The Judgment House

pressions. He was not easily moved by vastness or splendour. His ducal grandfather's houses were palaces, the estates w

ce which "hit you in the eye," as he had put it to himself. He asked himself why Byng had not been content to buy one of the great mansions which could always be had in London for a price, where time had softened all the outlines, had given that subdued harmony in architecture which only belongs to age. Byng could not buy

is artistic sense. It was a big building, severely simple in design, yet with the rich grace, spacious solidity,

nse!" he said to himself. "It's the real thing; a

inside would, in the essentials, of course,

arently unstudied and delightful reticence was noticeable at once. The newness had been rubbed off the gold somehow, and the old furniture-Italian, Spani

and the hallways; and only in the insistent audacity and intemperate colouring of some Rubens pictures did he find anything of th

furniture was too careful, too much like the stage. He smiled at the sight of it, for he saw and knew that Jasmine had had his playful criticism of her occasionally flamboyant taste in mind, and that she had over-revised, as it were. She had, like a literary artist, polished and refined and stippled the effect, till something of personal touch had gone, and there remained

ith that paper so dear to every lover of literature. Instinctively he picked them up one by one, and most of them were affectionately marked by marginal notes of criticism, approval, or reference; and all showing the eager, ardent mind of one who loved books. He noticed, however, that most of the books he had seen before, and some of them he had read with her in the days which were gone forever. I

the poise of the intellectual head-the type of a perfect, well-bred animal, with the accomplishment of a man of purpose and executive design. A

on him, and was piqued to observe that he who had in that far past always swept her with an admiring, discriminating, and deferential glance, now only gave her deference of a courteous but perfunctory kind. It made the note to all she said and did that even

ing that mad streak which was in her grandfather, who had had many a combat, the outcome of wild elements of passion in him. She was not happy; she had never been happy since she married Rudyard Byng

eyes had turned always when she wanted a consoling hour. He belonged to her realm of the imagination, of thought, of insight, of intellectual passions and the desires of the soul. Far above any physical attraction Ian had ever possessed for her was the deep conviction that he gave her mind what no one else gave it, that he was the being who knew the song her spirit sang.... He should not go forever fr

rom quarters of unusual distinction, that the finest sense of her was blunted, and true proportions were lost. Rudyard ought never to have made that five months' visit to South Af

here would have been no fighting at all, that all the forces contending against her purity and devotion would never have gathered at her feet and w

ss, or sympathy, so often without intended unscrupulousness at first. She had escaped the suspicion, if not the censure, of the world-or so she thought; and in the main she was right. But she was now embarked on an enterprise wh

n and cheerily greeted Stafford, apologizing for hav

d all that kind of thing.... Glad to see you looking so well, Stafford," he continued. "They say you are the coming man. Well, a

Stafford to himself. "This life has told on him. The bronze

was radiant, amusing, and stimulating in her old way. She had never seemed to him so much a mistress of delicate satire and allusiveness. He rose to the combat with an ala

nged. Books brought the new current; and soon she had him moving almost unconsciously among old scenes, recalling old contests of ideas, and venturing on bold reproductions of past intellectual ideals. But though they were in this dangerous fiel

ll, but much ag

o now

ery

the sad road l

to East,

ll no

ope, it is so

mile of quiet enjoyment, sa

what their story was-a hopeless love, of course. An af

much since you went away-in

ive it. In penal servitude it is centuries, in the Appian Way of pleasur

is going to strike," she said. As she spoke, the little silver hammer softly st

ith a gallantry so intentionally obvious and

naged the dinner-hour so exactly.

e. It was eight o'clock when I arrived-by the world's t

at you are in heaven?"

e as that. All ext

place-then you a

come with a drop of water to cool the tongue of Dives?" His

d with great effort to still the raging tumult w

of her; and he had taught her more than any one else in the world. She realized that she had "Tossed him violently like a ball into a far country," and that she had not now a vestige of power over him-either of his senses or his mind; that he was m

cynical desire came over him to turn and clasp her in his arms, to press those lips which never but once he had kissed, and that was when she had plighted her secret troth to him, and had broken it for three million pounds. Why not? She was a woman, she was beautiful, she was a siren who had lured him and used him and tossed him by. Why not? All her art was now used, the art of the born coquette which had been exquisitely cultivated since she was a

capricious, unregulated in some ways, with the hereditary taint of a distorted moral sense, and yet able, intuitive and wise, in so many aspects of life and conversation. Looking, he determined that she should never hav

the refuge

ruit of a great temptation, meaning more to a woman, a hundred times, than to a man. For a man there is always present the chance of winning a vast fortune and t

ft of sl

ly the ri

s she drew away from him with a sense of hum

a moment before he spoke, and Stafford inwardly observed that here was an enemy to the young wife whose hatred was deep. He was conscious, too, that Jasmine realized the antipathy. Indeed, she had done so from the first days she had seen Krool, and had endeavoured, without success, to induce Byng to send the man back to South Africa, and to leave him there last year when

ford's servant is here. There is a girl for to see him, if

ncident the day before, adding that he had no idea of the reason for the visit; bu

to Krool, but Jasmine

ee her here?

and presently Krool show

the doctor says 'e can't live. 'E made yer a promise, and 'e wanted me to tell yer that 'e meant to keep it; but if so be as you'd come, and wouldn't mind a-comin', 'e'd tell yer himself. 'E made that free becos 'e had brekfis wiv y

icate oval, and her hair was a deep black, waving freely over a strong, broad forehead. It was her speech that betrayed her; otherwise she was little like the fl

n the hospital?

took in there. The doctor come, but 'e says it ain't no use. 'E didn't seem to care much

she remembered what Rudyard had said up-stairs three hours ago, that there wasn't a single person in the world to whom they had done an act which

do?" Jasmine sa

nt to have up a cab," he said to

ng, and Sunday-week for brekfis," she murmured. "You'll never miss the ti

said Jasmine to Stafford. "You must

'll see if it is as hopeless as she says. But you must not come to-night. To-morrow, ce

e girl passed out with Jasmine's kiss on he

the previous hours since they had met again. Nowhere, by all her art, had she herself touched him, or opened up in his nature one tiny stream of feeling; but this girl's story and this piteous incident had

n, were sandwiched between social functions from which their lives were never free. They had ever passed from event to event like minor

piano in the corner where stood the statue of Andromeda, and began to play softly. Her fingers crept over the keys, playing snatches of things she knew years before, improvising soft, passionate little movements. She took no note of time. At last the clock

wilight of the

to me, beaut

it, that messa

have filled

sent thee puls

t a nest

fled-it

ek i

forgott

se in passionate pain, and die

piano in front of her and

was doomed from the beginning. I always felt it so-always, even when things were brightest. I am the child of blac

rink it, when her ear became attracted by a noise without, a curious stumbling, shuffling sound. She put down the glass, went to the door that opened into the hall, and looked out and down. One light was still bu

he way we do i

band begi

n the table and o

and begins

he was drunk-almos

er she turned back to her sitting-room. Throwing herself on the divan where she