The Wooden Horse

opening on to tossing sea and the sharp bend of the grey cli

a certain standard. His appreciations were wide and generous, and his knowledge was just now too superficial to permit of discerning criticism. The room, again, suffered from a rather effeminate prettiness. There were too many essentially trivial knick-knacks-some fans, silver ornaments, a charming little ebony clock, and a generous assortment of ga

rse of Swinburne before brushing his hair-not so much because of the Swinburne, but rather because one went down to dinner with a pleasant feeling of culture and education. To-night he was in a hurry. People had staye

nce on the importance of superficiality. It had been enforced while he was still in the cradle, when a desire to kick and fight had been always checked by the quiet reiteration that it was not a thing that a Trojan did. Temper was not a fault of itself, but an exhibition of it was; simply because self-control was a Trojan virtue. At his pri

n commoner, but he learnt at once the lesson of "Us-and the Others." If you were one of the others-if there was a hesit

s awfully clever, and, of course, Max's Caricatures were masterly. I'm not saying that he did not really admire these things-in many things his appreciation was genuine enough-but if it should happen that he cared for "The Christian" or "God's Good Man," he speedily smothered his admiration and wondered how he could be such a fool. To do him justice, he never had any doubt that those whose judgment he followed were absolutely right; but he followed them blindly, often praising books or pictures that he had never read or seen because it was the thing t

ied his mind: firstly, his father; in the second place,

t had all been noisy, unusual, even a little vulgar. But his behaviour at tea that afternoon had grieved Robin very much. How could he be so rude to the light and leading of Fallacy Street? It could only have been through ignorance; it could onl

after all; New Zealand must be a strange place on all accounts; but his father seemed to show no desire to im

g. Robin had met Dahlia Feverel in the summer of the preceding year at Cambridge. He had thought her extremely beautiful and very fa

nately, chiefly because he saw her very seldom. When he went down at the end of the summer term he felt that she was the only thing in the world worth living for. He became Byronic, scowled at Aunt Clare, and treated Garrett's cynicism with contempt. He wrote letters t

ounced them "commonly vulgar." The mother was more in evidence than she had been at Cambridge, and Robin passed from dislike to horror and from horror to hatred. Dahlia, too, seemed to have changed. Robin had loved her too passionately hitherto to think of the great Division. But soo

ournfully continuous Patience, were less and less frequent. He was determined to break the matter off; it haunted his dreams, it troubled him all day; he was forced to keep his acquaintanceship with them secret, a

ught often enough of what he would say-words that had served others many times before in similar situations. He would refer to their youth, the affair should be a midsummer episode,

e was not quite sure what she would do-cry probably, and remonstr

eir leaves stood out against the grey pearl light of the sky. As he passed into the principal street of Pendragon, Robin drew his coat closer about him, like some ancient conspirator. He had no wish to be stopped by an inquisitive friend; his destination demanded secrecy. Soon the lights and asphalt of the High Street gave place to dark, twisting paths and cobbled stones. These obscure and narrow ways were rather pathetic survivals of the old Pendragon. At night they had an almost sinister appearance; the lamps were at very long intervals and the old hous

and some one was playing the piano. Robin hesitated for some minutes before ringing the bell. When it had rung he heard the piano stop. For a few seconds there was no sound; then there

nraptured at the foot of the stairs, deeming it Paradise. Now the lamp in the hall flared with the wind from the door, and he was acutely conscious of a large rent in the dirty, faded carpet. The house was p

and, above all, dusty, drooping paper flowers in bright china vases ranged in a row by the window. Of course, it might be merely the lodgings. Lodgings always were like that-but to live with them for months! To attempt no change, to leave th

sure, as he stood by the window waiting. It mig

nd stood there for a mome

ame words that his aunt had used to his father last night, he rememb

ut being in time; then, as she seemed t

n waves over her temples. She affected a rather simple, aesthetic manner that suited her dark eyes and rather pale complexion. You said that she was intense until you knew her. To-night she wore

humble dependants at last!" she said, laughing. "A

really been too terribly busy. The Govern

er weighed on him heavily. He could hardly believe that there had ever been

id Dahlia. "But now you are here I won't scold you if you

on't know-the usual sort of thing, I suppos

; "I fancied-of course it was silly of me-that perhaps there was some one else-that you were getting a little tired of me. I was-very unhappy. I nearly wrote, but I was afraid

not far away, and she spoke in little short sent

at was in his mind? If it was really so much to her he could

elt very sorry indeed. How blank her days would be without him! Part of the romance had always been his r?le of King Cophetua, and t

