Began to laugh, and said that now we had been
so neatly caught, the best thing we could do was 'to give out
our engagement at once.
so neatly caught, the best thing we could do was 'to give out
our engagement at once.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v16 to v20 - Phi to Qui
Xailoun, whom heaven
awaits for his innocence and simplicity? "
And from his large blue wings he dropped a little feather,
which suddenly took root and grew into the most beautiful
plume ever seen over a royal coffin. This he did to mark the
spot.
Then he saw the poet asleep in death as in a joyful dream,
his features laughing with peace and happiness.
"My Lockman too," said the Angel, "desired to grow young
again to resemble us, although he had passed only a few seasons
among men,-who, alas! have not had time to profit by his
lessons. Yes, come, my brother, come with me; awake from
death to follow me. Come to eternal day, come to God. "
At the same time he placed a kiss of resurrection on Lock-
man's brow, raised him lightly from his bed of moss, and hurried
## p. 10684 (#564) ##########################################
10684
CHARLES NODIER
him into a heaven so deep that the eyes of eagles could not
follow them.
This is the Angel's story.
THE END OF THE GOLDEN DREAM
WHAT I have just told happened infinite ages ago, and the
name of the sage Lockman has lingered ever since in the mem-
ory of men.
And ever since, the Upas tree has stretched out the branches
whose shadow means death between the waters which flow eter-
nally.
This is the story of the World.
## p. 10685 (#565) ##########################################
10685
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
(1847-)
ILLIAM E. NORRIS's first novel, Heaps of Money' (London,
1877), was published in the Cornhill Magazine as a serial,
when he was not quite twenty-one years of age.
He was
born in London in 1847, was educated at Eton, went on the Continent
to study foreign languages as a preparation for diplomatic science,
changed his plans, and in 1874 came to the bar, but never practiced,
having already tasted the success of his first book. Since that time
Mr. Norris has devoted himself to the pro-
fession of literature. His home is at Tor-
quay, alternating during the winter between
Algiers and the Riviera.
Mr. Norris seems to have come into the
world like Minerva, full armed. Heaps of
Money' has the maturity of view, the sim-
plicity of diction, the quiet humor, and the
minuteness of observation of a veteran in
novel-writing. Its author showed that he
had not only the power to reflect on life in
its hypocrisies and petty social strivings,
but he had the half-cynical air of a man of
the world defending in tolerant fashion its
sins and its shams. Instead of posing as
preacher or reformer, the author took the more adroit way of seem-
ing to sneer at himself and his craft, and in ironical self-assertion
cleverly disarmed criticism.
He had seen perhaps that the time had gone by for sweeping in-
dictments, and that not the Juvenalian scourge but the Horatian flick
drove men to righteousness. Another characteristic of this first book
was the air of calm leisure that pervaded its quiet sentences; but the
reader, suspecting platitudes, soon found that the irony infused gave
them a delicious flavor. Lord Keswick, pressed by his father to
marry and extricate himself from his debts, urges plaintively that he
is not a domestic man. "Am I a domestic man ? " retorts his father.
And to tell the truth, he certainly was not. The hypocrisy of Mr.
Howard, the heroine's father, is amiably excused. "Some people,
knowingly or unknowingly, are perpetually playing parts, from their
WILLIAM E. NORRIS
## p. 10686 (#566) ##########################################
10686
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
cradle to their death-bed. Very likely they can't help themselves,
and ought only to be pitied for having an exaggerated idea of the
fitness of things. "
'Heaps of Money' was followed in 1880 by Mademoiselle de
Mersac,' a story played in Algiers, in which the author created two
of the most finished portraits in modern fiction: St. Luc, the blasé
cynical man of the world, who falls in love with the fresh young
girl Jeanne de Mersac, and serves her with a devotion half paternal,
half passionate, and wholly incomprehensible to her; and Jeanne her-
self, the incarnation of high-minded obstinacy and fierce maidenhood.
The plot of 'Mademoiselle de Mersac' is not new; but "the exquisite
touch which renders ordinary characters and commonplace things
interesting," to quote Scott of Miss Austin, of whom Norris may well
claim literary descent, is not denied him.
'Matrimony,' which was published the next year, abounds in deli-
cate characterizations and in «< character parts," as they are called on
the stage: the sage bore Mr. Flemyng, Admiral Bagshawe, and Gen-
eral Blair. Nothing is easier than to moralize in a certain fashion,
and truisms about life commend themselves to the ordinary mind.
Mr. Flemyng bristles with undisputed facts, retailed in conversations
in which the reader is sufficiently disinterested to be an amused
listener. Mr. Gervis in the same novel, if not as striking is as finely
drawn a portrait as St. Luc,- a cultured cynic who poses as doing
his kind deeds to spare himself the trouble of refusing.
In the long list of novels that succeed 'Matrimony,' Norris pre-
sents characters that are seldom planned on a higher scale than our-
selves; and yet at his will they stimulate our imagination and our
affection. As has been said of Thackeray's heroes, they have an
ideal of human conduct, and an aspiration, which though far from
conventional is yet noble and elevating. Women owe him a debt
for his championship of maidenhood. His young girl is as wild and
as free, to borrow Mr. Andrew Lang's simile, as Horace's "latis equa
trima campis. " He does not take for granted that a fresh young
creature, loving her parents and her brothers and sisters with all her
heart, will at her first dance fall headlong in love with the first man
who admires her. He endows her, on the contrary, with a girlish
perversity, a high-spirited resistance to the intruding element, as her
lover appears to her; and the plot often turns on the obstacles she
persists in erecting between herself and the man she loves.
We travel with Mr. Norris on level roads: his gentlemen are gen-
tlemen, even when they are villains; his heroes thoroughly good fel-
lows, with a talent for epigram; his heroines sweet English roses, set
about with little prickly thorns-till unexpectedly we come upon a
scene instinct with tragedy and pathos. The latter he uses sparingly
―――
## p. 10687 (#567) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10687
and with judgment.
There is no attempt to touch the feelings when
Margaret Stanniforth, most charming of women though neither young
nor beautiful, dies; and the short death scene in 'Mademoiselle de
Mersac is pathetic by the contrast between death and the abundant
strength and youth of Jeanne. One is as much affected, perhaps,
when M. de Fontvieille consigns Jeanne to Mr. Ashley, whose comic
agony lest the Frenchman embrace him heightens the sadness of
the simple old man's leave-taking; and again in a less known novel,
'My Friend Jim,' when the old worldling the Marquis of Staines
revisits the Eton playing-fields, and spends the summer day in recol-
lections of his boyhood.
In these scenes the effect is so spontaneous, so easily brought
about, that a lesser artist would use his gift oftener. But Mr. Norris
exercises a wise restraint on this dangerous ground. And if he is
conservative in his emotions, of all his generation he is the most
conservative in his traditions. His novels, as far as they portray the
ideas of the end of the nineteenth century, might have been written
a hundred years ago. The New Woman does not appear between
the covers of his books; social and economic problems are ignored.
Money and the want of it, caste and striving for it, occupy his char-
acters. His sympathies are apparently entirely with Mrs. Rawdon
Crawley when she exclaimed pathetically, "How good I could be on
£5,000 a year! "
But the lover of Norris is not inclined to find fault with the com-
pany he keeps. For very variety, he enjoys the society of Norris's
gentlepeople as a contrast to the sordid, the diseased, the poverty-
stricken, that crowd the pages of contemporary novelists. With some-
thing of cynicism and something of pathos, Norris combines a healthy
good-humor and a distaste for the withered side of life.
His vigor-
ous character Mrs. Winnington in 'No New Thing' knew the world,
and was not so simple as to believe that any sincere and conscien-
tious people except herself lived in it; but Kenyon's devotion to
Margaret Stanniforth, and Margaret's love for and fidelity to her dead
husband, refute all her evil thinking. Virtue rewarded, scapegraces
apologized for, human nature regarded with tenderness and pity, are
characteristics of Norris's predecessors rather than of writers of his
own time; and for a pure, refined, and scholarly style unaffected
sentiment, and quiet humor such as his, we must go back to his
master, Thackeray.
## p. 10688 (#568) ##########################################
10688
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
FREDDY CROFT: AND THE LYNSHIRE BALL
From Matrimony'
TH
HIS history is less the result of personal observation than of
information received at various times and from divers trust-
worthy sources; and if, in writing it, I had to confine
myself to the relation of such incidents as I could swear to in
a court of justice, I should not only be obliged to cut out many
scenes of a most interesting and pathetic nature, but some of the
characters who will make their appearance in due course would
have to be omitted altogether. As for this yeomanry ball, I saw
little more of it than did Lord Courtney, whose august counte-
nance was withdrawn from the assembly after a short quarter of
an hour. The truth is, that my dancing days are over; and I
was able to retire early, with the happy conviction that nobody
would notice my absence.
Before midnight the greater part of the ladies and gentlemen
present had done likewise; for it is not, or rather used not to
be, considered the thing to linger over-long at these entertain-
ments, which are intended rather for the amusement of the
men than of their superiors. Lady Lynchester, a thin, washed-
out looking person, who had never been heard to laugh in her
life, rose from her seat at the end of the room as soon as her
lord signaled to her that she was free to go; and the Beach-
borough contingent, ever scrupulous in the strict observance of
etiquette, hastened to follow her ladyship's lead. The land-
owners from distant parts of the country, who had a long drive
between themselves and home, collected their respective wives
and daughters, and trooped off in a body; the departure of some
stragglers, loitering near the doorway in hopes of seeing a little
of the fun, being hastened by Lord Lynchester, who began to
stalk about with his hands behind his back, wondering audibly
what the deuce those people were sticking there for.
But when the last of these had disappeared, there still re-
mained a few of what the noble and gallant Colonel called "the
right sort," privileged persons, who were known to entertain no
objection to a romp, and could be relied upon to tell no tales
next day. Conspicuous among the latter was Miss Croft, "a
downright jolly girl, with no stuck-up nonsense about her," to
-
## p. 10689 (#569) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10689
use Lord Lynchester's words; "just like her brother, only more
so, you know," -a description so terse and accurate that no
further space need be taken up in introducing her to the reader.
