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Tl
ROiBERTSON'S CEEEAlP SERIES-
POPULAR READING AT POPULAR PBICBiS.
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL
BY fj:.ore]nce marry A.T.
(MBS. FEANCIS LEAN.)
IN THREE VOLUMES.
COMPLETE.
TORONTO
J. ROSS ROBERTSON, 55 KING-STREET WFS P,
SOUTH- WESr CORNER OF BAY-STBVBT.
187U
2074
Entered acoordine to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand
eight hundred and seventy-nine, by John Ross Robertson, in the
Office of the Minister of Aja^ricalture.
THE ROOT OK ALL EVIL
VOLUME I.
CHAPTER I.
TOU MUST PLAY TOUR CARDS TFRYCABEFlTLIiY.
It was an evening party at Mrs. Stingo's,
not many years ago, that two old men and
two old women were talking scandal across
the whist- table that stood in an ante-chamber
to the reception-room. Everybody accepted
the invitations of Mrs. Stingo. She was not
a lady, she was ignorant, uncultivated, and
rode in her manners ; but then her husband
had amassed a fortune in trade, and whether
honestly or dishonestly made no difference to
Mrs. Stingo's acquaintances. She had a fine
house and a fine oarri:ige : wore handsome
dres^ies and gave good suppers ; and if one
can get so much out o^ v«ae'b friends, what is
the use of inquiring by what means their
luxuries are gained ?
^ Such at least was the opinion of the ladies
who were playing whist in the ante-chamber.
The older and uglier of the two was Lady
William Nettleship, the vridow of the sixth
son of the Duke of Mudford, whose grand
family had never taken any notice of her
existence.
She was very poor and very grasping, and
would stoop to the lowest devices to save a
penny. Yet there were people who, on ac-
count of her title, would fawn upon her and
flatter her vanity, and lend her half-crowns
which she always forgot to return ; and
amongst the most conspicuous of these was
Mrs. Runnymede, the lady who sat opposite
to her. She waa a stout overblown matron
of fifty, whose husband, if alive, was never
alluded to.
She had been cut by the larger portion of
society, and waa thankful, even at the ex-
pense of many half-crowns, to hans on to the
skirts of any woman who bere the shadow
of respectability about her. The partners
with whom Lady William Nettleahip and
Mrs. Runnvinede were playing, were Mr
RufuB Farthingale an astute little lawyer,
and Colonel Crossman, a male busybody who
spent all his time going from one house to
another, collecting oits of scandal to retail
to the fashionable press.
'I cannot believe it,' exclaimed Ladv
William, sharply. ' All Sir Peregrine a
money to go the missing grandson Vivian
I Chasemore ! Are you quite sure that it's
I tiue r
I She was a skinny, dried-up-looking old
I lady, whose features twitched incessantly
) with incipent paralysis. She seemed to be
I particularly interested in the subject ia
I hand, for as she leaned forward to question
the lawyer her head shook so an to set the
gold butterflies in her cap into violent agita*
tion.
'lam quite sure, my lady,' repUfid Mr.
Farthingale, with a smile of secret satis*
faction. ' Having enjoyed the confidence of
the late Sir Peregrine for many years past, I
knew of his decision long before it was
made public. Besides,it is no secret. The
will was read out before the whole family.
' Well, I never heard of it before, and we
are most intimate with Sir Arthnr,' returned
Lady William.
' Perhaps Sir Arthur does not consider it
part of his duty to make his grandfather's
wishes public. But it is well known amongst
his friends.'
' It is the most astounding piece of news I '
said Mrs. Runnymede. ' Poor Sir Arthnr
not to have a halfpenny of the money, unless
his cousin Vivian continues missing. What
does he say to it, Mr. Farthingale ? '
' He seemp to bear the suspense very well,
Mrs. Runnymede, and takes an active inter-
est in the Eeareh that is being made for Mr*
Vivian.'
'Oh, because he is in hopes of getting
proofs of his death, of course 1 '
' That I cannot tell you, madam ; bmt w«
have the strongest reason to believe that h*
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL
niAjr still be alive, in wbioh case he is sure to
tarn up before long,'
* Well, everybody has been led to consider
him dead for the last four years, and I think
it will be the very height of selfishness and
inoonsideration in the young man if he is
alive after all,' remarked Lady William, in
the same acid tone. ' What made him run
away from home in the first instance ? '
* An unhappy disagreement, I understand,
with his stepmother. His father, the late
General Chaaemore, obose, when Mr Vivian
was already twenty years of age, to marry
again, and his choice unfortunately fell on a
lady who was addicted to — that is, who had
a WBBkness for *
' Whit ' demanded Mrs. Runnym«ide,
as she stared the little lawyer full in tlif. face
with her bold black eyes.
Mr. Farthingale seemed to be in a di-
lemma.
' It is difficult to speak of such things
before ladies of your position ; ' he murmured
after a paune ; ' but the fact is that the
second Mrs. Chasemore had what the
doctors term an inclination to the use of
alcoholio stimulants, which caused much
dissension and unhappiaesa in her family
circle,'
' Oh, is that all ! ' said Lady William,
contemptuously. ' That's common enough
nowadays, I can tell you. I could point out
half-a-dozen women in this room to-night
who do the same thing. '
The subject did not seem to interest Mrs.
Runny mede. She leaned over the table to
Lady William and whispered :
* How beautiful Miss Nettleship is looking
this evening 1 '
The remark was irrelevant, but it seemed
to distract the mother's attention.
' Whe-'e is she ? Ah, talking to Sir
Arthur Chasemore t I thought as much,
They are such friends. But I should like
her to hear this story. Would you step
across the room, colonel, and bring my
daughter to me T Say I wish to speak to
her for a moment.'
The old colonel rose sti£Ely from his chair
to do the Lady's bidding, and in a few
minutes returned with Miss Nettleship up-
on his arm.
' What is it you require of me, mamma ? '
she said indifferently.
Regina Nettleship was not a pretty wo-
man, but she was very handsome. There
was no rippling charm about her laughter .
no quick, sweet lightning in the flash of her
eye, that would have made a man turn
back to look at her. She was tall, fair, and
perfectly self-posssessed, with good features
and a (line figure ; but her eyes and her
mouth were cold, and her. whole maniMr
reserved. She looked like a queen, hat
a queen that kept her subieots at a dia*
tance. She was almost shabbily attirad
in a black net dress that had turned
brown with age, and a pair of gloves that
had been both cleaned and mended. Yet
no one could have mistaken her for other
than she was ; a gentlewoman with good
blood in her.
' Mr. Farthingale is telling ug such a won-
derful story, Regina, and I want you to
listen to it. It is all about Sir Arthur's
cousin, that eccentric young man who disap-
peared from his. home some years ago, and
now it seems that Sir Penegriue has left all
his fortune to him. Here, my dear, just lit
down on the edge of my chair and hear what
Mr. Farthingale has to say on the subject.
It is really most interesting and romantic. '
* Thank you, mamma, but I would rather
stand !' replied Regina.
'I was just telling Lady William,' said
Mr. Farthingale, i ecommencing, in deference
to the new-comer, 'that, four years ago.
owing to some unhappy dissensions at home,
Mr. Vivian Chasemore loft his father's home
and never returned to it. At the time of
General Chasemore's death, the young man
was advertised for, but did not respond, so it
was concluded he was dead himself or had
lef c the country. The grandfather, Sir Pere-
griue, never made any sign on these ooca*
sions ; but two months ago, when he died and
his will was opened, it was found that he had
always looked upon Mr. Vivian as his
favourite, and passing over his elder son's
child, the present baronet, and all his other
grandchildren, had left the whole of his
fortune to Vivian Chasemore, in case he re-
appeared within three years' time, during
which period an unremitting search is, by
the provisions of the will, to be made for him.
Of course it was a disappointment to Sir
Arthur, who has only his very small patri-
mony and his profession on which to keep
up the title. However,shonld his cousin not
' be found within the stipulated time, the for-
tune is to revert to him, so he has still a
chance.'
, Oh, Mr. Vivian wiH not be heard of, de-
pend upon it !' exclaimed Lady William, con-
fidently.
' I am not so sure of that, my lady. I
think there is every likelihood of his return-
ing as soon as the advertisements which we
have sent out catch his eye.'
' But if he is alive, why didn't he come
forward at his own father's death t Didn't
he inherit some money then, Mr< Farthin-
gale?'
' None at all. General Chasemore died in |
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
d«bt ; and hia widow, I am ■orr^ to say, daily
intnuohM on the imall proviaion made for
iMT.'
'Should Mr. Vivian return, he ia hard*
Iv likely to o£fer his stop-mamma a nome
'JUL'
lasemore died in
' Hardly inde^ I It was her conduct that
drove him away. It is a great pity he was
broaght up to no profession. It was rumour-
ed uter his disappeaiaaoo that he had
gone on the stage ; but if so, he has
changed his name, and we havo los*; sight of
him.
* Well, this is a pretty story altogether !
What do you think of it, Regina T* said Lady
William.
Regina had looked very thoughtful as she
liatened to the lawyer's recital ; but the voice
in which she had answered her mother's
waa carelessness itself.
' Is it necessary that I should think any-
thing about it at all, mamma T Sir Arthur's
affairs cannot possibly concern us.'
* They concern the whole of society, my
dear. A young man who had disgraced
himself, as Mr. Vivian Chasemore has, to be
permitted to take the bread, as it were, out
; of his own cousin's month ! I call it shame-
ful.'
' It will not be quite so bad as that, my
[lady/ interptosed Mr. Farthingale, 'Sir
I Arthur has his profession, you know, and a
few hundreds beside. Still, fifty thousand
pounds is not a sum to be relinquished with-
[ out a single regret. '
' Fifty thousand pounds!' cried Mrs.Runny-
[mede, with uplifted hands ; ' is it really so
[mnoh as that? And all belonging perhaps
jto a low actor ! How unequally the mercies
jof Heave^ are distributed in this worid I
I'Fifty thousand pounds ! Well, I never ! And
lahonld^r. Vivian Cbasmore be alive, Mr.
IFarthingale, how soon shall you hear of
lit?'
'We expect to have news of hin every
vy, madam. The bloodhounds of the law
ftre after him in every direction. Sir Arthur
as anxious for intelligence as any of ua.
te is a fine character. We see a graat deal
him. He constantly honours our humble
ling
Lady William regarded the little lawyer
rith her keen eyes suspiciously. He also
a daughter, ^whom some people thought
{ood-looking, and who was reputed sole
keiress to a considerable sum of money,
tiss Uegina's mother sniffed danger in the
' Oh, Sir Arthur is a great deal at your
louse, is he T I suppose Miss Selina is the
l^ttraction there — eh, Mr. Farthingale ?'
' Oh, now, really, your ladyship must ex-
cuse me. I know nothing of young ladies'
fancies, nor young gentlemen's either — I do
not, upon my word. But Sir Arthur has
naturally a great deal of businrM to transact
with me at present ; and he and Selina
appear to have a mutral inclination formusio.
Sir Arthur possesses a fine voice.'
' Does he t I have nevea heard it. Runny*
mede' (Lady William has a most ufien*
sive nabit of addressing those whom she
considerefi her inferiors by their srunames),
1 shan't play any more to-night. I thiuk it
is time to pay a little attention to our
hostess. How do we stand with regard to
the pool T Oh, I see I I owe Colonel (Jrou<
man seven-and-sixpence. Just pay him,
there's a good soul I for I've no change,
and remind me of it to-morrow. <Jum«,
Regina !'
* Where are yon going now, mamma?'
' Into the next room, my dear, to speak to
Mr& Stingo.'
fiut on their way there Lady William
drew her daughter aside into a sort of coa*
servatory that stood upon the landing.
' Regina, you must play your carda very
carefully with regard to Sir Arthur.'
* I don't understand you, mamma. I have
no cards to play.'
* You understand perfectly. But you are
as obstinate as your father was before you .
Cannot you see that little lawyer's game!
He wautH to catch the baronet for his vulgar
daughter, and will do all he can to hud
Vivian Chasemore in consequence. That is
why he goes spreading the story in every
direction. It's to keep other people on.
He knows that his money-bags will be some
inducement to Sir Arthur, as things are at
presAnt ; but should he come into his grand*
father's fortune. Miss Selina may whistle for
him !
' And what is all this to me ?*
'Really, Regina, you are the most pro*
voking girl in existence ! To hear you taljc,
one would imagine you had been born with a
gold spoon in your mouth. But fifty thousand
pounds, my dear ! Only think of it I Fifty
thousand pounds I For Heaven's sake, don t
let it slip between your fingers t'
Lady William's face turned almost green
with envy as she mouthed the amount of Sir
Peregrine's fortune, and clutched at the
trimming of her daughter's shabby dress
with her claw-like hand as though to en-
treat Ler consideration.
* Go on, mamma,' said Regina. • What do
you want me to do ?'
' I want you to keep good friends with Sir
Arthur,without entangling yourself — he may
have the money after all, you know — but yon
mustn't go too far. as you may not be .able to
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
draw back when neoeuary. Therb ia no
laying what the next few days may bring
forth. You heard Mr Farthinsale's opinioa
— that newi may be received of Vivian
Chasemore at any lAoment. '
• And then '
' And then — upon my word, Regina, any
one, to lee you atare at me in that extra-
ordinary manner, would aay you had not the
full uae of your aenaea. Why, of course, in
inch an emergency, your inatinot will teach
you the beat thing to do. But, meanwhile,
you muat not be more than friendly with Sir
Arthur. You aee how the land liea — ahould
hia cousin be found, the man has positively
nothing but a few bundreda and his beggarly
ErofesaioD to depend upon. How can he
ear the suspense? One day of it would
kill ine. But there is Mrs. Stingy beckoning
to n« — we must positively go. But remem-
ber, Regina, you must keep Sir Arthur in
play.'
' Uoe minute, mamma. This business is
mine, and you must allow m<) to conduct it
my own way. You need not be afraid. I
know perfectly well what T am about, but I
can't be dictated to,or have my actions com-
mented upon.'
' Oh, very well I You must do as you
choose. But don't say afterwards that 1
haven't warned you !' exclaimed Lady
William, as she hurried into the prasence of
her hostess.
Mrs. Stingo was surrounded by a bevy of
inch gueata aa she loved to gather about her
— people who had much higher birth than
herself, and much lighter purses ; and who
considered therefore, her good dinners and
rappers to be equivalent for the honour
they did her in enrolling her name on their
visiting list. There was Mrs. Macdougal
of Macdougal — the Macdougal, as she was
familiarly termed — an old Scotchwoman,
who wore Cairngorms as big as walnuts on
her withered neck, and dined, for half the
week, upon red herrings. The Macdougal
laboured under the hallucination that Scot-
land was the greatest and most virtuous
country in the world, and that she was
the biggest person that had ever issued from
it.
She had. the smallest and most contempt
tible opinion of Lady William Nettleship,
who was ' only the widow of an English
dnke'saon,' whereas the Macdougal main-
tained that all her ancestors had been kings.'
Indeed, these two ladies' claims to hi^h
birth and knowledge of each other's impe-
CQuiosity had made them deadly enemies,
and they could scarcely converse together
with politeness even in public. Next to the
Macdougal sat Miss Selina Farthingale,
whose position being low"* enough for
patronage, made her rather a favourite Mrith
Lady William's rival. She was a dark
woman, of fiveoraix and twenty, with aharp
pointed features and a cunning expreMion
which was unpleaaant to moat people. She
had little taate either, which waa evinced by
the profuae blonde trimminga on her lavender
ailk dreaia, and the acarlet geraniuma in her
hair. Miaa Selina had her admirem, how-
ever, and ahe fondly hoped that Sir Arthar
Chaaemore, who WM leaning over the^ back
of her chair, was one of them. But the
alactity with whioh the baronet left her lide
to rejoin Miaa Nettleahip, would have in-
a^ired Home doubts in the mind of an on-
biassed spectator.
' Dress cut a great deal too low,' remarked
the Macdougal in an unnatural whisper to
MisslStilina Farthingale, as Regina entered the
room. ' I ca' it indee-cent — positively in -
dee-cent.'
Misa Selina ahrugged her mottled ihoulders
out of her lavender silk dreaa, in expreiiioii
of her diaguat at aeeing Regina's.
' We musn't be too hard,' she wbiipereU
in the chief taineaa'a ear. 'The itnn may
have run short, you know.'
' Weel, she had better cut a yaird off hei-
train and soo it at the top, then,' grumbled
the elderly lady, whilst the clear Caimgorma
looked like dull fishes' eyes, viewed from
the background of her parohmentocoloored
neck.
' And now I auppoae you all want your
aupper 1' cried Mrs. Stingo, in her ooarse
voice ; ' so the sooner you get down to it the
better. Sir Arthur, give your arm to Mn.
Macdougal, and mind you help her to tha
best of all that's on the table. She never
says a word about mv suppers, but she pays
me the compliment of eating them, ai« every
one knows.'
' I fancy the Scotch constitution is lome-
what akin to that of the boa tribe, and can
lay in a month's provisions at a littinff,'
remarked Lady William, almost before the
Macdougal had disappeared.
' Now, Lady William, that's very spitefnl
of you ! No one's to blame for their poverty,
you know ; that's what I say. Colonel Croes*
man, will you escort Mrs. Runnymede to the
supper-room? There's a first*rate lot of
Madeia at the head of the table, Mrs.
Runnymede. I had it put out of the way of
the young ones on purpose. Now; I«dy
Wilpam, here's Mr. Stingo waiting to hand
you down — and Miss Selina will go with Mr.
Pennycuick.' And so Mrs. Stingo ran on
until all her crvests had disappear^,two and j
two, like Noah's animals going into the ark,
and take posaestion of the lapper-room. It {
THE ROOT or ALL ETlLi
WM evident thftt, however doll the evetaiog
h»d been, tbev enjoyed theniielvee here.
For A while nothing wm to be heard bat the
oUtter of knives and forki, and the ring of
glMeea and china, mixed with oooaaional re*
monatrancea from Mrs. Rannymede and vari-
ous other ladies, as the gentlemen insisted
upon refilling their glasses, which subsided
into murmurs ef pleasure, and trickling
iound,aa the liquor found its way down their
throats.
At last, thoufih all the world knew this
was what they had come for, Mrs. Stinso's
visitors felt compelled to rise, and then Mrs.
I Runnymede asked for a cab to be called, and
Lady William proposed they should all go
home tosether.
' Don^ let us accompany her to-nisht,'
whispered Begina to her mother, as Mrs.
Runnymede came laughing and talking loud-
ly nto the hall, with nor cloak half falling
off her shoulders, and her black eyes looking
boJ der than before.
' What nonsense ! What will you say
next 7' replied Lady William ; ' we must go
together, we are to share the cab. '
Regina shrunk backwards as her mother
I p aased with Mrs. Runnymede to the vehicle ;
nd when she had followed them, she sat
•ilent with an avertod face, until the cab
I reached their friends's house.
' Now, Ruunymede ! you must give me
Jonr share of the expense,' said Laidy Wil-
am, as she tried to extract the purse from
[that lady's hands. But Mrs. Runnymede
[was too sharp for her. She held her purse
[tightly, and made a calculation.
' Eigbteenpence for three,' she remarked,
I * so my share will be sixpence. '
' No such thing I it's ninepence at the very
ileast, 'ireplied Lady William. ' Its a beanti-
Ifnl night, and Regina and I would have
[walked home if it hadn't been for you.'
Mrs, Runnymede was still trying to solve
Ithis pnaile, when her friend snatohed a
ullin|; from her hand.
' This will do, 'she said ; 'you would have
1 to pav it if you had come by yourself, so
b's exactly the same thing.'
And before the other had time to expostu-
Ito, she found herself pushed out upon the
hvement in front of her own door, whilst
cab rolled away with Lady William and
ler daughter.
They lived in seoond-rato lodgings in
LUightsbridge, and when they arrived there,
lie inmatos oi the house had gone to rest.
[Regina crept as quickly as she could into the
{■itting-room, but her mother remained upon
[the door .stop for at least ton minutos whilst
*ie haggled with the cab-driver to accept
le amlling she had abstracted from Mra.
Eannymede as his entire fare, and he called
her by every name in his vocabulary fot
beins so 'tingy. At last the warfare tonnin-
by Lady William flinging the monejr into
the guttor, and slamming the door in tha
man's face. As she entered the sitting*
room, she saw her daughter seated at tM
table with her head in her hands.
* Why, what's the matter with you now,
Regina? I must say yon are very selfish ;
you never will help me in theae littlo
difficulties, and these wretohed cabmen are
growing more extortionate every day. Are
Jouiu!'
'No, mamma,' said the girl, as she raised
her heavv eyes, and cold, proud face to con-,
front Lady William.
' You look as white as a sheet I What was
Sir Arthur saying to you in the hall jaat
before the cab came T*
' He asked leave to call here to-morrow.
' I hope he is not going to propose to yon I'
exclaimed her mother, in real alarm. ' It
will be most awkward and iuoppnrtune if ht
does. Now, mind, Regina. what I said to
you. You must not commit yourself either
way.'
' I will remember it, mamma.'!,
' Really, I wish I had known of this before;
we would have said we were going out of
town for a week, and so put him off.'
'ForSelina Farthingale to make love to
in our absence,' rejoined Regina, with a
sneer. '
' Oh no, my dear ! that would never do.'
Well, I suppose it is all for the best ; but it's
a*oase that requires the neatest handling, aoid
if you make a mess of it, I'll never speak to
yon again-'
CHAPTER II.
' VO MOBK DKAD THAN YOU ARB.'
When Reginina Nettleship came down to
breakfast this morning, she was still iin>
decided as to what she should say in the
event of Sir Arthur Chasemome proposing to
her. She felt it was very likely he would
so. She had known him now for uix months,
during the whole of which time he had paid
her marked attention. But at the beginning
of their acquaintance he had been only plain
Arthur Cbasemore, with his profession aa a
barrister for a means of susistence, 'and she
had snubbed him in proportion. When he
inherited the baronetcy, and, as she and her
mother had fondly imagined, a fortune on
which to keep up his title, things looked
different, and Miss Nettleship . had encour-
aged the young man to an extent which
would fully justify him in believing she would
/
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
•uoepi hi« offer of ni»rriftffe And now, not*
wilbatanding Lady Willlftin'i ftdmonitioni,
tha ooald not make op her mind what to do.
Not that the loved Sir Arthur. She loved
no one in this world, ftod nothing, anlesi it
were the prospective ohanoe of » Ufe of eMe
and afHaence. She was sick of poverty.
She had been reared in an atmosphere of
falsohood and fraud, and in her ideas the
want of money* was associated with every
sort of evil. She saw the misery and dissen-
sion it had wrought with her mother aud her-
self. It was the want of money that had
soured Lady William's temper, and made
her stoop to wraof^le with her landladies
and cabmen, and to cheat her friends. It
was that which made her lie, and flatter, and
gmmble, until she had scarcely an amiable
quality left in her disposition.
