I like _café au lait_ best myself," she said, "still I don't
so much mind drinking black coffee, because that is quite correct,
and a thing that numbers of people do--especially after dinner. But
as for dry bread!--why, that's what paupers in the workhouse have to
eat! I do hope, Kitty, that you won't mention to our friends at home
that we had to put up with such mean food; I shouldn't like it to be
said that I went travelling in places where the people were so poor
or so stingy as not even to afford themselves butter!"

We both did what we could to pacify her; Kitty by promising
inviolable secrecy, and I by making the landlord rummage out some
_confitures_, which, though but indifferent, would at all events save
her from the reproach of having had to breakfast on dry bread,
whether she liked it or no. This appeased her partially; but still I
saw that her wonted serenity was not altogether restored.

Up to this point we had been travelling along the highroad used by
the diligences, the _route nationale, royale,_ or _imperiale_, as it is
called, according to which party happens to be in power. But we
turned off from it next day, on leaving St. Marie Sicché, and took to
smaller and inferior roads by which we ascended to higher ground,
until we reached the town of Zicavo, perched on the side of a steep
hill and surrounded by chestnut trees.

Unluckily the picturesqueness of its situation did not suffice to
reconcile Mrs. Rollin to its deficiency of milk and butter, or to the
roughness of its inn, and she expressed much astonishment that a
town of its importance did not provide better accommodation for
travellers. Another thing that was beginning to annoy her was the
republican equality and disregard for class distinctions which she
found prevailing everywhere, and which were by no means to her taste.
The Corsicans, though perfectly civil and well behaved, were no
respecters of rank, and each one seemed to consider himself quite as
good as any one else. When the driver came in the evening to ask for
his orders for next day, he sat down while talking to the ladies, as
a matter of course; and the landlords of the inns took the same
liberty in their presence, all of which was much to Mrs. Rollin's
disgust. Then, too, she had to do without a private sitting-room, for
the inns had only one room that was not a bedroom, and that one was a
big public room, which served as sitting-room and dining-room to all
classes alike; so that she was obliged either to stay altogether in
her sleeping apartment, or else to condescend to sit at the same
table with the landlord, his family, the driver, me, and any
_commis-voyageur_, shopkeeper, peasant, or other person who might
happen to come in. Besides this, the inquisitiveness which is
characteristic of Corsicans offended her. She could not bear the
freedom with which people whom she considered inferiors would
cross-examine herself and Kitty as to their age; whether they were
married; if not, why not; what they did with themselves; what
relatives they had; where they were going; and similar personal
matters. And as I perceived her growing irritation at these various
petty annoyances, I became more and more doubtful whether we should
be able to reconcile her to them sufficiently to induce her to put
up with them for a whole fortnight.

One of the reasons which had brought us to Zicavo was the fact that
it was only five or six kilometers from the baths of Guitera, where
there are warm sulphurous springs. Mrs. Rollin, who never willingly
lost an opportunity of bathing in mineral waters, was very anxious
to see what the Guitera baths were like; and if they proved
satisfactory, we should probably remain for a few days at Zicavo,
whence she could drive over and have a daily bathe. Accordingly, on
the day after we got to Zicavo, she and Kitty went to inspect the
bathing establishment at Guitera. However, they found it so wretched
looking a little place, and of so uninviting an exterior, that she at
once declared nothing would induce her to set foot inside it, and
that, as there was nothing to stay for at Zicavo, we had better go on
again immediately in hopes of finding better quarters elsewhere. It
was decided, therefore, that we should next day proceed across the
Serra Scopomeno to St. Lucia di Tallano. We must allow plenty of time
for the journey, we were told, as the roads were heavy, and it was
not impossible we might be hindered by snow. Consequently my
mistresses determined to get off early in the morning, in order to
have the whole day before them. And after giving directions to that
effect, Mrs. Rollin secluded herself and Kitty in their own bedrooms,
and remained there for the rest of the evening, beyond reach of
contamination from the company in the public room.

I, however, was less particular, and sat there till I went to bed,
fraternising with the landlord's wife, watching all that went on, and
enjoying the opportunity of seeing a little of the manner of life of
a foreign race. It was a novel experience, and that is a thing that I
always like.