Miss Lambert, although an outsider, was included in the circle.
of choice spirits, probably because she carried her credentials.
in her face; and there were three or four young ladies besides,
whose names it is unnecessary to record.
During the early part of the evening, an unspoken convention.
had divided the ball-room into two halves, the officers and their
friends sitting and dancing at the upper end of it, while the
larger and humbler portion of the assemblage disported itself at
the lower; but now this imaginary barrier was swept away, to-
gether with all irksome class distinctions, and the whole floor was
at the disposition of the dancers. Now, when we dance in Lyn-
shire, we do it with a will: not skimming languidly and dreamily.
over the polished surface, nor lurching heavily round and round
on the same spot, like humming-tops tottering to their fall, as
the fashion of some effeminate citizens is; but taking a firm grip
of our partner's waist and hand, putting down our heads, and
starting off at a pace as good as we can make it, helter-skelter,
every man for himself, and devil take the hindmost.
The conse-
quences of this energetic method, when adopted by some seventy
couples in a long and narrow room, may be easily imagined.
Before the first waltz was at an end, many a stalwart yeoman
had measured his length upon the well-waxed floor, and the
elbows of more than one fair maiden were scratched and bruised.
Every now and then a faint shriek rose from the midst of the
mêlée, or a manly voice was heard to expostulate for a moment;
but the predominant sound was that of laughter, and hard knocks
seemed to be distributed pretty evenly all round, upon an ami-
cable give-and-take principle. Fat little Wilkins the butcher,
pounding blindly ahead, and sawing the air with outstretched
arm, brought his fist down with a thump on the middle of Lord
Lynchester's back, and instead of turning pale and trembling, as
he would have done at any other time after such a mishap,
bobbed off again as merrily as ever with a "Beg pardon, m' lord.
Didn't see yer-haw, haw, haw! " For indeed the supper-room
had been open for half an hour, and it is not on every day of
the year that a man can drink the best of champagne and pay
nothing for it.
XVIII-669
## p. 10690 (#570) ##########################################
'10690
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
"All right, Wilkins! " shouted Lord Lynchester after him;
"I'll make it hot for you in a minute. "
And presently, sure enough, his Lordship, having secured an
efficient partner in Miss Croft, darted off in pursuit of the delin-
quent, and proceeded to waltz round and round him in an ever-
contracting circle till he reduced him to such a state of giddiness
that he was fain to lean against the wall and gasp. Then with
a deft and rapid thrust in the ribs, which caused the luckless
butcher to exclaim aloud, "O lord! " he returned to his starting-
point, and throwing himself down upon a bench, gave way to a
peal of merriment in which Miss Croft joined heartily.
Claud Gervis looked on at all this horse-play with rather
wide-opened eyes. Was it in this manner that the aristocracy
of Great Britain was accustomed to take its relaxation? he won-
dered. Of the manners and habits of his native land he was
almost entirely ignorant. At Eton he had, of course, associated
with many young sprigs of nobility; but rank is not recognized
among boys, and Claud's impression of an English lord, which
was that commonly current in foreign countries, had received
confirmation from such specimens of the race as Lord Courtney
and an occasional ambassador or minister plenipotentiary who
had come in his way.
"What are you thinking of? " inquired his partner, that pretty
Miss Flemyng of whom mention has already been made. « You
look quite horrified. "
"No, I am not horrified," the young man said; "but I am
rather surprised, I admit. It is all so very different from what
I expected. I did not think we English were ever so-so up-
roarious. Surely it is not usual at a ball to try and knock down
as many people as one can. "
"Well, hardly," answered Miss Flemying laughing. "But this
is a yeomanry ball, you must remember; and besides, all the
quiet, respectable people are supposed to be gone, away. ”
"But Lady Croft is still here, and Miss Lambert - not to men-
tion present company. "
"Lady Croft is here because Florry won't go away; and Miss
Lambert is here because she is Miss Lambert, I suppose; and
I am here because I came with the Crofts. You need not say
anything about it when papa comes to call upon you, by the
He is like you- rather easily shocked. "
way.
H
## p. 10691 (#571) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10691
"I am not easily shocked," returned Claud, resenting such an
imputation with the natural fervor of a very young man.
"No? I thought you looked so.
I am sure I should be
shocked myself, if I had lived abroad all my life, and had made.
my first acquaintance with English society to-night.
But you
mustn't suppose that Lynshire always conducts itself like this.
We can behave as nicely as any one else in London; only when
we find ourselves all together in our own part of the world,
we think we may put on our country manners. And we are all
rather savages, as you see. "
Miss Flemyng did not look at all like a savage. Claud, who
was rather more observant of trifles than most men, had noticed
that the dress she wore was assuredly not the handiwork of a
provincial artist, and that her abundant brown locks were ar-
ranged in accordance with the latest mode. She moved and held.
herself in the indescribable style which only a woman of the
world can acquire: her manner was perfectly easy and natural,
and she seemed to be upon terms of the friendliest familiarity
with the young men who spoke to her, from time to time, as
she stood watching the dance; but she was not loud, like her
friend Miss Croft, nor did she make use of the schoolboy's slang
which formed so large a portion of that young lady's conversa-
tion. Her chief claim to beauty, setting aside those of a neat,
well-proportioned little figure and a general air of finish, consisted
in a pair of dark-gray eyes, which had been turned innocently
upon Claud's more than once in the course of the evening, and
had not failed to produce a certain impression upon him. He
was glad to hear that Miss Flemyng lived within a few miles
of Beachborough, for he thought he would decidedly like to see
more of her.
"I am not going to dance any more," she said, after she and
her partner had completed one perilous circuit of the room: "it's
too hot and dusty and disagreeable. Do you think there is a
balcony beyond that window, where the ferns are? If there is,
we might go and sit there. "
"I know there is," answered Claud, "because I was there
earlier in the evening. And there is a particularly comfortable
sofa there too, where we can sit and watch the sea; which after
all is a much pleasanter thing to look at on a hot night than
those fat yeomen. "
## p. 10692 (#572) ##########################################
10692
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
And now an awkward incident took place, which shows how
thoughtless it is of people to bounce unexpectedly into dark cor-
Claud pushed open the half-closed French window to let
Miss Flemyng pass, and following closely upon her heels-"Here
is the sofa," said he.
ners.
There it was, sure enough; and there also were two persons
seated upon it. Moreover, one of these persons happened to be
in the very act of kissing the other. And then, as fate would
have it, at that precise moment the moon emerged from behind
a cloud, and threw a fine flood of silvery light upon the figures
of Freddy Croft and Miss Lambert. The situation was a some-
what embarrassing one; and Claud did not mend matters by
hastily whisking round and gazing out to the sea, with an utterly
unsuccessful pretense of having seen nothing.
Miss Flemyng was less taken aback. She calmly surveyed the
luckless couple for a second, which must have seemed to them an
age; and then, stooping to pick up the train of her long dress,
stepped quietly back into the ball-room.
She was laughing a little when her partner rejoined her.
"How too ridiculous! " she exclaimed. "I shall never forget
poor Freddy's face. I hope you are discreet, and can keep a
secret, Mr. Gervis. "
"Of course I can," answered Claud. "I wish it had not hap-
pened, though. Croft will think it so stupid of me; and really it
almost looked as if we had done it on purpose. "
"Oh, he won't mind," said Miss Flemyng placidly. "Freddy
is always kissing people, and always getting caught. I daresay
Miss What's-her-name won't mind much either: she looks as if
she was quite accustomed to that kind of thing. "
"She may be engaged to be married to him, you know,"
remarked Claud, feeling bound to say a word for the unfortunate
lady whom his awkwardness had compromised.
"Oh, I do hope not. Poor dear little fellow! I should be so
very sorry if he were to fall into such a trap as that. He and
I have known one another since we were children, and he gener
ally tells me about all his love affairs; but I have been away,
and have never seen that monstrosity of a girl till this evening
You don't think there is really any danger, do you? "
Without knowing why, Claud felt vaguely annoyed by the
anxious ring of Miss Flemyng's voice. "I can't tell anything
## p. 10693 (#573) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10693
about it," he answered rather shortly. "He seems to admire
her very much, and they are always together. "
"Well, I wish they were not together now; or at least that
they were together anywhere except in the one cool place in
the building," remarked Miss Flemyng with a laugh. "We shall
have to take refuge on the staircase, I suppose. "
To the staircase they accordingly betook themselves; and in
that pleasant, untrammeled intercourse which is apt to arise
between young men and women under such circumstances, and
which, remote though it may be from serious love-making, is
generally sweetened by some of the charms which attach to the
unknown and the possible, Claud soon forgot all about Freddy
Croft and his destinies. But when the last dance was over, and
Claud was putting on his coat in the hall, his friend joined him.
with a face preternaturally long, and said in a solemn voice:-
"I say, Gervis, let me walk a bit of the way with you, will
you? I want to speak to you. ”
"Come along," said Claud. "Will you have a cigar? "
"Oh no," Freddy answered, shaking his head lugubriously:
"I don't want to smoke. "
He kept silence until he and his companion had reached the
outskirts of the town, and then began: —
"Do you know, Gervis, I have made an everlasting fool of
myself. "
"Ah! I can guess what you mean. I saw you doing it,
didn't I? "
"I suppose you did. At least you saw me kissing the girl.
But dear me, that was nothing, you know. "
"Wasn't it? "
"I mean, of course, it was all right. I knew you and Nina
Flemyng were safe enough; and really it was the sort of thing
that might have happened to anybody. But by George, sir! "
continued Freddy impressively, "do you know what that girl did
as soon as you were gone? "
"Burst into tears? " suggested Claud.
"Not she!
Began to laugh, and said that now we had been
so neatly caught, the best thing we could do was 'to give out
our engagement at once. ' thought she was chaffing at first;
but she wasn't-deuce a bit! She was as serious as I am now. "
I
"I can quite believe it. "
## p. 10694 (#574) ##########################################
10694
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
"Well, but, my dear fellow," resumed Freddy impatiently,
"don't you see what a horrid mess I am in? I never meant
anything of that kind at all; and how was I to suppose that she
did?
