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BLACK SHEEP.% Bobcl.BYEDMUND YATES,AUTHOROF "KISSING THE ROD," " THE FORLORN HOPE," ETO.*' Loveis strong as death;jealousyis cruel asthegrave."IN THREE VOLUMES.YOL. III.LONDON:TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18 CATHERINE ST. STRAND.1867.[Tlie right of translationand reproductionis reserved']
LONDON:ROBSON ANDSON, GREATNORTHERN PRINTINGWORK..,PANCRAS ROAD,N.W.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.CHAP.PACKi. Recognition iii. A Fiest Appeal 26in. Dueingthe Lull 51iv. <strong>The</strong> Seveeingof the Hair.... 75v. Movingon 96vi. PaulAVaed 117vii. AnotheeRecognition136via <strong>The</strong> Falling of the Swoed . . . .163ix. " Ceuelas the Geave" 186x. "Infoemation eeceived'' . . . .213xi. At the Tidal Teain24Sxn. " Steong as Death" 292
BLACK SHEEP.CHAPTEE I.recognition.With the unexpected return of George Dallas toLondon from Amsterdam, an occurrence againstwhich so much precaution hacl been taken, andwhich had appeared to be so very improbable, asense of discouragement and alarm had stoleno\Ter Steyvart Routh. In the coarse bold sense ofthe term, he was a self-reliant man.He had nofaith inanythinghigher or holier than luck anclpluck; hut,in those mundane gods, his faith wassteadfast, ancl hacl been hitherto justified. Onthewhole, for an outcast (as he had been for sometime, that time, too, so important in a man's hfe),he had not done badly; he hacl schemed success-VOL. III.B
2 BLACK SHEEP.fully, and cunning and crime hacl availed him.He yvas a callous man by nature, of a base disposition;ancl,under any circumstances, yvould havebeen cool-headed ancl clogged. In the circumstancesin which lie found himself, his doggedcool-heacledness was peculiarly useful and valuable.He had relied upon them without anydoubt or misgivinguntil the day on which lie wa_jconvinced by George Dallas's appearance on thestage, which he believed him tohave abandonedfor an indefinite time, that he had made amiscalculation.<strong>The</strong>n a slow cold fear began to creepoverhim. Had his luck — what marvellous luckit had been! — turned?Believers in such a creedas his are mostly superstitious fanatics.Hehaclfelt some such dread; then, from the momentwhen Harriet — Harriet, who should have seenthat he had blundered:confound the yvoman, wasshelosing her head? — had told him,inher smoothencouraging way,that this new difficulty shouldbe surmounted as the others had been. Not thesmallest touch of repentance, not the lightestshadow of remorse, fell upon him with the stirringof this fact — only a hard, contemptuous
RECOGNITION.anger against himself ancl Harriet, and a bitter,scornful hatred for the young man who hacl beenhis tool for so long, and might now,in amoment,be turned into the agent of his punishment.When George Dallas left Harriet after the discussionyvhich had terminated in his promise notto move in the matter of the identification ofDeane, Stewart Routh, though he bore himselfwith calmness inhis talk with his wife, had invariablywrithed and raged under the galling senseof the first check he had received.3If he couldhave clone it safely, if the deed would not havebeen more fatal than the conjuncture he feared,he would hayre murdered Dallas readily; and hetold himself so.He had none of the poetry,noneof the drama of crime about him.He was not aman tokill onehuman being because it suited hispurpose to do so, and thentohesitate about killinganother,if a still more pow-erful preventive presenteditself; he was incapable of the mixture ofbase and cruel motives, yvith the kind of sentimentalheroics, wdth yvhich the popular imaginationendows criminals of the educated classes.He had all the cynicism of such individuals, cyni-
RECOGNITION.5is not as fond of me as he was, he is quite asobedient." <strong>The</strong>cynical natureof the man shoyveclitself in the impatient yveariness yvith yvhich hethought of his success, and in the leydty withyvhich he dismissed,or at least tried to dismiss,the subject from his mind. <strong>The</strong>re was, however,one insuperable obstacle to his getting rid of it— his yvife.Harriet had miscalculated her strength; notthe strength of her intellect, but that of hernerves, and the strain had told upon them.Shestill loved her husband yvith a desperate kind oflove; but all its peace, all its strength, all itsfrankness — and even in the ey-il life they hadahvays led it had possessed these qualities — hadvanished.She loved him now yvith all the oldintensity of passion, but with an element of fiercenessadded to it, with a horrid craving ancl fear,sometimes with a sudden repulsion, which she rebelledagainst as physical cowardice, causing herto shrink from him in the darkness, and to shuther ears from the sound of his breathing in hissleep. And then she yvould upbraid herselffiercely, ancl ask herself if she, whohad given him
6 BLACK SHEEP.all her life and being, who had renounced for him— though she denied to herself that such renunciationwas any sacrifice, for did she not love him,as happy women, the caressed of society, do notknow how to love — home, name,kindred,and God,could possibly shrink from him now?She hadnot played any pretty little game of self-deception;she had not persuaded herself that he wasother than he really was; she did not care, sheloved him, just as he was, no better and no worse.She lived for him, she believed in, she desired, sheasked no other life;and if a terrible anguishhadcome into that life latterly, that was her share ofit, her fair share. It yvas not easy,for she was awomanand weak;her nerves would thrill sometimes,andphantoms syvarm about her; sleeplessnesswould wear her down, and a spellbe set uponher lips,under yvhich they strove vainly to curvewith their old smile, and to utter their old yvordsof endearment and protestation;for she scornedand hated herself for such weakness, and couldhave torn her rebellious fleshwith rage, thatsometimes it would creep and turn cold yvhen hetouched her, or even when he only spoke. She
RECOGNITION. 7fought this false and dastardly yveakness, as shecalled it, yvith steady bravery, and yvith the resolveto conquer, yvhich is always half a moralbattle; but she did not conquer it, she onlyquelledit for alittle while. Itreturned on occasions,and thenit tortured and appalled her evenmore than when the foe had been always inposition.All such conflicts of feehng had the effect ofnarrowingthe sphere of her life,of concentratingher whole attention on, and intensifying her absorptionin,her husband. A lassitude yvhich heroyvngoodsense told her yvas dangerousbegan totake possession of her. <strong>The</strong>y were better off now— she did not rightly knoyv how, or hoyv much,for she had gradually lapsed from her previouscustomary active overseering of Routh's affairs,and had been content to take money as he gaveit, and expendit as he desired,skilfully and economically,but yvith an entire indifference, verydifferent from thecheerful,sunnyhousehold thriftinesswhichhacl formerly been so marked a featurein their Bohemian life, and had testified, perhapsmore strongly than any other of its character-
8 BLACK SHEEP.istics, to the utter deadness of the woman's conscience.His comforts wereas scrupulouslylookedafter as ever, and far more liberally proyided for;but the tasteful care for her home, the indescribablesomething which had invested their life withthe charm of a refinement contrasting strangelyyvith its real degradation,had vanished. Harriet'smanner was changed — changed to a quietude unnaturalto her, and peculiarlyunpleasant to Routh,yvhohad had a scientific appreciation of the charmof steady,business-like, calm judgment and decisionbrought to bear on business matters; butdiscarded, at a moment's notice,for sparklinglivelinessand a power of enjoyment which neverpassed the bounds of refinement in its demonstrativeness."Eat, drink, and be merry" hadbeen their rule oflife intime that seemed strangelyold to them both; ancl if the woman alone hadsometimes remarked that the precept had a corollary,she did not caremuch about it. " To-morroyvye die" yvas an assurancewhich carried littleterror to oneabsolutely without belief in afuturelife, and who, in this, hacl realised her sole desire,and lived every hour in the fulness of its realisa-
RECOGNITION. 9tion. Stewart Routh had ney-er had the capacity,either of heart or of intellect, to comprehend hiswife thoroughly;but he had loved her as muchas he was capable of loving any one,in his ownway, and the strength and duration of the feelinghad been much increased by their perfect comradeship.His best aid in business, his shrewd,wise counsellor in difficulty, his good comrade inpleasure, his sole confidant — it must be rememberedthat there yvas no craving for respect on theone side,no possibility of rendering it,no powerof missingit,on the other — and the most cherishedwife of the most respectable and worthy memberof society might have compared her position withthat of Harriet with considerable disadvantage onmany points.Tilings were, however, changed of late, andHarriet had begun to feel, with something of theawfully helpless, feeble foreboding with yvhich thevictims of conscious madness foresee the approachof the foe, that there w-as some power, yvhoseorigin she did not know, whose nature she couldnot discern, underminingher, and conqueringherunawares.Was it bodily illness ? She had ahvays
10 BLACK SHELP.had unbroken health,and was slow to detect anyapproach of disease. She did not think it couldbe that, and conscience, remorse, the presence, thetruth, of the supernatural components of humanlife, she disbelieved in; therefore she refused totake the possibility of their existence and theirinfluence into consideration. She yvas no longeryoung, and she had suffered — yes, she had certainlysuffered a very great deal; no one couldlove as she loved and not suffer, that was all.Time would do everything for her; things weregoing well; all risk was at an end, with the procuringof George's promise and the quieting ofGeorge's scruples (how feeble a nature his was,she thought, but without the acrid scorn a similarreflection had aroused in her husband's mind);and every week of time gained without the revivalof any inquisition, was a century of presumptivesafety. Yes, now she yvas very weak, andcertainly not quite well;it was all owing to hersleeplessness. How could any one be well whodid not get oblivion inthe darkness ? This wouldpass, ancl time wouldbringrest andpeace. Whollypossessed by her love for her husband, she was
RECOGNITION.11not conscious of the changeinher mannertowardshim. She did not know that the strange repulsionshe sometimes felt, and yvhich she told herselfwasmerely physical nervousness,had so told uponher, that she was absent and distant with him forthe most part, and in the occasional spasmodicburstsof love which she yielded to showed suchhaunting and harrowinggrief as sometimes nearlymaddenedhim with anger, with disgust, yvithennui — not with repentance,not with compassion— maddened him, not for her sake, but for hisown.<strong>The</strong> transition, effected by the aid of his intenseselfishness, from his former state of feehngtowards Harriet, to one which required only theintervention of any active cause to become hatred,was not a difficult matter to a man like Routh.Having lost all her former charm, and much ofher previous usefulness, she soonbecame to hima disagreeable reminder. Something more thanthat — the mental superiority of the woman, yvhichhad never before incommoded him, now becamepositively- hateful to him.It earned with it,nowthat it was no longer his mainstay, a power which
12 BLACK SHEEP.was humiliating, because it was fear-inspiring.Routh was afraid of his wife, and kneyv that heyvas afraid of her, yvhen he had ceased to love her,after he had begun to dislike her; so much afraidof her that he kept up appearances to an extent,ancl for a duration of time, inexpressibly irksometo a man so callous, so egotistical, so entirely devoidof any sentiment or capacity of gratitude.Such yvas the position of affairs when GeorgeDallas and Mr. Felton left London to join Mr.and Mrs. Carruthers at Homburg. From thetime of his arrival, and even yvhen he had yieldedto the clever arguments which had been adducedto urge him to silence, there was a sense of insecurity,a foreboding in Routh's mind; not a traceof the sentimental superstitious terror yvith whichimaginary- criminals are invested after the fact,but with the reasonable fear of a shrewd man, ina tremendously dangerous and difficult position,who knows he has made a false move, and looks,with moody perplexity, for the consequences?sooneror later." Hemust have come to England, at all events,Stewart," Harriet said to her husband, yvhen he
RECOGNITION. 13cursed his own imprudence for the twentieth time;" he must have come home to see his uncle. Mr.Felton would have been directed here to us bythe old yvoman at Poynings, and we must havegiven his address. Remember, his uncle arrivedin England the same dayhe did."" I should have sent' him to George, notbrought George to him," said Routh."Anclthere's that uncle of his,Felton;he is no friendof ours, Harriet;he does not like us."" Iam quite aware of that," she answered;" civil as he is, he is very honest,and has neverpretended to be our friend. If he is George'sfriend, and George has told him anything abouthis life since he has known us,Ithink we couldhardly expect him tolike us."Her husbandgave her oneof his darkest looks,but she did not remark it. Many things passednow without attracting her notice; even her husband'slooks, and sometimes his yvords, which wereoccasionally as bitter as he dared to make them.He was possessed with a notion that he must,for a time at least, keep a wratch upon GeorgeDallas; not near, indeed, nor apparently- close,
14 BLACK SHEEP.but constant, and as complete as the maintenanceof Harriet's influence yvith him made possible.For himself,he felt his own influence was gone,and he wasfar too yvisetoattempt tocatch at it,asit vanished,or toignore itsabsence. He acquiescedin the tacit estrangement;he yvas never in theway, but he neverlost sight of George;he alwaysknew what he was doing, and had early informationofhis movements,and yvith tolerable accuracy,considering that the spy wdiose services he employedwas quite an amateur ancl novice.This spy was Mr. James Swain, who took tothe duties of his new line of business yvith vigorouszeal, ancl who seemed to derive a arim kindofamusement from their discharge. Stewart Routhhad arrived with certainty at the conclusionthat the young man had adhered to the promisedsilence up to the time of his leaving England withhis uncle, ancl he felt assured that Mr. Feltonwasin entireignorance of the circumstances yvhichhad had such terrible results forMrs. Carruthers.It yvas really important to him to have GeorgeDallas watched, and, in setting Jim Swain towatch him, he was inspired by darkly sinister
RECOGNITION.15—motives, in view of certain remote contingenciesmotives which hacl suggested themselves to himshortly after George's unhesitatingrecognition ofthe boy who had taken Routh's note to Deane,on the last day of the unhappy man's hfe, hadsolved the difficulty yvhich had long puzzled him.Only second in importance to his keeping GeorgeDallas in view washis not losing sight of the boy-;and all this time it never occurred to Routh, asamong the remote possibilities of things, that Mr.Jim Swain yvas quite as determined to keep aneveonhim.Harriet had acquiesced in her husband's proposalthat they- should go to Homburg readily.It happened that she was rather more cheerfulthan usual on the clay he made it, more like,though still terribly unlike,her former self.Shewas in one of those intervals in yvhich the torturedprisoner stoops at the stake, during a temporarysuspension of the inventive industry of hisexecutioner. <strong>The</strong> fire smouldered for a little,thepincers cooled. She wasin the hands of inflexibletormentors, ancl who could tell what device
16 BLACK SHEEP.of pain might attend the rousing from the brieftorpor ? Nature must have its periods of rest forthe mind, be the agony ever so great; and hersyvas of the slow ancl hopeless kind which has suchintervals most surely,and with least efficacy. Oneof them had come just then, and she was placid,drowsy, and acquiescent. She went with Routhto Homburg; he managed to make some hopeful,promising, and credulous acquaintances on theway,and was besides accredited to some " businesspeople," of perfectly authentic character, at Frankfort,inthe interest of the flourishing Flinders.<strong>The</strong> change, the novelty, the sight ofgaiety inwhicli she took no share,but wliich she looked onat with a partial diversion of her mind, did hergood. It was something even to be out of England;not a very- rational or well-founded relief,but still a relief, explicable ancl defensible too, onthe theory to which she adhered, that all her illsyvere merely physical. <strong>The</strong> torpid interval prolongeditself, and the vital powers of the suffererwere recruited for the wakening.This took place when Mrs. L-eton P. Bembridge'spony-carriage passed her as she sat by the
RECOGNITION. 17side of the broad shaded road, ancl the woman'ssplendid black eyes met hers. When her husbandpassed her yvithout seeing her, absorbed in passionateadmiration, which any child must haverecognised as such,for the beautiful woman whosepony-carriage was like a triumphal chariot, soroyaland conquering of aspect wras she.Keen were the tormentors, and full of avidity,and subtle yvas the new device to tax the recruitedstrength anclmock the brief repose. It wasraging,fierce, fiery, maddening jealousy.It yvas late in the afternoon of the day onwhich Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge had sent heranswer to Mr. Felton's note, and while GeorgeDallas was sitting with Mrs. Routh, that thebeautiful widow ancl her companion — this timeexploring the forest glades in another direction,in yvhich they met but few of the visitors to thesprings — once morementioned Mr.Felton and hisson.<strong>The</strong> grayponies yvere going slowdy-, and theFrench groom in attendance was considering theprobable direction of the " affair" in which hismistress had so precipitately engaged herself, anclVOL. III.c
18 BLACK SHEEP.which, being conducted in thc English tongue,was interpreted to him by glances and tones only.<strong>The</strong> beauty of the face on which Stewart Routhwas gazing in an intensity of admiration, w-ith acertain desperation in it,in which a cleverer womanthan this oneyvould have seen indications ofcharacter to warn and alarm her,but which thisone merely recognised as a tribute clue to her, wasmarvellously bright and soft, as the slanting raysof the sun came through the tree stems, andtouched it lingeringly, lovingly. Her black eyeshad wonderful gleams ancl reflections in them, andthe masses of her dark hair were daintily tingedand tipped with russet tints. She was looking alittle thoughtful, a little dreamy. Was she tired,for the moment, of sparkling? Was she restingherself in an array of the semblance oftenderness,more enchanting still?" You knew him, then, in your husband's lifetime?He is not a new acquaintanceI"" What a catechist you are!" she said, withjust a momentary glance at him, and the least"flicker of a smile. Ididknow him in my husband'slifetime, who highly disapproved of him,
RECOGNITION.19if you care for that piece of information; we weregreat friends and he yvas rather inclined to presumeupon the fact afterwards."She lingered upon the word, and gave it allthe confirmatory expression Routh had expectedand feared." And yet you make an appointment with himto meethim here, in this place, where every oneisremarked and speculated upon; here, alone, where"jou are without even a companion Hepaused, and with a light, mocking laugh, inexpressibly-provoking, she said:" Why don't you say a' sheep-dog'? We knowthe immortal Becky quite as well as you do.Inthe first place, my appointment with Arthur Feltonmeanssimply- nothing. Iam just as likely- tobreak it as to keepit; to go to London,orVienna,or Timbuctoo, to-morrow, if the fancy takes me;or tostay here, and havehim toldI'mnot at homewhen he calls, only that would please his father;andMi'. Felton is about .the only male creature ofmy acquaintance whomIdon't wantto please. Inthe second place,Idon't care one straw who remarksme, or what they remark, and have no
20 BLACK SHEEP.notion of allowing public opinion to take precedenceof mypleasure."She laughed again, a saucy laugh yvhich he didnot like, gave him another glanceand anotherflicker of her eyelash, and said:" Why, how extremelyr preposterous you arc!You know well, ifIcared what people could,would, might, or should say,Iwould not allowyou to visit me every day, andIwould not driveyou out alone like this."<strong>The</strong> perfect unconcern and freedom of theremark took Routh by surprise, and disconcertedhim as completely as its undeniable truth. Hekept silence; and Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge,amused at the blank expression of his countenance,burst into a hearty fit of laughter thistime." Itell youIdon't care about public opinion.All the men admire me, no matter whatIdo; andall the womenhate me, ancl yvouldhate me all thesame, for my beauty— whichIentirely appreciate,you know — ifImade my life as dull and decorous,as miserable, squalid, and canting, asImake itpleasant, and joyous, ancl ' not the thing.' Neither
RECOGNITION.21men nor women dare to insult me; and if theydid,Ishould know how to meet the emergency,Iassureyou,thoughIamnotat allclever.Iamonlycourageous— ' plucky,' your English ladies call it,Ithink,inthe last newstyle ofstable ancl barrackroomtalk.Iam that;Idon't think thatIcouldbe afraid of anything or any one."" Not of a man who reallyloved you with allthe force and passion of his heart ?" said Routh,in a hoarse whisper, and bending a fierce darklook uponher." Certainly- not," she rephed, lightly ;but thecolour rose in her cheek, and her breath came a"httle quicker. Idon't believe in people lovingwith passion and force, and all that sort of thing.It is pretty- to talk about on balconies, ancl itlooks well on paper,in a scrawly hand, runningcrookedly up into the corner, and yvith plenty ofdashes, and no date — " And here she laughedagain, and touched up the grays. Routhstill keptsilence, and still his dark look was bent uponher."No, no," she went on, as the rapid trot ofthe ponies began again to sound pleasantly on the
22 BLACK SHEEP.level road, and she turned them out of the forestboundaries towards the town, "I know nothingabout all that, except pour rire, as they say inParis, about everything under the sun,Ido beheve.To return to Arthur Felton; he is thelast person in the world with whomIcouldimagine any woman could get up anything moreserious than the flimsiest flirtation.""You did 'getup' that,however,Iimagine?"said Routh." Of course we did. We spouted very tritepoetry, and he sent me bouquets — yrery cheapones they were, too, and generally came late inthe evening, when they may,being warranted notto keep, be had at literally a dead bargain; andwe evenexchanged photographs — Idon't say portraits,y-ou w-ill observe. His is like enough;butthat is really nothing, even among the most.prudish of the blonde misses.Iwonder the haberdashersdon't send their likenesses withtheir bills,andIshall certainly give mine to the postmanhere;Iamalways grateful to the postman everywhere,anclIlike this one — he has nice eyes, hisnameis Hermann, anclhe does not smoke."
" What a degenerate German !" said Routh.RECOGNITION.23"And so Mr. Arthur Felton has your likeness?"" Had— hacl, you mean. How can Itellwhere it is now? — thrown in the fire, probably,and that of the reigning sovereign of his affectionscomfortably installed in the locket whichcontained it, which is handsome,Iconfess;buthe does not so much mind spending money onhimself, you see. Itis exactly like this."She placed her whip across the reins, and heldall with the left hand, yvhile she fumbled withthe right among the satin and lace in wliich shewas wrapped, and drew out a short gold chain, towhich a richly chased golden ball, as large as anegg, yvas attached. Turning slightly towardshim, ancl gently checking her ponies, she toucheda spring, ancl the golden egg opened lengthways,and disclosedtwo smallfinelyexecutedphotographs.One was a likeness of herself, and Routhmade the usual remarks about the insufficiency ofHe wasthe photographic art in certain cases.bendinc closely over her hand, when she reversedthe revolving plate, and showed him the portraiton the other side.
24 BLACK SHEEP." That is ArthurFelton," she said.<strong>The</strong>n she closed the locket, and let it dropclown by her side amid the satin and the lace.<strong>The</strong> French groom hacl in his charge a softIndia shawl in readiness for his mistress,in caseof need. This shawl Stewart Routh took fromthe servant, and wrapped very carefully roundMrs. Ireton P. Bembridge as they neared thetown." <strong>The</strong> evening has turned very cold," he said;and, indeed, though she did not seem to feel it,and rather laughed at his sohcitude, Routhshivered more than once before she set him down,near the Kursaal, and then drove homeyvards,past the house where his wife yvas watching forher, and waitingfor him.Routh ordered his dinner at the Kursaal,but,thoughhe sat for a long time at the table,he atenothing yvhich was served to him. But he dranka great dealof yvine, and he went home to Harriet— drunk."Hoyv horribly provoking! It must havecome undone whileI yvas handling it to-day,"
RECOGNITION.25saidMrs.Ireton P. Bembridge to her maid, whenthat domestic was attiring her for dinner. "Ihad the locket, open,not anhour ago.""Yes,ma'am," answered the maid, examiningthe short gold chain; " it is not broken, theswivel is open.""And of all my lockets,Iliked my goldeneggbest," lamented Mrs.Ireton P.Bembridge.
CHAPTER II.A FIRST APPEAL." STEWART," said Harriet Routh to her husbandin a tone of calm, self-possessed inquiry, on thefollowing day, "what has happened? What occurredyesterday, which you had not the courageto face, and deprived yourself of the power oftelling me ?"As Harriet asked him this question, she unconsciouslyassumed her former manner. Somethingtold her that the cause of Routh's conduct,and of the distress of mind which she read inhis face, was not connected w-ith the subjectthat was torturing her. Anything apart fromthat, any misfortune, any calamity even, mightdraw them together again;might teach him anewhis need of her, her worth to him — she felt somealarm, but it was strangely mingled with satisfaction.<strong>The</strong> sharp agony she had endured had
A FIRST APPEAL. 27impaired her faculties so far, had dulled herclear understanding so far, that the proportionsof the dangers in her path had changed places,and the first and greatest clanger was thisstranger — this beautiful, dreadful woman. Inthatdirection was the terrible impotence, the helplesshorror of weakness, which is the worst attributeof human suffering; in every other, there yvasthe power to exercise her faculties, to rally herpresence of mind, to call on her fertility of resource,to act for and with him.With him ather side, and in his cause, Harriet was consciouslystrong; but from a trouble in which he shouldbe arrayed against her, in which he should beher enemy, she shrank, like a leaf from theshrivelling touch of fire.She was standing by his side as she askedhim the question, in the familiar attitude whichshe had discarded of late. Her composed figureand pale calm face, the small firm white hand,wliich touched his shoulder with the steady touchhe knew so well, the piercing clear blue eyes,all had the old promise in them, of help thathad never failed, of counsel that had never mis-
28 BLACK SHEEr.led.He thought of all these things, he felt allthese things,but he no longer thought of, or remembered,or looked for the love which had beentheir motive and their life. He sat moodily-, hisface pale and frowning, one clenched hand uponhis knee, the other restlessly drumming uponthe table;his eyes were turned away from her,and for some time after she had spoken he kepta sullen silence."Tell me, Stewart," she repeated, in a softervoice, while the hand that touched his shouldermoved gently- to his neck and clasped it. "Iknow there is something wrong, very wrong.Tell me yvhatit is."He turned ancl looked full at her."Do jou remember what you said, Harriet,yvhen that letter came from Poynings — what yousaid about the hydra and its heads ?"" Iremember," she answered. Her pale cheekgrew paler; but she drew nearer to his side,and her fingers clasped his neck more closelyand more tenderly. "I remember. Anotherhead has sprung up, and is menacing you.""Yes," he said, half fiercely, half wearily.
A FIRST APPEAL. 29"This cursed thing is never to be escaped norforgotten,Ibeheve. Ican hardly tell you whathas happened, Harry, and even you will hardlysee your way out of this."A touch of feeling for her was in his voice.He really- did suffer in the anticipation oftheshock she yvould have to sustain." Tell me— tell me," she repeated, faintly, andyvith a quick involuntary closing of her eyes,which yvould have told a close observer of constantsuffering and apprehension."Sit down, Harry." He rose as he spoke,placed her in his chair, and stood before her,holding both her hands in his."I have found out that the man we knewas Philip Deane was — was ArthurFelton, GeorgeDallas's cousin, the manthey areinquiring about,yvhom they are expecting here."She did not utter a cry, a groan, or any sortof sound. She shrank into the chair she yvassitting in, as if she cowered for life in a hidingplace,her outstretched hands turned cold andclammy in her husband's grasp. Into her widelyopened blue eyes a look of unspeakable horror
30 BLACK SHEEP.came, and the paleness of her cheeks turned toashen gray. Stewart Routh, still standingbeforeher holding her hands, looked at her as theghastly change came over her face, telling —what words could never tell — of the anguish shewas suffering, ancl thought for a moment thatshe was dying before his face.<strong>The</strong> breath camefrom her lips in heavy gasps, and her low whitebrow yvas damp with cold sluggish drops."Harriet," said Routh — "Harriet, don't giveway like this. It's awful — it's w-orse than anythingIey-er thought of, or feared. But don'tgive waylike this."" Iam not giving way," she said. Drawingher hands from his hold, she raised them toher head, and held them pressed to her templeswhile she spoke. "Iwill not give way. Trustme, as you have done before. This, then, iswhatIhave felt coming nearer and nearer, likea danger in the dark — this — this dreadful truth.It is better known than vague.you have discovered it."Tell me howHe began to walk up and down the room,and she still sat cowering inher chair,her hands
A FIRST APPEAL.31pressing her temples, her eyes, with their horrorstrickenlooks, following him."I discovered it by an extraordinary accident.Ihave not seen much of Dallas, as youknow, andIknoyv nothing in particular aboutMr. Felton and his son.But there is a ladyhere — an American w-idow — who knows Feltonwell.""Yes," said Harriet, with distinctness; anclnow she sat upright in her chair, and her lowwhite brow was knitted over her horror-stricken"eyes. Yes,Ihave seen her."" Have you indeed ? Ah! well, then, youknoyv — whoImean. She and he were greatfriends lovers,Ifancy," Routh went on, withpainful effort; "and when they parted in Paris,it was with an understanding that they were tomeet here just about this time. Shemet GeorgeDallas, and told him, not that, but somethingwhicli made him understand that informationwas to be had from her, and she has appointedan interview withMr. Felton for to-morrow.""Yes," repeated Harriet, "I understand.When she and he meet, she will tell him his sou
32 BLACK SHEEP.is coming here. His son will not come. Howdid you discov-er what you have discovered?"He took out of his pocket a large locket likea golden egg, ancl openedit by touching a spring.It opened lengthwise, and he held it towardsHarriet. She looked at one of the photographswhich it enclosed, and then, pushing it fromher, coveredher face with her hands."She showed me that yesterday," Routhcontinued,his throat drier, his voice more hesitatingwith every- yvord he spoke, — "yvhen shetold me she was expecting him andIcontrivedto secureit.""For what purpose?" asked Harriet, hoarsely."Don't you see, Harriet," he said, earnestly," that it is quite plain Dallas has never seen alikeness of his cousin,or he must have recognisedthe face? Evidently Mr. Felton has not oneyvith him. Dallas might not have seen this;butthen, on the other hand, he might;and to preventhis seeing it, even for a few hours,untilwehacl time to talk it over, to gain ever so littletime, yvas agreat object."" You took a strange way of gaining time,
A FIRST APPEAL. 33Stewart," said Harriet. "Had you come homelast night in a state to tell me the truth, timewould really have been gained. We might havegot away this morning."mean?"Got ayvay!" said Routh. "What do youWhat good could that do?""Can you seriously ask me?" she returned."Does any other course suggest itself to you?""I don't know, Harry. Iam bewildered.<strong>The</strong> shock was so great that the only thingIcould think of was to try ancl forget it for alittle. Idon't know thatIever in my life deliberatelydrank for the purpose of confusing mythoughts, or postponing them,before; butIcouldnot help it, Harry. <strong>The</strong> discovery yvas so farfrom any apprehension or fancyIhacl everhad.""<strong>The</strong> time was, Stewart," said Harriet,slowly- and with meaning, "when, instead of'confusing' or 'postponing' any- trouble, dread,or difficulty, you yvould have brought any or allof them to me at once; unhappily for us both,Ithink that time is past."vol. III.D
A FIRST APPEAL.35suchfancies now. This is no time for them.We must look thingsin the face, and act.""It is not I, but you, who refuse to lookthings in the face, Stewart. This woman, yvhomIdo not know, who has not sought my acquaintance,whose name you have not once mentionedbefore me, but who makes yTou the confidantof her flirtations and her appointments — she isyoung and beautiful, is she not?"" What the devil does it matter whether sheis or not?" said Routh, fiercely.are bent on driving me mad."I think youWhat has cometo you? Idon't know youin this new character.Itellyou, this — "woman" Mrs.Bembridge," said Harriet, calmly."Mrs. Bembridge, then, has been the meansof my making a discovery which is of tremendousimportance, and thus she has unconsciouslysaved me from anawful danger.""By preventing George Dallas from findingout this fact for a little longer?"" Precisely so. NowIhope you ha\-e cometo yourself,Harriet, and will talk rationally aboutthis."
36 BLACK SHEEP." Iwill," she said, rising from her chair andapproaching him. She placed her hands upon hisshoulders,and looked at him yvith a steady, searchinglook. We will talk this out, Stewart, andI"will not shrink from anything there is to be saidabout it;but y-ou must hear me then,inmy turn.We are not hke other people, Stewart, and ourlife is not like theirs. Only ruin can come of anydiscord or disunion between us."<strong>The</strong>n she quietly turned away and sat downby the yvindow,with her head alittle averted fromhim, waiting for him to speak. Her voice hadbeen low and thrilling as she said those few yvords,yvithout atone of anger in it,and yet the callousmanto whom they were addressed heard in themsomething which sounded like the yvarning or themenaceof doom." When Dallas knows yvhat wenowknow,Harriet,"said Routh, " he will come to us and tell ushis discovery, and then the position of affairs willbe that for which yve wereprepared, if we hadnotsucceeded in inducing him to be silent aboutDeane's identity."" Exactly so," said Harriet; " with the addi-
A FIRST APPEAL.37tional difficulty of his having concealed his knowledge.""Yes," said Routh; "but that is his affair,not ours. He concealed his knoyvleclge becausehe was compromised. <strong>The</strong>re is nothing to compromiseme.Ineglected apublic duty, certainly-,in favour of a private friendship;but that is avenial offence."It was wonderful to see how the callousnessof the man asserted itself.As he arranged thecircumstances, and stated them, he began to regainhis accustomed ease of manner." It is unfortunate that he should be compromisedin this double w-ay, and, of course, therewill be a great deal to go through, which will behard to bear, and not easy to manage; but, afterall, the thingis only as bad as it yvas yvhen Dallascame back. Don't you see that,Harriet?""Isee that, Stewart, butIalso see that hewill nowhave a tenfold interest in finding out thetruth. Hitherto he might have been content yvithclearing himself of suspicion, but nowhe will bethe oneperson most deeply interested in discoveringthe truth.'
38 BLACK SHEEP." But how can he discover it?" said Routh;his face darkened, and he dropped his voice still" lower. Harriet, have you forgotten that if therebe danger from him, there is also the means ofturning that danger on himself? Have you forgottenthatIcan direct suspicion against himtenfold stronger than any that can arise againstGS.Sme.She shivered,ancl closed her eyes again. " No,Ihave not forgotten," she said; " but O, Stewart,it is an awful thing to contemplate — a horribleexpedient.""Yet y-ou arranged it with a good deal ofcomposure, and said very little about its beinghorrible at the time," said Routh, coarsely. "Ihope you are not going to be afflicted with misplacedand ill-timed scruples now. It'srather latein the day, you know, and you'll have to choose,inthat case, between Dallas and me."She made him no answer." <strong>The</strong> thingis justthis," he " continued; Dallascannot come to any serious grief,Iam convinced;but,ifthe occasion arises, he must be letcome to whatever grief there may be — a trial and
A FIRST APPEAL. 39an acquittal at the worst. <strong>The</strong> tailor's death,and his mother's recovery, will tell in his favour,though I've no doubt he will supplyall the informationEvans would have given, of his own accord.Ithink there is no real risk; but, Hamet,much, very much, depends on you."" On me, Stewart! How ?"" In this way. When Dallas comes to seeyou,you must find out whether any- other clue to thetruth exists;if not, there is time before us.Youmust keep up the best relations yvith him, andfind out all he is doing.Is it not very odd thathe has not mentioned his uncle's solicitude abouthis son to you?""I don't think so, Stewart. Ifeel instinctively-that Mr. Felton dislikes ancl distrusts us—(what well-founded dislike and distrust it was!"she thought, mournsullyr, with a faint pity for theunconscious father) — " and George knows it,Iamsure, and will not talk to me about his uncle'saffairs.He is right there; there is delicacy offeehng in George Dallas."" You seem to understand every turn in hisdisposition," saidRouth, with a sneer.
