For the Cause

by Stanley John Weyman

  THE PROFESSOR AND THE HARPY.

  Mother Church, who in bygone ages sheltered all the learning of theland beneath her broad wings, and who, even after this monopoly hadpassed away from her, continued to provide for learners and learned ina munificent fashion, has in these latter times been sadly shorn ofwealth and patronage by the relentless march of progress and theEcclesiastical Commissioners. Yet there is balm in Gilead. Here andthere a sinecure has been suffered to remain for the benefit of thosewhose work is not altogether of the tangible kind so dear to thenineteenth century; here and there a Reverend Jack Horner, putting histhumb into the diminished pie of Church preferment, can pull out aplum, and, sitting down under the shadow of some gray cathedral tower,can draw soothing deductions after the manner of his juvenileprototype. A bishopric may no longer be a post of dignified ease,archdeacons may be men doomed to perpetual hurry and worry, wealthypluralists may have become an extinct class, but a Canon of LichburyCathedral is still a personage whose comfortable dwelling andcomfortable income are rather the acknowledgment of past distinctionthan the equivalent of any present labor. Not, of course, that theDean and Chapter of Lichbury are a body of worn-out pensioners. It isby no means in that light that they are accustomed to regardthemselves; nor, indeed, are they so regarded by any, except theignorant and irreverent. If repose and competence have been bestowedupon them, it is not only because they have already enriched the worldwith the results of literary research, but that they may have moreleisure to continue doing so. Some of them have achieved renown asauthors of theological treatises, others are deeply versed inclassical lore; while some, like Canon Stanwick, hold universityprofessorships.

  The latter divine was understood to owe his canonry (which had beenconferred upon him at a comparatively early age) to that celebratedwork, "The Life and Times of the Emperor Julian," in which aninteresting character and an interesting period of history had been soexhaustively and impartially treated of as to leave no room forfurther exploration of the same ground. Whether, as his admirersdeclared, the Professor had surpassed Gibbon as triumphantly in thehandling of his subject as Gibbon surpassed Voltaire and other earlierwriters, and whether in the course of his well-weighed observations hehad made out as good a case for the church which he represented as waspossible and desirable, are questions which need not be discussedhere. One consequence, at all events, of his accomplished task hadbeen to place him in the front rank of living historians, and anotherhad been his appointment to a vacant stall in Lichbury Cathedral.

  This last reward of merit should have been especially grateful to him,for he was a bachelor of retired habits, whose life had been spentamong his books, and to whom life had little left to offer in the wayof attractions save increased opportunities for study; and, in fact,he was, as a general thing, very well satisfied with his lot.Nevertheless, as he paced up and down his smooth lawn one morning inAugust, he was in a less contented frame of mind than usual. Thewhispering of the summer breeze in the old elms, the cawing of therooks, the occasional deliberate ding-dong of the cathedral clock faroverhead, checking off the slumberous quarters and half-hours--allthese familiar sounds had failed to produce upon him that sense ofcalm which is so conducive of thought; he had been compelled to layaside the opening chapter of his new work, "The Rise of the Papacy,"and to take to walking to and fro in the garden, with his hands behindhis back and his gray head sunk beneath shoulders which were somewhatprematurely bowed.

  The truth was that the Professor, like other professors, had once beenyoung, and that the days of his youth had been vividly andunexpectedly brought back to him the night before. This is always adisturbing thing to happen to a man; and what made it particularly soin Canon Stanwick's case was that his youth had been marked by atrouble which he had taken terribly to heart at the time of itsoccurrence. To be jilted is no such rare experience, and to get overit with great rapidity is the ordinary lot of the jilted one; but somefew strangely constituted mortals there are who never get over it, andof these Canon Stanwick happened to be one. Certainly, at the age offifty-five he had long ceased to think with any bitterness of theshallow-hearted Julia to whom he had become engaged immediately aftertaking orders, and who had thrown him over in favor of a man of muchgreater wealth and higher position; he had, indeed, ceased to thinkabout her at all. But not the less was it her conduct which had shapedthe course of his life. By it he had been driven into deep study, intoan Oxford professorship, and finally into a canonry; by it also he hadbeen driven out of society, and especially out of female society, forwhich the treachery of one member of the sex had imbued him with astrong repugnance. At Oxford, where he had resided up to the timeof his recent preferment, the ladies had quite given him up. It hadbeen understood there that he did not care for the relaxation ofdinner-parties and tea-parties; and it was a somewhat singularcoincidence that, having from a sense of duty consented to breakthrough his long-standing rule and dine with the Dean of Lichbury, heshould have found himself seated opposite to his old love, whom, byanother odd coincidence, he had wooed, won, and lost in that veryneighborhood so long before.

  This chance meeting had upset the worthy man a good deal. In thegray-haired but vivacious Mrs. Annesley who had claimed acquaintancewith him across the table, he had scarcely recognized the heroine ofhis buried romance, nor had he either the wish or the power toresuscitate the tender feelings with which he had once regarded her;but the sight of her had stirred up old memories within him, and thesehad haunted him through the night, had prevented the Papacy fromrising satisfactorily in the morning, and finally, as aforesaid, hadsent him out into the open air, a prey to vague regrets.

  So that elderly lady was Julia Annesley! And she had grown-up sons anddaughters, about whom she talked a great deal; and her husband wasdead--the husband for whom she had never cared, and whom she madelittle pretence of regretting. To all appearance, she regrettednothing. Why should she, when she had all that a woman could wish tohave? Perhaps, thought the Professor, it might be a better thing to bethe father of sons and daughters, when one was growing old, than to bethe author of an unrivalled monograph on the merits and demerits ofJulian the Apostate. To be sure, there was no reason why one shouldn'tbe both. And then he fell to wondering whether that ambition which hadbeen the chief cause of Julia's infidelity could have been satisfiedwith such fame and social standing as an historian, a professor, and acanon may lay claim to. Only, if he had married Julia, he wouldprobably have begun and ended as a country parson. He smiled athimself for indulging in such nonsensical fancies at his time of life;but he went on dreaming all the same until he was startled by theopening of a gate which connected his house with the Precincts.

  Somebody strode with a brisk, ringing step up the brick pathway to thefront door, singing loudly,--

  "I loved her, _and_ she might have been The happiest _in_ the land; But she fancied a foreigner who played the clarinet In the middle of a Ger-man band."

  Then came a vigorous pull at the bell, followed by subdued whistlingof the air of this apposite but vulgar ditty. It was not after soindecorous a fashion that the Professor's visitors were wont toapproach him, and he could not resist the temptation to steal softlyacross the turf past the library windows and see who might be theauthor of all this disturbance. His curiosity was rewarded by afull-length view of a handsome, merry-looking young fellow in undresscavalry uniform, who himself happened to be peeping round the cornerat that moment, and who at once advanced, saying: "Oh, how do you do?Canon Stanwick isn't it? My mother asked me to leave this note for youas I passed--Mrs. Annesley, you know. She says you and she are oldfriends."

  "I am much obliged to you, sir," said the Professor in his gravevoice, taking the note. "Pray come in."

  "Can't, thanks," answered the other; "I must be off to barracks. Seeyou this afternoon on the cricket-ground though, I hope. We've got agreat match on--garrison against the county. We shall be awfullylicked of course; but everybody will be up
there, and it's somethingto do. Very glad to see you if you'll come to our tent. You'll find mymother there; the note's to tell you all about it. Good-bye for thepresent."

  And with that this unceremonious young man clanked away, leaving theProfessor, who had not looked on at a cricket match for a matter ofthirty years, much amused. The note ran as follows:

  Deanery, Lichbury: Thursday.

