you,
Miss
Morley
,
"
he
said
,
"
that
till
you
spoke
to
me
to-night
,
I
never
felt
one
shadow
of
fear
,
and
now
I
have
that
sick
,
sinking
dread
at
my
heart
which
you
talked
of
an
hour
ago
.
Let
me
alone
,
please
,
to
get
over
it
my
own
way
.
"
She
drew
silently
away
from
him
,
and
seated
herself
by
the
side
of
the
vessel
,
looking
over
into
the
water
.
George
Talboys
walked
backward
and
forward
for
some
time
,
with
his
head
bent
upon
his
breast
,
looking
neither
to
the
right
nor
the
left
,
but
in
about
a
quarter
of
an
hour
he
returned
to
the
spot
where
the
governess
was
seated
.
"
I
have
been
praying
,
"
he
said
—
"
praying
for
my
darling
.
"
He
spoke
in
a
voice
little
above
a
whisper
,
and
she
saw
his
face
ineffably
calm
in
the
moonlight
.
CHAPTER
III
.
HIDDEN
RELICS
.
The
same
August
sun
which
had
gone
down
behind
the
waste
of
waters
glimmered
redly
upon
the
broad
face
of
the
old
clock
over
that
ivy-covered
archway
which
leads
into
the
gardens
of
Audley
Court
.
A
fierce
and
crimson
sunset
.
The
mullioned
windows
and
twinkling
lattices
are
all
ablaze
with
the
red
glory
;
the
fading
light
flickers
upon
the
leaves
of
the
limes
in
the
long
avenue
,
and
changes
the
still
fish-pond
into
a
sheet
of
burnished
copper
;
even
into
those
dim
recesses
of
brier
and
brushwood
,
amidst
which
the
old
well
is
hidden
,
the
crimson
brightness
penetrates
in
fitful
flashes
till
the
dank
weeds
and
the
rusty
iron
wheel
and
broken
woodwork
seem
as
if
they
were
flecked
with
blood
.
The
lowing
of
a
cow
in
the
quiet
meadows
,
the
splash
of
a
trout
in
the
fish-pond
,
the
last
notes
of
a
tired
bird
,
the
creaking
of
wagon-wheels
upon
the
distant
road
,
every
now
and
then
breaking
the
evening
silence
,
only
made
the
stillness
of
the
place
seem
more
intense
.
It
was
almost
oppressive
,
this
twilight
stillness
.
The
very
repose
of
the
place
grew
painful
from
its
intensity
,
and
you
felt
as
if
a
corpse
must
be
lying
somewhere
within
that
gray
and
ivy-covered
pile
of
building
—
so
deathlike
was
the
tranquillity
of
all
around
.
As
the
clock
over
the
archway
struck
eight
,
a
door
at
the
back
of
the
house
was
softly
opened
,
and
a
girl
came
out
into
the
gardens
.
But
even
the
presence
of
a
human
being
scarcely
broke
the
silence
;
for
the
girl
crept
slowly
over
the
thick
grass
,
and
gliding
into
the
avenue
by
the
side
of
the
fish-pond
,
disappeared
in
the
rich
shelter
of
the
limes
.
She
was
not
,
perhaps
,
positively
a
pretty
girl
;
but
her
appearance
was
of
that
order
which
is
commonly
called
interesting
.
Interesting
,
it
may
be
,
because
in
the
pale
face
and
the
light
gray
eyes
,
the
small
features
and
compressed
lips
,
there
was
something
which
hinted
at
a
power
of
repression
and
self-control
not
common
in
a
woman
of
nineteen
or
twenty
.
She
might
have
been
pretty
,
I
think
,
but
for
the
one
fault
in
her
small
oval
face
.
This
fault
was
an
absence
of
color
.
Not
one
tinge
of
crimson
flushed
the
waxen
whiteness
of
her
cheeks
;
not
one
shadow
of
brown
redeemed
the
pale
insipidity
of
her
eyebrows
and
eyelashes
;
not
one
glimmer
of
gold
or
auburn
relieved
the
dull
flaxen
of
her
hair
.
Even
her
dress
was
spoiled
by
this
same
deficiency
.
The
pale
lavender
muslin
faded
into
a
sickly
gray
,
and
the
ribbon
knotted
round
her
throat
melted
into
the
same
neutral
hue
.
Her
figure
was
slim
and
fragile
,
and
in
spite
of
her
humble
dress
,
she
had
something
of
the
grace
and
carriage
of
a
gentlewoman
,
but
she
was
only
a
simple
country
girl
,
called
Phoebe
Marks
,
who
had
been
nursemaid
in
Mr.
Dawson
's
family
,
and
whom
Lady
Audley
had
chosen
for
her
maid
after
her
marriage
with
Sir
Michael
.
Of
course
,
this
was
a
wonderful
piece
of
good
fortune
for
Phoebe
,
who
found
her
wages
trebled
and
her
work
lightened
in
the
well-ordered
household
at
the
Court
;
and
who
was
therefore
quite
as
much
the
object
of
envy
among
her
particular
friends
as
my
lady
herself
to
higher
circles
.
A
man
,
who
was
sitting
on
the
broken
wood-work
of
the
well
,
started
as
the
lady's-maid
came
out
of
the
dim
shade
of
the
limes
and
stood
before
him
among
the
weeds
and
brushwood
.
I
have
said
before
that
this
was
a
neglected
spot
;
it
lay
in
the
midst
of
a
low
shrubbery
,
hidden
away
from
the
rest
of
the
gardens
,
and
only
visible
from
the
garret
windows
at
the
back
of
the
west
wing
.
"
Why
,
Phoebe
,
"
said
the
man
,
shutting
a
clasp-knife
with
which
he
had
been
stripping
the
bark
from
a
blackthorn
stake
,
"
you
came
upon
me
so
still
and
sudden
,
that
I
thought
you
was
an
evil
spirit
.
I
've
come
across
through
the
fields
,
and
come
in
here
at
the
gate
agen
the
moat
,
and
I
was
taking
a
rest
before
I
came
up
to
the
house
to
ask
if
you
was
come
back
.
"
"
I
can
see
the
well
from
my
bedroom
window
,
Luke
,
"
Phoebe
answered
,
pointing
to
an
open
lattice
in
one
of
the
gables
.
"
I
saw
you
sitting
here
,
and
came
down
to
have
a
chat
;
it
's
better
talking
out
here
than
in
the
house
,
where
there
's
always
somebody
listening
.
"
The
man
was
a
big
,
broad-shouldered
,
stupid-looking
clod-hopper
of
about
twenty-three
years
of
age
.
His
dark
red
hair
grew
low
upon
his
forehead
,
and
his
bushy
brows
met
over
a
pair
of
greenish
gray
eyes
;
his
nose
was
large
and
well-shaped
,
but
the
mouth
was
coarse
in
form
and
animal
in
expression
.
Rosy-cheeked
,
red-haired
,
and
bull-necked
,
he
was
not
unlike
one
of
the
stout
oxen
grazing
in
the
meadows
round
about
the
Court
.
The
girl
seated
herself
lightly
upon
the
wood-work
at
his
side
,
and
put
one
of
her
hands
,
which
had
grown
white
in
her
new
and
easy
service
,
about
his
thick
neck
.
"
Are
you
glad
to
see
me
,
Luke
?
"
she
asked
.
"
Of
course
I
'm
glad
,
lass
,
"
he
answered
,
boorishly
,
opening
his
knife
again
,
and
scraping
away
at
the
hedge-stake
.
They
were
first
cousins
,
and
had
been
play
fellows
in
childhood
,
and
sweethearts
in
early
youth
.
"
You
do
n't
seem
much
as
if
you
were
glad
,
"
said
the
girl
;
"
you
might
look
at
me
,
Luke
,
and
tell
me
if
you
think
my
journey
has
improved
me
.