40 BLACK SHEEP." <strong>The</strong>re are not many to understand,"replied"Harriet,simply. <strong>The</strong> good and the evil in himare easily found, being superficial. However, weare not talking of his character, but of certainirreparable harm wliich we must do him,it seems,in addition to that which wehave clone. Go onyvith yvhat you weresaying."" I yvas saying that you must find out whatyou can, and win his confidence in every yvay.shall keep as clear of him as possible, under anycircumstances. If the interview of to-morrow goesoff without any discovery, there will be a chanceof its not beingmade atall.""Impossible, Stewart — quite impossible," saidHarriet, earnestly. "Do not nourish any suchexpectation. How long, do you suppose, yvillMr.Felton remain content yvith expecting his son'sarrival, ancl hearing no news of him? How soonwill he set inquiries on foot which must end indiscovery? Remember, hiding is possible onlyyvhen there is no one seeking,urged by a strongmotive to find. Listen to me, now, in your turn,and listen to me as you used to do, not to cavil atmy words, or sneer at them, but to weigh themI
A FIRST APPEAL.41well. This is a warningto us, Stewart. Idon'ttalk superstition, as you know. Idon't beheve inany nonsense of the kind;but thisIdo believe,because experience teaches it,that there are combinationsof circumstances in which the yvise mayread signs and tokens wliich do not mislead. Hereis just such a case.<strong>The</strong> first misfortune wasGeorge's return;it yvas confirmed by his uncle'sarrival; it is capped by- this terrible discovery.Stewart, let us be warned ancl wise in time;letus return to England at once — to-morrow.Isupposeyou yvill have the meansof learning the tenorof Mr.Felton's interview with this lady who knewhis son so well. If no discovery- be then made, letus take it as another indication of luck, circumstance,what you will, ancl go."" What for ?" saidRouth,in amazement. "Areyoureturning to that notion,yvhen allIhave saidis to show you that you must not lose sight ofDallas?"" Iknow," she said— " Iknow;but you arealtogether wrong. George Dallas must make thediscovery some time, ancl must bear the brunt ofthe suspicion. Idon't speak in his interests, but
42 BLACK SHEEP.in yours — in mine. Let it come whenit may,butlet usbe aw-ay out of it all. We have moneynow,Stewart — at least, we are not so poor but that wemay make oui' way in another country — that wemay begin another life. HaveIever talked idly,Stewart, or given you evil counsel? No, surelynot. In all the years for which you have beenall the world to me,Ihave never spoken vainly;let me not speak vainly now. Imight implore,Imight entreat," she went on, her eyes nowbright"with eagerness and her hands clasped. Imightplead a woman's weakness and natural terror;Imight tell youIamnot able for the task you dictateto me;butItell you none of these things.Iam able to do and to suffer anything, everythingthat may or must be done, or suffered foryou.Idon't even speak of whatIhave suffered;butIsay to you,be guided by me in this — yieldto me inthis. <strong>The</strong>re is a weak spot inour stronghold;there is a flaw in our armour.Iknow it.Icannot tell,Icannot guess where itis. An instincttells me that ruin is threatening us, andthis is our way of escape. O, my husband,listento me!"
A FIRST APPEAL. 43He was standing opposite to her, leaningagainst an angle of the wall, mingled fury andamazement in his face, but he did not interrupther by a word or a sign." <strong>The</strong>re is no power in me," she went on, " totellyou the strengthof my conviction that this isthe turning-point in our fate. Let us take themoney we have, and go. Why should you stayin England,Stewart, morethan inanyother country?We have no ties but one another." Shelooked at him more sharply- here, throughall her"earnestness. Friendships and the obligationsthey bring are not for us. <strong>The</strong> world has nohome-bonds for us.Where moneyis to be madeyou can live, in such content as y-ou can everhave; and where you areIam as content asIcan everbe."" You are a cheerful counsellor," Routh broke"out, in uncontrollable passion. Do you thinkIam mad, woman, whenIhave playedso desperatea game, ancl am winning it so fast, thatIshouldthrow up my cards now?Let me hear nomoreof this. Come to your senses, if you can, ancl assoon as you can, forIyvill not stand this sort of
44 BLACK SHEEP.thing,Ican tell you. Iwill not leave this placean horn- sooner thanIintended toleave it. Anclas to leavingEngland, if the yvorst came to passthat could happen,Ishould hardly be driven tothat extremity. What devil is in you, Harriet,to prompt you to exasperate me, yvhenIlooked toyoufor help?"" What devilisinyou" she ansyveredhim,risingas she spoke, "that is promptingyou toyour ruin?What devil,doIsay? Words, mere words. WhatdoIknow or believe of God, or devil, or anyruling power but the wicked yvill of men andwomen, to waylay-, ancl torture,and destroy? <strong>The</strong>devil of blindness is in you, the devil of wilfulness,the devil of falsehood ancl ingratitude; andablacker devil still,Itell y-ou.See that it doesnot rend you, asIreadin the oldbook — for everclosed for me."Her breast was heaving violently, and hereyes were unnaturally bright, but there was nota ray of colour in her face, and her voice wasrapid and unfaltering in its utterance. Routhlooked at her, and hated her. Hated her, andfeared her,and uttered nevera word.
" <strong>The</strong> madness that goes before destruction isA FIRST APPEAL.45coming fast upon you," she said; " Isee it nonethe more clearly because that destruction mustinvolve me too.Letit come;Iam ready for it,asIhave been ready for any evil for a long timenow. You speak idle words to me when you reproachme, Stewart.Iam above and beyondreproach from y-ou. Iam as wicked a woman, ifthe definition of good and evil be true, as everlived upon this earth;butIhave been, and am,to you what no good woman could be — and lookto it, if you requite me ill. /don't threaten youin saying this — no threats can come from me, norwould any avail — but in your treachery to me, itsown punishment will be hidden, ready to springout upon and destroyyou. Scorn my influence,slight my counsel, turn a deaf ear to the wordsthat are inspired by love such as only a wretchlike me, with no hope or faith at all in Heaven,—and only this hope and faith onEarth, can feeland see the end."He stepped forward ancl yvas going to speak,but she put out her hand and stopped him." Not now. Don't say anything to me, don't
46 BLACK SHEEP.ask me anything now. Don't speak words thatImust be doomed for ever to remember — for everto long to forget.Have so much mercy- on me,for the sake of the past and for the sake of thepresent. Ruin is impending over us; if youwill, y-ou may escape it;but there is only oneway."She had drawn near the door as she spoke thelast words.In another instant she had left him.Left him in a most unenviable state of bewilderment,rage, ancl confusion. <strong>The</strong> emotionyvhich had overpowered him yvhen he had madethe discovery of yesterday was almost forgotten inthe astonishment yvith yvhich Harriet's words hadfilled him.An uneasy sense, wliich was not anythingso wholesome as shame, was overhim. AVhatdid she know of his late proceedings? Had shewatched him ? Hacl any of the gossiping tonguesof the place carried the tidings of the beautifulAmerican's openly paraded conquest? No, thatcould hardlybe, for Harrietknew no oneatHomburgbut George,ancl George knew nothing abouthim. Was he not always with either his mother,or his uncle, or with Harriet herself? Besides,
A FTRST APPEAL.47George would not say anything to Harriet thatcould hurt her. <strong>The</strong> fellow was a fool and softhearted,his quondam friend thought, with muchsatisfaction. He must set it right with Harriet,however; under any circumstances he must notquarrel with her; in this fresh complication particularly-.It could only be a general notion thatshe had taken, and he must endeavour to removeit; for though he was horribly weary of her,though he hated her at that moment, and feltthat he should very likely continue to hate her,even at that moment, and while resolved to disregardher advice, and utterly- unmoved by- herappeal, he knew he could not afford to lose heraid.If the beautiful American could have seen thevisions of probabilities or possibilities in whichshe was concerned, that floated through StewartRouth's mind as he stood gazing out of the windoww-hen his wife had left him, she might, perhaps,have felt rather uneasy at the revelation.Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge was not an adept atreading character, and sometimes, when a disagreeableimpression that her new admirer was a
48 BLACK SHEEP.man of stronger will ancl tougher material thanshe altogether liked to deal with,crossed hermind,she would dismiss it with the reflection that suchearnestness yvas very flattering ancl very excitingfor a time, and the duration of that time was entirely-withinher choice and discretion.Stewart Routh stood at the window thinkinghurriedly and confusedly of these things. <strong>The</strong>reyvas a strange fear over him, yvith all his assurance,with all the security which he affirmed overand over again to himself, and backed up with aresolution which he had determined from the firstto conceal from Harriet." If my own safety positively demands it," hethought, "Jim's evidence about the note will beuseful, and the payment to the landlady w-ill betolerably conclusive.Dallas told Harriet the iniitialsyvere A.F.Iwonder it never occurred tome at the time."Presently he heard Harriet's step in the corridor.It paused for amoment at the sitting-room,then passed on, and she went out. She was closelyveiled, and did not turn her head towards theyvindow as she went by. Routh drew nearer and
A FIRST APPEAL.49watched her, as she walked swiftly away. <strong>The</strong>nhe caught sight of George Dallas approaching thehouse. He and Harriet met ancl shook hands,then George turned and walked beside her. <strong>The</strong>yyveresoon out of sight." Idon't thinkIshall seemuch"more of Homburg,"George was saying. My mother hastaken an extraordinary longing to get back toPoynings. Dr. Merle says she must not be opposedin anything not really injurious. She isvery anxiousIshould go with her, and Mr. Carruthersis very kind about it.""Youwill go,George, of course?"" Idon't quite knoyv yvhat to do, Mrs. Routh.Idon'tlike to let my mother go yvithout me, nowthat things are so well squared;Idon't hke topersuade her toput off her journey, and yetIfeelIought,if possible, to remain yvith my uncle untilhis truant son turns up."" Has— has nothingbeen heard of him yet?"" Not a word.Iwas ayvfully frightened aboutit, thoughIhid it from my uncle, untilImetMrs.Ireton P. &c. But though she didn't say much,Icould seeby her manner it was all right. BlessVOL. III.E
50 BLACK SHEEP.you, she knows all about him,Mrs.Routh.Idaresay he'll appear next week, and be very littleobliged to us all for providing a family- party forhim here."
CHAPTER HI.DURING THE LULL.On the appointed day, at the appointed hour,Mr. Felton, accompanied by his nephew, calledon _\Irs. Ireton P. Bembridge, who received thetwo gentlemen with no remarkably cordiality.Coquetry was so inseparable from her natureand habits,that she could not forbear from practisinga few of her fascinations upon the youngerman, and she therefore relaxed considerably fromthe first formality of her demeanour after a while.But George Dallas was the least promising andencouraging of subjects for the peculiar practiceof the beautiful widow, and he so resolutely aidedhis uncle inplacing the conversation on a strictlybusinessfooting, and keeping it there, as tospeedily convince the lady that he was entirelyunworthyof her notice. She was not destituteof a certain good nature which rarely fails to
52 BLACK SHEEP.accompany beauty, wealth, and freedom, and shesettled the matter yvith herself by reflecting thatthe young man was probably' in love with somepretty girl, to whom he wrote his verses, andconsidered it proper to be indifferent to the attractionsof all female charmers beside. She didnot resent his inaccessibility-; she merely thoughtof it as an odd coincidence that Mr. Felton'snephew should be as little disposed to succumbto lov^e as Mr. Felton himself, and felt inclinedto terminate the interview as soon as possible.Consequently, she made her replies to _\lr. Felton'squestions shorter and colder as they succeededone another, so that he felt some difficultyin putting that particular query on whichGeorge had laid restricted stress. He did notperceive how deep and serious his nephew's misgivingshacl become, and George grasped at everyexcuse that presented itself for deferring theawakening of fears which, once aroused, mustbecome poignant ancl terrible. He had learnedfrom Mrs. L'eton P. Bembridge some of thc factswhich she had communicated to Routh: youngFelton's intention of visiting Homburg at about
DURING THE LULL.53the period of the year which they had thenreached;his departure from Paris, and the unbrokensilence since maintained towards her as toyvardsMr. Felton himself.<strong>The</strong> information shehacl to give was in itself so satisfactory, so tranquillising,that Mr. Felton, who had no reasonto expect obedience from his son, felt all hisfears — very dim and vague in comparison yviththose yvhich had assailed George's mind — assuaged.Itwas only when his nephew had givenhim some very expressive looks, and he had seenthe fine dark eyes ofMrs. Ireton P. Bembridgedirected unequivocally towards the allegoricaltimepiece whicli constituted one of the chiefglories of the Schwarzchild mansion,that he said:" My nephew has never seen his cousin, Mrs.Bembridge, anclIhave no likeness of him withme.Iknow you are a collector of photographs;perhaps you have one of Arthur ?"" Ihad one, Mr.Felton," rephed Mrs. Bembridge,graciously, " ancl would have shown it toMr. Dallas yvith pleasure yesterday, but, unfornately,Ihavelost it in some unaccountableway."
54 BLACK SHEEr." Indeed," saidMr. Felton;" that is very unfortunate.Wasit not in your book, then ?""I wore it in a locket," said the lady, witha very slight accession to the rich colour in hercheek — " a valuable gold locket, too.Iam goingto have it cried.""Allow me to have that clone for you," said"Mr. Felton. If you yvill describe the locket,and can say where you were yesterday, and atwhat time,Iwill take the necessary steps atonce; these may not succeed, you know; we canbut try."SoMrs.Bembridge described the lost trinketaccurately, and the visit came to a conclusion.As the two gentlemen were leaving the house,they met Mr.Carruthers, who accosted Mr. Feltonwith statelykindliness, and, entering at onceinto conversation with him, prevented the interchangeof any comment upon the interview whichhad just taken place between the uncle and nephew.George left the elder gentlemen together,and turned his steps towards Harriet's lodgings.In a few minutes he met her and joined her inher walk, as Routh had seen from the window-.
DURING THE LULL.55He stood there, long after George and Harriethad passed out of sight, thinking, with sullendesperate rage, of all she had said. He felt likean animal in a trap. All his care and cunning,all his caution and success, had come to this.It was strange, perhaps — if the probability or thestrangeness of anything in such a condition ofmind as his can be defined — that he seldomthought of the dead man.No curiosity abouthim had troubled the triumphof Routh's schemes.He had met so many men in the course of hislife who were mere waifs and strays in the yvorldof pleasure and swindling, who had no ties andno history; about whom nobody- cared; for whom,on their disappearance from the haunts in whichtheir presencehad been familiar, nobody inquired,that onemore such instance,however emphasisedby his own sinister connection yvith him, madehttle impression on Stewart Routh. Lookingback now in the light of this revelation,he couldnot disco\-er that any intimation had ever beenafforded to, or had ever been overlooked by him.<strong>The</strong> dead manhad never dropped ahint by yvhichhis identity might have been discovered, nor had
56 BLACK SHEEP.he, on the other hand, ever betrayed the slightestyvish or purpose of concealment, which probablywould have aroused Routh's curiosity, and set hisinvestigative faculties to work. He had neverspeculated, even at times when all his callousnessand cynicism did not avail to make him entirelyoblivious of the past, on the possibility ofhis learning anything of the history of PhilipDeane;he had been content to accept it,as wellas its termination, as among the number of theyvonderful mysteries of this wonderful life, andhad, so far as in him lay-, dismissed the matterfrom his mind.Nothing that had everhappenedin his life before had given him such a shock asthe discovery he had made yesterday.<strong>The</strong> firsteffect on him has been seen; the second,ensuingon his conversation yvith his wife, yvas a blindand desperate rage, of a sort to which he hadrarely yielded, and of yvhose clanger he was dimlyconscious,even at its height. He waslike a manwalking on a rope at a giddy elevation, to whomthe first faint symptoms of vertigo were makingthemsely-es felt, who was invaded by the deathbringingtemptation tolook down andaround him.
DURING THE LULL.57<strong>The</strong> solemn and emphatic warning of his wifehad had its effect upon his intellect, though hehad hardened his heart againstit. It was whollyimpossible that her invariable judgment, perception,and reasonableness — the qualities to whichhe had owed so much in all theh' former life —could become immediately valueless to a man ofRouth's keenness; he had not yet been turnedinto a fool by his sudden passion for the beautifulAmerican; he still retained sufficientsense towonder and scoff at himself for having beenmade its victim so readily; and he raged and rebelledagainst the conviction that Harriet wasright,but raged and rebelledin vain.In the whirl of his thoughts there was fiercetorture, which he strove unavailingly to subdue:the impossibility of evading the discovery whichmust soon be made; the additional crime bywliich alone he could hope to escape suspicion;a sudden unborn fear that Harriet would failhim in this need — a fear whicli simply signifieddespair — a horrid, baffled, furious helplessness;and a tormenting, overmastering passion for awoman who treated him with all the calculated
58 BLACK SHEEP.cruelty of coquetry — these were the conflictingelements yvhich strove iii the man's dark, badheart,ancl rent it between them, as he stood idlyby the window where his yvife had been accustomedto sit aud undergo her own form of torture.By degrees one fear got the mastery over theothers, and Routh faced it boldly. It yvas thefear of Harriet.Suppose the worst came tothe worst, he thought, ancl there was no otherway of escape, would she suffer him to sacrificeGeorge? He could doit; the desperate resourceyvhich he hacl never hinted to her was within hisreach.<strong>The</strong>y had talked over all possibilities inthe beginning, and had agreed upon a plan anddirection of flight in certain contingencies, but© © .he had always entertained the idea of denouncingGeorge, and now, by the aid of Jim Swain,he saw his way to doing so easily and successfully.Harriet had always been a difficulty, andnowthe obstacle assumed portentous proportions.He had no longer his old power over her.Heknew that; she made him feel this inmany ways;and nowhe had aroused her jealousy.He felt
DURING THE LULL.59instinctively- that such an awakening was fullofterrible danger; of blind, undiscoverable peril.He did not indeed know by experience whatHarriet's jealousy- might be, but he knew yvhather love yvas, ancl the ungrateful villain trembledinhis inmost soul as he remembered its strength,its fearlessness, its devotion, its passion, and itsunscrupulousness, and thought of the possibilityof all these being arrayed against him.Not onetouch of pity for her, not one thought of theagony- of such love betrayed and slighted; of herutter loneliness; of her complete abandonmentof all her life to him, intruded upon the tumultof his angry- mind.He could have cursed thelove which had so served him, now thatit threatenedopposition to his schemes of passion and ofcrime.He did curse it, and her, deeply,bitterly,as one shade after another of fierce evil expressioncrossed his face.<strong>The</strong>re yvas truth hi what she had said, apartfrom the maudlin sentiment from yvhich not eventhe strongest-minded yvoman, he supposed, couldwholly free herself — there was truth, a stem,hard truth. He could indeed escape noyv, taking
60 BLACK SHEEP.yvith him just enough money to enable them tohve in decent comfort, or to make a fresh startin a distant land, where only the hard and honestindustries throve and came to good. How heloathed the thought! How his soul sickened atthe tame, miserable prospect! He would haveloathed it always, even when Harriet ancl hewere friends and lovers; and now, when he fearedher, when he yvas tired of her, yvhen he hatedher, to contemplate such a life note, yvas w-orse— well, not worse than death, that is always theworst of all things to a bad man, ' but something© ©too bad to be thought of. <strong>The</strong>re w-as truth inyvhat she had said, and the knowledge of yvhatwas in his own thoughts, the know-ledge she didnot share,made it all the more true. Supposinghe determined to denounce George, and supposingHarrietrefused to aid him, what then?he must only set her at defiance.<strong>The</strong>nIf such a wildimpossibility as her betraying him could becomereal, it yvould be useless. She yvas his wife; shecould not bear witness against him; in that layhis strength and security, even should the veryworst, the most inconceivably unlikely of human
events, come to pass.DURING THE LULL. 61And he would set her atdefiance! He kept up no reticence yvith himselfnow.Within a few days a change had comeupon him, which yvould have been terrible evento him, had he studied it. He hated her. Hehated her, not only- because he had fallen madlyin love with another womanand was dayby daybecoming more enslaved by this new passion:not chiefly evenbecause of this, but because shewas a living link between him anclthe past.That this should have happened noyv ! That sheshould have right ancl reason, commonsense, andall the force of probability- on her side, inurginghim to fly, now — noyv yvhen he was prospering,when the success of a new speculation in yvhichhe hacl just engaged would, with almost absolutecertainty-, bring him fortune, — this exasperatedhim almost to the point of frenzy.<strong>The</strong>n there arose before his tossed ancl tormentedmind the vision of a blissful possibility-.This other beautiful, fascinating yvoman, yvho hadconquered him by a glance of her imperial eyes,who had beckoned him toher feetby a wave ofher imperial hand — could he not make her love
62 BLACK SHEEP.him well enough to sacrifice herself for him also ?Might he not escape from the toils which wereclosing around him into a new, a glorious liberty,into a life of wealth, and pleasure, and love?She had yielded so immediately to the first influencehe had tried to exert overher;she had admittedhim so readily to an intimacyto whose impropriety,accordingto the strict rules of society,she had unhesitatingly avowed herself awareand indifferent; she had evinced such undisguisedpleasure in his society, and had accepted his unscrupuloushomage so unscrupulously, that hehad as much reason as a coarse-minded man needhave desired for building up a fabric of the mostpresumptuous hope.As these thoughts swept over him, Routhturned from the window, and began again tostride up and down the room.His dark facecleared up, the hot blood spread itself over hissallow cheek, and his deep-set eyes sparkled witha sinister light. <strong>The</strong> desperate expedient to whichhe had resorted on the previous day had gainedhim time, and time was everything in the gamehe designed to play.<strong>The</strong> discovery would not
DURING THE LULL.63be made for some time by George Dallas. Whenit should be made, his triumph might be secured,he might be beyond the reach of harmfrom sucha cause, safe in an elysium, with no hauntingdanger to disturb. <strong>The</strong> others concerned mightbe left to their fate — left to get out of any difficultythat might arise, as best they could. <strong>The</strong>time was short, but that would but inspire himwith more courage and confidence; the daring ofdesperation was a mood wliich suited StewartRouth well.Hours told in such cases.<strong>The</strong> fire and earnestnesswith which he had spoken to the beautifulwidow had evidently surprised and, hethought, touched her.If the demonstration hadnot been made in his own favour, but in thatof another,no onewould have morereadilyunderstoodthan Stewart Routh how much beauty ofform and feature counts for in the interpretationof emotion, how httle real meaning there maybe in the beam of a dark bright eye, how littlegenuine emotion in the flush of a rose-tintedcheek. But it was his own case, and preciselybecause it was, Stewart Routh interpreted every
64 BLACK SHEEP.sign which his captor had made according to hiswishes rather than by the light of his experience.Indeed,he had little experience of akind to availhim in the present instance; his experience hadbeen of stronger, even more dangerous types ofwomanhood than that which Mrs. Bembridgerepresented, or of the infinitely meanerand lower.As he mused and brooded over the vision whichhad flashed upon him,not merely as a possibilityto be entertained, as a hope to be cherished, butas something certain and definite to be done, hisspirits, his courage, his audacity rose, and thedark cloudof dread and foreboding fell from him.He had so long known himself for avillain, thatthere was not even a momentaiy recoil in hismind from the exceeding baseness of the proceedingwhich he contemplated."I can count upon a fortnight," he said tohimself while completing a careful toilet, " andby that timeIshall either be away from all thiswith her, orIshall be obliged to put GeorgeDallas in jeopardy. IfIfail with her — butIwon't think of failure;Icannot fail."a messageHe leftwith Harriet, to the effect that he
DURING THE LULL.65should not dine at home that day (but withoutany explanation of his further movements), andwent out." Ido not see thc force of your reasons forobjecting to my introducing you to my mother,"said George Dallas to Harriet. Mrs. Carruthershad passed them in an opencarriage during theirwalk,and George had urged Harriet to make hismother's acquaintance." Don't you ?" she replied, yvith a smile in"which weariness and sadness mingled. Ithinkyou would, if you thought over them a httle.<strong>The</strong>y include the necessity for avoiding anythinglike an unpleasant or distressing impression onher mind, and you knoyv, George," she said,anticipating and silencing deprecation by a gesture," if she remembers your mention of me atall, she can remember it only to be distressed byit; and the almost equally important considerationof not incurring your step-father's anger in.3any way."As for that,Iassure you he is everythingthat is kind to me now," said George.VOL. III.F
66 BLACK SHEEP." Iam happy to hear it; but do not, therefore,fall into an error yvhich would come veryeasy to your sanguine and facile temperament.Be sure lie is not changed in his nature,howevermodified he may be in his manners. Be quitecure he would object to your former associatesjust as strongly as ever; and remember, he wouldbe right in doing so. Will you take my advice— "once more, George? Youhave doneit beforeshe stopped, and something like a shudder passedover her; " let bygones be completely bygones.Never try to associate the life and the home thatwill be yours for the future with anythingin the— past least, O least of all, withus/"" What do you mean,Mrs. Routh?" George"asked her eagerly. Do vou mean that youwant to giyre me up?Iknow Routh does — hehas not spoken to me a dozen times of his ownaccord since he has been here — but you, do youyvant to get rid of me?"him.She paused for a moment before she answeredShould she say Yes, and be done with it?Should she let things drift on to the inevitableend, yielding to the lassitude of mind and body
DURING THE LULL. 67which was stealing over her?Should she gainanother argument to use in a renewed appeal toher husband for the flight in which she sayv thesole prospect of safety,by providing herself withthe power of telling him a rupture had takenplace between herself and Dallas, and her powerof guiding him was gone ? <strong>The</strong> temptation wasstrong, but caution, habitual to her, instinctivein her, restrained her. Not yet, she thought;this may be my next move. George repeatedhis question:"Do you mean that you want to get rid ofme?""No," she answered, "I do not, George. Iwas only led into overstating whatIdo want,that you should conform to your step-father'sreasonable wishes. He has been generous toyou,be you just towardshim.""I will," said George warmly. "I wonderhow far he will carry his newly-found good will.Iwonder — " he paused; the name of Clare Carruthersyvas on his lips; in another moment heyvould have spoken of her toHamet.He wouldhave told her of the self-reproach, mingled, hoyv-
68 BLACK SHEEP.ever, yvith hope, yvhich daily greyv and throve inthe congenial soil of his sanguine nature; hewould have pierced Harriet's heart with a newsorrow, a fresh remorse, by telling her of anotherlife, young, innocent, and beautiful, involved inthe stonn about to burst,yvhose threatenings werealready sounding in the air. But it yvas not tolie — the name of Clare Carruthers was never tobe spokenby George toHarriet. Apparently shehad not heard his last words:her attention hadstrayed; she yvasvery wear}'." Imust go home," she said abruptly." Weare close to your mother's house.You hadbetter go to her now; she has returned fromher drive."" Let me see you home," said George ;"praydon't dismiss mein this yvay.""No, no," she said, hurriedly; "let me havemy oyvn yvay, please. You will come to me tomorroyv,andlet me knoyv your plans."She stood still,and put out her hand so decidedlyin the attitude of farewell, that he hadno choice but to take leave of her. <strong>The</strong>y partedon the shaded road, close to the garden gate of
DURING THE LULL.69Mr. Carruthers's house. As Harriet walked awaywith her usual rapid step, George looked afterher very sadly." She is fearfully changed," he said; " Iney-ersaw anything like it. SinceIyvent to Amsterdamshe might have lived tyventy years and beenless altered. Can it be that my uncle is right,that Routh ill-treats her? Iyvonder if there"sany truth in what those felloyvs said last nightabout him and Mrs.Ireton P.? If there is, it'san infernal shame — an infernal shame." AndGeorge Dallas opened the little gate in the wall,and walked up the garden with a moody countenance,on yvhich, hoyvever, a smile showed itself ashe lifted his hat gaily tohis mother, who noddedto him from the window above.His spirits roseunaccountably. <strong>The</strong> positive information whichMrs. Bembridge had afforded Mr. Felton relativeto his son's expected arrival had immensely relievedGeorge's mind.He yvas satisfied with theprogress of his novel; day by day his mother'shealth wasimproving. Hisprospects werebright.<strong>The</strong> distressing recollection of Deane, and theunhappy consequences of the tragedy, yvere be-
70 BLACK SHEEP.coming light and easy to him; sometimes he forgotall about it. If he could but win his stepfather'sconfidence and regard sufficiently to inducehim to pardon his clandestine acquaintancewith Clare, he would be altogether happy. Hoyvserene andbeautiful the yveather yvas! He stoodin the verandah,yvhich extended into the garden,bare-headed, and inhaled the sweet air yvith keenpleasure. His impressionable naturereadily threwoff care and caught at enjoyment." It's such a glorious afternoon, mother," hesaid, as he entered Mrs. Carruthers's sittingroom;" I'm sure you must have enjoyed yourdrive."" Idid, very much," his mother replied. " <strong>The</strong>air seems rather closer,Ithink, sinceIcame in.Ifancy yve shall have a storm."" O, no," said George carelessly. <strong>The</strong>n he" said: ShallIread you my last chapter? Iwant to postit this evening. It's a funny chapter,mother. Ibring in the queer old bookseller1told you about, yvho persisted in being his oyvnbanker."" Iremember, George. What are you looking
DURINGTHE LULL.71at?" He had taken up a letter from the tablebeside her, and wasscrutinisingthe address closely." Are you admiring the handwriting ? That is aletter from Clare Carruthers."" O," said George. And he laid down theletter, and went to fetch his manuscript. So itwas she who had forwarded Mr. Felton's letters—to him! Ellen must have asked her to do somust, therefore, have talked of him — have mentionedhimin some way.But had she done so ina manner to arouse any suspicion in Clare'smindof his identity ? Did Clare remember him ? Didshe think of him?she should know all ?Would she forgive him yvhen<strong>The</strong>se and scores of cognatequestions did George Dallas put vainly tohimself yvhile he read to his mother a chapter ofhis novel, which certainly did not gain in effectby his abstraction.It pleased the listener, hoyvever,and she knew nothing of his preoccupation;aud as he made the packet up for post he cameto a resolution that on the following day hewould tell Harriet " all about it," and act on heradvice.With nightfall the wind arose, and a storm
72 BLACK SHEEP.bleyv and raged over the little white town, overthe dark range of the Taunus, over the lightedgardens deserted by their usual frequenters, ancl,all unheeded, over the brilliant rooms where theplay, and the dancing,and the music, the harmlessamusement, and the harmful devilment yventon just as usual.It bleyv over the house yvhereHarriet lived, and raged against the windows ofthe roomin yvhich she sat in silence and darkness,except for the frequent glimmer yvhich yvasthrown into the apartment from the street light,yvhich shuddered and flickered in the rain andyvind. Hour after hour she had sat therethroughout the quiet evening during the lull,and when the darkness fell and the storm roseshe laid her pale cheek against the windoyv-paneand sat there still.<strong>The</strong> shaded roadswere deeply strewn withfallen leaves next day,and the sun-rays streamedfar more freely through the branches, and glitteredon pools of water in the holloyvs, and revealedmuch devastation among the flower-beds.Rain and wind had made a yvide-spread excursionthat night; had crossed the Channel, and rifled
DURING THE LULL.73the gardens ancl the yvoods of Poynings, andswept ayvay a heavy tribute from the grandavenue of beeches and the stately clump of sycamoreswhich Clare Carruthers loved.George had finished a drawing very carefullyfrom the sketch yvhich he had mode of the avenueof beeches, and, thinking over his approachingcommunication to Harriet, he had taken thedrawing from its place of concealment in hisdesk, and yvaslooking at it, wondering yvhetherthe storm of the past night had done mischief atthe Sycamores, yvhen a servant knocked at thedoor of his room.He put the drawing out ofsight, and bade the man come in. He handedGeorge a note from Harriet, yvhich he read yvithno small surprise.It told him that Routh had been summonedtoLondon, on important business, by a telegram— "from that mysterious Flinders, no doubt,"thought George, as he looked ruefully at the note— and that they were on the point of starting"from Homburg. Seven o'clock" was yvritten atthe top of the sheet. <strong>The</strong>y weregone then;hadbeen gone for hours. It yvas very provoking.
74 BLACK SHEEP.How dreary the place looked after the storm _Hoyv chilly the air had become! Hoyv much hewished Arthur yvould " turn up," and that theymight all get ayvay!
chapter ry.THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR.<strong>The</strong> storm which had syvept unheeded overthe heads bent over the gaming-tables at theKursaal that wild autumn night, yvas hardlywilder and fiercer than the tempest in StewartRouth's soul, as he, making one of the numberof the gamblers, playedyvith a quite unaccustomedrecklessness, and won yvith surprising sequence.This yvas earlier iu the night, when the powersof the air were only marshalling theh' forces, andthe elemental war had not extended beyond theskirmishing stage. Many times he looked impatientlyround, even yvhile the ball was rolling,asif expecting to see some one, who still did notappear; then he yvould turn again to the greenboard, again stake and win, and resume hiswatch.At length a touch on his elbow causedhim to look round in a contrarydirection, where
76 BLACK SHEEP.he sawa man standing,yvho immediately handedhim a note ancl went away. <strong>The</strong>n Routh smiled,read the words the note contained,smiled again,swept up the money yvhich lay before him,andleft the room. <strong>The</strong> battle had fairly begun ashe stepped out from the shelter of the portico,and, buttoning his coat tightly across his chest,and pulling his hat doyvn to his eyebroyvs, sethimself, with bent head, against the storm.Hisway led him past his oyvn lodgings, and as hetook it on the opposite side of the street, he saw,indistinctly, Harriet's figure, as she sat closebeside the window, her head against the panes.Something dreary and forsaken in the aspectof the yvindoyv, with its flimsy^ curtains wideapart, the indistinct form close against the glass,no light yvithin the room, made Routh shiverimpatiently as he looked at it; and just then thelight in the street flickered and syverved violentlyunder the influence of a sudden blast,which drove a sharp cascade of rain rattlingagainst the yvindoyv." Moping there in the dark," said Routh,with an oath, "ancl making things a hundred
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR. 77times yvorse, yvith her cursed whining andtemper."<strong>The</strong> Schyvarzchild mansion yvas near, and hewas soon removed asfar from all associationswith discomfort and dreariness as brilliant light,a blazing fire of odorous wood burning in aroom too large to be overheated by it,luxurioussurroundings, and pleasant expectation could removehim from such discordant realities.PresentlyMrs. Ireton P. Bembridge made her appearance.<strong>The</strong> room yvas a long one, and sheentered byr a door yvhich faced the chimneywhere he yvas standing. Much as he had admiredher, irresistibly as her beauty had captivatedhim yvith its ordinary charm of recklessnessancl lustre, yvith its rare, far-between momentsof softness and grace,he had neverreallyunderstooduntil noyv hoyv beautiful she yvas.Forthere was a mingling of both moods upon her asshe came towards him, her amber silk dress, withthe accustomed drapery of superb black lacefalling round her, and syveeping the ground infolds such as surely no other mere gown, madebv mundane milliner, had ever accomplished.