  "Dear Canon Stanwick,--I hope, if you are disengaged this afternoon,you will join our party on the cricket-ground, and give me theopportunity, which I sought in vain last night, of having a littletalk with you. I am obliged to leave to-morrow morning, and I am sovery anxious to have a few words with you before I go _about my son_,who is quartered here. Do come, and

  "Believe me most sincerely yours,

  "Julia Annesley."

  "Oh, by all means," said the Professor, who had a solitary man's habitof thinking aloud. "I shall feel rather like a fish out of water amongall those people; but never mind, I'll go. Only I can't think why youshould want to talk to me about your son."

  Perhaps the Professor was still a little in the dark as to this point,even after a long interview with Mrs. Annesley; though he certainlycould not complain of any want of candor upon the lady's part. TheLichbury cricket-ground is justly celebrated both for its extent andfor the beauty of its situation, and the numerous matches of which itis the scene during the summer season are always well attended. TheProfessor made his way through a double line of carriages and drags,feeling and looking very much like a man who has suddenly emerged froma dark room upon a crowded thoroughfare. The confused din raised by alarge concourse of people, mingled with the strains of the militaryband which was in attendance, and the shouts of eager partisans ofgarrison or county, bewildered him; and it was only after repeatedinquiries that he succeeded in reaching the entrance of the cavalrytent, where he stood for a minute blinking in the sunshine, and tryingwith shortsighted eyes to distinguish among the assemblage of gaylydressed ladies seated there the one of whom he was in search. But ifhe did not see her, she very soon saw him, and came forward, holdingout a tiny pair of beautifully gloved hands.

  "_How_ good of you to come!" she exclaimed. "Suppose we take a turnround the ground; then we can talk quietly."

  She was a bright, alert little woman, her gray hair, which was drawnstraight up from her forehead, contrasting oddly with her stillyouthful complexion, and giving her somewhat of the appearance of aneighteenth-century _marquise_. The Professor was not quite surewhether he ought to offer her his arm or not, but finally decidingthat this was unnecessary, made a grab at his shapeless felt hat, andmuttered, "Delighted, I'm sure." He was a little embarrassed in thepresence of his former love, whose first words showed that she, forher part, had no such foolish feeling.

  "Is it not strange that we should meet again at Lichbury after allthese years?" she began. "I have often thought of you, and often feltsorry." She paused and sighed. "One does not expect men to take thingsso seriously--generally, you know, it is the men who forget, and thewomen who suffer; but I suppose you are different. And I have spoiltyour life!"

  The Professor smiled. He was thinking that most people would hardlydescribe his life as having been a spoilt one; he was thinking, too,that the Julia who had caused him so much mental anguish in years goneby was quite another person from the complacent little lady who wastrying to make apologies for her. He rather wished she would drop thesubject; but he said nothing, and Mrs. Annesley resumed:

  "You ought to hate me--I quite feel that; but doesn't some cleverperson say somewhere that we never hate those who have injured us,only those whom we have injured? I have injured you dreadfully; butfor all that, I want to make friends--and to ask a favor of you intothe bargain." She concluded her sentence with a little laugh and aside glance from eyes which had done much execution in their day.

  "I am sure I shall be very glad if I can serve you in any way," saidthe Professor simply; "and I think we may very well agree to letbygones be bygones. It was something about your son, you said?"

  "Ah, yes, poor fellow!" sighed Mrs. Annesley; "I can't tell you howanxious and distressed I am about him. He is quartered here with hisregiment, the 27th Lancers, and he absolutely refuses to leave theservice, though, as of course you know, he succeeded to a very largeproperty when he came of age."

  "He is still very young," remarked the Professor. "I should thinkanother year or two of soldiering would do him no harm."

  "But it is absurd for a man with three large country houses to live inbarracks. I want him to marry and settle down. I want him--only thisis strictly between ourselves--to marry Violet Cecil. She is such acharming girl, and so pretty--don't you think so?"

  "Is she?" asked the Professor. "I scarcely know her."

  "But you and Mr. Cecil were always such great friends, I thought."

  "We had not met for many years until I came down here, and I have onlyseen Miss Cecil once. I did not notice her particularly."

  "How funny of you! But I remember that you were never very observant.Well, I was going to tell you about poor Bob--oh! there he is. Ishould like so much to introduce him to you."

  "He introduced himself to me this morning," observed the Professor,smiling.

  "Oh, did he? Well, I could not introduce him _now_, at any rate," saidMrs. Annesley, meaningly.

  The Professor adjusted his glasses, and following the direction of hergaze, made out his visitor of the morning, who had exchanged hisuniform for a suit of cricketing flannels, and who was pacing along bythe side of a tall, fine-looking woman with dark hair. The young manwore a downcast look, and his evident unwillingness to raise his eyesseemed to show that he was conscious of his mother's vicinity.

  "Oh, I see!" said the Professor, with a perspicacity which did himcredit.

  "Yes; isn't it dreadful? What any man can find to admire in such awoman I can't conceive."

  "She is handsome and--very well dressed," hazarded the Professor,after another survey of the lady's retreating form.

  "Well dressed!" ejaculated Mrs. Annesley, throwing up her hands. "Ifyou can say that, you would say anything. Pale blue satin andimitation lace--good gracious! But of course you don't understandthese things."

  "Certainly," the Professor agreed, "I am no judge of such matters. Butwho is this lady?"

  "Ah, who indeed? That is exactly what nobody knows. She is a Mrs.Harrington--at least, that is what she calls herself; and I believeshe is one of those dreadful harpies who follow regiments about allover the world and ruin poor young men--or rather, rich young men. Sheis not exactly disreputable, I am told; I only wish she were!--No, Ididn't mean that--I forgot you were a clergyman. I beg your pardon,I'm sure."

  "Don't mind me," said the Professor. "And so you are afraid that shewill marry your son?"

  "I can't bear to say so; but it does look terribly like it, and I amso powerless. I have no influence over Bob, and it is impossible forme to remain down here; I have all my other children to look after,you know. Of course it would never do to breathe a word to the Cecils;otherwise they might be able to save him, for I am sure he is reallyfond of Violet. It struck me that perhaps you might give me a helpinghand."

  "I will most gladly, if I can," replied the Professor; "but I confessI don't at present see what I can do."

  "I am sure you could influence him in a quiet way; and then you mighttry to throw him as much as possible with the Cecils. You will haveplenty of opportunities of doing that, if you look for them. Andperhaps you would be very kind and write me a line every now and thento tell me how matters are going."

  The Professor shook his head and said he feared Mrs. Annesley wasleaning upon a broken reed. Nevertheless, he promised to do his best;and promises with him always meant a good deal. For the sake of olddays he was willing to do Mrs. Annesley a kindness; for the youngman's own sake he would gladly have disappointed the harpy; finally,he thought he would be rendering no small service to his friend
Cecil,if he could bring about a marriage between the daughter of that notvery wealthy country gentleman and one of the richest bachelors inEngland. The only question was how to set about achieving so desirablea result. He debated this problem for some time after Mrs. Annesleyhad been called away from his side by other acquaintances, and he wasstill standing with his hands behind his back, frowning meditatively,when Mr. Cecil, a fresh-colored squire, who lived within a few milesof Lichbury, caught sight of him and greeted him warmly.

  "Hollo, Stanwick! who'd have thought of seeing you on thecricket-ground? This is an unexpected honor for the club."

  "I didn't come here to look at the cricket; I came to see a very oldfriend of yours and mine--Mrs. Annesley," the Professor explained.

  "Ah, to be sure! How time does go on! Do you remember what a prettygirl she was, and how desperately in love we all were with her? Youwere as hard hit as any of us, if I recollect rightly. In fact, Ibelieve she was engaged to you in a sort of a way, wasn't she?"

