Mrs. Falchion, Volume 1.

rifted from the book, and then occurred a strange, incongruous thing. It was

ayfully, as though to bar his way. His foot slipped on the oily floor, and the acid spilled on his hands and the skirt of her dress. He turned instantly and plunged his hands into a measure of alcohol standing n

to him; her father owned the shop, and was well-to-do. Still, he grieved most that s

hen crossed the

m. She was to be married the next day to a seller of purple and fine linen. He was smiling a good-bye, and there was nothing of the old past in the smile. The flame now was i

the measures are

will loathe you to-m

lindly stretched out her hands and fo

bterranean association of things, which brought these scenes vividl

terwards it becomes the cypher, and even at its highest it is expressed by angles, lines, and geometrical forms-substances and allusive shapes. But now, as the scene shifted by, I had involuntarily thrust forward my hands as did the girl when she pa

s manner was hesitating and anxious now. I knew at a glance that he was suffering from both physical pain and men

udied him. The chin was firm, and the eyes had a dogged, persistent look that, when turned on you, saw not you, but something beyond you. The head was thrown slightly forward, the eyes looking up at an angle. This last action was habitual with him. It gave him a peculiar earnestness. As I note

icide. Look at the Maori, the Tongan, the Malay. They can also prolong life (not indefinitely, but in a case like yours considerably), if

ore possible cast, if it is to be followed. I was aware also that, in nine cases out of te

n constitutions; and I believe, Doctor, that you must kill a nerve before it ceases to hurt. One doesn't choose to worry, I th

arks of some endured shame. The suffering and shadows showed the more because his features were refined enough for a woman. And altogether it struck me that he was possessed by some one idea, which gave his looks

and a little child, a great man and a labourer, a schoolgirl and an old native woman. There is in such companionships less self-interest than in any other. As I have said, I thought that this man had a trouble, and I wished to know it

d said: "I know that. I am af

ach other steadily, and then he added, with

he linen dropped away from his throat, a small portrait on ivory was exposed on his breast. I did not look closely at it then, but it struck me that the woman's head in the portrait was familiar, though the artistic work was not recent, and the fashion of the hair was of years before. When

essness of remedies, he sat down again. As I handed him the phial, I continued: "I know that it is none of my business, but you are suffering.

forgotten the way of kindness. Then he stretched out his hand and said brokenly: "I am grateful, believe me. I cannot tell you just now, but I will soon, perhaps." His hand was upon the curtain of the door, when my st

ned as if about to speak, but he said nothing. At the instant there came

nd a meaning smile took the place of words, as he

e door. She looked displeased. "Justine has hurt hersel

hief soaked in blood. Her dress and the floor were also stained. I undid the handkerchief and found an ugly wound in the palm of the hand. I called the steward, and sent him to my dispensary for some necessaries; then I asked her how it happened. At the moment I saw the

a knock, but the curtai

s heard. "My dress

eakly replied: "I am ver

bed, Justine. I shall not want you again to-night. But I shall change my dres

in the morning, I am sure." Then she added quietly to me: "The poor madame! She will not see suff

d guessing why it was there, I said: "Ye

might have said too much, she hurriedly added: "But she is very kind;" and, stooping down quickly, her face

in her deck-chair. I brought a stool over, and sat down beside her. To this h

said, and her hand made a

ot dangerously

on board, I believe, before we get to Aden. How tiresome! Isn't it a little

ly, inviting a question. She

wh

tumes are worn, and how mu

oes it pay? What re

e jealous, and one is devoted- isn't that

, with a puzzling and not quite satisfac

n that inquiring look in her eyes-such a measuring look as a r

ntinued, I thought, abstracte

meditation, "As Caius Cassius. Why

her eyebr

Port

ered on, at the same time receiving her

!" This in a disdainful tone, and th

tentatively also, and certainly with a touch of rudeness. I was thin

f a gentleman? Caius Cassius was that, wa

was punished once for rudenes

was the de

amed too, that I had attempted to be playfully satirical. And so, wonderin

t I do not really like it; it is treacherou

s. Falch

avel," she vaguely added

avelled much

r eyes. It occurred to me at the moment that she mi

think of the melodramatic turn which my first conversation with this woman might chance to take. I felt that I was dealing

understand seamanship, if you have travelled much?" I do not

I know the argot, I could tell the shrouds from th

complishment usu

y part of my life," was the idle reply; and sh

rred to me that she was, perhaps, leading me on, instead of

replied. "My father was

and

e from the Island

more softly; "it is ye

ther is bur

a romantic life in tho

agueness. "I am afraid you must ask some one else about that sort of thing. I did not

a vessel!" I said; and I watched the lights in silenc

I suppose life must be somewhat adventurous and dangerous

are not to suppose anything of the kind. Th

selfish and unselfish, the native became the victim of civilisation, the prey of the white trader and beachcomber, who were protected by men-of-war with convincing Nordenfeldt and Hotchkiss guns; how the stalwart force of

ss of missionaries, the fair dealing of traders, the perfect i

;" and she paused, listening to a song which came from the after-part of the ship. Th

mmed it, and some voices of the first-cl

for a rove

e old

from one of the intermediate passenger

g, I'm a-sail

where the w

ie, do you

e, do you lo

for a rover

e old

the fingers were shapely, but not markedly tapering, and suggested firmness. I remarked afterward, when I chanced to shake hands with her, that her fingers enclosed one's hand; it was not a mere touch or pressure, but an unemoti

it somewhere," she ans

ance had been singular from its beginning, and it did not seem at that moment as it looks on paper;

at me with a neutral expression and some reserve of

not." That imp

ing vessel, and there, leaning against the railing that divided the two decks, was the Intermediate Passenger. He was lo

