The History of Sir Richard Calmady

St. Luke's day, a man died, and

lius March, after reciting the prayer in which the Anglican Church commends the souls of her departing children to the merciful keeping of the God who gave them, had followed him. The doctor was acutely distressed. He

h, but I'm not altogether sorry. I dare say I'm a bit of a heathen; but I can't help fanc

om, with Iles, the steward, and Mr. Tom Chifney, the trainer from the racing st

at all,

ichard's fine constitution. He is as sound as only a clean-living man of thirty can be.-I wish there were a few more like him, though your beastly diseases do put money into my pocket.-That offered us a bare chance, and we were bound to act on that chance"-his loose lips w

ry tired, very miserable. A shocking thing had happened, and, in some degree, he held himself responsible for that happening. For was it not he who had been so besotted with the Clown, and keen about

ttitude a model of discreet and self-respecting repose. Mrs. Denny knew her place, and had a considerable capacity for letting other persons know theirs. She ruled the large household with unruffled calm. But, to-night, even he

there, save during one hour,-the memory of which haunted Katherine with hideous and sickening persistence,-ever since Tom Chifney,

ed. At the head of this stood a high, double-shelved what-not, bearing medicine bottles, cups, basins, rolled bandages, dressings of rag and lint, a spirit-lamp over which simmered a vessel containing vinegar, and a couple of shaded candles in a tall

ng her husband, the side of her large easy-ch

her love. She met the blow standing, her brain clear, her mind strong to help. Only once had she faltered-during the hideous hour when she waited, pacing the dining-room in the dusk, four evenings back. For, after consultation with Dr. Jewsbury and Mr. Thoms of Westchurch, John Knott had told her-with a gentleness and delicacy a

, let him be. If you are there it will just double the strain. He'd su

he loved. A tempest of unutterable woe swept over her. Breaking fiercely away from her brother and Denny-who strove to comfort her-she beat her poor, lovely head against the wall. But that, so far, had been her one moment of weakness. Since then she had fought steadily, with a certain lofty cheerfulness, for the life she so desired to save. The horror of the second operation had been spared her; but only because it might but too probably hasten, rather than retard, the appro

e and sombre. The corners of her mouth turned down and her under-lip quivered now and then, giving her expression a childlike piteousness of appeal. There was no trace of disorder in her appearance. Her white dressing-gown and all its pretty ribbons and laces were

r evenings ago. Again she seemed to hear the short peremptory tones of the surgeons, and those worse things-the stifled groan of one in the extremity of physical anguish, and the grate of a saw. These maddened her with pity, almost with rage. She feared that now, as then, she might lose her self-mastery and do some wild and desperate thing. She tried to keep her attention fixed on the quick irregular rise and fall of the linen sheet expressing the broa

merable army of hurrying sparks up the wide chimney. All the mouldings of the ceiling-all the crossing bars and sinuous lines of the richly-worked pattern, all the depending bosses and roses of it, all the foliations of the deep cornice-sprang into bold relief, outlined

d his eyes. For a few seconds his glance wavered in vague distress and perplexity. Then as fuller consciousness return

ed, "it takes a long time, does

and for action came she grew calm and sane. The ceili

dearest?" she aske

eems to sink away from me, and I float right out. It'

quate weapons are all-even the most gallant-reduced to fighting death at the last! Here, on the one hand, a half wine-glass of champagne in a china feeding-cup, with a teapot-like spout to it, or a few spoonfuls of jelly, backed by the passion of a woman's heart. And, on the o

nt round to the farther side of the bed, and slipping her arm under the pillows gently raised Richard'

nage it," he said, drawing away

erine pe

ver mind how little-only try. Help me t

r once again, and his eyes and lips smil

," he said. "A little

few drops. But the greater part of the draught spilt out sideways, and would have d