78 BLACK SHEEP.Rich purple amethysts were on her neck and onher wrists,and gleamed on the comb yvhich heldthe coils of her hair. Wax-lights in profusionshed their softened light upon her, upon thecream and rose tints of her brow and cheeks,upon the scarlet of her lips, upon the marvellousdarkness of her eyes; and the capricious blazefrom the burning logs shot quivering streaks oflight among the folds of her dress, glancingO c' O over the jeyvels she wore, and playing redly onthe hand which she held out, yvhile yet somosteps divided her from Routh, gazing at her inabsorbed, almost amazed admiration." Hoyv tired and pale you look!" she said,as he took the proffered hand, and she allowedhim to hold it. <strong>The</strong> yvords were sloyvly spoken,in the tone of solicitude for him, yvhich is oneof the most potent yveapons in a beautiful"yvoman's armoury. Sit there," she yvent on,drawing her hand gently from his hold anclindicating a seat, yvhile she settled herself intothe recesses of a huge German sofa. "Hoyvcould you imagineIyvould go to the Kursaalto-night ? Just listen !" She held her hand
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR.79up; a cloud of filmy lace fell back from thebeautiful round white arm. <strong>The</strong>n she droppedthe hand slowly, and yvaited for him to speak.He spoke yvith strange difficulty; the spell ofthe poyver of her beauty yvas upon him.was not what he had intended.ThisHe had meantto conquer, not to be conquered;to sway,not tobe ruled."I thought," he said, in a low tone, "youwould have come, because — I — Idid not knoyvyou yvould allow me thehappiness of cominghere."" Did younot? Ithink you don't understandme yet. Iwished to see you, you know, andIdid not wish to go out this evening. It is quitesimple,isit not?"" It is indeed,for such a woman asyou."She laughed.—"Is not that rather an awkward speechrather an equivocal compliment ?Hoyv posedvoulook!"She laughed again. Routh felt unspeakablyembarrassed; he had a sense of being at a disadvantage,yvhich was unpleasant. She saw it,and said:
80 BLACK SHEEP."What a temper you have! You'd be ratherhard to please,Ifancy, if one were in any sensebound to try.""Don't jest with me," said Routh, suddenlyand sternly,and he rolled his chair" deliberatelynear her as he spoke. You did not allow me,you did not invite me to come here to-night;you did not do this, yvhich seems so ' simple' toyou,because you are as much braver than everyother woman, as you are more beautiful," — helooked into her dark eyes, and their lids did notdroop, — " only to jest with me, only to trifle yvithme, as you trifle yvith others. You are a wonderfullypuzzling woman,Iacknowledge; noyvoman ever so puzzled me before. Each timeIsee you, there is something different, somethingnew in your manner, and eachtime it is asthoughIhad to begin all over again; as ifIhad not told you thatIlove you, as if you hadnot listened and confessed that you knoyv it.AVhy haveyou sent for me? You dismissed meyesterday with something yvhich you tried tomake look and sound like — anger ineffectually,for you yvere not angry.AnclI yvas prepared
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR.81for the same line of tactics to-day. Well, yousend for me.Iam here. You come to me athousand times more beautiful" — he dropped hisvoice to a whisper, and she greyv pale under thefixed fire of his eyes, — " infinitely more beautifulthanIhave ever seen you; and inyour eyes andin y-our smile there is yvhatIhave never seenin them; andyet you meet me yvith mere jestingwords. Noyv, this you do not mean; what is itthat you do mean?"He rose, and leaned against the mantelpiece,looking doyvn upon her bent head, with the lightshining on the jeyvels in her hah'. She did notspeak."What is it that you do mean?" he repeated.She had laid one arm along the cushioned sideof the sofa, the side near him. He clasped it,above the wrist, impressively, not caressingly,and at the touch, the yvords he had spoken to herbefore, " Would you not be afraid of a man yvholoved you with all the passion of his heart?"recurred to her, and she felt that so this manloved her, and that she yvas afraid of him." Idare say many others have loved you, andVOL. III.G
82 BLACK SHEEP.told you so," he continued, "andIdon't askvou how you received their professions. Iknowthe world too well, and what it brings to menand women, for any such folly. That is of thepast.<strong>The</strong> present is ours.Iask you why youhave brought me here? A woman yvho resentssuch yvords as thoseIhave spoken to you beforenow, does not give a man the chance of repeatingthem. You hayre not sent for me to tell me thatyou are insulted and outraged, to talk the cantof a hypocritical society to me.Ishould notlove you,beautiful as you are,if you yvere sucha fool."He saw that his audacity yvas not without itscharm for her; her head was raised now, and herdark eyes, looking up,met his looking doyvn, asshe listened, yvith parted lips and deep-drawnbreath." Be sure of this," he said," no man has everloy_ed you asIlove you,or been willing to stakeso much upon your love."<strong>The</strong> sinister truthwhich lurked in these yvords lent the sinisterexpression to his face again for a moment whichshe had sometimes seen in it. "How muchI
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR. 83stake uponit you yvill never know.am ready,Iam willing.You seeIam givinoyoutime.So be it.IIam not hurrying you into rashspeech.Idare say you were not at all preparedfor this yvhen you anclImet, and you took theinitiative in what you intended to be an ordinarywatering-place flirtation — while you were waitingfor Arthur Felton, perhaps ?" he said, savagely,for, as he went on, the savage nature of the manwas rising within him, ancl for all that his graspyvas on her soft white arm, and his gaze yvassearching the depths of her dark eyes, he yvasspeaking rather to himself than to her; ratherto the unchained devil within,than to the beautifulfatality before him." It is possible you had some such notion,"he said. "I don't ask you to acknowledge it,for if so, you have abandoned it." He stoopedlower, his eyes looked closer into hers. Sheshrank back, and covered her faceyvith herdisengaged hand. "Yes," he went on, in agentler tone, " Iknow you soon discovered thatIam not made for make-believes; and now —noyv that you have sent for me, andIam here,
84 BLACK SHEEP.what is itthat you mean?You cannot make methe pastime of an hour; yrou cannot shake off thehold yvhich such love as mine lays upon your life— would still layuponit yvere youafeebler yvomanthan you are. What then? Are you going totake the wine of life, or are you going to contentyourself yvith the vapid draughts you havehitherto drank ? You must tell me, and tell meto-night, what it is you mean; for a crisis in mylife has come, anclImust knoyv, yvithout palteringor delay, hoyv it is to be dealt with."He lifted his hand from her arm, and, standingdirectly before her, bade her look up anclspeak to him.She did not move. <strong>The</strong>n he satdown on a velvet footstool before her sofa, anddreyv her hands ayvay from before her face.<strong>The</strong>re yvere signs of agitation on it, and he readthem, not quite correctly perhaps, but to his ownsatisfaction." Listen tome," he said, in the gentlest tones"within the compass of his voice. Ihave a right— haveInot?— to ask you, to knoyv yvhat is yourmeaning towards me?here for ?What did you bring meRemember the yvordsIhave spoken to
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR.85you, not once only, or tyvice;remember the storyItold you on the balcony yonder; remember thetone you have occasionally adopted in all yourlevity, and then do not attempt to deny my rightto speak asIam speaking, and to demand your" You— you found me alone here— in my oyvnansyver."house — and — "" Absurd !" he cried." You are talking nonsense,and you knoyv it. Did you not intend meto understand thatIshould find you alone?Didyour note, your summons (I toreit up, but youremember the yvords as well asIdo), mean anythingelse?Do you not knoyv this is all folly.<strong>The</strong>re is no need to play yvith me. Iam a sureprize, or victim, yvhich you please;you know thatwell enough, andImust know which you doplease, for this is, asIsaid before, a crisis for me.Which isit?" he said,and he held her hands moretightly, ancl looked at her yvith a pale face."Which is it? Mere coquetiy — a dangerousgame with a man like me,I yvarn you — a gameyou yvon't find it possible to play; or— or thedeep, deep love of alifetime — the devotion which
86 BLACK SHEEP.will never swerve or falter — the passion yvhichwill blot out from your knowledge or your fearseverythingbeyonditself."Weak, imaginative, without principle, easilyruled by strength, though a despot to yveakness,the yvomanhe addressed listened to him like onein a dream. Not until afterwards did a sense ofbeing tricked and trapped come to her. Had herdemeanour towards Routh really implied all this?Had she yielded to the rapacity for admiration,to the thirst for conquest,which had ahvays dominatedin her nature, once too often, and far toocompletely? This was precisely what she haddone, and she hacl fallen into the hands of astronger being than herself. In a blind vague,groping kind of way she felt this, and felt thatshe could not help or deliver herself, and felt ityvith somethinglike fear, evenyvhile her imaginationand her vanity yvere intoxicated by the minglingof defiance and pleading in his words, in histones, and inhis looks."You and I," he went on, "would say toothers, would say to each other in some of ourmoods, or would have said when first wemet, that
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR. 87no such thing as this all-sufficing love exists,buteach of us knows yvell that it does, and may and■shallbe ours! This is what / mean.AgainIaskyou, what is your meaningin all this ?"" Idon't know," she replied, releasing herhands, and rising. He allowed her to pass him,and to walk to the fireplace. She stood there,her radiant figure glittering in the lustre of thefire and the wax-lights. She stood there,her headbent, her hands before her, the fingers interlaced.After a minute, Routh folloyved her, and stood" <strong>The</strong>n you will not ansyver me — you will notbefore her.tell me what your meaning yvas in sending forme to-night?"o<strong>The</strong>re yvas tenderness in his tonenoyv, and the slight inflection of a sense of injurywhich rarely fails yvith a woman." Yes," she said, looking up full athim, " Iwilltell you.Iwanted to let you knoyv thatIthinkof going away."" Going away!" cried Routh, in unboundedamazement — " Goingaway! Whatdo youmean?'"Just whatIsay," she replied, recoveringherself,and resuming her usual tone ancl manner
88 BLACK SHEEP.as soon as he released her from the spell of hisearnestness and passion — "Iam going away.don't treat you quite so badly as you try to makeout, you see, orIshould not tell you about it,orconsult you, or anything, but just go — go rightaway, youknoyv, ancl make an endof it."Routh's stern face flushed, and then darkenedyvith a look yvhich Harriet had learned to know,but yvhich Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge had neverseen. She did not seeit noyv, and continued:" Isent for you to tell you this.Idon't likeIthe place;I'm tiredof it. It's too small, and yetevery one comes here, and I'm talked of. Ah,Iremember allIyou sneer! Well,Iknoyv.have said about that, but it is one thing to betalked of in London or Paris, and quite anotherto be the object of the daily curiosity and themalice — "" You mean the envy-, don't you?" saidRouth."NoIdon't,Imean the malice; yvell theenvy, or the malice, or only the observation, ifyou like, of ahvays the samepeople, yy hornImeetin always the same places. Tliat is apart of myreason, but only apart. Idon't like Mr.Felton,
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR.89Idon't hke Mr. Dallas ;less than any people inthe yvorlclIchoose to have them to spy ancl overlookme; ancl — ancl — Idon't want to be herewhen that mancomes."Routh stood before her quite silent." Youknow— you remember," she said with asmile, "Arthur Felton.By the bye, you neednot make faces about my wearing his photographany more, for I've lost it — lost it beforeIgothome yesterday. In fact,Isuspect he isin sometrouble — perhaps in some disgrace — andIhave nofancy for being here yvhen he arrives, to have himquarrelling with meifIavoid him, ancl his father"regardingme yvith horror ifIdon't; so andhere she knelt on the yvhite rug and stretched outher hands to the — fire, which shone reflected in her"upraised eyes "soIam going to Shepaused, tantalising him." To ?" he repeated after her,almost in awhisper." To London," she said; and laughed ancl"looked at him, and rose. Now sit down, and letus talkit over, anclbe reasonable."Still quite silent, Routh obeyed her.His
90 BLACK SHEEP.manner, his look yvas changed.He was thoughtful;but an air of relief hacl come upon him, asif unexpected help had reached him from an unforeseenquarter.<strong>The</strong>re yvas no light in the yvindoyv, as Routhpassedithy,returning to his lodgings. But thereyvasalamp inthe hall,at yvhichhe lighteda candle,and went into the sitting-room.Harriet yvas still sitting by the yvindow; shedidnot raise or turn her head, and Routh thoughtshe yvas sleeping. He went up close to her,and thenshe languidly opened her eyes androse." Have you fallen asleep here, in the dark,Harriet ?" said Routh, " and without a fire! Hoyvimprudent ancl unnecessary!"" Iam not cold," she said;but she shiveredslightly as she spoke. Routh took up a shawlyvhich lay upon a chair and wrappedit round her.She looked at him,quietly but sharply." Don't be afraid;Iam all right to-night,Harry," he said."I've won a lot of money atthe tables, and I've been thinking over what we
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR.91were saying this morning — " He paused a moment,and then went on yvith some constraint inhis voice: " Ithink youareright so far, that thesooner yve get away from this the better.Iwillconsider the rest of the matter when we get toLondon."Harriet looked athim still, closely and sharply,but she said nothing." You are too tired to talk about anythingto-night, Harry,Isee," said Routh, yvith goodhumour which did not sit on liim very naturally," so yve yvill not talk. But would it be possiblefor you to be ready to start in the morning?"" Yes," said Harriet, quietly, and withoutshoyving the least surprise by voice or countenance," Iwill have everythingready."Homburg vonder Hohe yvas graced for only afeyv days longerby the beautiful American. Herpony-carriage and the gray ponies, the Frenchgroom, the luxurious wrappings, the splendidvision of satin, ancl lace, and jeyvels, all disappeared,and the Schwarzchild mansion was for awhile desolate, until again occupied by the nu-
92 BLACK SHEEP.merous progeny of a rich and rusty Queen'scounsel.It yvas understood that Mrs. Ireton P. Bernbridgehad returned to Paris. Every season is"the right season for Paris with those Americans,"said a contemptuous Briton, yvho secretly heldhimself aggrieved hy the abrupt departure ofthe handsome widow, who had never appearedmore than conscious of his existence, certainlynot interested in the fact; " it draws them like aloadstone."" She has evidently heard nothing of Arthur,"said Mr. Felton to his nephew, "or she wouldhave sentus word."He spoke timidly, ancl glanced at George withanxious eyes. Georgelooked uiidisguisedly seriousand troubled."I yvish your letters had arrived, uncle," hereplied." Ibegin to fear we shall not see Arthurhere; ancl — and to be sorry that so much time hasbeen lost."A yveek later George Dallas yvrote to HarrietRouth from Paris as follows:
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR. 93" Hotel duLouvre, Paris,October." My dear Mrs.Routh, — Iamhere yvith myuncle. My mother and Mr. Carruthers are travellingmore sloyvly. "W e are all to meet inLondon.Meantime a circumstance has occurredyvhich may- prove of great, and must be of someimportance to Mr. Felton and to myself. Iamcompelled to ask your assistance, whichIknowyou will give me with all your accustomed readinessand kindness." Accompanied by my uncle,Iyvent this morningto a jeyveller's shop in the Rue de la Paixto order the bracelet you know of to be re-madefor my mother.Ihad not previously undone thepacket containing the gold band and the turquoises,which yrou sealed up and kept in yourdesk for me, since the clay you gave it to me atHomburg. <strong>The</strong> things yvere wrappedupin letterpaper,you will remember. Iopened the packeton the counter of the jeweller's shop, shook theturquoises into a box he handed me for the purpose,and was holding up the gold band for himto examine, when my uncle, yvho was looking atthe paperIhad laid down, suddenly called to me,
94 BLACK SHEEP.and pointing to some writing on it — mere memoranda,apparently, of articles to be purchased (IencloseArthur's writing!'a correct copy) — exclaimed, ' That isIsaw at once that it yvashis writing,and determined to apply to you in thefirst place for information on the matter.It isnow clear that my cousin has passed underanother name than his oyvn, and that Routh andperhaps you have known him. <strong>The</strong>re is a date,too, upon the paper — 10th of April of this year.You took the paper out of the loyy-er division ofyour desk. You may be able to tell us all that yvehave so long been anxious to know, at once. Prayanswer this without delay. Ithink it best not towrite to Routh, because my uncle and he aroalmost strangers, and also, clear Mrs. Routh, becauseitcomes naturally to me to address myselfto you. How strange that all this time you andRouth should have knoyyai Arthur,and Irving inintimacy/ with you both, should have been in amanner seeking him! You will, no doubt, beable to tell us everything without an hour's delay;but,in any case, we shall be in London in ayveek, and shall have Arthur's portrait to shove
THE SEVERING OF THE HAIR. 95you.Iam sure this letter is very ill expressed,butIam still beyvildered at the strangeness ofthe occurrence. Write at once. My room is" Ahvays yours affectionately," George Dallas" P.S. Tliejeweller of the Rue de la Paix is aNo. 80.jewel among his tribe. He undertakes to replacethe diamonds,ancl, as far asIcan — judge— to be sure, it's only alittle way yvith stones justas. fine as thoseIsold atA , for a third lessthan the money his Hebrew Dutch confrl-re gaveme.Ihad amind to tell him the value of theoriginal diamonds, butIdidn't — the honestestof jeyvellers is only human, ancl it might tempthim to raise the price ancl not the value. ButIthink he recognised amaster-mind iu my uncle."
CHAPTER Y.MOVING ON.Unconscious of the inquietude of her brotherand of her son,happy in a reunion yvhich she hadnever ventured to hope for, still sufficiently weakenedby her illness to be preserved from anymental investigation of "hoyv tilings had comeabout," acquiescent and tranquil,Mrs. Carrutherswas rapidly- getting well. <strong>The</strong> indelible alterationyvhich her beauty had sustained — for it yvasbeauty still — the beauty of a decade later thanyvhen George had seen his mother through theball-room yvindoyv at Poynings — had touched hermorally as well as physically;and a great calmhad come upon her yvith the silver streaks inherrich dark hair, ancl the fading of the colour in hercheek.<strong>The</strong> relation betyveen George's mother andher husband had undergone an entire change.
Mr. Carruthers hadMOVING ON. 97been excessively alarmedwhen he first realised the nature of his wife'sillness. He had never comein contact yvith anythingof the kind, and novelty of any descriptionhad a tendency to alarm and disconcert MrCarruthers of Poynings. But he was not in theleast likely to leave any manifest duty undone,ancl he had devoted himself, with all the intelligencehe possessed (which was not much), and allthe heart (yvhich was a great deal more than heor anybody else suspected), to the care, attention,ancl "humouring" yvhich the patient required.From the first, Mrs. Carruthers had been ableto recognise this without trying to account for it,and she unconsciously adopted the best possiblemethod of dealing yvith a disposition like that ofher husband. She evinced the most absolutedependence on him, an almost fretful eagernessfor his presence, an entire forgetfulness of theformer supposed immutable law yvhich had decreedthat the convenience ancl the pleasure ofMr. Carruthers of Poynings were to take precedence,as a matter of course, of all othersublunary things. Indeed, it was merely in aVOL.III.H
98 BLACK SHEEP.technical sense that, as regarded the little worldof Poynings, these hacl been considered sublunary.Its population concerned themselves infinitely lesswith the " pricipalities ancl poyvers" than yvith theaccuracy of the temperature of Mr. Carruthers'sshaving-yvater, and the punctuality yvith yvhichMr.Carruthers's breakfast, lunch,and dinner yvereserved. It hacl never occurred to his loving anddutiful wife that any alteration in 'this principleof life at Poynings could possibly- be effected, andthus the more superficial faults of the characterof a genuinely worthy man had been strengthenedby the irresponsibility of his position untilthey bade fair to overpoyver its genuine worth.But all this has changed noyv, changed in afashion against yvhich there yvas no appeal. Mr.Carruthers yvas no longer the first. His hours,his habits,his occupations, had to give yvay to theexigencies of a misfortune which struck him onthe most sensitive point, and yvhich invested himyvith a responsibility not to be trifled with orshared. It was characteristic of him that he becameexcessively proud of his care of his wife.<strong>The</strong> pomposity and inrportance yvith yvhich he
MOVING ON.99had been wont to " transact his public business"yvas now transferred to his superintendence of hispatient; and the surveillance ancl fussiness whichhad made life rather a burdensome possession tothe household and retainers of Poynings impressedthemselves upon the physicians and attendantspromoted to the honour of serving Mrs.Carruthers. As they were, in the nature ofthings, only temporary inflictions, and were,besides, accompanied by remarkably liberal remuneration,the sufferers supported them uncomplainingly.It yvas also characteristic of Mr. Carruthersthat,having made up his mind to receive GeorgeDallas yvell, he had received him very well, andspeedily became convinced that the young man'sreformation yvas genuine, and would be lasting.Also,he had not the least suspicion how largelyhe yvas influenced in thisdirection by MarkFelton's estimate of the young man — an estimatenot due to ignorance either, for George hadhidden nothingin his past career from his uncleexcept his acquaintance yvith Clare Carruthers,and the strange coincidence yvhich connected him
100 BLACK SHEEP.with the mysterious murder of the 17th of April.Mr. Carruthers, like all men who are both weakand obstinate, yvas largely influenced by theopinions of others, provided they yvere not forcedupon him or too plainly suggested to him, butthat he yvas currently supposed to partake or evento originate them. He had not said much to hisyvife about her son; he had not referred to thepast at all.It was in his honourable,if narroyv,nature totell her frankly that he had recognised his error,that he kneyv noyv that all his generosity, all theother gifts he hacl given her, had not availed anclcould not have availed, while George's society hadbeen denied; but the consigne yvas, " Mrs. Carruthersmust not be agitated," ancl the great ruleof Mr. Carruthers's life at present was, that theconsigne yvas not to be violated. Hence, nothinghacl been said upon the subject, and after the subsidenceof her first agitation, Mrs. Carruthers hadappeared to take George's presence very quietly,as she took all other things.c.<strong>The</strong> alteration wliich had taken place in hiswife hacl tended to allay that unacknoyvledged ill
MOVING ON. 101yvhich had troubled Mr. Carruthers's peace, anclexacerbated his temper. <strong>The</strong> old feeling ofjealousy died completely out. <strong>The</strong> pale, delicate,fragile woman, whose mind held by the past nowwith so very faint a grasp, yvhose peacefulthoughts yvere of the present, yvhose quiet hopeswereof the future, had nothing in common withthe beautiful young girl yydiom another than hehad wooed ancl won.As she yvas now, as aloneshe wished to be, he was first and chief in herhfe, and there yvas not a little exaction or temporaryfretfulness, a single httle symptom ofillness and dependence, yvhich had not init infinitelymore reassuring evidence for Mr. Carruthersthan all the observance ofhis yvishes, andsubmission to his domestic laws, which had formerlymade it plainer to Mr. Carruthers ofPoyTiings that his wife feared than that she lovedhim.And, ifit be accounted strange and borderingonthe ludicrous that, atMr. Carruthers's respectableage, he should still have been subject to thefeelings tauntingly mentioned as the "vagaries"of love, it must be remembered that George's
102 BLACK SHEEP.mother yvas the only woman he had ever caredffor, and that he had only of late achieved thcloftier ideals of love. It yvas of recent date thathe learned to hold his wife more clear and preciousthanMr. Carruthers of Poynings.He was not in the least jealous of George.He liked him. He yvas clever,Mr. Carruthersknew; ancl he rather disapproved of clever peoplein the abstract.He had heard, and had noreason to doubt — certainly none afforded by hisstep-son's previous career — that literary peopleyvere abad lot. He supposed, innocent Mr. Carruthers,that, to be literary, people must be clever.<strong>The</strong> inference yvas indisputable. But George didnot bore him with his cleverness. He nevertalked about the Piccadilly or the Mercury,reserving his confidences on these points for lusmother and his uncle. <strong>The</strong> family party pairedoff a good deal. Mr. Carruthers and his wife,Mark Felton and his nephew. And then Mr.Carruthers had an opportunity of becoming convincedthat the doubts he had allowed to troublehim had all been groundless, and to learn byexperience that, happy in her son's society, truly
MOVING ON.103grateful to him for the kindness with whichhe watched George, she was happier stfll in hiscompany.To a person of quicker perception than Mr.'Carruthers, the fact that the invalid never spokeof her faithful old servant would have hadmuchsignificance.Itwould have implied that she hadmoreentirely lost her memory than other featuresand circumstances of her condition indicated, orthat she had regained sufficient mental firmnessand self-control to avoid anything leading directlyor indirectly to the origin and source of a state ofmental yveakness of which she was distressinglyconscious. But Mr. Carruthers lacked quicknessand experience, and he did not notice this. Hehad pondered in his stately way,overDr.Merle'swords, and he hadbecome convinced that he musthave been right. <strong>The</strong>re hacl been a "shock."But of yvhat nature? How, when, had it occurred?Clearly, these questions could not now,probably could not ever be, referred toMrs. Carruthers.Who could tell him? Clare? Haclanything occurred yvhile he had been absentduring the days immediately preceding his wife's
104 BLACK SHEEP.illness ?He set himself now, seriously, to thetask of recalling the circumstances of his return.He had been met by Clare, who told liimMrs.Carruthers was not quite well. He had gonewith her to his wife's room. She was lying inher bed. He remembered that she looked paleancl ill. She was in her dressing-goyvn, butotheryvise dressed.<strong>The</strong>n she hacl not been so illthat morningas to have been unable to leave herbed. If anything had occurred, it must havetaken place after she haclrisen as usual. Besides,she hacl not been seriously ill until a clay or tyvolater — stay, until how many days?It was on themorning after Mr.Dalrymple's visit that he hadbeen summoned to his wife's room; he ancl Clarewere at breakfast together. Yes, to be sure, heremembered it all distinctly. Was the "shock"to be referred to that morning, then? Hacl itonly come in aid of previously threatening indisposition?<strong>The</strong>se points Mr. Carruthers couldnot solve.He would question Clare on his return,andfind out yvhat she knew, orif she knewanything. In the mean time, he would notmention the matter at all, not even to his wife's-
MOVING ON.105brother or her son. Mr. Carruthers of Poyningshad the " defects of his qualities," and the qualitiesof his defects, so that his pride, leading toarrogance in onedirection, involved much delicacyin another, and this sorrow, this fear, this source,.of his yvife's suffering, whatever it might be, was asacred thing for him, so far as its concealmentfrom all hitherto unacquainted with it was concerned.Clare might help him to find it out, anclthen, if the evil yvas one within his poyver toremedy, it should be remedied;but, in themeantime, it should not be made the subject of discussionor speculation. Her brother could notpossibly throw any fight on the cause of his wife'strouble;he was on the other side of the Atlanticwhen the bloyv, let it have come from whateverunknown quarter, had struck her. Her son 1Where had he been?And asking himself this.question, Mr.Carruthers began to feelrather uncomfortablyhot about the ears, and went creakingup the stairs to his wife's sitting-room, in orderto diverthis thoughts as soon as possible. He sawthings by a clearer light now, and therecollectionof his former conduct to George troubled him.
106 BLACK SHEEP.He found his step-son and Mark Fulton inMrs. Carruthers's room. <strong>The</strong> day yvaschilly anclgloomy, ancl eminently suggestive of the advantagespossessed by an English country mansionover the most commodious and expensive of foreignlodging-houses. George hacl just placed ashawl round his mother's shoulders,and yvas improvingthe fastenings of the windows, whichwerein their normal condition in foreign parts."Mark has been talking about Poynings,"said Mrs. Carruthers, turning to her husbandwith a smile, " ancl says he never saw aplace headmired more, though he hacl only a passingglimpse ofit."Mr. Carruthers yvas pleased, though of courseit was only natural that Mr. Felton should neverhave seen anyplace more to be admired by personsof well-regulated taste than Poynings."Of course," he said, yvith modest admission," if you come to talk about the Dukeries, anclthat kind of thing, there's nothing to be said forPoynings. But it is a nice place,andIam veryfond of it,and so is Laura."He yvas rather alarmed, when he had said this,
MOVING ON.107to observe his wife's eyes full of tears.Tearsindicated recollection, and of a painful kind, hethought, being but little acquainted yvith the intricatesymptoms of feminine humannature, yvhichrecollection must be avoided, or turned aside, inapleasurable direction.Now George's cleverness yvas a direction of therequired kind,andMr.Carruthers proceeded toremarkthat George mustmake drawings for his motherofall the favourite points of vieyv atPoynings." <strong>The</strong>re's the terrace, George," he said," anclthe 'Tangle,' where your mother loves to spendthe summer afternoons, and there's the beechwood,from the hill behind the garden, ancl the<strong>The</strong>re are several spots you yvilllong avenue.like, George, and — and," said Mr. Carruthers,magnanimously, and blushing all over his notmuch withered face, like a woman, "I'm onlysorry you are to make acquaintance with them solate in the day."He put out his hand, yvith true British awkwardness,ashe spoke, and the young man tookit respectfully, and yvith an atoning pang ofshame and self-reproach. But for his mother's
108 BLACK SHEEP.presence, ancl the imperative necessity ofselfrestraintimposed by the consideration of herhealth ancl the danger of agitation toher, Georgewould have inevitably told his step-father thetruth. He felt all the accumulated meannessof an implied falsehood most deeplyancl bitterly,and might have been capable of forgetting eyrenhis mother, but for a timely warning conveyed tohim by the compressed lips ancl frowning broyvs ofhis uncle. As for his mother, neither he nor Mr.Felton could judge of the effect produced uponher by the yvords of her husband. She had turnedaway her head as he began to speak." I yvasjust going to tellLaura whatIthoughtof doing, if you and she approve," Mr. Feltonhastened to say. "You see,Iam getting moreaud moreanxious about Arthur, anclIdon't thinkhe yvill turn up here. Ithought if George anclIwere to go on to Paris and make some inquiriesthere — Iknow pretty well where he yvent tothere, ancl what he did. We need not make morethan a few clays' delay, and then go on to London,ancl join you and Laura there. What doyou say?"
MOVING ON.109"I think it would do nicely," said Mr. Carruthers.You and George would hardly like"ourrate of travelling under any circumstances."would have afforded any individual endowed withgood humour ancl a sense of the ludicrous greatamusement to observe the pleasure ancl importanceyvith which Mr. Carruthers implied theseriousness of his charge, ancl the immense significationof ajourneyundertakenbyMrs.Carruthers"of Poynings. We shall stay some timein town,"he continued, " for additional medical advice;and then,Ihope, we shall allgo doyvn toPoyningstogether."" Ihave secured rooms for George ancl myselfin Piccadilly," said Mark Felton,in a skilfully off-" Itwould never do for two jollyhand manner.young bachelors like him and me to invade SirThomas Boldero's house.ItEven" — and here Mr.Felton's countenance clouded over, ancl he continuedabsently — " even if Arthur did not joinus; butIhope he yvill— Ihope he will."Mr. Carruthers was singularly unfortunate inany attempt to combine politeness yvith insincerity.He had a distinct conviction that his wife's ne-
110 BLACK SHEEP.phew yvas a "good-for-nothing," of a different andmore despicable orderofgood-for-nothingnessfromthat yvhich he had imputed to his step-sonin hisworst days; and though he yvould have been unfeignedlypleased hacl Mr. Felton's inquietudebeen set at rest by the receipt of a letter from hisson, he was candidly of opinion that the longerthat young gentleman abstained from joiningthefamily party, the more peaceful ancl happy thatfamily party yvould continue to be.However,he endeavoured to rise to the occasion,and said he hoped "Mr. Arthur" wouldaccompany his father to Poy-nings, with not sovery bada grace considering.<strong>The</strong> diversion hacl enabled George to recoverhimself, ancl he noyv drew a chair over beside hismother's,and beganto discuss the times and distancesof their respective journeys, and othercognate topics of conversation. Mr. Carruthersliked everything in the planning and settlingfine,and it was quite a spectacle to behold him overthe incomprehensible pages of Bradshaw, emphasisinghishelplessness with his gold spectacles."Isuppose ten claysyvill see us all in London,"
MOVING ON.111he said to Mr.Felton, "if you leave this yvithGeorge to-morrow, and we leave on Monday. Ihave written to my niece. Sir Thomas and LadyBoldero never come to toyvn at this season, soIhave asked Clare to come up ancl see that thehouse is all comfortable for Laura.stay at her cousin's till yve arrive."Clare can"Her cousin's?" asked Mark Felton; andGeorge blessed him for thc question, for he didnot knoyv yvho yvas meant, and had never yetbrought himself to make an inquiry in yvhich ClareCarruthers yvas concerned, evenby implication."Mrs. Stanhope, Sir Thomas's daughter,"saidMr. Carruthers; " she yvas marriedjust afterwe left Poynings.""<strong>The</strong> young lady of whom Captain Marshmade such appropriate mention," thought George." Ihave no toyvn-house," continued Mr.Carruthers,with more of the old pompous mannerthanMr.Felton hadyetremarked inhim. " Lauraprefers Poynings, so doI; and as my niece camedov\ai only this spring, and has been detained inthe countryby several causes, yve have not thoughtit necessary to have one."
112 BLACK SHEEP." Ishould think you would find a town-housea decided nuisance," said Mr. Felton, frankly;** andif Miss Carruthers has Sir Thomas Boldero'sand Mrs. Stanhope's to go to,Idon't see that shewants anything more."" You forget," said Mr. Carruthers,in a quiettone, yvhich, nevertheless,conveyed to Mr.Felton'squick apprehension that he had made a grave mistake,ancl implied to perfection the loftiness ofrebuke — " youforget that Miss Carruthers is theheiress of Poynings!"" Ah, to be sure, so Ido," said Mark Felton,heartily, " andIbeg her pardon and yours; butat leastIshall never forget that she is the mostcharming girlIever saw in my life." And then,as if a secret inspiration led him to put the questionyvhich George longed to hear and dared notask, he said:" When is Miss Carruthers to arrive in London?"" Only three or four days before we shall getthere,Ifancy. My love," turning abruptly toMrs. Carruthers, as a happy idea struck him,hyyvhich her additional comfort might be secured,
" yvhat would you think of my desiring Clare toMOVING ON.113bring Brookes up with her?Should you like tohave her with you when you arein town?"Mrs. Carruthers turned a face full of distressupon her husband in reply to his kind question.It was deeply flushed for a moment, then it grewdeadlypale; her eyes rolled towards George withan expression of doubt,of searching, of misty anguish,whicli filled him with alarm, and she putout her hands with a gesture of avoidance."O no, no," she said,"I cannot see her yet— Iam not able— Idon't know— there's something,there's something."It might have struckMr. Carruthers anclMark Felton too, had they not been too muchalarmed to think of anythingbut Mrs.Carruthers'semotion, that when they both approached hereagerly, George did not attempt to do so. Herose, indeed,but it was to push back his chair anclget out of their yvay. Mr. Carruthers asked hertenderly what was thematter, but shereplied onlyby laying her head upon his breast in a passion oftears.In the evening, when Dr.Merle had seenMrs.VOL. III.I
114 BLACK SHEEP.Carruthers, had said a great deal about absolutequiet, but had not interdicted the purposed returnto England, when it had been decided that therewas to be no leave-taking between her and herbrother ancl son, yvho were to commence theirjourney on the morrow, Mr. Carruthers, sittingby his wife's bed, where she then lay quietlyasleep, arrived at the conclusion that the oldnurseyvas connected yvith the " shock."him acute pain.<strong>The</strong> idea gaveIt must have been, then, somethingwhich had some reference to his wife's pastlife, something in which he and the present hadno share.Very old, and worn, and troubled Mr.Carruthers looked as the darkness came on andfilled the room, and once more the night windarose, and whistled and shrieked over Taunus.He began to wish ardently, earnestly, to get home.It was very strange to look at his wife, alwaysbefore his eyes, and knoyv she had a terrible secretgrief, which had thus powerfully affected her, andnot to dare to question her about it. This freshconfirmation of the fact, this new manifestation ofher sufferings, after so peaceful an interval,had init something awful to the mind ofMr. Carruthers.
MOVING ON. 115<strong>The</strong> brother and the son, in their differentways, wereequally disturbed by the occurrence —Mark Felton in his ignorance ancl conjecture,George in the painful fulness of his knowledgeancl his self-reproach.Aud as Mark Felton'slook had alone arrestedGeorge's impulsive desire to reveal his knowledgeof Poynings to Mr. Carruthers, so the remembranceof all Routh and Harriet hacl said to himof the difficulty, the embarrassment, the probableclanger of an acknowledgment, alone arrested hisdesire to inform liis uncle of the dreadful errorwhich had caused his mother's illness.Mark Felton and George Dallas left Homburgfor Paris on the following day. <strong>The</strong>y hadseparated for the night earlier than usual, andGeorge had employed himself for some hours inwritinga longand confidential letter to his friendCunningham. It was addressed to that gentlemanat the Mercuryoffice, and it contained full detailsof every particular which he had been able tolearn connected with his missing cousin.<strong>The</strong>purpose of the letter yvas an urgent request thatCunningham would at once communicate with the
116 BLACK SHEEP.police on this matter, ancl it concluded yvith thesewords:"I cannot conquer my apprehensions, andIwill not yet communicate them to my uncle.But, mark this,Iam convinced we shall learnnothing good at Paris; and we have done verywronginnot putting the police to work long ago.Don't laugh at me, andcall meanovelist inaction.Inever felt so sure of anythingIhacl not seen asIam of Arthur Felton's having come to seriousgrief."