It was this same want of money that com*
SBlled them to associate with people like the
tingos, who were so much beneath them in
poMition ; to submit to the insolence of the
Macdougal, and to be put on a par with
Selina Farthingale and her father. Regina
felt all this keenly. Notwithstanding their
poverty, she never forgot that she was the
grand-daughter of the Duke of Mudford,
and would have been married before now,
if she had not considered that her birth
should sell for a higher price in the matri-
monial market than had yet been offered for
it. Yet, if Sir Arthur Chasemore was not
a rich man, he had, at all events, the power
to take her away from all the surroundings
■he so much disliked, and to give her a
certain position as a baronet's wife. And
then were was the chances of his discover-
ing that his cousin was dead and of inherit-
ing his grandfather's fortune. It was very
puazliog to know what to do. As she
entered the dingy little sitting-room, the
windows of which looked as if they had not
been cleaned for a year, and encountered her
mother in a dirty cap and dressing-gown,
trying to decipher the morning's news
through her glassos. Regina shuddered.
How she longed to get away from it all, by
any means and with any one, so that she
need never be subjected again to the dis-
comfort she was enduring now I
Lady William glanced up scrutinisingly,
as her daughter entered. She was not quite
sure of the temper in which Regina had
parted with her tne night before.
' Yon don't look particularly tidy this
morning,' she said, as her eye fell on a
cmrapled muslin dress, with crumpled frills
about the neck sleeves.
' I dare say not 1 But if so, I am only in
keeping with the house. There is nothing
particularly tidy about it, or, I might say.
mamma, s'jont yourself,' replied Regina, as
she drew a dish of cold bacon towards her
and tried to get up an appetite for it.
' Well I it is useless to wear out one's
best things in the morning, when there is
no one to see them. But von will change
your dress, of oonne, before Sir Arthur
arrives T'
' Yes ; I suppose so.'
'Have you decided in what words to
reply to him in case he proposes to you ?'
•No.'
' Really, Regina, you seem to me to fly in
the face of providence. I pointed out to
you last night how essential it is not to dis<
miss this young man all at once, and how
delicate a task you have before you, and yet
yon tell me this morning that you have not
even thought what to say to him on the sub-
ject. The end of it will be that you will
refuse him before you know what you are
doing.'
' I don't think I shall I'
' You can never dream of accepting him,
under the eircumstanoes ?' gasped Lady
William, as her eyes and nose kept working
violently with her unusual emotion.
' I don't think I shall,' repeated Regina.
' But you ought to be sure : you ought to
have no thought upon the matter,' replied her
mother. ' A beggarly baronet, who has not
enough money to keep up his position, whilst
his cousin, Mr. Chasemore,muy be in London
to-morrow with fifty thousana pounds in his
pocket t You have no more idea of your own
value than that table has I'
' Look here, mamma, I don't want to
quarrol about this ; bub I mean to do exactly
as I choose. You are always holding up my
value to me, but what has it brought as yet T
At four-and-twenty I am still living in
these wretched lodgings with you — still in
the market in fact — aud I am sick of it
all.'
' That is right ; abuse your mother, who
has been doing her very best to get yoa
married for the last six years. Is it my
fault that you are still hefe ? See how I
scrimp and save, to take you out in society
where you may be seen aud appreciated ; and
what has come of it T— nothing.'
* A great deal too much, in my opinion,'
interrupted Regina. ' The acquaintance of
such women as Mrs. Runnymede and Miss
Farthingale, and obligations which we have
not the power of returning : I hate the whole
system of our life. Can you wonder I long
to escape from it T'
' This is gratitude I Pray go on ; I shal
not be at all surprised now to hear that yoa
have decided on cutting society altogether
TBI ROOT or ALL EVIL.
I and lahaitting henceforward on love in a
|c»ttiige.'
' I Rhould he very mach aarprieed to hear
lit DiyMlf. I ftm t«>o muoh yoar daughter for
Itbat. I have been bmaght up to believe in
but one evil— poverty ; in but one good —
wealth. I am not likely to forget the leieon
I DOW. '
Yet you propoee to marry Sir Arthur
|Chaa«-more ?'
' I never propoeed it ; I only mid I should
[do M I thought ht. I might have married
sfore thii, m»mm», if it had not been for
fOQ. But you have always ooniiidered your
iwn good rather thnn mine in the matt«r of
I lettlement for life. 1 don't think that ii
lir. You have had your day, mine is to
ime. If I can enrioh us both at the same
lime, well and good. If I can only relieve
Inyself from the burthen of poverty, you
|nnat not blame me for doing it.'
' Are you in love with this man T' de*
laaanded Ladv William.
Mine Np''tfeship'fl face as she answered the
inestion was a study.
• In love f she repeated scornfully , ' why,
|1 don't know what the words mean. I have
BU reared in povertv, and the frauds which
me seem inseparable from it ; and I want
I get into a purer atmosphere, where I shall
Inot be oompelled, for the sake of my dinner
lor the price of my cab. to cull men and wo-
Imen my friends whom otherwise I should be
■hamed to be aaaooiated with. That is
rhat I think of when I speak of marriage,
have a tolerable face and flgure, and I am
le grand-danghter of a duke. To some men
liese are advantages, and in exchange for
iem I demand liberty and a competence. I
for sale, in fact, for a certain price, and
I choose to lower it that is my business.
l£very merchant is allowed to cheapen his
■wares if he sees it ib for hia advantage to
|do so.'
'Oh, indeed I' replied Lady William pet-
Ushly ; ' that is all that you want, is it ?
"Tell, you should not find it difficult to suit
rourself at that rate ; and now, if you
lave finished your breakfast you had
Btter go and change your dreas. You would
dear, even at a couple of hundred a year,
you were caught looking auch a figure of
in as you do know.'
Regina took her mother's hint and left the
room. She really wanted to be alone for a
few hours, and think over what was beat to
done. Yet, when it was announced to her
lat afternuon that Sir Arthur Chasemore
ras waiting to see her in the drawing-room,
ihe had come to no decision as to how their
Bonveraation would terminate. The young
l>aronet had aeized the earliest opportunity to
pav his call, and as he attended Miss NettU*
ship's pleasure, he presented a very fair
piotnre of the average good«looktng English*
roan. He was of middle height and well
built, with brown hair and eyes, and a beard
and mouatache of which he was known to b«
inordinately vain. He was dressed in the
fashion also, for, notwithstanding Mrs. Par-
thingale's desire to make him out a very poor
man. Sir Arthur had an income sufficient to
keep himself a^ a gentleman and hia wife as
a lady, when he got her.
Nutwithatandiog these advantaees, how*
ever, theie was a hard look about the young
mai/a expression when he was annoyed, whiok
betoken ill for those who should offend
him seriously. His was not a diapoaition
to exeroiae the divine quality of forgivimess
easily, though few of his ordinary acquaint-
ances thought so. Im is as difficult for society
to ascertain what a man is, as it is for the
domestic circle to ignore what he is not.
When a lover ia courting, however, he
appears in hia happieat colours, and the
amile with which Sir Arthur turnod to
freet Retina's entrance was sweetness itself,
t even melted her for the moment, and
made her think how much pleasanter it was
to encounter than her motiier's snappish
questions or bitter sarcasm.
After a short conversation on the events of
the preceding evening, during which Miss
Nettleahip rallied her vitiitor on hia devotion
to Selina Farthingale, Sir Arthur summoned
up all his courage and dashed at once to tha
point.
' Mias Nettleship— Regina 1 I am snro
you must guess the motive which has brought
me here to-day. You must have seen the
feelings with which I have learned to regard
you. You cannot have known me for so
many months without reading something of
the inmost workings of my heart.'
' Really, Sir Arthur, I don't know what
you are talking about I '
She said it so naturally, and with snch a
pretty air of mystiHcation, that a bystander
would have been trapped into believing she
spoke the truth. And when she had finiahed
the sentence she fixed her blue eyes 'nquir*
ingly upon him as though waiting .or hii
explanation.
* Is it poaaible that you do not understand
me — that you do not know that the hope of
making you my wife haa (;;rown to be the
greateat desire of my life ? '
He had drawn nearer to her with the last
words, and tried to take her hand. But she
shrunk away from him.
• Your wife I Uh, Sir Arthur ! you cannot
think of what you are saying. '
' Cannot think of it ! Why, I think of
10
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
r i
nothing else by night and by day, and I
■hoald have spoken to yon long ago had my
time not been so much occapied by all thia
law busioess. Besides, I wanted to find out
exactly how I stood financially, before I
asked for this dear hand,'
'Indeed, Sir Arthur, you do not know
how little you are asking for. I am simply
penniless. I have no marriage portion, and
people cannot live upon nothing, you know. '
This she said in order that he might be
led iato stating exactly what {his own in-
come amounted to.
' I would not dream of dragging you
down into poverty for my sake. I love you
too well for that. But I have sufBicient for
as both, Regina. Part of my late grand-
father's property was entailed, and he was
compelled to leave it to his sons or their
heirs ; by which I, being an only child,
oame into my fathers p'trtion of five thou-
sand pounds. This, added to the proceeds
of my profession, which I hope may increase,
will yield us five or six. hundred a year, on
which I can at least keep yon in the same pos-
ition in which you hav« been brought up. It
is not wealth,my dearest RegiDa,but it is not
absolute beggary ; and if yoa love me as I
love you, I am sure we shall be very happy
together. What do you say to the pros-
p«j»'?'
' Sir Arthur ! you have taken me alto-
ge\;ber by surprise. Whatever I may '
' Oh, pray go on ! '
' Whatever I was going to say, I may
have foolishly thought about you, I never
believed you to be a marrying man ; and you
have set my braiu in a perfect whirl. I
cannot give you an answer without a little
reflection.'
' I suppose it is hardly to be expected,' he
said in a disappointed tone, ' though I made
sure you rr tst have seen what was coming.
But you can at least tell me if you love me,
Regina.'
'That would be telling you everything,'
she answered. 'That part of it requires
more consideration than all the rest. Sup'
pose we should make a mistake V
' Don't think of it. Surely we are old
Kjnough to know our own minds ? I am, at
ail events, for I was thirty last birthdav, and
no amount of consideration could alter my
feelings with regard to you. '
' It is such an important step to take,'
sighed Regina, as she played with the frills
ou her dress, and could not devise any means
by which to put off answering the fatal
question. Could she be contented on five
or six hundred a year T she thought to her-
self. Did it mean maids of all work, dirty
lodgings, and squalling children 7 She had
not had much experience in trying how far
money would go, but she was very much
afraid it did mean all that, in the fntnre, if
not now. And she shrank from the prospect.
She could not sell herself so cheap. Sir
Arthur attributed her silence to maidenly
modesty, and tried to set her at ease again.
' I have set my prospects before you in
their worst light,' he said presnntly. ' There
is another side to the question, though, as
yet, an uncertain one. Have yon ever nearcl
my Cousin Vivian Chasemore mentioned ?'
' Mr. Farthingale told us the story last
night. '
' Mr. Farthingale is very sanguine about
finding the poor boy again, but I fear he will
be disappointed.'
' Are you 1 Why ?'
Regina oould hardly help the suddenly
awakened interest becoming evident in her
voice, as she uttered these words :
' Because — but this is a secret, remember,
and I would tell it to no one but yourself. I
have received private intelligence thid morn-
ing which leads me to believe too certainly in
Lis death. Perhaps you do not know the
difference Lhis would make to me — may I say
to us ? Sir Peregrine left the bulk of his
fortune,fifty thousand pounds, to my cov^in
Vivian. It ought to have gone with thf: title
you know ; but he had the right of its
disposal, and so I cannot complain. But if
we receive the news of Vivian's death, or he
still continues missing after three years, the
money reverts to me. Of course, if the letter
I have received caii be verified, I shall come
into it at once. But though it will procure a
worthier case in which to shrine my jewel;
I trust that no fortune could have the power
to make any difference in your feelings to-
wards me, Regina.'
' Oh no 1 of course not.'
Fifty thousand pounds within his very
grasp ! It was not likely the letter had been
written only to deceive him. How she wished
he would confide to her from whom it had
come. But she could not let him go under
this uncertainty. At all hazards, she must
chain him to her side.
' You — you must be very anxious,' she
faltered ; ' but: I am afraid the sad news will
prove to be true. I thought it so strange,
from the first, that if Mr. Vivian Chasemore
were alive he shonld not have communicated
with any of his friends for so long.'
' So everybody says, but it did not do for
me to be too sanguine. For the last two
months the lawyers have been writing and
advertising in every direction, without suc-
cess. When I received the letter this morn-
ing, the description in which tallies in every i
respect with that of my poor cousin,! sent it
TUB AOOT OF ALL EVIL.
11
•t once to Farthingale, with orders to inquire
into the matter. It will be a great blow to
the little map's vanity to find he ii wrong
after all. He has been lo certain that Vivian
would turn up again.'
' Yea ; he aaid as much last eTenins. But
BO friend of yours, Sir Arthur, could wish
the rumour of your cousin's death to prove
untrue.'
' I care nothing for what my friends wish ;
I only want to know what you will say upon
the subject. Tell me, Regina, that whatever
happens to me, I shall still have the comfort
^ of your affection to fall back upon.'
He came round to the back of her chair,
I and leant pver her. He would not take an
i undecided answer for the second time. Miss
Nettleship felt she would have to say * Yes, '
r ' No,' now,
* Oh I Sir Arthur, cannot you gueaa ?' she
murmured.
* I dare not. Too great a stake depends
upon the issue. My ardent wishes might
lead me wrong. You must seal my fate with
j your own lips?
' Will you not give me till to-morrow ?'
' Not to say you love me. Your heart
I must tell you so much. Give me the assur-
lanoe that I am not indifferent to you, and I
I will promise to wait patiently for that which
[must follow it.'
' Indeed, you are not indifferent to me
[then. Were it so, I could have answered
I our question at once. But whnn a woman's
eart is concerned, you do not know the
liiHculty she finds in telling the truth.'
* Say no more, dearest. I understand it
ill. You have made me the happiest of
nen.'
At this juncture, the lodging-house servant
abruptly opened the door to announce Mr.
Tarthingale, and Sir Arthur Chasemore had
Hy just time to put a few feet of dis-
ice between himself and Misj Nettleship,
rhenthe little man came flyim; into the
(om.
' Eureka 1 Sir Arthur ! I was told I should
|nd you here. We have succeeded at last !'
exclaimed, as he flourished his hat and
ibrella over his head.
J 1 was afraid you would find it to be true,
Farthingale ; but the news, though ex-
Dted, is very shocking. When did the p jot
low die T' asked the baronet, in a tone of
oper sympathy.
' Die ! My dear Sir Arthur, he's no more
than you are I I've just been talking to
im ; that is to say, if you mean your cousin
ivian.'
' What about the letter, then ?'
I ' Oh, that letter you sent me this morning ?
Il've had no time to see after it, and it'g
lucky I didn't waste any on is. I found
news waiting me from another quarter when
I returned home last night, and I verified
it the first thing to<day. Your cousin, Mr.
Vivian Chasemore, is as hearty as you ara^
Sir Arthur, and at my house at the present
moment. Won't you come round and
himf
CHAPTER IIL
' I HATB TEB SIGHT OJ fOV.*
In one of the smaller streets running at the
back of Drury Lane stood the shop of old
Mrs. Bell, the greengrocer, and everybody in
those parts affirmed that it was ' a perfect
picture.' The front of it was open, with a
shelving board to display the fruit and vege-
tables; and when the carrots and turnips and
fresh, crisp salads, and the onions and
radishes and sea-kail were piled above each
other on one side and the apples and oranges,
and bunches of grapes and baskets of filberts,
were artistically grouped upon the other, to
say nothing of the strawberries and raspberries
and melone and figs that came and went in
their season, you could not hcve found a
more tempting little shop in the whole of
Drury Lane.
Mrs. Bell, too. added to the picture, for she
was a good old-fashioned country woman,
who looked, in her spotless cap and apron,
and her neat print dress, as if she ought to
have been standing in a dairy in Devonshire,
instead of a greengrocer's shop in a back
slum of London. But, when young, she had
followed the fortunes of a market-sardener^
and been a faithful wife and friend to hill
until he died, with never more than a passing
regret for the lanes and fields she had left
behind her. She had lost her husband now
for many years past, and her only son, and
her daughter-in-law; and would have carried
on the gr<~ ngrocery trade all by herself,
except fur her granddaughter, Mary Bell, or
Bonnie Bell, as she was familiarly called by
the neighbours, on account of her pretty
face.
Old Mra. Bell was wont to shake her head
ominously whenever that pretty face was
alluded to. It bad not been inherited from
her side of the family, and so she was in-
atiuctively opposed to it, and inclined to
believe that it would come to no good. For
Bonnie Bell's mother had been a little ballet-
girl from off the stage of Drury Lane Theatreu
as good and innocent a women as ever worked
bar I to prevent herself being a burthen on
her friehds, but still a great disappointment to
Mrs. Bell who had hoped to see her Joe bring
rrjrr.
12
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
I !
home an honest honBeniMd or dairy maid as
hia wife. Joe hadfposseased imall eyes, a wide
month and flapping eaTa, being the 'moral,'
as his mother affectionately said, 'of hia own
dear father ; 'oonseqnently, when little Bonnie
had made her appearance without the least
resemblance to Joe, Mrs. Bell had taken the
child's likeness to the ex-ballet girl as a per-
sonal affront. Even thoai^h the poor young
mother expiated her offence by dying, it was a
long time before Bonnie had been accepted as
a grand-child by Mrs. Bell ; but when both Joe
and his father went the way of all flesh, the
desolate woman's hearthad turned to the onlv
tie that was left her in this world, and had
oentered all its interests npon it since. Bonnie
was very pretty, but she was very strange
A casual observerver, seeing her stand in the
doorway of her grandmother's shop, with her
hands on her hips, and her eyes fixed on
vacancy, would have thought she was not
quite ripht in hermind. She was jost eighteen
and had i^ supple, well rounded figure of the
middle height He'- « omplexion was delicate
as a wild- rose leaf ; her light brown hair,
which was thick, and soft, and short, was
always in a 'fluffy ' condition ; her hands and
feet were shapely for her station in life. But
the most curious feature about Bonnie Bell
was the colour of her eyes : this was neither
blue nor grey, but a sort of mauve tint, like
the petals of a wood violet, and there was a
far-away dreamy look about the eyes them-
selves, that gave the girl an "uncanny '
appearance. The superstitions thought she
had the faculty of seeing spirits, but Bonnie
Bell would have frightened herself to death
over such a supposition. She knew she was
absent, because her grandmother was always
accusing her of ' wanderinst ;' but she would
have expierienced much difficulty in telling of
what her dreams were composed, when she
was not attending to her daily duties. She
only knew that she disliked the dull street
in which they lived, and longed to be a rich
lady, and able to go to strange countries
that she had seen before, and of which Mr.
Waverley had ssmetimes spoken to her.
Mr. Alfred Waverlevy was Mrs. Bell's
lodger, and to Bonnie fell, naturally, the
greater share of waiting on him. There
were some neat little rooms above the ereen-
grocer'a shop, and ever since the deaths of
her husband nnd son, Mrs. Bell had been in
the habit of letting; two of them to a single
man. After what has been written of her
di8ta<<te te the profession of Bonnie's mother,
it will sound surprising, perhaps, that she
should have let her rooms to an actor. But
'beggars cannot be choosers,' as the old wom-
an was fond of saying ; and ' to have a play,
actor ' sleeping in your spare bed, and to have
him a calling yon ' mother,' is two rery diff«
erent things.' Besides, this ' pIay«aotor ' was
very seldom at home, and was oonseqnently
little trouble. Mrs. Bell's first floor was let at
a very moderate rental ; and the young gentle-
man retained it for the purpose of Keeping
hia hooka and the larger half of his wardrobe
there^ whilst he i -availed about the provin-
ces in the pursuit of his profession. He often
visited London, though. Whenever he had
a spare day and found himself sufficiently
near to render it worth while, he would burst
into the greengrocer's shop and tear np^ to
hia rooma without any warning, bringing
Mra. Bell'a 'heart into her month' with
ordering ham and eggs and beefsteaks to be
cooked just aa ahe was sitting down to a
comfortable cup of tea. Mr. AJfred Waverley,
however, was a gentleman, and his landlady
recognised the fact and served him all the
better for it. He never swore an oath at
her, nor took a liberty with Bonnie ; and she
was disposed to look with more lenient eyes
on the whole dramatic profession for his
sake.
• If they was only all like Mr. Waverley/
she would say, 'I ahonld withdraw niy
opinion of the theatre altogether.'
Mrs. Bell'a customers did not, as a mie^
lie amongst she upper classes, but she was
obliged to be all the more particular con*
cerning the goods she vended on that
account. The aervantsi of the rich will buy
anything, particularly when they get a per«
centasre on all the stale vegetables consumed
in their master's kitchen ; but it is not an
easy task to cheat the poor who market for
themselves. Mrs. Bell's cabbages and carrots
and turnips had to be of the freshest, or hes
customers rejected them with scorn. And
no one supplied hei- better than Kit Masters,
who took his cart into Gov cnt Garden Market
each morning, buying up the cheapest nnd
best of everything, and had disposed of his
whole stock-in-trade to the smaller green-
grocers of the town before the afternoon.
Mrs. Bell always attended to|the stocking
of the shop herself. Bonnie was ' a deal too
daft and dreamy' to be entrusted to choose
fruit or purchase vegetables.
' La, bless ye ! Kit Masters,' she cried, on
one of these mornings in June of which I
write, as she appeared on the threshold of
her domains, shading the sun from her
eyes : ' here's a picture of fruit ! Well, I
never did see such strawberries 1 Queen's,
aren't they ? Why,each berry's as perfect as
my emery cushin. And is them figs you've
got in a'ready T Bleaa me ! they is early.
But they won't do for me, Kit, My custo-
mers can't nfford to look at 'em yet ; and
them raspberries I got yesterday, I was ob« '
THK ROOT OF ALL SVIU
18
ligwi to let go at » dead loM. Why they'd
[■ank half'way dowh the bavket before night.
IfWe mart hare another aaok of them taten »
! King's Regents— the same as afore. They're
^nal good ; I haven't heard a complaint of
'em. Jnrt hand me down a doaen bnnches
[of wallflowen, and a few mou-roeee, will
K? Bonnie makes 'em np lo neat for the
tton-hole. They Mem to take wonderful
; with the genti of an evening.'
' Aye, ave, miaani ; and how's Bonnie V
[•aid Kit Masters.
■ Sbe's fairly, thank ye ; mopes a bit. yon
low, but that was allays her way. She
I't over and above strong.
' Ah I she ought to 'ave a good 'uaband to
after 'er ; that's what Bonnie wants, in
ly opinion. Some one as could take 'er
ll)ont a bit,as it might be in my cart; and let
[her see the world. I fancy it must be dull
[for a young gal^ 'biding in this street all
[day.'
' May be 1 I never found it dull, Kit
iMasters ; but then I don't come of a theatre
lother. That's been the ruin of Bonnie, to
|lny thinking. The blood will come out, you
low, and she don't seem to have a mind to
Bttle down to anything.'
' That's nonsense, lagging your pardon,
[Mrs. Bell. The gal wiU settle down fast
[enoogh, when she's married. Could I be
speaking a word with you in the back parlour
WW?'