What made it still more interesting was that the landlord was also
_maire_ of the commune, and as he used the public room as his
_bureau_ in which to carry on official transactions, I heard all that
went on between him and the different people who came to see him on
business. He seemed to be a good sort of fellow enough, only with
rather an excessive estimate of his own importance and omniscience.
Just as one of the visitors was going away, he suddenly bethought him
of something that had hitherto slipped his memory, and turned back at
the door.

"By the by," said he to the _maire_, "some one said yesterday that
they heard there were one or two escaped _penitenciers_ about again
somewhere or other. Have you heard anything about it, and do you
suppose it's true?"

"True," repeated the _maire_; "of course not! People are always
setting about some foolish report in order to have something to talk
about, and so pretend that they know more than others! No--_I've_ not
heard of it, because it's well known that I make it a rule to pay no
attention to absurd tales unsupported by reliable evidence, and that
makes the tattlers somewhat shy of bringing their stories to _me_. A
pretty state the country would come to if the important officials
were to believe all they're told, and go disturbing themselves about
every idle rumour!"

I was amused at the _maire's_ evident annoyance at some one else's
having heard this piece of gossip a whole day sooner than he had.
Otherwise I paid no attention to the matter, as I was not in the
least degree apprehensive of _penitenciers_. When a danger occurs but
rarely, the chances are so great against its occurring to any given
person that one is apt to regard it as non-existent.

Before going to bed that night I repeated the orders that had been
given to have breakfast, our bill, and the carriage, in readiness for
an early start next day, and took care to make sure that they had
been thoroughly understood. Consequently I was provoked to find, when
I left my room in the morning, that the whole household had overslept
itself, and there was no sign of preparation for our departure.

It was not to be endured that I should incur the stigma of being a
neglectful or incompetent travelling maid--I, who prided myself on my
talents as a courier! so I instantly set to work to arouse the
establishment from its sloth. Hunting about till I discovered where
a servant slept, I dragged her forcibly out of bed, and set her to
light the kitchen fire and prepare food. Then I woke the driver, and
insisted on his beginning at once to get ready the horses and
carriage. In short, I flew hither and thither, helping, hustling, and
exclaiming "Dépêche!" with such vigour that I managed fairly to
startle the leisurely Corsicans into a little activity, and to
procure breakfast for the two ladies, and get under weigh only half
an hour later than had been originally intended. The poor driver was
quite alarmed at my unexpected display of energy; he did not even
venture to wait to break his fast before starting, but hastily
crammed some food into his pocket for consumption on the road. I am
sure it was a relief to him to find that my severity relaxed when
once we were off; and that in order for him to eat his breakfast in
comfort, I was even willing to take the reins and drive, as I sat
beside him on the box.

The weather was still propitious. Enough snow had fallen in the night
to whiten the tops of the hills surrounding Zicavo, but now the sun
was shining, and warming the keen, delicious mountain air as we drove
down the valley.

We had not gone far before we met a funeral, which was so perfectly
simple, matter-of-fact, and devoid of anything ostentatious or
needless, that I thought it a model worthy of imitation in less
primitive places. Two mules drew a rough cart, in which lay the
corpse, uncoffined, and covered over with a gaudy-coloured shawl,
which allowed the outlines of the human form beneath to be plainly
visible. After the cart walked a dozen or so of people, betraying no
emotion, but looking serious and stolid. No vestige of black was to
be seen. They were dressed in their ordinary everyday garments,
carrying the bright-hued umbrellas which are popular in the island,
and the men having the customary wine-gourds slung round their
bodies. About the whole thing there was an absence of fuss, ceremony,
and demonstrativeness, combined with perfect gravity and propriety of
demeanour, which made me wish that all arrangers of funerals would
come and take a lesson at Zicavo.

The only stop we made during the morning was at a tiny little
village, where we waited a few minutes for the horses to be watered.
Whilst this was done, the two ladies and I did not get out of the
carriage, but sat where we were, drawn up outside a miserable
tumble-down sort of hovel that did duty as an inn. The loungers of
the hamlet soon gathered round to stare at us, and were joined by two
men who issued from the house. They both had guns, as I saw; but
there was nothing in the least remarkable about that, because a
Corsican almost always carries a gun _or_ an umbrella, and sometimes
both, so that their being armed did not at all astonish me. Nor did I
think it in any way peculiar when I heard them ask our driver who we
were, and where we were going. For I had by this time seen enough of
Corsican inquisitiveness to regard such inquiries as a mere matter of
course, and demonstrations of curiosity seemed to me more natural
than their absence.