  "In a sort of a way--yes."

  "And then she threw you over because she wanted to be rich andfashionable and all that. Well, well! she has had her reward. Have youseen her often since those days?"

  "Never until yesterday."

  "You don't say so! You can hardly have recognized one another, didyou? Both you and she have got on in life and got on in the worldsince you parted. Julia is a leader of society, and mixes freely withduchesses, which satisfies her soul; and you are one of thecelebrities of the day. It now only remains for me to get a prize formy pig, and then we shall all three have reached the highestdistinctions attainable in our respective walks in life."

  "Yes, yes," murmured the Professor dreamily; and presently he quotedin an undertone, "What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue!"

  "I'll be hanged if anybody shall call my pig a shadow!" returned Mr.Cecil, laughing, as he walked away. And then the Professor strolledslowly back to the quiet Precincts and "The Rise of the Papacy."

  II.

  A Man may be a learned historian and a dignitary of the Church, andyet retain a good deal of that diffidence which is more becoming thancommon among his juniors. Canon Stanwick, for one, carried modestyalmost to the dimensions of a vice. He was very shy of young men; hedid not know what to say to them; he felt convinced--possibly notwithout reason--that they must find him an old bore; and how toingratiate himself with a dashing young cavalry officer was a puzzlebeyond the compass of his imagination to solve. However, he hadpledged his word that he would do this, and accordingly, on the dayafter the cricket match, he asked a few friends to dinner, and invitedMr. Annesley to join the party.

  The young man came, and made himself so agreeable to the old ladiesand gentlemen whom he met that they were delighted with him, andallowed him to monopolize the lion's share of the conversation. Whichthing they would assuredly not have permitted in the case of anyordinary lancer or hussar; for in Lichbury the Church is disposed tolook a trifle askance at the Army, and to stand upon its dignity withthe representatives of the latter, who are overmuch given to riot andunseemly pranks. But about this particular lancer there was a perfectsimplicity of thought and language which, combined with a touch ofmilitary swagger, was quite irresistible; and so it came to pass thatCanon Stanwick's first dinner party proved the merriest that had beengiven in the Precincts for many a long day. As for the Professor, hebegan to feel a _quasi-_fatherly interest in the son of his formerflame, and when the rest of the guests had departed, ventured todetain him.

  "Do you ever--er--smoke a cigar before going to bed?" he askedhesitatingly.

  "I should be precious sorry to go to bed _without_ smoking a cigar,"answered the other, laughing.

  "Oh," said the Professor. "Well, I have formed the same habit myself,and if you had nothing better to do, and cared to keep me company forhalf an hour in my study, I could offer you a tolerably good cigar, Ithink; and--and I believe you'll find some soda-water and brandy onthe table."

  So presently this oddly matched pair were seated opposite to oneanother in the spacious room which served its present owner as libraryand study, the busts of Roman emperors and Greek philosophers lookingdown upon them from above the bookcases with an air of grave surprise.The Professor was a little timid and awkward at first, but the youngerman soon set him at his ease, and when he had received a good deal ofamusing information about the inhabitants of Lichbury and itsneighborhood, he thought he might feel his way towards the subjectwhich he was determined to broach.

  "I know very few people in these parts," he remarked; "I have not beenhere long, and am generally much occupied. But I have a long-standingacquaintance with the Cecils, who I think are also friends of yours."

  "Oh, rather!" responded the young man heartily. "Known them all mylife. Awfully jolly people--awfully good old chap, old Cecil. And Mrs.Cecil--she's awfully jolly too."

  Bob Annesley's vocabulary of adjectives made up in emphasis what itlacked in variety.

  "And Miss Cecil?" the Professor said. "I have only been fortunateenough to meet her once, but I am told that she is a singularlybeautiful and charming young lady."

  This leading observation elicited a somewhat less cordial assent fromBob, who murmured, "There's no question about that," and looked rathergrave for a few seconds.

  "I was thinking," went on the wily Professor, "that I should very muchlike to see more of her, her father having been such an intimatefriend of mine in former years; but I hesitate to ask young peopleinto my dull house unless I can provide some sort of amusement forthem. Do you think there would be room for a lawn-tennis court in thegarden?"

  "Oh, Lord bless your soul, yes!" answered the young man, rising to thefly most satisfactorily; "heaps of room. I'll tell you what: if you'dlike me to mark out the court for you, I'll do it to-morrow with thegreatest of pleasure, and I could make up a four any day that suitedyou and Miss Cecil."

  "I should be very much obliged to you. Let me see; you would wantanother lady, wouldn't you?" said the Professor, with some fear thathis accommodating guest might offer to bring Mrs. Harrington.

  He was relieved to find that no such indiscretion was contemplated.The young man said there were the Dean's daughters, or failing them,there was Mrs. Green, the wife of one of his brother officers, who wasa first-rate player and a friend of the Cecils. He could easily gether and her husband to come, and he was sure the Professor would likethem.

  So far, so good. There would apparently be no difficulty in bringingthe young people together; and as for the harpy, perhaps the momenthad hardly yet come for declaring war upon her. In the course of thefew following days the Professor tried to find out more about thismysterious lady; but the canons knew nothing of her, and the canons'wives sniffed and said that she was a person whom nobody visited,although, upon being pressed, they admitted that there was nothingdefinite against her. Possibly, after all, she might prove lessformidable than Mrs. Annesley had supposed, and the Professor wasconfirmed in this hope by the evident admiration with which Bobregarded Miss Cecil. That young lady willingly consented to drink teaand play tennis in the Precincts, and closer inspection showed thather personal attractions had been in no way exaggerated. Not only didshe possess a quantity of golden-brown hair, and eyes of the darkestblue, shaded by long curved lashes, but her features, complexion, andfigure were all perfect, and she had an enchanting smile. If any youngman could prefer the vulgar charms of a Mrs. Harrington to these, hemust be a very extraordinary young man indeed; and the Professor,watching the tennis-players from his cane arm-chair in the shade,smiled as he thought to himself that Bob Annesley had none of theoutward and visible signs of an extraordinary young man. Furthermore,he noticed that Annesley and Miss Cecil remained partners throughout;and though this might be a trivial basis upon which to buildconclusions, there was surely some significance in the fact that aftereach game these two sauntered away together, leaving Captain and Mrs.Green to entertain their host with polite conversation.

  When play w
as over for the day, a renewal of the contest at an earlydate was agreed upon, and after three such meetings the Professor feltjustified in despatching a consolatory note to Mrs. Annesley. "Ireally think you may make your mind quite easy," he wrote, "I have hadyour boy and Cecil's girl playing tennis in my garden several times;and even so inexperienced a looker-on as myself cannot fail toperceive that if ever two people were in love with each other, theyare. The 'harpy' I have not yet met, nor am I likely to do so; butCaptain Green of your son's regiment tells me that she is what iscalled a _garrison hack_--a term not known to me, but which I take tomean broadly that she is ready to flirt with all, and is consequentlydangerous to none."

  The folly of generalization was one to which the Professor was fullyalive in dealing with matters of historical interest; and had thequestion before him been of that kind, he would have been the first topoint out that, though this lady might not be dangerous _qua_ garrisonhack, there was no sure ground for assuming that she was not dangerous_qua_ Mrs. Harrington. Mrs. Annesley's grateful reply to his letterdid not reach him before he had begun to repent of his haste incommunicating with her.

