JANET:

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VII, Issue 10, 7 March 1891, Page 4

JANET:

Thia serial commenced in the ‘ Graphic ’ an November 15. Back numbers may be obtained.

THE STORY OF A GOVERNESS.

By

MRS. OLIPHANT,

Author of ‘Laird of Worlaw.' ‘Aimes.'

B CHAPTER LXI. HE policeman’s epigrammatic assertion that it was difficult for a known man to struggle with the police is still more true when it is only a door which stands before a couple of men, excited and exasperated oy failure and a probable discovery. The door was a strong door, it was partially plated with iron, and its lock was cunningly devised; but after a while it began to give way. Meredith, altogether absorbed in this new turn of affairs, and carried away by the prospect which it opened to him, as well as to its assailants, seemed to the bystanders to have altogether gone over to the enemy. He stood by them, encouraging them in a low tone, suggesting how to strike, examining into the weak points with the keenest critical eye ; in fact, in the excitement of the moment, forgetting all his precautions and pretence of indifference, and throwing on the side of the assailants. He had, it is true, the safe ground to fall back upon, that as he had always been assured theie was nothing there, he could do no possible harm in helping to prove that to the men who would not be convinced in any other way. Mrs Harwood sat with her face to the door, her arms crossed upon her breast, her whole frame swaying and moving with the strokes that rained upon it. When a crash came she shivered and shrank into herself as if the blow had struck her—a low moan came involuntarily to her lips. Gussy, who had abandoned Meredith after trying in vain to recall him, came and stood by her mother’s chair, with a hand upon her shoulder, trying to restrain her. ‘Oh, mamma, for God’s sake,’ said Gussy in her ear, ‘don’t! Don’t let them see that you mind it so.’ The mother half turned to her a face which was livid in its terror. Her eyes, so clear usually, had lost their colour even, and seemed to float in a sort of liquefication, the iris disappearing into the watery blank globe, her mouth being open. She uttered a murmur of inarticulate passion, and made as though she would have struck the soothing hand. But the men at this exciting work took no notice of Mrs Harwood. The officer of the law was more fit to break down a resisting door than to draw subtle deductions from the looks of the besieged family. The practical matter was within his sphere. He only looked round with an exclamation of triumph when the door at last burst from its holdings, and the dark passage gaped open before them with its curtains drawn back. * There !’ he shouted, turning back for a moment, ‘ there’s your door that never was used,’ and would have dashed in had not his attendant held him back. ‘ I say,’ said the man who had hitherto followed him like a shadow, ‘ how ■do you know that he hasn’t got a revolver up there !’ The detective fell back for a moment. ‘ You’ve got to risk it,’ he said with the professional stoicism of a man bound to meet danger at any time. He was not of much use in scenting out a mystery, but he could face a possible revolver with the stolid courage of his class. He made a pause, however, and added with a raw effort of reflection, ‘ And this one’s new to it; he’s not up to their dodges— ’ They were the criminal class with which a straightforwai d policeman is accustomed to deal. Meredith followed with an excitement which made him forget everything, even the group of women bewildered in the hall. He knew his way, though he dared not show it. He followed the burly figure, and the smaller ill-trained one -of the attendant informer and witness, as they wound themselves up in the curtainsand came to a pause opposite every obstacle. The passage was perfectly dark, but the inner doors were not closed, notwithstanding the sounds of assault which those within must have heard. It turned out that the only individnal within who had his wits about him had been too closely occupied to be able to look to those means ■of defence.

For a moment the group of the ladies below bung together in bewildered horror. Then Julia launched herself after the men into the dark passage, drawn by inextinguishable curiosity and the excitement of a child in sight of the unknown. Mrs Harwood had covered her face with her hands, and lay back in her chair, fallen upon herself like a fallen house, lying, so to speak, in ruins. Gussy, with her arm round her mother’s shoulders, whispered, with tears and a little gasping, frightened crying, some words that were intended to be consolatory in her inattentive ears. ‘ It is nothing wrong,’ Gussy said ; ‘it is nothing wrong. It was to save him. It is nothing wrong.* But by and by the strong attraction of that open way along which the unseen party were stumbling seized upon her also. And her patient, who had to be taken care of—who was throwing himself back ! Gussy cast a piteous glance upon her mother, lying there with her face in lier hands, paying no attention, whatever comfort might be poured into her ear, and presently impatience got the better of her sympathy, and she, too, followed in the train. She knew the secret of the wing. She was the only other in the house, except Mrs Harwood, to whom the secret was known. But in how soft and simple a way. She was troubled, but she had no sense of guilt; and Gussy said to herself that it was her duty to go and explain, to make it known to the others how simple it all was, when the fascination became too much for her to resist, and. with one glance at her mother, she too stole away. As for Dolff, he had disappeared from their minds, and the incredible suspicion attached to him, as if he had never been born. From the moment that the search began it had been to Mrs Harwood a search for her secret and nothing more.