"
"
It
ai
n't
put
any
color
into
your
cheeks
,
my
girl
,
"
he
said
,
glancing
up
at
her
from
under
his
lowering
eyebrows
;
"
you
're
every
bit
as
white
as
you
was
when
you
went
away
.
"
"
But
they
say
traveling
makes
people
genteel
,
Luke
.
I
've
been
on
the
Continent
with
my
lady
,
through
all
manner
of
curious
places
;
and
you
know
,
when
I
was
a
child
,
Squire
Horton
's
daughters
taught
me
to
speak
a
little
French
,
and
I
found
it
so
nice
to
be
able
to
talk
to
the
people
abroad
.
"
"
Genteel
!
"
cried
Luke
Marks
,
with
a
hoarse
laugh
;
"
who
wants
you
to
be
genteel
,
I
wonder
?
Not
me
,
for
one
;
when
you
're
my
wife
you
wo
n't
have
overmuch
time
for
gentility
,
my
girl
.
French
,
too
!
Dang
me
,
Phoebe
,
I
suppose
when
we
've
saved
money
enough
between
us
to
buy
a
bit
of
a
farm
,
you
'll
be
parleyvooing
to
the
cows
?
"
She
bit
her
lip
as
her
lover
spoke
,
and
looked
away
.
He
went
on
cutting
and
chopping
at
a
rude
handle
he
was
fashioning
to
the
stake
,
whistling
softly
to
himself
all
the
while
,
and
not
once
looking
at
his
cousin
.
For
some
time
they
were
silent
,
but
by-and-by
she
said
,
with
her
face
still
turned
away
from
her
companion
:
"
What
a
fine
thing
it
is
for
Miss
Graham
that
was
,
to
travel
with
her
maid
and
her
courier
,
and
her
chariot
and
four
,
and
a
husband
that
thinks
there
is
n't
one
spot
upon
all
the
earth
that
's
good
enough
for
her
to
set
her
foot
upon
!
"
"
Ay
,
it
is
a
fine
thing
,
Phoebe
,
to
have
lots
of
money
,
"
answered
Luke
,
"
and
I
hope
you
'll
be
warned
by
that
,
my
lass
,
to
save
up
your
wages
agin
we
get
married
.
"
"
Why
,
what
was
she
in
Mr.
Dawson
's
house
only
three
months
ago
?
"
continued
the
girl
,
as
if
she
had
not
heard
her
cousin
's
speech
.
"
What
was
she
but
a
servant
like
me
?
Taking
wages
and
working
for
them
as
hard
,
or
harder
,
than
I
did
.
You
should
have
seen
her
shabby
clothes
,
Luke
—
worn
and
patched
,
and
darned
and
turned
and
twisted
,
yet
always
looking
nice
upon
her
,
somehow
.
She
gives
me
more
as
lady's-maid
here
than
ever
she
got
from
Mr.
Dawson
then
.
Why
,
I
've
seen
her
come
out
of
the
parlor
with
a
few
sovereigns
and
a
little
silver
in
her
hand
,
that
master
had
just
given
her
for
her
quarter
's
salary
;
and
now
look
at
her
!
"
"
Never
you
mind
her
,
"
said
Luke
;
"
take
care
of
yourself
,
Phoebe
;
that
's
all
you
've
got
to
do
.
What
should
you
say
to
a
public-house
for
you
and
me
,
by-and-by
,
my
girl
?
There
's
a
deal
of
money
to
be
made
out
of
a
public-house
.
"
The
girl
still
sat
with
her
face
averted
from
her
lover
,
her
hands
hanging
listlessly
in
her
lap
,
and
her
pale
gray
eyes
fixed
upon
the
last
low
streak
of
crimson
dying
out
behind
the
trunks
of
the
trees
.
"
You
should
see
the
inside
of
the
house
,
Luke
,
"
she
said
;
"
it
's
a
tumbledown
looking
place
enough
outside
;
but
you
should
see
my
lady
's
rooms
—
all
pictures
and
gilding
,
and
great
looking-glasses
that
stretch
from
the
ceiling
to
the
floor
.
Painted
ceilings
,
too
,
that
cost
hundreds
of
pounds
,
the
housekeeper
told
her
,
and
all
done
for
her
.
"
"
She
's
a
lucky
one
,
"
muttered
Luke
,
with
lazy
indifference
.
"
You
should
have
seen
her
while
we
were
abroad
,
with
a
crowd
of
gentlemen
hanging
about
her
;
Sir
Michael
not
jealous
of
them
,
only
proud
to
see
her
so
much
admired
.
You
should
have
heard
her
laugh
and
talk
with
them
;
throwing
all
their
compliments
and
fine
speeches
back
at
them
,
as
it
were
,
as
if
they
had
been
pelting
her
with
roses
.
She
set
everybody
mad
about
her
,
wherever
she
went
.
Her
singing
,
her
playing
,
her
painting
,
her
dancing
,
her
beautiful
smile
,
and
sunshiny
ringlets
!
She
was
always
the
talk
of
a
place
,
as
long
as
we
stayed
in
it
.
"
"
Is
she
at
home
to-night
?
"
"
No
;
she
has
gone
out
with
Sir
Michael
to
a
dinner
party
at
the
Beeches
.
They
've
seven
or
eight
miles
to
drive
,
and
they
wo
n't
be
back
till
after
eleven
.
"
"
Then
I
'll
tell
you
what
,
Phoebe
,
if
the
inside
of
the
house
is
so
mighty
fine
,
I
should
like
to
have
a
look
at
it
.
"
"
You
shall
,
then
.
Mrs.
Barton
,
the
housekeeper
,
knows
you
by
sight
,
and
she
ca
n't
object
to
my
showing
you
some
of
the
best
rooms
.
"
It
was
almost
dark
when
the
cousins
left
the
shrubbery
and
walked
slowly
to
the
house
.
The
door
by
which
they
entered
led
into
the
servants
'
hall
,
on
one
side
of
which
was
the
housekeeper
's
room
.
Phoebe
Marks
stopped
for
a
moment
to
ask
the
housekeeper
if
she
might
take
her
cousin
through
some
of
the
rooms
,
and
having
received
permission
to
do
so
,
lighted
a
candle
at
the
lamp
in
the
hall
,
and
beckoned
to
Luke
to
follow
her
into
the
other
part
of
the
house
.
The
long
,
black
oak
corridors
were
dim
in
the
ghostly
twilight
—
the
light
carried
by
Phoebe
looking
only
a
poor
speck
in
the
broad
passages
through
which
the
girl
led
her
cousin
.
Luke
looked
suspiciously
over
his
shoulder
now
and
then
,
half-frightened
by
the
creaking
of
his
own
hob-nailed
boots
.
"
It
's
a
mortal
dull
place
,
Phoebe
,
"
he
said
,
as
they
emerged
from
a
passage
into
the
principal
hall
,
which
was
not
yet
lighted
;
"
I
've
heard
tell
of
a
murder
that
was
done
here
in
old
times
.
"
"
There
are
murders
enough
in
these
times
,
as
to
that
,
Luke
,
"
answered
the
girl
,
ascending
the
staircase
,
followed
by
the
young
man
.
She
led
the
way
through
a
great
drawing-room
,
rich
in
satin
and
ormolu
,
buhl
and
inlaid
cabinets
,
bronzes
,
cameos
,
statuettes
,
and
trinkets
,
that
glistened
in
the
dusky
light
;
then
through
a
morning
room
,
hung
with
proof
engravings
of
valuable
pictures
;
through
this
into
an
ante-chamber
,
where
she
stopped
,
holding
the
light
above
her
head
.
The
young
man
stared
about
him
,
open-mouthed
and
open-eyed
.
"
It
's
a
rare
fine
place
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
must
have
cost
a
heap
of
money
.