The two men left the inn almost immediately after their questions had
been answered. I saw them leave the village, and a little way farther
on I caught a glimpse of them again turning off the road, and
plunging into the thick bushes on either side. I concluded that they
were a couple of "chasseurs," such as one sees perpetually in
Corsica, and then thought no more about them.

Our course at this period of the journey was very tortuous and
indirect, in consequence of numerous narrow valleys which were too
steep for anything on wheels to cross in a straight line. Therefore
the road often had to go round for miles, in order to get from one
side to another of a valley which was, perhaps, not a mile broad;
and the distance from point to point that had to be traversed by
whoever kept to the road was generally many times more than it would
have been to the proverbial crow. Hence it evidently followed that a
pedestrian, climbing straight up and down the precipitous hillsides
would be able to get over the ground as quickly as a carriage could
do. And if this is borne in mind, it will assist the reader in
comprehending the events which I have now to relate.



                            CHAPTER XVI.

                       ESCAPED PENITENCIERS.


The horses were to be taken out of the carriage to have a thorough
rest, once in the course of the day, so we halted for that purpose
between twelve and one o'clock. We were then exactly at the head of
one of the long narrow valleys I have already mentioned. It was a
wild desolate spot, where not a habitation was to be seen, nor any
human being except ourselves. The view before us consisted of the sky
overhead, and of two steep hillsides--at some places appearing to be
barely a gunshot apart--which converged from the entrance of the
valley to the point where we were. These were clothed from top to
bottom with a dense mass of trees and _maquis_, whose sombre
green tints, were only broken by a sharply-cut, thin, yellowish line,
which marked, on one hand, the road we had just traversed, and, on
the other, that by which we should presently continue the journey.
The sun had quite sufficient power to make shade acceptable, so we
seated ourselves under an _ilex_ by the side of a clear bubbling
spring of water, and ate the lunch that we had brought with us from
Zicavo.

We were not long over the meal, and as soon as it was finished the
driver was asked when he would be ready to resume the journey. He
answered that the horses ought to have more than an hour longer of
rest, and that then they would go on quite fresh to the end of the
day. On hearing this Mrs. Rollin sent me to the carriage to fetch a
couple of cushions, with which she established herself comfortably on
the ground, and then opened one of Xavier de Montepin's novels.
Meanwhile Kitty had got out her drawing materials.

"I think that I'll walk on, and see if I can't find a sketch
somewhere," she said. "As there's only one road, I can't possibly
lose my way; then you can pick me up when you overtake me in the
carriage." But her aunt was not prepared to assent readily to this
proposal.

"Oh, you'd better not go on all by yourself, my dear," she said
uneasily. "Do try and find something to draw near here--a cloud or a
tree, or a bit of the road, or something. It's not the thing for a
girl of your age to be seen walking about the roads alone, you know."

"I don't think that need trouble us in these solitudes," answered
Kitty laughing. "There's nothing except kites and crows to see what I
do, and I don't imagine that _they_ will be much shocked at my
proceedings."

"Don't you be too sure of there being only kites and crows," returned
Mrs. Rollin; "people often turn up so unexpectedly! There _might_ be
some acquaintance of ours travelling here now; and if so, he or she
would be sure to meet us just when we didn't want to be met, and then
go home and say that I let you go about alone just as you pleased,
and that I took no care whatever of you! Besides, supposing your
sketching were to take you off the road, perhaps we should not see
where you were, and go past without knowing it. I should be in such a
fidget for fear of that happening, that I know I shouldn't enjoy the
drive _a bit_ till I had you all safe with me again."

"You needn't be uneasy on that score," said Kitty, looking at her
watch; "the jingling of the horses' bells could hardly fail to inform
me of your approach; but I won't trust only to that. I'll keep an eye
on the time, and as I can reckon certainly on your not leaving here
for another hour, I can calculate when to return to the road if I
should turn off it anywhere. I assure you I haven't the least
intention of doing anything so silly as to let myself be left behind,
so you can drive along with a perfectly tranquil mind, and an
absolute certainty that I am somewhere on ahead, until you see me
waiting for you."

Here I took the liberty of joining in their conversation. Having been
sitting still and cramped up on the box for some time, I felt much
disposed to stretch my legs; so I said,

"I shall be very glad to accompany Miss Mervyn if she has no
objection. Then I could stay on the road near where she is, if she
happens to leave it; and that would make it quite impossible for the
carriage to go past her by mistake."

