Innocent : her fancy and his fact

fe had gone to another similar "crush," but had graciously excused his attendance, for which he was honestly grateful. He was old enough, at sixty-eight, to appreciate the luxu

had been a great student,-he had read nearly every book of note, and was as familiar with the greatest authors as with his greatest friends, so that he was well fitted to judge without prejudice the merits of any new aspirant to literary fame. But he was wholly unprepared for the power and the daring genius which stamped itself on every page of the new writer's work,-he almost forgot, while reading, whether it was man or woman

nd perfectly natural,-nothing of the blue-stocking about her. Well, well! What a career she'll make!-what a name!-that is, if she takes care of herself and doesn't fall in love, which she

y young-when heart and sentiment had very nearly overthrown reason in his own ca

erything else!" he mused-"But-for the

uck twelve with a silvery clang, and almost at the same instant he heard the rus

she enquired-"

tely old-fashioned co

in!" he said-"You h

on the back of the chair in which she seated herself-"It was a boresome affair,

ed the volume on the

amazing book by the y

Ena Armitage. It's real

as si

-"Yet she seemed a charming, modest little perso

gave a sudde

nly was not what I expecte

look and manner

rather stiffly. "One would think we w

ously-"We never do. We are model husban

aid down for a minute, and with car

ed, quietly-"Pray go on, and don't let me

n the

looked at her expectantly,-she meanwhile reclined in a cushioned chair with

ing in the social life of our day wo

d, smiling coldly-"I have lived a lo

concerned some

itself in a momentary lin

sorry to hear anything of a scandalous nature connected with th

aughed that harsh laugh of suppressed hyst

ut to speak of her, as you said

he haggard and desperate

ions about truth and honour and all that sort of thing. I don't believ

in that child?

impatient, a

as you call her!" she answered-"You had better know

ghter?-yo

y as though under a sudden physical blow, and g

ered-"What do you mean?-y

-but by love and passion-yes! Stop!-do not look at me like that! I have not been false to you-I have n

rigid and

e you

s left in the charge of one of my mother's society friends-a thoroughly worldly, unprincipled wo

e Armi

from him like

rmitage. Did

eyes in which there

He was my b

ers, and a slight weary

e way of his art and work, and ran away with me. I went quite willingly-I took a maid whom we bribed,-we pretended we were married, and we had a charming time together-a time of real romance, till he began to

echoed the words in a kin

affair, said nothing about it,-wisely enough for her own sake!-so that when my time came I was able to go away on an easy pretext and get it all over secretly. Pierce came and stayed in a hotel close at hand-he was rather in a fright lest I should die!-it would have been such an awkward business for him!-however, all went well,

rd Blythe, slowly-"He di

r friend Armitage killed it in me. Anyhow, I knew the child had been adopted by the farm people as their own, and I took no further trouble. My parents came home from

rom him, but h

n I heard by chance that the old farmer who had taken care of the child was dead, I made up my mind to go an

tle from his statuesque

er you were

d

' your own child?" She

g to do! One cannot m

he ref

ref

r it," said Lord

at him. He went on in c

compensation you have received?-the s

and unclasped th

n uncommon name, and I did not connect i

wear it, and would make it legal," said Lord Blythe sternly-"Out of old memory I can say that for him

rself saw that I was rather taken aback,-it wa

poor child!-what an ordeal for her! You can hardly have felt it so keenly, being seasoned to hypocris

ily surprised-but-I was thinking of others.-it did not occur to me that-that my own wife-" he paused, steadying his voice,-then continued-"that my own wife's honour was involved in the matter-" he paused again. "Sentiment is of course out of place-nobody is supposed to feel anything nowadays-or to suffer-or to break one's heart, as the phrase goes,-that would be considered abnormal

hered her ermine cloak about

you see clearly that it is impossible we can live together un

up, pale

all these years, am to be disgraced because I have at last confid

choked by a rising

might have looked at

you please of my prolonged absence. If I could be of any use or protection to the girl I saw last night-the daughter of my friend Pierce Armitage-I would stay, but circumstances render any such service f

to her full heigh

orgive me, th

hudd

world-your lack of womanliness-motherliness!-your deliberate refusal to give Pierce Armitage the chance of righting the wrong he had committed in a headstrong, heart-strong rush of thoughtless passion!-he WOULD have righted it, I know, and been a loyal husband to you, and a good father to his child. For whatever his faults were he was neither callous nor brutal. You prevented him from doing this,-you were tired of him-your so-called 'love' for him was a mere selfish capri

stood, loo

done?" s

fixed gaz

ar as I am concerned the incident is closed.

ived in their days!-you are so terribly behind the times!" She laughed recklessly again. "We don't do the Marius and Carthage business now-life's too full and too short! Really, Richard, I'm afraid you're getting very old!-poor dear!-past sixty I know!-and you're quite prehistoric in some of your fancies!-'Good-night!'-er-'and farewell!' Sounds so stagey, doesn't it!" She wiped the spasm

sion of satins, laces and glittering jewels-and opening the door with some noise and emphasis, she turne

well!" she said a

re and devotion of the wife he had undemonstratively but most tenderly loved, he was suddenly cast adrift like the hulk of an old battleship broken from its moorings, with nothing but solitude and darkness closing in upon his latter days. Then he thought of the girl,-his wife's child-the child too of his college chum and dearest friend,-he saw,

her to know that I have heard all her sad little history-then-if she ever wan

drooped,-he had longed for chil

eated, slowly-"I should be a prou

was silent. Imagining that he probably would not sleep he placed a book near his bedside-but nature was kind to his age and temperament, and after abou

he ought to have been wide awake, though it was long past midnight,-and dismissing the girl at last, she sat

that girl at every big society function-I don't know what I shall do about it! Why didn't she stay in her old farm-house!-who could ever have imagined her becoming famous! I shall go abroad, I think-that will be the best thing to do. If Blythe leaves

er as in another Eden,-she remembered how he would hurry up from the shore bringing with him the sketch he had been working at, eager for her eyes to look at it, thrilling at her praise, and pourin

e child-it clung to me and I kiss

rvously-the room seemed

"I am worried and out of sor

r dressing-table a case of med

with a pale, forced smile at herself in the mirror-"I

**

**

*

r. Doctors, hastily summoned, did their best to rouse her to that life which with all its

?" whisp

veronal-some carelessness-quite a co

nge stillness which we call death,-and her husband, a statuesqu

red to the heavy silenc