Janet had been all this time hanging about unseen. She could not rest, she who knew so much more than anyone else inthe house—both the mystery of the wing ana the single miserable story of Dolff and his guilt, both of them —as nobody else did, neither Mrs Harwood, whose thoughts were concentrated upon one, nor Meredith, who had discovered that and divined the other, but did not know as Janet did, who knew everything, what had been the cause of DolflTs terrible tolly, and what its results, and even when and how he hail disappeared. She had been hanging about, now in one room, now in another, terrified to show herself, incapable of concealing herself, her very terror of being mixed up in it yielding to the fellow-feeling of a general misery in which she had but her share, and that not so great a share as the others. When she saw that the mother of the house) who was the most to be pitied of all in this dreadful emergency, was left there forlorn and alone, lying helpless, unable to go after the others, to confront the catastrophe, at least, as her children could, Janet’s heart was touched. She stole down the stairs where she had been watching, looking down upon them all, and came to Mrs Harwood’s side. It was not for her to console or comfort. Janet was aware that she had been more or less the cause of all the trouble. She bad found out the family secret, without in the least understanding it, and this was no blame of hers ; but she had betrayed it to one who did understand it, and who might, for all phe knew, use his knowledge unmercifully, being, as she knew him to be, a man with very little ruth or inclination to spare another. And she had been, without any doubt, the cause of Dolff s misfortune in every step. She had taken him into her toils innocently enough, with no more guiltiness than that of any other girl who had let a foolish young man fall in love with her, and then had driven him mad by her falsehood, and him into crime—almost to the crime of murder. All this was in Janet's mind as she stole down the stairs to his mother’s side. She had plenty of excuse for herself had anyone accused her, but in her heart she was impartial, and knew very well how much she was to blame. Her heart beat loudly in consonance with the sounds of that exploring party in the dark passage, going to find out—how much more than they sought! She understood it all better than anyone. Meredith’s keen satisfaction in unveiling the mystery, and the stupid astonishment of the strangers, who had no suspicion, and Gussy But what Gussy would feel was the one thing that Janet did not divine, for she was unaware how much or how little Gussy knew. She stood by the chair in which Mrs Harwood lay, all sunken upon herself like a fallen tower, her face hidden, her shoulders drawn together, sinking to her knees. Janet dared not say anything. She put her hand upon the arm of her chair, not even upon the unhappy lady’s arm, which she felt that she dared not touch, and stood by her. It was all anyone could do. The two were left there like a wreck on the shore, from which everything had ebbed away, even the tumult and the storm which had been raging round. The sounds went on getting fainter, the voices dropped, the footsteps seemed to mount and then grow still, stumbling at first a little, gradually dying out. Mrs Harwood did not move, nor did Janet, standing by her, scarcely breathing. Were they both following, in imagination, the darkling way ■which both knew, or had the mother, at last, fallen into a blind insensibility, hearing and knowing no more ? This imagination was, however, suddenly put an end to by a moaning from the chair, * I can’t bear this anv longer ; I can’t bear this !’ said Mrs Harwood. ‘ Oh, my God ! my God ! Have they got there ’’ Then she cried loudly, ‘ I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it ;’ and, with a sudden wrench, as if she were tearing herself like s limb from its socket, the disabled woman rose. Janet, terrified, gave a cry of dismay as, stumbling and tottering, she flung herself out of the chair. Whether Mrs Harwood had been aware of her presence before this she could not tell; but, at all events, now she was beyond all sentiment of displeasure or reproof. She put out her shaking band and grasped at Janet’s arm as if it had been a post. The girl’s slight figure swayed and almost gave way at the sudden weight flung upon it; but the burden steadied her after the first moment’s uncertainty. Mrs Harwood’s face bad collapsed with the extreme anguish of the crisis past; her features seemed blurred, like the half liquid, vaguely floating eyes, which did not seem to see anything. She made a heavy, uncertain step forward, carrying her prop with her by mere momentum of weight and weakness. ‘ Come,’ she said hoarsely, ‘come !’ Janet never knew how those dark passages were got through. She was herself enfolded, carried away in the bearing of the helpless woman who leaned upon her guidance for every step. Their progress was wildly devious and uneven, every step being a sort of falling forward, which nevertheless carried them on with spasmodic rapidity, though terrible effort. The voices and steps in front of them grew audible again, but before they reached the door, which stood open with curtains drawn aside, disclosing a warm blaze of light, there arose a sudden tumult, a roar as of some wild creature, with answering cries of panic and dismay. The opened doorway suddenly darkened with a crowd of retreating figures, ana Julia darted out from the midst and came blindly flying upon the tottering group that was struggling forward. ‘Go back, go back !’ cried Julia, ‘ whoever you are. There’s a madman there !’ And then she gave a shriek as wild as the sounds that came from the room. ‘ Oh,’ cried the girl, her shrill voice dominating even that riot, ‘ it’s mamma 1 My mother’s here !’ CHAPTER XLII. Next moment they had surged as on the top of a wave to the room within. Nothing could be more strange than the scene presented there. The room was curtained all round with red, hung above a man’s height with the ruddy thick folds, upon which the firelight threw a still warmer flicker. A shaded lamp filled it with softened light, and from above, from what seemed a large skylight, a white stream of moonlight fell in, making a curious disturbing effect in the warm artificial light. These accessories, however, though they told afterwards, were as nothing to the sight that burst upon the eyes of the new comers. In the centre of the room stood a tall old man, with a long pallid face, straggling white hair, and a white beard. His face was distorted with excitement, his voice bellowing forth a succession of cries, or rather roars, like the roars of a wild animal. His loose lips gave forth these utterances with flying foam and a sort of mechanical rapidity : ‘ I know what you’ve come for 1 I can pay up ! I can pay up! I’ve plenty of money, and I can pay up ! But I won’t be taken, not if it costs me my