"Of _course_, that's the way to manage it," exclaimed Mrs. Rollin;
"how stupid of me not to have thought of it at first! Yes, Kitty--you
take Jill with you; it will look so much better than for you to be
wandering on by yourself; and then my mind will be quite easy about
not passing you by accident."

"Very well," returned Kitty; "I'm afraid it'll be rather dull for her
dawdling about at my heels--only I daresay it won't be very lively to
stay here with nothing to do either, so she may as well come. We'll
start at once, Jill, please; for I want to have as much time as
possible for sketching before the carriage overtakes us."

Accordingly she and I walked off briskly along the road which led
towards our destination, leaving Mrs. Rollin, the driver, and
carriage, to follow in course of time when the horses should be
sufficiently refreshed. We must have tramped, I should think, about
two miles before Kitty came to a place which inspired her with a
desire to make a sketch. Of course the next thing to be done was to
discover the most satisfactory point of view from which the sketch
was to be taken. After a little reconnoitring she found a spot that
was to her mind. It was a short distance below the road, and in
order to get to it we had to scramble down through a mass of arbutus,
and of an immense kind of heath, growing taller than our heads--which
two shrubs constituted the chief part of the scrub (or _maquis_) at
that place.

Having accompanied Kitty to the spot she had selected, and seen her
comfortably settled down to her drawing, I looked at my watch. This
showed me that there was still a long while to elapse before the
carriage would be in motion again, and that, therefore, there was no
need for me to be in a hurry about getting back to the road yet.
Watching Kitty sketch was not particularly amusing, so I left her and
wandered off through the bushes. About fifty yards from where she was
I came to a bit of broken rocky ground, somewhat resembling a tiny
quarry, and completely overgrown by arbutus. Here I tucked myself
away snugly into a corner under one of these bushes, and lay lazily
contemplating its splendid red and yellow berries, which were as big
as good-sized plums. They looked most delicious; and as I knew the
arbutus is not poisonous, I gathered a berry to ascertain whether the
taste at all corresponded to the appearance; I was disappointed to
find, however, that this was not the case, as the flavour, though
rather sweet, was insipid, watery, and vapid.

My curiosity respecting arbutus fruit being thus satisfied, and I
having nothing particular to do, I next began amusing myself by
endeavouring to work out a rule-of-three sum in my head. But before
my calculations had advanced far they were interrupted by a crackling
rustling noise that issued from the bushes growing above, between me
and the road. It sounded as if some heavy body were making its way
through them; and the noise approached nearer and nearer, till it
reached quite close to the recess in which I was ensconced. Then the
crackling ceased, and I heard a male voice speaking in low and
cautious tones. A bit of rock, on which grew the bush under which I
was seated, intervened between me and the speaker, so that I could
not see him; but he was near enough for every one of his words to
be distinctly audible to me. He spoke in Italian--that being the
language which the people of the country almost always use amongst
themselves when they do not talk Corsican, though French is the
official tongue, and the one generally employed in communications
with foreigners.

"But where are they, César?" said the voice, with a somewhat
impatient accent. "You say that from the top of the hill you plainly
saw two of them who left the carriage to repose itself, and went on
alone. Is it not droll how those English always desire to walk? In
that case they ought to be somewhere about here now, yet we have
looked both up and down the road, and they are not there. What then
has become of them? May be that they have turned and gone back
again."

"_Diavolo_! that would be too provoking," answered César. "It was
unlucky that I lost sight of them as I descended the hill, but it
could not possibly be helped, for the bushes were too thick to see
through."

"Well, there is sure to be fine spoil to be had out of these rich
English," said the first speaker, "and we must try to get hold of it
somehow. If we fail to find these two by themselves, I suppose we
must do what we thought of at first--manage to upset the carriage at
that sharp corner of the road further on, and attack when all is in
confusion."

"But what if the carriage should not upset after all?" objected
César; "or what if the driver should carry arms and show fight? Then
perhaps we should be wounded, captured, and shut up again in prison.
Bah! I hate that prison! Have we not been used like dogs there, and
compelled to beat the _maquis_ near Chiavari for _sangliers_, when
some English milord wanted a _chasse_? And is it not an altogether
detestable place? Truly I have no fancy to go there again, and I much
prefer this second plan to the first one that we thought of. We shall
have no danger to fear in dealing with only two women. Let us on no
account be foolhardy, Napoleon."