CHAPTER VI.PAUL WARD.<strong>The</strong> autumn tints were rich and beautiful uponthe Kent woods, and nowhere more rich or morebeautiful than in Sir Thomas Boldero's domain.<strong>The</strong> soft grass beneath the noble beeches wasstrewn with the russet leaves ahttle earlier thanusual that year, and somewhat more plentifully,for the storm hacl shaken them down, and haclevenrent awaya branch here andthere from someof the less sturdy trees.And then the forestermade his inspection, and the fallen branches wereremoved, and duly cut and housed for winter firewood,and it chanced that the hitherto forgottenlog on wliich George Dallas had sat one springmorning yvas carried away with them.Clare Carruthers missedit fromits accustomedplace as she rode down the glade yvhich she stillloved, though it had apainful association for her
118 BLACK SHEEP.now. Every day her eyes had rested on the ruggedlog,and every-day she hacl turned them awaywith a sigh. To-day it was there no longer, andits absence was a relief. She reined Sir Lancelotup for amoment, ancl looked at the vacant space-<strong>The</strong> earth lay bare and brown where the log hadbeen; there yvas no grass there." It won't be hidden until the spring," shethought, impatiently^. "I wish — IwishIcouldforget the place in yvhichIsaw him first!IwishIcould forget thatIever had seenhim!"<strong>The</strong>n she turned her head ayvay yvith an effortand a sigh, ancl rode on.Clare was going over from the Sycamores toPoynings. She had occasion to see the housekeeper,started early, ancl, as usual, unattended,save by Cæsar, who bounded along now by theside of Sh- Lancelot, anon a considerable yvayr inadvance, doing the distance twice over, after thefashion of dogs, and evidently compassionating theleisurely pace to whichhis equine friend and comradeyvas condemned.<strong>The</strong> months yvhich had elapsed since her inauspiciousmeeting among the beeches with Paul
PAUL WARD. 119Ward hacl had much inquietude and mysterioustrouble in them for the girl whose graces they hadbut ripened anclperfected, on yvhose fair face theyhad impressed a premature but very beautifulthoughtfulness. To one so young, so innocent,socarefully sliielded from evil,living in so pure andcalm an atmosphere of home, and yet aroundwhom the inevitable solitude of orphanhood dwelt,the presence of a secret cause of sorrow, doubt,perplexity, was in itself a burden grievous to beborne. Clare could not help dwellingperpetuallyon the only mystery which had ever comeinto hertranquil conventional life,and the more she shrankfrom the contemplation, the more it pressed itselfupon her. Sometimes, for days and yveeks together,the remembrance of it would be vague anclformless, then it yvould take shape again and substance,and thrill her with fresh horror, distracther yvith new perplexity.Sometimes she wouldaddress herself with all the force of her intelligenceto this mysterious remembrance, she yvouldarrange the circumstances in order and questionthem, and then she would turn away from theinvestigation cold and trembling, yvith all the ter-
120 BLACK SHEEP.rible conviction of the first moment of revelationforcibly restored.<strong>The</strong> dreadful truth haunted her. When SirThomas Boldero asked her ladyship if there wasany news in the Times each morning (for theSycamores was governed byother laws than thosewhich ruled Poynings, anclLady Boldero, who wasinterested in politics after her preserves and herlinen-presses, always read the papers first), Clarehad listened with horrid sickening fear for manyand many a dajr. But suspense of this sort cannotlast in its first vitality, andit had lessened,butit wasnot wholly dead evenyet. One subject ofspeculation frequently occupied her. Had he seenthe warning she had ventured to send him? No,she yvould sometimes say to herself, decisively-, no,he had not seen it. His safety must have beenotheryvise secured; if he had seen it, he yvouldknow that the terrible truth yvas known to her,and he would never have dared to recall himself toher memory. For he did so recall himself, andthis was the most terrible part of it all for Clare.On the first day of each month she received thecurrent number of the Piccadilly, and there was
PAUL WARD.121ahvays written on the fly-leaf, "FromPaul Ward."No, her attempt had failed; such madness, suchaudacity-, could not otherwise be accounted for.For some time Clare had not looked at the bookswhich reached her with this terribly significantimprint. She had not destroyed them, but shehad put them away out of her sight. One dayr,after her cousin's marriage, andwhen her thoughts— forcibly distracted for some time by the preparations,thehospitalities, and therejoicings attendanton that event — hacl flown back to the subjectyvhich had such tormenting attraction for her, asudden impulse of utter incredulity seized her.Nothing yvas changed in the facts, nothingin thecircumstances;but Clare laid aside reason underthe suddenly exerted power of feeling, and refusedto believe that Paul Ward had murdered the unknownman in whose company he had been, andyvho undoubtedly had been murdered."Iwont believeit!Idon't believe it!"<strong>The</strong>se words have often been uttered by thehuman yvill, when tortured by the terrible impotenceof human despair, as unreasonably, as obstinately,as Clare Carruthers spoke them, and
122 BLACK SHEEP.yvith infinitely more suffering implied in the inevitablereaction. But they can seldom havebrought greater relief. A generous, reckless impulseofyouth, partly against the terrible knowledgeof evil, partly against her oyvn suffering,yvhich wearied and oppressed her spirit, distant,vague, even chimerical, as she told herself it was,animated her resolution. She rose, and stretchedher arms out,andshook her golden head,as thoughshe discarded a baleful vision hy a strong act ofher will."I shall never see him again," she thought." Ishall never know his fate, unless, indeed, hebecomesfamous, and the voice of his renownreaches me.Ishall neverknow the truth of thisdreadful story-; but, strong as the evidence is,Inever willbeheve it more. Never, never!"Clare Carruthers was too young, too little accustomedto the sad science of self-examination,too candidlypersuadableby thenatural abhorrenceof youthfor grief, to ask herself how much of thisresolution came from the gradualinfluence of time— how much from the longing she felt to escapefrom the constant pressure of the first misery she
PAUL WARD.123had ever known. <strong>The</strong> impidse, the resolution,had come to her, yvith her first waking thoughts,one glorious morning in the early autumn — themorning which saw George Dallas and his unclearrive at Homburg, anclyvitnessedMr.Carruthers'sreceptionofhis step-son. This resolution she neverabandoned. That clay she had taken the booksout of their hiding-place, ancl had set herself toread the serial story yvhich she knew yvas writtenby him. Something of his mind, something of hisdisposition, yvould thus reveal itself to her. It wasstrange that he remembered to send her the booksso punctually, but thatmight mean nothing; theymight be sent by the publisher, by his order. Hemight have forgotten her existence by this time.Clare was sensible,and not vain, ancl she saw nothingmorethan a simple politeness in the circum-So she read the serial novel, and thoughtstance.over it; but it revealed nothing to her. <strong>The</strong>reyvas one description, indeed, yvhich reminded her,vaguely,ofMrs.Carruthers,as shehad been beforeher illness, as Clare remembered her, when shehad first seen her,years ago. Clare liked the story.She was not enthusiastically delighted yvith it. A
124 BLACK SHEEP.change which her newly formed resolution to believehim innocent,to chase from her all that hacltormented her, could neverundo, had passed uponClare, since her girlish imagination hadbeen readyto exalt Paul Ward, " the author," Paul Ward,■"the artist," as she had called him, with all thereverenceher innocent heart accorded to such designations,into a hero; she had less impulse inher now, she had suffered, in her silent unsuspectedyvay, and suffering is a sovereign remedyfor all enthusiasm except that of religion. But.she discerned in the story something yvhich madeher reason second her resolution. And from thatday Clare grieved no more. She waited, she didnot know for what; she hoped, she did not knowwhy; she was pensive, but not unhappy. Sheyvas very young,very innocent,very trustful; andthe story of the murder was six months old.Soyvas that of the meeting, and that of the myrtlesprig;and all three were growing vague.<strong>The</strong> young girl's thoughts were very busy as.she rode from the Sycamores to Poynings, but notexclusivelywith Paul Ward.Her life presenteditself in a more serious as-
PAUL WARD.125pect to her then than it hacl everbefore worn. Allthings seemed changed. Her uncle's letters toher had undergone a strange alteration. He yvrotenoyv to her as to one yvhom he trusted, to whomhe looked for aid, on whom he purposed to imposea responsible duty. <strong>The</strong> pompousness ofMr.Carruthers'snature was absolutely inseparable fromhis style of writing as from his manner of speech,but the matter of his letters atoned for their faultsof manner.He yvrote yvith such anxious affectionof his wife, he wrote with such kindly interest ofMr.Dallas, the hitherto proscribed step-son, yvhosename Clare hacl neyrer heard pronounced by hislips or in his presence. Above all,he seemed toexpect very much from Clare. Evidently her lifeyvas not to be empty of interest for the future, ifresponsibility could fill it; for Clare was to beintrusted with all the necessary arrangements forMrs. Carruthers's comfort, ancl Mrs. Carrutherswas very anxious to get back to England, to Poynings,and to Clare! <strong>The</strong> girl learned this withinexpressible gladness, but some surprise. Shewas wholly unaware of the feelings with wliichMrs. Carruthers had regarded her, and the inten-
126 BLACK SHEEP.tions of maternal care and tenderness yvhich shehad formed — feelings she had hidden, intentionsshe had abandoned from motives of prudencefounded on her thorough comprehension of thebesetting weakness of her husband's character.Clare had not the word of the enigma, and itpuzzled her. But it delighted her also. Instinctivelyshe felt there was something ofMark Felton'sdoing in this. He hacl impressed her asfav-ourably as she hacl impressed him. She hadrecognised his possession of the tyvo great qualities,feeling ancl intelligence, and her own kindred endowmentshadanswered to them at once.Was she goingto be happy ancl useful ?Wasshe going to be something more than the richMiss Carruthers, the heiress of Poynings, whohad every luxury life could supply except thatof feeling herself of active individual importanceto any living creature? Was Poynings goingto be as pleasant as the Sycamores, and for amore worthy reason? Clare felt in her honestyoung heart that the superiority of the Sycamoresconsisted principally in the fact that theuncle who inhabited that abodewas never in
PAUL WARD. 127her yvay, whereas the uncle yvho ruled at Poyningsyvas generally otherwise, and unpleasant.It was very ungrateful of her to feel this;butshe did feel it. Was all this going to be altered ?Was she going to have the sort of feeling thatmight have been hers if she had not been theheiress of Poynings, but the real, own daughterof a kind lady who needed ancl yvould acceptall her girlish love and eager, if unskilful, care?It must be so, Clare thought, now Mrs. Carruthershad her son with her, and she no longerfelt that there yvas injustice done to her, forwhich Clare was made the reason or the pretext,shewould allow her to be all she hadalwaysdesired to be. How much uselessness, unreality,yveariness, fell away from Clare Carruthersas she rode on, the beautiful healthful colourrising higher in her cheeks as the glad thoughts,the vague, sweet, unselfish hopes of the future,expanded in her young heart! She yvould tellMrs. Carruthers some day when she was quiteyvell when there should be no longer any dangerof doino- her harm by the revelation, about themyrstery which had caused her so much suffer-
128 BLACK SHEEr.ing, and then, when there should be perfectconfidence between them, she yvould tell her howshe had discovered that she, too, was acquaintedwithPaul Ward.Clare hacl never speculated seriously uponthe cause of Mrs. Carruthers'sillness.Her firstconvictions yvere, that it had originatedin some©trouble about her son. <strong>The</strong> old housekeeper'smanner, the removal of the portrait, had sufficedfor Clare.This was a sacred sorrow, sacred fromClare's curiosity, even in her thoughts. Andnow it was at an end,probably thanks to MarkFelton; but, at all events, it was quite over.In the time to come, that future yvhich Clare'sfancy yvas painting so brightly, as her horsecarried her swiftly over the familiar road, Mrs.Carruthers might even love her well enough totell her the story of the past, ancl what thatterrible grief hadbeen."I am to take Thomas up to town yvith me,Mrs. Brookes, anclIonly wish you were comingtoo," said Clare to the housekeeper at Poynings,as a concluding item of the budget of news she
PAUL WARD. 129had to tell. Clare was in high spirits by thistime. Mrs. Brookes yvas much more friendlythan usual to the young lady, whom she, too,had always regarded with jealousy, ancl almostdislike, as the enemy of George."Iambetter here,MissCarruthers," saidMrs."Brookes. Idaresaythere yvon't be much delayinLondon — forMrs.Carruthers and master,Imean.You'll stay awhile withMrs.Stanhope, belike ?"" O dear no— Icertainly shall not," repliedClare, yvith the prettiest air of importance.shall come down with my uncle and aunt." IMyuncle says we are to come as soon as the doctorswill let us go.""Ancl Mr. Felton, also, you say, Miss Carruthers?"" Yes, and Mr. Dallas. How delightedIam,Mrs. Brookes — how delighted you must be!"<strong>The</strong> girl's face flushed deeply. She yvas all glowingyvith the generous ardour of her feelings.She had taken off her hat, and was standingbefore the open window in the morning-room,her habit gathered up in one hand, her slightfigure trembling,her beautiful face radiant.CT D/VOL. IILK
130 BLACK SHEEP."I am sure it has been almost as hard foryou as for his mother. Icould not say anythingabout it before, Nurse Ellen" — it was the firsttime Clare — had ever called the old woman bythis name "because — becauseIkneyv nothing—no one ever told me anything, andImusthave seemed to blame my uncle. But, indeed,it pained me very much, and now — noyvIamso happy!"Bright swift tears sparkled in her goldenbrowneyes. She dashed them ayvayr, and, takingthe old woman's hands in hers, she said, withgirlish archness,"You must not hate me any more, NurseEllen, for 'Master George' anclIare going tobe very good friends."" Hate you,my clear young lady!" said Mrs.Brookes, who was too old to blush externally,"but who certainly felt like blushing. Howcan you have such fancies?you?'Who could hate" You— you dear, faithful old thing! Butit's all right now; ancl, Nurse Ellen," she said,"seriously, Iam sure we owe all this happy
PAUL WARD. 131change to Mr. Felton. <strong>The</strong> momentIsaw thatman,Ifelt he had come to do good. By thebye, my uncle tells me there is no news ofMr.Felton's son yet.Isuppose you never saw him,nurse?""La, bless you, no, my dear.Inever sawhis father till the clay he came here.Mr.Arthurwasborn in America."" Didhe ever come to England before ? DidMrs.Carruthers ever seehim ?""Never.He told his father he yvould seehis aunt the first thing he did, and he nevercame anigh the place. Idoubt he's a blacksheep,.Miss Carruthers."" Ihope not, for his father's sake,nurse."And then Clare proceeded to make variousarrangements with Mrs. Brookes, ' thinking the©yvhile: " Arthur Felton never was here.Carruthers never sayv him.©Mrs.For a momentIfancied he might have been Paul Ward."" Iwonder yvhatIshall think of GeorgeoDallas?" thought Clare as she rode away fromPoyningsin the afternoon,having given Thomasthe necessary orders. "I wonder what he will
132 BLACK SHEEP.think of me?Idare say he does not like theidea of me much. PerhapsIshould not likethe idea of him, if he were in my place anclIin his;but, as it is,Idecidedly do."Attended by her maid and Thomas, MissCarruthers went to London on the following clay.Mrs. Stanhope met her at the railway station,and took her home yvith her. <strong>The</strong> footman wasdespatched to Sir Thomas Boldero's house inChesham-place. In the course of the eveninghe Ment to Mrs. Stanhope's house, ancl asked tosee Clare. His errand was to inform her thatMr. Felton and Mr. Dallas had arrived in London,ancl were particularly desirous of seeingMiss Carruthers. He (Thomas) hacl Mr.Felton'sorders to ascertain fromMiss Carruthers whethershe would see them, on the following day, atChesham-place, and if so, at yvhat hour. He yvasto take her answer to Mr. Felton's lodgings inCT CTPiccadilly." When did the gentlemen arrive?" MissCarruthers asked.Thomas could not say exactly,but he thought
PAUL WARD. 133they had only just reached London,overcoats on,and looked " travellers-like."<strong>The</strong>y hadClare sent word toMr. Felton that she yvouldbe at Chesham-place at noon on the next clay,and would be very happy to see him.She didnot mention Mr. Dallas, but it was by no meansnecessary she should do so.Punctually at twelve on the following day,Mrs. Stanhope's brougham deposited Clare Carruthersat Sir Thomas Boldero's house.It yvasin process of preparation for the expected guests;but had not quite thrown off the droyvsy unoccupiedlook of a house yvhose owners are absent.Its appearance bore the same relation to thestate it would assume by and bye as that of anindividual who has just persuaded himself to rise,and is yawning and shivering in the process,bears to that of the same individual in his tubbed,dressed, shaved, breakfasted, newspaper-read,hatted, gloved,and ready-for-the-day- condition.Clare got out of the carriage, gave the coachmansome directions, stood at the door until hehad driven off, and made a remark or two (everreminiscent of Poynings punctiliousness) relative
134 BLACK SHEEP.to the area-railings and door-stepsto Thomasbefore she entered the house. He listenedgravely,promised to attend to these matters, and thensaid:" Mr.Dallas has been here some time,ma'am.""Indeed!" said Clare, pausing just inside thehall-door." IsMr. Felton not here ?"" He yvill be here directly, ma'am. He cameyvith Mr.Dallas, but went away again.IshowedMr. Dallas into the study, ma'am."Clare felt rather embarrassed. She wishedMrs. Stanhope had been with her — she wishedMr. Felton had remained until she came, or hadtaken his nephew yvith him. It yvas so awkwardto have to introduce herself to George Dallas,a stranger, and yet not exactly a stranger. Shehesitated;her colour rose. What should she do ?What was not the easiest or pleasantest thingto do — for that would be to go to the drawingroomand remain there until Mr. Felton shouldcome, leaving Mr. Dallas to a similar vigil inthe study — but the kindest. Clearly, to giveMrs. Carruthers's son the friendliest greeting inher power, to show him, in her little way, how
PAUL WARD.135pleased she was at the family reunion,how muchshe desired to be numbered among his friends.<strong>The</strong> study yvinclows faced the street; he hadprobably seen the carriage, and heard her voice.He might be evennow hurt by her tarrying.Clare delayed no longer. She crossed thehall, opened the door of Sir Thomas Boldero'sstudy, saw a man's figure close to one of thewindows, shut the door, took two or three steps,ancl said, in the sweet gentle tone which yvasoneofher peculiar charms:" Mr. Dallas,Iam so much pleased."<strong>The</strong>n the figure turned away from the yvindoyv,and Clare found herself in the presenceof Paul Ward.
CHAPTER VII.ANOTHER RECOGNITION.THE same clay which hacl witnessed the departurefrom Homburg ofMr. and Mrs. Carruthers, andthe commencement of the journey which hadLondon for its destination, beheld that city inan unusually agreeable aspect in point of weather.<strong>The</strong> sun was warm and bright; the sadnessand sweetness of autumn filled the air, andlent their poetical charm to the prosaic streets,and impressed themselves sensibly and unacknowledgeduponthe prosaic dwellers therein. Peopleyvho hacl no business or pleasure, or combinationof both, to call them abroad, yvent out on thatday, and rode or drove or walked, because therare beauty and charm of the day imperativelyrequired such homage. Women and childrenwere out in the Parks, and, but for the fallenleaves upon the ground, and the peculiar sigh
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.137which made itself heard now and again amongthe trees — a sound which the ear that has oncelearned to distinguish it never fails to catch whenthe summer is dead — the summer might be supposedto be still living.<strong>The</strong> brightest thoroughfare inLondon, Piccadilly,yvas looking very bright that autumn clay,yvith all the windows of the few houses yvhich canlay claim to anything of the beauty of grandeurglittering in the sun, and an astounding displayof carriages, considering the season, enliveningthe broad sloping road.<strong>The</strong> Green Park wasdotted over with groups of people, as in the summer-time,and along the broad path beyond theiron railings solitary pedestrians walked or loitered,unmolested by weather, just as it suitedtheir fancy. <strong>The</strong> few and far-between bencheshad their occupants, of whom some had books,some cigars, and some babies.Perambulatorswere not wanting, neither yvere irascible elderlygentlemen to swear at them. It was happily toohot for hoops.This exceptional clay was at its hest andbrightest when Harriet Routh came down the
138 BLACK SHEEP.street in which she lived, crossed Piccadilly, anclentered thePark. She was, as usual,very plainlydressed, and her manner had lost none of its ordinaryquietude. Nevertheless, a close observerwould have seen that she looked and breathedlike a person in need of free fresh air, of movement,of freedom; that though the scene, theplace in which she found herself, was indifferentto her, perhaps yvholly unobserved by her, theinfluence upon her physical condition yvas salutary.She did not cross the grass, but walkedslowly, and with her eyes turned earthwards,along the broad path near the railings. Occasionallyshe looked up, and lifted her head, asifto inhale as much as possible of the fresh air,then fell into her former attitude again, and continuedher yvalk.— Her face bore an expression ofintense thought the look of oneyvho had broughta subject out with her in her mmd, yvhich subjectshe was resolved to think out, to look at ineveiy aspect, to bring to a final decision. Shekept a straight, clear course in her yvalk, lookingneither to the right nor to the left, ponderingdeeply, as might have been seen by the
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.139steady tension of her low white forehead and thefirm set of her lips. At last she paused, whenshe had traversed the entire length of the walkseveral times, and looked about her for an unoccupiedseat. She descried one, with no nearerneighbour than the figure of a boy, not exactlyragged,but very shabby, extended on the grassbeside it, resting on his elbows, with a fur cappulled down over his eyes, leaving the greaterportion of a tangled head exposed to view, anda penny illustrated journal, whose contents, judgingby the intentness with yvhich he yvas devouringthem, must have been of a highly sensationalcharacter,stretched out on the ground before him.Harriet took no notice of the boy, nor did heperceive her, when she seated herself on thebench by yvhich he layr. She sat doyvn noiselessly,folded her hands, and let her head fall forward,looking out with the distant absorbed gaze whichhadbecomehabitual toher. She sat very still,andnever for a moment did the purpose in her facerelax. She was thinking, shewas not dreaming.rose.After a while, she looked at her watch, andAt the first step wliich she made on the
140 BLACK SHEEP.grass, and towards the railings, her silk dressrustled over the outspread paper from which theboy was reading. She looked down, apologetically;the boy looked up angrily, and then Mr.James Swain jumped up, and made the movementwliich in his code of manners passed for abow to Harriet." Ali, is it you, Jim?" she said." Are younot busy to-day ?"" No, mum,Iain't," said Jim." Mr.Routhhadn't no messages this mornin',andIain't beenlucky since."" It's a nice clay for you to have a little time"to yourself," said Hamet. Ihope you got allthe commissionsIleft for you."" Idid, mum, and thank'ee," saidJim. Harriethadremembered the street-boy when she wasleaving home, and hacl charged her servants toemploy him. She hacl not the slightest suspicionof the extensive use yvhich Routh wasin the habitof making of his services." <strong>The</strong> windows is to be cleaned," said Jim,"suggestively. <strong>The</strong>re warn't time, mum; youcome home so unexpected."
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.141" Very well," said Harriet." Isuppose youcan clean them, can't you?"" Mr. Harris said asImight try," returnedJim. Mr. Harris was the irreproachable manservantattached toRouth's modest establishmentin Mayfair.Harriet moved on, and Jim Swain stood still,lookingafter her. She was a puzzle to him, andan object of constant interest. By little and littleJim had come to knoyv a good deal about StewartRouth and his daily life, and he had abandonedthe first theory yvhich had presented itself to hismind, and wliich had owed its inspiration to theillustrated penny literature yvhich formed his intellectualfood. He no longer believed Harriet apersecuted victim of her husband's groundlessjealousy.For reasons of his own, equally strongand secret, Mr. James Swain had taken a livelyinterestin George Dallas, hacl experienced certainemotions on seeing him, and had taken verykindlyto the business of espionagein yvhichRouthhad engaged lus services, without affording himany indication of its purpose. At first the boyhad conceived an idea that Dallas was the object
142 BLACK SHEEP.of Harriet's supposedpreference and Routh's supposedjealousy,but he abandoned thatnotion veryspeedily, and since then he had not succeeded informing any newtheory to his satisfaction. Fromthe conversation of the servants,Jim hacl learnedthat Mr. Dallas and Mr. Felton, yvith yvhose personalappearance the boy was equally familiar,had gone to the same place in foreign parts asthat to which Mr. ancl Mrs. Routh had gone alittle later, and knowing this, Jim thought moreancl more frequently over certain circumstanceswhich he had kept to himself with extraordinary— discretion discretion, indeed, which nothing butthe strongest possible sense of self-interest, asinseparable from its observance, could have enabledhimto preserve." He don't like him," Jim would say to himself,with frequent repetition, " he don't like him,can't abear him;Iknows that precious well. Andhe can't be afraid of him, asIcan see, for hecertainly warn't neither in nor near that business,and I'm blest if he knoyvs anythin'about it.Wotever can he want to know all about him for,and keep a-follerin' him about?It ain't for no
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.143good as he follers anybody, I'll take my davy."And Mr. James Swain's daily reflections invariablyterminated with that formula, yvhich yvasindeed a simple and accurate statement of theboy's belief. His abandonment of his theoriesconcerning Harriet had worked no change in hismind towards Routh. His familiarity with Routh'sservants, his being in a manner free of the house— free, but under the due amount of inspectionand suspicion justified by his low — estate enlightenedhim as to Harriet's domestic position, andmade him wonder exceedingly, in his half-simple,half-knowing way, how " the like of her could bespoony on sich a cove as him," yvhich yvas Mr.James Swain's fashion of expressing his sense ofthe moral disparity between the husband andwife.This yvas the second time that Jim had seenMrs. Routh since her return from the trip yvhichhe had been told was specially undertaken for thebenefit of her health. <strong>The</strong> first time was on theday of her arrival, when Jim had fortunately-been" handy," and hacl helped with the luggage. Hehad made his observations then upon Harriet's
144 BLACK SHEEr.appearance with all his native impudence; forthough the element of suspicion, which lent hisinterest in Harriet something tragic, had diedout of it, that interest continued lively, but -hehad admitted that it was pardonable that sheshould look " precious blue and funky" after ajourney.But looking at her more attentively on thissecond occasion, ancl when there was no journeyin the case, Jim arrived at the conclusion thatwhatever had "ailed" Mrs. Routh before she lefthome ailed her still."Uncommon ill she do look, to be sure," hesaid to himself, as he crumpled up the excitingfiction wliich he hacl been reading, and yvhich" left off" at a peculiarly thrilling crisis, andwedged the illustratedjournal into his cap; "uncommonill. Wot's the good of all them bathsand things, if she's to come back lookin' like this— a deal worse, /call it, and much miserabler inher mind? Wotever ails her ?"At this point in his cogitations Jim began tomove on, slowly indeed, and keeping his eye onHamet, who had reached one of the gates of the
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.145Park opening into Piccadilly, had passed throughit, and yvas just about to cross to the opposite side.She stood for a moment irresolute, then turned,came through the gate again, and rapidly approachedJim,beckoning him towards her as shecame.She stood still as the boy ran up to her, andpointed to one of the smaller but much decoratedhouses on the opposite side of the way."Jim," she said, "you see that house, wherethe wide windows are, allone pane,ancl the brightbalconies there, the house with the wide door, anclthe heavy carved railings ?"" Yes, mum,Isee," said Jim," Go to that house, ancl ask if anything hasbeen heard from Mr. Felton.Ask when he isexpected — he has taken lodgings there — whetherany other gentleman is expected to come yvithhim — and,Jim, be sure to ask in particular whetherany letters have been received for Mr.Felton,and sent on to him."Jim Syvain looked at Harriet.<strong>The</strong>re wassomething strange as well as intelligent in thelook, but she saw only the intelligence. It har-VOL. ui.L
146 BLACK SHEEr.monised yvith the thought in her own mind, anclshe replied to it:" You think, perhaps, they may not like to telly-ou," she said. "Perhaps they may not. Butyou may tell whoever answers you that Mr.Felton's sister yvishes to know — " Jimstill lookedat her, ancl Harriet felt that he did so, but thistime she " did not catch his eye. "Be quick," shesaid, ancl bring me the answer y-onder." Shepointed to the bench on yvhich she hacl beensitting, ancl which yvas beyond the reach of observationfrom the house she had indicated, andwalked away towards it as she ceased speaking." It cannot be helped," she said." <strong>The</strong> risk is atrifling one at yvorst, ancl must be run.Icouldnot put Harris in communication yvith any oneon a false pretext, anclIcan trust this boy so farnot to say he has asked this question for me.Icannot bear it any longer. Imust know howmuch time there is before me.Imust have somuch certainty; if not,Ishall go mad."She had reached the bench now, ancl sat downin the former attitude." Once beforeIasked myself," she muttered,
"ifIyvas going mad. Idid not feel more likeitANOTHER RECOGNITION.147then than now — not so like it, indeed.Iknewyvhat he yvasdoing then,Ihad found him out.ButIdon't knoyv noyv— Idon't know now.Iamin the dark, ancl the tide is rising."Jim cameback from his errand. He had beencivilly answered by a woman-servant. Mr. Feltonwas expected in a feyv days; the exact day wasnot yet named.him.No letters hacl been received forHe had sent no orders relative to the forwardingof any. Having delivered his messageso far, Jim Swain hesitated. Harriet understoodthe reticence, and spared a momentarythoughtfor passing wonderment at this little touch ofdelicacy in so unpromising a subject for the exhibitionof the finer emotions."Did the person who answered you ask youany question ?" she said." No, mum," said Jim, relieved. Hamet saidno more,she knew he had not made the falsestatement yvhich had proved to be needless, andsomething assured her that there yvas no necessitythat she should caution Jim to say nothingconcerning this commission. Now she went away
148 BLACK SHEEP.in reality — went home.She ascended the stairsto her room, and looked at her face in a glass asshe took her bonnet off, and thought, " Iwonderif people can see in my face thatIam turninginto a coward, and am going mad?Icould notknock at that door and ask that simple, naturalquestion for myself — 7" could not; ancl a littlewhile ago, since — ay, long since — Icould havedone anything. But not now — not now. Whenthe time comes, when the waiting is over, whenthe suspenseis ended, thenImay be strong again,if indeedIam not quite mad by then; but now— nowIcannot do anything— Icannot evenwait."<strong>The</strong> fixed look had left her face, and yvas succeededby a painful wildness, and an expressionalmost like that of some present physical terror.She pressed her hands upon her temples androcked herself to ancl fro, but there was no yvildabandonment of grief in the gesture.Presentlyshe began to moan, but all unconsciously; forcatching the sound after a little, she checked itangrily. <strong>The</strong>n she took up someneedlework, butit dropped from her hands after a few minutes.