"
"
Look
at
the
pictures
on
the
walls
,
"
said
Phoebe
,
glancing
at
the
panels
of
the
octagonal
chamber
,
which
were
hung
with
Claudes
and
Poussins
,
Wouvermans
and
Cuyps
.
"
I
've
heard
that
those
alone
are
worth
a
fortune
.
This
is
the
entrance
to
my
lady
's
apartments
,
Miss
Graham
that
was
.
"
She
lifted
a
heavy
green
cloth
curtain
which
hung
across
a
doorway
,
and
led
the
astonished
countryman
into
a
fairy-like
boudoir
,
and
thence
to
a
dressing-room
,
in
which
the
open
doors
of
a
wardrobe
and
a
heap
of
dresses
flung
about
a
sofa
showed
that
it
still
remained
exactly
as
its
occupants
had
left
it
.
"
I
've
got
all
these
things
to
put
away
before
my
lady
comes
home
,
Luke
;
you
might
sit
down
here
while
I
do
it
,
I
sha
n't
be
long
.
"
Her
cousin
looked
around
in
gawky
embarrassment
,
bewildered
by
the
splendor
of
the
room
;
and
after
some
deliberation
selected
the
most
substantial
of
the
chairs
,
on
the
extreme
edge
of
which
he
carefully
seated
himself
.
"
I
wish
I
could
show
you
the
jewels
,
Luke
,
"
said
the
girl
;
"
but
I
ca
n't
,
for
she
always
keeps
the
keys
herself
;
that
's
the
case
on
the
dressing-table
there
.
"
"
What
,
that
?
"
cried
Luke
,
staring
at
the
massive
walnut-wood
and
brass
inlaid
casket
.
"
Why
,
that
's
big
enough
to
hold
every
bit
of
clothes
I
've
got
!
"
"
And
it
's
as
full
as
it
can
be
of
diamonds
,
rubies
,
pearls
and
emeralds
,
"
answered
Phoebe
,
busy
as
she
spoke
in
folding
the
rustling
silk
dresses
,
and
laying
them
one
by
one
upon
the
shelves
of
the
wardrobe
.
As
she
was
shaking
out
the
flounces
of
the
last
,
a
jingling
sound
caught
her
ear
,
and
she
put
her
hand
into
the
pocket
.
"
I
declare
!
"
she
exclaimed
,
"
my
lady
has
left
her
keys
in
her
pocket
for
once
in
a
way
;
I
can
show
you
the
jewelry
,
if
you
like
,
Luke
.
"
"
Well
,
I
may
as
well
have
a
look
at
it
,
my
girl
,
"
he
said
,
rising
from
his
chair
and
holding
the
light
while
his
cousin
unlocked
the
casket
.
He
uttered
a
cry
of
wonder
when
he
saw
the
ornaments
glittering
on
white
satin
cushions
.
He
wanted
to
handle
the
delicate
jewels
;
to
pull
them
about
,
and
find
out
their
mercantile
value
.
Perhaps
a
pang
of
longing
and
envy
shot
through
his
heart
as
he
thought
how
he
would
have
liked
to
have
taken
one
of
them
.
"
Why
,
one
of
those
diamond
things
would
set
us
up
in
life
,
Phoebe
,
he
said
,
turning
a
bracelet
over
and
over
in
his
big
red
hands
.
"
Put
it
down
,
Luke
!
Put
it
down
directly
!
"
cried
the
girl
,
with
a
look
of
terror
;
"
how
can
you
speak
about
such
things
?
"
He
laid
the
bracelet
in
its
place
with
a
reluctant
sigh
,
and
then
continued
his
examination
of
the
casket
.
"
What
's
this
?
"
he
asked
presently
,
pointing
to
a
brass
knob
in
the
frame-work
of
the
box
.
He
pushed
it
as
he
spoke
,
and
a
secret
drawer
,
lined
with
purple
velvet
,
flew
out
of
the
casket
.
"
Look
ye
here
!
"
cried
Luke
,
pleased
at
his
discovery
.
Phoebe
Marks
threw
down
the
dress
she
had
been
folding
,
and
went
over
to
the
toilette
table
.
"
Why
,
I
never
saw
this
before
,
"
she
said
;
"
I
wonder
what
there
is
in
it
?
"
There
was
not
much
in
it
;
neither
gold
nor
gems
;
only
a
baby
's
little
worsted
shoe
rolled
up
in
a
piece
of
paper
,
and
a
tiny
lock
of
pale
and
silky
yellow
hair
,
evidently
taken
from
a
baby
's
head
.
Phoebe
's
eyes
dilated
as
she
examined
the
little
packet
.
"
So
this
is
what
my
lady
hides
in
the
secret
drawer
,
"
she
muttered
.
"
It
's
queer
rubbish
to
keep
in
such
a
place
,
"
said
Luke
,
carelessly
.
The
girl
's
thin
lip
curved
into
a
curious
smile
.
"
You
will
bear
me
witness
where
I
found
this
,
"
she
said
,
putting
the
little
parcel
into
her
pocket
.
"
Why
,
Phoebe
,
you
're
not
going
to
be
such
a
fool
as
to
take
that
,
"
cried
the
young
man
.
"
I
'd
rather
have
this
than
the
diamond
bracelet
you
would
have
liked
to
take
,
"
she
answered
;
"
you
shall
have
the
public
house
,
Luke
.
"
CHAPTER
IV
.
IN
THE
FIRST
PAGE
OF
"
THE
TIMES
.
"
Robert
Audley
was
supposed
to
be
a
barrister
.
As
a
barrister
was
his
name
inscribed
in
the
law-list
;
as
a
barrister
he
had
chambers
in
Figtree
Court
,
Temple
;
as
a
barrister
he
had
eaten
the
allotted
number
of
dinners
,
which
form
the
sublime
ordeal
through
which
the
forensic
aspirant
wades
on
to
fame
and
fortune
.
If
these
things
can
make
a
man
a
barrister
,
Robert
Audley
decidedly
was
one
.
But
he
had
never
either
had
a
brief
,
or
tried
to
get
a
brief
,
or
even
wished
to
have
a
brief
in
all
those
five
years
,
during
which
his
name
had
been
painted
upon
one
of
the
doors
in
Figtree
Court
.
He
was
a
handsome
,
lazy
,
care-for-nothing
fellow
,
of
about
seven-and-twenty
;
the
only
son
of
a
younger
brother
of
Sir
Michael
Audley
.
His
father
had
left
him
£
400
a
year
,
which
his
friends
had
advised
him
to
increase
by
being
called
to
the
bar
;
and
as
he
found
it
,
after
due
consideration
,
more
trouble
to
oppose
the
wishes
of
these
friends
than
to
eat
so
many
dinners
,
and
to
take
a
set
of
chambers
in
the
Temple
,
he
adopted
the
latter
course
,
and
unblushingly
called
himself
a
barrister
.
Sometimes
,
when
the
weather
was
very
hot
,
and
he
had
exhausted
himself
with
the
exertion
of
smoking
his
German
pipe
,
and
reading
French
novels
,
he
would
stroll
into
the
Temple
Gardens
,
and
lying
in
some
shady
spot
,
pale
and
cool
,
with
his
shirt
collar
turned
down
and
a
blue
silk
handkerchief
tied
loosely
about
his
neck
,
would
tell
grave
benchers
that
he
had
knocked
himself
up
with
over
work
.
The
sly
old
benchers
laughed
at
the
pleasant
fiction
;
but
they
all
agreed
that
Robert
Audley
was
a
good
fellow
;
a
generous-hearted
fellow
;
rather
a
curious
fellow
,
too
,
with
a
fund
of
sly
wit
and
quiet
humor
,
under
his
listless
,
dawdling
,
indifferent
,
irresolute
manner
.
A
man
who
would
never
get
on
in
the
world
;
but
who
would
not
hurt
a
worm
.