"Certainly not," answered Napoleon; "I have no more wish than you
have either to go back to prison or to encounter needless peril!
Still, it will be a pity if we cannot secure the golden prize that
destiny throws in our way. Those two must be somewhere not far off at
this very moment, unless by bad luck they should have turned back
just after you first saw them. Do you think they can have gone off
from the road?" "It is possible," returned César; "anyhow, it is too
soon yet to despair of finding them. Do you, Napoleon, go and watch
on the road, whilst I search the _maquis_ on each side, first below
and then above. Whichever of us discovers them can summon the other
by a whistle."

"Good," replied Napoleon. And with that the two men separated and
went off in different directions, as I knew by the rustling of the
bushes.

Here, then, were two villains in search of Kitty and me, with evil
intentions towards us, and we were quite defenceless. Truly, a
pleasant predicament to be in! What was I to do now?

Had I been able to reason out at leisure what course a person ought
to pursue in such a situation, I feel sure that my answer to the
above question would have been: Take care of your own safety, keep
out of the men's clutches the best way you can, and do not bother
yourself about any one else. But when the situation actually
occurred, I acted on the impulse of the moment, because there was
no time to think the matter over carefully, and take counsel with
reason. And the consequence of being in such a hurry was, that I did
not behave with that prudent regard to my own interests which was
generally characteristic of me. I was frightened I must candidly
confess, and I desired ardently to be anywhere in security, and to
avoid meeting either Napoleon or César. Yet, strange to say, I was
influenced at that moment by something else than care for myself. My
predominant anxiety--the one object on which my mind was fixed--was,
to get to Kitty as quickly as possible, to warn her of the danger, to
stand by her, to try to save her. It was certainly very unlike
me to have felt like that, and I do not know what occasioned so
extraordinary a departure from my usual sentiments. However, there
the feeling was, and "_c'était plus fort que moi_." Consequently, I
only waited where I was till the men were far enough off for me to
leave my hiding-place without danger of being discovered, and then
instantly set out to rejoin her. Taking the utmost pains to move
quietly, lest the shaking of the bushes should betray my presence,
I crept through the _maquis_. Meanwhile I mentally reviewed the
situation, and considered how we could extricate ourselves from it.

I inferred, from what the men had said, that they were not particularly
brave, and would probably not venture to attack the carriage if they
found its occupants prepared to receive them. Therefore, if we could
get safely back to our driver and put him on his guard, there would
not be much to fear from the rascals. But then the question was,
_could_ we get back safely? could we, by crawling through bushes,
dodging behind trees, and keeping out of sight as much as possible,
retrace our steps to the carriage unperceived? On the whole, I
thought it was to be managed--provided, of course, that I could
reach Kitty and get her away before either of our enemies had found
her. As they did not know that they were detected, they would expect
to meet us going about carelessly and openly, without the least
attempt at concealment. This was all in our favour, as it would
prevent them from looking for us as closely as they would otherwise
have done. Besides, if they did not find us in that immediate
neighbourhood, they would discontinue the search, under the
impression that we must have returned to the carriage almost directly
after leaving it. Therefore it would be only necessary for us to keep
in hiding till we had got some distance from where we then were;
after that, we could leave the _maquis_, and take to the road, where
we should be able to run along at full speed, without troubling to
keep out of sight.

As I thought of all this, it seemed to me that we had a very
reasonable prospect of escape--unless, by bad luck, I should fail
to get to Kitty before one of the men had found her--everything
appeared to me to depend upon that.

I had left her on a small open space which jutted out a little from
the hillside, so as to form a sort of diminutive plateau. Great was
my relief, when I came to the edge of this place, to see her still
sketching happily, and evidently without a suspicion of danger. She
glanced towards me for an instant, and then at once resumed her work,
thinking that I was come to fetch her away, and that she must make
the most of every remaining moment. Thus her eyes were upon the
drawing, and so she did not see the gesture which I made to her to be
silent, lest an enemy should be within hearing.

"Is it time to go, already?" she said, speaking out loud, as it was
natural she should do. "Isn't your watch--"

By that time I was within reach of her, and stopped further utterance
forcibly by covering her mouth with my hand. Looking up in surprise
and wrath at so unceremonious a proceeding on the part of her maid,
she saw by my face that there was something seriously amiss. I began
to tell her in a whisper, as fast as I could, what was the state of
affairs.