n the evening with nothing to do and no one to talk to, one hears it so plainly-it is almost frightening. You know, Robi

and fastened on his sleeve; their heads were very c

when he told her what was in his mind. She might even get very ill-he had read of broken hearts often enough; and she was extraor

r voice was a deep bass. She said very little, but sat down silently by the window, forming, as she always did, a dark and extremely solid backgrou

ein's duets after dinner, and I've got a new song that I've been learning especially for you. And then there's your father; I do want to hear all about him so much-he must be so interesting, coming from New Zealand. Moth

as though to refer gently to

k shadow in the win

difficult-he doesn't seem to know what to do and say. I suppose it'

ed vaguely why Dahlia had been so interested; why should she care, unless, and the i

ugh him most thoroughly and clearly. He felt ridiculously like a captive, and his doubts as to his immediate escape increased. The gaudy drawing-room, the dingy stairs, the gas hissing in the hall, had been, in all co

mpts at coquettish gaiety frightened him. The conversation, supported mainly by Dahlia, fell into terrible lapses, and the attempts to start it again had the unhappy air of desperate remedies doomed to failure. Dahlia's pathetic gla

he shape of some melancholy oranges and one very attenuated banan

ridiculous figure. He sat down again and beat a tattoo on the tablecloth. Mrs. Feverel, with some grimly muttered excuse, left the room. She w

it?" she said. "

aid gloomily. "

ht-I don't know. I've been very patient all this time-waiting for you-hoping that you would come-longing for you-and you never came-all these many weeks. Then I thought th

did feel an awful cad-he hadn't thought that she would really care so much as th

h his foot, tried to speak with dignity as well as

-we've had a ripping time-but I'm not sure-one can't be certain-that it's best for it to go on-quite like this. You see, old girl, it's so da

ed for a

at I'm not g

got up from his chair and turned round and faced her, leaning with his hands on the

You're good enough for any one, but I'm not quite sure, dear, whether we'd be quite the people to marry! We'd be splendid friends, of course-we'll always

quickly. "I know well enough. Some

t his pride. "As if I'd be weak enough to let that

ough for you-that we'd soil your Trojan carpets and cha

kneeling by the table with her head in her a

d girl, to-morrow-it will really-and then you will see that it was wiser. You w

en all those splendid times at Cambridge. Don't you remember that evening on the Backs? Just you and I alone when there was that man singing o

ttle dishevelled. But his resolution must not weaken-now that he had

then. I don't want to seem selfish, but you must think about me a little. You must see how hard it has been for me to say this, and that it

much-those letters of his had been rather too warm, a little indiscreet. But no doubt she would marry some excellent man of her own class-in a few years she w

her waist, and now she suddenly l

is. Why, think of the times that we have had-the splendid, glorious times-and all t

g you that it's foolish. But that mustn't make any difference. We're strong enough to face all the world. You know that yo

re too young to know, and besides, it would be absurd anyway. I know it's bad luck on you. Perhaps I said rather too much in the summer. But of course we'll

mean it,

ds clenched; her face was white a

e said. "I think it

f what people will say. If you don't love me, you're tied to me, over and over again. You've made me promises-you made me love you-and now when your summer amusement is ove

en aback b

he stammered,

ike a common thief-pretended to love me, promised to marry me, and now-now-Oh! unfair! yes, always for the man, never for the

d in her hands, sobbing as though her heart

ought, that none of his friends could see him), "it's no use your taking it like this. I had better go-we c

e another attempt and put her han

don't know what it means to me. You are taking everything from me-when you rob a girl of her love, of her heart, you leave her nothing. If you go now, I don

ou are excited to-night. You exaggerate. You will meet a man mu

the door a

he did not realise it; it seemed to her still as though he would come back in a moment and put his arms round her and tell her that it was all a game-just to see if she had really cared. But the silence of the street and the house was terrible. It choked her, and she pulled at her frock to loosen the tightness about her thro

he had, indeed, never really cared for her. That was it-he had never cared for her-all those things that he had promised in the su

hands against her forehead as though she would drive into her brain the fact

d Mrs. Feverel stole in.

r as though she

e did nothing. Only it's all over-

only just been borne in upon her, she sat down at

You know I told you, only you wouldn't listen. Lord! it was plain en

," she said. "I wasn't good enough-he said-not good enough. His p

face all that she had given him. Injured pride was at work now, and for a moment she hated him so that she could have ki

mother," she said. "I

ittle as she tur

rs. Feverel, "ther

had scarc

ters?" s

he summer. You have

ly. She only climbed hea