' III course Kit. Come in and have a glass
oi beer. You're allays welcome, as I needn't
Bll ye.'
The old woman withdrew into the back
rlour, which was a tiny three-cornered room
irtitioned off from the shop, and Kit Masters
kving siven his horse the order to stand,
allowed her there and drank the glass of ale
le proffered him.
'Thank ;^e kindly, ma'am,' he said, as he
'iw the cuff of his velveteen sleeve across
mouth. 'And now what I want to say
you is this. I never was a man of many
rords, and so you'll excuse abruptness , but I
"ces Bonnie, and I've a mind to marry her,
you says ' Amen ' to the banns.'
As he stood opposite to Mrs. Bell he
Bmed a man well-to-do enough, but terribly
»arse, as a oostermonger naturally would be.
[e had not bad features, but they were over*
st by a look of animalism that quite obliter-
Ited their beauty, and he evidently had not
soul above onions aud potatoes. He was
ubstantially dressed in corduroy trousers and
relveteen coat and waistcoat, and he wore a
Brimson silk necktie and a rose in his button-
hole. He had not shaved that morning, or
srhaps the morning before ; but, taken all in
I. he was a very fair specimen of the sort of
lover a greengrocer's sranddaoghtcr might
hope to attract Mrs. Bell did not appear al
all overcome by the Bnddennesa| of Kit's
announcement. Perhaps ahe had ezpeoted
it. Perhaps it was not the first time that
soma one had oome wooing after Bonnie
BeU.
'Well, Kit Masters, 'she replied, ' Isuppoae
you makes enough to keep her, and it'f at I
as would raise an objection to the marriaga :
but Bonnie is not like other girls — there's no
denying she's a bit queer in her thouffhts and
ways, and I'm not over sure as shexl make
you a good wife.'
' I'll take my chmoce of that,' replied the
oostermonger, with a look that said he'd
like to see the woman he oould'nt master ;
'so it needn't be no obstacle. As to my
means, I never makes less than two pound a
weeK, come rain or shine, and if that ain't
enough to keep her like a lady, I don't know
what is.'
' Lor' i it's ample, Kit Masters, and she
may think herself lucky to get it/ I wiah I
was sure cf allays making half that money.
I'd call myself a rich woman. But you've no
shop to pay the rent on, that's where it is.'
' True for you, missus ; but I keeps my
horse and sart, you see, and Bonnie conld
have a ride with me every day of her life.
She'd be gay enough spending her time
riding about town, and seeing hacrobats and
Punch and Judies and whatnot at every
comer. So, if you can settle the matter with
her, well and good, and I'm ready us soon as
she may be.'
' La, no, man ! If there's to be any cooit*
in' atween you, you must do it yourself. I
can't undertake *'-o do nothin' with Bfmnie,
for she's a queer- f angled one, as I said be-
fore, and has allays been minded to have her
own way. But if you can bring her round
to your thinking, I shan't make any bobbery
about it.'
'But I never seem to have a chance of
seeing her,' remarked Kit Master, ruefully,
as he scratched his head. ' I don't know if
it's done a purpose ; but she's never in the
way when I come of a momin.'
' Well, that's my doing', and no one's fault
'oept her own. She's so main silly, I can't
trust 'er to buy notbin' but it's sure to b«
wrong. So I sets her to work upstairs
instead. However, you've got the orders
for this morning, so, if this affair ain't drove
them out of your head again, I'll just step
up and send her down to help carry 'em in
with ye. So sood-day. Kit Masters, and
good luck to ye,' concluded Mrs. Bell, as she
asoended to the upper storey.
In a few minutes Bonnie appeared in the
shop, ready to help Kit with the vegetable!.
I4
THE ROOT OF ALL BTIL.
ShewM looking very lovely th»t morning.
The Mft Jane sir and gentle heat bad sent a
warmer flash into her cheeks and her eyes
were like a snmmer's sky, seen through the
pnrple mist of a coming shower. She smiled
I^easantly hat vaguely at the amoroas ooster*
monger, as she stood in the open doorway
with oatstretohed hands ready to receive the
sjrtioles that should be handed down to her.
fiat Kit was in too gallant a mood to permit
Bonnie to do any hard work. If he placed a
oabbage.in her hands he followed her into the
shop to see where she disposed of it, and
preued up so closely against her as to extract
a reprimand from her lips.
'What are yoa shoving me for in that
way. Kit Masters ! ' she demanded sharply.
* Oan't you keep your {distance 7 I don't
want you to tell me where to plaof the
things.'
* But if I likes to do it, is there any harm,
Bonnie ? '
* Tes ; a deal, if you want to know. The
shop ain't so big that there's room for more
than's needed in it, so if you'll keep outside,
you will be doing me a service.'
*Why do you speak so unkind to me,
Bonnie?'
* I don't know what I says is unkind. I've
got my business to do, and you've got youi^.
Suppose we each sticks to our own.'
' Ah I but I've got some business inside as
p'r'aps you don't guess on. Your mother do,
though. She and I have been talkin' it
over together, and she says if you're agree«
able, so is she.'
'That's all right then ; if you and grand-
mother gets on so well together, there's no
need for nothin' more to be said on the
matter. It don't concern me,whatever it is.
that's certain.'
'But it do concern you, Bonnie, more than
anybody, except.'
' Oh 1 do it ? Well, just hand in them
potatoes, will you ? I've got my upstairs
rooms to clean yet, and can't waste all my
momin' talking here to you.'
Kit scratched his head again with per-
plexity, as he noticed the girl's complete
indi£feience to him, and wondered by what
means he should make her listen to his suit.
In another minute he scaggered into the shop,
Huder the burthen of a sack of potatoes.
' Well, they're main heavy, 'he said, wiping
his forehead with a bright cotton handker-
chief. ' It's real summer weather now, ain't
it, Bonnie ? Don't you sometimes think ef
the river and the green fields, and hr w plea-
sant it would be to sit down alongside of
'em?'
' Aye, that I do I' replied the girl, with the
dreamy far-away look in her eyes, ' and wish
ever so muoh I could leave this horrid street;
with its noise and olatter and nasty smells.
How beantif nl it must be in the fields now^
with the batteronps and daisies I Lor' i I
think sometimes if I was took there, I shoold
die of pleasure.'
'Ko, you wouldn't, Bonnie!' exolaimad
Kit, eagerly ; ' you'd feel ever so much better
for the smell of the flowers and the sight of
the water. I'll take you there, my gal, if
you'll come along o' me. My work's over by
three o'clock, and if you'll only say the word
I'll get a fresh 'oss and drive you over to
Richmond or some of them places, this very
artemoon. Will yon come, Bonnie ?'
' No, I don't want to go along of yon i
replied the girl, decidedly. ' Hand in them
strawberries, Kit, and the flowers, and look
sharp about it, for I want to back to grand-
mother.'
'Why, one would think my cart would
Kison you, to judge by your looks,' said
[asters, indignantlv. ' You might give a
civil answer, I should think, to a civil offer.
'Tain't every gal as would say " no" to a
ride in my cart, I can tell ye.'
' Why don't you take 'em then f was the
quick rej )inder. 'It would be a pity to
wastes your rides on them as don't want
'em.'
'Won't nothing I can say soften your
heart, Bonnie ?' he asked, as he placed the
final order on the counter.
'I don't know as it wants softening.
Grandmother says I'm a deal to "soft"
a'ready.'
' Aye 1 but not in the right way. It's a
sweetheart you wants to soften your heart ; a
sweetheart such as I'd be to you.'
' You my sweetheart I' exclaimed the eirl
reddening. ' Get along ! you don't know
what you're talking on.'
' But I do, and your grandmother know it
too, and she wants us to be sweethearts,
Bonnie, and to be married into the bargain.
Come now ! What do you say to that ?'
' Us to be sweethearts I' repeated Bonnie,
contemptuously. ' That would be a pretty
muddle. Why, I hates the sight of you 1'
* Oh, you hates the sight of me, do you !'
cried Kit, becoming coarse as he became
natural ; 'and you thinks our sweethearting
would be a pretty muddle i You wants a
lesson taught you, my beauty, and I'il teach
it you too, before you're a minute older.'
And leaping over the little counter. Kit
Masters seized Bonnie Bell in his rougk
embrace, and implanted several kisses on
her bloomine cheek.
If he had tried to murder her, she could
hardly have shrieked louder; She struggled
violently to free herself from the hold of the
TAB BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
15
1 then f was th«
Id be ft pity to
i as don't want
[«Mlermonger, and ae lOon as she had ffuned
~ • command of her hands the inflioted
. reral hard blows — as hard as ever she oo^ld
ive them— npoh his face with her open palm,
the passers-by heurd the noise, but thought
{aothiog of it. The cries of drunken women,
'le screams of children ,and the oaths of men
sounds too common in the back street
J attract attention. If they had elanced into
leopeo shop and seen a pretty gin stmggiing
the arms of a man, thev would only uaTe
led to themselves and passed on. Kit
Bra laughed at the impotenoy of the
»ws which were showered upon him, but
cheek burnt under the insult they con-
/ed nevertheless. Bonnie's hand was not
ight one. She was no delicate nymph, this
raghter of the people, although her appear-
ice was more refined than that of the
Bnerijity of her class. But she screamed as
she had gone mad. Her purplish eyes
imed black as a thunder*cloud with passion,
id as soonas she was free she rushed from
le shop and rau upstairs. The costermoneer
ot into his cart and drove rapidbjr away. He
id not care to make his discomfiture patent
the neighbourhood. And Bonnie was
Bt at the head of the stain by Mrs. Bell,
rho was all anxiety to learn tiie reason of
lie discord.
' La, child ! has a wopa or any of them
lasty insecks got among the fruit and stung
re ? I declare you've give me sioh a turn, I
b1 as if my insides was going round What-
rer on earth can be the matter ?
' He kissed me, grandmother — that brute
»wnstairs — he dared to kiss me !' panted
Dnnie, as she burst into a flood of tears.
•La! and is that all? Well, I never!
Bre's a work about nothing ! I thought at
le very least that you was badly hurted.
lads didn't make sich a fuss over a kiss when
. was young. But I suppose the lad hadn't
' hved this morning, and your ladyship's
leek is too delicate to bear the touch of his
zh chin. La's me ! what '11 ye come to ?'
Be shan't do it again !' exclaimed Bonnie,
^th the exasperation of a little tigress, as she
sw to the bedroom and dashed cold water
rer her face and head. ' Kit Masters had
tter try it on again with me — that's all.
I's blood, and not water,I'll washitout with
ixt time. I hate him,and I'll kill him— I'U
him if ever he dares lay a finger on me
kin!'
'I believe you're stark staring mad,' said
Br grandmother, angrily. ' The man's an
llonest man enough. If you don't want to
larry him, there's no one to force you to it ;
l>ut you needn't go en raving as if he'd tried
murder ye.'
'It's worse than murder, a deal,' cried the
sirl, with her eyes still biasing. ' I shouldn't
feel nothing of that when 'twas once over ;
but I dont think my face will ever seem the
same to me again, now's he's touched it.'
' Lord hft' meroy on us I Yon''re a bora
fool I' said Mrs. Biell,as she turned sway and
went downstain, out of all patience with her
extraordinary ffraadchild.
Left to hersdf , all the passion faded out
of Bonnie's face, leaving it a deadly white
tostead. She halted for a minute when her
iprandmother had parted with her, gazing
into vacancy.
'I wonder if I am mad,' she whispered, in
a half-frightened voice. ' I wonder if I shall
go wild s<ime dav, all of a sudden, and bite
arandmother and the rest of 'em. I don't
fancy as I shall, but I know what would drive
me to it sooner than anything else, and that
would be biding along of Kit Masters. But
it feels bad to be as I've been — very, very
bad ; and it makrs me cold, too, just as if the
sun had gone in and the rain was a-coming.'
She shivered slightly as she spoke, and
passing into the next room, which belonged
to their lodger, resumed the work of sweeping
and dusting, in which she had been inter-
rupted. It was a very plainly furnished little
apartment, but neat and clean. The white-
washed walls were decorated with a lot of
prints cut from the illustrated papers, which
Alfred Waverley had coloured and stuck there
himself. There was a considerable amount
of artistic taste shown in the arrangement of
the subjects, which, in Bonnie's eyes, formed
a regular picture gallery. There were rep-
resentations of Romata and Spanish fruit and
water-carriers, of foreign landscapes, of balls
given at the Queen's palace, of races, and
royal weddings, and all sorts of wonderful
things that Bonnie had only dreamt of.
But she seemed to know tdl about them
from the pictures, before which she had so
often stood with Mr. Waverley, whilst he
attempted to describe the scenes they depicted
to her. She wati accustomed to stand oefore
those same pictures in his absence, and
repeat to herself what he had said concerning
them, like a little child conning over its
lessop, until her grandmother told her to
' leave o£f.that muttering ' and take her part
in the domestic duties of the house.
In one corner of the lodger's room stood an
old portmanteau, which had evidently been
an expensive article when new, though it had
done good service by that time. There had
been initials or a name stamped into the
leathern cover, but the letters nad been cut
away with a penknife, leaving an unsightly
blemish. An iron-bedstead, washing-stand,
and chest of drawers, completed the furniture
of the apartment. Thoy were all as bright
16
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
u elbow-greaae coald in»ke them,y«t Bonoie
kept rubbiag them mechanioaUy with the
duatar she held io her h«nd,M if her thoaghte
had travelled far away from her grandmother '■
tirst floor. Ooce, aa she had dusted the old
portmanteau for about the twentieth time, ihe
stooped and kissed its ugly, hard, disfigured
leathern lid. She was creeping round the
roam again in her vague uncertain manner,
when a sharp call from below sent the rich
blood mantling to her cheek. Bonnie had
awakened from her dream. The duster
dropped from her hand, and she moved
rapidly to the head of the staircase.
' Do you want me, grandmother ?'
' I course I wants you I What else should
I call your name for ? Here, come down
quick I there's a gentleman waititg to speak
CO you.'
CHAPTER IV,
' YOU ARE A KICH MAN, MB. VIVIAN.'
' A gentleman waiting to speak to her !'
Could it be Mr. Waverley, who had
returned unexpectedly, as he so frequently
did 1 In another mouient Bonnie's apron
was off, her cotton sleeves were unrolled to
her wrists, and she had descended to the
level of the shop. But the visitor who
waited her there was not Alfred Waverley :
he was a complete stranger, and he had
evidently come on business, as her grand-
mother had given him a seat in the back par*
lour.
* Bonnie,' exclaimed Mrs. Bell, as soon «8
the girl made her appearance, ' do you know
when Mr. Waverley will be 'ome again ? '
'I — ,' stammered Bonnie ; ' how should I
tell, grandmother? You know how he
cornea and goes, just for all the world like
lightning.'
' I suppose that this young lady,' observ-
ed the stranger, deferentially, ' sees a good
deal of the youns gentleman in question T '
He was a foxy little man in appearance,
with the eye of a hawk, and the nose of a
weasel, and a gener<4l look of extreme cun-
ning about him. Ha was, in fact, the law-
yer, Mr. RufuB Farthingale.
' Well, sir,' replied Mrs. Bell, apologetic-
ally, ' you see she waits on his rooms, and
so forth. I'm not so young as I was, sir.
I've buried my husband for fifteen years,
and I begin to feel the stairs terrible. In-
deed, if it wasn't for Mary here, who's my
granddaughter, I couldn't stand* the trouble
and fatigue of a lodger ; but she carries up
his trays and makes his bed, and, naterally,
sees and hearu -uore of him than I do.'
' Exactly, I quite understand ; and so I
perhaps Miss Mary will be able to afford oil
the due that we require.'
Bonnie slanoed at Mrs. Bell with an air of I
complete bewilderment She did not under. I
stand what Mr. Farthingale was talking
about
' Speak up i ' cried her grandmother, {
sharply.
' What am I to say? ' she uttered, with I
her most absMt look and manner.
' La bless me I I've no patience with yon. I
Why, you're to answer this gentleman'ij
questions, to be sure. '
' I have reason to believe,' commenced the|
lawyer, ' that vour lodger is staying here un*
der an assumed name, and I want you to tell me I
all you can about him. Tell me everything f
you can think of, never mind how trivial
the smallest oiroumstaoceb are sometimes of I
importance. For instanoe, how long haa he|
been away this time T'
'Is it anything to huct himt' demanded]
Bonnie, slowly.
' Bless the gal I do this gentleman look I
like a murderer ?' cried Mrs. Bell, who had!
already been promised a handsome bonus byj
Mr. Farthingale, if she would aid him in hiil
search. * But I can answer for that question,]
sir. Mr. Waverley 's bin away from London |
now nigh upon seven weeks.'
"Twill be eight weeks to-morrow,' inter-
rupted Bonnie, eagerly.
* This young lady has an excellt, \ memory,'!
observed the lawyer. 'Did he tell yon(
where he was going, Miss Mary T'
' No, sir ; but I can guess where he is.'
'Will you have the goodness to tell me, I
thenr
If you'll tell me your business with 'im.'
At this show of independence on Bonnie's I
pr.rt, Mrs. Bell was properly indignant.
'Well, I never ! where's your manners?!
Is that the way to speak to a rale gentleman?!
Take them hands of yours out of your pock'
ets, Bonnie, and answer as you're told.' And!
then she continued in a lowsr key, ' Yoal
must please to excuse 'er, sir, for she's not|
over strong in her head, poor thing t'
' I'm strong enough to keep my mouth shut I
till I hear why I am to open it, replied Bon,|
nie, stoti'y.
M 'But I am quite ready to satisfy you
curiosity,' said Mr. Farthingale ; ' you've no I
need of euspicion, I can assure you.' I have!
very good news for Mr. Waverley, should he I
prove to be the gentleman 1 believe him to I
be ; and the greatest kindness his friends can I
do him, id to give me every information where j
he can be found.' I
'Good news is it, sir?' sdd Bonnie. I
* Then he's sure to be round again to hear it I
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
17
1^ himt' demanded I
himself before long. I know nothing
out wher« he's gone to.'
'Why, Bonnier exoUimed her gnund*
Dther, 'I remember yon telling me the
kme of the place the very day Mr.Waverley
ft ne, only it's gone out of my head. And
idn't you send hie clean collar arter 'in in
> parcel T' Yon muit know were he's gone
The lawyer thought to himself, ' Eithf r the
rl is ignorant, or she is obstinate*' He
Dked in her face and decided it waa the
Br.
[< Perhaps Miss Mary will be able to re-
iber if we give her time,' he said.
I' No! I can't remember nothing about it.
h gone clear out of my head, like it has out
fgrandmuther's.
I * Well, well I don't trouble yourself on the
hitter,' replied the lawyer, with professional
'icy. ' If Mr. Waverley is the person I
le him to be, he will be only too glad to
id me his own address, as soon as his
iundfl let him know I require it. Can you
3ribed him to me ?'
I* Oh ! he's beautiful I' cried Bonnie, eager*
* His 'air as bl</ck as night,and so be his
a'most ; and he's got very slim feet and
jids, and so soft Bkin without any 'air on
I and his is teeth as white as milk, and
[* 'Art alive {' exclaimed Mrs. Boll; who had
Bn liatenioing with an open mouth to this
ude, ' I never thought 'ira 'alf as 'andsome
\X\xvl% I If you'd asked me, sir, I should
10 said 'e was a personable young man
fiogh, with ^ark eyes and 'air, and a
kteel figger — but that's all.'
Ah I ladies' opinions often differ on such
^]ecta,bnt your information is equally valu-
|e. And now. Miss Mary,' continued the
iryer, after having made sundry notes in his
iket-book, ' as yon have the care of Mr.
^verley's rooms, can you allow me to look
ind them for a moment 7'
I Grandmother,' said Bonnie, seriously,
iem rooms is in our charge^ you know, and
>n't see as we've the right of showing 'em
{[trangers.*
^hy, it can't 'urt 'em for the gentleman
walk round. He won't touch | noth-
fou may take my word for it, I will not;
ct,I should wish you both to accompany
I whilst I make my tour of inspection.'
iNothing can be fairer than that,' quoth
ni. Bell, as she preceded the visitor and
' granddaughter up the stairs.
The bedroom was entered first. There
J positively nothing to look at there, except
t old portmanteau, which Mr. Farthingale
-lined carefully, bnt waa quite oasnooeu*
fal in hii attempt to decipher what initiab
had orif|<na)ly been 8tan<ped upon it.
The Bitting«room seemed equally void of
any proofa of the identity of its owner.
Every artiole of oonseqnence had been care*
fully stowed awav in the cupboards when
Mr. Waverley leftthem,aad even thempor*
tanoe of his search could not 'have justified
the lawyer in breaking the sanctity of look
and key.
' Them be his books,' said Mrs. Bell, with
an air of contempt, as she pointed to a pile
of those small pamphlets stitched in fawn
and blue colored u wrappers which are so
familiar to theatrical eyes. ' You know, per*
haps, sir, that the poor young sentleman if
nothing eut a play-Actor, and I hope yua
won't think the worse of me and Mary for
letting the rooms to 'ira ; but I'vu allays
thought somehow as he'd bin misfortunato
in his anteriors, and it has never bin my plan
to be '%rd on them as has come down in their
living.'
' It does you honour, madam,' replied Mr.
Farthingale, as he opened the tiy-leaf of eaoh
play-book successively. But no name met
his eye except that of Alfred Waverley. It
was evident that if the young man were
living under an assumed title he was deter-
mine*! to keep it.
' Well 1 I am really much obliged to yon
for the trouble you've taken, but I can't
make out anything from all this, ' he said at
last, as he slipped something into Mrs. Bell'a
hand, and turned to quit the room. ' Hullo 1
what's that?'
He was pointing to a very indistinct and
badly-executed photograph of a statue of
Psyche, that was stuck carelessly in the
frame of a common engraving.
' You musn't touch that, sir 1' exclaimed
Bonnie, with needless caution.
' Oh 1 it belongs to Mr. Alfred Waverley,
then ? Did he bring it here with him ?'
' Yes, sir,' replied the old woman, ' and
he's got a lot more of faces, and sioh like^
locked away in his portmantle.'
' Ah, indeed 1 — I'd swear that's a specimok!
of the old general's bad photography,' .a»id
Mr. Farthingale to himself, as he examined
the faded picture ; ' and if I'm not greatly
mistaken, that cast of Pscyche stood on the
landing in their house in Pnrtman Square. I
believe my unknown informant is oorreot*
and that I've hit the right nail on tne head
at last. — Perhaps you've thoueht of the
place where Mr, W.,verley went by this
time ?' he continued to Bonnie.
' No, 1 haven't 1' leturned the girl, almost
sullenly.
The lawyer exchanged glances of inteUU
genoe with Mia. fiell.
•Manna
18
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
i i<
* Trv and set it oat of htr,' he whispered,
'and I'll Ipok in Mwin ihis afternoon to hear
if yoa've raooeeded.'
f[e gave the looee money in hii waistcoat
pocket a ugoificant rattle as he ooncladed,
and bidding the two women 'Good-morning/
hastily left them to thebiselves.