I don't want to marry anybody; and Miss Lambert of all
people! She's a very jolly girl, and a first-rate dancer, and all
that; but as for spending the rest of one's life with her- Oh,
I'm simply done for, and I shall go and drown myself in the
harbor. "
"I don't think I would decide upon doing that quite yet,"
remarked the other young man pensively.
"What would you do, if you were in my place? "
"I should run away, I think. Have you committed yourself
to anything definite ? »
"Oh no.
In point of fact, I rather tried to laugh the whole
thing off; but she wouldn't have that at any price. And the
worst of it is, I'm afraid she has told her mother. The old girl
gave me a very queer sort of look when I put her into her car-
riage, and said she would expect to see me to-morrow afternoon. ”
"And what did you say to that? "
"I? Oh, I said 'Good-night. '
"That was vague enough, certainly," observed Claud laugh-
ing. "Well, I have an idea. I think I can get you out of this.
Only you must promise me not to see Mrs. or Miss Lambert till
you hear from me again. Most likely I shall be with you before
the afternoon. "
"My dear fellow, I won't stir out of my bedroom," answered
the affrighted baronet earnestly. "I'll stay in bed, if you like.
Oh, if only I escape this time, not another woman under sixty
years of age do I speak to! "
MRS. WINNINGTON'S EAVESDROPPING
From No New Thing'
M
RS. WINNINGTON was a person of the fine-lady type, common
enough twenty years or so ago, but now rapidly becoming
extinct. Of a commanding presence, and with the remains
of considerable beauty, she was always dressed handsomely, and
in bright, decided colors; she carried a gold-mounted double
eye-glass, through which she was accustomed to survey inferior
## p. 10695 (#575) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10695
mortals with amusing impertinence, while in speaking to them,
her voice assumed a drawl so exaggerated as to render her valu-
able remarks almost unintelligible at times. These little graces
of manner had doubtless come to her from a study of the best
models, for she went a good deal into the fashionable world at
that time; but in addition to these, she possessed a complacent
density and an unfeigned self-confidence which were all her own,
and which would probably have sufficed at any epoch, and under
any circumstances, to render her at once as disagreeable and as
contented a woman as could have been found under the sun.
Whether because she resented the slight put upon her by the
Brunes, in that they had never seen fit to call at the Palace, or
because she had an inkling that their pride surpassed her own
vainglory, she made up her mind to snub them; and when Mrs.
Winnington made up her mind to any course of action, it was
usually carried through with a will. The plainness with which
these worthy folks were given to understand that, in her opinion,
they were no better than country bumpkins, and the mixture
of patronage and insolence with which she bore herself towards
them, were in their way inimitable. There are some people mag-
nanimous enough, or indifferent enough, to smile at such small
discourtesies; and probably the former owner of Longbourne was
more amused than angry when he was informed that the house
had been a positive pig-sty before it had been put in order, and
that Mrs. Winnington really could not imagine how any one had
found it possible to live in such a place.
When she reached home she found the drawing-room and
library untenanted; Margaret and Edith having, it was to be
presumed, gone out for a walk. Now it was a habit of Mrs.
Winnington's, whenever she found the house empty, to prowl all
over it, peeping into blotting-books, opening drawers, occasion-
ally going so far as to read letters that might be lying handy,
and as Mrs. Prosser, who hated her with a perfect hatred,
would say "poking and rummaging about as any under-house-
maid that I caught at such tricks should be dismissed immediate,
and no character given. "
It is probable that Mrs. Winnington saw no harm at all in
such pokings and rummagings. Her daughters, she would have
said, had no secrets from her, or at all events ought not to
have any. Nor had she any particular end to serve in entering
other people's bedrooms. For some occult reason it gave her
-
-
## p. 10696 (#576) ##########################################
10696
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
pleasure to do so; and the present occasion being favorable for
the gratifying of her tastes, she proceeded to profit by it. First
she made a thorough examination of all the reception-rooms;
then she went up-stairs, and spent some time in overhauling the
contents of Margaret's wardrobe; and then she passed on to the
room at that time occupied by Edith, which opened out of a long
corridor where the family portraits had hung in the days when
the owners of Longbourne had possessed a family to be thus com-
memorated. This corridor had a peculiarity. It terminated in a
small gallery, resembling a theatre box or one of those pews
which are still to be met with in a few old-fashioned churches,
whence you looked down upon a curious apse-like chamber,
tacked on to the house by a seventeenth-century Brune for some
purpose unknown. It may have been intended to serve as a
theatre, or possibly as a private chapel; of late years it had
fallen into disuse, being a gloomy and ill-lighted apartment, and
was seldom entered by anybody, except by the housemaids who
swept it out from time to time. Some one, however, was in it
now.
Mrs. Winnington, with her hand on the lock of her daugh-
ter's door, was startled by the sound of voices arising from that
quarter, and it was a matter of course that she should at once
make her way along the passage as stealthily as might be, and
peer over the edge of the gallery to see what might be going on
below.
She arrived in time to witness a scene so startling that she
very nearly put a dramatic finish to it then and there by falling
headlong over the balustrade, which was a low one. Upon an
ottoman, directly beneath her, her daughter Edith was sitting
in a very pretty and graceful attitude: her elbow resting on her
knee and her face hidden by her right hand, while her left was
held by Walter Brune, who was kneeling at her feet. And this
is what that audacious young reprobate was saying, in accents
which rose towards the roof with perfect distinctness:
"Now, my darling girl, you must not allow yourself to be
so cowed by that awful old mother of yours. There! I beg
your pardon: I didn't intend to speak disrespectfully of her, but
it came out before I could stop myself. What I mean is, you
mustn't let her bully you to that extent that you daren't call
your soul your own. Stand up to her boldly, and depend upon
it she'll knock under in the long run. When all's said and
done, she can't eat you alive. "
## p. 10697 (#577) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10697
The feelings of the astounded listener overhead may be im-
agined.
"Ah, you don't understand," sighed Edith. "It is easy enough
for a man to talk of standing up for himself; but you don't con-
sider how different it is with us. "
"But I do understand -I do consider," declared Walter,
scrambling up to his feet. "I know it's awfully hard upon
you, my dearest; but wouldn't it be harder still to marry some
decrepit old lord to please your mother, and to be miserable and
ashamed of yourself for the rest of your life? "
At this terrible picture Edith shuddered eloquently.
"So you see it's a choice of evils," continued the young man.
"Some people, I know, would think it was a great misfortune for
you that you should have come to care for a poor beggar like
me; but I am not going to say that because I don't believe it is
a real misfortune at all. How can it be a misfortune to love
the man who loves you better than any one else in the world
can possibly do, and who will always love you just the same as
long as he lives? »
"Upon my word! " ejaculated Mrs. Winnington inaudibly.
"Of course," Walter went on, "we shall have troubles, and
probably we shall have to wait a good many years; but we are
young, and we can afford to wait, if we must. You won't mind
waiting? "
“Oh, no: it is not the waiting that I shall mind," said Edith
faintly.
"And we know that it won't be for ever, and that nothing
can make either of us change. When one thinks of that, all the
rest seems almost plain sailing. The first explosion will be the
worst part of the business. I shall tell my father to-night. "
"Oh, must you? So soon? What will he say? "
"He? Oh, he won't say much, dear old man. I dare say he
won't exactly approve just at first; but when he sees that I am
in earnest, he'll do what he can to help me. And then, you
know, my dear, you'll have to tell your mother. "
«< Walter, I can't. I really could not do it. You have really
no idea of what a coward I am. I always lie awake shivering
all night before I go to the dentist's; and indeed, I would rather
have all my teeth pulled out, one by one, than tell mamma that
I had engaged myself to you. ”
At this juncture it was only natural that the young lovers.
should embrace; and if Mrs. Winnington had not been literally
## p. 10698 (#578) ##########################################
10698
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
stunned and paralyzed, she could hardly have maintained her
silence any longer in the presence of such a demonstration. As
it was, she neither moved nor uttered a word; and presently she
heard Edith whisper pleadingly:-
"Walter-dear-don't you think we could-mightn't we-
keep it secret just a little longer? "
The honest Walter rubbed his ear in perplexity. "Well, of
course we could; but it would be only a putting off of the evil
day, and I should like to feel that we had been perfectly straight
with the old-with your mother. Look here: how would it do
if I were to break it to her? "
"Oh, that would be a great deal worse! If only there were
some means of letting her find it out! "
Hardly had this aspiration been breathed when a hollow groan
was heard, proceeding apparently from the upper air. Edith
started violently, and clasped her hands.
"Oh! " she shrieked, "what was that? Did you hear it? "
"Yes," answered Walter, who had himself been somewhat
startled: "it was nothing; it was only one of the cows outside.
What a timid little goose you are! "
"Oh, it was not a cow! No cow ever made such a dreadful
sound as that. I am sure this dismal room is haunted- I can't
stay here any more. " And Edith fled precipitately.
Walter lingered for a moment, looked all around him, looked
up at the ceiling, looked everywhere,- except at the gallery just
over his head, and then hurried away after her.
The cause of all this disturbance was reclining in an arm-
chair, fanning herself with her pocket-handkerchief, and feeling
by no means sure that she was not about to have a fit.
―――――
In
It is perhaps hardly to be expected that any pity or sym-
pathy should be felt for Mrs. Winnington, who nevertheless was
a human creature very much like the rest of us - better, pos-
sibly, than some, and no worse than a good many others.
the course of the present narrative her failings have necessarily
been brought much to the front; but she was not one of those
depraved persons if indeed there be any such who deliber-
ately say to Evil, "Be thou my Good. " She was not a religious
woman (though she had always paid due respect to the observ-
ances of the Church, as beseemed a Bishop's wife); but neither
was she a woman without clear, albeit perverted, notions of
duty. That she was a miserable sinner, she was bound, in a
general sort of way, to believe; but she certainly did not suppose
________
-
-
## p. 10699 (#579) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10699
that her sins were any blacker than those of her neighbors.