Indeed
,
his
chambers
were
converted
into
a
perfect
dog-kennel
,
by
his
habit
of
bringing
home
stray
and
benighted
curs
,
who
were
attracted
by
his
looks
in
the
street
,
and
followed
him
with
abject
fondness
.
Robert
always
spent
the
hunting
season
at
Audley
Court
;
not
that
he
was
distinguished
as
a
Nimrod
,
for
he
would
quietly
trot
to
covert
upon
a
mild-tempered
,
stout-limbed
bay
hack
,
and
keep
at
a
very
respectful
distance
from
the
hard
riders
;
his
horse
knowing
quite
as
well
as
he
did
,
that
nothing
was
further
from
his
thoughts
than
any
desire
to
be
in
at
the
death
.
The
young
man
was
a
great
favorite
with
his
uncle
,
and
by
no
means
despised
by
his
pretty
,
gipsy-faced
,
light-hearted
,
hoydenish
cousin
,
Miss
Alicia
Audley
.
It
might
have
seemed
to
other
men
,
that
the
partiality
of
a
young
lady
who
was
sole
heiress
to
a
very
fine
estate
,
was
rather
well
worth
cultivating
,
but
it
did
not
so
occur
to
Robert
Audley
.
Alicia
was
a
very
nice
girl
,
he
said
,
a
jolly
girl
,
with
no
nonsense
about
her
—
a
girl
of
a
thousand
;
but
this
was
the
highest
point
to
which
enthusiasm
could
carry
him
.
The
idea
of
turning
his
cousin
's
girlish
liking
for
him
to
some
good
account
never
entered
his
idle
brain
.
I
doubt
if
he
even
had
any
correct
notion
of
the
amount
of
his
uncle
's
fortune
,
and
I
am
certain
that
he
never
for
one
moment
calculated
upon
the
chances
of
any
part
of
that
fortune
ultimately
coming
to
himself
.
So
that
when
,
one
fine
spring
morning
,
about
three
months
before
the
time
of
which
I
am
writing
,
the
postman
brought
him
the
wedding
cards
of
Sir
Michael
and
Lady
Audley
,
together
with
a
very
indignant
letter
from
his
cousin
,
setting
forth
how
her
father
had
just
married
a
wax-dollish
young
person
,
no
older
than
Alicia
herself
,
with
flaxen
ringlets
,
and
a
perpetual
giggle
;
for
I
am
sorry
to
say
that
Miss
Audley
's
animus
caused
her
thus
to
describe
that
pretty
musical
laugh
which
had
been
so
much
admired
in
the
late
Miss
Lucy
Graham
—
when
,
I
say
,
these
documents
reached
Robert
Audley
—
they
elicited
neither
vexation
nor
astonishment
in
the
lymphatic
nature
of
that
gentleman
.
He
read
Alicia
's
angry
crossed
and
recrossed
letter
without
so
much
as
removing
the
amber
mouth-piece
of
his
German
pipe
from
his
mustached
lips
.
When
he
had
finished
the
perusal
of
the
epistle
,
which
he
read
with
his
dark
eyebrows
elevated
to
the
center
of
his
forehead
(
his
only
manner
of
expressing
surprise
,
by
the
way
)
he
deliberately
threw
that
and
the
wedding
cards
into
the
waste-paper
basket
,
and
putting
down
his
pipe
,
prepared
himself
for
the
exertion
of
thinking
out
the
subject
.
"
I
always
said
the
old
buffer
would
marry
,
"
he
muttered
,
after
about
half
an
hour
's
revery
.
Alicia
and
my
lady
,
the
stepmother
,
will
go
at
it
hammer
and
tongs
.
I
hope
they
wo
n't
quarrel
in
the
hunting
season
,
or
say
unpleasant
things
to
each
other
at
the
dinner-table
;
rows
always
upset
a
man
's
digestion
.
At
about
twelve
o'clock
on
the
morning
following
that
night
upon
which
the
events
recorded
in
my
last
chapter
had
taken
place
,
the
baronet
's
nephew
strolled
out
of
the
Temple
,
Blackfriarsward
,
on
his
way
to
the
city
.
He
had
in
an
evil
hour
obliged
some
necessitous
friend
by
putting
the
ancient
name
of
Audley
across
a
bill
of
accommodation
,
which
bill
not
having
been
provided
for
by
the
drawer
,
Robert
was
called
upon
to
pay
.
For
this
purpose
he
sauntered
up
Ludgate
Hill
,
with
his
blue
necktie
fluttering
in
the
hot
August
air
,
and
thence
to
a
refreshingly
cool
banking-house
in
a
shady
court
out
of
St.
Paul
's
churchyard
,
where
he
made
arrangements
for
selling
out
a
couple
of
hundred
pounds
'
worth
of
consols
.
He
had
transacted
this
business
,
and
was
loitering
at
the
corner
of
the
court
,
waiting
for
a
chance
hansom
to
convey
him
back
to
the
Temple
,
when
he
was
almost
knocked
down
by
a
man
of
about
his
own
age
,
who
dashed
headlong
into
the
narrow
opening
.
"
Be
so
good
as
to
look
where
you
're
going
,
my
friend
!
"
Robert
remonstrated
,
mildly
,
to
the
impetuous
passenger
;
"
you
might
give
a
man
warning
before
you
throw
him
down
and
trample
upon
him
.
"
The
stranger
stopped
suddenly
,
looked
very
hard
at
the
speaker
,
and
then
gasped
for
breath
.
"
Bob
!
"
he
cried
,
in
a
tone
expressive
of
the
most
intense
astonishment
;
"
I
only
touched
British
ground
after
dark
last
night
,
and
to
think
that
I
should
meet
you
this
morning
.
"
"
I
've
seen
you
somewhere
before
,
my
bearded
friend
,
"
said
Mr.
Audley
,
calmly
scrutinizing
the
animated
face
of
the
other
,
"
but
I
'll
be
hanged
if
I
can
remember
when
or
where
.
"
"
What
!
"
exclaimed
the
stranger
,
reproachfully
.
"
You
do
n't
mean
to
say
that
you
've
forgotten
George
Talboys
?
"
"
No
I
have
not
!
"
said
Robert
,
with
an
emphasis
by
no
means
usual
to
him
;
and
then
hooking
his
arm
into
that
of
his
friend
,
he
led
him
into
the
shady
court
,
saying
,
with
his
old
indifference
,
"
and
now
,
George
tell
us
all
about
it
.
"
George
Talboys
did
tell
him
all
about
it
.
He
told
that
very
story
which
he
had
related
ten
days
before
to
the
pale
governess
on
board
the
Argus
;
and
then
,
hot
and
breathless
,
he
said
that
he
had
twenty
thousand
pounds
or
so
in
his
pocket
,
and
that
he
wanted
to
bank
it
at
Messrs.
—
—
,
who
had
been
his
bankers
many
years
before
.
"
If
you
'll
believe
me
,
I
've
only
just
left
their
counting-house
,
"
said
Robert
.
"
I
'll
go
back
with
you
,
and
we
'll
settle
that
matter
in
five
minutes
.
"
They
did
contrive
to
settle
it
in
about
a
quarter
of
an
hour
;
and
then
Robert
Audley
was
for
starting
off
immediately
for
the
Crown
and
Scepter
,
at
Greenwich
,
or
the
Castle
,
at
Richmond
,
where
they
could
have
a
bit
of
dinner
,
and
talk
over
those
good
old
times
when
they
were
together
at
Eton
.
But
George
told
his
friend
that
before
he
went
anywhere
,
before
he
shaved
or
broke
his
fast
,
or
in
any
way
refreshed
himself
after
a
night
journey
from
Liverpool
by
express
train
,
he
must
call
at
a
certain
coffee-house
in
Bridge
street
,
Westminster
,
where
he
expected
to
find
a
letter
from
his
wife
.