* Well, of all the obstinacy I ever see or
hearrl of,' exolaimed Mrs. Bell, as soon as he
was gone, ' this beats it. Bonnie ! I'm as
sure you knows the name of that place as that
I sits here ; but shaking wouldn't get it out
of you if you're se inclined. Why couldn't
you give the gentleman a straisht answer ?
It's the loss of sovereisns to me.
' Sovereigns 1, cried the girl, contemptu-
ously, 'what's sovereigns compared to his
safety ? How do you know what that foxy-
faced old rat wanted of Mr. Waverley ?
F'r'aps he meant to put him in prison. How
Would you feel then if I'd given up the name
of the place he's hiding iu T'
* Nonsense I Didn't ye hear 'im say 'twas
good news he'd got for 'im. '
' 1 must do more than hear before I be-
trays 'im. Is it likely an old fellow like that
would come sniffing about these rooms for
any good V
* 1 can't say, but if Mr Waverley does owe
money, he should pay i :, that's all. I've
allays bin honest myse : , and I don't 'old
with folks as isn't.'
' Who dares to say 'e isn't honest ?' cried
Bonnie, flariug up in defence of the absent.
' La ! you've uo call to fly at me in that
fashin. Yon was the first to think this
gentleman had come to take 'im up. But my
opinion's this, l.at if Mr. Waverley is the
gentleman we takes 'im to be ,
'What then?' demanded a joyous voice
from the landing, and in another moment
Alfred Wavorley himself, carrying a little
black bag in his hand, burst into the room
and confronted them.
Mrs. Bell, not knowing how much of her
conversation concerning him had been over-
heard, gave a little shriek of surprise and
consternation at his unexpected appearance ;
but Bonnie turned as white as a sheet, and
trembled violently all over.
'Talk of an angel, you eee, Mrs. Bell, and
you're sure to hear the rustling of his wings,'
exolaimed the lodger, as he threw down his
bng and umbrella, and divested himself of
his dust-coat.
He was a very handsome man, and pos-
sessed a face full of varying expression and
passionate energy. His dark hair was brush-
ed back o£f a broad forehead, in which the
anterior lobes were well developed; his
dark grey eyes were fringed with black
Ushes ; and a small moustache, ^hioh had
evidently not long been permitted to grow,
shaded his upper lip. He looked like a man
whose feelings would be qaioltly anl pow-
erfully excited, and might as suddenly fade
away.
He was glowing as a southern sky without
the ever-present sun hid behind the clouds,
for the lines of his mouth betrayed a deter-
mination which went far to neutraliee the
softness of his eyes.
' Blerss roe I Mr. Waverley I yon ave took
us of a suddent this time. Wherever 'ave
you sprung from, sir?'
' Why, Birmingham, to. be snre. My tim<;
was up there yesterday, and I go to Swansea
on Monday. Bonnie knew my address. '
'There now! I said as much,' exclaimed
Mrs. Bell, shaking her finger at Bonnie.
' Oh, you obstinate little creetur I '
' Wh%t has Bonnie been obstinate about ? '
demanded Alfred V^'averley, looking kindly
at the girl. ' Bonnie, you haven't said ' how
d'ye do? to me vet,' he continued, as he
offered her his hand.
The one she gave him in return was cold as
death.
' I hope there's nothing wrong |' said the
young man, as he looked from Mrs. Boll to
her granddaughter.
' No, sir, nothinc to speak of ; only there's
bin a gennelman nere this morning askin'
arter you, and wanting your ad<lreas, And
nothing on earth would make this gal give
up the place you was a-stoppin' at. '
' Oh, that's a mistake, Bonnie ! You must
always let people know where I am staying.
It might be a manager, you know, who wanted
to give me work.'
' This wasn't a manager,' replied Bonnii ,
shaking her head. ' He was a nastydookin'
chap — summat in the law, I fancy — and I was I
afraid he might take your goods, sir, or do I
some malice of that sort.'
Alfred Waverley burst out laughing.
'He wouldn't find much ot satisfy him|
here, Bonnie. A couple of dozen old play-
books, and a portmanteau full of worn-outl
linen. But you needn't be afraid anotherl
time. I don't owe a man a shilling, and nol
one would come asking for me here whol
wasn't my friend . ' j
'That's just what the gentleman said, sir/i
interposed Mrs. Bell, eagerly ; ' and 'e's gotj
the very best of news for ye — summat that's
very good indeed — and 'e said as noon asi
ever you 'eard who 'e was, you'd send your|
address immediate, and be glad to.'
'Good news for me,' repeated Alfred]
Waverley, gravely. ' What on earth can he|
mean ? How did he ask for me ?'
' He walked into the shop, jist like anjl
other mortial, sir, and asked downright forT
I
I "w~-
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
It
return waa cold as
out laughing. ,
auoh ot satisfy mm
of dozen old play I
I full of worn-outi
H be afraid anotberl
a a shilUng, and nol
for me here whol
gentleman said, sir, I
ferly;'andV8H
ye — Bummat tnat sf
'e said as coon w
..as, you'd send yourl
Ibegladto.' f
■,' repeated Alfred
/hat on earth can be]
J. for me?' ,
|e shop, }wt 1»^« '■fi
tasked downright m
ir Halfrad Wararley. And as 'e couldn't
•t your addreM out of this gal, 'e said 'e'd
•k ia amn by-and.by to see if I had cAlled
to mind myself.'
* Oh, rery good,' said her lodger, looking
ieved at her statement. ' I shall be rery
to see the gentleman when he oalla
_Mn ; but unless he's a manager, or one of
ry old pals, I can't imagine what he can
sntwith me. And now, my good Mrs.
bU, will you send me up a chop, or some
"KlandQheese, or anything you've got in
house T for I'm starring. ~
* Bonnie, vou cut over to the butcher's and
i a chop for Mr. Waverley, and then lay
cloth as quick as you can, while I cooks
I
Bonnie did not require a second bidding,
he finest ohoo in the butcher's shop was
ling on the gridiron in another five
inutes, and she was demurely preparing
lie table in the lodger's room for its recep-
' fionnie,' said Alfred Waverley, 'why
ere you so afraid to give that gentleman
ly address in Birmingham ?'
1^* Just why I told yon, sir. I thought you
{ht owe somebody a few shillings, p'r'aps;
' I wasn't going to be thb one to set a lot
[thieves on your track.'
I ' Thank yon, my dear little girl . It was a
ry kind and friendly thought ; but you
la't have been afraid. As I said before, I
ive no debts, and fear uo man. I am rather
ious, though, to hear what this gentleman
want with me.'
' He opened all your books, and read yonr
le,' said fionnie, in an aggrieved tone ;
id he said 'twasn't your own, and he be.
ire you'd got another.'
What i'exclaimed Alfred Waverley, start-
: from his chair.
* Another name, sir, beside Waverley. I
iw 'twas nonsense, though play-actors do
two names sometimes, I've 'eard grand-
"ler say.'
|Ye8, .ye8;of course it's all nonsense,'
ied the lodger reseating himself. ' How-
if the ffentlemen returns, I should like
kk to nimi How beautifully clean you
kept my rooms whilst I have l>eeo
, Bonnie ! . It seems a long time since I
^ere last, doesn't it ? '
Terrible long,' acquiesced the girl, in a
f voice.
['ve been making a lot of friends in Bir-
|gham, and a lot of money into the
bin.^
'm very slad of that, sir.'
|¥es , I don't know when I've been so
lessful in my profession before. They
me to go back there as soon
as Ive
finithed my engagement at SwaoMn. Bui I'd
rather get sometbins to do at old Dnaj
Lane. I miss London life very much, Bonnitt .
and I miss yon into the bargain. I've nevwr
found such another 'neat-handed|littl« Phillip
to keep my rooms tidy and ohat to me all th*
time I'm taking my meals. Tin girl who
waited on me at Birmingham waa so ugly, I
never rang the bell except I was absolntdlj
obliged.'
Bonnie laughed softly to herself at thi*
announcement.
' And how have voti been getting on in my
absence T' continued Mr. Waverley ; ' got any
new lovers, Bonnie, eh T '
* Lovers 1 ' repeated the girl ; ' I never hav«
none — I don't care for 'em.'
'Oh, now, Bonnie, that's a story. Yon
know Kit Masters is awfully sweet upon yon.
He used o bring you flowers every day this
spring. Haven't you made up your mind to
marry him yet ? '
Bonnie's face paled and flushed altornatoly
with emotion, and Alfred Waverley went on
toasing her, until he saw her eyes were filled
with tears.
' Why, what's up now, child ? You're
surely not going to cry over a harmless joke.
If you don't marry Kit Masters it will be
somebody else, you know. You're a great
deal too pretty. Bonnie, to go without a hua*
band.'
'But I will,' said Bonnie, through her
tears. ' I hate 'em all ; I don't want none
of 'em : I mean to bide as I am.'
' Oh, you little vixen !' exclaimed Waver*
ley, laughing, as she ran down stain to fetoh
his mutton-chop.
He was still sitting over the lunoheor -tray,
ruminating what he should do with himself
that evening, and wondering what businesa
the visitorof the morning could possibly have
to transact with him, when he was told that
the same G;entleman had returned, and waa
waiting below.
' Show hini up,' said Waverley, and the
next minute the lawyer stood upon the
threshold.
' I am fortunate, sir,' he commenced, but
as soon as he oaughtsight of the young man'a
face, he changed his tone.
< Good heavens !' he exclaimed, ' it is as I
thought, and you are Vivian Chasemore.'
'Mr. Farthingale,' said the other, 'bow>
ever did yon trace me here ?'
'**,'! will tell you in a minute. We have
been looking for you for the last two months.
Meanwhile I hope you will shake hands with
me.'
' With pleasure,' returned Vivian ; ' I har*
no grudge against you, Mr. Farthingale ; bak
if you come here with any intent to try and
BfT
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
nil 1,1
CiniUMl* UM to rcUke my plao* in sooiaty, I
rewArn yoa it will be aa«leM. Had I ever
4}ont«nipUt«d raoh * attp, my father*! death
would heve pat an end to it. There is no
motive now to indaoe me to alter my way of
living. I have ohoeen my path in life, and I
mean to stiek to it.'
' J Hit eo, Mr. Chasemore ; and I bring yon
news that will render you more independent
■till. There is no need now, sir, that yoa
■hoald follow anything but yoar own fanoy
lor tlie fatare.'
' I don't understand you, Mr. Farthingale.'
'You are a rich man, Mr. Vivian.'
' A rieh man T'
' I mean what I say. You doubtless learnt
from the newspapers, two months af^o, of the
death of your grandfather, Sir Peregrine
Chasemore.'
' I did ; but my father sold the rever*
■ionary interest of his small expectations
from that quarter in favour of his widow :
■o I knew there oould be nothing for me.'
' On the contrary, there is everything. By
your grandfather's will you inherit the whole
of his private fortune — fifty thousand
pounds 1'
Vivian Chasemore looked bewildered.
' Fifty thousand pounds I Are you making
A fool of me, .i*. Farthingale ?'
' I am telling you the bare truth, air.'
'Then what becomes of my cousin
Arthur?'
' He took nothing but his father's original
portion of five thousand oounds.'
'Is that just?'
' It was Sir Peregrine's will, Mr. Chase-
more. And now, how soon will you take
possessioD of your property ?'
* Give me one moment to gain my breath
again. Fifty thousand pounds ! It seeiTv
incredible. I feel like a, Croesus ! Whatever
made my old grand-dad think of me after
that lashion ?'
' He names you in his will as his favourite
grandchild, and I suppose that is sufficient
reason for the bequest. But come now, Mr.
Vivian, you must not remain here >'
Where am I to go ?'
'Come home with me — at least for to-
night. I will try and get your cousin Sir
Arthur to meet vou at dinner, and my
daughter wiU be delighted to receive you.
This will give you time to think over your
prospects, and you can settle up everything
here to-morrow. Will you come ?'
' I will,' said Vivian Chasemore.
CHAPTEB V.
' SUP HWl IN TBI DARK.'
As soon as Mr. Farthingale had safely d«.
Sosited Vivian Chasemore in the care ef the
elighted Selina, he flew round to ooinmnni-
oate the news of his success to Sir Arthur,
and not finding him at his chambers, was
directed by his housekeeperito Lady William's
apartments, where, as I have already related,
he interrupted a very interesting conversation
between the object of his search and Regina
Nettleship When Mr. Farthingale plumply
asked the baronet to go round with him at
once and welcome his cousin, Sir Arthur did
not well see how he could refuse the request.
To have shown any unwillingness iu the
matter, would have looked like disappoint-
ment at Vivian's return, so he was fain to
comply. The presence of Mr. Farthingale
prevented his doing more than bid Regina a
formal farewell, though he looked unutterable
things in doing so, which she pretended not
to see, tor the intelligence that the lawyer
had brought them had fallen on her like a
sudden blow.
' I will certainly accompany you to see my
cousin Vivian,' said Sir Arthur to Mr. Far-
thineale, ' aui you must relate to me the
whole story of his recovery on our way. I
caunot tell you the relief I feel in hearing of
his safety. I had almost made up my nund
that he was dead. '
* And you will dine with us ?' asked the
little lawyer, eagerly.
' With pleasure 1
continued to Resioa,
very hurriedly, but thn cause admits of no
delay. I trust I shall see ,'ou to-morrow.'
But Regina had already', ost her interest
in seeing him. She requireil time for con-
sideration, and invented ar. engagement on
the spot.
'Not to-morrow. Sir Arthur. Mamms
and I are engaged out for the whole day.'
' Indeed ! I am sorry 1 The next day
then ?'
' I am not sure of what mamma may havel
arranged for us even then, but should we b«
at home we shall be most happy to receive!
you ; and your cousin Vivian also.if you likej
to bring him,' she added poliiely,
' Manv tV'ftnks. I cannot answer fori
Vivian, but I certainly can for myself. And
now, Mi; Farthingale, I am at your ser
vice.'
As they drove to the lawyer's house, S:
Arthur heard the whole history that is alread]
known to the reader ; and when they arriv(
there, they found Vivian (jbasemore alone
the drawing-rooni, Miss Selinahaving alipj
Miss Nettleship,' he
' I have to leave yon j
THE BOOT or ALL EVIL.
ithuar asked the
lawyer's house, Sii
history that is already
oa when they arrived
n Cbasemore alone ifl
Selina having slipj'
»j to adorn henolf in her most ' killing'
• for the ooming dinner. The consins,
had not seen each other for fire years,
never been intimate friends, and there
a stiffness, evidently felt on both sides,
the way the^ greeted each other, that
laiade Mr. Farthingale decide the best thing
|m ooald do was to leave them alone for a
tile while in order to oonqaer it.
' This is a most asreeable surprise, Vivian,'
•re the first woras Sir Arthur said after
k«ir host had quitted the room. 'Prom
ir long absence and complete silence, we
re almoet afraid there was no chance of
rar turning up again. '
* An agreeable surprise, do you call it ? I
konld have thought it would have been
itethe contrary to you,' laughed his cou-
' Now, do you mean that for politeness,
lur, or is it your real sentiment T Be.
lose I'm an actor, you know, and used to
1 a spade a si>ade ; and I would rather
ir you say outriifht that my ooming back
I a great disappointment to you, than that
v should carry the burden of a falsehood
your soul for my sake.'
* Yes ; we heard that you had been really
■pelled to — ^to — adopt the stage as a meaas
rapport,' replied Sir Arthur, evading any
iwer to the question put to him. ' What
immense change our grandfather's ecoen*
lo will has wrought for you !'
* I have to see yet whether it will be for
* better,' said Vivian; 'I have grown to
re the profession, and am not sure whether
Ithall be contented to live a lazy life, and
) the bread of idleness. I have an engage-
it at Swansea to oommtnoe next Monday,
i if I cannot get a. substitute, I shall
Ifil it' /
. ' What an extraordinary taste I ' ejaoulat-
' Sir Arthur ; • this is scarcely what Sir
Bgrine intended in leaving you the heir
i^his whole private fortune.
i I can't help it. I never asked him to
ive me so, nor old Farthingale to look me
How he found me at last, I cannot say,
I hardly ever read a paper, and as the
Brtisements only mentioned me by my
I name, none of my friends would have
loenised they were intended for me.'
^ xou have kept our name a secret then, I
r thankful to u nderata nd. '
IJStrictly so 1 I have gone by that of
" ever since I left home. '
f* Vivian I why did you leave it T '
r Because of that abominable woman
ler was fool enough to marry. No
lid live in the same house with her.
a standing disgrace, and set him against
into the bargain. Is she aliva still ? '
/Yes, as you will be able to judge for
Al-
my
ono
She
yoanalf bafore looo. 8h« ia inra to And yon
out, now that you hava con* home, in hope*
of shaiing yonr mod fortune. '
* Then she will be disappointed. I'd soon*
•r throw my money in the gutter. I say,
Arthur, whatever made the grand-dad leava
it to me T '
' Who can tell ? ' rejoined Sir Arthur, pet-
tishly. ' It's not worth discussing. I snp«
pose the old man was in his dotage. It'a
yours, and that's enough.'
' Of course yon oame into something. '
' Only my father's portion of the marriage
•ettlemenl'
' Are you married, Arthur ? '
<No; but likely to be.'
' I congratulate you.'
' I conclude you'll be marrying yourself,
now that yon can do it so comfortably. '
' Not I, my dear fellow ! ' laughed Viviau
' I've enjoyed my {liberty too long and too
much, to sell it so soon. What on earth
should I marry for? To keep one horse in'
stead of two, and live in the same house alt
the year round, instead of knocking about tha
world and seeins all that there is to be seen.
No, no, Arthur 1 Now I've got my money I
mean to spend it on my own pleasure, and
not on the support of a fot of squalling utata*
it's the greatest mistake a man with monvv
can make to marry young. He might as weU
be a pauper at once. I think if I had remain-
ed in the profession I might have looked out
for some nice little girl to keep my supper hoi
for me of an evening, for it's lonely work to
go home to an empty lodging. But not noW
that I've sufficient means to entertain as much
company as I choose. I mean to keep a jolly
set of chambers in town, and run over to the
Continent whenever I feel inclined, and leave
the matrimony to yon. And who kno'wi
whether you may not come into this grand
fortune sftor all, old boy ?'
' What do you mean by that ?
'|Whv, that if I understand old Farthin-
gale riijhtly, the money is left to me, and to
my eldest son, or grandson, as the case may
be ; and if I die without an heir, it returns to
you, or yours. So that all you have to do is
to outlive me.'
' What nonsense, Vivian I Half the girle
in town will be after you as soon as yuur
return has been duly advertised amonsst
them ;• •
' It will make no difference to you, Arthur.
Once for all, I am not a marrying man !'
At this juncture Mr. and Miss Farthin-
gale re-entored the room ; the young Udy
radiant in a blue dress, which had been
Honned expressly with the view of fasci-
nating the baronet. Of course she would
have been ready enough to take Vivian and
ii
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
kia fifty thooMod poanda, h«d ther* b««B
•ny ohMBoe of it; bat Mini (mUda knew
better thMi thai The young man who haa
iuat ooma into hia propartv ia faatidiona.
Tho young man who haa jufet loat hia, ia the
vary avbjaot to accept oonaolation in the
ah»pe of an heireaa. So the Farthingalea
oonaidered, nod they were wiae in their
generation.
The dinner paaaed pleaaantly enough.
Vivian Ohaaemore wm in the higheat apinta,
and kept them all alive with hia fund of
aneedotea. In the courae of converaation,
Miaa Farthingale, wiahing to pay him a
oompliment, remarked 'that ahe never
ahould have taken him for an actor ;' and
Sir Arthur capped her obaervation.
' Do I look too great a fool f cried
Vivian, comically.
They both haatened to aaaure him that
waa not the reaaon.
'Ah, I know what yon mean 1 You
expected to see me in a light coat and a
■carlet necktie, with hair down to the nape
of my neck, and to hear me ignore m^ Ha,
Mid talk with a naaal twans. is that it T'
Sir Arthur hummed and hawed, and did
Bot appear ready to anawer the question, and
liiM SelinA said, with modeat downcaat eyea,
that certainly aome profeaaioual gentlemen
whom ahe bad accidentally met were not a
bit like Mr. Vivian Chasemore.
'Because they were not gentlemen from
ihe beginning,' he argued. 'It's not the
{irofesaion that makea the man, but the man
he profeasion. Had I been reduced to
taking service aa a grooer'a help and aweep-
ing out the shop, I only hope I should have
avept it out a great deal better than an
o-<iinftry boy would have done.'
'Oh, Mr. Chaaemore, you are ao funny t'
•ried Miaa Selina.
' I only say what I feel, Miss Farthingale.
There are plenty of well-bred and educated
men upon the stage who retain the manners
in which they were reared. There are also
plenty of the other sort. But, yon see, I
nave come forth untainted from the ordeal,
and trust I shall still be found fit to retake
my proper place in society.'
' Who could doubt it, Mr. Chasemore t'
replied the old lawyer, gaily. * I hope you
mean to honour us by staying here as long
aa it may be convenient to yourself, sir.'
'Thanks 1 I will accept your offer of a
bed for to-night, but to-morrow I must return
to my own lodgings, if only for a few hours.
I have left those two peor women in a state
of the gieatest bewilderment. All they know
ia that some mysterioua personage has spir-
ited me away from them ; but they have
little idea it ia for ever.'
* Who are the women yon allude to ?* a^kod
Miss Farthingale.
' My old landlady, Mra. Bell, and her grand*
daughter Bonnie. Such a pretty girl t la ahe
not, Mr. Farthingale T'
* Yea ; indeed, ft om the little I aaw of her,
ahe appeared to me a very handaome yoong
woman, and particularly devoted to your
intereata.'
They all laughed at him, but Vivian waa
not to be laughed out of countenanoe.
'So she ia, and alwaya haa been. I've
lodged in her srandmother'a houae whenever
I've been in London, for more than three
Seara paat, ao Bonnie and I are old frienda.
he waa quite a child when I flrat went
there.'
' What a ourioua name Bonnie ia t'
' It ia a nickname given her by the neigh-
boura, on account of her pretty face. And
ahe'a aa good aa ahe'a pretty. She'a the best
little girl in the world,' said Vivian emphati-
oallv.
Miss Selina tittered and shrugged her !
ahouldera. She thought she sniffeda meaalli- 1
ance in the wind. Sir Arthur aighed, and
reflected what a much better uae he oonld
have made of the fifty tbouaand poundai
Mr. Farthingale oaugLt the aigh, and
chuckled over it. He bad not quite ao largo
a fortune to bestow upon his daughter as Sir
Peregrine had left to Vivian, but there wu
sufficient money lyins at his bank to form a I
very effectual salve for the baronet's diaap>|
pointed hopes.
vVhen Sir Arthur had taken hia departure,]
and Vivian Chaaemore had retired for thij
night, the lawyer followed hia daughter intol
her private aitting-room to disouaa the day*!!
prooeedingih
' What do yon think of that young 0ha8ei|
more, Selina?'
' He seems very wild, papa. He will aoool
make ducks and drakes of his fifty thonaand|
pounda 1 '
' So I think. However, he haa no head|
for business, and as the money ia aafely
my hands now, I may be able to perauadtl
him to leave it ao. If he will throw it)
away '
'Some of it may aa well drift into oi
coffers as into those of less worthy people,|
I quite agree with you.'