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.149She started up, and said, quite aloud, "It's nouse — it's no use;Imust have rest!" <strong>The</strong>n sheunlocked her dressing-case, took out a bottle oflaudanum, poured some of the contents into aglass of water, drank the mixture, ancl lay downupon her bed. She yvas soon in a deep sleep,yvhich seemed peaceful ancl full of rest.undisturbed.It wasA servant came into the room, butdid not arouse her, and it yvas understood in thehouse that "master" would probably not returnto dinner.Mr. James Swain turned his steps in thedirection of the delectable region in which hishome yvas situated.He was in so far more fortunatethan many of his class that he hacl a home,though a wretched one. It consisted of a dingylittle room at the back of the third story in arickety- house in Strutton-ground, and was sharedyvitha decrepid female, the elder sister of theboy's dead mother, yvho earned a frightfully insufficientsubsistence by shoe-binding. Moreprecariousthan ever yvas this fragile means of livingnow, for her sight was failing, as her strength hadfailed. But things had been looking np with
150 BLACK SHEEP.Jim of late, odd jobs had been plenty, his serviceshad reached in certain quarters the status of recognisedfacts, and the street-boy was kind to hisold relative. <strong>The</strong>y were queer people, but notaltogether uninteresting, ancl, strange to say, byno means unhappy. Old Sally had never beentaught anything herself but shoe-binding, or shewould have imparted instruction to Jim. NowJim had learned to read in his mother's lifetime,and before his father hacl "come to grief" andbeen no more heard of, and it was consequentlyhe who imparted instruction to his aunt.She yvasas fond of penny romances as theboy himself, andwas yvonderfully quick at discovering the impenetrablemysteries and unwinding the labyrinthineyvebs of those amazing productions. SoJim, cheered by the prospect of a lucrative jobfor the morrow, purchased a fresh and intenselyhorrible pennyworth by the way, and devotedhimself for the evening to the delectation of oldSally, who liked her murders, as she liked her teaandher snuff, strongly flavoured.<strong>The</strong> pennyworth lasted a good while, for Jimread slowly and elaborately, and conversational
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.151digressions occurred frequently.<strong>The</strong> heroine ofthe story, a proud and peerless peeress, waspeculiarlyfascinating to the reader ancl the listener." Lor, Jim," said old Sally, when the last linehad been spelled over, and Jim was reluctantlyobliged to confess that that yvas " all on it" — " lor,Jim, to think of that sweet pretty creetur,Rorer,"— the angelic victim of the story was known tomortals as Aurora, — "knowing as how her ladyship'ad been and clone it all, ancl dyin' all alonein the moonshine, along o' thinkin' on her mother'svillany."Ordinarily, when Jim Swain lay down on hisflock bed in the corner, he went to sleep withenviable rapidity;but the old woman's words hadtouched some chord of association or wonder in hisclumsily- arranged but not unintelligent mind; sothatlong after old Sally, inher corner of her littleroom, yvas sound asleep, Jim sat up hastily, ranhis hands throughhis tangledhair,and saidaloud:" Good Lord! that'sit! She's sure she knowsit, she knows he did it, and she hidin' on it,andkiverin' ofit up, and it's killing her."<strong>The</strong> stipulated hour in the morning beheld
152 BLACK SHEEP.Jim Swain engaged in the task of window-cleaning,not very unpleasant in such weather. Hepursuedhis occupation yvith unusual seriousness;the impression of the previous night remainedupon him.<strong>The</strong> back parlour, called, of course, the"study"in Routh's house, deserved the name asmuch or as little as such rooms ordinarily merit it.<strong>The</strong> master of the house, at least, used the roomhabitually, reading there a little, and writing agreat deal. He hacl been sittingbefore abureau,which occupied a space to the right of the onlyyvindoyv in the apartment, for some time, yvhenHarriet came to ask him if the boy, yvho yvascleaning the windows, might go on with thatone." Certainly," said Routh, absently;" he won'tdisturb me."It would have required something of moreimportance than the presence of a boy- on theother side of the window to disturb Routh.Hewas arranging papers with the utmost intentness.<strong>The</strong> drawers of the bureau yvere open on eitherside, the turned-clown desk was covered with
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.153papers, some tied up in packets, others open; alarge sheet, on yvhich lines of figures were traced,lay on the blotting-pad. <strong>The</strong> dark expressionmost familiar to it was upon Stewart Routh's facethat morning, ancl the tightly compressed lipsnever unclosed for a moment as he pursued histask.Jim Swain, on the outside of the window,yvhich yvas defended by a narrow balcony anclrailing, could see him distinctly, ancl looked athim yvith much eagerness while he polished thepanes.It was a fixed belief with Jim that Routhwas always " up to" something, and the boyT yvasapt to discover confirmation in the simplest actionsof his patron. Had another observer of Routh'sdemeanour been present,he might, probably, haveshared Jim's impression; for the man's mannerwas intensely preoccupied. He read ancl yvrote,sorted papers, tied them up, ancl put them away,yvith unremittingindustry.Presently he stretched hishand up to a smalldrawer in the upper compartment of the bureau;but, instead of taking a paper or apacket from it,he took down the drawer itself, placed it on thedesk before him, ancl began to turn over its con-
154 BLACK SHEEP.tents with a still more darkly frowning face. Jim,at the corner of the window furthest from him,watched him so closely that he suspended theprocess of polishing;but Routh did not notice thecessation. Presently he came upon the paperswhich he hacl looked for, and was putting theminto the breast-pocket of his coat, when he struckthe drawer with his elbow, and knocked it off thedesk. It fell on the floor, and its contents werescattered over the carpet. Among them yvas anobject which rolled -away into the window, andimmediately caught the attention of Jim Swain.<strong>The</strong>boy looked at it, through the glass, with eyesin yvhich amazement and fear contended. Routhpicked up the contents of the drawer, allbut thisoneobject, and looked impatiently about in searchof it. <strong>The</strong>n Jim, desperately anxious to see thisthing nearer, took aresolution. He tapped at thewindow, ancl signed to Routh to open it and lethimin. Routh, surprised, did so."Here it is, sir," said Jim, not entering theroom, but sprawling over the yvindow-sill, anclgroping yvith his long hands along the border ofarug whichsheltered the object ofRouth's search
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.155from his observation — "here it is, sir.Isee itwhenit fell, andIknowed you couldn't seeit fromwhere you yvas."<strong>The</strong> boy looked greedily at the object in hishand, ancl rolled it about once or tyyice before hehandedit to Routh, who took it from him with acareless "Thank 'you." His preoccupied mannerwas still upon him. <strong>The</strong>n Jim shut down thewindow again from the outside, and resumed hispolishing. Routh replaced the dravvrer. Jimtried very- hard to see where he placed the objecthe had held for a moment in his hand, but hecould not succeed. <strong>The</strong>n Routh locked thebureau, and, opening a door of communicationwith the dining-room, Jim caught a momentarysight of Harriet sitting at the table, and yvent tohis breakfast.<strong>The</strong> seriousness of the previous night hadgrovvrn and deepened over the boy-. Abandoningthe pursuit of oddjobs precisely at the hour of theday when he usually found them most plentiful,Jim took his yvay homeyvards with headlong speed.Arrived yvithin sight of the yvretched houses, hepaused. He did not wish any one to see what he
156 BLACK SHEEP.yvas goingto do. Fortune favoured him. As he© ©stood irresolute at one end of the narrow street,his aunt came out of the door.She yvas going,he knew-, to do her humble shopping, yvhich consisted,for the most part, in haggling with costermongersby- the side of their carts, and cheapeningpoor vegetables at the stalls. She yvould not hecoming back just yet. He waited until she hadturned the opposite corner, and then plunged intothe open doorway and up the darkstaircase.Arrived at the room which formed his sole habitation,Jim shut the door, and unceremoniouslypulled away his flock bed,rolledup neatly enoughin a corner, from the wall. This wall wascovered with a paper once gaudy, now drearywitli the utter dreariness of dirt charged on brightcolour, ancl had a wooden surbase about a foot indepth. Above the surbase there yvas a hole, notso large as to be easily remarked in aplace yvheredilapidation of every sort was the usual state ofthings, and into this holeJim insinuated his hand.<strong>The</strong>re was suggestive dexterity in the wayhe didthis; the lithe fingers had suppleness ancl readiness,swiftness ancl accuracy of touch, yvhich, if
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.157there had been any one to care for the boy, thatone would doubtless have noticed with regret. Ifhe were not already a thief, Jim Swain possessedsome of the physical requisites for that profession.Presently he withdrew the lithe hand, and lookedsteadfastly at the object which it had extractedfrom the hole in the wall. He turnedit over anclover, he examined it within and yvithout, then heputit back again in the hiding-place, and replacedhis bed.Old Sally was much surprised, when she returnedfrom her " marketing," to find her nephewat home. <strong>The</strong> apparition of Jim in the daytime,except on stray occasions, when, fortune being unpropitious,he yvould come home to see what hisaunt could do for him in the way of dinner, wasexceedingly rare. But he explained it now bysaving he was tired, and had been well paid for ajob he had done that morning.He proposed thathe should get something choice that clay for dinner,and stay " in" until evening." <strong>The</strong>re's a newplay at the 'Delphi to-night,"" said Jim, and there'll beplenty of jobsdown thatway, callin' cabs ancl helpin' visitors to the hup-
158 BLACK SHEEP.per circles, as can't afford 'em, across the street.<strong>The</strong>y're awful bewildered,mostly, when they comeout of the theayter, and dreadful timid of the'busses."Very silent, and apparently sleepy, yvas Mr.James Swain all day; and as his old aunt satpatiently toiling by the window, he lay upon hisbed, with his knees up, and his hands crossed onthe top of his tousled head. Alloyving for the differencecreated by refinement, education, and thehabit of thinking on a system, only possible to theeducated, there yvas some resemblance in the expressionof the boy's face to that yvhich HarrietRouth's had worn yesterday, when she had carriedthe burden of her thoughts, under the clear skyand the sunshine,in the Green Park. Jim Swain,too, looked as if he alone, unaided as she, wasthinkingit out.<strong>The</strong>newplay at the Adelphi was very successful.<strong>The</strong> theatre was crowded; the autumnalventure had turned out admirably; ancl thoughthe audience could not be called fashionable,it wasperhaps rather more animated ancl satisfactory in
consequence.were realised.ANOTHER RECOGNITION.159Jim Swain's most sanguine hopes<strong>The</strong> night was fine; people didnot mind waiting a few minutes; good humourand threepenny-pieces were abundant.A tolerablesprinkling of private carriages relieved theplebeian plenitude of cabs, and these vehicleswere called up with an energy to yvhich, in theseason, human nature yvould hardly have beenequal. Jim was extremely- active in summoningthem, and had just returnedbreathless to the porticoofthe theatre to catch another name, and rushaway again to proclaim it to the listening flunkies,when he was arrested by the sight of a gentlemanwhose face he knew, yvho yvasstanding under thegarish light of the entry with a lady, whose handrested on his arm, ancl whose face was turned upwardtowards him, so that the full glare of thelight fell upon it. Her tall figure, the splendourof her dress, the careless grace of her attitude, theappearance of unconsciousness of the general observationshe — yvas attracting, even in that selfengrossedcrowd pardonably self-engrossed, consideringthat it was occupied with the care ofgetting home as soon as possible — would have
160 BLACK SHEEP.made her a sufficiently remarkable object to attractJim's attention;but there yvas more thanperception of all these things in the look yvhich hefixeduponher. He stood still,alittle in the shade.Routh did not see him. <strong>The</strong> lady was — lookingathim, and he saw nothing but her face nothingbut the brilliant dark eyes, so bright for all theworld, so soft for only him; nothing but the crimsonlips, yvhich trembled;the rose-tinted cheek,yvhich paled only at his words — only under hisglance.Her carriage was called. SheCTwalked tovrardsit with her dress sweeping round her, ancl theother people fell back, and let her pass, naturally,and not by the urgency of the dingy- officials yvhobrawl and fight on such occasions. When she hadtaken her seat in the carriage, Routh folloyved her,and then Jim started forward. <strong>The</strong>re was nofootman, so the man with the badge and the lantern,wellknown and prized of unprotected femaleswith a tastefor theatre-going, asked, " Where to?"Jim, quite close, and totally unobserved, " listenedeagerly-. <strong>The</strong> lady's voice replied, Home.""Home," said the man with the lantern, and
ANOTHER RECOGNITION.161instantly turned his attention to the next departures.Jim Swain glanced at the carriage;it hadno rumble, only a footboard.As it drove offslowly, for the Strand was crowded, he dashedinto the jumble ofcabs and omnibuses and followedit,running desperately, but dexterously too, andsucceeded in keeping up yvith it until, at a pointof comparative obscurity, he clambered up on thefootboard.<strong>The</strong> carriage rolled westward, and earned JimSwain yvith it until it reached one of the small socalledsquares which are situated between BromptonproperandChelsea. <strong>The</strong>n it stopped before ahouseyvith aheavystone portico and aheavy stonebalcony.Jim slidlightly to the ground, ancl hidhimselfin the shelter of the heavy stoneportico ofthe adjoining house.Routh got out of the carriage;and when the house-door yvas opened, ancla flood of light issued from it,he handed out thelady. She stood breathing the sweet air amoment,and the light once more touched her face and herdress with a rich radiance." It's her," saidJim." It's her— her and him."" What a lovely night!" said Mrs. Ireton P.VOL. III.M
162 BLACK SHEEP.Bembridge, and then the door closed on her andRouth, andJim stood still in his hiding-placeuntilthe carnage had slowly departed to the adjacentmews.<strong>The</strong>n he emerged from the portico, wentup the steps of the house the lady ancl her companionhadentered, and looked at the number outhe door, distinctly visible by the light of the gasjetwithin." Number four," said Jim; " now for the nameof the square;" and he crossed the road, skirtedthe railings of the enclosed patch of brown groundand stunted shrubs,and took the opposite side ofthe way. <strong>The</strong> night was clear and bright, and thenameof the square was distinctly legible." Hollington-square," said Jim." <strong>The</strong>y calledMrs.Bembridge's carriage.Ihave not a badheadfor names, butI'llget Teddy Smith to write thesedown. AndIcan't stand it any longer;Imustdo something. I'll try and getMr.Dallas to letme speak to him when he comes from abroad, andthenI'lltell him all about it.Isuppose," saidJimveryruefully, "if he thinks right totell, they'll lagme;but it can't be helped. Almost every one asI've knowed gets lagged some time or other."
CHAPTER VIILTHE FALLING OF THE SWORD.Stewart Routh left his house in Mayfair at anearly hour on the day following that which hadwitnessedthe eccentric proceedingsancl subsequentresolution of Jim Swain. Things wereprosperingwith him; and the vague dread yvhich hacl fallenon him had been dissipated. Hope and defiancedivided his mind between them. His speculationswereall doing well; therewasmoney to be had —money easytobe realised,onwhich he couldlay hishandatvery shortnotice,anclthere yvas triumphantsuccessful love. So much had hope to feed — onassuredly no insufficient aliment. Defiance reareditself against Fate. <strong>The</strong> time was drawing near,approaching yvith fearfully- rapid strides, whenthe contingency, long contemplated, successfullyeluded for a period beyond his expectation, keptoff by such unlikely accidents and combinations as
164 BLACK SHEEP.might almost have justified his daring faith in hisluck, but recognised of late as inevitable, must berealised when the identity of the murdered manmust be known, and the perilous investigationmust begin. So be it, he yvas ready to meet theclanger if it must be met; but he hoped no suchnecessity would arise. His influence oyrer thebeautiful womanwhom he now really- loved withall the passion he hacl at first feigned yvas becomingevery- day stronger and more complete.He kneyv that the strength of his nature hadsubdued her; she had no pride, she had onlyvanity; ancl Stewart Routh made the mistaketo which selfish and interestednatures are prone.He forgot to calculate upon the influence ofselfishness and calculation when their employmust necessarily be in opposition to him. Hisegotism injured the balance of his intellect, andnow he had not the aid of Harriet's calm, cool,unerring judgment in his scheme to restore thatbalance. His position with regard toHarriet wasthe most troublesome topic of his thoughts justnow. He tried to forget it often,but he did notsucceed; not that any sentimental obstacle to the
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.165most complete oblivion presented itself.Routhnever bestowed abackward glance upon the lifeof self-sacrifice and devotion to him, of fidelityyvhich, hoyvever depraved in its manifestations,was still fidelity, fond and true as the best manwho everlived an honest ancl virtuous fife in theface of heaven and earth might be proud to inspire,yvhich had been that of the woman whomhe had deliberately betrayed, and was now prepareddeliberately to abandon. He would havesneered at such a suggestion as a contemptibleweakness. Harriet had been undeniably usefultohim.He did not attempt to deny the fact tohimself;but circumstances had arisen yvhich preventedhis making use of her in the future, andconsequently, as this instrument wasunfortunatelyliving, intelligent, peculiarly acute, and animatedby one of the strongest of human passions, hadbecome dangerous. Harriet had been agreeabletohim — too it has been said that he had lovedherafter his fashion; but this had been all overmonths ago; and the deadest of all mortal things,to a man of Stewart Routh's stamp, is a deadlove;it has not even the dreary faculty of ghost-
166 BLACK SHEEP.— liness it cannot haunt. <strong>The</strong> uncomplaining,active, hard-working, inventive,untiring comrade,the passionately lov-ing wife, the shrewd, unscrupulous,undaunted, steel-nerved colleague, wasnothing more to him now than a dangerouslysharp-witted, suspicious woman, yvho knew a greatdeal toomuch about him, ancl yvas desperatelyinhis yvay. <strong>The</strong> exhilaration of his spirits and thepartial intoxication of his new passion had cloneaway yvith the fear of Harriet which hacl takenpossession of him, but they had intensified his dislike,and one thought presented itself withpeculiardistinctness to Stewart Routh as he went Citywardsthat morning. It was:" Ifit yvas only to get out of her sight, to berid of her for ever, what areliefit yvould be!"He had been at some pains to keep up appearancewith his wife since theh- return to London.To the step yvhich he meditated a quarrelwith her was in no yvay necessary; ancl in theevent of his failing tobring his plans to maturitybefore theinevitable discovery-,it yvas allimportantthat they shouldbe agreed on the Ime of action tobe taken.Harriet could not,indeed, oppose him
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.167successfully in his determination, if the occasionshould arise, to throw the charge of the murder/ ©upon George Dallas;but shemight render hispositionextremely-perilous if she did not second him.What reasonhad he to fear ?<strong>The</strong> estrangementbetween them had been growingyvider,it was true,but it had not been exclusively of his making; shehad held aloof from him as much as he from her,and he acknowledged that, if no infidelity hadexisted upon his part, it would still have takenplace. From the moment they ceased to be comradesin expedients, and became accomplices incrime, the consequences made themselvesfelt.Routh did not believe in blessings or in curses,but he did not dispute the inevitable result oftwo persons finding out the full extent of each—other's yvickedness that those two persons, ifobliged to five together,yvill find it rather uncom-© © 7fortable. <strong>The</strong> yvorst accomplice a man can hayreis his wife, he had often thought; yvomen ahvay-shave some scruple lurking somewhere aboutthem, a hankering after the ideal, for the possibilityof respecting a man in some degree.When he had been forced to see and to believe in
168 BLACK SHEEP.the intensity of his wife's silent sufferings, it hacloccurred to him more than once to think, "sheyvould not be so miserable if she had done it herself;she yvouldhave been much jollier. Nothingever will cure someyvomen of sentiment."Didit eyrer occur to him that it had not beenworth his while to do what he had done ? that, onthe whole,it had not paid? No, never. Routhhad been angry with Harriet when the matter hadbeen brought up betyveen them, had complainedthatit was ahvays " cropping up;" but the truthwas, he thought of it himself much more frequentlythanit yvas impressed onhimby any allusionfrom without; anclhe neverceased to remindhimself that the deed had been necessary, indispensable.It had broughthim money whenmoneymust have been had, or all must have ended forhim; it had brought him money when moneymeant a clearing and brightening of his sky,an utter change hi his life, the cessation of ahazardous and ignoble warfare, the restoration toapeaceful anclcomparatively safe career. He wasin a difficult position now, it yvas true — a positionin which there was peril to be surmounted only
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.169by dauntlessness, prudence, and coolness; but hewas dauntless, prudent, and cool. Had all thisnever been, what might have been his position ?When Deane and he had met,his luck had beenalmost at its lowest; and, in the comradeshipyvhich had ensued, there had always been burninganger and intense humiliation on Routh's part,ancl cold, sneering,heartless boasting on Deane's.Routh was the cleverer man of the tyvo, and incomparablythe greater villain; but Deane hadelements of rascalityinhim which even Routh hadfelt himself entitled to despise. And hehad hatedhim. Routh, in his cool manner of thinkingtilings over, had not failed to take this feelinginto due account.He would not have killedDeane only because he hated him; he was tootrue to his principles to incur so tremendous arisk for the simple gratification of even the worstsentiment, of even sentiment intensified into apassion, but he allowed it sufficient weight andinfluence effectually to bar the entrance of a regretwhen the larger object had also beenattained.He had no pity for his victim, not even the physicalsensation yvhich is experienced by men whose
170 BLACK SHEEP.organisation and associations are not of the brutalkind, when temper, circumstances, or suddentemptation have impelled them to deeds of cruelty;he had hated Deane toomuch for that. Heneverthought of the crime he hacl committed withoutdwelling on the conduct yvhich had made him resolveupon it. How the manhad played yvith hisnecessities, hacl tricked him with compromisingconfidences, hacl duped him with false promises,hacl led him to the very- brink of the abyss, anclthere had struggled v\ith him — yvith him,a desperateman! Fool — fool!one must go over thebrink, then;ancl who should it be but the weaker?who should hold his ground but the stronger —but he yvho had everything to gain?He thoughtover all those things again to-day, methodically,arranging the circumstances as they had occurredin his mind.He recalled the hours of suspensethrough yvhich he had lived on that day whenDeane had promised tobring himasum of money,representinghis own interest in the mining company,yvhich sum was to secure to Routh the positionhe hacl striven hard to attain, and rescue himfrom the consequences of a fraudulent transfer of
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.171shares which he had already effected. It hadcome to a question of hours, and the impatienceand suspensehad almost worn out Routh's strongnerves, almost deprived him of his self-command.How well he remembered it;how he lived throughall that time again! It had never been so vivid inhis remembrance, with all the vitality of hate andanger, often as he had thought of it, as it wasto-day.<strong>The</strong> heartless trifling, the petty insolence ofthe rich rascal, who little guessed the strengthand resolution,the daring and desperation, of thegreater, if worse, villain, came back as freshly toSteyvart Routh's vindictive memoiy as if he hadnot had his ghastly revenge ancl his miserabletriumph months ago, as if he had suffered andwinced under them but yesterday. And that yesterday!What a glorious day in his fife it hadbeen! Presently he yvould think about that, anclnothing but that; but noyv he must pursue histask of memory to the end.own master in this.For he yvas not hisOnce set to thinking of it,to living it all over again, he had no power toabridge the history.
172 BLACK SHEEP.He hacl to remember the hours during whichhe had waited for Deane's coming, for the paymentof the promised money;he had to rememberhow they yvaned, and left him sick with disappointment,maddened with apprehension;howhe had determined he yvould keep the second appointmentwith Deane: he did not fear his failingin that, because it yvas for his own pleasure;and then, for the first time in his life, had feltphysically unable to endure suspense, to keep upappearances. He had to remember how he hadshrunk from the coarse insolence with which heknew Deane would sport with his fears and hissuspense in the presence of George Dallas, unconsciousof their mutual position; how all-importantit was that, until he had wrung fromDeane the promised money, he should keep histemper.He had to remember how the idea thatthe man who had so far broken faith with himalready-, and might break faith with him altogether,and so ruin him utterly (for if he hadfailed then, and been detected, hope would havebeen at an end for him), yvas within a few yardsof him, perhaps with the promised money in his
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.173pocket at that moment, hacl occurred to him witha strange fascination.How it hacl intensified hishatred of Deane; hoyv it had deepened his senseof his own degradation; how it had made himrebel against and curse his ownpoverty-, ancl filledhis heart with malediction on the rich man whoowned that money yvhich meant safety and successto him.He had to remember how Deanehad given no ansyver to his note, temperatelyyvorded ancl reasonable (Harriet had kept to theletter of the truth in what she had said of it toGeorge Dallas), but had left him to all the torturesof suspense. He had to remember hoyv thedesire to know- whether Deane really had had alldayin his possession the money he had promisedhim, and had kept him expecting, greyv imperative,implacable, irresistible; how he had hungabout the tavern,and discovered byDeane's boastingwords to his companion that he had guessedaright, had followed them, determined to have ananswer from Deane. He had to remember howhe strove with anger, with some remnants of hisformer pride, which tortured him yvith savageIon
174 BLACK SHEEP.the purlieus of the billiard-rooms whither DeaneandDallas and gone. Heremembered how lonelyancl blank, how quiet and dreary, the street hadbecome by the time the two came out of thehouse together and parted, in his hearing, withsome careless yvords. He had to remember howhe confronted Deane, and was greeted with ataunt; how he had borne it; how the man hadplayed with his suspense, and ostentatiously displayedthe money which the other had vainlywatchedancl waited for all day-; and then, suddenlyassuming an air of friendliness and confidence,hacl led him away Citywards, without betrayinghis place of residence, questioning himabout George Dallas. He hacl to remember howthis had embittered and intensified his anger, ancl© 7how a sudden fear hacl sprung up in his mindthat Deane had confided to Dallas the promiseshe had made to him, and the extent to whichtheir "business" relations hacl gone. A dexterousquestion or two had reliey-ed this apprehension,ancl then he hacl once more turned the conversationon the subject in which he was sovitally interested. He had to remember — and
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.175how vividly he did remember, yvith what an awakeningof the savage fury it had called into life,how Deane had met this fresh attempt — yvithwhat a cool and tranquil assertion that he hadchanged his mind, had no further intention ofdoing any business in Routh's line — was goingout of town, indeed, on the morrow, to visit somerelations in the country, too long neglected, andhad no notion when they should meetagain.Andthen — then Stewart Routhhad to rememberhow he had killed the man yvho had taunted,deceived, treated him cruelly; hoyv he had killedhim, ancl robbed him, and gone home ancl toldhis wife — his comrade, his colleague, his dauntless,unscrupulousHarriet. He had to remembermore than all this,and he hated to remember it.But the obligation was upon him; he could notforget hoyv she had acted, after the first agonyhadpassed over, the first penalty inflicted by herphysical weakness, which she hacl spurned andstriven against. So surely as his memory wasforced to reproduce all that had gone before, ityvas condemned to revive all that had comeafter.But he did not soften towards her that day, no,
176 BLACK SHEEP.not in the least, though never had his recollectionbeen so detailed, so minute, so calm. No,he hated her.She wearied him; she had ceasedto be of any sendee to him; she was a constanttorment to him. So he came back to the ideawith which his reflections hacl commenced, ancl,as he entered on the perusal of the massof papersyvhich awaited his attention in his "chambers" inTokenhouse-yard — for he shared the businessabodeof theinvisible Flinders now — he repeated:" What a relief it would be to get away fromher for ever!"Only a feyv days now, ancl the end must come.He wasabrave manin his evil way,and he madehis calculations coolly, ancl scanned his criminalcombinations without any foolish excess of confidence,butwith well-grounded expectation. Fora little longer it yvould not be difficult to keepon fair terms with Harriet, especially as she hadrenewed her solitary mode of life, and he hadtaken the precaution of pretending to a reviveddevotion to play, since the auspicious occasion onwhich he had wonso largely at Homburg. Thushis absence from home was accounted for;and as
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.177she had not the slightest suspicion that Mrs.IretonP.Bembridge was in London, hacl never display-edthe least jealousy, except on the one occasionwhen he had shown her the locket, and hadunhesitatingly accepted his explanation of theirsudden return to England, he hacl no reason totrouble himself about her. To sedulously avoidexciting her suspicion ancl jealousy now, and,when the proper time should arrive, to confirmthe one and arouse the other so effectually- bydesertion, infidelity, and insult, as to drive herat once to free herself from him by the aid ofthe law — this washis scheme.It looked well; heknew Harriet, he thought, thoroughly, and hemight safely calculate upon the course she wouldadopt. It was strange, if human inconsistencycan ever be strange, that Stewart Routh, a manof eminently vindictive disposition, entirely forgotto take into account that the woman thus desperatelyinjured might also seek her revenge, whichwould consist in declining to take her own freedomat the price of giving him his.Perhaps if the depths of that dark heart hadbeen sounded, the depths beyond its own con-VOL. III.N
178 BLACK SHEEP.sciousness — the unvisited,unquestioned, profound— it would have been discovered that this manyy-as so entirely accustomed to the devotion of thewoman who loved him with a desperate thoughintelligent love, that even in her utmost despairand extreme outrage of wrong he felt assuredshe would do that which it was his will sheshould do.During all this mental re\iew he had hardlybestowed a thought on George Dallas.DDHe wouldbe safe enough in the end,if the worst came tothe worst. It had suited him to magnify thestrength of the chain of coincidences, whichlooked like evidence, in discussing them withGeorge, ancl he had magnified it; it suited himto diminish that strength in discussing them with© ©himself, and he diminished it. A good deal ofsuffering and disgrace to all the " Felton-Dallas-CT ©Carruthers connection," as he insolently phrasedit in his thoughts, must come to pass, of course,but no real clanger. And if it were not so?Well, in that case, he really could not afford tocare.When he had wanted money, Deane (hestill thought of him by that name) hacl had to
THE FALLING OF THE SW'ORD.179give way to that imperative need. Now hewanted safety, and Dallas must pay its price.<strong>The</strong>re was something of the sublime of evil inthis man's sovereign egotism. As he turned hismind away from the path it had been forced totread to the end, he thought, " there is a touchof the whimsical in everything; in this it is thedemi-semi-relationship between Harriet ancl thesepeople.Isuppose the sensitive lady of Poyningsneverheard of her step-father Creswick's niece."A letter for Mr. Routh, a delicate, refinedlookingletter, sealed with the daintiest of monograms,the thick board-like envelope containinga sheet of paper to match, on yvhich only a fewlines are scrawled. But as Stewart Routh readsthem, his sinister dark eyes gleam with pleasureand triumph, ancl his handsome evil face is deeplyflushed." Bearer waits." Mr. Routh writes an answerto the letter, short but ardent, if any onehacl now been there to judge by the expressionof his face while he was writingit. He calls hisclerk, yvho takes the letter to " bearer;" but thatindividual has been profiting by the interval to
180 BLACK SHEEP.try the beer in a closely adjacent beer-shop, andthe letter is laid upon a table in the passage leadingto Stewart Routh's rooms, to await his returnfrom the interesting investigation.Another letter for Mr. Routh, ancl this timealso "bearer waits." Waits, too, in the passage,and sees the letter lying on the table, and hasplenty of time to read the address before the experimentingcommissionaire returns, has it handedtohim, and trudges off yvith it.Presently the door at the end of the passage"opens, ancl Routh comes out. Who broughtme a letter just now?" he says to the clerk, andthen stops short,and turns to " bearer."" O, it's you, Jim, is it? Take this to Mrs.Routh."<strong>The</strong>n Stewart Routh went back to his room,ancl read again the note to wdiich he had just replied.It was from Hamet, and contained onlythese words:" Come home at the first possible moment.A letter from G. D., detained by accident fortwo day-s, has just come, and is of the utmostimportance. Letnothing detain you."
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.181<strong>The</strong> joy and triumph in his face hacl givenway to fury;he muttered angry oaths as he torethe note up viciously." All the more reason if the yvorst has come—or is nearer than yve thought — thatIshouldstrike the decisive blow to-day-. She has all butmade up her mind — she must make it quite upto-day. This is Tuesday-;the Asia sails on Saturday.Aletter from Dallas only cannot bringaboutthe final crash:nothing can really-happen till heis here.IfIhave only ordinary luck, we shall beout of harm's yvayby then."A little later Stewart Routh made certainchanges in his dress, very carefully, and departedfrom Tokenhouse-yard in a hansom, looking asunlike a man with any cares, business, or otherkind upon his mind as any gentleman in all"London. Queen' s-gate, Kensington," he saidto the driver; and the last words of the letter,daintily sealed, and written on board-like paper,wliich was in his breast-pocket at that moment,were:"/will waitfor you in the carriage at Queen'sgate."
182 BLACK SHEEP."I'm gladIsee'd that 'ere letter," said JimSwain to himself, as, deeply preoccupied by thecircumstances of the preceding day, he faced towardsRouth's house, "because whenIput Mr.Dallas on this here lay,Ineedn't let out asIspied 'em home. Ican 'count for knowin' onthe place permiskus." Ancl then, from an intricaterecess of his dirty pocket, much complicatedwith crumbs and fragments of tobacco, Jim pulledout a crumpled scrap of paper. "Teddy wroteit doyvn quite right," he said, and he smoothedout the paper, and transferred it, for safer keeping,to his cap, in which he had deposited themissive with which he yvas charged.When Jim Swain arrived at his destination,and the door was opened to him, Harriet was inthe hall. She seemed surprised that he hadbrought her a written answer. She had expectedmerely a verbal reply, telling her hoyvsoon Routh would be home.Jim pulled his capoff hastily, taken by surprise at seeing her, andwhile he handed her the note,looked at her witha full renewal of all the compassion for her whichhacl formerly filled his untaught but not untender
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD. 183heart. He guessed rightly that he had broughther something that would pain her. She lookedafraid of the note during the moment she heldit unopened in her hand; but she did not thinkonly of herself, she did not forget to be kind tohim."Go down to the kitchen, and cook yvillgive you some dinner, Jim," she said, as shewent into the dining-room and shut the door;and the boy obeyed her with an additionalsense of hatred and suspicion against Routh athis heart." I'm beginning to make it all out now," hethought, as he disposed of his dinner in most unusualsilence."<strong>The</strong> other one put Routh up toit all, out of spite of some kind. It was a plantof hers, it was; and this here good 'un — for sheis good — is a-sufferin' for it all, while he's a carryin'on."Shortly after, Jim Swain took aruefulleave of the friendly cook, and departed by thearea-gate. Having reached Piccadilly, he stoodstill for a moment, pondering, and then took aresolution, in pursuance of which he approachedthe house at yvhich he had made a similar in-
184 BLACK SHEEP.quiry the day before, and again asked if therewas any news " of Mr. Felton. "Yes," the servantreplied; a telegram hadbeen received fromPaiis. <strong>The</strong> rooms yvere to be ready on the follov\ingday. Mr. Felton and Mr. Dallas werecoming by the tidal train.""I've a mind to go back and tell her," said"Jim to himself. She must want to knoyv forsome particular reason, or she wouldn't have sentme to ask yesterday, and she wouldn't have letme catch her out in tellin' a crammer if therewarn't somethin' in it. But no," saidJim sagely,tlIwon't. I'll wait for Mr. Dallas; there arn'tlong to yvait now."Jim Swain's resolution had an important consequence,which came about in a very ordinaryand trifling way. If the boy had gone back toRouth's house, and hacl been admitted into thehall, he yvould have seen a piece of paper lyingon the door-mat, on which his quick eyes yvouldinstantly have recognised the caligraphic feat ofIlls accomplished friend, Teddy Smith; ancl hewould have regained possession of it. But Jimdid not return, and the paper lay there undis-
THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.185turbed for some hours — lay- there, indeed, untilit was seen by the irreproachable Harris whenhe went to light the gas, picked up, perused byhim, and taken to his mistress, who was sittingin the drawing-room quite unoccupied. Shelooked up as the servant entered; ancl yvhen theroomyvas lighted,he saw that she was deadlypale,but took no notice of the paper wliich he placedon the table beside her. Some time after hehacllest the room her glance fell upon it, and shestretched out her hand wearily, and took it up,yvith a vague notion that it yvas a tax-gather'snotice.But Harriet Routh, whose neiwes haclonce been proof against horror, dread, suffering,danger, or surprise, started as if she had beenshot when she saw, written upon the paper:"Mrs. Bembridge, 4 Hollington-square, Brompton."