  It was upon the occasion of an afternoon party, given by the officersof the 27th Lancers, that Canon Stanwick was privileged to make Mrs.Harrington's acquaintance. Had he been left to consult his owninclinations, he would not have been present at this entertainment;but the Cecils, who had driven in from the country to attend it,invited themselves to luncheon with him, and then carried him away bymain force, alleging that it would do him good to see more of hisneighbors. As a matter of fact, however, he was not benefited in thisparticular way, for the cathedral dignitaries seldom showed themselvesat the barracks, and he searched the mess-room and ante-room in vainfor any familiar face. He remained beside the Cecils, and presentlyaccompanied them to the lawn in front of the building, where someyounger members of the assemblage were playing tennis. Then it wasthat he became aware of Mrs. Harrington, attended by young Annesley,and was able to scrutinize her a little more nearly than he had doneon the cricket-ground. She was a tall, striking-looking woman, not inher first youth. No doubt she was rather over-dressed, and theProfessor noticed that she was more anxious to appear at her ease thansuccessful in doing so. He noticed, besides, that the other ladiesfought shy of her, and that his friend Bob, who stood by her side,looked anything but happy.

  After a time the couple drew near to the spot where the Cecil familywere seated, and from the expression of despair visible upon the youngman's face, and the mixture of triumph and defiance exhibited by thelady, it was easy to guess what was going to happen next. TheProfessor, from living so much alone, had got out of the habit ofrepressing his emotions; and when he realized that this daring womanhad demanded an introduction to Mrs. Cecil, he gave vent to a loud,abrupt chuckle, which caused everybody to turn round and look at himand overwhelm him with consequent confusion. Thus he missed the actualformality which had moved him to mirth by anticipation; but herecovered himself in time to see that it had taken place, that Mr. andMiss Cecil were looking grave and annoyed, and that Mrs. Cecil hadassumed that stony demeanor with which she was wont to cow thepresumptuous.

  Mrs. Cecil was not a lady with whom it was advisable to takeliberties. A great liberty had been taken with her now, and, whileholding in reserve the punishment of the chief offender, she madethings very uncomfortable for his accomplice. Having bowed to Mrs.Harrington, she became absorbed in some distant object of interest,and failed to hear the bland remarks addressed to her by her newacquaintance. A deep silence had fallen upon the surrounding group.Mrs. Cecil was still seated; the other lady was standing in front ofher chair, and the Professor, looking on from the background, thoughtto himself that, if he were in Mrs. Harrington's shoes, he would runaway.

  But it was Bob Annesley, and not Mrs. Harrington, who adopted thatpusillanimous course. That intrepid woman remained firm, and, with adetermined smile upon her pale face, forced Mrs. Cecil to speak toher.

  "I asked Mr. Annesley to introduce me to you," she was saying,"because I think we ought to know each other, being both of us sointimate with him."

  "Oh, I didn't know," replied Mrs. Cecil coldly. Perhaps she would haveliked to say that she was not so very intimate with Mr. Annesley; butwhen one has a daughter whom one is naturally anxious to marry well,one is apt to be debarred from indiscriminate retorts. After a pause,she asked, without removing her eyes from the distant view, "Are youstaying any time at Lichbury, Mrs.--er--?"

  "Harrington," replied the other. "Well, I don't quite know. It willdepend a good deal upon the regiment. I always like to be where the27th are."

  "_Really!_" exclaimed Mrs. Cecil; and the amount of astonishment,contempt, and disgust which she managed to condense into that one wordwas quite an achievement in its way.

  "Oh, yes," Mrs. Harrington went on cheerfully, "I follow the drum. Myobject is to get as much fun out of life as possible, and I don't knowany better way of doing that than living in a garrison town."

  "Violet," said Mrs. Cecil, "I think I see some vacant places on theother side of the lawn. We will go over and sit there." And so saying,she arose and swept majestically away, leaving Mrs. Harringtonsurrounded by a number of silent persons who appeared anxious to stareher out of countenance while at the same time resolutely ignoring her.

  The poor woman's position was really a cruel one, and signs that shefelt it to be so were not wanting. She flushed for a moment, thenturned pale again, and stood, not unlike a hunted animal, while thosemerciless ladies enjoyed her discomfiture. The Professor, who knewwhat agony he himself would have suffered under such treatment, couldnot help being very sorry for her. So sincere was his compassion, andso strongly did he disapprove of the base practice of hitting thosewho are down, that he was moved at last to do an unusually bold thing.He advanced abruptly to the side of the unfortunate pariah, upsettinga chair on his passage, and said in a nervous, hesitating way, "What abeautiful afternoon, is it not?"

  Mrs. Harrington turned a pair of astonished and rather angry eyes uponhim. Most likely, at the first moment, she took this queer-lookingcleric for an emissary of the enemy; but a glance at his face musthave reassured her, for a quick change of expression came over herown, and the Professor was rewarded by a singularly pleasant smile,and a word or two spoken without any of that harshness of intonationwhich had been noticeable in Mrs. Harrington's voice a few minutesbefore. Having thus entered his little protest against bullying, hewould gladly have retired from so conspicuous a position, but he was aman who was wholly unable to extricate himself from any position,conspicuous or other, without help, and so he went on conversing withMrs. Harrington for a matter of five minutes, at the end of which timehe mentally qualified her as a very intelligent and agreeable person."I wonder," thought he, "why she chose to speak in such anobjectionable manner just now." And then, with his unlucky habit ofthinking aloud, he said musingly, "I suppose she wanted to shock Mrs.Cecil. Well, I can't blame her."

  Mrs. Harrington laughed. "You are quite right," she observed; "thatwas what I wanted to do. But you ought to blame me, for it was not atall worth while to shock Mrs. Cecil, and I brought her rudeness uponmyself."

  The Professor, in great distress, began to stammer out an apology,which he was not permitted to finish. "There is no need to beg mypardon," Mrs. Harrington interrupted: "you only said what you thought,and it is not often that one has the good fortune to hear any one dothat. I wish you would go on. I should like to hear what you think ofme, for instance--or rather no; that would not be very interesting. Ishould prefer hearing what you think of Mrs. Cecil."

  "The Cecils are old friends of mine," said the Professor, with aslight accent of reproof.

  "Then you need not hesitate to say what you think of them, for onedoes not, as a rule, think badly of one's friends. I am interested inthem on Mr. Annesley's account. He is a great deal at their house, ishe not?"

  "Yes, I believe so," answered the Professor, stroking his chinpensively. A strong desire to come to the point
prompted him to add,with some audacity, "People say that he is likely to become engaged toMiss Cecil, but that may be only an idle report."

  Mrs. Harrington's large black eyes had a considerable store of latentfire in them. It flashed out now upon her companion with a suddennesswhich made him start; but in an instant she had recovered hercomposure. "It is an idle report," she said quietly. "There is notruth in it."

  "Indeed? Is it not a little difficult to speak with certainty uponsuch points?"

  Mrs. Harrington made no verbal reply, but stepping slightly aside, soas to see and be seen by a group of which Miss Cecil was one, and BobAnnesley another, she beckoned to the young man, who responded by analmost imperceptible shake of the head. Thereupon she repeated hersignal more peremptorily, and he, with obvious reluctance, obeyed it.

  "I want you to see me home," she said as soon as he was withinspeaking distance.

  "Oh, all right," answered Annesley; "but couldn't you wait a littlebit?"

  "No," returned Mrs. Harrington; "I want to go now. I am tired."

  Then, with a gracious bow to her late interlocutor, she moved away,Bob Annesley walking somewhat shamefacedly by her side.

  It was thus that the Professor was made aware that Mrs. Harrington wasindeed dangerous, though not precisely in the manner which he hadventured to disclaim on her behalf.

  III.