According to her lights, she had done the best that she could
for her daughters, whom she really loved after a certain fash-
ion; and according to her lights, she intended to continue doing
the best she could for them. It is a fact that she thought a
great deal more about them than she did about herself. Thus it
was that she was every whit as much astonished and pained by
what she had witnessed as the most virtuous mother into whose
hands this book may chance to fall, would be, were she to dis-
cover her own immaculate daughter in the act of embracing -
say the parish doctor or the poverty-stricken parish curate.
"I could not have believed it! " moaned poor Mrs. Winning-
ton, as she sat humped up in her arm-chair, with all her majesty
of deportment gone out of her. "I could not have believed it
possible! Edith, of all people! If it had been Kate, or even
Margaret, I could have understood it better-but Edith! Oh, I
am crushed! I shall never get over this. "
She really looked and felt as if she might be going to have
a serious attack of illness; but as there was nobody there to be
alarmed, or to offer her assistance, she picked herself up after
a time, and made her way down the corridor with a slow, drag-
ging step.
AN IDYL IN KABYLIA
From Mademoiselle de Mersac
I
N THE first days of June, when the Hôtel d'Orient and the
Hôtel de la Régence had bidden adieu to the last of their
winter guests; when the Governor-General had migrated from
the town to his fairy-like palace on the leafy heights of Musta-
pha; when the smaller fry of officials were, in imitation of him and
in preparation for the hot season, transplanting themselves and
their families to the coolest attainable villas; when the aloes were
in flower and the air was full of a hundred faint scents, and the
corn and barley fields were very nearly ripe for the sickle,— at
the time of year, in short, when the luxuriant life and rich beauty
of Algeria were at their climax,- it occurred to Léon that it would
be a good thing to make a journey into Kabylia. For in the
grassy plains of that region, near the first spurs of the great
Djurdjura range, dwelt one Señor Lopez, a Spanish colonist and
## p. 10700 (#580) ##########################################
10700
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
a breeder of horses, who was generally open to a deal, and who,
at this particular time, had a nice lot of foals on hand, out of
some of which a discriminating young man might see his way
to make honest profit. But as few people, be they never so self-
confident, like to rely upon their own judgment alone in so deli-
cate a matter as the purchase of a foal, Léon conceived it to
be a sine quâ non that his sister should accompany him. And
then M. de Saint-Luc, hearing of the projected expedition, must
needs declare that he could not possibly leave Algeria without
revisiting the scene of his former campaigns, and that the oppor-
tunity of doing so in congenial society was one that he would
not miss for any imaginable consideration. After which, oddly
enough, Mr. Barrington too found out that to make acquaint-
ance with the mountain scenery of Kabylia had always been one
of his fondest dreams; and added - Why not push on a little
farther, and see some of the hill villages and the famous Fort
Napoléon ?
Neither Léon nor Jeanne offered any objection to this plan;
but when it was communicated to the duchess, she held up her
hands in horror and amazement.
"And your chaperon, mademoiselle? " she ejaculated. And the
truth is that both the young folks had overlooked this necessary
addition to their party.
Now, as the duchess herself would no more have thought of
undertaking a weary drive of three or four days' duration over
stony places than of ordering a fiery chariot to drive her straight
to heaven, and as no other available lady of advanced years
could be discovered, it seemed for a time as if either Mademoi-
selle de Mersac or her two admirers would have to remain in
Algiers; but at the last moment a deus ex machina was found in
the person of M. de Fontvieille, who announced his willingness
to join the party, and who, as Léon politely remarked when he
was out of earshot, was to all intents and purposes as good as
any old woman.
Poor old M. de Fontvieille! Nobody thanked him for what
was an act of pure good-nature and self-sacrifice-nobody at
least except Jeanne, who, by way of testifying her gratitude,
spent a long morning with him, examining his collection of gems
and listening to the oft-told tale of their several acquisitions, and
at the end presented him with an exquisite Marshal Niel rose-
bud for his button-hole.
## p. 10701 (#581) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10701
"Ah, mademoiselle," said he, as he pinned the flower into his
coat, "you do well to reserve your roses for old men, who ap-
preciate such gifts at their right value. Give none to the young
fellows: it would only increase their vanity, which is great
enough already. "
"I never give roses to anybody," said Jeanne.
"So much the better. Continue, my child, to observe that
wise rule. And remember that if the Lily of France is a stiffer
flower than the Rose of England, it is still our own, and French-
women ought to love it best. "
"What do you mean? " asked Jeanne, who objected to insinu-
ations.
"I mean nothing, my dear: lilies, I am aware, are out of
fashion; choose violets if you prefer them," answered the old
gentleman with a chuckle.
And Jeanne, having no rejoinder ready, took up her sunshade
in dignified silence, and went home.
An hour later, she and Barrington were seated opposite to
one another in the dilapidated wagonette which Léon used for
country journeys. It was an ancient vehicle, with patched
cushions and travel-stained leather roof and curtains; but its
springs were strong, and it had outlived the jolts and shocks of
many an unmetaled road and stony watercourse. Jeanne loved
it for association's sake; and Barrington, in his then state of
mind, would not have changed it for the car of Aurora.
It is nine years or more since Mr. Barrington was borne
swiftly along the dusty road which leads eastward from Algiers
in that shabby old shandrydan; and in nine years, the doctors
tell us, our whole outer man has been renewed, so that the being
which calls itself I to-day inhabits a changed prison from that
which it dwelt in a hundred and eight months ago, and will, if
it survive, occupy a hundred and eight months hence. Mental
statistics are less easy to arrive at, and it may be that our minds
are not as subject to the inexorable law of change as our bodies.
Barrington, at all events, whose views upon more subjects than
one have unquestionably become modified by the lapse of nine
years, still asserts, in confidential moments, that he looks back
upon that drive into Kabylia as the happiest episode in his exist-
ence. "Life,” he says, in that melancholy tone which perfectly
prosperous men have a trick of assuming, "is a dull enough.
business, take it all in all; but it has its good days here and
## p. 10702 (#582) ##########################################
10702
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
there. " And then he sighs, and puffs silently at his cigar for a
minute or two. "Old De Fontvieille sat on the box," he goes
on presently, "and talked to the driver. Young De Mersac had
ridden ahead, and she and I were as completely alone together
as if we had been upon a desert island. It was a situation in
which human nature instinctively shakes itself free of common-
place conventionality. We did not flirt,- thank Heaven, we were
neither of us so vulgar as to think of flirting! - but we talked
together as freely and naturally as Adam and Eve in the Gar-
den of Eden. " And then he generally heaves another sigh, and
rhapsodizes on and on, till, patient as one is, one has to remind
him that it is long past bedtime.
As (to use a hackneyed illustration) the traveler looks back
upon distant purple mountains, forgetting, as he contemplates
their soft beauty, the roughness of the track by which he crossed.
them, so Barrington recalls the happy bygone days of his Kabyl-
ian journey, and ignores the petty annoyances which somewhat
marred his enjoyment of it while it lasted. To hear him talk
you would think that the sun had never been too hot, nor the
roads too dusty, during that memorable excursion; that good
food was obtainable at every halting-place, and that he had
never had cause to complain of the accommodation provided for
him for the night. Time has blotted out from his mental vision
all retrospect of dirt, bad food, and the virulent attacks of the
African flea-a most malignant insect; impiger, iracundus, inex-
orabilis, acer; an animal who dies as hard as a rhinoceros, and
is scarcely less venomous than a mosquito. He dwells not now
upon the horrors of his first night at Bon-Douaou, during which
he sat up in bed, through long wakeful hours, doggedly scatter-
ing insecticide among his savage assailants, and producing about
as much effect thereby as a man slinging stones at an iron-clad
might do. The place where there was nothing but briny bacon.
to eat, the place where there was nothing but a broken-down
billiard-table and a rug to sleep upon, and the place where there
was nothing to drink except bad absinthe,-all these have faded
out of his recollection. But in truth, these small discomforts were
soon forgotten, even at the time
When Thomas of Ercildoune took his famous ride with the
Queen of the Fairies, and reached a region unknown to man,
it will be remembered that the fair lady drew rein for a few
minutes, and indicated to her companion the various paths that
## p. 10703 (#583) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10703
lay before them. There was the thorny way of righteousness
and the broad road of iniquity,- neither of which have ever been
found entirely free from drawbacks by mortals,- but besides
these there was a third path:
--
"Oh, see ye not that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae. "
And Thomas seems to have offered no objection to his leader's
choice.
Even so Barrington, though capable of distinguishing between
broad and narrow paths and their respective goals, capable also
- which is perhaps more to the purpose-of forecasting the re-
sults of prudence and folly, chose at this time to close his eyes,
and wander with Jeanne into that fairy-land of which every man
gets a glimpse in his time, though few have the good fortune to
linger within its precincts as long as did Thomas the Rhymer.
And so there came to him five days of which he will
probably never see the like again. Five days of glowing sun-
shine; five luminous, starlit nights-eighty hours, more or less
(making deductions for sleeping-time) of unreasoning, unthinking,
unmixed happiness: such was Barrington's share of Fairyland
—and a very fair share too, as the world goes. He would be
puzzled now-and indeed, for that matter, he would have been
puzzled a week after the excursion - to give any accurate de-
scription of the country between Algiers and Fort Napoléon.
The sum of his reminiscences was, that in the dewy mornings
and the cool evenings he drove through a wooded, hilly country
with Jeanne; that he rested in the noonday heat at spacious
whitewashed caravanserais or small wayside taverns, and talked
to Jeanne; that her tall, graceful figure was the first sight he
saw in the morning and the last at night; that he never left her
side for more than ten minutes at a time; that he discovered
some fresh charm in her with each succeeding hour; and that
when he arrived at Fort Napoléon, and the limit of his wander-
ings, he was as completely and irretrievably in love as ever man
was.