' Sharp girl I ' reaponded Mr. Farthingal«j|
putting her head. ' But if so, it will only fii '
its way eventuidly back to its original son
— eh, Selina? I fancy you would have
more objection to be 'my lady,' than
should to see you so ! '
'Wait till I am asked, papa.'
' No my dear, that is not like your usi
good sense 1 Gentlemen often want to hav
'"%.
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL
Uadator Mkod
that young OhMe-l
U\r avM opened on thea* HttU maktori.
for •nght I inow to tho eontrary, Sir Ar«
'lar ia not wn twMr* that I am prepared
mak« a settleaient upon yon. And it
ronld b« an immenM help to him. In faot,
don't aee how he ie to keep np hie title
ithout it Hie preaent podtion la nothing
tort of beggary.'
Well, I can't aay I ahould have any ob<
stioD to get Sir Arthur over Regina Nettle-
lip'a head. She'a been angling her very
It for him, the laat three montha.'
Miaa Nettleahip t Nonaenae ! Why,
haa uot a penny. Mv dear, I tell you
Arthur cannot afford to marry on hie
»nt iooome. He haa not the wherewithal
in to furniah a houae. '
' And you'd do all that for na, napa ? '
' To he aure I would. And give you a
ir thnuaand a year tb atart with into the
M-flain.'
Miaa Farthin^ale'a eye< aparkled. She
snaht it quite imposaible that the baronet
ila be proof againat auoh an array of
aptatioaa.
> * By the way, roy dear,' continued the law-
I have some newa for you. Mrs. Ma-
ira ia dead, and her niece Janet Oppen*
ia without a home. I have been oblig-
ito ask her here.'
I* H .e I ' exclaimed Miaa Selina ; ' not for
f, I hope. You know how I hate eirla.'
don't think vou'll dislike Miaa Oppen-
She aeema a quiet, inoffenaive aort of
kture. But the period ot her atay here ia
ifinite. The fact ia, Felina, I have bad
(charge of the old woman 'a property for
paat, and her death waa ao sudden
hi I muat have time to pull myaelf togeth-
M bit, before I can hand over what ia due
|the nieoe.'
'I see ! But hasn't Miaa Oppenheim any
Itiona ! '
' None living nearer than India, and no
that takea any interest in her affaire,
^the outside ahe can't come into more than
iw thouaand ; atill, unless I have a little
kthins-time, I must draw her capital from
rested funds, and that ia not what I want
just at present, so it is convenient to
keep her in the dark as to her real
an.'
kjr no more, papa. I will make the best
incubus. And, indeed, I do not know
ther, after all, the companionship of a lady
not leave me freer than ever. I am
ibly tired, you know, as to etiquette and
that nonsense.'
^True I and you need make no fuss over
Oppenheim. I want her to believe that
I is greatly indebted to us for the office of a
le, BO put her in her proper position from
tha flr«t,and oiaka h«r a aort of bvmbla ooai*
panion to yoaraelf. Taka her oat with yon,
or leave her behind, Joat as you think fit I
don't wiah to iooonvenianoa you in tha alight*
aai dame, Selina. '
' All right, papa I And whan am I to
axpeot the young lady to arrive f
' I ahall bring her over to-morrow She ia
quite alone, with the exception of a aervant,
and it think it aa well aha ahonld leave tha
honae before the funeral takea place. Beaidea
it will prevent her uoeaiping over her affaire
with atransera, and getting idea* pat into
her head which we may find it difflouli to
aradieata.'
Aa Mr. Farthingale had propoeed, ao it
came to paaa,and the following day aaw Miaa
Janet Oppenheim an inmate of their home.
The cab with her boxea and h^raelf drove
up to the door, juat an hour after Vivian
Chaaemore had left the houae to return to
tha lodginga in Drury Lane.
Miaa Oppenheim waa of tha order of
'cattv' women. Many people woald have
called her good-looking, but there waa a
atrontc * feline expresaion. about everything
ahe did or aaid. Selina Farthingale waa
sharp and cunning ; Janet Oppenheim waa
intensely 'sly.' She had large prominent
eyea of % light blue colour that were srldom
raised ; a long nose that drooped at the end,
and ashaip pointed ohin that turned upwards,
with a email puckered mouth that looked aa
if butter could not melt in it. Her pale
atraw-coloured hair waa drawn plainly off her
face and twiated in a coronet round her head.
She waa a woman who might be capable of
anyamonntof deceit, and malice, and revenjjie;
who might conceive it ai)d carry it out to the
end, alwaya with the aame downcast eyea and
puckered mouth. She could have taken in
any man, even the enemy of mankind himaelf.
Everybody, in fant, except Mr Farthingale.
She quite took in Mr. FakCbingale'a daughter.
Wneta Selina hrat aaw this soft pusay-oat
creature, with the sly eyes and the low voice,
ahe believed she could do anything she
choae with her. She had intended to keep
Miaa Oppenheim in her preaumed place
from the beginning, but Janet never gave
her an opportunity of doing ao. She waa so
reserved and timid that she had to be coaxed
to be made to talic at all ; and her apologiea
for the commonest trouble taken for her, and
her entreaties that no one ahonld put them*
aelvea out of the way on her account, became
painful to liaten to. Miss Selina lost no time
in trying to ascertain, on her papa's account,
how mnoh Janet Oppenheim knew of them
poaition in which her aunt, Mrs. Mathers, had
left her ; but at the close of the interview she
waa obliged to confess htrself unable to
n
Si
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
decide the extent of her itaect'e knowledfte,
* li WM so good of yonr dear papa to offer
me the shelter of his home,' Miu Oppen*
heim purred. ' What should a poor nrl like
myself have done all alone in those lodgings f
And I have never been used to do anything
for myself, yon see. My poor aunt was like
a mother to me. I have never known what
1 1 is to have a wish uagratified.'
' That is a pity, isn't it T' replied Selina.
' So many women have to work for their
own living in this world, that it does not do
'u be brought up too softly, unless one has
curtain prospeota in the future.'
' True, dear Miss Farthingale ; and per-
haps I have been more indulged than is
good for me. Still it was my dear aunt's
pleasure, and sLe had a right to do as she
ohose.'
' Her death must make a great change for
you, does it not ?'
' Ah! not whilst I am with you and your
father in this charming home. I fear it is
quite wrong and ungrateful of me to feel so
oomtcrtable here as I do. And will you for-
f've me,dear Miss Farthingale, if I say that
cannot help feeling as if y /a were already
my friend ?'
Sehna was not much given to making
friends with her own sex ; but she stumbled
over some phrase relative to her hoping Miss
Oppenheim would look upon her as such, in
reply. She had received a second admoni-
tion from her father to be sure and keep
their guest in good temper for the present.
' I have always conceived so high an idea
of what female friendship should be,' mur-
mured Janet. ' I remember, when I was at
school, being quite laughed at for thn strength
with which I handled the subject in an essay,
that won the iirst prize in the annual exam-
ination.'
' Where were you educated ?'
* At St. Anne's College, Lymehurst. Mrs.
Mathers gave me the very first advantages.
She considered it quite necessary that I
should be able to teach others, if so required.'
'Oh I educated for a govetness,' thought
Miss Selina ; ' she can't have been reared
with expectations. Mrs. Mathers intended
you for a teacher, then, 'she continued aloud.
' Until my cousin William died. He was
her grandson, you know, and I am only her
grandnieoe. But when aunt was relieved of
placing him in the world, she had me home
from St. Anne's %t once, and I have lived
with her ever since.'
' Dotis she mean by that, that the money
William was to have inherited has come to
her instead ?' speculated her oompsnion.
The next words Miss Oppenheim said
seemed to contradict the idea.
'How different our lots in life are, desrl
Miss Farthingale I You, so rich and happy,
surrounded b^ kind relations i and poor me
— alone and friendless, with so little to look [
forward to.'
* We never ean tell what is in the future |
for us. '
' But we can pretty well guess. With all I
Tour advantages, you are sure to make si
brilliant marriage before long.'
Miss Selina thought of av Arthur, and j
simpered. It was really pleasant to be purred j
over by this flattering pussy-cat.
' That remains to be seen,' she answered, |
smiling. ' I may be an old msid after all.'
' Oh, never I never I' cried Miss Oppen*
heim, clasping her hands ; ' that would be an {
impossibility. Now, confess, dear Miss Far*
thingale, that you are engaged already.'
' I shall confess nd such thing.'
' But I .n sure I'm right. To a duke, per*
haps, or an earl ! No ? Then to a baronet, |
at the very least.'
' Well, there are more unlikely things in I
the future than that f shall be " my lady," 1 1
must say,' replied Selina, with a self-oon8oioui|
air.
' I was was certain of it. Oh, let m«l
take a very, very great liberty, and ask hii|
name.'
'It is "Sir Arthur," but I shall not teUl
you a word more. You must guess all the]
rest for yourself.'
'Sir Arthur! What a heavenly name!
And he is tall, I feel, and noble in appear]
ance and very handsome.'
' You will see him before long, and be ablci
to judge for yourself. But remember he ill
only a friend. I am < more engaged to iiin
than you are.'
' Ob, I cannot believe that i'
' It is true, nevertheless. '
' Then if you are not, you soon will be,l
dear Miss Farthingale, for I know it is enl
tirely with yourself. And you will be " m{
lady," and you will let me be your very faithi
ful humble little friend to your life's endj
exelaimed MisA Janet Oppenheim, in an i
tasy of modest enthusiasm, as she knelt
side Selina and kissed her hand.
CHAPTER VL
' WHEN SHALL TOU BE COMING BACK ?'
As Vivian Chasemore walked back fron
Mr. Farthingale's house in Kensington to hii
old lodgings in Drury Lane, he caught him-j
self more than once whiiitliag in the gUdaes^
of his hotirt.until he remembered that he wa
about to leave his Bohemian life behind himJ
I and must drop his Bohemian manners at im
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
S5
it 18 in the fature
walked back fron
n Kensington to hii
ne, he oaaght him!
tliag in the gUdaes^
mbered tbat he wa
tian life behind hiiBi|
dian manaeri at tb
le time. The reooUaotioii only made him
aiieiw
9 had aooommodated himielf to the
•ty he had adopted, bat he had never felt
his own iphere since leaving home. The
' inette of the family dinner of the evening
fore had revealed to him, as it were in a
woe, how much he had wronged himself in
lieving that he could give np all theameni*
of social life withoat regret. He had
his father's house without thought, and
been too proud to sue for forgiveness
fterwards. The fact is, Vivian had never
a happy home. His mother had died
^fly and his father been much away on
liffn servioe,during which period the child
been left in charge of his grandparents.
Peregrine and Li^y Ohasemore. When
I was twenty, however, his father, then a
leral, had retired from the army, and
krried the widow of an old brother officer,
flaunting, showy woman, of middle age.
was then poor Vivian's miseries began,
had been old enough to see all the
9ng that went on under his father's very
|res,and too young to tell the old man what
fool his new wife was making of him.
irrel after quarrel took place between
I stepmother and himself, until he told her
tnly that her disgraceful conduct was
King their name a jest and by-word in
neighbourhood, and that he, for one, was
ermmed to stand it no longer.
[Mrs. Chasemore carried this story, with
ly ezagi];erations, to the general, who
lered his son to apologise or leave the
M. Vivian chose the latter altema^'ve.
ran away, then and there, with ten
ids in his pocket, and carried a banner
', the stage of old Drury Lane, until his
kuts and address gained him the notice of
manager of the theatre and a better
ftgement; And since tbat time he had
Bn aotinsr, here, there, and everywhere,
ting chiefly the parts of old men in
ly, for which he had a peculiar forte,
.that many of his intimate friends had
Itched the tottering gait and listened to
quavering voice of Alfred Waverley,
Wut dreaming that beneath the faloe fore-
',and wrinkles, and orows'-feet, there lay
handsome, laughing face of Vivian
Bemore. He had laughed more than
had felt inoliued to do. His was a
^p/, bouyant temperament that made the
It of everything ; but he had had many
ply and desolate hours during the term of
banishment, in which the whole of life
led so dark and hopeless that he ques-
sed whether he would not be wiser to end
i perplexities -with a dose of prussio acid,
that was all over now, he remembered
with a joycis laugh, aa he speed alonft from
Kensington to Dmry Lane. His dett old
grandfather, who had been very fond of him
when a little child, but whom he had never
oredited with so much partiality since, had
left him independent for life. He had nothing
to do thenceforward but enjoy himself in the
society he liked best, and that, Vivian could
not help feeling, would be the society in
which he had bMn reared, however grateful
he might feel to those who had been his
friends in exile.
Under the influence of such feelings, it was
with a face even more beaming than nsnal
that he burst into the little greengrocer's
shop (how much smaller and narrower it
looked even now than it had done yesterday),
where Mrs. Bell, with her work in her hand,
was keeping guard behind the counter.
' Ll I Mr. Waverley, sir 1 is it yon T I
thought we should see you back again some
time to-da^ ; but Bonnie, she's bin fidgeting
like anythink over your dinner, and a won-
derin' whether you'll take this, or whether
you'll take that ; and as I said to 'er, what's
the use, when if Mr. Waverley wants any-
think, 'e's sure to come 'ome and tell us so
himself.'
' Right as usual, Mrs. Bell I For, as it
happens, I've only run over for an hour or
two, to look after my things, and shall not
dine here to-day at all.'
' Going back to your friends, sir, I suppose?
Well. I'm glad to hear it, if so be they're
good friends to you ; for a young man is beset
by temptations in a place like London, and
the more respectable people 'e knows the
better. That's was i say.'
' Just so, Mrs. Bell i Yes ; my friends
have been very kind to me, and I am sure
yon will be glad to hear that I've come into
a bit of good luck at last.'
' Well, I never i Have you now ; That's
ju8t what the little gennelman said yester*
day, that he'd good news for you. I 'ope
it's money, Mr. Waverley. Money is hevery*
think to a young man just startin' in life.
'Yes ; it is money.'
' I am glad ! A nice little sum too, I 'ope.
Enough to set you goin' when you takes a
wife. '
'Quite enough and to spare. Though I
never mean to be such a fool as to marry,
Mrs. Bell.'
' La ! sir, you shouldn't speak in that way
of holy matrimony. I can't abear to hear
the young people nowadays u-ridicoolin' of
marriage as if it 'twasn t nothin'. Why,
when I was a gal. I'm sure the first thing we
thinked of waf» an 'nsbaud ; and it was
" catch who catch can " amongst us, directly
a young man made 'is appearance. '
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
' Poor fellow 1 ' Mid Y ivian gravely, m he
■eated himself on the counter; 'bat I
■hoaldn't have minded being caught by you,
Mrs. BelL'
'Get along with your nonaenee, eirl
What I means is this : all the yotng folk
■eem set against nature nowadays. The
men don't want to have wives, and when
the sals is married they don't want to 'ave
children. Why, it's regular flyin' in the
face of Providence. Look at my Bonnie,
now. She might marry as nioe a young man
to-morrow as ever stepped, but she won't
'ave a word to say to im. '
' Who's that ? Kit Masters ? '
* Yes, sir ; he's regular in earnest arter
'er, but she slapped his poor face yesterday,
BO that you might 'ave 'eard it down at
WhitechapeL'
Vivian laughed. '#
' Oh, that means nothing, Mrs.' BeU.
When girls slap a man's face, they want to
be kissed in return. Masters ought to have
known that ; he isn't half a sharp fellow.'
' Pr'aps not, sir ; but 'e's got the means to
keep 'er well, and pervide for 'er arter I'm
Sone, and she's a fool to say " nay " to 'im ;
at Bonnie was alwaps a bit daft, you know,
Mr. Waverley, and not like other gals.'
' Where is she now, Mrs. Bell ?'
' In your rooms, I think. Seems to me
she spends 'alf 'er time a-dustin' of nothin'.
She ain't good for much, I know ; and Mas-
ters, or any other man that gets 'er, will 'ave
a sorry bargain.'
' I dare say Bonnie will come round after a
little, Mrs. Bell. I'll talk to her, and see if
I cannot persuade her to give Kit Masters a
trial'
' Aye, do, Mr. Waverley I She thinks a
deal of you, Bonnie doeSj and of what you
8ay,and will take your word afore mine, any.
day.'
•AU right, I'll try my best,' replied Vi-
vian, as he got off the counter and went up-
stairs.
Bonnie was sweeping the sitting-room, with
a duster tied round her head to keep the dust
from her hair. She looked very pretty in
her homely head-dress, though she blushed
scarlet at being discovered so attired, and
tried to get rid of it.
' Don't pull it off, Bonnie 1' exclaimed Vi-
vian ; ' it looks uncommonly nice and tidy,I
«an tell you.'
* But I can't go on sweeping while you're
here, Mr. Waverley.'
' I don't want yon to do so ; I want you to
come and help me turn out my old portman-
and the other boxes.'
' La, Mr. Waverley I whatever for ? You're
not going away directly, are you T'
There was snoh visible disappointment ia|
the droop of Bonnie's pretty mouth, a* sh«|
put the question, that Vivian was quittl
touched. It had not entered into his oalouU.!
tions that his stroke of good fortune mishtl
{»rove a be a great loss to his humoUl
riends.
' Why, what do yon wish me to stay fori
Bonnie ? I give you a lot of trouble, you know,!
and make a terrible noise ; the house muttl
be ever so much quieter when I am away.'
' I never complained of the trouble, sir,'|
replied the girl, with downcast eyes.
' Come here, and sit by me, Bonnie, ool
the sofa. No ; never mind the duster or the!
apron ; 1 want to talk to you. I've lived inl
this house on and off, for four yeata, and!
you've always been a kind little fnend tome ;
and so I thml^ yon will be pleased to hearl
of my good fortune : I've had some monejl
left me, Bonnie.' I
' 'Ave you, sir ? that is good ! Is it twentjl
pounds — or more ? ' I
' It is more than twenty pounds, Bonnie.il
great deal. It is enough to enable me to|
live comfortably, without doing any work,!
I need never run about the country again,!
from one theatre to another, as I have Deeil
used to do. I can leave the stage altogethei|
and settle down where I choose.'
Bonnie's face grew radiant.
' Oh ! I am glad, Mr. Waverley ! I
truly glad to hear it. And now you nee
never spare yourself tobacco or beer again
nor fiummat nice for your dinner, like a roa
duck, or that. And oh, Mr. Waverley, sir|
you'll 'ave curtains up to the bed againal
winter, won't yon, to keep out that draugii
from the door that used cut so when yoi|
'ad the influenca ? '
' And when a certain little girl was
kind as to hang up her best gown to shiell
me from the cdd ! I haven't foirgotten thst[
Bonnie ; and when I get my money yo
shall have the prettiest gown that is to I
bought, in remembrance of your own go
ness.'
' La, sir ! 'twas nothin ', ' replied Bonni^
with a shamed face. ' I'd 'ave done
same for any one. '
Vivian perceived that the girl imagina
that, fortune or no fortune,he woud oontinij
to live on at the greengrocer's shop, and '
wondering how to brei^ the news to her
his certain departure.
* Well, then, as I am not going to act agsiij
you see, all my theatrical dresses will be
no further use to me, so I want to pack the
up and send them to my friend Mr. Selw]i
who has just telegraphed to say he will tstj
my engagement at Swansea. That is tl|
gentleman who nursed me through the br
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
27
diMppointmant iol
Btty month, m shtl
ired into his oalonU.!
i;ood fortnne mishtl
M to hi* hnmbltl
iah me to stay for,!
•f tronble,yonknow,l
le ; the hoa«e mnstj
when I am away.'
if the trouble, sir;|
wncaat eyes,
by me, Bonnie, onl
indthe duster or the!
> you. I've lived iol
for four yeatJ, and!
d little fnend tome I
1 be pleased to hearl
re had some monejl
8 good ! Is it twentjl
ity pounds, Bonnie,i|
;h to enable me to]
at doina; any workj
; the country aaain,!
•ther, as I have Deeij
I the stage altogetheT(
I choose.'
iiant.
r. Waverley 1 I
And now you nee
>bacco orbeeragaii
ur dinner,like a rot
, Mr. Waverley, sir!
to the bed againif
:eep out that draugli
led out so when yo^
(in little girl was
best gown to shiell
aven't forgotten thai
get my money y<r
)t gown that is to ^
,ce of year own go"
lin ', * replied Bonnif
•I'd 'ave done
at the girl imagine
iune,he woud continij
sprocer's shop, and w
k. the news to her
I not going to act agaifl
icsl dresaes will be *
to I want to pack the
\y friend Mr. Selwyi
ledto Bay he will t»a
wansea. That is tt|
me through the br
.. two years ago— you remember, Bonnie ?
ind my dresies and wigs will be valuable
I'him, though they are of no farther use to
Will you help me to eort them, and put
all away in the big black box T'
' Willingly, sir I ' cried Bonnie. ' And wont
m gentlemen be pleased when 'e gets 'em.
It you won't send away that lovely violet
Ivet coat, with the satin breeches. Mr.
jTaverley, will you ? '
[' Yes, everything ! I never wish to look
I them again,' replied Vivian, aa he tossed
see, wigs, jewelled rapiers, and buckled
k, one after the other, out of the chests
f drawers, and Bonnie packed them for him
I travelling-trunk.
7hen the task was completed, he wrote a
ble direction for the box :
• To EVKRABD SbLWTN, EsQ.,
* Theatre Royal,
' Swansea.'
told the little girl it was to be fetched
%v by the railway- van that evening.
[l will write and tell Mr. Selwyn it is
ing,' he added. ' Well, that's over, and
i a relief to my mind. Good-bye to the
[days, and all the hard work, anxiety, and
Dense that accompanied them ! And now
[the rest of my things, what am I to do
them?'
|e intended to leave the greater part . of
[property with Mrs. Bell, to be disposed
she thought fit, but he put the question
<ler to introduce the subject of his depar-
/by, what should you do with them?'
landed Bonnie. ' You're never going to
' away your shirts and pocket-handker-
and socks, Mr. Waverley? What'll
i do without 'em ?'
)uy new ones, Bonnie,' these have seen
service.
)ut they'll do to knock about of a morn-
lir, if they're not good enough for you to
it in. 'Twould be ten thousand 'pities
Irow 'em away.'
lere's no need to do that. Your grand-
er can sell them, or give them away, or
' kt she pleases with them. I shall only
change of linen and the suit I wear
tine.'
ke 'em where ?' demanded Bonnie.
fo my friend's house or to the hotel I
1 shall go to an hotel for a day or two. '
> an hotel ! repeated the girl, vaguely ;
|wby, sir ? When shall you be coming
ito us again ?'
|ell,to tell you the truth, Bonnie, ' replied
slowly, ' I don't quite think I shall
come baok--not to sleep you know* Of oourae
I shall come and see you and your grand-
mother sometimes ; but I shall hve in bigger
rooms than these now, and in a different part
of London ; and though I'm very sorry to
leave you and Mrs. ^11, who have always
been so kind and attentive to me, yet it
wouldn't suit my altered circumstances, you
see, to keep on these little rooms.'
' Not come back I' said Bonnie, with a half-
friehtened stare.