life !’ These were the words that finally emancipated themselves from the stammering utterance and became clear.

Vicars stood behind this wild figure holding both his arms, but it was only by glimpses that the smaller man was visible holding the other as in a vice. * Come, sir, come, sir, no more of this, they’ll take you for a fool,’ he said. And then this King Lear resumed. The foam flew from his lips ; his great voice came out in its wild bellowing, the very voice which Janet had heard so often. It had seemed to her to utter but an inarticulate cry, but this, it would seem, was what it had been saying all the time—words in which there were some meaning—though what that meaning was, or whether the speaker himself understood it, who would say ? The policeman and his attendant had edged towards the doorway, and stood there huddled upon one another. The leader of the search had been willing to face a revolver, but the madman was a thing for which he was not prepared. He stood against the doorway ready to retreat still further in case there should be any further advance. Meredith and Gussy had passed into the room, and stood together, she very anxious, he very eager at the side, where his wild eyes had not caught them. Behind was Dolff very pale, standing half concealed by the group formed by the madman and his attendant, raising his head to look over them to the two in the doorway who had come to look for him, and had received so unexpected a check. Mrs Harwood stumbled into the midst of this strange scene with her tottering uncertain stride, driving Janet with her. She put up her hand to hold back the dreadful insane figure. She was at one of the moments in life when one is afraid of nothing—shrinks from nothing. ‘ Take him back to his seat. Vicars, she said, ‘ take him back. Adolphus !’ The tottering, helpless woman stood up straight, and put her hand upon the madman's breast. The eyes that had been blind with misery changed and dissolved as if to dew in their orbits, consolidated again, opened blue and strong like a relighted flame. She fixed them upon the staring red eyes of the maniac. ‘ Adolphus, go back, be silent, calm yourself. There is no need for you to say anything. lam here to take care of you. Let Vicars put you back in your chair.’ ‘ I will not be taken,’ he said, ‘ I will not be taken. I can pay up. I have got money, plenty of money. I will pay up-’ ‘ Viears,’ cried Mrs Harwood, imperiously, ‘ put him back in his chair.’ She held her hand on his breast, and fixed her eyes upon his, pushing him softly back. The roarings grew fainter, fell into a kind of whimpering cry. ‘ I’ll pay it all—l have plenty of money. Don’t kt them take me away—l’ll pay everything up.’ ‘Go back and rest in your chair, Adolphus. Put him in his chair.’

