Robert Orange

ous portrait of "Edwyn, Lord Reckage of Almouth," which represents that nobleman elaborately dressed, reclining on a grassy bank by a spring of water, with a w

ace collar remained for days a grotesque image before his mind. He traced, too, a certain resemblance between Reckage and

f its kind. It was a present from the Emperor of the French to mamma. Her people were civil to him when he was regarded as a

he fancied he had he

he time; a lot of the depression went under the influence of frivolous talk, military music, and cham

he news, too, that she had been chosen as a bride by the prudent, rich, and most important Duke of Marshire made his lordship feel that perhaps he had committed a blunder in not having secured her, during her first season,

ut she liked me at one time. I am speaking of Sara de Treverell. Marshire is by way of being

as a clever little devil, but Robert s

ted his lordship.

s the most brillia

lordship pathetically; "sh

h you. Of course she is

And then the A

cannot destroy its angles. That is so, no doubt, with one's racial tendencies. The girl is wilful and romantic. It w

marrying. Her singularity, too, made me cautious. I couldn't believe in her. She talked like an actress in a play. I felt that she was not

ure, on the whole, that y

y mind to put an end to the matter, our friendship was severely strained. But it was

and-writing. Reckage, who had a touch of superstition in his nature, changed colour and even hesitated before he broke the seal.

James's

a friend-a dreadful, boring friend-who has been absent from England for five years.

s sin

V. de T

you and Agnes. Be kind t

them, it was not in his conscience to encourage any woman whom he did not find especially attractive or useful. Why spoil her chances? Why make her discontented with the average male creature? Had Sara written to him in ordinary circumstances, inviting him, after some months of mutual coldness, to lunch, he would have replied, with sorrowful dignity, that it was wiser to leave things as they were. But the case had altered. The future Duchess of Marshire was a personage. He made no secret of his admiration for all people of high rank. They represented influence and traditions; what was more, they could exercise a certain power, and introduce, when necess

or the second time, "very odd. There's no harm in

d uttered. The spirit invisible wears the laurel of mental victories, but the body has to bear the exhaustion, the scars, and the soreness. He was tired, but he stirred himself again to consider Sara's note. In the course of that year she had written several letters to Orange-letters about books, new pictures, and new music. Once she had given him a little song of her own composition as something of

and she flies from you. That's an old saying. It is true so long as she does not love the man.

d read her heart and whole thought at

" said Robert

le sheet and folded i

isfies the ?sthetic side of my nature. But there is another side. And Sara comes nearer to it than she. Mind you, I know my duty in

expression, all that he had known would inevitab

ed Reckage; "my nerves are in a kind of blaze. You co

rew his chair closer to the table, and talked in a low voice about his ghastly sol

s it would be awful. Agnes is very kind and most conscientious, but she does not know what is in me, what was alw

te and facts? It is necessary to look the affair in the

way. But then every girl is, to some extent, accomplished, pious, virtuous, and intelligent. I believe sometimes that my apparent indifference towards Agnes arises from the fact that I respect her-if anything-too much. She seems too remote-that is the

nge, "that you knew more

laughed

Perhaps I envy you. I can't say. I don't t

are you d

n Commandments as fall in love with your wife. I say, never begin love-making with the lady you hope to marry. It will end in disaster. Because the day must

He closed his lips and amused himself by puffing rings of smoke into the air. When he next spoke,

od, and it will che

ooks in the wind, over the pavement, and vehicles filled with men and women-an irremediable pilgrimage bound, for the greater part, on pleasure. Robert felt that he would have given gladly the treasures of a universe for just the time to think a little while of his own love. So far that great attachment had brought him aberrations, sorrow, and perplexities; all its sweetness had flown, moth-like, into his heart, there to be burnt-burnt yet left unburied: all its happiness had glorified his life against his will; all its beauty had been starved with a pitiless rigour. What then had remained? A certain state of mind-a passionate resignation to its

ill love t

is not

in dark and

l be my o

kage, who attended public places of amusement solely from the desire of exhibiting hims

ever met anything like it. Aumerle is talking to her now. He was at the Capitol this afternoon. He begins to give himself airs. I can't stand him. In fact, I cannot understand those fellows on my sub-committee. Sometimes they are-if anything-too civil. A bit servile, in fact. Then they turn out and look as though they would like to make their teeth meet in my backbone. They sulk, and whisper in groups, and snicker. I am getting sick of it. I must

ith an emotional, nervous face, a heavy beard, and dense black hair. He was leaning forward, for the seat in front of him was, at the moment, vacant; his hands were tightly locked, his eyes fixed on the cu

y, or anything in it. He is going to get married to-morrow. You know Robert Orange, don't you? You ought t

s not yet finished, but he changed that subject immediately, and the evening, which had been to Orange a trial of patience, ended rather better than it began. Lord Reckage invited Rennes to accompany them home. The artist did not appear, at first, in the mood to acc

come,"

e loved and was loved again, that he would see her to-morrow-to-morrow quite early, and then, no more unutterable farewells, heart-desolating separations. He surprised himself by say

supper," said Reck

! I cou

d them eat. First the burlesque was discussed

wski was her name, and a fellow shot himself while I was there on her account. An awful fool. I can tell you who painted

he artist in question. They talked about the exhibitions o

toret? There are so many persons whose position in life compels them to encourage art without having any real enjoyment of it. Garrow is

es

he could not break the seal. The sight of her writing filled him with a kind of agony-something beyond his control, beyond his comprehension. What did it mean-this tightening of the heart, this touch of fear, and love, and fear

not to think of you too often. But I have had a great deal of sorrow, and everything I have in the world-except you-is a grief. I know that we are not born to be happy, and so, I wonder, have we stolen our happiness? If it is a gift-I know not what to do with it. I

voice brok

d try this rum omel

he room. Rennes remarked t

d he would never deceive another. B

way?" ask

a devilish fine chap he is! I wish to G

hy

tiful, too. As clever as they make 'em, and not a breath against her. All the same, I

I believe that a love match-even when it dissolves, as it may

gs. Lord Reckage was the first a