CHAPTERIX."CRUEL AS THE GRAVE.""IDO not know what he is doing," Harriet had" repeated to herself in sore distress; Ido notknoyv what he is doing. Iam in the dark, andthe tide is rising."<strong>The</strong> jealous agony she had suffered at Homburgwas harder to bear than the uncertaintyyvhich had been her lot since her return.<strong>The</strong>intense passion of jealousy sprung up within heryvas a revelation to this yvoman of the violenceof her ow-n nature, over which a stern restrainthacl been kept so long that quiet and calm hadgrown habitual to her while nothing troubled ordisputed her love; but they deserted her at thefirst rude touch laid upon the sole treasure, thejoy,the punishment, the occupation,mainspring,and meaning of her fife. Under all the quiet ofher manner, under all the smoothness of her
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 187speech, Harriet Routh knew well there yvas asavage element in the desperation of her lovefor Routh, sincehe had committed the crimeyvhich sets a man apart from his fellows, markedyvith the brand of blood.She had loved himin spite of the principles of her education, indefianceof the stings of her conscience, deadnow, but yvhich had died hard; but now sheloved him in spite of the promptings of her instincts,in spite of the revulsion of her womanlyfeelings, in defiance of the revolt of her sensesand her nerves. <strong>The</strong> more utterly lost he was,the more she clung to him, not indeed in appearance,for her manner had lost its old softness,andher voice the tone yvhich hacl been a caress;butin her torn and tortured heart. With desperateand mad obstinacy she loved him, defied fate, andhated the world yvhich had been hard to liim, forliis sake.With the first pang of jealousy awoke thefierceness of this love, awoke the proud and defiantassertion of her love and her ownership inher breast. Never yvould Harriet have pleadedher true, if perverted, love, her unwavering, if
188 BLACK SHEEP.yvicked, fidelity, to the man who was driftingaway from her; the yvoman's lost soul was toogenerous for that; but he yvas hers, her own; —purchased; — God, in yvhom she did not believe,and the devil, whom she did not fear, alone knewrat v,hat a price; — ancl he should not be takenfrom her by another, by one who hacl done nothingfor him, suffered nothing for him, lost nothingfor him. Her combativeness and her crafthad been called into instant action by the firstdiscovery of the unexpectedperilin whichher soletreasure yvas placed. She understood her positionperfectly. No woman could have known moredistinctly- than Harriet hoyv complete is the helplessnessof a wife when her husband's love isstraying from her, beckoned towards another —helplessness wliich everypoint of contrast betweenher and her rival increases. She was quite incapableof the futile strife, the vulgar railing, yvhichare the ordinary weaponsof ordinary yvomen in theunequal combat; she would have disdained theiremployment; but fate had furnished her yvithweaponsofother form and far different effectiveness,and these she yvould use. Routh had strong
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 189common -sense, intense selfishness, and shrewdjudgment. An appeal to these, she thought,could not fail. Nevertheless, they had failed, andHarriet yy-as bewildered by their failure. Whenshe made her first appeal to Routh, she wasw-holly unprepared for his refusal. <strong>The</strong> dangerwas so tremendous, the unforeseen discovery- ofthe murdered man's identity had introduced intotheir position a complication so momentous, soinsurmountable, that shehad never dreamed for amoment of Routh's being insensible to its weight—oCTand emergency. But he rejected her appealrudely, brutally, almost, and her astonishmentwas hardly inferior to her anguish. He mustindeed be infatuated by this strange and beautifulyvoman (Harriet fully- admitted the American'sbeauty — there was an element of candourand judgment in her which made the littlenessof depreciating arival impossible) when he couldoy-erlook or under-estimate the importance, theclanger, of this newly arisen complication.This was a neyv phase in her husband's character;this yvas an aspect under which she hadnever seenhim, and she w-as bewildered by it, for
190 BLACK SHEEP.alittle. Ithad occurred to her once, on the claywhenshe last sayy George Dallas — parting withhim at the gate of his mother's house — to thinkwhether,had she had any other resource but herhusband,had the yvhole yyorld outside of him notbeen a dead blank to her, she could have let himgo. She hacl heard of such things; she kneyvthey happened; she knew that many yvomen in" the world" took their husbands'infidelity quietly,if not kindly, and let them go, turning them tothe resources of wealth ancl pleasure. She had nosuch resources, nor could these have appeased herfor a momentif she had hacl.She cared nothingfor liberty-, she yvho had worn the chain of themost abject slavery-, that of engrossing passionatelove for an unworthy object, willingly,hadhuggedit to her bosom, hacl allowed it yvithout an effortto alleviate the pain, to eat into her flesh, and fillit yvith corruption. But, more than this, she couldnot let him go, for his own sake; sheyvas trueto the law of her life, that " honour rooted in dishonour"knew no tarnishing from her; she mustsave him, for his own sake — from himself, shemust save him, thoughnot to bring him back to
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 191her — must save him, in spite of himself, thoughshe longed, in the cruel pangs of her woman'sanguish, to have done yvith it — to hay^e found thatnothingnessin yvhich she had come to believe asthe " end all," ancl had learned to look to as hersovereign good.She had reached such a conclusion, in hermeditations, on the night of the great storm atHomburg; she had determined on a course to beadopted for Routh's sake. She would discard fear,ancl show him that he must relinquish the desperategame he was playing. She would proveto him that fate had been too strong for him; thatin Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge the fatality yvhichwas destined to destroy him existed; that heracquaintance with Arthur Felton, and her knowledgeof Arthur Felton's affairs, into yvhose extentRouth had no possible pretext for inquiry, mustnecessarily- establish the missing link. She yvouldhide from him her ownsufferings;she yvould keepdown her jealousy and her love; she yvould appealto him for himself; she would plead withhim only his own danger, only the tremendousrisk he was involving himself in. <strong>The</strong>nshe must
192 BLACK SHEEP.succeed; then the double agony of jealousy of himand fear for him in which she now lived mustsubside, the burning torment must be stilled. <strong>The</strong>time might perhaps come in yvhich she should sofar conquer self as to be thankful that such sufferinghacl brought about his safety, for there couldbe no real security for them inLondon, theterriblefact of Deane's identity with Arthur Felton onceknown.After that discovery, no arguments couldavail with George;the strength of all those yvhichshe had used would become potent against her,their yveight would be against her — that yyeightyvhich she had so skilfully adjusted in the balance.After all, she thought that night, as she sat in thedarkness and idly yvatched the lightning, hearingthe raging wind unmoved, what yvould a littlemore misery matter to her ? Little, indeed,if itbrought him safety; andit should,itmust!From this condition of mind she had beenroused by Routh's startlingannouncementof theirdeparture on the morrow. <strong>The</strong> effect producedupon Harriet was strange. She did not believethat Routh had been only to the gaming-roomsthat night:she felt an immutable conviction that
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 193he hacl seen Mrs. Bembridge, and she instantlyconcludedthat he had received a rebuff from the—beautiful American. Inexpressibly relieved,though not blind enough to be in the least insensibleto the infamy of her husband's faithlessness,and quite aware that she had more, ratherthan less, to complain of than she had previouslybelieved; — for she rightly- judged, this womanistoo finished a coquette to throw up her game amoment before her own interest and safety absolutelyobliged her to do so — she acquiesced immediately.Had Stewart Routh hacl the least suspicion ofthe extent of his yvife's know-ledge of his life atHomburg,he could not have been lulled into thefalse security in yvhich he indulged on his returnto London. He perceived, indeed, that Harrietclosely noted the state of his spirits, and silentlyobserved his actions. But he was used to that.Harriet had no one to think of but him, had nothingto care about but him; and she had — alwayswatched him. Pleasantly, gaily, before; coldly,grimly, now;but it was all the same thing. Hewas quite right in believing she had not the leastVOL. III. 0
194 BLACK SHEEP.suspicion that Airs. Ireton P. Bembridge was inLondon, but that was the sole point on yvhich hewas correct. Had he known how much his wifekneyv, he yvould have affected adejection of spiritshe was far from feeling, and yvould have disarmedher by greater attention to her during the fewhours of each day yvhich he passed at home.Harriet yvas at a loss to account for his cheerfulness;but strong of mind and heart as she was,she was not altogether free from the yveakness ofcatching at that interpretation of a mystery inwhich there was some relies for her ownpain. Soshe concluded that he had been only passingly,and not deeply,hurt by the coquetry of the w-omanwho hacl attracted him, and that he hacl recoveredfrom the superficial wound, as soon as he becameagain immersed in the schemes which had awaitedhim in London.Ho had toldher littleconcerning these schemes,but she considered this reticence due to her ownwithdrawal from her former active participationin the business of his life, andit was an additionalinducement to her to hope that Routh was taking"the resolution w-hich she desired. When we get
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 195back to London,Iwill think about it," he haclsaid, and she clung to the hope, to the half promisein the words. He was surely settling affairsso as to enable him to avoid the bursting of thestorm. Tlie tacit estrangement between themwould account for his doing this silently; his viletemper, which Harriet thoroughly understood, andnever failed to recognise in action, would accountfor his denying her the relief of knowing his intentions.Many small things in his daily- life,which didnot escape the quickened perception ofhis wife,betokened a state of preparation for somedecided course of action. <strong>The</strong> time of explanationmust necessarily come; meanwhile, she watched,ancl waited, ancl suffered.How she suffered in every hour of her life!Yet there was a kind of dulness over Harriet too.She recurred little to the past inpoint of feeling;she thought overit, indeed, in aid of the action ofher reasonand her will, but she did not recall ityvith the keenness either of acute grief for itsvanished happiness, such as it had been, or ofremorse and terror for its deep and desperateguilt.<strong>The</strong> burden of the day was enough now
196 BLACK SHEEP.for this woman, whose strength had lasted so long,endured so much, and given yvay so suddenly.But time was marching on. Tlie inevitableend drawing near, and Harriet had been utterlyunpreparedfor the second shock, the second unexpectedevent yvhich had befallen. She hadopened George Dallas's letter yvith the Paris postmarkalmost without an apprehension. Tlie timefor the thing she feared had not yet come; andhere was a thing she had never feared, a possibilityyvhich had never presented itself to herimagination, brought at once fully before her.She had done this thing. One moment's yvant ofcaution, in the midst of a scene in yvhich hernerves had been strung to their highest tension,and this had been the result. Hacl no other clueexisted, these few lines of writing would furnishone leading unerringly to discovery-.Supposingno other clue to exist, and Routh to pretend toinability to identify the writing, there yvere severalcommon acquaintances of Dallas and Deane whocould identify- it, and render a refusal the mostdangeroua step which Routh could take.She sat for several minutes perfectly still,her
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 197face colourless as marble, anclher blue eyes, fixedwith a painful expression of terror, under theshock of this new discovery. She had had noworse apprehension than that the letter wouldannounce the day of George's intended return,and for that she was prepared; but this! It yvastoo much for her, and the first yvords she utteredshowed that her mind had lost its strict facultyof reasoning; they broke fromher with a groan:" I— Iitis yvho have destroy-ed him!"But, even now, weakness ancl exaggerationhad nolong duration inHarrietRouth's mind. Bydegrees she saw this in its true light, an alarming,a terrible coincidence indeed, an additionto the clanger of their position, but not necessarilya fatal catastrophe. <strong>The</strong>n she saw newlight, shecaught at a new idea, a fresh, bright hope. Thiswould avail yvith Routh; this would drive awayhis irresolution; this would really inspire himyvith the true conviction of their danger; this,yvliich yvould throw the w-hole burden of identificationupon liim; this, which would establish astrong and intimate link between him ancl thedead man; for the"articles to be purchased,"
198 BLACK SHEEP.named in the memorandum of yvhich George hadsent her a copy, yvere simply shares in companiesyvith everyone of which Stewart Routh yvas connected.Only George's ignorance of such mattershad prevented his recognising the meaning of thememorandum.Ancl now Harriet rose;ancl as shepaced theroom, the colour came back to her cheek, thelight came back to her eyes. A new life andfresh energy seemed to spring up within her, anclshe grasped George's letter in her hand, andstruck it against her bosom with an action of thehand and a responsive movement of the breastwhich was almost triumphant. This thing whichshe had clone, which had looked like ruin, wouldbe her wayof escape.Routh's refusal to return home immediatelyannoyed, puzzled, and disheartened her. Whyyvas he so hard to move, so difficult to convince,so insensible to clanger ?His plea was business;if this business yvas what she hoped ancl believedit to be, that ofpreparation, he should have comehome to learn the new and urgent need for itsexpedition. Why was he so hard to her ? Why
';CRUEL AS IHE GRAVE." 199had he no thought for her wishes, no compassionon her suspense? Harriet could not but ask herselfthat, though she strove against the deadlysufferingthe answer brought her.Thus the time wore on drearily, until Harrietcarelessly took from the table the shp of paperyvhich contained a yvhole revelation for her.Of the hours which succeeded she could nothave given an account herself. How the fury ofjealousy, of love betrayed, of faith violated, wasreawakened yvithin her, and inflamed to thewildest and most desperate pitch;how she writhedunder the shame and the scorn which her husband'sbaseness forced her to feel. She had hadprofoundest pity, readiest help for the criminal;but for this pitiful, cowardly, cruel liar nothingbut contempt — nothing! Ah, yes, somethingmore, and that made it all the harder — contemptand love.<strong>The</strong> yvoman was here, then — here, in London,on the spot to ruin him, lured hither by him.His false heart planned; his guilty hands dugthe pit into wliich he was to fall;and now hisfeet were close upon the brink. This rendered
200 BLACK SHEEP.him deaf ancl blind; for this he had basely deceivedher, his best, his only friend; for this hehad come to regard and treat her as his enemy;and now Harriet had to make a desperate effortindeed to rally all her strength and courage.She had to put the suffering aside, to let all herhopes go, to face a new and almost desperate conditionof affairs, and to think how he was to besaved. It must be in spite of himself. This time,it must be in defiance of himself.She had passed through a long period of suffering— if timois to be measured by pain — beforeRouth came home.She had not nearly thoughtit out; she had only- reached a resolution to bepatient and peaceful, and to conceal her knowledgeof his treachery if any effort could give herthe strength to do so, yvhen she heard his key inthe lock, and the next moment his hand on thedoor-handle.<strong>The</strong>re yvas confusion in the expression ofRouth's shifty black eyes, some embarrassmentin the tone of his voice. <strong>The</strong>y yvere slight; butshe saw and understood them. Her heart gaveoone angry bound under the paper yvhich lay
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 201securely in her bosom, but her steady face tookno change from the pulsation." SonyIcouldn't get back. Igot away as-ooii asIcould," said Routh, as he threw aside_____coat and put his hat down. Harriet pushed achair towards him, ancl he sat down before sheanswered:"Iam sorry, too, Stewart. I can hardlythink any business can have equalled in importancesuch an occurrence as this."She put George Dallas's letter into his hand,and eagerly watched him, yvhile with a face convulsedby anger, hatred, and all unholy passions,he read it.If shecould have seen his heart! If shecould have read the devilish project that filled it!If she could have seen that in the discovery of thenew and urgent danger he had seen, not blind tothat danger indeed, but catching at the chanceincluded in it, a means of realising his atrociousplot against her! If she could have distinguished,amid the surging, passionate thoughts and impulseswliich raged within him, this one, yvhicheach second made more clear:
202 BLACK SHEEr." Tliis is my- opportunity. All is settled, all isright; she anclIare safe.Ihave triumphed, anclthis cursed letter gives me a better chance thananyIcould have formed or made. This infernalidiot is always my curse and my dupe; however,he has done me a good turn this time."If Harriet, watching the changes in herhusband's countenance, could have read thesethoughts, she might have interpreted aright theferocity yvhich blazed in his yvicked eyes, while acynical sneer curled his lip, as he flung the letterviolently on the floor, starting up from his chair.Harriet had seen Routh in a passion morethan once, though only once had that passionbeen directed against herself, and she was not awoman, even when its victim, to be frightened bya man's temper. But she was frightened now,really ancl truly frightened, not, however, by theviolence of his rage, but because she did not believein it. She did not understand his game;she saw he was playing one; whyhe feigned tliisfury- she could not comprehend, but she knew itwas feigned, and she was frightened. Againstcomplicated deception of thiskind she was power-
less."CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 203She could not oppose successful art to thcingenious skill yvith which he was courtinghis ownruin, to save him. She could not disentangle thisthought from the confusion in her brain; she feltonly its first tin-ill of conviction, she only shrankfrom it with swift, sharp, physical pain, whenRouth turned upon her with a torrent of angryand fierce reproaches." This is your doing," he said, the violence ofhis simulated anger hurrying his yvords, and"rendering them almost unintelligible. I oweit to you that this cursed fool has meinhis power,if the idiot only finds it out, and knows how touse it, more securely thanIever hacl him inmine.Tliis is your skill and your wisdom;yourcaution and your management, — is it ? Like afool,Itrusted a woman you were always so sureof yourself, you knoyv, and here's the result.You keep this pretty- piece of conviction in yourdesk, ancl produce it just in the nick of time.don't wonder you wanted me home;Idon'twonder you yvere in such ahurry to give me suchaproof ofyour boasted cleverness."Her clear blue eyes were uponhim;his rest-I
204 BLACK SHEEP.lessblack eyes shifted under her gaze, but couldnot escape it. She did not release him for aninstant from that piercing look, yvhich became,with each word he spoke, more and more alightyvith scorn and power. <strong>The</strong> steady look maddenedhim, the feigned passion changed to real rage,the man's evil face paled.She slightly raised her hand, and pointed tothe chair he had left;he kicked it savagely away."She spoke, her hand still extended. Stewart,Ido not understand you, butIam not taken inby you. What are you aiming at? Why arey-ou pretending to this violent ancl unreasonableanger?""Pretending!" he exclaimed, with an oath;"it is no pretence, as you shall find. Pretending!Woman, you have ruined me, andIsay — ""And /say-," she interposed, as she slowlyrose, ancl stood upright before him, her headraised,her steady eyes still mercilessly' set on his," this is a vain and ridiculous pretence. Youcannotlong conceal its motive from me: yvhatevergame you areplaying,Iyvill find it out."" Will you,by— ?" he said fiercely.
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 205calmly." Iyvill, for your own sake," she answeredAnd, standing before him, she touchedhim lightly on the breast yvith her small whitehand. "Stop! don't speak. Isay, for your oyvnsake.You and I, Stewart, who were once one,are two noyv;but that makes no change hi 'me.Idon'treproach yrou.""0, don't you?" he said. "I know better.<strong>The</strong>re's been nothing but whining and reproacheslately."" Now you are acting again, and againItellyouIwill find out why-. <strong>The</strong> day of reproachcan never — shall never — come; the clay of ruin isnear, awfully near — "" You've taken careof that."" Again! You ought to know me better,Stewart; you can't lie to me undetected.timeIshall knowInthe truth, nowIdiscern thelie. But all this is vain. Read once more."She took up the letter, smoothed it out, ancl heldit towards him.ancl cursed her.He struck it out of her hand,She looked at him in blank amazement for amoment, and then said:
206 BLACK SHEEP."You are not drunk again, Stewart?Youare not mad ? If you are not, listen to me, forvour fate is rushing upon y-ou. <strong>The</strong> time may becounted by hours. Never mind my share in thisnew event, never mind what you reallythink, orwhat you pretend to think about it. Itmakes myappeal to you strong, irresistible. This is no fit ofwoman'sterror; this is no whim, no wish toinduce you to desert your harvest-field, to turnyour back upon the promise of the only kind oflife y-ou care to live.Here is a link in the evidenceagainst you, if suspicion lights upon you(and it must), which is of incontestable strength.Here, in Arthur Felton's writing, is the memorandaof the shares which you bought and paid forwith Arthur Felton'smoney. Stewart,Steyvart, arey-oublindand mad, indeed, that youstayhere, thatyou let the precious time escape you, that youdally with your fate ? Let us begone,Isay;letus escape while we may. George Dallas is notour only foe, not our only danger — formidable,indeed; but remember, Stewart, Mr. Feltoncomes to seek for his son; remember that wehave to dread the man's father!"
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 207<strong>The</strong> pleading in her voice was agonising in itsintensity, the lustrous excitement inher blue eyeswas painful, the pallor of her face was frightful.She had clasped her hands round his arm, and thefingers held him like steel fetters.He tried toshake off her hold, but she did not seem aware ofthe movement."I tell you," she continued, "no dream wasever yvilder than your hope ofescape,if those twomen come to London and find y-ou here; no suchpossibility exists. Let us go; let us get out of thereach of their power.""By , I'll put myself out of Dallas'sreach by a very simple method, if you don't holdyrour cursed tongue," said Routh, yvith such ferocitythat Harriet let go her hold of him, ancl"shrank as if he had struck her. If you don'twant me to tell Mr. Felton what has become ofhis son, and put him on to George's trail myself,you'll drop this kind of thing at once. In fact,"he said, " yvith a savage sneer, Ihardly think abetter w-ay out of our infernal blunder could befound."" Stewart, Stewart !" She said no more.
208 BLACK SHEEP." Now listen to me, Harriet," he went on, in"furious anger, but in a suppressed tone. If youare anythinglike the wise woman you used to be,you won't provoke a desperate man.Let mealone,Itell you — let me get out of this asIbestcan. <strong>The</strong> worst part ofit is wdiat you have broughtupon me.Idon't want George Dallas to come toany serious grief, ifIcan help it; but if hethreatens danger to me, he must clear the way,that's all.Idare say you are very sorry, ancl allthat.You rather took to Master George lately,believed in his prudence, and his mother, and allthat kind of thing; butIcan't help that. Ineverhad a turn for sentiment myself; but this youmay be sure of — only gross blundering can bringanything of the kind about — if any oneis to swingfor Deane, it shall be Dallas, andnot I."A strong shudder shook Harriet's frame as sheheard her husband's words.But she repressed it,and spoke:" You refuse to listen to me, then, Stewart.You yvill not keep your promise — your promiseyvhich, however vague,Ihavebuilt upon andlivedupon since we left Homburg?Youwill not ' think
"CRUEL AS THF, GRAVE." 209of ' whatIsaid to you there ?thousand times more important now?Not thoughitis aYou willnot leave this life, and come away to peace andsafety?"" No, no; a thousand times no!" said Routh,in the yvildest fury-." Iwill not — Iwill not! Alife ofpeace and safety; yes, anda fife of poverty,"and you he added, in atoneof bitterest scornancl hatred.A yvonderful look came into the woman's faceas she heard his cruel and dastardly yvords.Asthe pink had faded into the white upon her cheeks,so now the white deadened into gray — into anashen ghostlygray-,and her dry lips parted slowly,emitting aheavy sigh.He made a step or two towards the door, sheretreating before him. And when he had almostreached it, she fell suddenly- upon her knees,'andflung her arms round him yvith desperate energy." Stewart," she said, in a whisper indeed, yet" in a voice to be heard amid a yvhirlwind, myhusband, my love, my life, my darling, don'tmind me! Leave me here; it yvill be safer,better, less suspicious. Go away, and leave me.VOL. III.P
210 BLACK SHEEP.Idon't care, indeed. Idon't want to go withyou. Go alone, ancl make sure of your safety!Stewart, say you'll go — say you'll go!"While she was speaking, he was striving toloosen her hold upon him, but in vain.A shortbrief warfare was waged in that moment in hissoul.Ifhe softened to her now, if he yielded toher now, all wTas undone.And yet yvhat love was— this wdiat strange, and wondrous, ancl potentkind of love was this? Not the kind of lovewhich had looked at him, an hour or two ago, outof the rich black eyes of the American widoyv,that hacl trembled in the tones of her voice. Buta vision of the beauty he coveted, of the yvealth heneeded, of the freedom he panted for, rose beforeRouth's bewildered brain, ancl the strife ended.Evilhad its ownyvay unchecked henceforth to theend.He raised his right arm and struck her heavilyupon the face; the clasp of her hands gave way,and she sank upon the floor. <strong>The</strong>n he steppedoverher, as she lay prostrate in the doorways andleft the room. When she raised herself, shepushed back her hair, and looked round with a
"CRUEL AS THE GRAVE." 211dreary amazement upon her troubled face, ancl sheheard the key turned in his dressing-room door.Thc day had dawned when Harriet Routhwent gently up-stairs to her bedroom.She wasperfectly calm. She opened the window-shuttersancl let the light in before she lay doyy-n on herbed. Also, she unlocked a box, which she tookfrom her wardrobe, and looked carefully into it,then put it away satisfied." As she closed hereyes, she said, half aloud, Ican do no more;but she can save him,and she shall."At one o'clock on the following day-, HarrietRouth, attired, as usual, in simple but ladylikedress, and presenting an appearance on which themost impertinent of pages would not have daredto cast an imputation, presented herself at No. 4Hollington-square, Brompton. Mrs. Bembridgelived there,but Mrs. Bembridge was not at home,ancl would not be at home until late in the evening.Would the lady leave her name ? No;butshe desired Mrs. Bembridge might be informedthat a lady had called, and yvould call again atthe same hour on the morrow, who hacl found an
212 BLACK SHEEr.article of dress lost at Homburg by Mrs. Bembridge,and which she would restore to Mrs.Bembridgeinperson,but not otherwise.As Harriet yvas returning home, she walkeddown Piccadilly, and sawMr. Felton and GeorgeDallas alighting from a cab at the door of thehouse in which their lodgings had been engaged." Very fair, too," said Mrs. Ireton P. Bernbridge,yyhen she received Harriet's message fromher maid, " and very natural she should expect areward.Ladies often take advantage of that kindof thing to give money to the poor. Ishan'tgrudge her anything she may ask in reason,Ishall be so gladto getback my golden egg."
CHAPTER X."INFORMATION RECEIVED."When George Dallas knew that his meeting yvithClare Carruthers yvas imminent, he told his uncleone of the two circumstances of his life which hehad hitherto concealed from him. As Georgeexpected, Mr. Felton received the communicationyvith some seriousness. A little yvhile ago,""George," he said, this might have upset thenew and good understanding happily establishedbetween Mr. Carruthers and yourself, but I" amin hopes it will not do so now.Ithink the oldgentleman's nature is fine and forgiving, yvhenone gets beneath the crust, andIam not afraidnow.<strong>The</strong> chance of seeing the young lady, notin his presence, for the first time — that wouldhave been awkward and dangerous indeed — ismost fortunate. You must make your peace withher in the first instance."
214 . BLACK SHEEP.Enoughof the old habit os trick andexpedientstill adhered to George, in his improved moralcondition, to induce him to entertain a passingthought that perhaps the necessity for Mr. Carruthersknowing he had had any previous acquaintancewith Clare might never arise;if shedid not see that he must be told, George need notfeel himself bound to tell him. But he rejectedthe impulse after a very little yvhile, and wasashamed of it. When, therefore,Mr. Felton hadleft George alone at Sir Thomas Boldero's house,he had done so with intention, and without anypurpose of returning." Meet me at my rooms afterwards," he hadsaid to George. "And tell Miss CarruthersIwill take leave to call on her at Mrs. Stanhope'sthis afternoon." George agreed, premising thathe must look iu at the Mercury office first, butwould then be at his uncle's service.Left alone,he had applied himself, in a condition ofextrememental discomposure, to thinkingof what he shouldsay to Clare, and how he should say it. He hadalmost arranged a satisfactory- programme beforeshe came; after — well, after, he didnot speak, or
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 215look in the least like yvhat he had intended, andifany one had asked him for an account of theirinterview (yvhich no one did,it was destined to beutterly- forgotten and overyvhelmed in the tide ofe\-ents), he would have been quite incapable ofsatisfying the demand.<strong>The</strong> interview lasted long, and yvhen, at itsclose, George Dallas put Clare Carruthers intoher cousin's carriage, her face was closely veiled,and the little hand which lingered in his had notyet done trembling. As he stood on the doorstepand yvatched the carriage out of sight, theyoungman's face yvas pale and agitated,but fullof deep and sacred happiness too. An expressionof resolve and hope, of courage and power, yvasupon his features, such as they had never beforeworn. Had he recalled the resolution he hadtaken for the time when Clare Carruthers shouldknow Paul Ward as George Dallas, and had herenewed it, yvith fresh heart and energy, not unaidednow by circumstances, not frowned uponby fate, no longer friendless ? However that mayhave been, he carried a humbled and gratefulheart with him, ancl felt himself a widely different
216 BLACK SHEEP.man as he entered the dingy precincts of theMercury office,from whathehad been the last timehe had crossed that threshold.Mr. Cunningham was "in," and not onlycould see George, but was particularly anxiousto seehim." I yvas just yvriting to you, old fellow," hesaid, leaving off shaking hands with George, andbeginning to tear up a brief and scrawly manuscripton flimsy which laybefore him. " Youhavecome in time to save me trouble and fourpencesterling.""Anything about the businessIwrote to youabout?" asked George."Just that, sir.Of courseIattended to itat once, ancl put Tatlow on to it on your accomit.<strong>The</strong>y're said to be cautious chaps, the detectives,and of course it wouldn't pay for them to besaid to be anything else; but I'm hanged ifIever believed it before. You may talk of depth,but Tatlow's unfathomable. Has the job fromyou, sir, per medium of your humble servant,and flatly declinesto report progress to me;goes in for doing business only yvith the prin-
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 217cipal, and when he comes to me not a word canIget out of him, exceptthat he must know the addressof a certain individual named Paul Ward."" Paul Ward?" exclaimed George." Yes, Paul Ward! Great fun, isn't it,George? AndIreally could not resist the jokeof quizzing the detective a little bit.I yvas immenselytickled at the idea of your employing theman, and his looking after you. SoItold himIkneyv Mr.Dallas was acquainted with a gentlemanof that name, and could give him all theinformation he required."George could not laugh, but he tried to smile.Nothing could lend the subject ofhis uncle's suspenseand anxiety even a collaterally- amusing effectfor him,and this statementpuzzledhim." What on earth canIhave to do with thematter?" he said. "<strong>The</strong> man must be travellingvery far indeed out of the right tracks.No onein the world, as it is pretty plain, can be moreignorant of Felton's affairs thanIam. He mustbe ona totally wrong scent; and if he has blunderedin this way, it is only waste of time andmoney to employ- him."
218 BLACK SHEEP." Well," said Cunningham,alittledisappointedthat Georgedidnotenjoy the keennessof thecapitaljoke as much as he did, "y-ou must settle all thatwith him yourself, and find out from liim, if youcan — ancl, by Jove,Idoubt it — hoyv Paul Wardhas got mixed up in your cousin's affairs (if hehas got mixed up in them — ancl, mind,Idon'tfeel sure even of that — he certainly did uot sayso) without your being aparty to the transaction.Ijust gave Tatlow your address in Piccadilly-, ancltold him you'dbe there in a day or two.""What did he say?" asked George, yvhosesense ofmystification was increasing." Said he should call every clay until youarrived, — no doubt he has been there to-day, oryou'll find him there when you get home, — anddisappeared, having got all the informationIchoseto give him, but not what he wanted; which is,Itake it, the correct thing to do to a detective whoobserves the laws of discretion too absolutely.""Cunningham waslaughing his jollylaugh, andGeorge was wondering what Tatloyv meant, yvhenthe entrance of athird individual on officebusinessinterrupted the friends' talk. George took leave,
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 219and went down-stairs. Arrived at the door, hestopped, ranup the first flight ofdirty- stairsagain,and turned into a small room, dimly lighted by adirty skylight, to the right of the first landing.In tliis sanctuary, strong smelling of dust, size,and printer's ink, lay files, bound and unbound,of the Mercury. A heavy volume yvas open onthe clumsy thick-legged table which filled up thecentre of the room. It contained the files of the" Let me see," said George, " she was notnewspaper for the first halfof the current year.quite sure about the 22d; but it musthave beenabout that date."<strong>The</strong>n he turned the leaves, and scanned thecolumns of advertisements, until he found in onethe warning yvhich Clare Carruthers had sent toPaul Ward.His eyes filled yvith tears ashe readit. He called up oneof the office people, and hacla copy of the paper of that date looked for, out ofwliich he carefully cut the advertisement,and consignedit to the keeping of the pocket-book yvhichhe always carried about him. He placed the littleslip of printed paper in the same compartment inyvhich Clare Carruthers's unconscious gift had so
220 BLACK SHEEP.long lain hidden. As George threw open thedoors of the hansom in which he had been drivenfrom the Mercury office to Piccadilly, Jim Swaincame to the wheel, and, touching his tousled head," Certainly," said George,getting out;" anyaskedif he might speak to him.message from Mr. Routh?"" No, sir," said Jim," it's not; it's somethin'very partic'lar, asIas 'ad to say to you this longtime,lt ain't rightly about myself — and — "" Never mind, Jim; you can tellme all about"it in the house," said George cheerily-. Comealong." He opened the door yvith his key, andlet himself ancl Jim into the hall. But there Mr.Felton methim,his face grave ancl care-worn,and,as George saw in a minute, with some additionallines of trouble in it." I'm so gladyouhave come, George.I foundletters here whenIgot back."" Letters fromNew York ?""Yes."George left Jim standing on tlie mat, g3ingwith his uncle into the roomhe had just left.Mr. James S.vain, who was accustomed to pass
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 221a good deal ofhis life in yvaiting about on steps,in passages, at horses' heads, and occasionally inkitchens, and to yvhom the comfortable hall ofthehouse inPiccadilly presented itselfas an agreeabletemporary abode, considered it advisable to sitdown and attend the leisure ofMr. Dallas.had been for someHeminutes engaged partly inthinking what he should say toMr.Dallas, partlyincounting the squares in the tiles which floored thehall,hearing all the while a subdued sound ofvoices from the adjoining room, yvhen a strangesort ofcry reached his ears. He started up,andlistened intently. Tlie cry was not repeated; butin a few moments Mr. Felton came into the hall,looking frightened, and called loudly- down thelower staircase for assistance.Two servants, amanand a woman, came quickly, and in the meantime Jim looked in at the open door.In anotherminute they wereall in the dining-room in a confusedgroup, gathered round an arm-chair,inwhich waslying the insensible death-like figure ofGeorge Dallas, his collar and necktie torn off, hiswaistcoat open, several letters on the table beforehim,and a card on the floor at his feet.
222 BLACK SHEEP.It yvas a very complete and dead swoon, andthere yvas no explanation ofit; none to be givento the servants,at least. Jim Swain did not touchGeorge — he only looked on; and as, at the suggestionof the woman, they opened the window,ancl pushed the chair on whicli George yvas lyingwithin the current of air,he picked up the card,over which oneofthe castors had passed.It wasa small photographic portrait. <strong>The</strong> boy looked atit,and recognised, with surprise, that it was thelikeness ofMr. Deane — that it was a sac-simile ofa portrait he hacl looked at and handled a verylittlewhile ago. He put it down upon the table,and made to Mr. Felton the business-like suggestionthat a doctor had better be sent for, and hehad better be sent to fetch him, yvhich was immediatelyacceded to.When Jim returned, bringing with him ageneral practitioner, he was told that Mr. Dallashad " come to," but was " uncommon weak andconfused, and crying like a child when he wasn'tshivering," so that Jim felt his chances of an interviewwere small indeed." I can't see him, of course, andIwanted
He brought me in, hisself.""Yes,yes,Iknow," said the male domestic,"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 223to, most partic'lar.yvith importance; " but you can't see him, andthere's no good in your waitingabout here.Lookround at eleven to-morrow, and I'll see what canbe done for you."Jim had nothing for it but to go disconsolatelyaway. So he went.While George Dallas and Clare Carrutherswere talking together at Sir Thomas Boldero'shouse in Chesham-place, yvhile the hours — neverto be forgotten by either — were passing overthem, the same hours were witnessing an interviewnot less momentous for Harriet Routh andher beautiful foe.Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge was ready to receiveher visitor; and as her coquetry and vanityyvere omnivorous, much as she despised women,and sincerely- as she enjoy-ed the knowledge of herpower to make most of them envious and miserable,she had dressed herself very carefully. Shewas just a little bored by- her present mode of
224 BLACK SHEEP.existence. Routh could not be much with her;and though shehacl brought herself to believe thatshe really did feel an absorbing passion for him,somehow orother it left agood deal ofher thoughtsand her time unabsorbed, ancl she did not exactlyknow how to dispose of either. <strong>The</strong> romance ofthis kind of incognito life was all very- yvell in itsway, which was a pleasant way, and as far as itwent, which certainly was very far, but not quitefar enough. And she did get horridly bored,there yvas no denying — it. When Routh's dailyletter had been read for she exacted that of him,of him who hated letter-writing, and whose hardactuality of nature needed all the incitement ofher beauty, her coquetry, and her artfulness torouse him to sentiment and givehis languagetheeloquence of love — she hadnothing but novels tofall back upon,and the vague prospectof a supplementarynote or two, or trying on a new dress,orthinking what theatre she yvould go to, or whatdirection her afternoon drive should take. Shewas glad of the chance of seeing a new face,thoughit was only- a woman's; and then the reasonfor receivingher was so sound,it was impos-
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 225sible Routh could object.Indeed, she could notsee the force of his objections to her going outmore, and seeing people in general; it could notmatter now,and yvould sound better hereafter thanthis hidden residencein London; however, itcould not last long, and it was very romantic,very.She had not had much chance in all herprevious prosperous life of playing at romance,and she liked it; she yvould not like it,ifit continuedto mean boredom, much longer, but therewas no danger of that.No. 4 Hollington - square was one of thoseLondon houses whicli every one knows, furnishedfor people who take houses for the season,prettily,flimsily, sparingly; a house which tenants withmoney and taste coulcl make very striking andattractive, yvhich tenants yvithout money and withouttaste yvould find very tolerable in its originalcondition. Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge possessedboth; and as she made it arule to have every advantageprocurable by the use of either, the drawing-roomin which she awaited the coming of hervisitor was as pretty and coquettish a room ascould easily have been seen.VOL. III.She had chosen aQ
226 BLACK SHEEP.becoming costume, and an equally becoming attitude;and shelooked beautiful indeed, in her richmorning dress of black silk, facedwith rosecolouredsatin ancl costly lace. <strong>The</strong> masses of herdark hair werecoiled smoothly round her head,heryvhite arms were without ajewel to turn the eyefrom their shapely beautyr. She glanced at one ofthe many mirrors in the room as the page announced" alady," and felt perfectly satisfied.<strong>The</strong> room was long and narrow, though notlarge;and as Harriet walked from the door tothe hearth-rug on which Mrs. freton P. Bembridgestood,having gracefullyrisen in an attitudeespecially intended for her visitor's admiration,that ladyhad time to observe her appearance,andto experience a certain vague sense of discomfortnot altogether unlike alarm.She saw a faceyvhich sheremembered, but with yvhich she couldnot connect any- distinct recollection; a pale, fair,determined face with smooth light-brown hairframing a broad loyv brow, yvith keen piercingblue ey-es, which looked steadily at her, and neverdropped their fine fringed lids,blue eyesin whichpow-er, will, and knowledge dwelt, as the shallow-
" INFORMATION RECEIVED." 227souled woman they looked at, and through, felt,but did not understand. A face, so fixed in itsexpressionofirremediable woe, a face so lost withall its self-possession, so full of despair, with all itsmight of will,that a duller intellect than that ofameagre-brained woman must ha\-e recognised astory in it such as happily few human beings haveto tell or to conceal.Harriet did not speak, ormake any sign of salutation; but when she hadquite reached her, Mrs. Ireton P.Bembridge recoveredherself,anclsaidwithallheraccustomed grace:" Iam so much obliged to you for calling.Pray take a seat.IthinkIknow to whatIamindebted for the pleasure ofyour visit;" ancl thenshe sank gracefully back into her low chair, andsmiled her very best smile.<strong>The</strong> very best ofthose suited to the feminine capacity^, of course.Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge had quite a differentset of smiles for men." Iam quite sure you do not," said Harriet,in alow firm voice, and without availing herself"of the invitation to be seated. Iam quite sureyou have no notion of my business here.shall know it ;itis important, but brief.''You
228 BLACK SHEEP."Madam," said the other, sitting upright,and turning slightly pale.Harriet extended her hand with a gesturehabitual to her,and said:" Stay. You must hear mefor your own sake.You will do well to hear me quietly, and to giveme your very best attention. IfIdo not makethe impression on you yvhich Idesire and intendto make, there is one other person beside myselfwho will suffer by my failure, and that person isyou."She dropped her hand and drew her breath.Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge looked at her yvithfrightened distended eyes,speechless." You thinkIhave come on a false pretext,andIhave done so,to a certain extent.Youlost an article of ornamentor dress at Homburg?"" Idid— a locket," said Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge,alittlerelieved, andglancing unconsciouslytowards her silver purse, which was at hand, andthrough w-hosemeshes gold shone.'' Iknow, but Ihave not brought you yourlocket.You lost something else at Homburg,
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 229andIhave brought it, to prove that y-ou hadbetter hear me, and that you must."Ancl thenHarriet laid upon the table, near by the side of thesilver purse, a crushed and faded flower, whoserich luscious blossom had been of the deepestcrimson in the time of its bloom, when it hadnestled against a woman's silken hair."What is it? What do you mean? GoodGod, who are you?" said Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge,shrinking back as Harriet made the onestep necessary to enable her to reach the table." Iam Stewart Routh's wife," she replied,slowly-, and without changing her tone, or releasingthe other womanfrom her steady gaze.This time Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge sprang toher feet, yvith a face as white as death." Don't be frightened," said Harriet, with thefaintest glimmer of a contemptuous smile, whichwas the last expression haying relation to Mrs.Ireton P. Bembridge personally, that showed itselfin her face,until the end. Idid not"comehere to inspire you yvith any fear of me;Idid notcome here on your account at all, or onmine; butfor another motive."
230 BLACK SHEEP."What, what is it?" said her hearer, nervouslyreseatingherself." My husband's safety," said Harriet; and asshe spoke the words, Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridgefelt that anillusion was rolled away from her forever. He belonged to this pale stern yvoman,whose unsparing eyes werefixed upon her, whoseunfaltering voice had not a toneofdoubt or yveaknessin it. Inevery line ofher countenance wasthe assertion ofher right, against w-hich the otherfelt powerless, and in whose presence her self-confidencewasutterly subdued.Calm and still, Harriet Routh stood beforeher, her head bent forward, her hands clasped anclpressed steadily against her waist." Ihave no time to lose," she said," and thebriefest explanation will,in this case, be the best.When that flower fell from your hair over thebalcony at the Kursaal at Homburg, it fell at myfeet. Iwas on the terrace beneath. If once,during the time you and he stood there, my husbandhadlooked away from you ancl over the rail,he would have seenme. But he did not. Ihadcome to that particular spot accidentally, thoughI
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 231was there that night becauseIsuspected, becauseIknew, that he was there yvith you, andI "yvouldnot condemn him unseen,unconvicted.Cowering before her, her pale face in hershaking hands, the other womanlistened." Iheard all he said to you. Don't start; itwas very pretty. Iknoyv it all,by heart; everyintonation, every hesitation — all the lying gamutfrom end to end. Iheard all the story he toldyouof his marriage:every- incident,every declaration,every sentiment, was a lie! He told youhe had married a poor, passionate, silly girl, whohad compromisedherself throughher undisciplinedand unreturned love for him, for pity — for aman'spity for a woman! A lie. He told you his wifewas an oddity, a nervous recluse, oblivious of allbut her health and her valetudinarian fancies;thatshe had no love for him, or any one; no mind, notastes, no individuality ; that his life was a drearyone, and the oscillation ofaheart wliich hadneverbeen hers towards so irresistible a woman as you(and he — was right, so far; you are very, verybeautiful Isaw that, and granted it to myself,at once) was no sin, no dishonesty, against her.