alling the other. Hungerford was passing just then, and

Porcupine', bound

as she leaned forward looking, and then,

ompany you

of the melody which the soft, tropical atmosphere rendered still more languorous. With Mrs. Falchion's hand upon my arm, I felt a sense of capitulation to the music and to her, uncanny in its suddenness. At this dista

f beauty and grace, but never one who, like Mrs. Falchion, being beautiful, seemed so unconscious of the fact, so indifferent to those about her, so untouched by another's emotion,

acknowledged her talent and her imperial attraction. Among the men her name was never spoken but with reserve and respect, and her afternoon teas were like a little court. She had no co

ican woman dance?" she asked in

ancing, save what one ge

and I have seen-which is so much more-those Spanish-Mexican women dance. Did you ever see anything so thrilling, so splendid, that you felt you must possess it?"-She asked me that with her hand upon my arm!-"Well, that is it. I have felt that way towards a

nary morbidness, unless her dislike of all suffering was morbid. With her t

y silence. She seemed to have thoughts of her own; but she shook them off with a little firm motion of the

reply. "Delighted to

" was the qu

the purpose?" This in

sh, Dr. Marmion. I dis

me th

ut w

met, and all that; for I suppose you hav

ases?" I said a l

everything that is sick

venture, "if not a hospi

arm twitch slightly, a

s wretched and wicked. You are eit

hen, a c

that kind of commonplace. I should prefer, unless your vanity leads you irresistibly in that direction, something with

of Professor Valiant's wife. I think it was not

o be rustier than usual. He was our professor in science. It was the general belief that he chose science for his life-work because it gave unusual opportunities for torture. He was believed to be a devoted vivisectionis

d because she would not be his slave, she had a hard time of it. He began by insisting that she should learn science, that she might assist him in his experiments. She knew that she had no taste for it, that it was no part of her wifely duty, and she did what suited her better-followed the hounds. It

most other men in the different years, Valiant was more gracious to me than the rest, though I did not like him. One day, when I called, I heard her

ot have exceeded the regulation once had it not been for Mrs. Valiant. The last time I went is as clear in my memory as if it were yesterday. Valiant was more satirical and cold-blooded than usual. I noticed a kind of shining hardness in hi

that I intended to follow, having been offered a horse. With a steely ring to her voice, and a further brightening o

thought, and rejoined: 'Carbine is a valuable hors

her husband, said: 'Carbine is a perfect gentlem

you have!'

and not a little enthusiastically, 'that

t be. Thank you, Marmy, fo

entirely under his breath; 'horses obey, and stud

hing, Edward,' she remarked

armion, but it is sardonic too; for you shall find that

ve place to the generated; but the influence spreads out beyond the fragments, and is greater thus than in the mass-neither matter nor mind ca

d to us that week. After an instant he said, with slow maliciousness: 'Oh, ye gods, re

I am, I am even poor in thanks.' I will leave you now to your cigarettes; and because I must go out soon, and

gars, saying as he handed it: 'Conversation is a science, Marmion. Study it; there is solid satisfaction

stiff-so stiff that I couldn't have taken half of them. Afterward I was not sorry that I couldn't; for she rode for a fall that day on Carbine, her own horse, she had bought him of Major Karney a few days before,-and I heard her last words as she lay beside him, smiling through the dreadful whitene

read, 'For that it hath pleased Thee to deliver this our sister out of the miseries of this sinful world,' Big Wallington, the wildest chap among the

me, and things came to such a pass that all of us must be sent down, or Valiant resign. He resigned.

ie. She should have stayed and fought him-fought him every way, until she was his master. She could have done it; she was clever, I should think. Still, if she had to die, it was better to go with a good horse that way. I think I should prefer to go swiftly, suddenly

, was caused by the voice o

g, I'm a-sail

where the w

, after a slight pause: "This is a liberal acquaintance for

fear we should all be very silent if we waited for regular introductions here. The acq

could have bitten my tongue for playing the cavalier as I had done; for showing, as I think I did, that she ha

my thoughts became less exact; they drifted. My eyes shifted to the lights of the 'Porcupine' in the distance, and from them again to the figures passing and repassing me on the deck. The "All's well" of the look-out seemed to come from an endless distance; the swish of water against the dividing hull of the 'Fulvia' sounded like a call to silence from another world; the phosphorescence swimming through the jarred waters added to the sensatio

ers and be married in England; a few officers fleeing from India with their livers and their lives; a family of four lanky lasses travelling "home" to school; a row of affable ladies, who alternated between envy and gaiety and delight in, and criticism of, their husbands; a couple of missionaries, preparing to give us lectures on the infamous gods of the heathen,-gods which, poor harmless little creatures! might be bought at a few annas a pint at Aden or Colombo

Clovelly at last, "are the bookmaker, Miss Treherne, and the

ncy," was my reply. "Bu

I am not q

travelling for his health, a notable man with a taste for science, wh

her in the list of the m

esti

him, but no one quite like his d

Falc

chion or the

ut Miss Treherne? She had not

u will find her to be the perfection of a type-the finest expression of a decorous convention, a perfect produ

and applying to her the novelist's system of analysis, which makes an imperfect individual a perfect typ

r a patient," he said, "do you arrange a diagnosis of a type

ype in connection

as to Miss Treherne: I want to say that, having been admitted to her acquaintance and tha

Clovelly," said I. "

u to Miss Treherne, if you will let me. You've met her fa

im. He is a courteous and

, Miss Treherne is sitting there with

ed. "Blackburn, the Queen

better," he s

s, singing "The Angels' Serenade," while an excitable bear-leader turned her music for her. Near her stood a lanky girl who adored actors and tenors, an

rd touched me on the arm, and said: "I want to see you for

ce to say, and, linking my arm in his, I went with him to hi