  Bob Annesley was one of those deservedly popular persons who can beunderstood at once by the least experienced students of character.Good nature was his dominant quality, and when you had said that hewas good-natured, you had said very nearly all that there was to besaid about him. The Professor, who had not lived for so many years atOxford without discovering what is the ordinary destiny of young menthus gifted or afflicted, had no difficulty in casting Bob'shoroscope. "That woman has got a hold upon the poor boy, don't yousee?" said he, addressing himself to the busts in his library. "He wasin love with her once, and he is tired of her now; but he will neverhave the courage to tell her so. The question, therefore, is, how arehis friends to get him out of her clutches?"

  But the busts continued to stare straight before them, without makingany reply, and the Professor, not being fertile in expedients, couldthink of no better course of treatment than renewed doses of MissCecil and lawn-tennis. He was prepared, if driven to extremities, tomake a direct appeal to Mrs. Harrington, for he conceived that hernature had a side which might be appealed to with success; but heshrank from employing so drastic a remedy until all others should haveproved unavailing, and he lost no time in endeavoring to arrangeanother of those meetings which had already produced, or had seemed toproduce, a hopeful result.

  In this well-meant attempt he was foiled by the recalcitration of boththe parties concerned. Mrs. Cecil, desirous though she might be to seeher daughter make an unexceptionable match, was not likely to fallinto the error of openly pursuing her quarry, and the young ladyherself was probably offended by what had taken place at the barracks.However this may be, the Cecils regretted their inability to availthemselves of Canon Stanwick's repeated invitations; while Bob, if hisown account was to be believed, was at this time perpetually on duty.Thus several weeks elapsed during which it was impossible to reportprogress to Mrs. Annesley, who wrote impatiently, complaining that herson never told her anything, and entreating that she might not be keptneedlessly in the dark. Had it not been for these letters, theProfessor, whose mind, after all, was occupied with other matters thanmatchmaking, might have washed his hands of the whole business; but hewas reminded by them that he had promised to do his best, and so, whenat length he chanced to encounter Mrs. and Miss Cecil and Bob Annesleyin the same room, he profited by the opportunity, and engaged thewhole three of them to lunch with him before they had time to makeexcuse.

  Every one who has ever tried to set the affairs of his neighborsstraight for them must be aware that those who pursue this course laythemselves open not only to ingratitude, but to positive contumely.When, on the day appointed, the Cecils duly made their appearance, andwhen at the last moment a card was brought from Bob Annesley, on whichwas scribbled, "Very sorry, can't possibly come to luncheon, but willturn up for tennis afterwards"--when, I say, this untoward incidentoccurred, the Professor was at once made to feel how blameworthy hadbeen his conduct. Mrs. Cecil was so cross and snappish that a lesssubmissive man would have turned upon her in the first five minutes;and even Violet, whose disposition was naturally sweet, was silent andpreoccupied, and made no effort to soften down her mother's uncivilspeeches. And what was still worse was that, after luncheon was over,and Captain and Mrs. Green had arrived with their racquets in theirhands, that wretched Bob failed to redeem his promise. They waited anhour for him in vain, and then, as it was evident that no set could bemade up, the Cecils went away in a huff, while the Professor, quiteupset, betook himself to the cathedral, where, being in residence, hehad to read the evening lessons, and where in his agitation he madeSt. Paul say, "Bobs, love your wives," before he could stop himself.

  Passing through the cloisters after the conclusion of the service, hesaw dimly a male and a female figure walking before him, and his earscaught the sound of what appeared to be an altercation. By the timethat he had got his glasses settled upon his nose, and had approacheda little nearer to the disputants, they wheeled round and revealedthemselves as no other than Bob and Mrs. Harrington. Both of themstarted, and Mrs. Harrington, with a bow, turned abruptly and walkedaway. Bob, looking rather sheepish, stood his ground and began tomumble some apology for having broken his engagement, but theProfessor cut him short.

  "Annesley," said he, "will you come into my house for a few minutes? Iwish to speak to you."

  The Professor, albeit of a mild temper, had been a don, and knew howto assume an aspect of sternness when necessary. Bob Annesley, on theother hand, was both by nature and training prone towards obedience.Presently, therefore, the two men were closeted in the Professor'sstudy, where the following dialogue ensued.

  "I want to know what you mean by this, Annesley?"

  "Mean by what?"

  "Why, by making love to two women at the same time. Don't tell me youhaven't made love to them: I have seen you. And don't tell me to mindmy own business either, because a great deal of this--this triflinghas gone on in my garden, and I feel myself in a measure responsiblefor the consequences. I cannot," continued the Professor, warming withhis subject, "allow the hearts of young ladies to be broken withinsight of my library windows; and I am bound to tell you, Annesley,that I consider your conduct highly discreditable."

  Bob shook his head sorrowfully, but did not offer to defend himself,so the Professor had to go on scolding.

  "Were I you, I should be ashamed of such unmanly vacillation. It isvery plain that you either do not know your own mind, or that, knowingit, you are afraid to declare it. You will not, I suppose, deny thatyou have entangled yourself with one lady while you wish to marry theother."

  No answer.

  "Tell me, at least, one thing: are you, or are you not, in love withMiss Cecil?"

  "Oh, come--I say--hang it, you know!" exclaimed Bob; but theProfessor, paying no heed to this incoherent remonstrance, repeatedhis question in a determined manner.

  "Very well, then--_yes!_" called out the young man despairingly. "I amin love with her--and I can't marry her. Now I hope you're satisfied."

  The Professor said, "Far from it." On the contrary, that barestatement was eminently unsatisfactory, and required explanation. Hecould well understand that there might be obstacles in the way of amarriage which appeared to be desirable and desired, but let us hearwhat those obstacles were, and try what could be done towards removingthem.

  Bob, however, was obdurate, declaring that he couldn't and wouldn'tsay another word about the matter, except that the obstacles referredto were irremovable. He was the most unfortunate beggar that everstepped, but talking about it wouldn't make it any better. "And Idon't think you have the least right to blow me up like this," headded
, as he rose and made for the door. "You asked me to come hereand meet her, and I came. Flesh and blood couldn't resist that. I'vekept away for the last three weeks though, as you know, and I shallkeep away in future. I dare say you have meant kindly, but youshouldn't be in such a deuce of a hurry to jump to conclusions."

  With that he made good his retreat, while the Professor, left tohimself, looked up at Marcus Aurelius and murmured sadly, "It doesn'tdo, you see. The human animal in his lower stages of development mustbe guided by patience and kindness, and by these means alone."

  IV.

  Whether in Bob Annesley's case kindness would have proved moreeffectual than harshness was a question which the Professor was unableto bring to the test of experience; for a few days after the interviewjust described Mrs. and Miss Cecil left home, and did not return untillate in the autumn.

  During their absence, of which Mrs. Annesley was duly apprised, theProfessor had a respite. He received no more importunate letters, hesaw little of the misguided young lancer, and he employed himselfagreeably in writing that brilliant chapter upon Pope Boniface VIII.and the bull _Ausculta, fili_, which has since been so justly praisedby the critics. Absorbed in these congenial studies, and feeling that,for the time being, it was vastly more important to arrive at thetruth with regard to the instructions given by Philippe le Bel toNogaret than to unravel any contemporary mystery, the good man almostforgot Mrs. Harrington's existence, and it was not until the month ofOctober, when Captain Green, whom he chanced to meet one day, informedhim that she had left Lichbury for some destination unknown, that hisinterest in her revived, and he began to wonder whether anything couldhave caused her to relinquish her prey.

  Shortly afterwards he caught sight of Bob Annesley, clanking down theHigh Street in full war-paint and feathers, and crossed the road onpurpose to say, "So Mrs. Harrington has gone away, I hear."

  "Yes," answered the young man gloomily; "but she is coming back,again."