As
they
dashed
through
Ludgate
Hill
,
Fleet
street
,
and
the
Strand
,
in
a
fast
hansom
,
George
Talboys
poured
into
his
friend
's
ear
all
those
wild
hopes
and
dreams
which
had
usurped
such
a
dominion
over
his
sanguine
nature
.
"
I
shall
take
a
villa
on
the
banks
of
the
Thames
,
Bob
,
"
he
said
,
"
for
the
little
wife
and
myself
;
and
we
'll
have
a
yacht
,
Bob
,
old
boy
,
and
you
shall
lie
on
the
deck
and
smoke
,
while
my
pretty
one
plays
her
guitar
and
sings
songs
to
us
.
She
's
for
all
the
world
like
one
of
those
what's-its-names
,
who
got
poor
old
Ulysses
into
trouble
,
"
added
the
young
man
,
whose
classic
lore
was
not
very
great
.
The
waiters
at
the
Westminster
coffee-house
stared
at
the
hollow-eyed
,
unshaven
stranger
,
with
his
clothes
of
colonial
cut
,
and
his
boisterous
,
excited
manner
;
but
he
had
been
an
old
frequenter
of
the
place
in
his
military
days
,
and
when
they
heard
who
he
was
they
flew
to
do
his
bidding
.
He
did
not
want
much
—
only
a
bottle
of
soda-water
,
and
to
know
if
there
was
a
letter
at
the
bar
directed
to
George
Talboys
.
The
waiter
brought
the
soda-water
before
the
young
men
had
seated
themselves
in
a
shady
box
near
the
disused
fire-place
.
No
;
there
was
no
letter
for
that
name
.
The
waiter
said
it
with
consummate
indifference
,
while
he
mechanically
dusted
the
little
mahogany
table
.
George
's
face
blanched
to
a
deadly
whiteness
.
"
Talboys
,
"
he
said
;
"
perhaps
you
did
n't
hear
the
name
distinctly
—
T
,
A
,
L
,
B
,
O
,
Y
,
S.
Go
and
look
again
,
there
must
be
a
letter
.
"
The
waiter
shrugged
his
shoulders
as
he
left
the
room
,
and
returned
in
three
minutes
to
say
that
there
was
no
name
at
all
resembling
Talboys
in
the
letter
rack
.
There
was
Brown
,
and
Sanderson
,
and
Pinchbeck
;
only
three
letters
altogether
.
The
young
man
drank
his
soda-water
in
silence
,
and
then
,
leaning
his
elbows
on
the
table
,
covered
his
face
with
his
hands
.
There
was
something
in
his
manner
which
told
Robert
Audley
that
his
disappointment
,
trifling
as
it
may
appear
,
was
in
reality
a
very
bitter
one
.
He
seated
himself
opposite
to
his
friend
,
but
did
not
attempt
to
address
him
.
By-and-by
George
looked
up
,
and
mechanically
taking
a
greasy
Times
newspaper
of
the
day
before
from
a
heap
of
journals
on
the
table
,
stared
vacantly
at
the
first
page
.
I
cannot
tell
how
long
he
sat
blankly
staring
at
one
paragraph
among
the
list
of
deaths
,
before
his
dazed
brain
took
in
its
full
meaning
;
but
after
considerable
pause
he
pushed
the
newspaper
over
to
Robert
Audley
,
and
with
a
face
that
had
changed
from
its
dark
bronze
to
a
sickly
,
chalky
grayish
white
,
and
with
an
awful
calmness
in
his
manner
,
he
pointed
with
his
finger
to
a
line
which
ran
thus
:
"
On
the
24th
inst
.
,
at
Ventnor
,
Isle
of
Wight
,
Helen
Talboys
,
aged
22.
"
CHAPTER
V.
THE
HEADSTONE
AT
VENTNOR
.
Yes
,
there
it
was
in
black
and
white
—
"
Helen
Talboys
,
aged
22.
"
When
George
told
the
governess
on
board
the
Argus
that
if
he
heard
any
evil
tidings
of
his
wife
he
should
drop
down
dead
,
he
spoke
in
perfect
good
faith
;
and
yet
,
here
were
the
worst
tidings
that
could
come
to
him
,
and
he
sat
rigid
,
white
and
helpless
,
staring
stupidly
at
the
shocked
face
of
his
friend
.
The
suddenness
of
the
blow
had
stunned
him
.
In
this
strange
and
bewildered
state
of
mind
he
began
to
wonder
what
had
happened
,
and
why
it
was
that
one
line
in
the
Times
newspaper
could
have
so
horrible
an
effect
upon
him
.
Then
by
degrees
even
this
vague
consciousness
of
his
misfortune
faded
slowly
out
of
his
mind
,
succeeded
by
a
painful
consciousness
of
external
things
.
The
hot
August
sunshine
,
the
dusty
window-panes
and
shabby-painted
blinds
,
a
file
of
fly-blown
play-bills
fastened
to
the
wall
,
the
black
and
empty
fire-places
,
a
bald-headed
old
man
nodding
over
the
Morning
Advertizer
,
the
slip-shod
waiter
folding
a
tumbled
table-cloth
,
and
Robert
Audley
's
handsome
face
looking
at
him
full
of
compassionate
alarm
—
he
knew
that
all
these
things
took
gigantic
proportions
,
and
then
,
one
by
one
,
melted
into
dark
blots
and
swam
before
his
eyes
,
He
knew
that
there
was
a
great
noise
,
as
of
half
a
dozen
furious
steam-engines
tearing
and
grinding
in
his
ears
,
and
he
knew
nothing
more
—
except
that
somebody
or
something
fell
heavily
to
the
ground
.
He
opened
his
eyes
upon
the
dusky
evening
in
a
cool
and
shaded
room
,
the
silence
only
broken
by
the
rumbling
of
wheels
at
a
distance
.
He
looked
about
him
wonderingly
,
but
half
indifferently
.
His
old
friend
,
Robert
Audley
,
was
seated
by
his
side
smoking
.
George
was
lying
on
a
low
iron
bedstead
opposite
to
an
open
window
,
in
which
there
was
a
stand
of
flowers
and
two
or
three
birds
in
cages
.
"
You
do
n't
mind
the
pipe
,
do
you
,
George
?
"
his
friend
asked
,
quietly
.
"
No.
"
He
lay
for
some
time
looking
at
the
flowers
and
the
birds
;
one
canary
was
singing
a
shrill
hymn
to
the
setting
sun
.
"
Do
the
birds
annoy
you
,
George
?
Shall
I
take
them
out
of
the
room
?
"
"
No
;
I
like
to
hear
them
sing
.
"
Robert
Audley
knocked
the
ashes
out
of
his
pipe
,
laid
the
precious
meerschaum
tenderly
upon
the
mantelpiece
,
and
going
into
the
next
room
,
returned
presently
with
a
cup
of
strong
tea
.
"
Take
this
,
George
,
"
he
said
,
as
he
placed
the
cup
on
a
little
table
close
to
George
's
pillow
;
"
it
will
do
your
head
good
.
"
The
young
man
did
not
answer
,
but
looked
slowly
round
the
room
,
and
then
at
his
friend
's
grave
face
.
"
Bob
,
"
he
said
,
"
where
are
we
?
"
"
In
my
chambers
,
dear
boy
,
in
the
Temple
.
You
have
no
lodgings
of
your
own
,
so
you
may
as
well
stay
with
me
while
you
're
in
town
.
"
George
passed
his
hand
once
or
twice
across
his
forehead
,
and
then
,
in
a
hesitating
manner
,
said
,
quietly
:
"
That
newspaper
this
morning
,
Bob
;
what
was
it
?
"
"
Never
mind
just
now
,
old
boy
;
drink
some
tea
.
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
cried
George
,
impatiently
,
raising
himself
upon
the
bed
,
and
staring
about
him
with
hollow
eyes
.