In truth, the incidents of the journey were well calculated to
enhance the mixture of admiration and reverence with which Bar-
rington had regarded Mademoiselle de Mersac from the moment.
## p.
awaits for his innocence and simplicity? "
And from his large blue wings he dropped a little feather,
which suddenly took root and grew into the most beautiful
plume ever seen over a royal coffin. This he did to mark the
spot.
Then he saw the poet asleep in death as in a joyful dream,
his features laughing with peace and happiness.
"My Lockman too," said the Angel, "desired to grow young
again to resemble us, although he had passed only a few seasons
among men,-who, alas! have not had time to profit by his
lessons. Yes, come, my brother, come with me; awake from
death to follow me. Come to eternal day, come to God. "
At the same time he placed a kiss of resurrection on Lock-
man's brow, raised him lightly from his bed of moss, and hurried
## p. 10684 (#564) ##########################################
10684
CHARLES NODIER
him into a heaven so deep that the eyes of eagles could not
follow them.
This is the Angel's story.
THE END OF THE GOLDEN DREAM
WHAT I have just told happened infinite ages ago, and the
name of the sage Lockman has lingered ever since in the mem-
ory of men.
And ever since, the Upas tree has stretched out the branches
whose shadow means death between the waters which flow eter-
nally.
This is the story of the World.
## p. 10685 (#565) ##########################################
10685
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
(1847-)
ILLIAM E. NORRIS's first novel, Heaps of Money' (London,
1877), was published in the Cornhill Magazine as a serial,
when he was not quite twenty-one years of age.
He was
born in London in 1847, was educated at Eton, went on the Continent
to study foreign languages as a preparation for diplomatic science,
changed his plans, and in 1874 came to the bar, but never practiced,
having already tasted the success of his first book. Since that time
Mr. Norris has devoted himself to the pro-
fession of literature. His home is at Tor-
quay, alternating during the winter between
Algiers and the Riviera.
Mr. Norris seems to have come into the
world like Minerva, full armed. Heaps of
Money' has the maturity of view, the sim-
plicity of diction, the quiet humor, and the
minuteness of observation of a veteran in
novel-writing. Its author showed that he
had not only the power to reflect on life in
its hypocrisies and petty social strivings,
but he had the half-cynical air of a man of
the world defending in tolerant fashion its
sins and its shams. Instead of posing as
preacher or reformer, the author took the more adroit way of seem-
ing to sneer at himself and his craft, and in ironical self-assertion
cleverly disarmed criticism.
He had seen perhaps that the time had gone by for sweeping in-
dictments, and that not the Juvenalian scourge but the Horatian flick
drove men to righteousness. Another characteristic of this first book
was the air of calm leisure that pervaded its quiet sentences; but the
reader, suspecting platitudes, soon found that the irony infused gave
them a delicious flavor. Lord Keswick, pressed by his father to
marry and extricate himself from his debts, urges plaintively that he
is not a domestic man. "Am I a domestic man ? " retorts his father.
And to tell the truth, he certainly was not. The hypocrisy of Mr.
Howard, the heroine's father, is amiably excused. "Some people,
knowingly or unknowingly, are perpetually playing parts, from their
WILLIAM E. NORRIS
## p. 10686 (#566) ##########################################
10686
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
cradle to their death-bed. Very likely they can't help themselves,
and ought only to be pitied for having an exaggerated idea of the
fitness of things. "
'Heaps of Money' was followed in 1880 by Mademoiselle de
Mersac,' a story played in Algiers, in which the author created two
of the most finished portraits in modern fiction: St. Luc, the blasé
cynical man of the world, who falls in love with the fresh young
girl Jeanne de Mersac, and serves her with a devotion half paternal,
half passionate, and wholly incomprehensible to her; and Jeanne her-
self, the incarnation of high-minded obstinacy and fierce maidenhood.
The plot of 'Mademoiselle de Mersac' is not new; but "the exquisite
touch which renders ordinary characters and commonplace things
interesting," to quote Scott of Miss Austin, of whom Norris may well
claim literary descent, is not denied him.
'Matrimony,' which was published the next year, abounds in deli-
cate characterizations and in «< character parts," as they are called on
the stage: the sage bore Mr. Flemyng, Admiral Bagshawe, and Gen-
eral Blair. Nothing is easier than to moralize in a certain fashion,
and truisms about life commend themselves to the ordinary mind.
Mr. Flemyng bristles with undisputed facts, retailed in conversations
in which the reader is sufficiently disinterested to be an amused
listener. Mr. Gervis in the same novel, if not as striking is as finely
drawn a portrait as St. Luc,- a cultured cynic who poses as doing
his kind deeds to spare himself the trouble of refusing.
In the long list of novels that succeed 'Matrimony,' Norris pre-
sents characters that are seldom planned on a higher scale than our-
selves; and yet at his will they stimulate our imagination and our
affection. As has been said of Thackeray's heroes, they have an
ideal of human conduct, and an aspiration, which though far from
conventional is yet noble and elevating. Women owe him a debt
for his championship of maidenhood. His young girl is as wild and
as free, to borrow Mr. Andrew Lang's simile, as Horace's "latis equa
trima campis. " He does not take for granted that a fresh young
creature, loving her parents and her brothers and sisters with all her
heart, will at her first dance fall headlong in love with the first man
who admires her. He endows her, on the contrary, with a girlish
perversity, a high-spirited resistance to the intruding element, as her
lover appears to her; and the plot often turns on the obstacles she
persists in erecting between herself and the man she loves.
We travel with Mr. Norris on level roads: his gentlemen are gen-
tlemen, even when they are villains; his heroes thoroughly good fel-
lows, with a talent for epigram; his heroines sweet English roses, set
about with little prickly thorns-till unexpectedly we come upon a
scene instinct with tragedy and pathos. The latter he uses sparingly
―――
## p. 10687 (#567) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10687
and with judgment.
There is no attempt to touch the feelings when
Margaret Stanniforth, most charming of women though neither young
nor beautiful, dies; and the short death scene in 'Mademoiselle de
Mersac is pathetic by the contrast between death and the abundant
strength and youth of Jeanne. One is as much affected, perhaps,
when M. de Fontvieille consigns Jeanne to Mr. Ashley, whose comic
agony lest the Frenchman embrace him heightens the sadness of
the simple old man's leave-taking; and again in a less known novel,
'My Friend Jim,' when the old worldling the Marquis of Staines
revisits the Eton playing-fields, and spends the summer day in recol-
lections of his boyhood.
In these scenes the effect is so spontaneous, so easily brought
about, that a lesser artist would use his gift oftener. But Mr. Norris
exercises a wise restraint on this dangerous ground. And if he is
conservative in his emotions, of all his generation he is the most
conservative in his traditions. His novels, as far as they portray the
ideas of the end of the nineteenth century, might have been written
a hundred years ago. The New Woman does not appear between
the covers of his books; social and economic problems are ignored.
Money and the want of it, caste and striving for it, occupy his char-
acters. His sympathies are apparently entirely with Mrs. Rawdon
Crawley when she exclaimed pathetically, "How good I could be on
£5,000 a year! "
But the lover of Norris is not inclined to find fault with the com-
pany he keeps. For very variety, he enjoys the society of Norris's
gentlepeople as a contrast to the sordid, the diseased, the poverty-
stricken, that crowd the pages of contemporary novelists. With some-
thing of cynicism and something of pathos, Norris combines a healthy
good-humor and a distaste for the withered side of life.
His vigor-
ous character Mrs. Winnington in 'No New Thing' knew the world,
and was not so simple as to believe that any sincere and conscien-
tious people except herself lived in it; but Kenyon's devotion to
Margaret Stanniforth, and Margaret's love for and fidelity to her dead
husband, refute all her evil thinking. Virtue rewarded, scapegraces
apologized for, human nature regarded with tenderness and pity, are
characteristics of Norris's predecessors rather than of writers of his
own time; and for a pure, refined, and scholarly style unaffected
sentiment, and quiet humor such as his, we must go back to his
master, Thackeray.
## p. 10688 (#568) ##########################################
10688
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
FREDDY CROFT: AND THE LYNSHIRE BALL
From Matrimony'
TH
HIS history is less the result of personal observation than of
information received at various times and from divers trust-
worthy sources; and if, in writing it, I had to confine
myself to the relation of such incidents as I could swear to in
a court of justice, I should not only be obliged to cut out many
scenes of a most interesting and pathetic nature, but some of the
characters who will make their appearance in due course would
have to be omitted altogether. As for this yeomanry ball, I saw
little more of it than did Lord Courtney, whose august counte-
nance was withdrawn from the assembly after a short quarter of
an hour. The truth is, that my dancing days are over; and I
was able to retire early, with the happy conviction that nobody
would notice my absence.
Before midnight the greater part of the ladies and gentlemen
present had done likewise; for it is not, or rather used not to
be, considered the thing to linger over-long at these entertain-
ments, which are intended rather for the amusement of the
men than of their superiors. Lady Lynchester, a thin, washed-
out looking person, who had never been heard to laugh in her
life, rose from her seat at the end of the room as soon as her
lord signaled to her that she was free to go; and the Beach-
borough contingent, ever scrupulous in the strict observance of
etiquette, hastened to follow her ladyship's lead. The land-
owners from distant parts of the country, who had a long drive
between themselves and home, collected their respective wives
and daughters, and trooped off in a body; the departure of some
stragglers, loitering near the doorway in hopes of seeing a little
of the fun, being hastened by Lord Lynchester, who began to
stalk about with his hands behind his back, wondering audibly
what the deuce those people were sticking there for.
But when the last of these had disappeared, there still re-
mained a few of what the noble and gallant Colonel called "the
right sort," privileged persons, who were known to entertain no
objection to a romp, and could be relied upon to tell no tales
next day. Conspicuous among the latter was Miss Croft, "a
downright jolly girl, with no stuck-up nonsense about her," to
-
## p. 10689 (#569) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10689
use Lord Lynchester's words; "just like her brother, only more
so, you know," -a description so terse and accurate that no
further space need be taken up in introducing her to the reader.