The astonished spectators all stood looking on while the old servant and this woman, whom force of necessity had moved from her own helplessness, subdued the maniac. Vicars had partially lost his head, he had lost control of his patient, but this unlooked-for help restored him to himself. Between them they drew and guided the patient back to the chair, which was fitted with some mechanical appliances, and held him fast. Mrs Harwood seemed to forget her weakness entirely ; she tottered no longer, but moved with a free step. She turned round upon the frightened policeman at the door : * Now go,’ she said, ‘ you have done your worst; whatever you want, go ; vou can get no satisfaction here.’ The intruder breathed more freely when he saw the madman sink into quietude. He said with a voice that quivered slightly, ‘ I am very willing to go, but that young gentleman has to come along with me !’ ‘ Come on,’ cried the attendant, whose teeth were chattering in his head. ‘ Come on ; we can stay no longer here. ’ ‘ I’m going when that young gentleman makes up his mind to go with me. ’ ‘ What young gentleman ’ Why, bless you, that ain’t the young gentleman,’ said the man who had struggled out into the passage, and was now only kept from running by the other’s strong retaining grasp. It was not wonderful that the policeman was indignant. He let his friend go with an oath, and with a sudden push which precipitated him into the outer room. • You d d fool ! to have led me such a dance; and as much as our lives are worth, and come to nothing at the end.’ The man fell backward, but got up again in a moment and took to his heels, with the noise as of a runaway horse in the dark passage. The policeman, reassured to see that the madman was secured, had the courage to linger a moment. He turned to Meredith with a defiant look. ‘lt has come to nothing, sir, and I ask your pardon that I’ve been led into giving you this trouble by an ass. But I make bold to ask is this house licensed ? and what right has anyone got to keep a dangerous madman in it without inspection, or any eye over ’ini ? I’ll have to report it to my superior. ’ * Report it to the—devil, and be off with you,’ Meredith said. The party stood round staring into each other’s faces, when the strangers then withdrew. The madman struggled against the fastenings that secured him. ‘Julia,’ he said, ‘ don’t let them take me !’ He tried to get hold of her with his hands, feeling for her as if he did not see, and began to cry feebly, in a childish, broken voice, ‘ Don’t let them take me. I have got enough to pay everybody. I kept it for you and the children. It was tor you and the children ; but I’ll pay up, I’ll pay everybody ; only don’t let them take me, don’t let them take me,’ he whimpered, tears, piteous, childish tears suffusing the venerable face. ‘ Oh,’ cried Gussy, ‘ don’t let him cry ; for God’s sake don’t let him cry. I cannot bear it —I cannot bear it—it is too much.’ ‘l’ll never complain any more,’ said the patient; ‘l’m very comfortable, I don’t want for anything. You shall pay them all up yourself if you don’t believe me. I’ll give you the money, the money—only don’t let them semi me away. I’ve got it all safe here,’ he said. ‘ Stop a moment, I’ll give it you, and all these ladies and gentlemen can prove it that I gave it you to pay up. ’ He struggled to get his arms free, trying to reach his breast pocket with one hand. ‘ Vicars, get it out, and give it to your mistress. The money—the money, you know, to pay everybody up. Only, he cried, putting the piteous hands together which were held fast and could do so little, ‘don’t, Julia; don’t let them take me away.’ ‘ Oh, mamma,’ cried Gussy, ‘ I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it.’ She fell on her knees, and covered her face.

* Who is he ? said Dolff. They had all of them, and even Dolff himself, forgotten what was the cause of this revelation. The young man came forward, very pale. * I know nothing about, this,’he said, looking round; ‘nothing. I hope everybody will believe me. I want to know who he is !’ No one said a word. They all stood round, struck silent, not knowing what to think. Mrs Harwood stood with her hand upon the table, supporting herself, yet asking no other support. She was perfectly pale, but her countenance had recovered its features and expression. She did not even look at her children, one on her knees, one standing up confronting her, demanding to know the truth. To neither of them did she give a word or look. Her eyes were fixed upon the man who was thus utterly in her hands. Vicars extracted an old, large pocket-book from the pocket of the patient, and handed it to her, not without a sort of smile—-half-mocking —on his face. She took it, and, glancing at it with a certain disdain, as if a trick often employed but no longer necessary had disgusted her, Hung it on the table. * There are in this book,’ she said, * old scraps of paper of no value. This is what I am to pay his debts with. He has given it to me twenty times before. I get tired in the end of playing the old game over and over. ’ * Mother, who is he?’ cried Dolff. ‘ You have had him in your house in secret, never seeing the light of day, and I your son never knew. Who is he?’ Mrs Harwood made no reply. It was a question to which no one there could give any answer, except perhaps Gussy on her knees, with her hands covering her face, who did not look up or give any attention to what was going on. Meredith alone seemed to have some clear idea in his mind ; his face shone with aroused interest and eagerness, like a man on the very trace of knowledge ofthe utmost importance to him. A rapid process of thought was going on in his mind, his intelligence was leaping from point to point. ‘ You; will perhaps be surprised,’ he said, ‘to hear that I have known this for some time.’