Vivian had watched the girl's colour ebb
and flow as he spoke to her, and saw that the
announcement he had made was anything but
a pleasurable one, but he was scarcely pre-
pared to meet the livid countenance she turn-
ed towards him now.
' Not tu live here,' he repeated kindly j
'bat I shall often see you, dear Bonnie,!
hope.' '
He put his hand upon her shoulder aa
he spoke, but she shook it off as if it hurt
her, and she saw th-vt she w»s shivering
violently.
' Bonnie ! Bonnie ! what is the matter 7
What have I said to make you look like
this ? he asked as he bent over her.
' Oh, go your ways and don't mind me 1'
replied the girl, vehemently ; ' 'T ain't nothin*
along of what you've said. It's my poor
head aches so terrible I can hardly near
myself.'
And in illustration of the fact, Bonnie,
throwing her apron over her head, burst into
a storm of tears and rocked herself backwards
and forwards. Vivian kept a small stock of
wine in a buffet in his sitting-room. He un-
locked it now, and pouring out a glass of
sherry, tried to put it to the girl's lips. But
she pushed it from her, so that it was spilt
upon the carpet; He waited for a lew
minutes till her asitation had somewhat sub-
sided, and then asked her how she felt. He
had not the slightest belief in the headache
she had so suddenly conjured up, but con-
sidered it quite natural all the same that a
pretty girl should crj at the idea of parting
with him.
' Shall I call your grandmother, Bonnie ?'
'No, no I let -the old woman be. She'd
send me off to bed at obce,and then I couldn't
help you with the packing. What more's to
go, Mr. Waverley ? The pain's easier now
and I can do aU you want for you without
no grandmothers.'
' There's nothing more to pack, Bonnie.
I have put what I require in my bag ; and
what I leave behind I wish you to do
exactly as you think best witL But I
should like you to take my books and
pictures, and the little clock, and anything
else about the rooms that belong to me, ana
rr
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
i !
keep them for yoar own Mlf» joit in remetn-
branae of the years we've passed together,
will /ou ?'
' III keep 'em for yon, sir. F'r'aps some
day yon may want 'em back again, and then
you'll find 'em safe, just as you left 'em in
my oare.'
'Thank you, Bonnie, but I would rather
Tou consider them yonr own. You will
De married some day, and have a nice little
house, and they may help to make it pretty.
I AM never want them again, my dear. I
am richer than yon think.'
' Very, very rich ? ' she said with a sob.
* Yes, very rich, compared to what I have
been ; and never likely to want any of the
old things again.'
'You'll be marryin' some grand lady.'
exclaimed Bonnie, with sudden energy.
' I don't think so, Bonnie. I've no wish
to marry any body yet awhile. But talking
of marriage reminds me of something. What
is your objeotion to Kit Masters ?'
The girl's eyes blazed.
' Kit Masters 1 Who's bin coupling our
nemes before you, Mr. Wavwrley ?'
* Your grandmother told me that he had
proposed to marry you, but that you refused
to nave anything to say to him.'
' Yes ! and allays will.' rejoined Bon*
nie.
* But how is that ? He is a very respect-
able, nice-looking young lellow, and well
able to keep you. He's got a horse and
oart, and he told me once that his father
owned a market garden in Surrey. You
might come to be quite a rich woman some
day if you marry him, Bonnie ?'
* Aye 1 1 might maybe, but I shan't all the
same. I hate 'im and all the rest of 'em,
and I won't 'ave nothin' to say to 'em.'
' But listen to me, Bonnie ; I want to tell
you something. You're a nice little girl,
you know,and I should like to see you mar-
ried. Your g'-andmother can't live for ever ,
and you're too pretty and too young to carry
on the shop by yourself. . So you ought to
f»t a good husband : and from what I hear,
think Masters is likely to make you one. '
* Aye ! will he t ' said the girl, indiflfer-
ently.
* Mrs. Bell says he's very fond of you ;
and indeed he told me so himself. And
what I mean to do for you is ■'jhis : Ou the
day you're married — I don't care to whom,
so long as he's a good fellow— I shall give
you the entire furniture for a four-roomed
house — real good furniture, Bonnie ; and the
wedding-gown and bonnet beside ; and the
wedding-cake too, if you like — for I shall
never forget the many months I've slept un-
peipltl
der this roof, nor the good honest
that have waited on me here.'
' Oh 1 that's wha<i you'll do for me, is it ? I
cried the girl, glaring with suc^.den paa8ioi|
as she sprang up from her seat and confront|
ed Vivian ; ' then yon may keep all vonr goo
intentions to yourself, Mr. Waverley, fur l|
shan't never marry Kit Masters, or any i
that lot. How do yon think I could do iti
How do you think I could do it ? ' she wenU
on in a piteous, faltering voice ; ' to benj
myself to a nasty coarse ruffin like that!
who can think o' nothin' but his 'one an
cart ? Grandmother calls me " daft ; " but
must be daf ter than I am now afore I tiei
myself down to serve Kit Masters all th
days of my life. '
Her vehemence took Vivian so oompletel]|
by surprise, that he looked at her in perfe
astonishment. Bonnie had always seemo
such a quiet,soft-spokeu,smiling little girl
him. He could never have credited her wi^
the expression of so much feeling. And I
call Kit Masters a coarse ruffian, too ; a
iu her own station of life, and rather above id
Why, what could the child be dreaming of]
At the same time her reproaches had plac
him in a totally false position, and he fd
called upon to ask her pardon for hav
offended her.
'I am so sorry I spoke, Bonnie; I didol
mean to make you angry ; but I will neva
mention marriage to yon again, if you donl
like it. I shan't be cheated out of giving yoj
a present, though ; for, married or single, [
must have a smart gown to remember me bj
as sure as my name's '
He was going to add ' Vivian Chasemon
but stopped short at the very uttera'' }e of tlj
syllables. It struck him suddenly, he hard]
knew why, thao he would rather be knoi(
in that little household by the old name on
'What did you say, sir ? ' demanded Bon
curiosity getting the upper hand of
trouble.
' Nothing, Bonnie — it is of no consequenij
but you must have the gown. And uoi^
shall go downstairs and tinish my talk w|
your grandmother. '
The talk proved very satisfactory to M|
Bell, although she was sorry to hear she \
to lose her lodger. But Mr. Waveij
' be'a/ed 'isself like a real gentlemen,' aej
told Kit Masters the next day, ' and paid
two mouths' rent, which I 'ope 'e may '
lucky as he deserves to be.'
' You was allays too good for a play-acf
sir, ' was her comment, as, Vivian told be
hia altered circumstances ; 'and I've saidl
far and near, ever since I first saw
You've a look altogether above it,
I felt you was bemeaned. And so I wii
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIU
»
all the poMible good in this world, and
« yoa'll come to think higher of matri-
by, and 'ave a good wife to yoareelf .'
fTbank yon, Mrs. BelL When I do have
fe, I hope sincerely I shall have her to
slf. And now that we've settled oar lit*
I account, I'll just mn upstairs and have
parting kiss from Bonnie before I set off
ly travels.'
le ran upstairs, but he could not find Bon*
(nowhere. He looked in each room on
Vupper landing without success. He could
'here the poor child sobbing her heart out
Bst the pile of dusty papers in the cup-
and reached the shop again disap-
fnted;
Ihe isn't there, Mr. Bell : but I shall ba
ii. again before long. So give her my love,
f say, by hook or by crook, I most have
kiss next time we meet.'
Mr. Waverley I you was allays a one
four fun, sir,' replied the greengrocer's
}w, as Vivian Chasemore shook hands
her cordially, and left the scene of his
liation, for as such he had already be-
^to regard it, far behind him. Mr. Farth-
had supplied him with ready money,
be turned into one of the most fashion-
f hotels and ordered his rooms and his din-
[as if he had never been accustomed to
ling in lower style. Then he had an
riew with his tailor and hia bootmaker
^outfitter, and before night was estab-
in comfort, and with all the para-
ilia of a gentleman about him. As he
i the, smoking-room that evening, after
r, content to watch the curliug clouds
»w into the air, and rumiuate upon
Itered prospeotis, one civcumstance
puzzled him : who had pat Mr
igide upon his track, or connected
ime of Alfred Waverley with that of
[missing Vivian Charemore? He had
tten in the excitement of the discovery
the lawyer that question, nor had his
Sir Arthur mooted it. He was sure
fiot bis theatrical friends knew his real
leu, or that, guessing it, they would
{iven it up without asking his consent,
kme so curious on thsi subject that he
. Mr . Farthingale's office the first thing
Imorning, to learn the truth ; but, to
;>rise, the lawyer was as ignorant as
[^e had been advertising >our name and
itiou in the papers for two months,
lasemore, without success, when, the
efore I found you in Drury Lane, I
lived a dirty crumpled letter, badly
and without signature, informing me
I enquired at a certain address I
heat news of a iodger who went by
the name of Waverley, but answered to your
description. We had offered fifty pounds
reward for any information leading to yonr
discovery, and in this communication it was
intimated that if Mr. Waverley proved to
be Mr. Chasemore, the writer would apply
in person for the reward, and produce a
duplicate of the letter in proof oi his iden*
tity. Bat he has not appeared yet,'
' He is sure to do so, I suppose T' said
Vivian.
'Sure, as that fifty pounds is not to be
earned easily every day.
' I am most curious to find out who it is.'
* There will be no difficulty, Mr. Chase-
more. Of course the money will nut be paid
until we have received direct proof of the
justice of the claim, with the name and
occupation of the applicant.'
' Whoever can it be ?' repeated Vivian,
with puzzled brows.
CHAPTER VIL
WK SHALL NEVER BE MORE THAN ACQUAIN*
TANCE8.
Regina Nettleship had invited Mrs. Run-
ny mede to spend the afternoon with her, in
her mamma's apartments, which was a more
remarkable occurrence than may at first sight
appear to be. For though Mrs. Runnymede
had, by reason of many circumstances, been
installed chief friend to Lady William, she
was the detestation of her daughter. Re*
gina was proud and cold, and smarted hourly
under the many indignities which their po-
verty thrust upon them ; but the worst of
all to her was being forced tc endure the com-
pany and tamiliarities and obligations of the
lady alluded to. Mrs. Runneymede was
not their equal in birth or position. She
was their superior only by the fact uf hav-
inga longer purge and being lavish with her
money, and Miss Kettleship hated to see
their vases filled with the fiowers she brongbt
and to know that when they went out to-
gether she paid for their luncheons and cabs,
and lent small sums to her mother which
were never returned.
Yet the buxom Mrs. Runnymede sat in
the drawing-room that afternoon by her in-
vitation, and Regina was doing her best to
make herself agreeable to her. The fact is,
it was the third day after the return of Viv
ian Chasemore to his family — the day on
which Sir Arthur had avowed his intention
of making another call upon her — and as the
weather was showery, and Lady William
was confined to her bedroom with a cold.
Miss Nettleship had thought it as well to
secure herself against an awkward ' tete-a-
3U
THE ROOT OF ALL SVIL,
i
tete' with the enamonred baronet. She had
not told her mother of the terrible mistake
she had made ; of the predicament into
which she had so nearly fallen ; and which,
had Mr. Farthingale's apposite appearance
been delayed by ten minutes, might have
seriously entangled her with iSir Arthur
Chasemore.
She knew that the baronet considered she
had as good as given her word to marry
him ; but Begina remembered with a sigh of
relief that she had not so given it, and that
it only required a little womanly finesse on
her part to be quit of her half-acuompliahed
bargain. Still, she did not intend to dismiaa
Sir Arthur until she had seen what chanced
she might have with his rich cousin ; she
was not one to drop the bone for the
shadow ; and therefore she felt that, at all
hazards, she must avoid being left alone
with him to risk a repetition of the scene
she had already gone through, until she had
finally made up her mind on the subjeec.
Whilst she was deliberating whether she
should seclude herself for the day in Lady
William's bedroom, or run the chance of a
cold by walking out in the rain, Mrs. Runny-
mede had ' dropped in ' to luncheon, and
Regina had made her promise to remain
with her for the rest of the day. She even
swallowed her disgust at seeing a ' pate de
toie gras ' and a basket of flowers and fruit
handed out of the cab that conveyed Mrs.
Runnymede to their door vfor that lady
seldom visited them empty-handed), and
praised the viands when they appeared upon
the luncheon- table, although she felt as if
each mouthful would choke her.
Mrs. Runnymede had evidently been
handsome in her youth, with a bold, high-
coloured beauty which had now degenerated
into coarseness. She had large features and
large limbs, and was altogether rather oppres-
sive in a small room. She dyed |her hair of
an auburn colour, and dropped belladonna
into her eyes to make them appear still
larger than they were by nature, and fancied
herself so secure against detection on both
points ai to be able openly to remonstrate
with Lady William for rouhing the cheeks
and blacking the eye-brows of her shaking
palsied old head. Mrs. Runnymede always
professed to have very weak sight and
delicate nerves. The first thing she did
on entering a room was to let down the
blinds and sit Jis far away from the window
as possible, shadmg her eyes with her hands.
Some people thought it was the belladonna
that made her eyes so bloodshot and watery-
looking ; others that is was occasioned by an
extra glass of sherry } but Mrs. Runnymede
herself peid it was ail the trouble she had
gone through and the many tears she had
shed, and presumably she knew the truth of
the matter. She had one virtue to counteract
her foibles : she was very good-natured, at
least with those to whom it served her pur-
pose to be so.
But Regina Nettleshipwonlc^ have raffered
less under insults from Mrs. Rnnnymede'i
hand than she did under the presents it
extended to her, and which, if she refused,
her mother accepted instead. \
As the two women sat opposite to each j
other in the little drawine-room they formed
a striking contrast. Notwithstanding the :
summer shower, the temprature was ex-
ceedingly warm, and a deeper flush than
usual had mounted to the elder lady's oheek.
But scarcely any colour illumined Regina's
marble face. She looked like an ice-maiden, I
with her purely-cut features, and the pale
gold hair that was wound in a classical
fashion about her head. Her dress — which,
except for a littlo fall of lace about the
throat and wrists, was perfectly plain — wail
only an old white alpaca which had been (
washed till it turned yellow ; but its folds
sat upon her lissom figure as if she had been
a queen. There was a cold purity and!
dignity about all her movemento, and her I
very way of speaking, that, from whatever!
source it was derived, struck every spectator [
who saw Regina Nettleship for the first time.
As she moved slowly and gracefully about!
the ill-kept and ill -furnished apartment, she]
might have been Semiramis treading the!
marble courts of Nineveh, or Zenobia in the!
groves of Palmyra, or Cleopatra floating ini
her gilded barge on the bosom of the Nile.f
And Mrs. Runnymede, notwithstanding her I
self-appreciation, recognised the supetiorityj
of tone and manner in her young com-f
panion, and felt mean and common beside!
it.
' Have you not been out at all to-day,|
Miss Nettleship ? ' she demanded. (It wail
strange that, for all her intimacy at LadjI
William's house, she had never yet arrivedl
at calling Regina by her Christian name. )
' Yes ; I went in Kensington Gardens thiil
morning, but the wind rose so suddenly '
was obliged to come home. I met with >|
curious adventure, too : quite matter for if
novel,' said Miss Nettleship, with a smile ;
the remembrance.
' What was that ? '
' I was in the Broad Walk when a gust oil
wind suddenly caught me under the hatl
The elastic broke, and ofi went my hat halil
way to Bayswater 1 I didn't know what oiT
earth to do— I couldn't run after it, yoij
know, and there it was, scudding before th
wind like a hoop. So I turned to a litt'
THE BOOT or ALL EVIL.
31
' Mid Mdd, ' If yooll nm after that hat
brinff it baok to me, I'll give yoa a
f.' The ohild itared at me like a fool,
was JQit going to repeat my offer
. a gentleman aprang up from a bench
at hand, and aaying " Permit me," Jan
all hie might and main after my hat.
cannot think how ashamed I felt.
I a crowd gathered aronnd me, and made
rki upon it. I could have cried with
ktion, and if there had been a cab within
t, I shonld have cot into it and come
• and left the hat behind me.'
)h 1 that would have been very foolish,
when the gentleman had offered to
rer it for you.'
il could not endure U> stand there with
I bare head and all the canaille staring at
However, there was no alternative,
it must have been more than ten minutes
. I got my hat baok again. '
(What was he like T'
The gentlemen ? Oh ! he was young and
•looking, I think. But the chief thing
»t having restored my property to me,
[walked off and left his own behind
tow was that f
[e had deposited a small parcel on the
when he gave chaso to my hat, and
he bad disappeared again, one of the
ren directed my attention to it. So I
it in charge ; but after having walked'
Rt the Park for nearly an linur m search
without success, I brought it home
ime. And now I do not know what on
to do with it.'
^on must keep it till the owner claims
it how shall I ever find him again ?
Bn't know my name, and I don't know
I left our address with the park-keeper
le he applies to him. *If we hear nu>
in a few days, I suppose we must ad-
ie it.'
lat sort of a parcel is it ? '
(ere it is,' said Kegina, bringing a small,
•sealed packet from a side-tMle. ' It
rd; but I cannot imMine what it is.'
Runnymede pinched the parcel in
\ directioB.
tell you, my dear I It's jewellery.
, I hope not ! I thought it felt like a
Seidhtz powders. '
fot a bit of it. That's a Morocco jew-
I know the feel of it perfectly.
[it's wrapped in white paper too, and
No one but chemists and jewellers
IX.'
That will the poor young man do T In
wte to oblige me, he cannot have en-
forgotten he had placed the parcel by
his ride. Ought we to send a notioe to the
polide-station. or an advertisement to the
newspapers ? '
' I should wait a day or two, and see what
happens. He will probably advertise for it
himself, if the contents are valuable. What
was he like T
' You've asked me that question already,'
replied Miss Nettleship, coldly. ' I don't
look at everybody I may meet in the streets,
Mrs. Runnymede.'
' Of course dot t But you mis[ht have
observed whether the preserver of your hat
was handsome or ugly — a gentleman or a
snob.'
' He was a gentleman — I know nothing
more,' said Regina, as she deposited the
white packet on the side-table again. She
did know more. She had seen and observed
thatthe stranger was unusually good-looking,
and that he cast more than one glance of
admiration at herself. But she would have
considered it lowering to discuss such topics
with Mrs. Runnymede.
It was at this juncture that the servant
announced Sir Arthur Chasemore, and the
baronet entered the room, with visible di8«
appointment at not finding Miss Nettleship
alone.
After the usual greetings from the two
ladies, and a polite inquiry after the health of
Lady William, Sir Arthur resigned himself
to his fate, and sank into a chair to be bored
by Mrs. Runnymede.
' And now you must tell us all about your
cousin. Sir Arthur,' she exclaimed fervently.
' Everybody in London has heard the news
of his return, and is dying to see him. The
Stingoes are going to give a party on
purpose to introduce him to their friends.
And I hear he's staying with those odious
Farthinjpdes. Is that the case ! '
' He did stay with them for one night *
Mrs. Runnymede, but he has now removed
to his hotel. '
' Oh, indeed 1 Much to the chagrin of
Miss Selina, I dare say. It is easy to guess
why old Farthingale was so anxious to invite
Mr. Vivian Chassemore to his house.'
' You forget, interposed Regina, loftily,
' who the Farthingales are. I should hardly
imagine that in their most excited moments
they could seriously contemplate marrying
into Sir Arthur's family.'
Sir Arthur cast a glance of gratitude
towards her.
'Hardly,' he murmured, in a tone of
acquiescence.
' I don't think there are any limits to their
expectations,' said Mrs. Runnymede. ' Mr.
Farthingale thinks his purse is long enough
to aoeomplish anything.'
82
TSE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
* Which is only another proof of his own
inoompetenoy,' remarked Kegina. ' Did yoa
■ee your ooaiin the other evening, Sir
Arthur ?'
' Yes, I dined there I And yesterday I
was with him at his hotel* He is very
anxious for an introdnotion to you, Miss
Nettleship, and I ventured to promise him
one. Dia I take too great a liberty T'
' Certainly not 1 Mamma aiid I wish to |
know him.' ;
' He said he would meet me here this i
afternoon about five o'clock, when I hope to (
have the pleasure of presenting him to you.' {
' Mr. Vivian Chasemore coming here to-
day ! exclaimed Mrs. Runny roede. 'Oh,
that is delightful ! Why, we are all longing «
to see him. Sir Arthur. Why, he is quite the
hero of the day, you know. Such a romantic
history, and such a lot of money ! Half the
'salons' of London will be open to him.'
' Yes ! he is a lucky fellow, as far as wealth
is concerned ; and I trust we shall not find
that the calline he was so unfortunately led
to adopt, has deteriorated his manners for
society. Is there no chance ot my seeing
Lady William to-day. Miss Nettleship T'
' Not the slightest, Sir Arthur. Mamma
is in bed. She caught a cold coming home
the other night from the Stiucoes, I think,
and has been poorly ever since.
' I am so grieved to hear it. I particularly
wished to see her this afternoon.'
' Can I give her any message frqm you ?'
said Regina, pertinaciously keeping her eyes
turned away from those of the oaronet.
' Yes ; I should like to send her one, —
that is, if you would be so good as to deliver
it,' replied Sir Arthur, as he glanced in a
peculiar manner towards Mrs. Runnymede.
That lady took the hint, and rising from her
chair negligently, walked into the next room,
which was divided from them by half -closed
foldine-doors, saying :
' Did I leave my hand-bag with my bonnet
and shawl. Miss Nettleship ?
Regina would have rushed after her, under
the pretence of affording her assistance, had
not Sir Arthur laid a detaining hand upon
her arln and drawn her towards the win-
dow.
' Forgive me,' he said,' '.but I am longing
to speak to you. Do send that woman with
some message up to your mother.'
But Reginasdrew herself backwards.
' Excuse me, Sir Arthur ; I cannot favou^
one guest at the expense of another. Mrs.
Runnymede is spending the day with me, on
my own invitation.'
' How unfortunate ! I was in hopes yon
would have kept this afternoon for me. But
X must look forward to better luck to-mor.
row. '
He had taken her left hand in his as lul
spoke, and was trying to slip a ring upon I
the third finger. Regina snatched it foroiblj |
awajr.
' Sir Arthur, what ai-e yon doing? Pray|
remember yourself. '
'It in only a rinff, Regina — a trumpery I
thing not worthy of your acceptance ; but!
you will wear it, I trust, as a pledge of our)
engagement, ubtil 1 can replace it with an-i
other. '
' Oh no, indeed I cannot 1' she whispered,)
nervously.
' You cannot ! and why f
' Mamma ^ould not like it. She is verjl
particular, aud she knows nothing yet of whatl
took place the other day.'
' But you will tell her, will you not T'
' I don't know. I am not sure. '
' Renoa, there is something beneath sUl
this. Why do you speak to me in so strangel
a manner ? Have you already regretted thti
promise yon made to me the day before!
yesterday T'
'I never made promise,' she replied.
' The words you spoke then, and by whicli|
you let me to believe that your feelings were]
reciprocal to mine.'
'Fray don't talk of it now. Sir Arthuirj
You masn't hurry me so; you make
nervous, and then I don't know what I
say inc.'