"
I
remember
all
about
it
.
Helen
!
my
Helen
!
my
wife
,
my
darling
,
my
only
love
!
Dead
,
dead
!
"
"
George
,
"
said
Robert
Audley
,
laying
his
hand
gently
upon
the
young
man
's
arm
,
"
you
must
remember
that
the
person
whose
name
you
saw
in
the
paper
may
not
be
your
wife
.
There
may
have
been
some
other
Helen
Talboys
.
"
"
No
,
no
!
"
he
cried
;
"
the
age
corresponds
with
hers
,
and
Talboys
is
such
an
uncommon
name
.
"
"
It
may
be
a
misprint
for
Talbot
.
"
"
No
,
no
,
no
;
my
wife
is
dead
!
"
He
shook
off
Robert
's
restraining
hand
,
and
rising
from
the
bed
,
walked
straight
to
the
door
.
"
Where
are
you
going
?
"
exclaimed
his
friend
.
"
To
Ventnor
,
to
see
her
grave
.
"
"
Not
to-night
,
George
,
not
to-night
.
I
will
go
with
you
myself
by
the
first
train
to-morrow
.
"
Robert
led
him
back
to
the
bed
,
and
gently
forced
him
to
lie
down
again
.
He
then
gave
him
an
opiate
,
which
had
been
left
for
him
by
the
medical
man
whom
they
had
called
in
at
the
coffee-house
in
Bridge
street
,
when
George
fainted
.
So
George
Talboys
fell
into
a
heavy
slumber
,
and
dreamed
that
he
went
to
Ventnor
,
to
find
his
wife
alive
and
happy
,
but
wrinkled
,
old
,
and
gray
,
and
to
find
his
son
grown
into
a
young
man
.
Early
the
next
morning
he
was
seated
opposite
to
Robert
Audley
in
the
first-class
carriage
of
an
express
,
whirling
through
the
pretty
open
country
toward
Portsmouth
.
They
landed
at
Ventnor
under
the
burning
heat
of
the
midday
sun
.
As
the
two
young
men
came
from
the
steamer
,
the
people
on
the
pier
stared
at
George
's
white
face
and
untrimmed
beard
.
"
What
are
we
to
do
,
George
?
"
Robert
Audley
asked
.
"
We
have
no
clew
to
finding
the
people
you
want
to
see
.
"
The
young
man
looked
at
him
with
a
pitiful
,
bewildered
expression
.
The
big
dragoon
was
as
helpless
as
a
baby
;
and
Robert
Audley
,
the
most
vacillating
and
unenergetic
of
men
,
found
himself
called
upon
to
act
for
another
.
He
rose
superior
to
himself
,
and
equal
to
the
occasion
.
"
Had
we
not
better
ask
at
one
of
the
hotels
about
a
Mrs.
Talboys
,
George
?
"
he
said
.
"
Her
father
's
name
was
Maldon
,
"
George
muttered
;
"
he
could
never
have
sent
her
here
to
die
alone
.
"
They
said
nothing
more
;
but
Robert
walked
straight
to
a
hotel
where
he
inquired
for
a
Mr.
Maldon
.
Yes
,
they
told
him
,
there
was
a
gentleman
of
that
name
stopping
at
Ventnor
,
a
Captain
Maldon
;
his
daughter
was
lately
dead
.
The
waiter
would
go
and
inquire
for
the
address
.
The
hotel
was
a
busy
place
at
this
season
;
people
hurrying
in
and
out
,
and
a
great
bustle
of
grooms
and
waiters
about
the
halls
.
George
Talboys
leaned
against
the
doorpost
,
with
much
the
same
look
in
his
face
,
as
that
which
had
frightened
his
friend
in
the
Westminister
coffee-house
.
The
worst
was
confirmed
now
.
His
wife
,
Captain
Maldon
's
daughter
was
dead
.
The
waiter
returned
in
about
five
minutes
to
say
that
Captain
Maldon
was
lodging
at
Lansdowne
Cottage
,
No.
4.
They
easily
found
the
house
,
a
shabby
,
low-windowed
cottage
,
looking
toward
the
water
.
Was
Captain
Maldon
at
home
?
No
,
the
landlady
said
;
he
had
gone
out
on
the
beach
with
his
little
grandson
.
Would
the
gentleman
walk
in
and
sit
down
a
bit
?
George
mechanically
followed
his
friend
into
the
little
front
parlor
—
dusty
,
shabbily
furnished
,
and
disorderly
,
with
a
child
's
broken
toys
scattered
on
the
floor
,
and
the
scent
of
stale
tobacco
hanging
about
the
muslin
window-curtains
.
"
Look
!
"
said
George
,
pointing
to
a
picture
over
the
mantelpiece
.
It
was
his
own
portrait
,
painted
in
the
old
dragooning
days
.
A
pretty
good
likeness
,
representing
him
in
uniform
,
with
his
charger
in
the
background
.
Perhaps
the
most
animated
of
men
would
have
been
scarcely
so
wise
a
comforter
as
Robert
Audley
.
He
did
not
utter
a
word
to
the
stricken
widower
,
but
quietly
seated
himself
with
his
back
to
George
,
looking
out
of
the
open
window
.
For
some
time
the
young
man
wandered
restlessly
about
the
room
,
looking
at
and
sometimes
touching
the
nick-nacks
lying
here
and
there
.
Her
workbox
,
with
an
unfinished
piece
of
work
;
her
album
full
of
extracts
from
Byron
and
Moore
,
written
in
his
own
scrawling
hand
;
some
books
which
he
had
given
her
,
and
a
bunch
of
withered
flowers
in
a
vase
they
had
bought
in
Italy
.
"
Her
portrait
used
to
hang
by
the
side
of
mine
,
"
he
muttered
;
"
I
wonder
what
they
have
done
with
it
.
"
By-and-by
he
said
,
after
about
an
hour
's
silence
:
"
I
should
like
to
see
the
woman
of
the
house
;
I
should
like
to
ask
her
about
—
"
He
broke
down
,
and
buried
his
face
in
his
hands
.
Robert
summoned
the
landlady
.
She
was
a
good-natured
garrulous
creature
,
accustomed
to
sickness
and
death
,
for
many
of
her
lodgers
came
to
her
to
die
.
She
told
all
the
particulars
of
Mrs.
Talboys
'
last
hours
;
how
she
had
come
to
Ventnor
only
ten
days
before
her
death
,
in
the
last
stage
of
decline
;
and
how
,
day
by
day
,
she
had
gradually
,
but
surely
,
sunk
under
the
fatal
malady
.
Was
the
gentleman
any
relative
?
she
asked
of
Robert
Audley
,
as
George
sobbed
aloud
.
"
Yes
,
he
is
the
lady
's
husband
.
"
"
What
!
"
the
woman
cried
;
"
him
as
deserted
her
so
cruel
,
and
left
her
with
her
pretty
boy
upon
her
poor
old
father
's
hands
,
which
Captain
Maldon
has
told
me
often
,
with
the
tears
in
his
poor
eyes
?
"
"
I
did
not
desert
her
,
"
George
cried
out
;
and
then
he
told
the
history
of
his
three
years
'
struggle
.
"
Did
she
speak
of
me
?
"
he
asked
;
"
did
she
speak
of
me
—
at
—
at
the
last
?
"
"
No
,
she
went
off
as
quiet
as
a
lamb
.
She
said
very
little
from
the
first
;
but
the
last
day
she
knew
nobody
,
not
even
her
little
boy
,
nor
her
poor
old
father
,
who
took
on
awful
.
Once
she
went
off
wild-like
,
talking
about
her
mother
,
and
about
the
cruel
shame
it
was
to
leave
her
to
die
in
a
strange
place
,
till
it
was
quite
pitiful
to
hear
her
.