  The Professor passed on. He foresaw that there was going to betrouble, but he did not want to meet it halfway. "Time enough for thatwhen the Cecils come home," thought he as he regained his quietdwelling, and dived once more into the dark recesses of the thirteenthcentury.

  The Cecils came home early in November; but Bob and Violet met no morein the Precincts, the excuse of lawn-tennis being, indeed, no longeravailable at that season. That they met elsewhere the Professor hadocular proof, for he saw them several times riding together; moreover,the Dean's wife informed him that everybody said it was to be anengagement. The Professor held his peace, remembering one person whohad said with some confidence that it would never be anything of thesort; and when that person reappeared suddenly upon the scene, itseemed clear that the tug of war was at hand. The first intimation ofcoming unpleasantness which reached the Professor took the form of avisit from Mr. Cecil, who said he wished to have his old friend'scandid opinion about young Annesley.

  "He has been a good deal up at my place of late; and though of courseone is very glad to see him, and all that, one would like to know alittle more of him. Mrs. Cecil will have it that he is ambitious ofbecoming our son-in-law. Well, that may or may not be so, and I don'tthink it necessary to repeat to her all that I hear in the town abouthim and Mrs. Harrington; but I may confess to you, Stanwick, that Ifeel uneasy on Violet's account. What do you think I ought to do?"

  "Ask him his intentions," answered the Professor promptly.

  "Oh, my dear fellow, I can't possibly do that. I would as soon bringan action for breach of promise against a man as ask him hisintentions."

  "Yet you want to know them, I suppose?"

  "That is quite another thing. One wants to know a great deal that onecan't ask about. I want to know who this Mrs. Harrington is, forinstance, and what _her_ intentions are."

  "Well," said the Professor, with a sigh, "I dare say I might be ableto help you there. At all events, I'll try."

  He perceived that the time had come when he must have recourse to thatdirect appeal to the harpy which he had contemplated some monthsbefore. The necessity was grievous to him; but he faced it like thecourageous old gentleman that he was, and having found out Mrs.Harrington's address from the stationer in the market-place, set outto call upon her that same afternoon.

  Mrs. Harrington occupied lodgings on the first floor of a smallhouse near the cavalry barracks. The dreary shabbiness of herlittle drawing-room was accentuated by some of those attempts atdecoration with which a woman of scanty means and no taste commonlysurrounds herself. The faded curtains were drawn back through loops ofequally faded ribbon; the walls were adorned with a few staringchromo-lithographs; the mantelpiece and the rickety table had bordersof blue satin and coffee-colored lace; the back of the piano wasswathed in spotted muslin over blue calico, like a toilet-table, andupon it stood a leather screen for photographs, from which variousheavily moustached warriors, in and out of uniform, gazed forthvacantly.

  These and other details were lost upon the Professor, who only wishedto say his say and be gone. He had rehearsed the probable course ofthe interview beforehand, and was ready with a remark which should atonce render the object of his errand unmistakable; but he had omittedto make allowance for the unforeseen, and therefore he was completelythrown out on discovering two long-legged officers seated beside Mrs.Harrington's tea-table.

  It is safe to conclude that that lady was a good deal astonished whenCanon Stanwick was announced, but she rose to the level of theoccasion and introduced him immediately to her other visitors. "CanonStanwick, Captain White--Mr. Brown. And now let me give you all sometea."

  The Professor would have liked to say that he would call again someother time, but felt that he had not the requisite effrontery; so hesat down, took a cup of tea, and wished for the end. He was veryawkward and confused, feeling sure that the two officers must belaughing at him; but in this he was mistaken. Those gentlemen, if notremarkable for intellect, had perfectly good manners, and would waituntil they reached the barrack square before permitting themselves toburst into that hilarity which the notion of Polly Harrington closetedwith a parson must naturally provoke. In the meantime, they did not domuch towards lightening the labor of keeping up conversation. Thisduty fell chiefly upon Mrs. Harrington, who acquitted herself of it ascreditably as any one could have done, and who established a claimupon the Professor's gratitude by talking with as much propriety as ifshe had been herself a canoness. His preconceived idea was thatpropriety of language was about the last thing that could be expectedfrom such ladies as Mrs. Harrington when, so to speak, in theregimental circle. Nevertheless, he did not find himself able tosecond her efforts towards promoting a general feeling of cordialityand the next quarter of an hour passed away very slowly. At length itflashed across Captain White that the old gentleman meant to sit himout, and as soon as he had made this brilliant discovery he rose withgreat deliberation, pulled down his waistcoat, pulled up his collar,and said he was sorry that he must be going now. Thereupon Mr. Brownwent through precisely the same performance, and intimated a similarregret. Mrs. Harrington did not offer to detain them. She accompaniedthem to the door, talking as she went, kept them for a minute or twoon the threshold while she arranged to ride with them to the meet onthe following day, and then returned smiling, to hear what CanonStanwick might have to say for himself.

  Now she knew as well as anybody to what she owed the honor of theProfessor's visit; but she did not see why she should make his pathsmooth for him. Therefore she smiled and held her tongue, while he,after some introductory commonplaces, managed to drag Bob Annesley'sname, without much rhyme or reason, into the current of his remarks.

  "A promising young fellow," he said; "but, like other young fellows,he gives his friends some anxiety at times. His mother, poor thing, isfeeling very uneasy about him just now."

  "Mothers," observed Mrs. Harrington, "generally do feel uneasy abouttheir sons. That is because they have such a difficulty in realizingthat their sons may be old enoug
h to take care of themselves."

  "But they can't take care of themselves," rejoined the Professoreagerly. "At least, _he_ can't take care of himself. His position, asno doubt you are aware, differs in some respects from that of hisbrother officers, and I think that if you or I were in his mother'splace, we should wish, as she does, that he should leave the army,live upon his property, and--and make a suitable marriage."

  "Yes," said Mrs. Harrington: "and why is his mother uneasy?--becausehe won't leave the army, or because he won't make a suitablemarriage?"

  "Well, for both reasons, I believe. I think I mentioned to you sometime ago that there was a talk of his marrying Violet Cecil, and Ihave since ascertained that his own feelings incline him towards amatch which would give great satisfaction to all those who areinterested in him; but unfortunately it appears that he is hampered bysome previous entanglement with--with----"

  "With an unsuitable person?" suggested Mrs. Harrington, still smiling.

  The Professor paused. He wanted to enlist Mrs. Harrington'ssympathies, and to arouse the generosity which he was convinced thatshe possessed. Under the circumstances, was it politic to begin bytelling her that she was unsuitable? However, he reflected verysensibly that there would be no getting on at all unless that muchwere either said or implied; and he felt, besides, that he was alreadyin so uncomfortable a predicament that nothing could very well make itworse. This gave him courage to reply,--

  "I fear we must pronounce her so. All other considerations apart, thefact that he no longer wishes to make her his wife should beconclusive. He might feel--and I don't say that he ought not tofeel--bound in honor to her; but it seems to me that she is equallybound in honor to release him from his engagement."

  "Oh, you think she is bound to release him?"

  "I do," answered the Professor firmly. "Yes; I may say without anyhesitation that that is what I think."

  "I am not quite sure that I agree with you," said Mrs. Harrington. "Ican't, of course, form any guess as to who the person to whom youallude may be; but let us put an entirely imaginary case, and see howit looks from the lady's point of view. Because, you know, evenunsuitable women have their point of view, and some of them might bedisposed to think their happiness almost as important as Mrs.Annesley's. Let us take the case of a woman with whom life hasgone very hardly--a woman who was married young to a husband whoill-treated her, deserted her, and left her at his death with a merepittance to live upon. Well, this imaginary woman is not very wise,let us say, although she has no great harm in her. She is fond ofamusement, she likes riding, she likes dancing, and we won't disguisethat she likes flirting too. She has no near relations; so, instead oftaking lodgings in a suburb of London, or hiring a cottage in thedepths of the country, as no doubt she ought to do, she attachesherself to a cavalry regiment in which she has friends, and she ridesher friends' horses and dances at their balls, and has great fun for atime. Perhaps it serves her right that this way of going on causes herto be cut by all the ladies, wherever she betakes herself; perhaps shedoesn't care a straw for that at first, and perhaps she cares a greatdeal as she grows older. Perhaps she sees no way of escape from a kindof existence which she has learnt to hate, and perhaps that serves herright again. What do you think, Canon Stanwick?"