Miss Lambert, although an outsider, was included in the circle.
of choice spirits, probably because she carried her credentials.
in her face; and there were three or four young ladies besides,
whose names it is unnecessary to record.
During the early part of the evening, an unspoken convention.
had divided the ball-room into two halves, the officers and their
friends sitting and dancing at the upper end of it, while the
larger and humbler portion of the assemblage disported itself at
the lower; but now this imaginary barrier was swept away, to-
gether with all irksome class distinctions, and the whole floor was
at the disposition of the dancers. Now, when we dance in Lyn-
shire, we do it with a will: not skimming languidly and dreamily.
over the polished surface, nor lurching heavily round and round
on the same spot, like humming-tops tottering to their fall, as
the fashion of some effeminate citizens is; but taking a firm grip
of our partner's waist and hand, putting down our heads, and
starting off at a pace as good as we can make it, helter-skelter,
every man for himself, and devil take the hindmost.
The conse-
quences of this energetic method, when adopted by some seventy
couples in a long and narrow room, may be easily imagined.
Before the first waltz was at an end, many a stalwart yeoman
had measured his length upon the well-waxed floor, and the
elbows of more than one fair maiden were scratched and bruised.
Every now and then a faint shriek rose from the midst of the
mêlée, or a manly voice was heard to expostulate for a moment;
but the predominant sound was that of laughter, and hard knocks
seemed to be distributed pretty evenly all round, upon an ami-
cable give-and-take principle. Fat little Wilkins the butcher,
pounding blindly ahead, and sawing the air with outstretched
arm, brought his fist down with a thump on the middle of Lord
Lynchester's back, and instead of turning pale and trembling, as
he would have done at any other time after such a mishap,
bobbed off again as merrily as ever with a "Beg pardon, m' lord.
Didn't see yer-haw, haw, haw! " For indeed the supper-room
had been open for half an hour, and it is not on every day of
the year that a man can drink the best of champagne and pay
nothing for it.
XVIII-669
## p. 10690 (#570) ##########################################
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WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
"All right, Wilkins! " shouted Lord Lynchester after him;
"I'll make it hot for you in a minute. "
And presently, sure enough, his Lordship, having secured an
efficient partner in Miss Croft, darted off in pursuit of the delin-
quent, and proceeded to waltz round and round him in an ever-
contracting circle till he reduced him to such a state of giddiness
that he was fain to lean against the wall and gasp. Then with
a deft and rapid thrust in the ribs, which caused the luckless
butcher to exclaim aloud, "O lord! " he returned to his starting-
point, and throwing himself down upon a bench, gave way to a
peal of merriment in which Miss Croft joined heartily.
Claud Gervis looked on at all this horse-play with rather
wide-opened eyes. Was it in this manner that the aristocracy
of Great Britain was accustomed to take its relaxation? he won-
dered. Of the manners and habits of his native land he was
almost entirely ignorant. At Eton he had, of course, associated
with many young sprigs of nobility; but rank is not recognized
among boys, and Claud's impression of an English lord, which
was that commonly current in foreign countries, had received
confirmation from such specimens of the race as Lord Courtney
and an occasional ambassador or minister plenipotentiary who
had come in his way.
"What are you thinking of? " inquired his partner, that pretty
Miss Flemyng of whom mention has already been made. « You
look quite horrified. "
"No, I am not horrified," the young man said; "but I am
rather surprised, I admit. It is all so very different from what
I expected. I did not think we English were ever so-so up-
roarious. Surely it is not usual at a ball to try and knock down
as many people as one can. "
"Well, hardly," answered Miss Flemying laughing. "But this
is a yeomanry ball, you must remember; and besides, all the
quiet, respectable people are supposed to be gone, away. ”
"But Lady Croft is still here, and Miss Lambert - not to men-
tion present company. "
"Lady Croft is here because Florry won't go away; and Miss
Lambert is here because she is Miss Lambert, I suppose; and
I am here because I came with the Crofts. You need not say
anything about it when papa comes to call upon you, by the
He is like you- rather easily shocked. "
way.
H
## p. 10691 (#571) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10691
"I am not easily shocked," returned Claud, resenting such an
imputation with the natural fervor of a very young man.
"No? I thought you looked so.
I am sure I should be
shocked myself, if I had lived abroad all my life, and had made.
my first acquaintance with English society to-night.
But you
mustn't suppose that Lynshire always conducts itself like this.
We can behave as nicely as any one else in London; only when
we find ourselves all together in our own part of the world,
we think we may put on our country manners. And we are all
rather savages, as you see. "
Miss Flemyng did not look at all like a savage. Claud, who
was rather more observant of trifles than most men, had noticed
that the dress she wore was assuredly not the handiwork of a
provincial artist, and that her abundant brown locks were ar-
ranged in accordance with the latest mode. She moved and held.
herself in the indescribable style which only a woman of the
world can acquire: her manner was perfectly easy and natural,
and she seemed to be upon terms of the friendliest familiarity
with the young men who spoke to her, from time to time, as
she stood watching the dance; but she was not loud, like her
friend Miss Croft, nor did she make use of the schoolboy's slang
which formed so large a portion of that young lady's conversa-
tion. Her chief claim to beauty, setting aside those of a neat,
well-proportioned little figure and a general air of finish, consisted
in a pair of dark-gray eyes, which had been turned innocently
upon Claud's more than once in the course of the evening, and
had not failed to produce a certain impression upon him. He
was glad to hear that Miss Flemyng lived within a few miles
of Beachborough, for he thought he would decidedly like to see
more of her.
"I am not going to dance any more," she said, after she and
her partner had completed one perilous circuit of the room: "it's
too hot and dusty and disagreeable. Do you think there is a
balcony beyond that window, where the ferns are? If there is,
we might go and sit there. "
"I know there is," answered Claud, "because I was there
earlier in the evening. And there is a particularly comfortable
sofa there too, where we can sit and watch the sea; which after
all is a much pleasanter thing to look at on a hot night than
those fat yeomen. "
## p. 10692 (#572) ##########################################
10692
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
And now an awkward incident took place, which shows how
thoughtless it is of people to bounce unexpectedly into dark cor-
Claud pushed open the half-closed French window to let
Miss Flemyng pass, and following closely upon her heels-"Here
is the sofa," said he.
ners.
There it was, sure enough; and there also were two persons
seated upon it. Moreover, one of these persons happened to be
in the very act of kissing the other. And then, as fate would
have it, at that precise moment the moon emerged from behind
a cloud, and threw a fine flood of silvery light upon the figures
of Freddy Croft and Miss Lambert. The situation was a some-
what embarrassing one; and Claud did not mend matters by
hastily whisking round and gazing out to the sea, with an utterly
unsuccessful pretense of having seen nothing.
Miss Flemyng was less taken aback. She calmly surveyed the
luckless couple for a second, which must have seemed to them an
age; and then, stooping to pick up the train of her long dress,
stepped quietly back into the ball-room.
She was laughing a little when her partner rejoined her.
"How too ridiculous! " she exclaimed. "I shall never forget
poor Freddy's face. I hope you are discreet, and can keep a
secret, Mr. Gervis. "
"Of course I can," answered Claud. "I wish it had not hap-
pened, though. Croft will think it so stupid of me; and really it
almost looked as if we had done it on purpose. "
"Oh, he won't mind," said Miss Flemyng placidly. "Freddy
is always kissing people, and always getting caught. I daresay
Miss What's-her-name won't mind much either: she looks as if
she was quite accustomed to that kind of thing. "
"She may be engaged to be married to him, you know,"
remarked Claud, feeling bound to say a word for the unfortunate
lady whom his awkwardness had compromised.
"Oh, I do hope not. Poor dear little fellow! I should be so
very sorry if he were to fall into such a trap as that. He and
I have known one another since we were children, and he gener
ally tells me about all his love affairs; but I have been away,
and have never seen that monstrosity of a girl till this evening
You don't think there is really any danger, do you? "
Without knowing why, Claud felt vaguely annoyed by the
anxious ring of Miss Flemyng's voice. "I can't tell anything
## p. 10693 (#573) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10693
about it," he answered rather shortly. "He seems to admire
her very much, and they are always together. "
"Well, I wish they were not together now; or at least that
they were together anywhere except in the one cool place in
the building," remarked Miss Flemyng with a laugh. "We shall
have to take refuge on the staircase, I suppose. "
To the staircase they accordingly betook themselves; and in
that pleasant, untrammeled intercourse which is apt to arise
between young men and women under such circumstances, and
which, remote though it may be from serious love-making, is
generally sweetened by some of the charms which attach to the
unknown and the possible, Claud soon forgot all about Freddy
Croft and his destinies. But when the last dance was over, and
Claud was putting on his coat in the hall, his friend joined him.
with a face preternaturally long, and said in a solemn voice:-
"I say, Gervis, let me walk a bit of the way with you, will
you? I want to speak to you. ”
"Come along," said Claud. "Will you have a cigar? "
"Oh no," Freddy answered, shaking his head lugubriously:
"I don't want to smoke. "
He kept silence until he and his companion had reached the
outskirts of the town, and then began: —
"Do you know, Gervis, I have made an everlasting fool of
myself. "
"Ah! I can guess what you mean. I saw you doing it,
didn't I? "
"I suppose you did. At least you saw me kissing the girl.
But dear me, that was nothing, you know. "
"Wasn't it? "
"I mean, of course, it was all right. I knew you and Nina
Flemyng were safe enough; and really it was the sort of thing
that might have happened to anybody. But by George, sir! "
continued Freddy impressively, "do you know what that girl did
as soon as you were gone? "
"Burst into tears? " suggested Claud.
"Not she!
Began to laugh, and said that now we had been
so neatly caught, the best thing we could do was 'to give out
our engagement at once. ' thought she was chaffing at first;
but she wasn't-deuce a bit! She was as serious as I am now. "
I
"I can quite believe it. "
## p. 10694 (#574) ##########################################
10694
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
"Well, but, my dear fellow," resumed Freddy impatiently,
"don't you see what a horrid mess I am in? I never meant
anything of that kind at all; and how was I to suppose that she
did?
