Beatrice Boville and Other Stories

to Epsom the next morning; blackguarding each other in parliamentary language-which, on my honor, will soon want duels revived to keep it within decent breeding, if Lord Robert Cecil an

her life. Earlscourt was excessively distant to me after seeing my tilbury at her door; no doubt he thought it strange for me to have continued my intimacy with a woman who had wronged him so bitterly. He said nothing, but I could see he was exceedingly displeased; and the more I tried to smooth it with him, the more completely I seemed to set my foot in it. It was exceedingly difficult to touch on any obnoxious subject with him; he was never harsh or discourteous, but he could freeze the atmosphere about him gently, but so completely, that no mortal could pierce through it; and, fettered by my promise to her and his prohibition to me, I hardly knew how to bring up her name. As the Fates would have it, I often met Beatrice myself, at the Regent Park fêtes, at concerts, at a Handel Festival at Sydenham, at one or two dinner parties; and, as she generally made way for me beside her, and was one of those women who are invariably, though without effort, admired and surrounded in any society, possibly people remarked it-possibly our continued intimacy might have come round to Earlscourt, specially as Lady Clive a

cious bits of woodland in the Water-Color Exhibition, where we had chanced to meet one day. "That he should have judged you as he did was not

and stood by me, not condemned me on the first suspicion. It was unchivalrous, ungenerous, u

hat he suffered as much

the rolled-up catalogue

pardoned, though I am no patient Griselda, to put up tame

ted a woman to retain resentment so long. I never blamed

at me with her haughtiest air; and on my life, m

o Lord Earlscourt. Had he cared for me, as he once vowed, he would have been less quick then to suspect me, and quicker now to give me a cha

r carriage when they left the exhibition, Earlscourt, as ill luck would have it, passed us, walking on to White's, the fringe of Beatrice's parasol brushed his arm, and a hot color flushed into her cheeks at the sudden rencontre. By the instinct of courtesy he

t, and his lips set together, as if in bodily pain. He looked at me, as I joined him, with an annoyed glance of unusual irrit

ly, Earlscourt," I began, plunging rec

e that you will pursue me with her name. I forbade

hink you judged

her confidence, enjoy it. If you choose, knowing what you do, to be misled

I would bet you any money you like that you would prove her guilty of no indelic

e for your unusual blindness. I desire, for the last time, that you cease e

e myself no more about it. Yet I couldn't altogether dismiss Beatrice's cause from my mind. I thought her, to say the truth, rather harshly used. I liked her for her fearless, truthful, impassioned character. I liked her for the very courage and pride with which she preferred to relinquish any chance of regaining her forfeited happiness, rather than stoop to solicit exculpation from charges of which she knew she was innocent. Perhaps,

trusting friends, who goes to early matins every morning, and pries out for a second all over the top of her prayer-book, who kisses 'darling Helena,' and says she 'never looked so sweetly,' whispering en petit comité what a pity it is, when Helena is so passée, she will dress like a girl just out-she is called the sweetest woman possible-so amiable! and is praised for her high knowledge of religion. You tell me I am too bitter. I think not. Honesty does not prosper, and truth is at a miserable discount; straightforward frankness makes a myriad of foes, and adroit diplomacy as many friends. If you make a prettily-turned compliment, who cares if it is sincere? if you hold your tongue where you

est to be trusted. That must have been some very innocent and unworldly village schoolmaster, I should say, who first set going that venerable proverb, "Honesty is the best policy." He must have known comically little of life. A diplomatist who took it as his motto would soon come to grief, and ladies would soon stone out of their circles any woman bêt