  The Professor's honesty compelled him to reply, "I should not blameher for seizing any opportunity of escape from it that offered."

  "Yet most people would blame her; she would have to make up her mindto that. We are supposing, you know, that Mr. Annesley is the way ofescape that offers itself, and when this forlorn woman seizes himecstatically she must expect his friends and relations to tear theirhair and call her bad names. I dare say that would trouble her verylittle. After knocking about the world for so many years, she wouldn'tbe over and above sensitive, and she would know perfectly well that,when once she was married and had plenty of money, everybody,including her husband's relations, would be civil enough to her. Butnow, just as she is exulting in the prospect of peace and plenty, loand behold! the miserable young man goes and falls in love withsomebody else. What is she to do? You, in an off-hand sort of way,answer, 'Oh, let him go free, of course;' but I, on the side of thepoor disappointed woman, venture to say that she should be guided bycircumstances. Suppose she knew this good-natured Bob Annesley to be aman who couldn't break his heart about anything or anybody if he triedever so hard? Suppose she knew that she was quite as well able to makehim happy as Miss Cecil? Mightn't she in that case be justified inthinking a little bit about her own interests, and holding him to hispromise?"

  "I can't answer positively," said the Professor, sighing."Justification must depend entirely upon the standard by which wejudge. All I know is, that if such a woman as you describe resolved tosacrifice her worldly prospects she would err upon the safe side."

  "Such a woman as I describe would probably differ from you there,"observed Mrs. Harrington.

  "No!" exclaimed the Professor suddenly, bringing his stick down uponthe floor with an emphatic thump. "You may say that, but I don'tbelieve it. I believe her to be a good-hearted and high-minded woman,in spite of all that she may have gone through. I believe that she hasa conscience, and I believe that she will end by obeying it, no matterat what cost."

  "You must know a great deal about her," said Mrs. Harrington, raisingher eyebrows. "Are you not forgetting that she is a purely imaginaryperson?"

  The Professor was about to reply, but what he was going to say willnever be known, for at this inopportune juncture the door opened, andwho should walk in but Bob Annesley himself! The three persons thusunexpectedly confronted with one another all lost their presence ofmind a little, and the Professor could not afterwards have given anycoherent account of what happened next, or of how long an intervalelapsed before he found himself in the street again; but as he wendedhis way homewards, he astonished more than one passer-by by callingout in a loud, distinct voice, "She'll let him go! mark my words, sir,she'll let him go!" And when he had reached the privacy of his ownstudy, he added confidentially, "And between ourselves, I'm not by anymeans sure that she isn't worth a dozen of the other."

  V.

  It is one thing to make a sudden and enthusiastic profession offaith in a prodigy, and it is quite another to reiterate thatprofession in cold blood the next morning. The Professor did not findhimself able to accomplish the latter feat. Calmer reflection showedhim that he had given Mrs. Harrington credit for the most extremedisinterestedness, not because of any single thing that she had saidor done, but simply from an instinctive feeling that her nature wasnobler than it appeared to be upon the surface. Now instinctivefeelings do not ordinarily commend themselves as a sound foundationfor faith or sober philosophers on the shady side of fifty; and theProfessor, while maintaining the high opinion which he had formed ofthe harpy, wished that he had not been interrupted just when he wasupon the point of asking her in plain terms whether she intended tomarry Bob Annesley or not. It is possible that he might have calledagain and repaired the omission, had he not at this time found itnecessary to consult certain authorities at the British Museum; andwhen once he was in town a variety of accidents detained him there.After that he had to go down to Oxford, so that, what with one thingand another, it was very nearly a month before he was in Lichburyagain.

  Almost the first person whom he saw after his return was Bob Annesley,and Bob's round face wore an air of such profound dejection that evena short-sighted and absent-minded man could not help noticing it.

  "All well here, I hope?" said the Professor interrogatively. "Have youseen our friends the Cecils lately?"

  Bob shook his head. "Never go there now." He added, with something ofan effort, "I shall never go there any more; I shall be out of thisbefore long. Sent in my papers last week."

  "What!" exclaimed the Professor, rather startled. And then, as theywere near his door, "Come in," he said, "and tell me all about it."

  The young man obeyed listlessly. "You may as well be told all
about itnow," he remarked; "everybody will have to know soon."

  The Professor was greatly perturbed, feeling that he had been somehowto blame in absenting himself at a critical time. He did not ask forfurther explanations, but having preceded his young friend into thelibrary, began at once: "This must not be allowed to go on, Annesley.I am sincerely sorry for Mrs. Harrington, but I can't think it rightthat two people should be made miserable in order that she may beprovided with a large income. I am disappointed in her, I confess. Ihad hoped--but no matter. Since she won't break with you, you mustbreak with her; and possibly some sort of compensation might beoffered in a delicate manner----"

  "I can't break with her," interrupted Bob quietly. "We were marriedthree weeks ago."

  The Professor's consternation was too great to be expressed in anyvehement fashion. He could only murmur under his breath, "Dear, dear!what a sad pity!"

  "There was no help for it," said Bob. "I promised her ages ago that Iwould marry her if her husband died, and I couldn't go back from myword when the time came."

  "Her husband!" ejaculated the Professor. "This is worse than Ithought. Do I understand you that she has had a husband alive all thistime?"

  "Well, he died a month or two ago--when she was away in the summer,you know. He had behaved awfully badly to her--deserted her soon afterthey were married. It was no fault of hers."

  "It was certainly a fault of hers to receive another man's addresseswhile she was still a married woman," said the Professor severely.

  "Oh, well, if you like to call it so; but I suppose I was as muchin the wrong as she was. Anyhow, I was bound to her. I told herabout--about Violet, you know, but she didn't seem to think that mademuch difference. So, you see, there was no getting out of it,"concluded Bob simply.

  "There is no getting out of it now," remarked the Professor, with arueful face; "and I don't think you have improved matters by gettingmarried in this hole-and-corner way. What was your object in doingthat?"

  "She thought it would be better," answered the young manindifferently; "and, as far as that goes, I agreed with her. It hassaved us a good deal of bother with my people; besides which, I didn'tcare to let all the fellows in the regiment hear about it before Ileft."

  The Professor groaned. He saw that the only course open to him, or toany of Bob's friends, was to make the best of a bad business; but forthe moment he could think of nothing except what a very bad businessit was, and after promising to keep the secret until it should be asecret no longer, he allowed the young man to depart without offeringhim a word of consolation. Why he should have felt moved, some hourslater, to walk over to the lodgings which were still occupied by thebride, he would have been puzzled to explain. She could not undo whatshe had done, nor was there anything to be gained by upbraiding her.Perhaps it was rather a strong feeling of curiosity than anything elsethat led him to her door.

  Having learnt that she was at home and alone, he followed the servantupstairs, and was presently in the shabby little drawing-room so wellknown to the officers of the 27th. Mrs. Harrington--to call her by thename which she had not yet formally resigned--rose from the chair inwhich she had been sitting by the fireside, and turned a curiouslyaltered countenance towards her visitor. The Professor was at oncestruck by her extreme pallor, and by her air of weary despondency. Tolook at her, one would have thought that she had just sustained acrushing defeat, instead of having gained a victory.