Unluckily the few words she had spoken had wrought the mischief I
feared, and showed our whereabouts to one of the villains who were
hunting for us. Consequently, I had hardly commenced my hurried
communication in her ear, when a low whistle sounded close by, and
next moment a man with a gun in his hand stepped out of the bushes,
and on to the little plateau where we were. This, then, was no doubt
the rogue named César, whom I had heard undertake to explore the
_maquis_ for us. As I looked at him, I recognised him to be one of
the two men whom I had noticed inquiring about us two or three hours
before, at the inn where the horses had been watered. That at once
made the whole matter clear to me.

I have already mentioned that the nature of the ground was such as
to enable a pedestrian to travel from point to point as fast as a
carriage could do. Knowing this, César and his companion must have
made up their minds to hurry on in front, and lie in wait for us at
some spot which we had not yet reached, and which they deemed
especially favourable for an attack on the carriage. But on their way
to the place that they had chosen for an ambush, they had evidently
caught sight of Kitty and me leaving the carriage, and been diverted
from their first scheme by the hope of securing the coveted booty
in a less hazardous manner than the one they had originally
contemplated. It was all as plain as a pike-staff to me now.

César accosted us in French, saying, in the regular beggar's whine,
"Will the ladies have the goodness to give something to a poor man?"

Though I had not had time fully to explain things to Kitty, she had
picked up enough to know that we were in danger from two escaped
_penitenciers_, and when she saw César she guessed that he was one
of them.

This sudden confronting with peril, however, produced in her no
trepidation, sign of cowardice, or inclination to quail. She was too
proud for that. Her compressed lips, flashing eyes, and hard,
resolute, disdainful, undaunted expression, showed a nature that
would set its back to the wall (not that there was one handy on the
present occasion, however), and fight to the last gasp, but would
never flinch an atom, come what might.

"I have nothing for you," she replied, speaking as haughtily as
though we had been in no way in the man's power.

"But I feel sure that Madame deceives herself," insisted César, who
apparently did not wish to proceed to extremities till the arrival of
his comrade Napoleon; "if she will have the complaisance to seek, she
will without doubt discover money, a watch, rings, brooches, chains,
or some such little thing that would keep a poor man from dying of
hunger."

At this point in the conversation, it occurred to me that a good loud
scream for help might be introduced with singular appropriateness;
and I proceeded to put my idea into execution. César, however, was of
a different opinion, and evidently considered the interruption an
untimely one; for no sooner did I uplift my voice, than he aimed his
gun at me, exclaiming savagely, "Silence at once, or I'll kill you!"

I had no option about obeying this order, because just at that
moment, Napoleon--who was hastening up in obedience to his companion's
summons--came through the bushes behind where I stood, and clapped
his hand roughly over my mouth.

César grinned mockingly when he saw me thus reduced to silence, and
lowered his gun again.

"That was an atrocious noise!" he remarked. "Permit me to inform you,
madame--first, that screams cannot assist you, since there is no one
but us within hearing; secondly, that my friend and myself have
inconceivably tender hearts and sensitive nerves. Consequently we
cannot endure the least sound of distress; and if you should
utter another cry in our presence, we should be compelled, most
reluctantly, to cut your throat in order to spare the exquisite
sensibility of our natures. And having given you this caution, let us
return to the more pleasing subject of the little _souvenirs_ which
you generous ladies are going to bestow upon us. Will you like us to
save you trouble by helping ourselves to them?"

Kitty was as composed as though she had been seated in her father's
drawing-room in Eaton Square, and now said to me in English:

"I'm afraid he's right about there being no one in hearing to help
us, Jill, so it's no good screaming. As resistance is useless, we may
as well give up our purses and trinkets quietly." Then she continued
in French, replying to what the man had said last: "No--you need not
help yourselves. We will hand over to you all we have."

Accordingly we pulled out our money, and took off the few things of
any value we happened to be wearing--such as watches, chains, and
collar and sleeve studs. These, however, were worth but little, all
put together. People do not take valuable jewellery with them on a
rough driving-tour; and as Mrs. Rollin was our treasurer, Kitty and I
had barely ten francs between us in our purses. The two robbers,
therefore, who had been reckoning confidently on making a large haul,
were greatly dissatisfied and disappointed at the insignificance
of the booty they had secured.