Calmady, splendid fellow as he was, gifted, high-bred gentleman, should, of all men, come to this sorry pass! He was filled with impotent fury. And was it this pass, indeed, he asked himself, to which every human creature must needs come one day? Would he, Roger Ormiston, one day, find himself thus weak and broken; his body-now so lively a source of various enjoyment-degraded into a pest-house,

oice reached him, fee

y. The machinery won't work. Let me lie flat

ments of laboured b

ppoints you. We have just got to submit to

of them, would never get hold of it or draw Richard out from beneath the pounding hoofs. And then Ormiston went over his own share in the business again, lamenting, blaming himself. Yet what more natural, after all, than that he should have set his affections on the Clown? Chifney believed in the horse too-a five-year-old brother of Touchstone, resembling, in his bla

further forward, so that the foot of the bed might be out of sight, sat holding her husband's hand, softly caressing his wrist and palm with her finger-tips. Soon the slow movement of her fingers ceased, while she felt, in q

oftly under her breath,-"

ht, I'm

yes wide, as in

h, what's happen

own, kissed his h

he said, "at home, at

n the pillow so as to have a better view of her, spoke again:-"I was floating right out-the under-tow had got

therine cried, smitten with sudden contri

d wistfully. "Don't you suppose I would much rather stay here at

ying herself to and fro in t

th. It is not a small thing to have seen the sun, and to have rejoiced in one's youth. And

Katherine cried, a

tuous-I can't be much afraid of what is to follow. The best ar

she said. "If I could o

e bed, looked hard at her, spoke as

if you could-come through the deep sea of

anion to her that she would dare the most desperate adventures to rid herself of its hateful presence. Her reason and mora

he prayed. "I love you, I will n

et, and his grasp tightened somewhat dangerously upon her throat. Katherine

, "if you knew how deliciou

ard Calmady unclasped his hands and dropped back against the

en when one lies, as I do now, more than half dead." He turned his head away, and his voice shook. "Ten years he

lways have been to me," Katherine int

he grew curiously cold. She shivered, and had a difficulty in controling her speech. Her new companion, Sorr

ould have changed. No hour of day-or night-ah, my God! my God!-which I could ask to have ot

orse for me,"

ber that you are free, absolutely and unconditionally free. I ho

ed. Despair had

Don't you see that to be bound is t

," Richard Calma

d take a good deal of trouble on their behalf, that his present and final incapacity in any measure to shield even Katherine, the woman he worshipped, amazed him. Not pain, not bodily disfigurement,-though he recoiled, as every sane being must, from these,-not death itself, t

s and impertinent follies at Eton, over which he, and Roger and Major St. Quentin had laughed a hundred times. They amused him greatly even yet. But he could not linger with them. He was troubled about the attics of the new lodge, now in building at the entrance to the east woods. The windows were too small, and he disliked that blind north gable. There were letters to be answered too. Lord Fallowfeild wanted to know about something-he could not remember what-Fallowfeild's inquiries had a habit of being vague. And through all these things-serious or trivial-a terrible yearning over Katherine and her baby-the new, little, human life which

one standing beside her, whom he did not immediately recognise. It was Roger-Roger worn with watching, grown curiously older. But a certain exhilaration, born of that strange ride, remained by Richard Calmady. Both ache

l keep an eye on things, won't you, so that Kitty shall have no bother? I should like to know nothing was changed at the stables. They've been a great hobby of mine, and if-if the baby is a boy, he

or breath, then his han

n't you? I want there to be another Richard Calmady. My life h

ne was down on her knees, her right arm under his head, while with her lef

e cried, "come-tel

have explained, crossed the room, dragged back the he

morning air, laden with the soothing murmur of the fir forest swaying in the breath of a mild westerly breeze, laden too with the moist fragrance of the moorland, of dewy grass, of withered bracken and fallen leaves, flowed in also, cleansing the tainted atmosphere of the room.

ady opened h

led, and in pain. It is good to wake, and find you, and know I'm all right after all. God keep you, my dearest, you and the boy. I am longing to see him-but not just now-let Denny bring him later. And tell them to send Ch

uite naturally and

Richard a good boy. After all that is what matters most-

rine it seemed like the upward leap of a livid fl