  "You have seen Bob!" she began.

  "Ah!" sighed the Professor, speaking out his thoughts withoutceremony, "I fear you have made a terrible mistake, both of you."

  "Yes," she answered, and said no more, though he waited some time forher to explain herself.

  "What made you do it?" he exclaimed at length. "You must have knownthat you were laying up an endless store of wretchedness for yourhusband and yourself; and I can hardly believe that you wereinfluenced only by the motives that you mentioned when I was herelast."

  "There was one motive which I didn't mention," said Mrs. Harrington."You hardly know enough about me to be amused by it; but I have nodoubt that the regiment would consider it an exquisite joke if I wereto assert that I had married Bob Annesley because I loved him. And yetit isn't very odd that I should love him. He was crazily in love withme once; he was kind to me when no one else was kind; he treated melike a lady; while other men, who by way of being my friends, wereinsulting me, more or less directly, every day. Oh, I know what youare saying to yourself. You are saying that if I had really cared forhim at all, I should not have married him against his will. But Ithought I might reckon without his will--he has so little of it. Thathas always been Bob's defect; and I don't mind saying so, because itis the only defect that I have ever discovered in him. I believed thatI could win him back, and that, when once we were married, he wouldforget his fancy for Miss Cecil, as he has forgotten other fanciesbefore. Now that it is too late, I have found out that I was wrong. IfI had known three weeks ago as much as I know now, I would have died athousand times rather than have married him. He hates me, and I amrightly punished for my blindness and obstinacy."

  She had spoken quietly at first, then with a good deal of excitement;but now her voice dropped to a whisper as she crouched down over thefire, muttering, "Yes, I am punished--I am punished!"

  The Professor frowned. He disliked melodrama, and had no great beliefin a repentance which could be evidenced only by words. "Perhaps moneyand lands may afford you some consolation," he observed rathercruelly.

  Mrs. Harrington did not notice the sneer. "Why did you go away andleave me alone with my temptation?" she cried suddenly. "You mighthave prevented this."

  "I cannot flatter myself," answered the Professor coldly, "that myinfluence with you would have been sufficiently strong for that."

  "It was stronger than you think. I liked you; you had been kind to me,and I was ready to listen to you. I have not forgotten how you stoodby me that day when Mrs. Cecil turned her back upon me; women in myposition don't forget such things. But you went away just when I mostneeded a friend, and so I allowed myself to be deceived by my vainhopes."

  "If any words of mine could have caused you to think twice before youtook this irrevocable step," returned the Professor, "I can onlyregret most sincerely that business should have called me away at soimportant a moment; but there is little use in discussing what mighthave been. The only thing for you and your husband to do now isfrankly to accept a situation from which you cannot escape."

  "Unless by means of an over-dose of chloral," suggested Mrs.Harrington, with a faint smile.

  The Professor got up. "Mrs. Harrington," said he, "you may yet proveyourself an excellent wife and make your husband happy; but you canhardly expect to do this easily or immediately. And if I were you, Iwould not begin by making speeches which are silly if they areinsincere, and wicked if they are not."

  Thereupon he left the room without further leave-taking, while she,still bending over the fire, appeared unconscious alike of his rebukeand of his exit. The Professor, as he walked home, felt that he hadbeen very severe, yet not unwarrantably so. "She is a foolish,theatrical woman," he said to himself; "and I strongly suspect thatall that exaggerated penitence was assumed for a purpose. Of courseher chief object now will be to conciliate her mother-in-law, and sheprobably imagines that my report of her may carry some weight in thatquarter. But she makes a mistake, because I shan't report anythingabout her--good, bad, or indifferent. No more meddling with otherpeople's business for me!"

  VI.

  The Professor would undoubtedly have felt confirmed in the harshjudgment which he had passed upon Bob Annesley's wife if he could haveseen her at the meet on the following morning. Mrs. Harrington was afinished horsewoman, and never looked to so great advantage as in thesaddle. Upon the present occasion she rode a fidgety chestnut mare,the property of Captain White, and the ease with which she managed herrather troublesome mount won her a great deal of admiration from thelocal members of the hunt. As
for the officers of the 27th, they weretoo well accustomed to Polly Harrington's dexterity to pay her anycompliments on that score; but they clustered round her as usual, andsmiled amiably at her smart sayings, and told her that she was in rareform that morning. Bob hovered in the background, looking woebegone.

  The neighborhood of Lichbury does not bear a very high character amonghunting men, blank days being of by no means rare occurrencethereabouts, but there is always a fox at Lingham Gorse, and it was atLingham Gorse that a fox was found on the particular morning withwhich we are concerned. The whole crowd got away together, and kepttogether for the first five minutes, going at racing speed across theshort turf of the downs at the foot of which Lichbury stands. On thisthe northern side, the gradual slopes of these hills form as good andsafe galloping ground as any one could wish for; but their southernface is very different, falling away in precipitous chalk quarries andsharp declivities unwelcome to timid riders, and it was after crossingthe backbone of the ridge that the field began to scatter right andleft, only a few adventurous spirits riding straight ahead andtrusting in Providence.

  Among these was Mrs. Harrington. She was followed by Annesley andCaptain White, the latter of whom was watching her headlong progress alittle anxiously, and wishing, perhaps, that his chestnut mare weresafe in her stable. It was not, however, any fear on the mare'saccount that caused him to rein in suddenly and ejaculate "Good God!"About a furlong ahead, a row of posts and rails had come into view,immediately beyond which--as every one who knew the country was wellaware--was a chalk cliff some two hundred feet in depth. It seemedincredible that any human being, whether familiar with the country ornot, should ride at such a fence, for there was nothing but skyvisible upon the other side of it; but Mrs. Harrington was makingstraight for it now, and it was the discovery that she was doing sothat called forth Captain White's exclamation. He raised his hand tohis mouth and sent a warning shout after her, and Bob, who saw thedanger at the same moment, shouted too; but Mrs. Harrington did notappear to hear either of them, and, indeed, it was already too latefor warnings to be of any avail. For an instant horse and rider rosedark against the gray sky, then vanished; and to those who waitedthere, helpless and horror-struck, it seemed as if some minuteselapsed before the dull crash came which told them that poor PollyHarrington had taken her last leap.

  "Awful thing!--most shocking sight I ever saw in my life!" CaptainWhite said, describing the catastrophe, some months afterwards, to anold brother officer. "But she must have been killed like a flash oflightning--there's some comfort in that. And, though I wouldn't say soto any one else, I can't help thinking that the poor woman's death wasabout the best thing that could have happened. Fancy her having gotBob Annesley to marry her on the sly! Only shows what fools fellowsare, eh? You've heard that he's engaged to that pretty Miss Cecil now,haven't you? It isn't given out yet, of course, and I suppose they'llhave to let a year go by before they announce it formally; buteverybody knows about it down in these parts."

  Probably many less plain-spoken persons than Captain White agreed withhim in thinking the unfortunate harpy's death the best thing thatcould have happened; but it may be hoped that Bob Annesley was notconsciously among the number. The suddenness and the ghastly nature ofthe calamity gave him a shock from which his elastic spirits took along time to recover; but he began to be more cheerful again aftermeeting Canon Stanwick, and putting into words a dread which he hadnot liked to mention to other friends.

  "I say," he asked hesitatingly, and keeping his eyes upon the ground,"do you believe--do you believe that--_she did it on purpose?_"

  The Professor evaded the question so cleverly that his interrogatorquite imagined that he had answered it.

  "I do not think," he said gravely, "that we have any right whatever tocast such an aspersion as that upon her memory."