"
"
Her
mother
died
when
she
was
quite
a
child
,
"
said
George
.
"
To
think
that
she
should
remember
her
and
speak
of
her
,
but
never
once
of
me
.
"
The
woman
took
him
into
the
little
bedroom
in
which
his
wife
had
died
.
He
knelt
down
by
the
bed
and
kissed
the
pillow
tenderly
,
the
landlady
crying
as
he
did
so
.
While
he
was
kneeling
,
praying
,
perhaps
,
with
his
face
buried
in
this
humble
,
snow-white
pillow
,
the
woman
took
something
from
a
drawer
.
She
gave
it
to
him
when
he
rose
from
his
knees
;
it
was
a
long
tress
of
hair
wrapped
in
silver
paper
.
"
I
cut
this
off
when
she
lay
in
her
coffin
,
"
she
said
,
"
poor
dear
?
"
He
pressed
the
soft
lock
to
his
lips
.
"
Yes
,
"
he
murmured
;
"
this
is
the
dear
hair
that
I
have
kissed
so
often
when
her
head
lay
upon
my
shoulder
.
But
it
always
had
a
rippling
wave
in
it
then
,
and
now
it
seems
smooth
and
straight
.
"
"
It
changes
in
illness
,
"
said
the
landlady
.
"
If
you
'd
like
to
see
where
they
have
laid
her
,
Mr.
Talboys
,
my
little
boy
shall
show
you
the
way
to
the
churchyard
.
"
So
George
Talboys
and
his
faithful
friend
walked
to
the
quiet
spot
,
where
,
beneath
a
mound
of
earth
,
to
which
the
patches
of
fresh
turf
hardly
adhered
,
lay
that
wife
of
whose
welcoming
smile
George
had
dreamed
so
often
in
the
far
antipodes
.
Robert
left
the
young
man
by
the
side
of
this
newly-made
grave
,
and
returning
in
about
a
quarter
of
an
hour
,
found
that
he
had
not
once
stirred
.
He
looked
up
presently
,
and
said
that
if
there
was
a
stone-mason
's
anywhere
near
he
should
like
to
give
an
order
.
They
very
easily
found
the
stonemason
,
and
sitting
down
amidst
the
fragmentary
litter
of
the
man
's
yard
,
George
Talboys
wrote
in
pencil
this
brief
inscription
for
the
headstone
of
his
dead
wife
's
grave
:
Sacred
to
the
Memory
of
HELEN
,
THE
BELOVED
WIFE
OF
GEORGE
TALBOYS
,
Who
departed
this
life
August
24th
,
18
—
,
aged
22
,
Deeply
regretted
by
her
sorrowing
Husband
.
CHAPTER
VI
.
ANYWHERE
,
ANYWHERE
OUT
OF
THE
WORLD
.
When
they
returned
to
Lansdowne
Cottage
they
found
the
old
man
had
not
yet
come
in
,
so
they
walked
down
to
the
beach
to
look
for
him
.
After
a
brief
search
they
found
him
,
sitting
upon
a
heap
of
pebbles
,
reading
a
newspaper
and
eating
filberts
.
The
little
boy
was
at
some
distance
from
his
grandfather
,
digging
in
the
sand
with
a
wooden
spade
.
The
crape
round
the
old
man
's
shabby
hat
,
and
the
child
's
poor
little
black
frock
,
went
to
George
's
heart
.
Go
where
he
would
he
met
fresh
confirmation
of
this
great
grief
of
his
life
.
His
wife
was
dead
.
"
Mr.
Maldon
,
"
he
said
,
as
he
approached
his
father-in-law
.
The
old
man
looked
up
,
and
,
dropping
his
newspaper
,
rose
from
the
pebbles
with
a
ceremonious
bow
.
His
faded
light
hair
was
tinged
with
gray
;
he
had
a
pinched
hook
nose
;
watery
blue
eyes
,
and
an
irresolute-looking
mouth
;
he
wore
his
shabby
dress
with
an
affectation
of
foppish
gentility
;
an
eye-glass
dangled
over
his
closely
buttoned-up
waistcoat
,
and
he
carried
a
cane
in
his
ungloved
hand
.
"
Great
Heaven
!
"
cried
George
,
"
do
n't
you
know
me
?
"
Mr.
Maldon
started
and
colored
violently
,
with
something
of
a
frightened
look
,
as
he
recognized
his
son-in-law
.
"
My
dear
boy
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
did
not
;
for
the
first
moment
I
did
not
.
That
beard
makes
such
a
difference
.
You
find
the
beard
makes
a
great
difference
,
do
you
not
,
sir
?
"
he
said
,
appealing
to
Robert
.
"
Great
heavens
!
"
exclaimed
George
Talboys
,
"
is
this
the
way
you
welcome
me
?
I
come
to
England
to
find
my
wife
dead
within
a
week
of
my
touching
land
,
and
you
begin
to
chatter
to
me
about
my
beard
—
you
,
her
father
!
"
"
True
!
true
!
"
muttered
the
old
man
,
wiping
his
bloodshot
eyes
;
"
a
sad
shock
,
a
sad
shock
,
my
dear
George
.
If
you
'd
only
been
here
a
week
earlier
.
"
"
If
I
had
,
"
cried
George
,
in
an
outburst
of
grief
and
passion
,
"
I
scarcely
think
that
I
would
have
let
her
die
.
I
would
have
disputed
for
her
with
death
.
I
would
!
I
would
!
Oh
God
!
why
did
not
the
Argus
go
down
with
every
soul
on
board
her
before
I
came
to
see
this
day
?
"
He
began
to
walk
up
and
down
the
beach
,
his
father-in-law
looking
helplessly
at
him
,
rubbing
his
feeble
eyes
with
a
handkerchief
.
"
I
've
a
strong
notion
that
that
old
man
did
n't
treat
his
daughter
too
well
,
"
thought
Robert
,
as
he
watched
the
half-pay
lieutenant
.
"
He
seems
,
for
some
reason
or
other
,
to
be
half
afraid
of
George
.
"
While
the
agitated
young
man
walked
up
and
down
in
a
fever
of
regret
and
despair
,
the
child
ran
to
his
grandfather
,
and
clung
about
the
tails
of
his
coat
.
"
Come
home
,
grandpa
,
come
home
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
'm
tired
.
"
George
Talboys
turned
at
the
sound
of
the
babyish
voice
,
and
looked
long
and
earnestly
at
the
boy
.
He
had
his
father
's
brown
eyes
and
dark
hair
.
"
My
darling
!
my
darling
!
"
said
George
,
taking
the
child
in
his
arms
,
"
I
am
your
father
,
come
across
the
sea
to
find
you
.
Will
you
love
me
?
"
The
little
fellow
pushed
him
away
.
"
I
do
n't
know
you
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
love
grandpa
and
Mrs.
Monks
at
Southampton
.
"
"
Georgey
has
a
temper
of
his
own
,
sir
,
"
said
the
old
man
.
"
He
has
been
spoiled
.
"
They
walked
slowly
back
to
the
cottage
,
and
once
more
George
Talboys
told
the
history
of
that
desertion
which
had
seemed
so
cruel
.
He
told
,
too
,
of
the
twenty
thousand
pounds
banked
by
him
the
day
before
.
He
had
not
the
heart
to
ask
any
questions
about
the
past
,
and
his
father-in-law
only
told
him
that
a
few
months
after
his
departure
they
had
gone
from
the
place
where
George
left
them
to
live
at
Southampton
,
where
Helen
got
a
few
pupils
for
the
piano
,
and
where
they
managed
pretty
well
till
her
health
failed
,
and
she
fell
into
the
decline
of
which
she
died
.
Like
most
sad
stories
it
was
a
very
brief
one
.
"
The
boy
seems
fond
of
you
,
Mr.
Maldon
,
"
said
George
,
after
a
pause
.