‘ You !’ Mrs Harwood half turned to him, a glance as of fire passing over her face. ‘You !’ ‘ Yes, I who have several interests involved. I had just received certain information on the subject when that young fool, thinking heaven knows what other folly, knocked me down, taking me at unawares, and nearly killed me. Oh, yes, it is perfectly true it was Dolff who did it. You start as if I was likely to make any fuss on that subject. Is it true that he had the money to pay everybody ?—that is what I want to know.’

* Charley, Charley, do you mean to say that Dolff ’ ‘ Oh, I mean nothing about Dolff,’ he said, impatiently ; ■“ answer me, Mrs Harwood.’ * I can’t answer for nothing, Mrs Harwood,’ cried Vicars, ‘if you keep a lot of folks round him. He is working himself up into a fury again.’ The madman was twisting in his chair, fighting against the mechanical bonds that secured him. He was looking towards the poeketbook which lay on the table. ‘ She has got my money, and she throws it down for anybody to pick up,’ he cried. ‘My money '. there’s money there to pay everything ! Why don’t you pay those people and let ’em go—pay them, pay them and let them go—or else give me back my money,’ he cried, wildly straining forward, with his white hair falling back, his reddened eyes blazing, struggling against his bonds. Mrs Harwood took up the pocketbook, and, weighing it, with a sort of forced laugh, in her hand—- * You think there may be a fortune here —enough to pay ? And he thinks so. Give it to him, Vicars. We’ve tried to keep it all quiet, but it seems we have failed. You may have the door open now—you may do as you please. It can’t matter any longer. I have thought of the credit of the family, and of many things that nobody else thinks of. And of his comfort. —nobody can say I have not thought ■of his comfort. Look round you, everything, everything we could think of. But it is all of no use. ’

The old man had caught the pocketbook from Vicars’ hands with a pitiful demonstration of joy. He made a pretence of examining its contents, eagerly turning them over as if to make sure that nothing was lost, kissing the covers in enthusiasm and delight. He made an attempt with his confined arms to return it to his pocket, but, failing in that, kept it embraced in both his hands, from time to time kissing it with extravagant satisfaction. ‘As long as I have got this they can do nothing to me,’ he said. While this pantomime was going on, and while still Mrs Harwood was speaking, a little movement and rustle in the group caught everybody’s attention as if it had been a new fact, but it was only Janet stealing away behind the others who had a right there which she did not possess. She had been watching her moment. She herself, who had nothing to do with it, had received her share of discomfiture too. Her heart was sinking with humiliation and shame. What had she to do with the mysteries of the Harwoods, the things they might have to conceal ? What was she to them but a stranger of no account, never thought of, dragged into the midst of their troubles when it pleased them, thrown off again when they chose ? Nobody would have said that Janet had any share in this crisis, and yet it was she who had received the sharpest arrow of all; or so, at least, she thought. She slipped behind Julia, who was bigger and more prominent than she, and stole through the bewildering stairs and passages. How well she seemed to know the way, as if it had been familiar to her for years. And it was she who had given information—she who had been the cause of everything, drawn here and drawn there into affairs alike alien to her, with which she had nothing to do. They were all moved by her departure ; not morally, indeed, but by the mere stir it caused. Gussy rose from her knees, showing a countenance as pale as death and. still glistening with tears. She said, ‘ Mammaj'-shall we go away? Whatever there may be to be skid or explained, it ought not to be done here.’ She went up to the old man in the chair, who was still embracing his pocket-book, and kissed him on the forehead. ‘ If any wrong has been done to you, I don’t know of it,’ she said ; * I thought it was nothing but good.’ • No wrong has been done to him—none—none,’ cried Mrs Harwood, suddenly dropping from her self-command and strength. ‘ Children, you may not. believe me, since I’ve kept it secret from you. Theie has been no wrong to him—none—none. If there has been wrong it has not been to him. Oh, you may believe me at least, for I have never told you a lie. Everything has been done for him. Look ■round you—look round you and you will see.’ * Who is he ?’ said Dolff, obstinate and pale, standing behind the chair.