"This won't do _at all_," grumbled César; "the idea of capturing a
couple of the rich English, and then not getting more than _this_ out
of them! It is ridiculous! Let us see what is to be done--only first
they must be kept from running away."

And then, after making fast our hands and feet, they drew a few steps
aside, and proceeded to confer together in a low voice.

Though they had spoken to us in French, yet in their communications
to one another they used Italian. Noticing this, it occurred to me
that if they were to suppose us both to be ignorant of that tongue,
they would probably talk more freely before us than they would do if
they thought we understood what was said; in this way we might,
perhaps, pick up valuable information; or at least _I_ might--for
Kitty's knowledge of Italian was very limited. I at once imparted my
idea to her, and suggested we should pretend that we understood only
French. I expected she would assent to this as a matter of course;
but, to my surprise, she hesitated, and her face showed that the
proposition was distasteful to her.

"Well--I don't know," she replied, after a minute's consideration,
"I can't allow a couple of scamps to make me degrade myself by
telling a lie. If they ask me whether I understand them or not, I
shall most certainly tell them the truth."

I was dismayed at this clinging to principles of scrupulous honour in
dealing with the two rogues who had us in their power. Her sentiments
were very chivalrous and noble, no doubt; but they appeared to me
both uncalled-for and out of place at the present moment, and I
endeavoured to combat them. "Surely," I said, "you don't deny the
truth of the old saying that all is fair in love and war?"

Her lip curled scornfully as she replied, "That has nothing to do
with it. To my mind a lie would be none the less _mean_ because it
might be _fair_. I should lose my self-respect if I were to tell
one."

Even whilst smarting at the reproof which was thus conveyed to me for
having advocated lying, I could not help admiring the indomitable
pride which was unaffected by considerations of expediency, and would
under no circumstances consent to do what was contrary to its sense
of dignity. The hankering after her good opinion which I always felt
made me wonder uneasily what she would think of me if she knew how
many untruths my self-respect had managed to put up with during my
existence. And then I felt half-disgusted with my past conduct, and
it flashed upon me that I had a great mind to turn over a new leaf in
the matter in future, and behave more according to the principles
which she approved of and practised. That, however, should be
reserved for further consideration, as the present was obviously not
a favourable occasion for inaugurating any reform of the kind. Having
arrived at which conclusion, I silently resolved to carry out my plan
for deceiving our captors, if possible, in spite of her objection.
Consequently, when one of them, speaking in Italian, asked which of
us two ladies was the most important one, I affected to be utterly
unconscious of having been addressed. Kitty, fortunately, was seated
farther off from the man than I was, and did not hear what he said,
or discover that he was not still continuing the conversation with
his comrade.

The man repeated his question a second time in Italian. Finding that
we both remained mute, he asked in French how long it would be before
he had an answer. I hastened to reply to this, speaking quickly and
in a low tone, lest Kitty should hear what I said, and be prompted by
her inconveniently high-flown sentiments to contradict me flatly. I
made believe to be quite astonished to find he had been speaking to
us, and most anxious to deprecate his wrath--assuring him that we
neither of us understood Italian, and begging him to excuse us,
therefore, for the involuntary rudeness of which we had been
guilty in not responding to his question. Luckily my precaution of
speaking indistinctly, and the fact of Kitty's being a few yards
off, prevented her from catching what passed between me and my
interlocutor. The two men then came and stood in front of us, and
Napoleon said in French, "We want to know which of you two ladies is
of the most importance--the chief one?"

"I am," answered Kitty.

"Good," he returned; "then it is to you that I will speak. We know
that you cannot be travelling about with no more money than 10
francs, and that you English are always rolling in gold. It follows,
therefore, that your riches must be in the keeping of that other lady
who stayed with the carriage. Now, those riches we must and will
have, and we propose that you shall earn your liberty by helping us
to get them. Will you do this?"

"Tell me what you want me to do, first," answered Kitty; "then I will
tell you whether I will do it or not."

"Very reasonable!" replied Napoleon. "Our plan is this. You must
write to your friend in the carriage such a note as will induce her
to follow the bearer at once, in order to join you. The note will be
entirely in French, and contain not a word of English, so as to make
sure that you say nothing in it that we do not approve of. One of us
will take it to her; then he will conduct her to a safe spot, and
relieve her of the money and trinkets that she has. Should the worth
of these be sufficient to satisfy our just expectations, you will
none of you be detained any longer."