I don't want to marry anybody; and Miss Lambert of all
people! She's a very jolly girl, and a first-rate dancer, and all
that; but as for spending the rest of one's life with her- Oh,
I'm simply done for, and I shall go and drown myself in the
harbor. "
"I don't think I would decide upon doing that quite yet,"
remarked the other young man pensively.
"What would you do, if you were in my place? "
"I should run away, I think. Have you committed yourself
to anything definite ? »
"Oh no.
In point of fact, I rather tried to laugh the whole
thing off; but she wouldn't have that at any price. And the
worst of it is, I'm afraid she has told her mother. The old girl
gave me a very queer sort of look when I put her into her car-
riage, and said she would expect to see me to-morrow afternoon. ”
"And what did you say to that? "
"I? Oh, I said 'Good-night. '
"That was vague enough, certainly," observed Claud laugh-
ing. "Well, I have an idea. I think I can get you out of this.
Only you must promise me not to see Mrs. or Miss Lambert till
you hear from me again. Most likely I shall be with you before
the afternoon. "
"My dear fellow, I won't stir out of my bedroom," answered
the affrighted baronet earnestly. "I'll stay in bed, if you like.
Oh, if only I escape this time, not another woman under sixty
years of age do I speak to! "
MRS. WINNINGTON'S EAVESDROPPING
From No New Thing'
M
RS. WINNINGTON was a person of the fine-lady type, common
enough twenty years or so ago, but now rapidly becoming
extinct. Of a commanding presence, and with the remains
of considerable beauty, she was always dressed handsomely, and
in bright, decided colors; she carried a gold-mounted double
eye-glass, through which she was accustomed to survey inferior
## p. 10695 (#575) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10695
mortals with amusing impertinence, while in speaking to them,
her voice assumed a drawl so exaggerated as to render her valu-
able remarks almost unintelligible at times. These little graces
of manner had doubtless come to her from a study of the best
models, for she went a good deal into the fashionable world at
that time; but in addition to these, she possessed a complacent
density and an unfeigned self-confidence which were all her own,
and which would probably have sufficed at any epoch, and under
any circumstances, to render her at once as disagreeable and as
contented a woman as could have been found under the sun.
Whether because she resented the slight put upon her by the
Brunes, in that they had never seen fit to call at the Palace, or
because she had an inkling that their pride surpassed her own
vainglory, she made up her mind to snub them; and when Mrs.
Winnington made up her mind to any course of action, it was
usually carried through with a will. The plainness with which
these worthy folks were given to understand that, in her opinion,
they were no better than country bumpkins, and the mixture
of patronage and insolence with which she bore herself towards
them, were in their way inimitable. There are some people mag-
nanimous enough, or indifferent enough, to smile at such small
discourtesies; and probably the former owner of Longbourne was
more amused than angry when he was informed that the house
had been a positive pig-sty before it had been put in order, and
that Mrs. Winnington really could not imagine how any one had
found it possible to live in such a place.
When she reached home she found the drawing-room and
library untenanted; Margaret and Edith having, it was to be
presumed, gone out for a walk. Now it was a habit of Mrs.
Winnington's, whenever she found the house empty, to prowl all
over it, peeping into blotting-books, opening drawers, occasion-
ally going so far as to read letters that might be lying handy,
and as Mrs. Prosser, who hated her with a perfect hatred,
would say "poking and rummaging about as any under-house-
maid that I caught at such tricks should be dismissed immediate,
and no character given. "
It is probable that Mrs. Winnington saw no harm at all in
such pokings and rummagings. Her daughters, she would have
said, had no secrets from her, or at all events ought not to
have any. Nor had she any particular end to serve in entering
other people's bedrooms. For some occult reason it gave her
-
-
## p. 10696 (#576) ##########################################
10696
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
pleasure to do so; and the present occasion being favorable for
the gratifying of her tastes, she proceeded to profit by it. First
she made a thorough examination of all the reception-rooms;
then she went up-stairs, and spent some time in overhauling the
contents of Margaret's wardrobe; and then she passed on to the
room at that time occupied by Edith, which opened out of a long
corridor where the family portraits had hung in the days when
the owners of Longbourne had possessed a family to be thus com-
memorated. This corridor had a peculiarity. It terminated in a
small gallery, resembling a theatre box or one of those pews
which are still to be met with in a few old-fashioned churches,
whence you looked down upon a curious apse-like chamber,
tacked on to the house by a seventeenth-century Brune for some
purpose unknown. It may have been intended to serve as a
theatre, or possibly as a private chapel; of late years it had
fallen into disuse, being a gloomy and ill-lighted apartment, and
was seldom entered by anybody, except by the housemaids who
swept it out from time to time. Some one, however, was in it
now.
Mrs. Winnington, with her hand on the lock of her daugh-
ter's door, was startled by the sound of voices arising from that
quarter, and it was a matter of course that she should at once
make her way along the passage as stealthily as might be, and
peer over the edge of the gallery to see what might be going on
below.
She arrived in time to witness a scene so startling that she
very nearly put a dramatic finish to it then and there by falling
headlong over the balustrade, which was a low one. Upon an
ottoman, directly beneath her, her daughter Edith was sitting
in a very pretty and graceful attitude: her elbow resting on her
knee and her face hidden by her right hand, while her left was
held by Walter Brune, who was kneeling at her feet. And this
is what that audacious young reprobate was saying, in accents
which rose towards the roof with perfect distinctness:
"Now, my darling girl, you must not allow yourself to be
so cowed by that awful old mother of yours. There! I beg
your pardon: I didn't intend to speak disrespectfully of her, but
it came out before I could stop myself. What I mean is, you
mustn't let her bully you to that extent that you daren't call
your soul your own. Stand up to her boldly, and depend upon
it she'll knock under in the long run. When all's said and
done, she can't eat you alive. "
## p. 10697 (#577) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10697
The feelings of the astounded listener overhead may be im-
agined.
"Ah, you don't understand," sighed Edith. "It is easy enough
for a man to talk of standing up for himself; but you don't con-
sider how different it is with us. "
"But I do understand -I do consider," declared Walter,
scrambling up to his feet. "I know it's awfully hard upon
you, my dearest; but wouldn't it be harder still to marry some
decrepit old lord to please your mother, and to be miserable and
ashamed of yourself for the rest of your life? "
At this terrible picture Edith shuddered eloquently.
"So you see it's a choice of evils," continued the young man.
"Some people, I know, would think it was a great misfortune for
you that you should have come to care for a poor beggar like
me; but I am not going to say that because I don't believe it is
a real misfortune at all. How can it be a misfortune to love
the man who loves you better than any one else in the world
can possibly do, and who will always love you just the same as
long as he lives? »
"Upon my word! " ejaculated Mrs. Winnington inaudibly.
"Of course," Walter went on, "we shall have troubles, and
probably we shall have to wait a good many years; but we are
young, and we can afford to wait, if we must. You won't mind
waiting? "
“Oh, no: it is not the waiting that I shall mind," said Edith
faintly.
"And we know that it won't be for ever, and that nothing
can make either of us change. When one thinks of that, all the
rest seems almost plain sailing. The first explosion will be the
worst part of the business. I shall tell my father to-night. "
"Oh, must you? So soon? What will he say? "
"He? Oh, he won't say much, dear old man. I dare say he
won't exactly approve just at first; but when he sees that I am
in earnest, he'll do what he can to help me. And then, you
know, my dear, you'll have to tell your mother. "
«< Walter, I can't. I really could not do it. You have really
no idea of what a coward I am. I always lie awake shivering
all night before I go to the dentist's; and indeed, I would rather
have all my teeth pulled out, one by one, than tell mamma that
I had engaged myself to you. ”
At this juncture it was only natural that the young lovers.
should embrace; and if Mrs. Winnington had not been literally
## p. 10698 (#578) ##########################################
10698
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
stunned and paralyzed, she could hardly have maintained her
silence any longer in the presence of such a demonstration. As
it was, she neither moved nor uttered a word; and presently she
heard Edith whisper pleadingly:-
"Walter-dear-don't you think we could-mightn't we-
keep it secret just a little longer? "
The honest Walter rubbed his ear in perplexity. "Well, of
course we could; but it would be only a putting off of the evil
day, and I should like to feel that we had been perfectly straight
with the old-with your mother. Look here: how would it do
if I were to break it to her? "
"Oh, that would be a great deal worse! If only there were
some means of letting her find it out! "
Hardly had this aspiration been breathed when a hollow groan
was heard, proceeding apparently from the upper air. Edith
started violently, and clasped her hands.
"Oh! " she shrieked, "what was that? Did you hear it? "
"Yes," answered Walter, who had himself been somewhat
startled: "it was nothing; it was only one of the cows outside.
What a timid little goose you are! "
"Oh, it was not a cow! No cow ever made such a dreadful
sound as that. I am sure this dismal room is haunted- I can't
stay here any more. " And Edith fled precipitately.
Walter lingered for a moment, looked all around him, looked
up at the ceiling, looked everywhere,- except at the gallery just
over his head, and then hurried away after her.
The cause of all this disturbance was reclining in an arm-
chair, fanning herself with her pocket-handkerchief, and feeling
by no means sure that she was not about to have a fit.
―――――
In
It is perhaps hardly to be expected that any pity or sym-
pathy should be felt for Mrs. Winnington, who nevertheless was
a human creature very much like the rest of us - better, pos-
sibly, than some, and no worse than a good many others.
the course of the present narrative her failings have necessarily
been brought much to the front; but she was not one of those
depraved persons if indeed there be any such who deliber-
ately say to Evil, "Be thou my Good. " She was not a religious
woman (though she had always paid due respect to the observ-
ances of the Church, as beseemed a Bishop's wife); but neither
was she a woman without clear, albeit perverted, notions of
duty. That she was a miserable sinner, she was bound, in a
general sort of way, to believe; but she certainly did not suppose
________
-
-
## p. 10699 (#579) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10699
that her sins were any blacker than those of her neighbors.