* You have no thought for me,’ said the mother. * You see me standing here, come here to defend you all, in desperation for you, and you never ask how I am to get

back, whether it will kill me No, no, Janet has gone, who supported me, who was a stranger, and asked no questions, but only helped a poor woman half mad with trouble and distress Ah !’ she said, ‘he would go mad and get free—he who was the cause of it all, but I have had to keep my sanity and my courage and bear it all, and look as if nothing was the matter, for fifteen yeais. For whom? Was it for me ?_ It would have been better for me to have died and been done with it all. For you children, to give you a happy life, to do away with all disgrace, to give you every advantage. Yes, I’ll take your arm, Ju ; you have not been a good child, but you know no Iretter. Get me to my chair before I drop down ; get me to my chaii —' She paused a moment, and looked round with a hard laugh. ‘ For lam very heavy,’ she said, ‘ and I would have to be carried, and who would do it I don’t know. Ju, make haste, before my strength is all gone. < let me to my chair. ’ CHAPTER XLIII. Gussy was the last to leave of that strange procession, of whom no one spoke to the other. She closed the door after her, and the curtains, and followed the erect figure of Dolff, drawn up as it never had been in his life before, and walking stiffly, as if carrying a new weight and occupying a position unknown. They all came into the hall, defiling solemnly one after the other, to find Mrs Harwood deposited in her chair and awaiting them, almost as if the whole events of the evening had been a dream and she had never left that spot. It was with a strange embarrassment, however, that they looked at each other in the pale, clear light as they emerged from the doorway, almost like making new acquaintances, as if they had never seen each other before. Nobody certainly had seen Dolff in that new manifestation ; nor was Gussy, she whose very existence had been wrapt up in that of Meredith, who had only lived to watch him for weeks past, recognisable. It was she who came out the last, but who made herself the first of the group. ‘ There may be a great many things to say,’ said Gussy ; ‘ but not to-night. We have all had a great many agitations tonight. My brother has been hunted tor his life. My mother has done a thing which, so far as we know, she hasn’t been ‘able to do for years. Mr Meredith has had a bad illness, for which it appears this unfortunate family is responsible too. I only and my little sister she paused here with an effort—‘ no; I will not pretend ; I have had my share of the shock, too. We'd better all separate for the night.’ ‘Gussy!’ cried Mrs Harwood, with a sharp tone of appeal. ‘Gussy!’ cried Meredith, astonished, trying to take her hand to draw her towards him. ‘ Gussy !’ said Dolff, with a certain indignation. ‘ It is no use,’ she said ‘ to appeal to me. I think I am the one who has been deceived all round. I thought I knew everything, and I’ve known nothing. Whatever may be the meaning of it, I for one am not able for any more to-night, and none of the rest ought to be able for it. I don't know whether I may have been deceived there, too, about how much invalids could bear. Good-night, mamma. I advise you to go to bed.’ Gussy waved her hand to the others without a word, and walked upstairs without turning her head. The sudden failure of a perfect faith in all the world, such as she had entertained without entering into complications for which her mind was not adapted, is no small matter. It is alarming even for others to see. They all stood huddled together for a moment as if a rock or a tower had fallen before their eyes. They could scarcely see each other for the dustand darkness it made. All the other events of this startling night seemea to fall into the background. Gussy ! who had been the central prop of the house, who had kept everybody together, done everything ! When she thus threw up her arms they were all left in dismay and fell into an assemblage of atoms, of units—no longer a united party ready to meet all comers. Meredith, perhaps, he who had been the most eager, was the most discomfited of all. He had claimed Gussy’s interest as his right for years. When she thus withdrew, not even asking if he were fatigued, speaking almost as if she thought that fatigue a pretence, he was so bewildered that he could do nothing. An anxious believer like this is accepted perhaps with too much faith and considered too inalienable a possession ; and when she fails the shock is proportionately great. Without Gussy to stand by him, to make him believe himself a universal conqueror, always interesting, Meredith for the moment was like an idol thrown from his pedestal. He was more astonished than words could say. He said, hurriedly, * I think Gussy is right, as she always is. Mrs Harwood, I will say good-night. ’ Mrs Harwood was altogether in a different mind. The period of reaction had not come with her as yet. She had got herself deposited in her chair in time enough to save her from any breaking down. And her spirit was full of excitement. ‘I am ready,’ she said, with a panting hot breath of mental commotion, ‘ to explain—whatever it is necessary to explain. Take me back to my room, Dolff'. It is cold here. 1