* I have no wish to hurry you. You sha
take your own time for sil things, fia
meanwhile accept the ring, if it is only
keep in your pocket until you can wear i|
before the world.'
' Please don't ask me ! I would rath«
not.'
' You are wounding me terribly t' repliu
the baronet, as heVeplaoed the ring whena
he had taken it. ' I came here with sud
different anticipations from these.'
* You forget how new the idea is to mel
It is too serious a matter to be decided inj
moment. I say so for your sake as wel
as my own.'
' I thought you had depided ; and there
lies my disappointment,' said Sir Arthur,
was so happy whilst I was buying that riii{
this moruiug. My cousin was with me, an
asked my permission to buy a little sonveoi
for you on his own account. I though
under the circumstances, there could bei
objection to it ; and I believe he made a veij
handsome purchase, which I suppose will
wasted, like my own. '
' I can accept nothing from your cousin o
the score of being eogaced to you,' repliej
Regina. ' I am engaged to no one,
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
81
Iter lack to*mor>
gint^—t^ tramperyl
acoeptaooe ; but!
as a pledge of out!
epUoe it with anf
)tl' she whispered,
it now, Sir Arthur i
I 80 ; you make mil
n't know what I ar
irry you. You shai:|
•or wl thinp;*. om
ring, if it is only
itil you can wear ij
e 1 I would ratha
me terribly 1' repli«
koed the ring when(J
jatne here with aucf
Jrom these.'
iv the idea is to id«|
er to be decided in j
)r your sake as wel
decided ; and there
,,' said Sir Arthur.
wa» buying tihat riij
sin was with me, au
> buy a little souven
account. I thougl
les, there could be i
)elievehemadeaveg
lich I suppose will
lur, whatever my preferences may be t
I do not iutend to bind myself until 1
I quite sure it is for my own happiness and
It of others. Mrs. Runnymecb,' she con-
ie<i, raising her voice, ' caunot you tind
ir hand-bag ? I think I saw the servant
Be it on the sofa.'
IlC these words the other lady reappeared,
Sir Arthur,aet)ing the interview was at
[end, bit his lip with vexatioa, and stood
kh his back to Regiiia, looking out of the
low. He did nut believe her deuisioa to
final one by any manner of means ; but
ras annoyed to think his wishes had
[ ahead of hers, and she was more luke-
on the subject of their engagement
himself. That she was really trying
ftt tid of him he had not the slightest
[fiere is Vivian I' he said, in rather a
en tone, a few minutes afterwards, as a
mm cab dashed up to the door.
[ra.Runnymede bridled with curiosity and
tctiition. Miss Nettleship said nothing ;
^even in that brief moment she found time
jruuder to herself if the new-uomer would
|e more or less agreeable than his cousin
|if her charms would have any power to
at him.
>w she wished she had b»en attired in a
luer more worthy of her beauty I for
|Da knew she was handsome, and rated
one of her personal possessions at its
^est value. 8he gave the washed alpaca
lau impatient twitch as the though
through her mind.
fo more poverty for me,' she said to her*
p if it is to be prevented either by fair
'is or foul.'
nwhile Sir Arthur, who had gone to
lead of the stairs to receive his cousin,
ijtered the room, with Vivian Chasemore
train. He wished that something had
nted his coming. He had talked so
ently to him of being engaged to Miss
iship. And now he had only just had
a hurried whisper to beg Vivian not
e any allusion to the relations sup-
to be existing between himself and
ung lady.
right ! ' replied his cousin. ' Fancy 1
, I've lost that bracelet.'
baronet elevated his eyebrows, but
lay nothing, for they were already in
Dm.
pss Nettleship, allow me to present Mr.
Chasemore to you.'
[la rose in her stately manner, and
out to salute the stranger with one .o
Bt graceful inclinations, when the^tf
let.
3
' Oh ! ' she exclaimed faintly, as she stated
at him ; bnd Vivian's first words were :
' We have met before I '
' Where T' said Sir Arthur, in a tone of
astonishment.
' In the Park this mornina, when this
young lady lost her hat, and I had the plea*
sure of restoring it to her.'
' How very strange I ' rejoined Regina.
' Mrs. Runnymede, \ir. Chasemore is actual*
ly the gentleman I spoke to you about, who
lan such a distance after my hat in Reusing*
ton Gardens to*day.'
'This is a coincidence,' said Mrs. Runny*
mede, as she bowed to Vivian. ' I assure
you I've heard the whole story, Mr. Chase*
more. Miss Nettleship could talk of nothing
else when we first met.'
Re*
'Oh, and I've got the packet I ' cried
gina. ' You left it nu the bench, and I look*
ed for you everywhere afterwards without
success, so I brought it home with me.'
• It is very fortunate,' replied Vivian. ' It
was rather an incumbrance in my pocket, and
I laid it careleosly beside me whilst I sat
down. Do you know I never even remem-
bered its existence until I had returned to
my hotel, and then I could not recall wher*
I had seen it last. It was really most good
of you to have taken the trouble to carry it
home, MiNS Nettleship I '
' I could hardly have done less, when it
was the politeness with which you ran after
my poor hat that had caused your loss. Had
I heard nothing from the owner, I intended
to advertise the packet. But little did I
think that it belonged to Mr. Vivian Chase-
more ! '
They were so engrossed with each other,
and with recalling the circumstances of their
introduction, that they seemed altogether to
have forgotten the existence of the baronet,
who stood at a little distance, anything but
pleased at being so completely left out of
the matt«^^r. Regina looked quite animated
too ; and Vivian's handsome face was close
to hers, as they talked of the gardens and the
weather and the hat, and never mentioned
his name at all. At last, however, the packet
brought it on the tapis.
* Let me restore your property to you,'
said Miss Nettleship, as she lifted it from the
side table and placed it in Vivian's hand.
'The seals are not broken, you see— Mrs.
Ruunymede and I have not been tampering
with them, although our female curiosity
sorely tempted us to do so. '
Mrs. Runnymede was on the tiptoe of
expectation to learn what the packet con*
tiined, when a message was delivered from
Lady William desiring to see her in her bed*
I
S4
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL-
», and she had no ftltarnatire bat to leare
the three yoang i^plti together.
' Will Tdu gr»tify vcar ourioeity now, Min
Nettleship,' lud Vivien, extending the
iwrcel towards her, ' aiid break the Male for
yonreelf t '
' Oh no 1 1 could not 1;hiDk of doing so. '
* Bat— if yoa will par«lon my preaumptjon
and be graciotis enoagh vo back the assertion
— it is your property an<l not; mine. '
Here Sir Arthur, guesiing what his cousin
was al)out to say, tried liAra,by winking and
frowning and shaking his head, to prevent it ;
but Vivian.in his excitement and admiration
of Regiaa had entirely forgotten the caution
fiveu him on the staircase, and went on an-
eediogly.
' I do no underetand you, Mr. Chasemore,'
said Miss NetUeship.
' I mean, that when my cousin here, who I
consider the luckiest fellow in creation, told
me of the terms on which he stood with
yourself, I asked his permission to present
you with a trifling token uf the friendship
which I trust you may extend to me as his
ne.%rest relation. Do not think me too imper-
tiu'tut, then. Miss Nettleship, when I tell
you that the packet you were so kind as to
rescue from the heuch, was intended for your
accflptance, and that if you will open it and
keup the contents, you will do me the great-
est favour popsible. '
But the sight of Vivian Chasemore had
been sufl&cient to make Regina Nettleship
oome to a decision respecting her future.
She saw that he was ardent, impressionable,
and admired her. She had read i* in hia eyes
that morning : she saw it still mure clearly
now : and she was determined even at the
oost of losing the baronet, not to leave him
under any fuse impressions regarding herself.
So she put the packet from her—firmly and
deliberately.
' I cannot accept any prnsent f^^m you,
Mr. Chasemore, on su^a condihi'' is.'
' On what conditions, Miss Nettleship T I
trust I hav« •• - ^ oflfended you.'
' Far from it, but you have been misled,
and your generosity has been the sufferer. I
am not on the terms you imagine with Sir
Arthur Chasemore. '
' Indeed ! I am very serry ; it is a most
stupid mistake of mine,' stammered Vivian,
who telt as awkward almost as hi s cousin.
'Never mind, Vivian,' interposed the
baronet, nettled into anger by Regina's
coolness. ' If the mistake has been on any •
body's side, it has been on mine. I told you
the truth, and you drew the inference for
yourself. We both forstet one thing, how-
ever, and that is that ladies not only consider
thumselres privileged to change their lainds,
but avail themselvea of the pnvilege as they
feel inclined, without the least consideration
for the feelings of others.'
' I have never changed mv mind with
regard to you, Sir Arthur,' said Regina
Nettleship, calmly, ' and I hope Mr. Chase*
more will take my word for it. I have
never even made it up. But your present
action has decided me. We shall never be
more than acquaintances for the future t'
' Vivian, if you are ready I think we will
take our departure I' said the baronet,curtly:
' Miss Nettleship will evidently be relieved
by our absence.
' I cannot go until I have asked this lady's
pardon for any unpleasantness of which I
may have been the unfortunate cause.' re-
plied Tivian.
' There is no need, Mr. Chasemore, I can
assure you. I have told your cousin nothing
but what he should have known before, and
I hope you will consider that my offer to him
of friendship in the future extends also to
youfielf.'
' 1 shall be but too proud to be numbered
amongst Miss Nettleship's acquaintances.'
' Mamma will be so sorry to have missed
you,' went on Kegina, sweetly. 'She will
not be satisfied until she has seen you. I
hope you will soon call again to be intro-
duced to her.'
' I shall be most happy ! '
He shook the hand which she extended
to him as he spoke ; but Sir ^thur con<
tented himself - ^ith a formal bow, as he
hurried from her presence with a heart burn-
ing with rage and mortification. It was
bitter to be rejected by Regina Nettleship ;
and doubly so to have received his dismissal
in the presence of his newly-returned cousin.
CHAPTER VIIL
'HK MUST BB A OENEKOUS YOUNG MAN.'
The two men got into a cab together, and
the order was given to drive to the hotel
where Vivian was staying.
' Yoti'U dine with me to-day, old fellow,
won't you ? ' he had said first to Sir Arthur.
For he felt the slight to which his cousin
had been subjected, and was desirous to set
hioi as much at his ease as possible.
' Oh yes, if you like it, replied the baro-
net, carelessly — • as well tiiere as anywhere ;'
and then he added somethicg in a lower
voice that was not complimeB^»ry to Miss
Nettleship or her sex.
' Try and frorget aU about it, 'was Vivian's i
consoling rejoinder. ' Women are riddles {
at the best. I don't wonder al our some-
times making mistakes about them, though I
THE ROOT or ALL EVIL.
M
oaa lympath^M with 700 on losinB tnoh »
rl M thAt r 8h«'a like a statue. By Joyet
Lrthnr,' ho went on enddenly,' 'IVe left that
Inoky braoelet behind me again.'
•Have yon? That'aapityl What ihall
ra do about it ?*
* Nothing t She'i rare to mention it when
I we meet.'
' Oh I yon mean to keep up the acquaint*
lance, then T'
' Why not ? Miia Xettleehip ezpreiity
iveted me to do 10. Didn't you hear
?•
' Yei ; but, under the cirouraitanoa, I
ught perhapi it might not be agreeable to
DU.
' Hang it all I my dear Arthur, I oan't be
Epeoted to drop a pretty girl because ahe
■n't feel inclined to marry yon. I hope
DU don't conaider that auoh an act of prosaic
tue ouffht to come into the category of my
Duainly duties. '
' No ! of course not , and I am sure you or
ly other man is welcome to her friendship.
Ton'U never get anything more out of her.
She's as cold as an icicle, and as proud as
Tnno. '
' " If she be not fair for me,
What care I how fair she be 7'"
ingbed Vivian as the hansom cab drew
ip at the door of the hotel, and Sir
\rthur and he disappeared within its per-
ls.
Meanwhile Regina stood where they had
»ft her, wondering if she had acted for the
It ; but quite sure that she could not have
ted otherwise. A single admission of Sir
thnr's supposed claims would have been
si to her. She wa^ a little sorry for him .
{e was certainly \ery nice-looking, and
;»]9arently fond of her ; and if he had only
* the money, she would not have hesitated
I accept hira. ^ But what was his income T-r-
sitively nothing. A miserable five thousand
[tnnds, out at interest probably at five per
Kut., and the possible gains of a barren
rofeesion I Why, her mother bad as much
^oney as that, and yet how they were obliged
economise. Regina shuddered as she
3ked round the uncomfortable room she
3d in, and thought of being condemned to
l^y in on« like it all her life. Sir Arthur's
lie W.1S something in the scale, certainly,
id she wished— oh, so ardently !— that
Tivian Chasemore had only inherited it in-
tead ; but it was an imporeibility and no
le thinking of. Vivian's really handsome
ice and figure she valued little. They added
-) his attractions, certainly, but without the
)uey they would have Men weighed in the
ilance and found wanting. But the next
Itiestion was, whether Vivian Chasemore
would oomider her birth and beauty an
equivalent fur his fifty thousand pounds T If
hiB heart were only fr—, and not entangled
with some low peraon in the profeasion k«
had left, Regina believed he wonld. 8h«
knew how to come down from her thron*
and be more of a woman and less of a statno,
when the oooaaion demanded ; and ahe knew
also the effect ahe oould prodnoe by snob m
oondeooension.
As she pondered thus, her eye fell on the
white sealed packet which had oanaed her ao
openly to speak her mind. In the hurry
of departure Vivian had left it behind him.
At first, the circumstance save her annoy*
anoe, until she remembered that he muat
come back again to fetch it, or it would form
a good excuse for her to recall him if he did
not. 80* she took it in her hands and went
up to her mother's bedroom. She had not
Sid Lady William anything yet of her inter*
ews with Sir Arthur Chasemore, but she
thought the time had come to disclose them.
She had refused hira, as her mother had
advised her tu do, and she did not care who
heard of it. The presence of Mrs. Bunny*
mede only added a zest to her female love
of communicating a piece of news .
The whole story was gone through, with
the omission, of course, of such details aa
Regina considered disadvantageous to her*
self, and the two old ladies were delighted
with it. Mrs. Ruunymede put in a few
expressions of compassion and sympathy for
Sir Arthur in the disappointment he muat
have sustained ; but Lady William's head
shook with excitement and pleasure »
hearing that her daughter had behaved so
discreetly, and she reminded Mrs. Runny*
mede rather sharply that this was not tha
first young man Regina had rejected in
marriage, and it was not to be supposed
that the (jranddaughter of the Duke of
Mudford was going to throw herself away
upon a beggarly baronet, without even sum*
cient money to keep up the title.
'And so Vivian Chasemore ia good*
lookiae, Rnnnymede tells me,' continued
Lady William, who, divested of her rouga
and false hair, and clad in a flannel dressing*
gown, was anything but good-looking herswi*
' He certainly has lost no time in calling
upon us. '
' Oh ! that was in' consequenee of th«
presumption of Sir Arthur, mamma, who
actually made so sure I intended to accept
him, that he invited his cousin to come and
offer bis congratulations. And here is the
packet Mr. Chasemore bought for my
acceptance. He left it on &e table by
mistake.'
:^^pS£iS
THE ROOT OF ALL KVIU
'P«rhMM il WM not by miatokci' laggMt'
•d Mri. Ronnymcdc.
' 1 1 oould hantly have b««D doa« inten-
tionally, after what I aaid to him,' replied
He^na, in the unpleaaantly earoaatio tone in
whioh she usually addreeeed her mother'*
friend. ' Mr. Vivian Cbaaemnre did not
look ae if he reliehe<l the rebuff whioh his
qouein reoeived euffioiently to run the risk
of euoountering another on his own aooount.'
' It ie quite a weighty parcel,' remarked
Ladv WilliAm, aa she balanced it in her
hands. ' 1 should like to see it contents.'
' Nothing easier,' sufCReeted Mrs. Runny,
mede ; "the paper is only sealed down with
wax at the oornern. I could open and do
it up again so that no one oould detect the
differeuue.
' What do yea sav, Regina.? J should
like to havM a peep, if only to form some
idea of Mr. Viviau Chasemure'a character. I
think men'H minds are su often tu be read if
their purchases. '
' I see no harm in opening the packet,
mamma, if it carefully re-aealed. I
shouldn't like Mr. Chaaemore to think we
had tampered with it.'
' Of course not t We will take care of
that. H%nd me those aciaaora of the dreaa-
ing table, Regina.'
Regina gave Lady William what ahe
aaked for. She wiva not uaually ho com-
plaiaant, but she was ourioua herself to aee
what thepacket contained.
Lady William took oif the outer wrappinga
with the greatest care, when a Morocco oaae
was brought to view, which being opened,
difplayed a beautiful bracelet of chaaeu|gold,
with a large star of pearls and diamonds in
the centre.
The two elder women into eoataaiea
over the jewelled toy.
' He muat bea generoua young man,' eX'
claimed Lady William, 'to make such a
•urohaae as this for hia couain'a financee t
Why, it muat have coat fifty pounda, at the
very least '
' Fifty pounda, my dear Lady William I
Much more like one hundred, I can aaaare
you. Thoae are whole pearla, and the
dianaonda are brilliants. It quite makes my
mouth water ! '
' And you should have seen the trumpery
ring Sir Arthur wanted me to accept to>
day, mamma,' aaid Regina. 'A schoolgirl's
trinket, that I would not have been seen with
on my finger.'
' Ah, my dear, that young man has to be
taught his place. Perhaps the leaaon you
have given him will be very uaeful. Hia
cousin appears to be cast in a totally
dlfiisrent mould.'
' He does indeed,' murmured Mnt. Runny*
roede. ' Misi Nettleship, this bracelet^ ia
most artiatio ! Does it not make yon
feel quite miaerable to have refiued
itT
' Not when I remember the supposition on
which it was bought for me. Pray do it up
again very carefully, Mrs. Runnvmude. I
expect Mr. (Jhasemore will oall here to-
morrow or the next day. '
Tlie Morocco case was returned to ita
paper v/rappiogs, and thu sealx secured ua
before. Then Mrs. Runuyraede si^ddenfy
remembered that she could not stay a niinu(e
later, as she had au engagement with Mrs.
Maodougal for that very evuuii>g.
' I know the cause of that hasty departure,'
said Regina. as their triend turned her back
upon them ; ' she wants to tuU the whole
atory of 8ir Arthur'a rejection and Mr. Chase-
more'a bracelet to that other old acandal*
mougei-, the Macdougal of Maodougal.'
' Were you wiae to aay ao much before
her?'
* I really don't know, and I don't care 1
It ia auru to get round to Selina Farthingale's
eara by their meana, and I ahould like her
to know that I've refuaed Sir Arthur, be-
cause ahe is ao very anxious to get him for
heraelf. She may do it now, aud wel-
come ! '
' Ah ! you aee I was right, my dear,' said
Lady William, oracularly ; ' and I am
thankful you have taken my advice. I
tremble to think what might have happened
if Mr. Chaaemore 's recovery had been de-
layed tor a mouth or two. You might have
been married ti) Sir Arthur before he ar-
rived.'
' I don't think so. But you mustn't
make too sure of Viviau Chaaemore, mamma.
All we know ia, that he ia here. He may b«
engaged, or even married, for aught we have |
heard to the contrary. '
But Lady WilliamV faith was not to be |
shaken.
' No, my dear ; no I ' she answered. ' A I
married man — or even an engaged man— I
would not have brought that bracelet for i|
perfect stranger. He would have bee
thinking of his house and his furniture audi
hia wife^a dreasea instead. Vivian Chase- 1
more ia too extravagant to be anything; but!
a bachelor and heartwhole. When did ii<|
say he was coming again T '
' He mentioned no particular time. Eel
only aaid he ahould have pleasure in doiogj
BO.'
' You must write to him Regina, in mjl
name, and aak him to dine with ua odI
Thuraday. Farthingale will forward tbij
letter, and Meringue can send in the dinner I
TBI BOOT or ALL EVIL.
taith WM not to be
him Regina, in mjl
;o dine *ith us onl
e will forward m
Bend in the dinuei
tmethiag rery simple, yoa know : a roMi
loken end e little oyster soap. Yoong
•n who oen get everything they went ere
rer pertionler ehoat their eetiag. Mr,
3haeemoie has not had titne to make any
ieuds in London, end the sooner wp are
the field the better. Do yoa uuderstend
«er
' Perfectly, mamma I And shall I mention
be braoelet ?'
I* Yes I say yon will keep it safely for him
11 he comes. 1 dare say he will try and
made you to retain it ; but you must re>
the offer, at all risks.'
*0f course I shall, maroma I Do yori
ink I should be so fooliah as to let him
k{|ine I accept presents from strangers ?
will not even do to let him ■upposu such a
ft would be of any value to m«. By the
ky, that reminds me that I ou^ht to have
[new drees. I really have n«»t a decent
le to walk in the par k or anywhere. And
I there is one thing above another that
|htens rich mon away, it is genteel po-
' Well, well, we will see about that after
irsday. I shall be better able to judge
what theyoung man's intontioas are
lly to be. Write that note, Regina, and
id it by to-night's poet. Lay it all on me I
I knew his father when a boy, and am
lirous to see him in oou8e<iuence. And
ite in a friendly manner. When a man
no decent acquaintances, he is touched
^a little cordiality from strangers.'
the note was written and sent, and
in Chasemore,' touched by the cordiality
strangers,' accepted the invitation it
^taiued with gratitude.
[eanwhile Mrs. Runnymede ' dropped in'
' } Maodougal's house in Hans Place, and
fortunate enoufi;h to find Sulina Farthin-
there. For this young lady was a great
Burite with the old Scotchwoman, who had
I power to introduce her into good society,
) upon whom she fawned, when occasion
inded it, to a sickening extent. Shu
^spending the evening with her now on
'l>wn invitation, having left Miss Janet
^nheim at home ' sans ceremonie,' as her
advised her to do.
Bry dei<ail relating to the runaway hat
[the lost packet ; the refusal of the bnron-
ftd the purchase of the bracelet, was re-
»d again and again by Mrs. Ruunymede
|)the benefit of her hearers, whilst the
lougal's eyeballs protruded with ouri-
and Selina turned sick at heart at the
ligence of her rival's success.
Lre you sure he proposed to her ? ' de<
led the MaodougaL
* Well, of oonno I hare only htr word for
if
' Her word I ' repeated tho other, with »
sneer i ' why, my dear, that jyirl is hairdened
enough to asy anything. Tie way in whioh
she went on with that young man the other
night at the Htingoes^ was a dist(reeoe— *
purfoot disgreeoe I All I can eay is, that i(
she has refused him after it, she ought bo be
ashamed of herself.'
' It would taks a great deal to make Re*
gina Nettleehip that, rejoined Mrs. Kunnv*
mede ; ' she's as stuok-up and proud as sho
can be. You should have seen the air with
which she told us the story. You wonld
have thought Sir Arthur wasn't good enoagh
for a door- mat for her.'
' I don't believe he ever proposed to her at
all,' said Selina, who had areat difficulty in
.'<eeping back her tears of vexation. ' I'm
sure she would have taken him if he had.