According to her lights, she had done the best that she could
for her daughters, whom she really loved after a certain fash-
ion; and according to her lights, she intended to continue doing
the best she could for them. It is a fact that she thought a
great deal more about them than she did about herself. Thus it
was that she was every whit as much astonished and pained by
what she had witnessed as the most virtuous mother into whose
hands this book may chance to fall, would be, were she to dis-
cover her own immaculate daughter in the act of embracing -
say the parish doctor or the poverty-stricken parish curate.
"I could not have believed it! " moaned poor Mrs. Winning-
ton, as she sat humped up in her arm-chair, with all her majesty
of deportment gone out of her. "I could not have believed it
possible! Edith, of all people! If it had been Kate, or even
Margaret, I could have understood it better-but Edith! Oh, I
am crushed! I shall never get over this. "
She really looked and felt as if she might be going to have
a serious attack of illness; but as there was nobody there to be
alarmed, or to offer her assistance, she picked herself up after
a time, and made her way down the corridor with a slow, drag-
ging step.
AN IDYL IN KABYLIA
From Mademoiselle de Mersac
I
N THE first days of June, when the Hôtel d'Orient and the
Hôtel de la Régence had bidden adieu to the last of their
winter guests; when the Governor-General had migrated from
the town to his fairy-like palace on the leafy heights of Musta-
pha; when the smaller fry of officials were, in imitation of him and
in preparation for the hot season, transplanting themselves and
their families to the coolest attainable villas; when the aloes were
in flower and the air was full of a hundred faint scents, and the
corn and barley fields were very nearly ripe for the sickle,— at
the time of year, in short, when the luxuriant life and rich beauty
of Algeria were at their climax,- it occurred to Léon that it would
be a good thing to make a journey into Kabylia. For in the
grassy plains of that region, near the first spurs of the great
Djurdjura range, dwelt one Señor Lopez, a Spanish colonist and
## p. 10700 (#580) ##########################################
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WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
a breeder of horses, who was generally open to a deal, and who,
at this particular time, had a nice lot of foals on hand, out of
some of which a discriminating young man might see his way
to make honest profit. But as few people, be they never so self-
confident, like to rely upon their own judgment alone in so deli-
cate a matter as the purchase of a foal, Léon conceived it to
be a sine quâ non that his sister should accompany him. And
then M. de Saint-Luc, hearing of the projected expedition, must
needs declare that he could not possibly leave Algeria without
revisiting the scene of his former campaigns, and that the oppor-
tunity of doing so in congenial society was one that he would
not miss for any imaginable consideration. After which, oddly
enough, Mr. Barrington too found out that to make acquaint-
ance with the mountain scenery of Kabylia had always been one
of his fondest dreams; and added - Why not push on a little
farther, and see some of the hill villages and the famous Fort
Napoléon ?
Neither Léon nor Jeanne offered any objection to this plan;
but when it was communicated to the duchess, she held up her
hands in horror and amazement.
"And your chaperon, mademoiselle? " she ejaculated. And the
truth is that both the young folks had overlooked this necessary
addition to their party.
Now, as the duchess herself would no more have thought of
undertaking a weary drive of three or four days' duration over
stony places than of ordering a fiery chariot to drive her straight
to heaven, and as no other available lady of advanced years
could be discovered, it seemed for a time as if either Mademoi-
selle de Mersac or her two admirers would have to remain in
Algiers; but at the last moment a deus ex machina was found in
the person of M. de Fontvieille, who announced his willingness
to join the party, and who, as Léon politely remarked when he
was out of earshot, was to all intents and purposes as good as
any old woman.
Poor old M. de Fontvieille! Nobody thanked him for what
was an act of pure good-nature and self-sacrifice-nobody at
least except Jeanne, who, by way of testifying her gratitude,
spent a long morning with him, examining his collection of gems
and listening to the oft-told tale of their several acquisitions, and
at the end presented him with an exquisite Marshal Niel rose-
bud for his button-hole.
## p. 10701 (#581) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10701
"Ah, mademoiselle," said he, as he pinned the flower into his
coat, "you do well to reserve your roses for old men, who ap-
preciate such gifts at their right value. Give none to the young
fellows: it would only increase their vanity, which is great
enough already. "
"I never give roses to anybody," said Jeanne.
"So much the better. Continue, my child, to observe that
wise rule. And remember that if the Lily of France is a stiffer
flower than the Rose of England, it is still our own, and French-
women ought to love it best. "
"What do you mean? " asked Jeanne, who objected to insinu-
ations.
"I mean nothing, my dear: lilies, I am aware, are out of
fashion; choose violets if you prefer them," answered the old
gentleman with a chuckle.
And Jeanne, having no rejoinder ready, took up her sunshade
in dignified silence, and went home.
An hour later, she and Barrington were seated opposite to
one another in the dilapidated wagonette which Léon used for
country journeys. It was an ancient vehicle, with patched
cushions and travel-stained leather roof and curtains; but its
springs were strong, and it had outlived the jolts and shocks of
many an unmetaled road and stony watercourse. Jeanne loved
it for association's sake; and Barrington, in his then state of
mind, would not have changed it for the car of Aurora.
It is nine years or more since Mr. Barrington was borne
swiftly along the dusty road which leads eastward from Algiers
in that shabby old shandrydan; and in nine years, the doctors
tell us, our whole outer man has been renewed, so that the being
which calls itself I to-day inhabits a changed prison from that
which it dwelt in a hundred and eight months ago, and will, if
it survive, occupy a hundred and eight months hence. Mental
statistics are less easy to arrive at, and it may be that our minds
are not as subject to the inexorable law of change as our bodies.
Barrington, at all events, whose views upon more subjects than
one have unquestionably become modified by the lapse of nine
years, still asserts, in confidential moments, that he looks back
upon that drive into Kabylia as the happiest episode in his exist-
ence. "Life,” he says, in that melancholy tone which perfectly
prosperous men have a trick of assuming, "is a dull enough.
business, take it all in all; but it has its good days here and
## p. 10702 (#582) ##########################################
10702
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
there. " And then he sighs, and puffs silently at his cigar for a
minute or two. "Old De Fontvieille sat on the box," he goes
on presently, "and talked to the driver. Young De Mersac had
ridden ahead, and she and I were as completely alone together
as if we had been upon a desert island. It was a situation in
which human nature instinctively shakes itself free of common-
place conventionality. We did not flirt,- thank Heaven, we were
neither of us so vulgar as to think of flirting! - but we talked
together as freely and naturally as Adam and Eve in the Gar-
den of Eden. " And then he generally heaves another sigh, and
rhapsodizes on and on, till, patient as one is, one has to remind
him that it is long past bedtime.
As (to use a hackneyed illustration) the traveler looks back
upon distant purple mountains, forgetting, as he contemplates
their soft beauty, the roughness of the track by which he crossed.
them, so Barrington recalls the happy bygone days of his Kabyl-
ian journey, and ignores the petty annoyances which somewhat
marred his enjoyment of it while it lasted. To hear him talk
you would think that the sun had never been too hot, nor the
roads too dusty, during that memorable excursion; that good
food was obtainable at every halting-place, and that he had
never had cause to complain of the accommodation provided for
him for the night. Time has blotted out from his mental vision
all retrospect of dirt, bad food, and the virulent attacks of the
African flea-a most malignant insect; impiger, iracundus, inex-
orabilis, acer; an animal who dies as hard as a rhinoceros, and
is scarcely less venomous than a mosquito. He dwells not now
upon the horrors of his first night at Bon-Douaou, during which
he sat up in bed, through long wakeful hours, doggedly scatter-
ing insecticide among his savage assailants, and producing about
as much effect thereby as a man slinging stones at an iron-clad
might do. The place where there was nothing but briny bacon.
to eat, the place where there was nothing but a broken-down
billiard-table and a rug to sleep upon, and the place where there
was nothing to drink except bad absinthe,-all these have faded
out of his recollection. But in truth, these small discomforts were
soon forgotten, even at the time
When Thomas of Ercildoune took his famous ride with the
Queen of the Fairies, and reached a region unknown to man,
it will be remembered that the fair lady drew rein for a few
minutes, and indicated to her companion the various paths that
## p. 10703 (#583) ##########################################
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
10703
lay before them. There was the thorny way of righteousness
and the broad road of iniquity,- neither of which have ever been
found entirely free from drawbacks by mortals,- but besides
these there was a third path:
--
"Oh, see ye not that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae. "
And Thomas seems to have offered no objection to his leader's
choice.
Even so Barrington, though capable of distinguishing between
broad and narrow paths and their respective goals, capable also
- which is perhaps more to the purpose-of forecasting the re-
sults of prudence and folly, chose at this time to close his eyes,
and wander with Jeanne into that fairy-land of which every man
gets a glimpse in his time, though few have the good fortune to
linger within its precincts as long as did Thomas the Rhymer.
And so there came to him five days of which he will
probably never see the like again. Five days of glowing sun-
shine; five luminous, starlit nights-eighty hours, more or less
(making deductions for sleeping-time) of unreasoning, unthinking,
unmixed happiness: such was Barrington's share of Fairyland
—and a very fair share too, as the world goes. He would be
puzzled now-and indeed, for that matter, he would have been
puzzled a week after the excursion - to give any accurate de-
scription of the country between Algiers and Fort Napoléon.
The sum of his reminiscences was, that in the dewy mornings
and the cool evenings he drove through a wooded, hilly country
with Jeanne; that he rested in the noonday heat at spacious
whitewashed caravanserais or small wayside taverns, and talked
to Jeanne; that her tall, graceful figure was the first sight he
saw in the morning and the last at night; that he never left her
side for more than ten minutes at a time; that he discovered
some fresh charm in her with each succeeding hour; and that
when he arrived at Fort Napoléon, and the limit of his wander-
ings, he was as completely and irretrievably in love as ever man
was.
In truth, the incidents of the journey were well calculated to
enhance the mixture of admiration and reverence with which Bar-
rington had regarded Mademoiselle de Mersac from the moment.
## p.