‘ Good-night,’ said Meredith. ‘ I will not encroach upon you longer to night.’ ‘As you like,’ she said. ‘ I warn you, however, that tomorrow Dolff, take me back to my fire.’ Dolff was unsubdued like his mother. The reaction from a long period of repression, and the sense of safety after a great alarm, no doubt acted upon his mind, though, so far as he was aware, he was moved by nothing save the overwhelming discovery he had made, and his indignant sense of wrong in finding such a secret retreat unsuspected in his mother’s—in his own—house. • We’ll be better alone,’ he said in the stern tone which was so new to him, putting his hand upon her chair ; ‘ but perhaps you could walk if you tried,’ he added, with rude sarcasm. He drove rather than wheeled her before him into the deserted room, where all was so brilliant ami warm, the light blinking in the bright brass and steel, the lamps serenely burning, everything telling of the tranquil life, unbroken by any butcheerfnl incidents, which had gone on there for so many years. ‘ Now, mother,’ slid Dolff, ‘we have got to have it out. Who is that man upstairs?’ Julia had followed them unremarked, and remained behind her mother’s chair. Dolff stood before them, in the full firelight, very erect, inspired with indignation and that sense of superiority which injury gives, ft had elevated him altogether in the scale of being. His own shortcomings had fallen from his consciousness. He was aware of nothing but that he, Dolff, in reality the head of the family, had been deceived and compromised.