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
answered
the
old
man
,
smoothing
the
child
's
curling
hair
;
"
yes
.
Georgey
is
very
fond
of
his
grandfather
.
"
"
Then
he
had
better
stop
with
you
.
The
interest
of
my
money
will
be
about
six
hundred
a
year
.
You
can
draw
a
hundred
of
that
for
Georgey
's
education
,
leaving
the
rest
to
accumulate
till
he
is
of
age
.
My
friend
here
will
be
trustee
,
and
if
he
will
undertake
the
charge
,
I
will
appoint
him
guardian
to
the
boy
,
allowing
him
for
the
present
to
remain
under
your
care
.
"
"
But
why
not
take
care
of
him
yourself
,
George
?
"
asked
Robert
Audley
.
"
Because
I
shall
sail
in
the
very
next
vessel
that
leaves
Liverpool
for
Australia
.
I
shall
be
better
in
the
diggings
or
the
backwoods
than
ever
I
could
be
here
.
I
'm
broken
for
a
civilized
life
from
this
hour
,
Bob
.
"
The
old
man
's
weak
eyes
sparkled
as
George
declared
this
determination
.
"
My
poor
boy
,
I
think
you
're
right
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
really
think
you
're
right
.
The
change
,
the
wild
life
,
the
—
the
—
"
He
hesitated
and
broke
down
as
Robert
looked
earnestly
at
him
.
"
You
're
in
a
great
hurry
to
get
rid
of
your
son-in-law
,
I
think
,
Mr.
Maldon
,
"
he
said
,
gravely
.
"
Get
rid
of
him
,
dear
boy
!
Oh
,
no
,
no
!
But
for
his
own
sake
,
my
dear
sir
,
for
his
own
sake
,
you
know
.
"
"
I
think
for
his
own
sake
he
'd
much
better
stay
in
England
and
look
after
his
son
,
"
said
Robert
.
"
But
I
tell
you
I
ca
n't
,
"
cried
George
;
"
every
inch
of
this
accursed
ground
is
hateful
to
me
—
I
want
to
run
out
of
it
as
I
would
out
of
a
graveyard
.
I
'll
go
back
to
town
to-night
,
get
that
business
about
the
money
settled
early
to-morrow
morning
,
and
start
for
Liverpool
without
a
moment
's
delay
.
I
shall
be
better
when
I
've
put
half
the
world
between
me
and
her
grave
.
"
"
Before
he
left
the
house
he
stole
out
to
the
landlady
,
and
asked
some
more
questions
about
his
dead
wife
.
"
Were
they
poor
?
"
he
asked
,
"
were
they
pinched
for
money
while
she
was
ill
?
"
"
Oh
,
no
!
"
the
woman
answered
;
"
though
the
captain
dresses
shabby
,
he
has
always
plenty
of
sovereigns
in
his
purse
.
The
poor
lady
wanted
for
nothing
.
"
George
was
relieved
at
this
,
though
it
puzzled
him
to
know
where
the
drunken
half-pay
lieutenant
could
have
contrived
to
find
money
for
all
the
expenses
of
his
daughter
's
illness
.
But
he
was
too
thoroughly
broken
down
by
the
calamity
which
had
befallen
him
to
be
able
to
think
much
of
anything
,
so
he
asked
no
further
questions
,
but
walked
with
his
father-in-law
and
Robert
Audley
down
to
the
boat
by
which
they
were
to
cross
to
Portsmouth
.
The
old
man
bade
Robert
a
very
ceremonious
adieu
.
"
You
did
not
introduce
me
to
your
friend
,
by-the-bye
,
my
dear
boy
,
"
he
said
.
George
stared
at
him
,
muttered
something
indistinct
,
and
ran
down
the
ladder
to
the
boat
before
Mr.
Maldon
could
repeat
his
request
.
The
steamer
sped
away
through
the
sunset
,
and
the
outline
of
the
island
melted
in
the
horizon
as
they
neared
the
opposite
shore
.
"
To
think
,
"
said
George
,
"
that
two
nights
ago
,
at
this
time
,
I
was
steaming
into
Liverpool
,
full
of
the
hope
of
clasping
her
to
my
heart
,
and
to-night
I
am
going
away
from
her
grave
!
"
The
document
which
appointed
Robert
Audley
as
guardian
to
little
George
Talboys
was
drawn
up
in
a
solicitor
's
office
the
next
morning
.
"
It
's
a
great
responsibility
,
"
exclaimed
Robert
;
"
I
,
guardian
to
anybody
or
anything
!
I
,
who
never
in
my
life
could
take
care
of
myself
!
"
"
I
trust
in
your
noble
heart
,
Bob
,
"
said
George
.
"
I
know
you
will
take
care
of
my
poor
orphan
boy
,
and
see
that
he
is
well
used
by
his
grandfather
.
I
shall
only
draw
enough
from
Georgey
's
fortune
to
take
me
back
to
Sydney
,
and
then
begin
my
old
work
again
.
"
But
it
seemed
as
if
George
was
destined
to
be
himself
the
guardian
of
his
son
;
for
when
he
reached
Liverpool
,
he
found
that
a
vessel
had
just
sailed
,
and
that
there
would
not
be
another
for
a
month
;
so
he
returned
to
London
,
and
once
more
threw
himself
upon
Robert
Audley
's
hospitality
.
The
barrister
received
him
with
open
arms
;
he
gave
him
the
room
with
the
birds
and
flowers
,
and
had
a
bed
put
up
in
his
dressing-room
for
himself
.
Grief
is
so
selfish
that
George
did
not
know
the
sacrifices
his
friend
made
for
his
comfort
.
He
only
knew
that
for
him
the
sun
was
darkened
,
and
the
business
of
life
done
.
He
sat
all
day
long
smoking
cigars
,
and
staring
at
the
flowers
and
canaries
,
chafing
for
the
time
to
pass
that
he
might
be
far
out
at
sea
.
But
just
as
the
hour
was
drawing
near
for
the
sailing
of
the
vessel
,
Robert
Audley
came
in
one
day
,
full
of
a
great
scheme
.
A
friend
of
his
,
another
of
those
barristers
whose
last
thought
is
of
a
brief
,
was
going
to
St.
Petersburg
to
spend
the
winter
,
and
wanted
Robert
to
accompany
him
.
Robert
would
only
go
on
condition
that
George
went
too
.
For
a
long
time
the
young
man
resisted
;
but
when
he
found
that
Robert
was
,
in
a
quiet
way
,
thoroughly
determined
upon
not
going
without
him
,
he
gave
in
,
and
consented
to
join
the
party
.
What
did
it
matter
?
he
said
.
One
place
was
the
same
to
him
as
another
;
anywhere
out
of
England
;
what
did
he
care
where
?
This
was
not
a
very
cheerful
way
of
looking
at
things
,
but
Robert
Audley
was
quite
satisfied
with
having
won
his
consent
.
The
three
young
men
started
under
very
favorable
circumstances
,
carrying
letters
of
introduction
to
the
most
influential
inhabitants
of
the
Russian
capital
.
Before
leaving
England
,
Robert
wrote
to
his
cousin
Alicia
,
telling
her
of
his
intended
departure
with
his
old
friend
George
Talboys
,
whom
he
had
lately
met
for
the
first
time
after
a
lapse
of
years
,
and
who
had
just
lost
his
wife
.
Alicia
's
reply
came
by
return
post
,
and
ran
thus
:
"
MY
DEAR
ROBERT
—
How
cruel
of
you
to
run
away
to
that
horrid
St.
Petersburg
before
the
hunting
season
!
I
have
heard
that
people
lose
their
noses
in
that
disagreeable
climate
,
and
as
yours
is
rather
a
long
one
,
I
should
advise
you
to
return
before
the
very
severe
weather
sets
in
.
What
sort
of
person
is
this
Mr.
Talboys
?