"And supposing the spoil is less than you anticipate," inquired
Kitty, "what then?"

"Ah--but that cannot be, I feel sure!" he returned; "our expectations
are most moderate; it cannot be that three ladies would travel about
so far from their own country without having with them as much money
as would satisfy us!"

"Still I repeat my question," she said; "what would you do if _not_?
And, in any case, what certainty have I that you would keep your word
and release us afterwards?"

"If madame will not rely on our word of honour," answered he, smiling
disagreeably, "I fear she will have to content herself without that
certainty which she desires. _She_ is hardly in the position to
enforce any other guarantee of good faith; and _we_ shall not insult
ourselves by assuming such a thing to be necessary. And as for the
quite unlikely event of your friend's purse being insufficient to
meet our wants--why--ahem! when the case arises, it will be then
ample time to settle what is to be done. Here are paper and a pencil.
There is no time to lose. Will madame be so good as to write?"

Kitty looked at him steadily, without attempting to take the writing
materials he proffered. "And do you suppose, then," she said, "that I
shall consent to bait a trap to bring my aunt to be robbed? If so,
you are very greatly mistaken. And what inducement have you to offer
that should make me do so vile a thing? The mere chance that your
thirst for plunder might then be satiated, and that you might think
fit to set us free! I do not trust to your honour, nor will I do what
you wish. I believe that the plan is merely a _ruse_ to enable you to
secure a fresh victim, and that if you could get my aunt also into
your hands, you would keep us all three prisoners."

This accusation was met with vehement denials; and our captors
again endeavoured to persuade her to assist them by assuring her it
would be to her advantage to do so, and threatening her with evil
consequences if she persisted in her refusal. Finding, however, that
she remained unmoved by whatever they said, they bethought them that
perhaps _I_ might be made to write such a letter as they required,
and applied to me accordingly. Kitty, on this, gave me peremptory
orders that I was on no account to comply with their request; and I
obeyed her in the matter all the more willingly because I had very
little doubt that her surmise was correct as to the treachery which
the scoundrels had in contemplation.

But however much Mrs. Rollin might benefit from our refusal to lend
ourselves to their designs, it certainly did not help us in any way.
The two men had made up their minds that they were going to get
enormous spoils out of "these rich English," and had no idea of
resigning their hopes merely because Kitty and I would not aid them
to execute their first scheme. Therefore, when they saw they had no
chance of carrying their point about that, they determined to adopt
another line of action, which was announced to us by César.

People so unaccommodating and perverse as we were, he said angrily,
deserved to be got rid of altogether; and in such a case as this,
most gentlemen of the road would not be troubled with us any longer,
but cut our throats without ceremony, and so make an end of the
business at once. He and his friend, however, being of so gentle a
disposition as never to resort to violence _if it could be helped_,
would give us a chance of escape. It was their intention to
communicate with our friends, and offer to restore us uninjured on
payment of a specified sum, which would have to be handed over with
such precautions as would ensure the safety of the recipients. Till
that was received we should reside under their care in the hills.
"But," added the ruffian menacingly, and addressing himself
especially to Kitty, "we cannot wait for ever for the answer, you
know, so we shall tell your friends that if the ransom is not
forthcoming pretty quickly, we shall try to hasten its arrival by
sending some little reminder, such as an ear, a nose, a hand, or a
foot; and of course these souvenirs would, in the first place, be
furnished by you, since you are of more consequence than your
companion. Hers would come later."

When I heard this I could not repress a shudder at the peril awaiting
my cherished members--though, as those of Kitty were destined to be
sacrificed first, the danger to mine was only a reversionary one.
She, however, who was more immediately threatened than I was, neither
trembled, changed colour, nor gave any other indication of emotion,
but remained as unmoved and haughtily composed as before.

I did not forget that she had been affected by some feeling too
strong to be concealed when I had suddenly showed her the photograph
of Captain Norroy. And the difference between her demeanour then
and now made me wonder more than ever what the feeling could have
been which had had power to upset the self-command of a person
so high-couraged, strong, and proudly imperturbable as she most
certainly was.



                           END OF VOL. I.



              _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._



                         TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE


Obvious printing errors have been silently corrected throughout.
Otherwise, inconsistencies and possible errors have been preserved.



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