Mrs Harwood took but little notice of her son. She took up her work which had been thrown upon the table and turned it over in her fingers. ‘ Gussy was right,’ she said, ‘ though she was a little brusque in her way of saying it. I am certainly unable to bear anything more to-night/ ‘ I suppose, however, you can answer my question,' said Dolff. ‘ Go to bed, boy,' said his mother, ‘and don’t worry me. We have two or three things to talk over, you and I, which are too much for to-uight.’ ‘I am not a boy any longer,’ cried Dolff'; ‘ you have made me a man. Who is it you have been hiding for years upstair* ?’ She gave vent to a little fierce laugh. ‘ For my pleasure,’ she said ; ‘ for my amusement, as anybody may see.’ ‘ Whether it is for your amusement or not,’ said Dolff', ‘ I am of age, and I have a right to know who is living in my house. ’ ‘ln your house !’ Her exasperation was growing. ‘ Don’t force me, Dolff, to go into other questions to-night.’ ‘ Whose house is it ?’ he said. ‘ There’s been no question, because you have kept everything in your hands ; but if I am to be driven to it, and claim my rights ’ ‘ Your rights !’ she cried, again repeating his woids. ‘ Was it one of your rights to knock down a man like a coward from behind ? It appears this is what you think you may be permitted to do with impunity—to have my house searched in every corner ami to destroy all that I have been doing for years, and to bring shame and disgrace to a house that I have kept free of this, almost at the risk of my life.’ ‘ I did not,’ cried Dolff, interrupting her eagerly. ‘ I did not knock him down from behind. I had not time to think. I let fly at him as I passed. It’s a lie to say I knocked him down from behind? ‘ You did the same thing : you took him unawares. And you dare to question me ! You killed a man at my door—or meant to do it—and never breathed a word to warn us, to keep us from the disgrace—-—’ Doin'was not clever enough to know what to say. His snort of rage was not attended by any force of bitter words. He only could repeat, with rage and incompetence, ‘At your door ?’ ‘ Perhaps,’ said Mis Harwood, half carried away by passion, half influenced by the dismay which she knew she liad it in her mind to call forth, ‘it would be better, since you are exact, to say at your father’s door.’ Dolff responded with a strange cry. He did not understand it, but he felt all the same that a blow which stunned him had been directed at him, and that the ground was cut from beneath his feet. ‘ He has neither been tried, nor sentenced, nor anything proved against him,’ cried Mrs Harwood, carried away now by the heat of her own excitement. ‘ All that has to be gone through before he can be put aside. And at this moment everything’s his—the roof that covers you, the money you have been spending. It is no more your house —your house ! —than it is Julia’s. It is your father’s house.’ ‘ My father is dead,’ said Dolff, who had again grown very pale, the flush of passion dying out of his face. ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Harwood, ‘and might have remained so, had it not been for your cowardly folly and Vicars’ infatuation foi you. How was it the man had not the sense to sj that a fool like you would spoil all ?’ ‘ You are dreaming, you are mad,’ said Dolff'; ‘ you are telling me another lie.’ But though he said this with almost undiminished passion, the young fellow’s superiority, his erect pose, his sense of being able to cow and overwhelm her, had come to an end. He fell into his usual attitude, his shoulders dropped and curved, his head hung down. He could fling a last insult at his mother, but no more. And his own mind began to be tilled with unfathomable dismay. Julia had been very nncertain what side to take. Her mind went naturally with her brother, who was most near heiself. But a mother is a mother after all. You may feel her to be in some w’ay your natural enemy when the matter is between yourself and her ; but when another hand plucks at her it is different. A girl is not going to let her mother be insulted, who after all means her own side, without interposing. Julia suddenly flew forth from behind her mother's chair and flung herself upon Dolff’s arm, seizing it and shaking him violently. ‘ How dare you speak to her like that ?'cried Ju, ‘ you that can’t do anything you try—not even kill Charley Meredith when you have the chance ! I should be ashamed to look anyone in the face. Go away, go away, and leave us quiet, you that have done it all, that brought the police into the house, and yet did not hurt him to speak of, you great, useless, disappointing boy !’ Dolff did not know how to sustain this sudden assault. He looked round stupidly at the active assailant at his shoulder with a little pang, even in his agitated and helpless state, to find that Julia was no longer on his side. His head was going round and round, already in his soul he had entirely collapsed, although he still kept his feet in outward appearance. And it would have been difficult to end this scene without an entire breakdown on one side or the other, had not the pensive little voice of the parlourmaid become audible at this moment over their heads, making them all start and draw back into themselves. ‘lf you please, ma’am,’ said Priscilla, ‘for I can’t find Miss Gussy, shall I take Mr Meredith’s tray to his room, or shall I bring it in here ?’ ‘ I think Mr Meredith is going to bed,’ said Mrs Harwood ; ‘heis a little tired. Take it into his room, Priscilla. And Miss Gussy has gone to bed ; you may come now and help me to get into my room, and then shut up everything. It is later than I thought.’ ‘ Yes, ma'am,’ said Priscilla, in those quiet tones of the commonplace which calm down every excitement. Priscilla indeed was herself bursting with curiosity and eagerness to find out what had happened. The long-sliut-up door stood ajar, and every maid in the house had already come to peep into the dark passage and wonder what it led to, and the keenest excitement tilled the house. But a parlourmaid has as high a standard of duty as anyone, were it an archbishop. It was against the unwritten household law to show any such commotion She took hold of the handle of her mistress's chair as she did on the mildest of domestic evenings, anil drew her very steadily and gently away. The only tevelation she made of knowing anything was in the suggestion that a little gruel with a glass of wine in it would be a proper thing for Mrs Harwood to take. • You may bring me the glass of wine without the gruel,' Mrs Harwood was heard saying as the sound of her wheels

moved slowly across that hall, an hour ago the scene of such passionate agitation. * I don’t think I have caught cold. A glass of wine anil a few biscuits,’ she said as by an afterthought. Was this part of the elaborate make-believe intended to deceive the servants and persuade them tlrat nothing particular had happened ? or was she indeed capable of munching those biscuits after such a night of fate? ‘Ju, don’t you turn against me,’ said Dolff, feebly, throwing himself into a chair when they were thus left alone. ‘Oh!’ cried Julia, still panting with her outburst, ‘to think you had hold of him and didn’t really hurt him, not to matter ! I can never, never forgive you, Dolff.’ ‘ Oh, hold your tongue, you little fool ; the only thing I’m glad of is that I didn’t hurt him —to matter ! You don’t know what it is to live for a long week, all the time he was insensible, thinking you have killed a man !’ ‘ When it was only Charley Meredith !’ Julia said. (TO BE CONTINUED.!