232 BLACK SHEEP.All a lie. Look at me,ify-ou have the little courageneeded for looking at me, and tell me ifitcould be true!"Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge looked at her, butonly to drop her head into her hands, and moanin the presence of the yvhite face and the steadysparkling blue eyes." This was the lie he told you concerning me.<strong>The</strong> lie he told you about himself was more importantin its results; and as it flattered you, ofcourse you gaveit ready credence.No doubt youbelieve it still, thoughyou must knoyv him betternoyv. He told you a story of his misunderstood,undervalued life; of family pride, and grandeur,and wealth — of family ties severed in consequenceof the charitable, chivalrous, self-sacrificing marriagehe had made; ofobscurity nobly borne andtoil willingly encountered,of talents unremittinglyexercised without fame or reward,ofhigh aspirationsand future possibilities, if only the agency ofyvealth and the incentive of love might be his.And this flimsy tale caught your fancy and yourfaith.It was so charming to fill the vacantplacein the misunderstood man's life, so delightful to be
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 233at once queen and consoler, to supply all the deficienciesof this deplorable wife.It was just theprogramme to catch the fancy of a woman likeyou,beautiful, vain, and empty-."<strong>The</strong>re yvas neither scorn nor angerin Harriet'svoice; there wasmerely a dash of reflection, asifshe had strayed for a moment from the track ofher discourse." But it was all a lie," she yvent on." Hisstory ofme, and his story of himself, were bothequally false. Into the truth, as regards myself,Ido notchoose to enter.Itis needless,and you areas incapable of understanding as you are indifferentto it. <strong>The</strong>truth about himImean to tell youfor his sake."" Why ?" stammered the listener." Because he is in danger, andI yvant tosave him, becauseIlove him— Aim, mind you,not the man you have fancied him, not the persuasiveblandlover you have foundhim, no doubt;forIconclude he has not changed the characterhe assumed that night upon the balcony; buttho hard, the cruel, the desperate man he is.Itell vou" — she drew a little nearer, and again
234 BLACK SHEEP.Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge shrank from her —"he is a swindler, a liar, and a thief; he haslived by such means for years, was living bythem when he married me. <strong>The</strong>y are failinghim now, and he feels the game is up here.What his exact plan is,of courseIdo not knoyv;but that it includes getting you and your fortuneintohis powerIhave no doubt."Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge shivered nowunderthe unsparing gaze.If only this woman wouldturn her eyes away from her, she thought, inthe midst of her fear and amazement — the ey-esthat pierced her, that suffocated her, like thegripe of a fierce hand upon her throat. Shedid not know his plan.No; but yvho could lookat her and doubt that, if she chose to know it,she could force the information from her hearer?Who could listen to her cold even tones, anddream ofresisting their implacable power?" Whatever his plan may be," Harriet continued,"he is entirely absorbed in it, and heis indifferent to all beside.Mind,Idon't sayyou count for nothing in this:you are too vainto believe,Iam too wise to say, anything of the
kind."INFORMATION RECEIVED." 235But your beauty, which he likes, yvouldnever have tempted him to an insane disregardof his safety, would never have kept him herewhen the merest prudence should have drivenhim far away. He w7ants you, but he wantsyour money more urgently and desperately. Heneeds time to win you ancl it, no matter howhe means to do it, ancl time is what he has notto give, time is the one stake it is ruin to himto risk in this game. Do you hear me? Doyouunderstand me?"<strong>The</strong> blank white face feebly looked a negative." No. <strong>The</strong>nIwill put it moreplainly. Slyhusband,your lover, the man yvho is trying toruin you in reputation, that he may have thepoyver to ruin y-ou in fortune, is in imminentclanger. Flight, and flight alone, could savehim; but he refuses to fly, because he will notleave you."" What— whathas he done ?"" He has been concerned in a robbery," saidHarriet, with perfect composure, " andIknowthe police are on the right track, and will soon
236 BLACK SHEEP.come up with him. But ho is desperate, andrefuses to go.Idid not know yvhy until yesterday,whenIfound — y-ou had followed him fromHomburg by arrangement, of course. Tush,woman! don't try to deny- it. What does itmatter to me? A lie more or less, a villanymore or less, makes no difference in him forme; butIknew then why he was obstinatelybent on waiting for his fate."" I— Idon't believe you," said Mrs. IretonP. Bembridge; ancl she half rose from her chair,and stretched her hand toyvards the bell.Harriet stoppedher by the lifting of a finger.But"0 yes, you do," she said; "you believemeimplicitly. You have been afraid of this man—even yvhen he has flattered you, and yvon uponyou most; you have never felt sure of him, andyou knowIam telling you the truth. But youare weak, and you would like to think you hadnot been quite so egregiously deceived.Icannot,for his sake, leave you this comfortYoulost a locket at Homburg — a golden egg-shapedtoy — with two portraits in it, one of yourself,the other of a young man, a country-man of yours,
"INFORMATIONRECEIVED." 237an admirer. You prized the thing, you showed— it to my husband, you talked of its value isthis true?"" Yes, yes,itis true — what then?"" This then: he stole that locket from you,as he sat by you, in y^our carriage, and talkedsentiment and compliment to yrou.He stole thelocket — it does not sound nice or heroic; hestole it,Itellyou."" Impossible— impossible.""AmIin the confidence of y-our maid?DoIknow the contents of your jewel-case? Butthis is folly, this is pretence; you know in yoursoul thatIam telling you the truth.And nowfor the reason of my telling it. If you thinkIam a jealous woman, come here to expose myhusband to my rival,and take him from her byeven such desperate means, you make my taskharder, by giving me blind folly to deal with.Icame with no thought of myself or you:thoughIdo, indeed, save you by coming,Ihave nocare, no yvish to do so; you are nothing to me,but a danger in his path. That his safety yvillbe yours too, is your fortune, not my doing. I
238 BLACK SHEEP.care not; it might be your destruction, and itwould be all one to me. Iam not jealous ofyou; you are nothing to me, and he has longbeen lost to me.But he must not be lost tohimself too, and for thatIam here. Ican donothing with or for him more, but y-ou can:heloves you, after his fashion, and you can savehim."111 — Isave him — from what? how? what doyou mean?should I,ifIcould?"If you have told me the truth, whyCalmly and contemplatively Harriet looked ather; calmly she said, as ifto herself:" AndI am sure he thinks you love him!Wonderful, very wonderful; but," she went onwith quicker utterance, " that does not matter.You can save him. Iwill answer your lastquestion first : to convince you that this must bedone, for your own sake, will save time. Youdid not know his characteruntil now, butIthink you know something of his temper;Ithinkyou understand that he is a desperate man. Supposeyou break with him now — ancl y-our mindhas been made up to do that for several minutes
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 239— suppose you determine to save yrourself fromthis swindler, this liar, this thief, to keep yourcharacter, and y-our money, and your beauty fora different fate, do you think he will let you go ?How do you propose to escape him?know.You don'tYou are terribly frightened at the idea.Ihave come to tell you."" You are a dreadful woman— you are ayyicked, dreadful yvoman," said Mrs. Ireton P.Bembridge yvith amoan." Yes," said Harriet," I am a wicked, dreadfulwoman, but you need not fear me, thoughyouhave done me some wrong too, even accordingto your code,Ithink. Rouse yourself, andlisten to me whileItellyou yvhat you must do."Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge tried to obey her;she shook back the hair which had fallen overher face, and looked up yvith eyes less scared,and more intelligent." If my husband has not left England by tomorrow,"said Harriet with clear, distinct emphasis," it will be too late to save him from theclutches of the law. Nothing will induce himto leave England while y-ou remain here. What!"
240 BLACK SHEEP.she said, with a sudden rush of burning red intoher face and an indescribablefierce change of" toneandmanner. — What!You yvere going,werey-ou and together? Tell me instantly — — instantly,Isay what is thisIseein your face ?"Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge caught at Harriet'sgown, and stammered:" Don't, don't;I'll teU you!"" Do you thinkIam going to strike you orkill you;do you thinkIwould touch jou withone finger ?" said Harriet, in her former tone,and drawing her dress from the woman's grasp"with a quiet determined movement. Tell meinstantly, and don't fear. You were going away— and together? Where yvere you going, andwhen?""To Neyv York— on Saturday."Harriet Routh turned abruptly from her, anclfor one minute's duration of awful silence herface was hidden. <strong>The</strong>n, with a sound like a sighand a sob, but such a sound as the listener hadnever heard before, she resumed her former position.<strong>The</strong> other dared not look at her for manyminutes. When she did, Harriet's face fixed
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 241itself for ever on her memory as the ideal of theface of one yvho had died of sheer pain." Thank you. <strong>The</strong> acknowledgment at leastis brave and true, ancl makes the rest easy.AmIto conclude you do not wish now to carry outthis arrangement?"" 0no, no. For God's sake, saveme!"" In saying him. Yes. You must leave Englandto-night, ancl he must follow you to-morrow.Don't be frightened;Isaid follow, not meet you.You must really go.He could not be deceived in this.No pretence will avail.You mustcross the Channel to-night, and telegraph to himto-morrow from some French town, yvhich youcan lea\-e upon the instant, if yrou choose.is your ownaffair.ThatYou may return to Englandto-morrow night,if y-ou please, and reach Liverpoolin time to sail for New York on Saturday.Thus you will escape him, and be free. He willnot follow you against your will to New York,yvhere you are protected by your friends andyour position.You have but to write and forbidhis doing so."" I think — IthinkIunderstand," said Mrs,VOL. III.B
242 BLACK SHEEP.Ireton P. Bembridge, in a voice full of submissionand entreaty; "but how amIto accountfor going away?"" At what hour do you expect him here today?"asked Harriet, in a business-like tone,without noticing the question." At nine in the evening.""It is now nearly three.Folkestone starts at six.<strong>The</strong> tidal train forYour arrangements fornext Saturday are all made, of course?"" <strong>The</strong>y are." Wonder and fear and a strangesense of dependence on this dreadful womanweregrowingon Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge with everymoment." <strong>The</strong>nall is easy— if youcan'trust your maid."" Ican, implicitly ;but what must she do ?"" Settle everything here, and take your luggageto Liverpool.You will not be able tomake an hour's delay on your return; you mustgo straight through.You must travel without aservant for once — no — take your page; he isbetter out of the way — "" Iwill do as you tell me; but you have notsaid howIam to account for going."
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 243" No," said Harriet, absently; " but that willbe easy. He will think you a fool, and easily— frightened, but your vanity must bear that it'snot aheavyprice to pay for safety."<strong>The</strong>re was a pretty yvriting-table in the room,covered yvith elegant trifles. Harriet approachedit, and opened a blotting-book. Some sheets ofthick perfumed paper, yvith dainty monogram andmotto, lay within it. On one of them she wroteas folloyvs :"AU is discovered.Your wife has been here,and has terrified me by her threats. Our schememust be abandoned. Icannot stay an hour here,not even to consult you;Iam in fear of mylife. Come to me at once, to Amiens. Ileaveto-night, and yvill telegraph from thence.If youdo not join me on Saturday morning,Ishallconclude you have givenme up."She rose, and desired Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridgeto take her place." Copy that," she said, briefly; but beforethe other took up «the pen, she read the lines,and exclaimed:" Idare not — Idare not; he willkill you."
244 BLACK SHEEP."That is my business," said Harriet, fiercely."Write!"She copied the letter slowly, and tremblingas she wrote, folded, sealed, and directed it." When is it to be sent?"" WhenIhave seen you off. Iwill take carehe receives it," said Harriet, as she put it in herpocket." Now go and give your directions, andmake your preparations."<strong>The</strong>y looked at each other for a moment, andMrs. Ireton P. Bembridge left the room withoutanother word.When she yvas alone, Harriet satdown by the table yvearily, and covered her faceyvith her hands.Time yvent on, but she did notmove. Servants cameinand wentout of the room,but she took no notice. At lengthMrs. Ireton P.Bembridge entered in travelling dress, and with apaler face than anymirror she had everlooked intohad ever reflected.At the same moment a carriagecame to the door." You are quite ready?"" Iam."" It is time to go."" Let us go. One minute. Mrs.Routh,I — I
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 245don't thinkIquite knew whatIwas doing. Canyou forgive me?" She halfextended her hand,then drew it back, as she looked into Harriet'smarble face."Forgive you! What do you mean?Youare nothing to me, woman;or, if anything, onlythe executioner of a sentence independentyou.Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge did not attempt tospeak again. As they went out of the door, atelegram washanded to her. It was from Routh." Impossible to see youto-night. Letter bypost."She handed the paper silently to Harriet, whoread it, and said nothinguntil they wereseatedinthe carriage." Does that make any difference ?" then askedMrs. Ireton P. Bembridge timidly-." To you, none. Possibly it mayr to me; heneed not know so soon."Not another yvordyvas spoken between them.Harriet stood on theplatform at the railway stationuntil the train moved off, and as Mrs. Ireton P.Bembridge caught the last glimpse of her sternwhite face, she threw herself back in the carriage,of
246 BLACK SHEEP.in which she was fortunately alone,in anhystericalagony of tears.Routh did not comehome that night;he sent amessage that business detained him in the City,and thathe wishedhis letters and some clothes sentto him in the morning." This is well," said Hamet; "he is makinghis preparations, and he does not wish to see mebefore he must.<strong>The</strong> night can hardly pass withoutmy hearing or seeing George."Late that evening Harriet posted the letterwhich Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge had written.But the evening and the night passed, and GeorgeDallas didnot come or send. Tlie hours were fullofthe agonyof suspensefor Harriet. <strong>The</strong>y-broughtanother kind of suffering to Mr. Felton and hisnephew.At eight o'clock that evening George Dallas,alias Paul Ward, as the police phrase had it, yvasarrested at Mr.Felton's lodgings,chargedwith themurder ofMr. Felton's son. George's agent haddone his work well, and the notes changed atAmsterdam, which the old bookseller's death had
"INFORMATION RECEIVED." 247released from their hiding-place and putin circulation,had furnished the clue to Mr. Tatlow'sdexterous fingers.<strong>The</strong> notes bore Arthur Felton'sinitials; they had been paid to him by the LiverpoolBank; they were indorsed in full, yvith datetoo,by PaulWard." And a case," said Mr. Tatlow, who had aturn for quotation, " neater, completer, in everyfeater,Idon't thinkIever wasin."
CHAPTER XLAT THE TIDAL TRAIN." <strong>The</strong>re's a job for you to-day, Jim," said theirreproachable Harris to Mr. James Swain, whenhe presented himself at half-past eight at Routh'shouse,according to his frequentcustom." Ididn't come after no jobs this mornin',"" said Jim; Iconic to see the missis."" Ah, but you can't see her, she ain't up, andthe job isparticular wanted to be done."Jim looked moody and discontent,but cheeredup when Harrisrepresented that he might see Mrs.Routh on his return. <strong>The</strong> "job" yvas the deliveryof Routh's clothes and letters, as directed, at hischambers in Tokenhouse-yard. <strong>The</strong> boy wastroubled in his mind, irresolute. George Dallas'ssudden illness,the photograph he had seen, thesethings added to the perplexity he was in already.Perhaps he had better speak toMrs. Routh first;
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.249he did not know;at all events, he might tell herwhathad occurred yesterday, without mentioningthe portrait, and see what effect it had upon her.He had thought about it all,until,between his imperfectknowledge of facts, his untaught intelligence,and his genuine but puzzled goodwill,hewas quite bewildered. He had brought with himthat morning, with a vague notion that it mightperhaps be advisable to show it to Mrs. Routh,buta settled resolution to show it to Mr. Dallas, theobject yvhich he kept carefully- secreted in the holein the wall at home, and as he trudged away Citywards,carrying a small leather bag containing therequired clothes and letters, he turnedit overando\-er inliis grimy pocket and grew moreand morethoughtfuland depressed.Arrived at Tokenhouse-yard, the clerk tookthe bagfrom him,and suggested that hehad betterwait,in case Mr. Routh should require his furtherservices. So Jim waited, and presently Routhcame out into the passage. Jim's private opinionof Stewart Routh's character and disposition hasbeen already stated;of his personal appearance heentertained an equally low one, and much opposed
250 BLACK SHEEP."to the general sentiment. An ill-looking, downlookingdogIcall him," Jim had said to himselfmore than once; " more like the Pirate ofthe Persian Gulf, or the Bandit of Bokarer,Ithink, than anybody asIknoyvs out of thepictures."More ill-looking, more down-lookingthan everJim Swain thought Stewart Routh when he spoketo him that morning. His face was colourless,hiseyes bloodshot,the glance troubled and wandering,his voice harsh and uneven. He gave Jim a brieforder to meethim at the London-bridge railwaystationthe same evening, at a quarter to six. I""shall have a message for you," said Routh. Bepunctual, remember." And then he turned ayvayabruptlyand wentinto his room, shutting the doorroughly." He ain't in the best of humours,even of hisown,and they'renoneon 'em good," thought Jim,as he turned out of Tokenhouse-yard and took hisyvay westwardagain,keeping his handpermanentlyin his pocket this time.awaited him at Routh's house.A fresh disappointmentMrs. Routh hadgone out immediately after she had breakfasted.
AT THE TIDAL TRALN. 251Did she know he wanted to see her ? Jim asked.Harris was rather tickled by the question."I say," he remarked, "you're getting on,Jim; you'll be as impident as a cock sparrowpresently. Ididn't happen to tell her;butifI'ad,do y-ou think she'd a stayed in to give you thechance ?"" Yes,Ido; wot's more, I'm sure she would,"said Jim, and walked moodily way,leaving Mr.Harris in a finethreshold.attitude of surprise upon theWhen that functionary finally- left offlooking after the boy, and shut the door, he didso to the accompaniment of aprolonged whistle.It yvas only ten o'clock, and Jim had been toldto go to Mr. Dallas's at eleven.<strong>The</strong> intervaltroubled him;he could not settle his mind to thepursuit of oddjobs. He did not mind "hangingabout;" he would hang about Piccadilly till thetime came.But when Jim reached the house inwhich Mr. Felton and Mr. Dallas lodged, he wassurprised to find it an object of lively curiosity to anumber of persons who were crowding the pavement,notwithstanding the active interference ofapoliceman, endeavouring to clear a passage for two
252 BLACK SHEEP.ladies whose carriage was before the door, and oneof whom was evidently in the deepest distress.Jimplunged at onceinto the heart of theconcourse,and asked a number of eager questions, to whichhe received simultaneous but contradictory replies."He's dead!" "No, he isn't." "He's hisbrother,Itell you;Iheard the cook a-tellin' themilk-boy." "He ain't his brother; the old 'un'shis uncle;andhe'sbeen andmurderedhis cousin."Such were a few of the sentences Jim caught as hiscuriosity and anxiety rose to frenzy." Wot is it? wot is it? Do tell me. Is anythingwrong with Mr. Dallas ?" he asked imploringly-of the servant who had opened the door tothe two ladies (who had at last succeeded inentering the house), ancl was just about to shut itin the faces of a few scores of anxious inquirersendeavouring to pierce the depths of thc hall,and"to see through the dining-room doors. Don'tyou know me?Iwas here yesterday.Ihave beenhere before.Iwas to see Mr. Dallas at eleven.Can'tIsee him ? Is he yvorse ?"<strong>The</strong> womandid know the boy, and she at onceadmitted him.
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.253"Come in," she said; "I'll tell you inside.It's a deal worse than his health that's the matter."So Jim ycanished into the house, a distinctionwliich,being unattainable by themselves, was regardedyvith much indignation bythe crowd. Temporarilydispersed by the active policeman, theygathered again, hoping the boy yvould come out,when they might pounce upon and extract informationfrom him. But they waited in vain:theboy did not come out. <strong>The</strong> carriage still remainedat the door, and in about an hour a gentleman ofgrave andbusy aspectissuedfrom the maddeninglymysterious mansion, stepped into the vehicle, andwas driven rapidly away. <strong>The</strong> crowd was not inluck; no one heard the order given to the coachman.<strong>The</strong>n such silence and desolation as canever fall on Piccadillyfell upon the scene, and thegay-looking, brightly-decorated house obstinatelyhid its secret.<strong>The</strong> womanwho recognised Jim told him thestoryof the events whichhad occurred, in the hall,speaking ill a hurried yvhisper and with muchgenuine womanly compassion. Jim heard her
254 BLACK SHEEP.with a beating heart and shaking limbs.As theboy leaned against the wall, regardless of thedamaging properties of his tousled head resting onthe spotless paint, he wondered if this was likefainting, and w-hether he should be able to keepfrom " going off" like Mr. Dallas."We're strangers to Mr.Felton, of course,"said the woman; "and it's natural everybody ascan shouldlike to keep their troubles to themselves,for it don't do no good tellin' of 'em, and peopledon't think no more ofyou;but there's things ascan and things as can't be hid, and them as can'thas been a takin' place here."" Yes," said Jim, faintly; for the words hehad heard in the crowd were ringing inhis ears;" yes,yes;but tell me"" I'll tell y-ou, as plain asI can make it out.Mr.Felton had someletters yesterday — letters ascome from America — and there were a carte ofhisson in 'em;he hasn't seen nor yet heard of himfor ev-er so long;and when Mr. Dallas seethecarte he knew as the man was the same as wasmurdered, and neverfound out,in the spring.""Well?" said Jim. "Yes? Goon." <strong>The</strong>
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.255faint feehng yvas subsiding; he was beginning tounderstand." It were an awful shock for Mr. Dallas tofind out as his cousin had been murdered, and tohave to break it to the father;and no wonder hefainted over it. Nobody knows how he did it,but there must have been a dreadful scene; forIshouldn't ha' known Mr. Felton from the deadyvhenIwent to ask, through their not answeringJames's knock, whether they was a goin' to ha\eany dinner.He was sittin' in his chair, whiteand quiet; aud Mr. Dallas — he as had been tookso bad himself in the beginnin' — he was kneelingon the ground beside him, andIthink his armwas round his neck;butIcouldn't see his face,for he only put out his hand, and says he, ' No,thank you, Mary; go away for a little, please.'Iwaited in the passage, butIneverheard a wordpass between them; and we didn't know whatevercould be the matter, for we onlyknew about theletters after Mr. Dallas had been took up."" Mr. Dallas took up ? <strong>The</strong>y said that outside,butIthoughtitmust be their larks.Woteverdo you mean? Go on — go on;tellme, quick !"
256 BLACK SHEEP." It's quite true;no larks at all. It might beabout eight or nine, and yve was all sittin' downstairs,a talkin' about the parlours, and a veryquick ring comes to the 'all-door. James opensit, and in comes two men, very short and business-like,wliich they must see Mr. Dallas, andcan't take no denial.So James goes to the doorto ask if Mr. Dallas yvill see them, but they'retoo quick for James, and walk in; and in twominutes there's a great to do and explanation, andMr. Dallasis tookup.""But wot for? — wot had he done?"askedJim."Murdered his cousin, don'tItell you!""said the woman a little snappishly. Ain'tI a-tellin' of y-ou as plain asIcan speak. He'd beenand murdered this other gentleman wot nobodyknew,in the spring, and then he sets the police alookin' after his cousin, and just tells them enoughto make them know as the other gentleman wasliim, which they'd never had a notion of before,so they come and took him on suspicion of themurder, and Mr. Felton yvent ayvay with him.We was all there, when theyput the handcuffs,
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.257on him, and his uncle he stopped him in the 'all,as they was goin to the cab, and says he,' George, my boy,Ido this, that no one maythink I'm deceived;' and he put his hands onhisshoulders and kisses him, as if he was a woman,before us all."silent.Jim listened, pale and breathless, but quite"Mr. Felton were out prettynear all night;and when he come 'ome, the gentleman as is herenow were with liim.He hasn't been to bed atall, andIhaven't seen him, but just yvhenIletthe lady in, which she's a syveet-lookin' creature,and has been cryin' dreadful."" Let me see Mr.Felton," said Jim, catchingthe womanby her dress, and speaking with theutmost eagerness and passion, "let me see him.Icame to see Mr. Dallas about this business, letme see Mr.Felton."" You came! why what have you got to doyvith it?" said the yvoman ; her curiosity vehementlyaroused." Iwill tell you all about it," said Jim,adroitly; "you shall hear it all afterwards — a cusVOL. III.
258 BLACK SHEEP.r'ous story as — any one ever had to tell. Mr. Dallasnever didit not he,1know better than that. Ican tell Mr. Felton a great deal."" Imust ask if he will see you," said thewoman; " ifhe won't,perhaps tlie lawyer — "" No, no, it must be Mr. Felton himself.Let meinto the room."Sheoffered no resistence, and in anotherminute Jim was in the presence of a group composedof Mr. Felton, a grave gentleman, yvholooked like a lawyer, a beautiful girl, who wasClare Carruthers, and a plain, clever-lookingyoung woman, who was Clare's cousin, Mrs.Stanhope.<strong>The</strong> lawyer and Mrs. Stanhope wereseated by a table in close conversation, whichthey carried on in lower tones. Clare Carruthersancl Mr. Felton stood upon the hearthrug, thegirl's goldenhead wasresting on her companion'sshoulder, and she was crying silently but unrestrained."Is he very, very ill?" she had said, a littlebefore Jim entered the room." Not seriously so, my dear, and indeed nothingcould be more fortunate than that his
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.259strength failed him so completely. It gives ustime, andIneed it,Iam so bewildered evenyet. " Did Mr. Lowther say— say that he was not— not broughtbefore the magistrates, not broughtinto that dreadful place, to-day?" said Clare, hervoice hardly audible for her sobs." Yes, my dear. Think a little,Icould notbe here if he had not so much respite. Clare,Iam a chief witness;Imust be there, you know, totell them about — about my son — " He paused,and closed his eyes for a few minutes." <strong>The</strong> case was calledpro forma this morning,but Mr. Lowther's partner,his brother,easilyprocureda delay. George was too ill to appear, buthe sent me yvord that there yvas nothing seriouslywrong.""Can no one see him?" asked Clare imploringly."0, Mr. Felton, can no one goto him?Can no one give him any comfort — help him tobear it ? Are they so cruel as that, are they socruel?"" Hush, dear, it is not cruel; it is right. Xoone can see him or the present but Mr.Lowther —
260 BLACK SHEEP.Mr. James Lowther, who is with him now,Idaresay, who will be here this afternoon."" How can you bear it? hoyv are you ever tobear it?" she said."My dear,Imust bear it; andIhave timebefore mein which to suffer: this is the time foraction.You must help me, Clare, my dear,bravegirl. Isent for you for this;Isent for you, ' athis desire, my child. His last words were, Mymother, my mother, she is coming home tomorrow.'Itold him to be satisfied, she shouldbe kept from the knowledge of all this." He"shuddered from head to foot. Clare, are youstrong enough to redeem my promise ? Can youhide all that has happened from her ? Can yoube yvith her, watching her, keeping a calm facebefore her ? My dear,haveyou strength for tliis ?"She lifted her golden head, andlooked at himwith her innocent fearless eyes." Ihave strength to do anything that he—that George desires,and you think is right."" <strong>The</strong>n that is your share of our dreadfultask,my dear.share."God knows it is no light or easy
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN. 261Clare's tears streamed forth again. Shenestled closer to him, and whispered:" Is there no — no hope?"" None," he replied." Ifit had beenpossiblefor George to be mistaken,Ihave had the sightof my own eyes. Clare, they brought me myson's coat! Ay, like Jacob, they brought memy son's coat. My own last gift to him, Clare."His eyes yvere dry and bright, but their socketshad deepened since the day before, and his voicehad the febrile accent of intense grief and passionrestrained by apowerful will." What George must have suffered!" shesaid,still in a broken whisper, her tear-stained faceuponhis breast." Ah, yes,itis all dim to me still. Mr. LowtherandIhave been searching out the truth allnight,but we arestillin confusion. Tatlow iscomingpresently, and you must go ayvay, my dear,you must go home. You have your share to do,and need strength to do it. Youshall know allIlearn from hour to hour. Mrs. Stanhope, willyou— who is this ? Wrhat brings you here, boy?"" Sir," stammered Jim, yvho, though he had
262 BLACK SHEEP.the wizened mannishlook peculiar to his tribe, wasonly aboy, and was desperately frightened — " sir,Icame to tellyou thatIknoyv the man as didn'tdo it, andIknow the man as did."Mr. Felton loosed his hold of Clare, and cameforward.Mr. Lowther rose hurriedly from hisseat;he did not share the blank, incredulous surpriseof Mr. Felton. <strong>The</strong> two ladies drew neareach other." Who are you?" askedMr. Lowther.Jim told him." What are you come for ? What" beganMr.Felton; but Mr. Lowther made a sign to himtobe silent, and addressingJim in a quiet,friendlyvoice, took him by the armand led him to a chair." Sit down there, my boy," he said, " anddon't be afraid.You must have come here ofyour own free will, and we do not doubt you havecome for a good purpose. You hav7e somethingimportant to tell Mr. Felton. You know Mr.Dallas,Ithink, and 1gather from what you saidjust now that you know what he is accused of.""Jim assented by a downcast nod. <strong>The</strong>re, tell usall about it. Take your time, and don't get fright-
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.263ened."So saying, and giving the boy areassuringpat upon the shoulder, the lawyer sat downupon a chair opposite toJim, and spread his handsupon his knees in an attitude of serious,but notstern, attention. <strong>The</strong> two yvomen looked on insilent suspense,andMr. Felton,guidedby aglancefrom Mr. Lowther, moved a httle to the back ofthe chair on which Jim was seated." Come," said Mr. Lowther, giving him anotherpat, " we are all anxious to hear yvhat youhave got to say.Speak up,my boy."" Sir," began Jim, " Ishould like to ask yousomething first. Is it true, as the gentleman atwasmurdered was Mr. Dallas's owncousin?"" Only too true. He was Mr.Felton's son,"and the lawyer eyed the unhappy father, asmeasuringthe strength he could command to bearthis new trial. Mr. Felton came to Jim's side,and touchedhim kindly on the arm." Don't beafraid to speak before me," he said." Youmay;and don'tkeep us waitinganylonger.my goodboy."<strong>The</strong>n Jimmade a desperate effort, and told hisstory; told it in his ignorant blundering fashionif
264 BLACK SHEEP.told it with circumlocution and hesitation, butnever interrupted.Mr.Lowther heard him withouta word, and held Mr. Felton and the twowomen silent by the unspoken counselof hisglance." Ihad done many an odd job at the house inSouth Moiton-street," said the boy, when he hadtold them a gooddeal about himself, in aramblingwayr, " andIknowed Mr. Routh well, butIdon'tsuppose he knowed me; ancl yvhenIsaw him a-lingerin' about the tavern, and a-lookin' in at thewinder, he wosn't no stranger to me. Well, hegiv' me the letter, andIgiv' it to the gentleman.He had abeard as came doyvn in apoint, and wassharp with me, but not so sharp as the waiter, asIgiv'himhis ownsauce, and thegentlemanlaughed,and seemed as if he didn't object to me holdin' ofmy own;but Mr. Dallas, yvhich Ididn't know hisnamethen,he didn't laugh, and he asks the gentlemanifthereweren't no answer, and the gentlemansaysno, there yveren'tnone, and somehowIseemedto knoyv as he wanted to spite Mr. Routh. SoIfeltcur'ous aboutit,partickler whenIsee asMr. Routhlooked savage yvhen Icame out of the coffee-room
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.265and told him there weren't no answer. You mustunderstand," saidJim, yvho had regainedhis composurenoyv,andyvasin thefull tide ofhis discourse,which he addressed exclusively to Mr. Lowther,with the instinctive delicacy wliich Harriet Routhhad once observedin the neglected boy, " asIwasnot to say he was there,Iweremerely to give thenote.He giv' me sixpence, and he yvent awaydoyvn the Strand. Igot ahorse-holdin' job justthen, and it werealong 'un; and there1wasyvhenthe two gents came to the door, a-smokin' theircigars, and then the gent asIheld his horse tookhim from me, andIhadn't nothing better to dothan follow them, whichIdid; for yvho shouldIsee but Mr.Routh a-skulkin' along the other sideof the Strand, asifhe wanted to keep 'emin sightwithout their seein' of him. Ifollered them, sir,and follered them feelin' as ifIwas one of them'ere yvild Ingins in the 'Alfpenny ,Alf-hours on atrail,untilIfollered them toBoyle's billiard-rooms,asIknoyvs it well, and had swep it often on aSunday mornin'. <strong>The</strong>y went in, andIwas tiredofhanging about, and was goin' away, whenIseeMr. Routh again: there w-eren't nobody in the
266 BLACK SHEEP.street but him and me. Iskulked into a lane,ancl watchedhim.Idon'tknow whyIwatchedhim,andIdon't know how long we wasthere — Ialittleway down the lane, and he a-saunterin' up anddown,and lookin' at the doors and the windows,butnever goin' nigh the house. It must ha' been verylate when the two gents came out, andIwas verytired;but the old woman — that's my aunt, sir —and me had had a row in the mornin', andIthought I'd like to giv' her a fright, and stay outall night, whichIhaven't often slep' in the streets,considerin'."Jim had ceased to wriggle about on his chair,to twist his cap between his hands, and to shufflehis feet upon the floor.He wasnearly as motionlessas the listeners,who heard him in breathlesssilence. By degrees Clare had drawn nearer toMr. Felton, and she was now standing, her handin his,her head in its former place upon his shoulder,behind Jim's chair. But the character of thegroup formed by the tyvo was no longer what ithad been; the girl w-as supporting the man now;the girl was silently nerving him to courage andresolution.
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.267" <strong>The</strong>y came out, sir," the boy continued," very friendly-like and good-humoured, andMr.Dallas he were a-laughin', and he shook handswith the other gent, which he called hisself Mr.Deane — it were on the note; and he went awaywhistlin' dow-n the very lane asIwas in, passedme close, and never saw me. Isaw him, though,quite plain, andIthought, ' You've been yvinnin',and you likes it;' but stillIhad my eyre on Mr.Routh, and presentlyIsees him speakin' to theother gent, as was puttin' on his big fur coat,yvhichit had a 'oodto it asInever see onelike itafore.Ithought they wouldn't be pleasant together,and they wasn't, not to judge by theirvoices, andIheerd the other gent give a sneerin'kind cf a laugh, yvhich were aggravatin';andsoon theyr walked away together, through the Barandup Fleet-street, andIfollered 'em, forIthoughtI'dsleep under the dryarch of the bridge,and get a chance ofoddjobs at the early trains inthe mornin', which they're profitable ifyou ain'ttoo tired. <strong>The</strong>y was talkin' and talkin', and theoddest thing was thatIknew they- was quarrellin',thoughIcouldn't hear a word they said, andI
268 BLACK SHEEP.knew the other gent was a-sneerin' ancl a-aggeravatin'of Mr.Routh, and yet they yvas arm-in-armall the time like brothers. <strong>The</strong>y went on,and therewasn't alivin' bein' in the street but them and meand an odd p'liceman or so, yvot took no notice,onlybeat their 'ands together and passed by. Allon a sudden, when they wos near the bridge, andclose to all the little narrow streets down there,Igets tired,and don't seem to care about follerin'of 'em; and then, while I'm thinkin' of makin'forgone."the dry arch,Imisses of 'em, and they're<strong>The</strong> boy stood up nowr, and his cap fell unheededon the floor. Tlie embarrassment, theconfusion, the vulgarity ofhis manner weregone;he met the lawyer's piercing gaze unabashed;helifted his hand and movedit yvith an expressivegesture." It was gettin' light overhead, andIwastired, and my head begin to turn.Isat downin a doorway-; there wasn't no one to moy-e meon, andImust ha' fell asleep, forIdon't rememberany more untilIheard something passby me very quick, — quite near me, as near as Mr.
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.269Dallas passed me in the lane. Ilooked up prettysmart, and, sir,it were a man.""Mr. Routh?" asked the lawyer." Yes, sir, it were Mr. Routh. His headwere down, and he was goin' as quick as anyman could walk, short of running, but he didnot run.Iroused up, and wondered where theother gent was, and thenIsee a narrow passagea little way off the doorway whereIwas asettin', leadin' straight to the river. Ithoughtthey must ha' turned down there to have theirtalk out, whenImissed them so sudden.Iwentdown the passage, and at the end of it wasstones and mud and the river; and there wasno one there. But 0, sir," — and here Jimbegan to tremble and to look nervously roundtowards Mr. Felton, — " there wrere blood on theedge ofthe stones, and footsteps in the mudwhere the water yvas a-creepin' up, andyvas no one there."thereA convulsive sob burst from Clare's lips; butMr. Felton clasped her closer to him, and kepther quiet."A dreadful sight — a dreadful discovery,"
270 BLACK SHEEP.said Mr. Lowther; "but, my boy," and againhe touched Jim gently on tlie arm, f why didyou conceal it?crime that had been committed?Did you not understand theDid you notknow all that happened afterwards ?"" Sir," said Jim, boldly, but not without aneffort,"Iwas not sure;Ithought it mighthave been a fight, and that ain't murder anyways.Ididn'tknow as how ithad been stabbin'untilIsee it in Lloyd's Weekly, forIkep' ayvayonpurpose."Here Jim put his hand into his pocket, ancldrew it out again closed round some objectwhicli he had still a fingering reluctance toshow." I'll tell you all the truth, sir, thoughIdaresayImust get into trouble.IwasIfit hadn't been asafraid of getting into it,Ishould ha'spoke before whenIsee Mrs. Routh, as is agood lady, a-frettin' herself to death, and hima-deceivin' of her.WhenIwas a-looking closeat the stones and the mud, and the blood upon'em, wdiich the tide was very nigh upon it aforeIcame away,Isee something nearly stamped
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.271into the mud as looked like gold, andIfished itout, andIknew it were something asIhadseen hangin' on the other gent's chain, which hewas a-twiddlin' on it with hisgiv' him the note in the coffee-room.fingers whenIIfishedit out, sir, andIkep' it, andIwas afraid totake it to the pawnshop whenIheerd as thebody was found; andas it were a murder,Iwas afraid to sell it neither, andIhid it inthe wall, and — and," said Jim, speaking withgreat rapidity and earnestness, " Iam glad I'vetold the truth, for Mr. Dallas's sake, and I'mready to suffer for it,ifImust.Here it is, sir."<strong>The</strong>n the boy unclosed his hand, and placed inthat of Mr. Lowther a locket in the form of agolden egg." It opens in the middle," said Jim," andthere's pictures in it: one is Mr. Deane's, andthe other is a lady's. Iknow where she lives,andIsaw Mr. Routh with her on Monday night.Mr. Routh has another, just the same as this, —on the outside anyways."" Do yrou recognise this trinket?" asked Mr.Lowther ofMr.Felton, yvho replied:
272 BLACK SHEEP." Ido. It was my son's."A few minutes of close and anxious consultationbetween the gentlemen followed, and thenMr. Lowther, telling Jim that he must remainwith Mr. Felton until his return, went out,andwas driven away in Mrs. Stanhope's carriage.Mr. Felton and the tyvo womentreated the boywith kind consideration.In the frightful positionin which they were all placed, there wasnow a prospect of relief, not, indeed, from thetremendous calamity, but from the dreadful danger,ancl Jim, as the medium through whichthe hope shone, yvas very valuable to them.Food was given him, of a quality rare to thestreet-boy, and he ate it with sufficient appetite.Thus the time passed, until Mr. Lowther returned,accompanied by a small smart man ina gray suit, yvho was no other than Mr. Tatlow,and whose first words toMr. Felton were:" It's all right, sir. We've got the otherwarrant."<strong>The</strong>n Mr. Felton sent Clare and her cousinaway, and Jim, having been cheered and con-
AT THETIDAL TRAIN.273soled by many a reassuring word and promisefrom Mr. Felton, yvhose strength and self-controlproved themselves to the utmost on thisoccasion, underwent a long and searching examinationfrom Mr. Lowther and the self-congratulatoryTatlow.<strong>The</strong> afternoon was already advanced, and Mr.Tatlow had gone away and returned again,when the boy's explanation yvas concluded, andthe plans formed upon it yvere finally arranged.<strong>The</strong>n the lawyer's quick eye noticed symptomsof giving yvay in Mr. Felton.<strong>The</strong>re yvere manyhours of excitement ancl strain upon the nervesstill to be endured, and not yet might he be freeto face the grief yvhich yvas lus — pre-eminentlyhis; not yet must he seek solitude, to mournforhis only son. Anguish, fear, and fatigue weresetting their mark upon him, but he must notyethave evenbodily rest."You will not comewith us?" said Mr.Lowther." No," replied Mr. Felton, with an irrepressibleshudder.Imust."VOL. III." I could not see that man beforeT
274 BLACK SHEEP." You will lie down and rest ?"" Not yet.Iwill rest to-night. I must seemy brother-in-law, yvho will reach London thisevening, and tell him all that has happened."" Your brother-in-law ?"" Mr. Carruthers, my sister's husband. Muchdepends on George's mother being kept in ignorance,and Mr. Carruthers must be prepared."During this short dialogue, Jim had beenspeaking eagerly to Mr. Tatlow, apparentlyurging y-ery strongly an earnest appeal. On itscessation,Mr. Tatlow addressedMr.Lowther." He agrees to everything, if one of yougentlemen yvill write to Mrs. Routh for him.That's it, ain't it?" said he, turning again toJim."Yes, sir," said the boy, with an earnestnessof entreaty in his voice and his look which"touched the listeners. If one ofyou yvill write—to her.Idon't mean a letter of your owngrand like — for then she mightn't believe it, andshe might think asIwas paid.Idid it for Mr.Dallas; butIdon't think asIshould have doneit if he hadn't been bad to her, and ifIhadn't
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.275seen her a-dyin' day after day, as courageous ascan be, but still a-dyin', and he a-neglectin' ofher first and deceivin' of her after."" She is this man's accomplice," said MrLowther, moodily." Perhaps so, to a certain extent," said Mr.Felton; " but she is to be pitied, too.Isawthat.Isaw a little wayinto her life at Homburg,and, from all George has told me,Iwouldbe as little hard with her as possible. He cannotescapeus, she cannot shield him; let us hearyvhat the boy wishes to say- to her, and thendecide.Tell me," he said,kindly, to Jim, " yvhatdo you wish to say to this lady?"" You must understand," said Mr. Tatlow," that you can't send your letter till we've gothim."" Idon't want to, sir," said Jim." I think ashe's runnin' away from her to-night, partik'laras the lady is gone."(Mr. Tatlow had ascertained the fact ofMrs.Ireton P. Bembridge's departure during hisbrief absence.)" He didn't go home last night, andIthink
276 BLACK SHEEP.as he's afraid to face her, and is runnin' away tonight."" Very well, then," saidMr.Lowther, " Iwillwrite the letter.You shall tell me what to say,ancl it shall be sent to her this evening."So Jim dictated, yvith infinite difficulty andastonishing slowness, andMr. Lowther yvrote :"Lear Ma'am, — This comes from Jim Swain,as wouldn't like to hurtyou, but has to tell at last,because ofMr.Dallas being took for what he didn'tdo.Iwanted to see you to-day, but you was out,andIcouldn't, and1come down here and heard ofMr. Dallas being took. You weren't in it, dearma'am, Tm sure, and soIhave told the gentlemenand Mr. Tatlow, wliich has me in charge at present;but you know it, and that Mr. Dallas didnot do it, and Mr. Routh did.1followed themall the night it was done, andIsaw Mr.Deaneand Mr. Routh going down to the river, andIwent down to the river, when one was gone awayalive and the other cotddn't be found, only his bloodon the stones, andIfound the gold thing he hadon his chain, which the gentleman has it now, andMr. Routh have the same in a little drawer in the
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN. 277big desk in the parlour.Ihaven't hid anything,dear ma'am, and Air. Routh will be took, at sixo'clock, at the railway, wliere he told me to meet him,which soIam to do. 1know about a lady, too,which her picture is in tlie gold thing, andIwouldliave told you about lierif 1 could have seen you today.Ihopeyou won't be hurt.Ididn't mean todo it tohurt you.Iwish1hadn't been so secret solong."When Jim hacl formally made his mark, theletter yvas sealed and directed, and Mr. Lowthertook charge ofit.Considerably before the platform of the London-bridgerailway-station, from yvhich the tidaltrain for Folkstone yvas about to start, had receivedthe usual crowd of passengers and theirfriends,alady, plainly dressed and closely veiled,made her unobtrusive appearance upon it. "Iamyvaiting to see a friend off," she had said, as theofficial at the barrier questioned her, and she attractedno further notice.Slowly and with downcasteyes, and hands which clasped each otherclosely under her shawl, she w-alkedup and clown.
278 BLACK SHEEP.keeping close to the wall,and allowing thegroups,as they began to form, to form between her andthe edge of the platform. Once or twice she unclaspedher hands,and lifted her veil,andbreatheddeeply, then after onepiercingglance, which comprehendedevery face under the roof within itsvision, dropped it again. Once, as she did this, anursemaid with a child in her arms at the backof the platform noticed her,and said to a fellowservant:" That woman's face is enough to frightenone; she looks like death!"But life was strong inHarrietRouth,andhopewas strong in her also, a terrible hope, indeed,wliich to any suffering less than hers would haveworn the semblance of despair.A little whilenow ancl he would be safe, safe for the present,for the next few hours wliich were so all-important.<strong>The</strong> letter she had written,telling him allshe had done, ancl why, would await him atAmiens, and show him that all hia plans werevain, would convince him at last. <strong>The</strong> arrangementofhis money matters, wliich he must havemade for the flight he contemplated,wouldavailin
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN. 279the case of this flight which she had imposed uponhim. Alittle more torture, alittle more suspense,and somethinglike rest would come. Perhaps sheshould be able to sleep alittle to-night, while hewould be speeding through the darkness to safety.Something like a forlorn sense of peace came toher with the anticipation. So she walked up anddown, thinking these thoughts, and sometimeslapsing into a mental blank, out of which conditionshe would comewith a start,to gointo akindof vision of tlie last two days — of the woman shehad so completely mastered — of the last time shehad seen her husband's face — of the blow he hadstruck her; but she felt no anger in the remembrance;whatdid it matter now, in the face ofthis great crisis?It was strange that she hadheard nothing of George, and the fact renderedher only the more eager and apprehensive. Hewas — busy with the investigation, w-hich must endin what ? In that which she had now effectuallyprevented. So she yvalkedup and down, thinking,and the platform became peopled, and all the fussand hurry of the departure of the tidal train wasaround her.Presently, as she reached the end of
280 BLACK SHEEP.the platform, and turned, to resumeher walk, shesaw her husband, coming quickly- towards the lineof carriages, carrying the small bag which hadbeen sent to him at Tokenhouse-yardin the morning,and which she had packed with reference tothis occasion. Routh, indeed,had been not alittlesurprised by its contents. He came along theplatform, thebagin onehand,aletter in the other,lookingfrowningly round, as though in search ofsomebody. She shrank back, as much out of sightas possible. Presently, just as he was steppingintoa carriage, Jim Swain appeared, and went up tohim.A few words passed between them, andthen Harriet saw two persons, one of whom was asmart, slightly built man in a gray suit, addresshim. Straining her eyes with afixed intensity ofgaze which made her brain ache, she looked.Hetore the letter in his hand to pieces, with inconceivablequickness, the fragments fluttering to theground, turned, and yvith one of his unknown interlocutorson either side, andJim following — howstrange the boy looked, Harriet thought — walkedalong the platform, passed through the barrier,and waslost to her gaze at the distant entrance.
AT THE TIDAL TRAIN.281Harriet stood rooted to the spot. It was notuntil all the passengershad taken their places, andthe train had gone off with a shriek andapant,that she had the power to move. <strong>The</strong>n a moan ofutter despair burst from her white lips,and a coldthrill shook her limbs, as she murmured:" He has been called back on business,and heis lost,utterly lost."
CHAPTER XII."STRONG AS DEATH."Unspeakable terror laid its paralysing graspupon Harriet; upon her heart, which ceased, itseemed to her, to beat;upon her limbs, yvhich refusedto obey the impulse of her yvill. Alone shestood upon the platform, long after the train haddisappeared, and thought failed her with the powerof movement; a blank fell upon her. A porteraddressed her, but she stared stupidly- in his face,and made no reply." <strong>The</strong> lady's ill," the man said to another; " Ihad better take her to the waiting-room, and fetcha cab. If you'll come this way, ma'am — "<strong>The</strong>n Harriet's faculties awoke with a start." No, thank you," she said; " Imust get home."And she walked swiftly and steadily awayr.Twoof the superior officials were talking together close
STRONG AS DEATH.283to the door through which she had to pass, andshe heard one of them say:" Very quietly done, if it was so; and I'mpretty sure it was;Icouldn't be mistaken inTatlow."<strong>The</strong> words conveyed no meaning, no alarm toHarriet. She went on, and out into the crowdedstreet. She walked along way before she felt thatshe could bear the restraint, "the sitting still impliedby driving in any vehicle. But when shereached Tokenhouse-yard, and found that nothingyvas known there of Routh, that no message hadbeen received from him since he had left thatevening, she got into a cab and went home.Nonews there, no message,no letter. Nothing forher to do but wait, to wait as patiently as shecould, while the servantsspeculated upon thequeerstate of affairs, commented upon " master's" absenceon the preceding night, and hoped he hadnot " bolted" — a proceeding w-hich they understoodwas not uncommonin the case of gentlemenof Routh's anomalous and dim profession. Nothingfor her to do but to wait,nothingbut the hardestofall tasks, the most agonising of all sufferings. And
284 BLACK SHEEP.this was the night yvhich was to have brought her,with utter despair for herself,rest.Rest of body,yvhich she hacl never so sorely needed, and hadnever felt so impossible of attainment.Her ironstrength and endurance yvere gone now. Heryy-hole frame ached, her nerves thrilled like thestrings of a musical instrument, a terrible interiordistraction and hurry came over her at intervals,and seemed to sweep away her consciousness ofreality- without deadening her sense of suffering.She did not now wonder whether she was goingmad; since she had known the very, very worstof her own fate, that fear had entirely left her.She wondered nowyvhether she yvas dying. Wondered,with some curiosity, but no fear ; wondered,with a vague feeling of the strangeness ofthe irruption of utter nothingness into such achaos of suffering ancl dread as life had become toher.<strong>The</strong>re would be rest, but not the consciousnessofit; she would no more exist. Alittle whileago she would have shrunk from that, becauselove remained to her;but now — If she could butknow the worst, know the truth, knowthat hecouldnot be saved, or that he was safe, she would
STRONG AS DEATH.285not care how soon she ceased to be one of the factsof the universe. Site had never mattered much;she did not much matter now. But these thoughtscrossed her mind vaguely and rarely; for themost part it yvas abandoned to the tumultuousagony of her ignorance and suspense. Still noletter, no message. <strong>The</strong> time yvore on, andit wasnine o'clock yvhen Harriet heard a ring at thedoor, and aman's voice asking to seeMrs. Routh.It yvas not a voice she knew; and evenwhile sheeagerly hoped the man might have come to herfrom Routh, she trembled at the thought that hemMit be the bearer of a communication fromCTGeorge Dallas, for yvhose silence she had beenthankful, butunable to account.<strong>The</strong> man was a clerk from Mr. Lowther'soffice, and his " errand was to deliver to Mrs.Routh a letter, on very important business," hesaid, yvhich he had directions to give into her ownhands. He executed his commission, retiredpromptly-, ancl Harriet was left alone to find thesolution of all her doubts, the termination of allher suspense,in Jim Swain's letter.
286 BLACK SHEEP.Tlie approaches to the Mansion House policecourt,and the precincts of the court itself, weredensely crowded. All sorts of rumours prevailedrespecting the reported discovery of the mysteryyvhich had perplexed the police and the public inthe spring.<strong>The</strong> arrest of two persons at differentplaces, and the reports, garbled, exaggerated, anddistorted as they yvere, of the circumstances whichhad led to the discovery which directed suspiciontowards the second of the two accused persons,had keenlyexcited the public curiosity. Tlie proceedingsof the coroner's inquest upon the body ofthe unknown man had been raked up ancl readwith avidity^; anclthe oozing out of even thesmallest particulars relative to the two prisonerswas eagerly watched for by the greedy crowd.Curiosity ancl expectation were obliged to satisfythemselves for the nonce with the proceedings inthe case of Stewart Routh. George Dallas wasunable to appear; since the previous day his illnesshad materially increased, and the officialmedical report pronounced it to be brain fever.Unconscious of the tremendous danger in whichhe stood, oblivious even of the frightful discovery
STRONG AS DEATH.287which had struck him so heavy a blow, GeorgeDallas lay, under suspicion of a dreadful crime,inprison-ward, and under prison watch and care.So attention and curiosity centred themselves inSteyvart Routh, and the yvildest stories were propagated,the yvildest conjectures ranriot.<strong>The</strong> prisoner had been brought up, with thecustomary formalities, at an early hour, and theexamination, which yvas likely to last some time,had begun, when Mr. Felton, yvho was in thecourt with Mr. Carruthers, pressed that gentleman'sarm, and whispered:" Look there! To the left, just under theyvindow. Do you see her ?""Iseeawoman— yes," repliedMr. Carruthers." His wife!" said Mr. Felton, in a tone ofcompassionate amazement. It was his yvife.Thus Routh and Harriet found themselves faceto face again. As the prisoner's eye, shiftingrestlessly around him, seeing curious faces, fullof avidity, but not one -ray of compassion,fellupon her, every trace of colour faded out of hischeek, and he drew one deep, gasping breath.Had she betray-ed him ? He should soon knoyv ;
288 BLACK SHEEP.the story about to be told yvould soon enlightenhim. Did he really think she had done so? Didhe really believe it for one minute ? No. Hehad tried, in the blind fury of his rage, yvhen hefound himself trapped, balked, hopelessly in thepower of the law, and the game utterly up —when, in the loneliness of the night, he hadbrooded savagely over the hopes he had entertained,over the dazzling pictures his fancy hadpainted, then he had tried to accuse her, he hadhated and execrated her, ancl tried to accuse her.But in vain; he was not a fool, villain as he yvas,andhis common sense forbade the success of theattempt. Aid now, when he saw her, her fromwhom he had last parted with a cruel blow, and ayvordthat was more cruel,it was as though all hispast life looked out at him through her wofulblue eyes. Ayvfully it looked at him, and heldhim fascinated, even to a brief oblivion of thescene around him. She had raised her veil,notquite off her face, but so that he could see herdistinctly, and when he looked at her, her lipsparted, in a vain heroic attempt to smile. Butthey only quivered and closed again, and she
STRONG AS DEATH. 289Knew it, and drew the veil closely round her face,ancl sat thenceforth, her head falling forward uponher breast,her figure quite motionless.<strong>The</strong> ordinary business of the place and theoccasion went on, intensified in interest to thespectators by the presence of the murdered man'sfather, in the sensational character of a witness.Harriet's relation to the prisoner was not divinedby the public, and so she passedunnoticed.Jim Swain was, of course, the chief witness,and he told his story with clearness ancl directness,though he was evidently and deeply affectedby the sight of Harriet, yvhom his quick eyeinstantly recognised. She took no notice; shedid not change her position, or raise her veil asthe examination of the boy proceeded, as minuteby minute she heard and felt the last chance, thelast faint hope of escape, slip away, and theterrible certainty of doom become clearer andmore imminent. She heard and saw the boywhose story contained the destruction of hope ancllife, showed her the utter futility- of all the plansthey had concocted, of all the precautions theyhad taken;showed her that while they had fenceduVOL. III.
290 BLACK SHEEP.themselves from the danger without, the unsuspectedruin yvas close beside them, always near,whollyunmoved.It had come, ithad happened;all was over, it did not matter how.no room for<strong>The</strong>re wasanger, no power of surprise orcuriosity left in her mind. As the goldenlocketwas produced, and the identity of the portraitwith that of the murdered man was sworn to, akind of vision came to her. She saw the brightspring morning oncemore, and the lonely bridge;she saw the river with the early sunlight upon it;she saw 'herself leaning over the parapet andlooking into the water, as the parcel she hadcarried thither with careful haste sank into thodepth and washidden. She saw herselfreturninghomeward, the dangerous link in the evidencedestroyed, passing by the archway, yvhere a boylay, whom she had pitied, even then, in her owngreat ancl terrible anguish. Ifanything could bestrange now, it yvould be strange to rememberyvhat he then had in his possession, to render allher precaution vain. But she couldnot feel it so,or think about it; all things yvere alike to herhenceforth, there yvas no strangeness or fami-
STRONG AS DEATH.291harity in them for evermore. Occasionally, fora minute, the place she was in seemed to growunreal to her, and to fade; the next, she took upthe full sense of the yvords which yvere beingspoken, and every face in the crowd, every detailof the building, every accident of the scene,seemed to strike uponher brain through her eyes.She never looked at Jim, but she saw him distinctly-;she saw also the look with yvhich Routhregarded him.Tliat look was murderous.As the boy's storymade Iris motiv-es evident, as it exposed the fallaciousnature of the security on which Routhhadbuilt, asit made him see how true had been Harriet'sprevision, how yvise her counsel — though hehated her all the more bitterly as the knowledgegrew more and more irresistible — the murderousimpulse rose to fury within him. Standing thereaprisoner, helpless, and certain of condemnation,for he never had a doubt of that, the chain hehad helped to forge by his counsel to Dallas yvastoo strong to be broken; he yvould have takentwo more lives if he hacl had the power and thechance — the boy's, and that accursed woman's.
292 BLACK SHEEP.Not Iris wife's,not Harriet's ;he knew now,he sawnow, she had not brought him to this. But theother, the other yvho had tempted him and luredhim; who had defeated him, ruined him, and escaped.Heknew her shallow character andher coldheart, and his fierce, vindictive,passionate, sensualnature was stirred by horrid pangs of fury andpowerless hate as he thought of her — of the triumphantbeauty w-hich he had so coveted, of theyvealth he had so nearly clutched — triumphant,ancl happy-, and powerful still, while he — he — !Already the bitterness and blackness of death wereuponhim.And the boy! So powerful, even now, wasthe egotism of the man's nature, that he wincedunder the pain of the defeat the boy had inflictedupon him — winced under the defeat yvhile hetrembled at the destruction. He had kept himnear him, under his hand, that if the need shouldarise he might use him as an instrument for theruin of George Dallas, and so hacl provided forhis oyvn ruin. <strong>The</strong> active hate and persistentplan of another could not have worked moresurely against him than he had himself wrought,
STRONG AS DEATH. 293and the sense of the boy's instrumentality becameunbearably degrading to him, wounding himwhere he was most vulnerable.Thus all black and evil passions raged in hisheart; and as his yvife looked in his face, sheread them there as in a printed book, and onceagain the feeling oflast night came over her, ofthe strangeness of a sudden cessation to all this,and also somethingolike a drearv satisfaction inthe knoyvledge that it was yvithin her power andhis to bidit all cease — to have done yvithit.Looking at him, and thinking this, if thestrange dream of her mind may be called thought,the curiosity of the crowd began to anger her alittle. What yvas the dead man to them, thenameless stranger, that they should care for thediscovery — that they should come here to see theagony of another man, destined, like the first, todie ?<strong>The</strong> popular instinct filled her with loathing,but only momentarily; she forgot to think of itthe next minute, and the vagueness came again,the film and the dimness, and again the acutedistinctness of sound,the intensity of vision.It yvas over at length. <strong>The</strong> prisoner was com-_
294 BLACK SHEEP.mitted for trial. As he was removed with thecelerity usu.d on such occasions,Harriet made aslight signto the solicitor actingfor Routh — a signevidently preconcerted, for he approached themagistrate, ancl addressed him in a low- voice. <strong>The</strong>reply was favourable to his request, ancl he, in histurn, signed to Harriet, who left her place anclcame to where he yvas standing.He placed her inthe box,and she stood there firmly, having boyvedto the magistrate, yvho addressed her:" You are the prisoner's wife?"" Iam." " You wish to speak to me?"" I yvish to ask your permission to seemy husbandbefore he is removed."" You may do so. Take careof the lady."This to one of the officials. <strong>The</strong> tone of themagistrate's reply to Harriet yvascompassionate,though he spoke briefly;and he looked intently- ather as she boyved again and turned meekly away.He has said,since then, that he never saSv supremedespair in anyface before." You have not much time," the policemansaid, not unkindly, who conducted her to the lock-
STRONG AS DEATH.295up cell where Routh was. She made 110 answer,but went in,and the door was locked behind her.He yvassitting on abench exactly in front of thedoor, and the moment she passed it her eyes methis. Furyand gloom wereloweringupon his face;he looked up sullenly at her,but did not speak.She stood by the door,leaning against it, and said,in alow tone:" Ihave but a little time they tell me.Iamcome to learn your will. It was agreed betweenus, once, that if the worst came,Ishould supplyyou with the means of disposing of your fate. Iremembered that agreement,andIhave broughtO 7 CTyou this.She put her hand to her bosom, and took outof her dress a small phial. It contained prussicacid, and was sealedand stopperedyvith glass.He started and groaned, but did not yet speak." " <strong>The</strong> worst has come," she said. Ido noisay you ought not to face it out, stillIonly do asyou once desired me to do in such a case.decision is with yourself.<strong>The</strong>This is my only opportunityofobeyingyou,andIdo so."|" <strong>The</strong> worst has come," he said, in a hoarse
296 BLACK SHEEP.voice,not inthe least like his own; " y-ou are surethe worst has come? He saidit was abad case, avery bad case. Yes,the worsthas come."Her hand was stretched out, the phial in it.He made no attempt to take it from her.Sheheldit still,andspoke again:" Ihave verylittle time. You yvill be searchedpresently, they tell me, and this yvill be found, itmay be.Ihave obeyed you to the last, as fromthe beginning."" <strong>The</strong>re's no chance— you aro quite sure thereis no chance?"" Iam quite sure thereis no chance. Ihaveahvays known,if thishappened,there could be nochance."He muttered something under his breath." Ido"not hear you," she said. You are reproachingme,Idare say,but it is not worth yvhile.Ifyou make no use of this,you will have time toreproach me as much as youlike. Ifyou do makeuse of it, reproach is past, yvith time and life.Have you decided?""No," he said; " give it to me. IfIuse it,it must be very soon — ifnot,never."
STRONG AS DEATH.297She laid the phial on the bench beside him,and he [took it up, and placed it in his breastpocket.She did not touch him,but when she hadlaid the plrial down, stepped back, and leanedagainst the door." Is there anything you want to knoyv— anythingIcantell you?" she asked. "Again, mytime is very short."" "No," he said; ifImake up my mind togo through this,Ishall know allIwant;ifIdon't,Ineed not know anything."" Just so," she said, quietly. He looked onthe ground, she looked at him." Harriet," he said, suddenly," Iam sorry,I ""Hush,"she said,flushing scarlet for onebrief"moment, and putting out her hand. No more.All is over, and done yvith. Tlie past is dead, andIam dead yvithit. Not a word of me."" Butif— if" he touched his coat-pocket." Imust firstknow what is to become of you.""Must you?" she said, and the — faintest possiblealteration came in her voice a little,little"softening,and a slight touch of surprise. Ithink
298 BLACK SHEEP.you might have known thatIshall live until 1know you are no longer living."" Sorry to interrupt you, ma'am," said thepoliceman yvho had brought Harriet to the cell,unlocking the door with sharp suddenness — " verysorry,I'm sure;but""I am quite ready," said Harriet; and, asRouth startedup, she turned, and was outside thedoor in an instant. Two policemen were in thepassage; at the door through which she haclbeenled from the court, Routh's solicitor was standing.He took her arm in his,and brought her awaybya private entrance. <strong>The</strong>y did not speak till shewasin the street, yvhere she saw, at alittle distance,a crowd collected to watch tho exit of the prisonvan.He called a cab."Whereto?"" Myhouse."" Iwill go with you.""No,thank you. Indeed,Iwould rather goalone."" Ishall see you this evening."She bent her headinreply.When she was seated in the cab she put out
STRONG AS DEATH. 299her hand to him, and as she leaned forward hesaw her awful face." God help y-ou, Mrs. Routh," he said, yvithintense pity. <strong>The</strong>n she said, in a clear low voice,whose tone he remembers, as he remembers theface, these yvords:" <strong>The</strong>re is no God. If there were, there couldbe no such men as he,and no such yvomen asI."When she was a short distance from thcpolicecourt,and beyond the solicitor's sight, she calledto the driverfrom the window that shehad changedher purpose,and desired to be set down at St.Paul's Churchyard.<strong>The</strong> arrival of the prison-van at New-gate excitedthe usual sensation whichit produces amongthe public who congregate in the neighbourhoodof the prison, to see it discharge its wretched contents;the majority of the crowd were, as usual, ofthe dangerous classes; and it yvould have affordedmatter of speculation to the curious in such thingsto look at their faces and calculate, according tothe indices there given, hoyv many of the numberwould one day take a personalpart in a spectacle
300 BLACK SHEEP.similar to that at yvhich they yvere gazing yvith acuriosity yvhich renewed itself daily-. Onthis occasionthe sentiment prevalent on the outside ofthe grim fortress ofcrime yvas shared in an unusualdegree by the officials, and general, notcriminal, inhabitants. Not that a supposed murderer'sarrival was any novelty at Newgate, butthat the supiposed murderer in thepresent instanceyvas not of the class among which society ordinarilyrecruits its murderers, anclthe circumstancesbothof the crime and of its discovery wereexceptional. Thus, yvhen the gate unclosed bywhich the prisoners were to be admitted, the yardwas full of spectators.Four prisoners yvere committed that day: aburglar and his assistant; amerchant's clerk whohad managed a forgery so remarkably clevrcrlyrthat it needed only not to have been found out, tohavebeen a stroke ofbrilliant genius; and StewartRouth.<strong>The</strong> door was opened, the group of spectatorsgatheredaround.First the burglar, a wirylittle man, more like the tailor of real life than theconventional hero of the centre-bit andthe jemmy.Next,his assistant, an individual of jovial appear-
STRONG AS DEATH.301ance, tempered with responsibility, like a popularpresident of school feasts,or the leader ofa villagechoir. Thirdly, the forger, remarkable for nothingin his appearance except its abjectness of frightand bewilderment. <strong>The</strong>se had emerged from thedarksome recesses of the hideous caravan, the firstand no slight instalment of their punishment, andhad been received with comparative indifference.A passing glance yvas all that was accorded tothem by the spectators waiting the appearance ofthe " gentleman" yvho yvas in such very serious"trouble."But the gentleman did not follow his temporaryassociates, though the policeman in attendanceheld the door open, and called to him to"come on." <strong>The</strong>n he stepped into the van andup to the compartment in yvhich Routh had beenplaced. Afteran elapse ofa fullminutehe emerged,and addressing the lookers-on generally, he said:" <strong>The</strong>re's something queer the matter withhim, andItlrink he's dead!"A stir and confusion among the crowd, andthe governor called for. A matter-of-fact turnkeyadvances,saying, in abusiness-like tone:
302 BLACK SHEEP." Haul him out, ancl let's see."<strong>The</strong>y do haul him out, and they do see.Hisface is rather bluish in colour, ancl his eyes aroopen, but his hands are clenched, and his tongueis rigid. And he is quite dead. So there is agreat sensation around the prison. <strong>The</strong> senselessfigure is carried into the prison, the door ispromptly shut, and the rumour spreads throughthe crowd, trying to find chinks which do notexist, and to hear sounds inaudible, that the" murder" case is disposed of, the prisoner havingtried, condemned, and executed himself. And,though the incident is highly sensational, thogeneral feelingis disappointment.A woman, plainly dressed ancl closely veiled,who has been lingering about the street for sometime, and was there when the van arrived, hasseen the figure lifted from the van and has heardthe rumour. But she waits a little while longer,until a policeman comes out of a side-entrance,and while some eager inquirers, chiefly women,question him, and he tells them it is quite time,the man committed for trial for the river-sidomurder is really dead, she stands by ancl listens.
STRONG AS DEATH.303<strong>The</strong>n she draws her shawl closely- round her, andshivers, and goes away. After she has taken afew steps, she falters ancl sway-s a little,but sheleans against the wall,her hands pressedupon herbreast, but quietly-, attracting no attention, untilshe has regained her composure and her breath,and then goes on, along the street, and sointoHolborn.out" She has not been seen or heard of, at hischambers or at home," said Mr. Carruthers to Mr."Felton late that evening.O NothingCT is known ofher. <strong>The</strong>y say she has no friends;Icould notfind out from the servants that she has a singleacquaintance evento yvhose house she could havegone."Mr. Felton yvas infinitely distressed by thisneyvs yvhichMr. Carruthers, whose active bene\jlence,guided by the judgment of others, knew nobounds, brought to his brother-in-law, yvho yvas atlength exhausted,and unable to rise. <strong>The</strong>y hadheard earlyin the afternoon of the death of Routh,and had at oncebeen aroused to the warmest compassionfor Harriet. Clare, having left the un-
304 BLACK SHEEP.conscious Mrs. Carruthers tranquilly asleep, hadgone to Mr. Felton's lodgings, and yvasthereyvhen her uncle camein yvith his report." Laura has no suspicion ?" asked Mr.Felton." Not the slightest. She has no notion thatyou and George are not still in Paris.Imustsay Clare is an admirable girl to keep a secret andplay apart."Clare blushed alittle at her uncle's praise." What is to be done now about this unfortunatewoman? She must be found. Apart fromevery other consideration,George would be infinitelydistressed if any harm came to her."" Ireally don't know," said Mr. Carruthers." <strong>The</strong>re seemsto be no clue to her probable movements,and Come in." This was in answerto a knock at the door.Jim Swain came in,his face full of eagerness:" Have you found her, sir? Is she at home ?Does she know ?""No, Jim," said Mr. Felton, "she's not athome, and no oneknows anything of her."" Sir," exclaimed Jim— " miss, I'm sure she'ssomewheres about the prison. Has any one
STRONG AS DEATH. 305thought of lookin' for her there ?sir and miss — she'd go there.and let us go and look for her.alone; she wouldn't listen to me,She'd go there,Take me with you,Idaren't goshe wouldn'tlook at me; butI'm sure she's there."" Uncle," said Clare, earnestly, " Iam surehe is right — Ifeel sure he is right.take oneof the servants and him.yvaiting for me; take itand go."Mr. Carruthers did as she desired.Pray go;<strong>The</strong> carriage isIt waswonderful to see the change that had come overhim with the awakeningofhis better nature.Hehad always been energetic, and nowhe forgot tobe pompous and self-engrossed.<strong>The</strong> streetsin the dismal quarter of the prisonwere comparatively silent and empty when Mr.Carruthers called to the coachman to stop, andgot out of the carriage, Jim descending from thebox,and they began their dismal search. It wasnotprolonged or difficult.<strong>The</strong>y found her sitting on the ground, supportedby the prison wall,in an angle where afternightfall there waslittle resort offootsteps and butdim light — a corner in which the tired wayfarerVOL. in.X
306 BLACK SHEEP.might rest, unquestioned, for a little, by eitherthe policeman or the passer-by.And no moretired wayfarer had ever sat down to rest, evenin the pitiless London streets,than the womanwhohad wandered about until the friendly night hadfallen, and had then come there to die, and havedone withit.<strong>The</strong>y took her to her own home, and whenthey removed her shawl a slip of paper, on whichGeorge Dallas's name was written, was foundpinned to the front of her dress. It containedthese words:" <strong>The</strong> boy's story is true.Idid not keep thediamonds taken out of the studs.when you sold your mother's.youever knew us.You sold themIwas always sorryH.Routh."George Dallas isin New York withMr.Felton,who is winding-up all his affairs, with a view toa permanent residence in England. Jim Swain,whose education includes the art of writingnow,isattached to the personal service ofMr. Dallas, whois understood to be his uncle's heir.
STRONG AS DEATH.307Miss Carruthers is at Poynings, not to betempted by London and its pleasures;but theabsence of the young and beautiful heiress is notso deeply deplored by " society" as it would be,wereit not generally known that she is engaged.THE END.LONDON:KOBSON AND SON, GREAT NORTHERNPRINTING WORKS,PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.
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