They are as poor as church rate, papa says,
Slid aoybudy cau see how they dress. Do
iron suppose Miss Regina wouldn't be *' my
r*dy " if she could ? '
' Ah, my dear I hut yon forget the other
young man has come in the way. She's got
her eyes tixeil on him now I I wish yon
could have seen that bracelet I There's no
mistake about that I It must have cost on*
hundred pounds at least.'
' A foot and his money are soon parted 1'
chimed in the Macdougal, to whose uharM
the fault of reckless extravagance coiud
never have been laid. ' I have nae doubt
Miss Nettleship will take as many pre<
sents as Mr. Chasemore is silly enough to
buy for her I There is something about
that yuuug woman that I never oonld
stand.^
' He'd better buy her some new dresses
whilst he is about it,' remarked Selina, spite-
fully ; and then she went home, half-crying^
to tell the news to her father, and was sur-
prised and of^t nded to find that he laughed
at instead of commiserating her.
' Oue would think you bad no feeling for
your own tlesh and blood, papa. And when
you know how I've set my heart upon that
'That's the very reason I am laughing,
my dear. You are too prejudiced to be able
tu judge in the matter. But this is the very
best thing that could have happened for
you.'
'What do you mean?' How can Sir
Arthur being in love with Regina Nettleship
forward my cause?'
' Tut, tut, tut i Yon girls think of nothing
but love. A man may have a dozeu reasons
for proposing to a woman without having
any love for her at aU. He may admire her,
.88
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
|iS-i
IP
or her family, or he may have been drawn
into making her an offer before he knew what
he wai abont.'
'That's just it, papa, I believe,' said
Selina, eagerly ; * ahe's a horrible flirt, voa
know, and ahe had led him on until he had
ao meana of Ibacking out of it with honour.
' All the better for yon. Selina. A heart
is often canght in the rebound. Sir Arthur's
vanity has doubtless been wounded. It must
be your part to apply the salve.'
' But perhaps h« won't come near us now 1'
* Oh yes, he will ] He has not many more
friends at this end of London than his cousin.
Until he came into his title he was always
cooped up in chambers. We will invite him
to some nice dinners, and make him tho-
roughly comfortable here, and he'll come as
often as we ask him.'
'Suppose he is really in love with her,
papa.'
' That won't make any difference ! If he
had rnasou to believe she would accept him,
he will be all the readier to show her he is
not mortally hurt by her refusal. But you
must go to work very carefully, Selina. Don't
frighten him. You women are much too
quick sometimes. You leave the gentleman
to me.'
' ^ hat can you do, papa ?'
'Never you mind. I can pay for the
dinners, at all events, and all you have to do
is to order them. And when I see he is in a
proper mood for it, I can easily let him know
that my daughter will not go penniless to her
husband . Sir Arthur is aerJously perplexed
about money, SeliDa. He doesn't get on in
the profession a bic. But if he were my son-
in-law, I should be able to get him no end of
work. Do you see ?'
' But I want him to love me for myself,
•aid Selina, who had really fixed her affec-
tions on the unconscious baronet.
* Phew 1 Nonsense 1 That's how you girls
spoil sport. Of course he'll love you for
yourseU when the matter's settled, but a
mau'a Urnt consideration is the state of the
coffer. A wjle is an expensive article
nowadays, Selina, and you'll go off all the
sooner and better bcicause your old dad has
managed to collect a few halfpence for you.
By the w»y, that reminds me, how are you
getting on with Janet Oppenheim ?*
' Oh 1 viry well, papa 1 She keeps her
place aad xi not at all intrusive.'
' You have not discovered how much she
knows of her money matters T'
' I do not think she knows anything. She
always alludes to herself as very poor. Sho
picked up some old trimming 1 had thrown
away yesterday, and washed it, and did it
ap again for her own use.'
' That is well I and you must enuonrage
the idea,for I'm afraid the old lady's affaira
are in a bit of a muddle, and I can't afford
to part with loose cash just now when I may
want it at any time — en 1 Selina T'
Miss Selina blushed and looked as modest i
as if the baronet had proposed to her that
day instead of to Regina. The father and
daughter were a well-matched pair, and she j
had great faith in his powers of general-
ship.
' I understand, papa, and I don't think |
Janet will be ary trouble to us. I find her
most useful She is always ready to assist
me in any way, and very clever with her !
needle.'
' Well 1 I'm glad yon agree. Women!
Sflldom do. It's lucky there's no man to I
come between you. There'd be an end to I
your friendship then.'
' I should think Janet Oppenheim would I
know her position better than to attempt to|
cross my path in any way,' replied Selina,
grandly ; and then she added, descending to I
more mundane matters : ' For what day|
shall I invite Sir Arthur first, papa T'
' Let me see! To-morrow I go to Guildford, |
and the next day I have to meet Raddles.!
Shall we say Thuraday, Selina? Thursdsvl
will be as good a day as any, and give thel
man a little time to get over the unpleasant
uess he seems to have encountered to-day.l
And so it came to pass that the twdi
cousins were unwarily drawn into the ne
on the same day. Vivian to dine wit
L»dy William Nettleship's daughter, asdl
Sir 'Arthur with the daughter of Rufa
Farthingale. Decoyed, it is true, and int
the very jaws of danger, but it remains to 1
seen if either of them were caught.
Miss Janet Oppenheim went into
usual state oi fervent enthusiasm when i
was told that the baronet was to be the
guest on Thnrsday.
' Oh 1 dear Miss Farthingale, how muchj
shall admire him ! I feel it even before '
meet. He will have no eyes for me,
course ; but I shall sit like a quiet liUlj
mouse and watch all your happiness, and I
so proud if you find time to tell him that yo
look upon me as your little friend.'
Miss Oppenheim was not particular!;
small, but she always spoke of herself
though she were the tiniest thing in creatioij
Selina promised that she would give :
excellent character of her to their guest,
added in a condescending manner that i
muan't be frightened at Sir Arthur, vtj
was really of a most gracious disposition, i
sure to be well-disposed towards any onewlj
was a friend of her father's and herself,
the Thursdavin question, however, w
V
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
»
JBelinawaa momentarly expecting th« advent
|0f their viator, aha was ratlier atartled at
sing Miaa Oppenheim enter the room
[looking better than ahe had ever done
i before. A black velvet dreaa, made per*
' fectly plain, bat with a train that awept a
^ yard on the ground behind, set off the girl's
I extreme fairneaa to ita beat advantage, and
flent her tigare a dignity which it had want*
[•d hitherto.
' You need not have dressed up like that,'
lobserved Selina, sharply. ' There is no one
'^ It Sir Arthur coming ! It is not a dinner
Arty.'
' I know it, dear Miss Farthingale,' was
le meek rejoinder ; ' but I thought it was
»at reapeett'ul to any guest of yours, to ap-
'9ar as neatly attired as it is in my power to
lo.'
Selina had no opportunity of answering
j^ain, as at that moment Sir Arthur entered
(the room.
Whilst about the same time Vivian Chase-
[more dashed up in a hansom to the door of
idy William's apartments.
CHAPTER IX.
'H» rROPOSBS THIS ■VKNINO.'
You may be sure chat Regina was ready to
Ireceive him, dressed in her best, or rather in
|her most becoming costume. For *Ai9 taste
Dt this young lady, althougli she was so poor,
ras very fastidious. It was not in her pow-
to wear finery of the best description, and
lerefore she wore none at all. But she
>ked like a lily on its straight and slender
»m in her plain black dress, just artfully
it away to display the moulded throat
id rounded arms, and made without any
imming, except the soft lace that she
' washed and quilled with her own hands.
Dhere had been quite a battle-royal between
Ker mother and herself before she descended
the drawing-room that evening. Regina
lad entered Lady William's bedroom, and
letected her in the act of anointing and
iwdering her face with even more lavish
Bnerosity than usual.
Mamma,' the girl exclaimed, ' what an
braordinary delusion it is, on your part, to
lagine that- you do all you can to ad-
ice my prospects in the matrimonial
krket ! '
' What do you mean T ' demanded Lady
William, with the powder-puff suspended iu
its operations.
' Why, you say you want me to captivate
Tivian Ohasemore, and yon are doing the
[very thiag to drive him from us.'
'I do not understand you, Regina.'
' Do you think, mamma, that a man who
haa spent the last four years of his life npon
the stage, and been in the nightly habit of
seeing women painted and powdered to their
eyes, is likely to appreciate auoh a very bad
imitation of the professional process aa you
are about to give him ? '
'Really, Regina, your language to me is
unbearable,' cried Lady WUliaim, who was
most sensitive on the soore of any allusion
being made to her painting propensities,
although she * made-up ' so badly that an in-
fant might have detected the impoature.
* Alter all I have done with you — alter the
aaoriticea I have made, and the inoonvenien-
ces I have suffered for your sake, to be
spoken to in this ooarse manner is too much
--quite, quite too much t ' and Lady Wil-
liam stuck her powder-puff into her eye,
under the mistake that it waa her poket*
handkerchief, so overcome was she by the
conduct of her d»ught "x*.
' Now, mamma ! don't make a fuss about
it I we all know yon paint -who could help
knowing it ? — but I wish you'd do it with
moderation for this one evening. If year
object in asking Mr. Chasemore here is to se-
cure him for a son-in-law, I feel quite sure he
would prefer to see you as you are, than with
any amount of rouge on.'
' Rouge I ' almost screamed Lady William.
' You wicked, cruel girl ! to mention such a
thing to me, « hen you know the exteut of
what I use is a little violet powder to prevent
the spraying of my skin 1 '
Regina did not kuow anything of the
kind, but it was to her interest to pretond to
do so.
' Of course, uiamma ! But don't put on
even the violet powder to-night. I am sure
Mr. Chasemore will prefer tiimplicity and
ingeniousness to any amount of meretricious
attraction.^ It will only be for{a(little,whil«.
you know. We can do as we like when
mattors are settled, and we see our way
more plainly before us.'
' Meretricious ! ' repeated her mother, aa
she rose and walked to the washing- stand.
'That I should have lived to hear such a
term applied to me by my own flesh and
blood. Will that please you. Miss Nettle-
ship 7 ' she continued viciously, as she
sponged every remnant of rouge and
powder from her face with warm water and
dried it carefully with the towel.
' Oh yes, mamma 1 You look ten times
nicer now,' replied Regina, complacently
as she regarded the renoution of her own
fair neck &nd arms in the lookiug-glubs.
Poor Lady William's skin was like a
wrinkled glove now that the creases were
no longer tilled with paste and powder, and
■M
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
I'i
yet it ii doubtful if her daufihter'i words
were not true.
Old tfte. however ugly, ii »Iwayi rendered
worae by ^^hoae Artitioial adoromente which
even the sinootheit ileah can soaroely bear
with impunity. Regioa greatly preferred
ihat her mother ahould appear like a yellow
mummy to Vivian Ohaaemore, than with
white and red cheeks. She was not afraid
of any unfavourable oomparisona being
established between them, for she did not
resemble her maternal parent in any degree,
but took after her fair Kaired, handsome,
roUiokiuK father, who had rua through his
constitution and his patrimony in the tirst
few years of marrii^d life, and left his widow
{^nd child to dra^ through Ihe world as best
they might, on the sii.all pittance which
had formed his wife's settlement.
Reginft may have been contented, there-
fore, out Lady William was anything but
pleued. He daughter was subjected to a
very severe lecture on ingrutitude and want
of nlial respect before she ^as permitted to
deioend to the drawing-room, and it was
only the opportune arrival of Vivian Chase-
more's cat) tht enabled her to effect her
escape. But she exhibited no traced of the
warfare she had passed through as she wel-
comed him, calmly and gracefully, to her
mother's dwelling. To Vivian, who had
been thrown so much amongst a class in*
ferior to hia own, she appeared the very in-
carnation of good breeding and birth. It
has been already said that this young man
had never felt himself at home iu the pro-
fession he had adopted for hia support. Hd
had been born for better things. AlthiiUgh
he was headstrong, impulaive and passionate
he was not intended by nature for disaipa*
tion in any of ita lower forms. Coaraeneas.
ribaldry, and debauchery he revolted from,
and intimate aaaociation with hia ir'eriors
however good and kind they might be, had
never had the v>ower to please him. He
could be grateful to them for their goodness
— he often had been — yet he snrauk from
their in^vuiate society.
Consequently, he had lived much alone,
with leisure to nurse hia own dreams of a
future which he had never expected to see
realised. He had been too young when he
left his home to know much about women.
Tbose whom he had seen since had not, as a
I ule, realised his conceptions of what the sex
should be. There are women upon the stage
at the present day who are ladies both by
birth and education, but they are few and
{at between, and keep much to themselves,
jealously guarded by their mothers or their
husbands. With such, Vivian had not had
the good fortune to be associated ; and the
iris who had played upou the stage witli |
im, and hung about the green-rooms, talk-
ing, laughing, and flirting with half-a-dozen |
different men every evening, had lowered, j
rather than raised, his ideal of womanhood,
ludeed, at the moment that Mr. Farthingale I
had surprised him upon the tirst floor of Mra,
Bell's apartments Vivian had begun to look
upon tne other ses not as inferior to hii|
ow:, perhaps, but certainly as upon some-
tuiug that had been created to be petted and I
carsessed when good, and taken to task when
naughty, aud never to be held aocouutable j
for the execution of and folly when left to iti |
own devices.
Upon such a m«n, accustomed to the I
sound of bad grammar, and sometimes bad!
words— to the sight of false hair, painted!
lips, and flaunting finery, the appearance of I
Itiagina Nettleship had much the same effect I
as the pure cool dew of morning might have!
had after a nighl of bad gas, bad liquor, and [
dirty cards.
She looked so reticent and modest as shA|
tendered him her hand. Her pale clear com- 1
plexiou had surely never known the use of i
rouge or powder , indeed, he doubted if she I
was ever acquainted with the name of thoBel
odious cosmetics. Regina knew them w«ll!
enough, as we are aware, and had used them|
too, bometimes — just- a ' soupgon ' at the openl
or at an evening party, to heighten theeffeatl
of her eyes — but she always did it so delicate>|
ly that she defied detection, and had never!
admitted the fact even to her mamma.
Then, her dress was so neat and simple^!
without a single ribbon or flower ; and herf
pale gold hair was so exquisitely arranged,!
like the classic heads of !:*ie Olympian god-l
desses. Vivian only saw the outside of MiHl
^lettleship, and he gave her credit for po»|
sessing all the good qualities whicn her er[
terior seemed to indicate. Even Lady Wil
liam's palsied and forbidding countenance!
was powerless to detract from her daughter'*!
charms. He saw how unlike they wers, andf
felt no fear that Rec,'ina''8 old age should ii|
anywise resemble her mother's. He pas
what seemed a delightful evening with hii
new acquaintances. The dinner was ver
simple, but everything was well cooked
and no apology (that most certain sign
want of good breeding) was - made for the!
poverty of the poverty of the repast. A feiri
flowers bloomedin a bowl in the centre of th
table, and as they left it Kegina took a dt
mask rose and fastened it into the front of hei
dress. How it scented the atmosphere as ilT
nestled amongst the hice that encircled hetj
throat, and fell and rnse with the pulsations o
her snowy bosom, as Vivian sat cloHe b< no|
after dinner and talked about his past life.!
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL
41
)u the sUge witb
greea-roomSi talk-
with haH-a*duzeD
ling, h»d lowered,]
eaf of womanhood.
«t Mr. Farthingale
he tirat floor of Mrs,
had begun to look
b as inferior to hii|
inly aa upon aome-
;ed"to be petted and
I taken to task when
le held acoouctable
folly when left to its I
aooustotned to the!
and sometimea bad!
false hair, painted I
\f, the appearance oi I
ftuoh the same eflfectl
morning might have I
gas, bad liquor, and
it and modest as slw
Her pale clear com I
ir known the use of
id, he doubted if she
th the name of those
zina knew them well
e, and had used theml
• soupgoa ' at the open
to heighten theeffeat
[ways did it so delicate-
ition, and had neveri
to her mamma,
ras so neat and simple,!
,n or flower ; and herj
exquisitely arranged,
f ••■he Olympian god
aw the outside of Min
(re her credit for poa-
lalities whioii hbr ei
fcte. Even Lady W:l-
orbidding countenand
jot from her daughteri
unlike they wero, and
la's old age should it
mother's. He passed
itful evening with hul
The dinner was vei-
,ng was well cookef
; most certain sign
,g) was made for the|
y of the repast. Afe«|
owl in the centre of tl
if t it Kegina took a dj
d it into the front of h«
ad the atmosphere as itl
luce that encircled he]
le with the pulsations ofl
Vivian sat clone b' n"'!
led about his past m\
ly William had been wise eaoaah to
: the Macdongal to join their party K>r ih«
Bsaw that without some 4Uoh aid Regina
lid be unable to say a word alone
Mr. Chaaemore, and she trusted to her
ightei-'s strategy too well not to know
kt, giveu the opportunity, she would make
use of it. The Macdongal, although
y^ of Lady William's bitterest foes behind
|r back, was, after the fashion of female
mds in this dear innocent city of London,
too ready to eat her dinners or suppers
she had nothing better in prospect.
{ihe old women retreated to the back
ing-room to talk such scandal as might
good to them, whilst Vivian and Uegina
juced themselves in two low chairs at
lopeu window in front, and looked through
[lace curtains at the crrriages and pedss-
IB still lineering iu the Park.
{Sensible people,' quoth Vivian, ' to be
enough to enjoy the best part of the
instead of shutting themselves up in
[ rooms or hotter theatres oii Huch a warm
It as this. Do you not thiok so, Miss
leship T*
yes I I perfectly agree with yon,'
led Regina. (No one cared less for
Itingales and moonshiue than she did, or
~ crowded rooms and nmall talk more.,
It would have been very bad generalship
sy so.) 'If I had a carriage,' with a
I laugh at the absurdity of the idea, 'I
]d use it to drive away into the beautiful
|try, and see the fields and ths flowers,
'le dear little cottage children. '
[on love the country, then ?*
yes, I think so. I have never lived
|rou know,' said Regina, with a sudden
iment, in case Mr. Chaaemore had a
aversir n in that direction. ' My
ipapa, Lord Mudford, has a beautiful
in Gloucestershire. I believe it is a
paradise, but va have nothing to do
lat, you dee. Poor papa waa only the
Cion. It was h?>.rdly to be supposed he
Ibe rich.*
leed no ! -With your simple tastes,
iettleship, I suppose it is useless to
if you care for the theatre ?'
she wished an ange! would suddenly
i^^and reveal to her what he thought
subjent himself. He would hardly
lopted the stage if he had not liked
pfessiou.but at the same time he might
)wn heartily sick of everything con-
with it. She felt comp^rslled in betting
je, to ' hedge ' — and no one could do
ire naturally than Regina Nettle-
entirely depends upon the actors,
semore, and the play. '
' True ; but yon have the beat talent at
your very doors in London. '
* Yet we go so seldom that perhaps I hav*
not had sufficient experience to be able to
indge of my own feelings on the subject,
Mamma is a great invalid, you know ' (she
could not possibly err in making a point of
fllial duty, Regina thought) ; ' and of courae
I never leave her. But I have spent Home
very pleasant evenings at the theatre, with
friends whom I likecL Everything depends
so much on the people you are with, does it
not?'
' Indeed it does. Rut I feel sure your
intellect must respond to the expositions of
some of the great actors and actresses we
have upon the stage at present. To Irving
f>r instance, and Ellen Terry, antl the
Kendals and Bancrx>fts. I could name »
dozen others, but 1 think the art of these
very womanly women must appeal forcibly
to their own sex. ' j
' Oh yes. But is not the reason of that
because they chose such sweet and innocent
parts, and act them so naturally that they
appear like nature? Which brings us back
to my first conclusion, that the ^st part of
life must be that which is natural and gcod ;
and therefore the flowers and sunshine and
the birds and child>'en appeal to the higheat
senses which we possess.'
Vivian was enchanted with this speech,
although it did not entirely coincide with his
own sentiments. He had never lieard any-
thing like it from the lips of a woman before,
and it expressed the very feelings that he
associated with innocence and purity, dow
could he tell that in poc r Bonnie's rou' b, un-
tutored mind there existed higher ard purer
ideas than had ever entered (or ever would
enter) iuto that of Rt:f{ica Netuieahip ? He
looked at the delicately-cut features, at the
shapely outline. He listened to the softly,
eon n elated syllables — the perfect pronuncia*
tion, I'ud he lelieved, without a single doubt,
that the spe'^ker's words were but a reflection
of her 30ul. In he the flrst man who has
been ent'apped bv similar means to mistake
coldness for purity, and e.^lf-command for
want of guile ?
He left the little house in Knightsbridge
that evening, fully persuaded that Misa
Nbttleship was one of the most charming
women he had ever met, and his cousin the
nnluckiest of men. Not that be was iu the
least surprised, now that he had talked fami*
liarly with her, that she had rejected the idea
of being Sir Arthur's wife with scorn . She
was a thousand times too good for him ;
Arthur was not intellectual He had the
most commonplace ideas on all subjects ; and
was it likely that a girl like Regina Nettle*
'd^!^'-'i
■MPiP
42
THE ROOr OF ALL EVIL.
■hip, who lived in « beaatifal world of her
owo, far above the sordid everyday lives of
her mercenary fellow-creatures, should have
stooped to assimilate herself with a a,xa who
thouf(ht of little else but his dinner and his
clothes. She had hinted as much to Vivian
in the most delicate manner in the world, as
■he placed the parcel containing the bracelet
in his hand.
* This unlucky bracelet i he had exclaimed
on tnac occasion ' How I wish I had lost it
altogether I It reminds me of the disoom-
finture of our trrst meeting. What a fool I
must have looked in your eyes. Miss Nettle-
■hip?'
' Oh, pray don't say that ! The mistake
was uufortunate, I own ; but I shall never
forget the gouerosity which prompted you to
please Sir Arthur by the purchase.'
* He entirely misled me.'
.' He did mdeed 1 And he entirely misled
himself into tlie bargain.'
'I suppose his wish was father to the
thought, returned Vivian, with &n upward
glance ; ' and I do not wonder at it. Poor
wretch ! be has paid dearly for his presump.
tiou.'
' Mr. Chasemore, 1 want you to believe
that itwaspresumptioUf'said Retina, sweetly.
' I should not have mentioned the subject, if
you had not introduced it ; but since you
have, let me tell you that Sir Arthur had no
reason to believe I should accept his offer.
He thought doubtless that he was too good
a match for a penniless girl to refuse ; but he
did not know that '
' W hat is that he did not know ?' demand-
ed Vivian, with interest.
' That I look tor something higher in
marriage that for a man to feed me and
clothe me and keep a roof over my head.
Sir Arthur is very good-looking and pleasant;
but my iusband (if I ever have one) must
be my intellectual superior as well as my
friend.'
'That is just it,' Vivian thought, as he
■trolled homeward to his hotel. ' Arthur is
not half good enough for a girl like that I
She wants a man who is well-read and well-
informed, and has sufficient brain to appreciate
his own education. Arthur is wrapped up in
his law-books, and is about as prosaic as a
creature can well be. He has not the least
atom of poetry in his composition. He
would have wearied a girl with Miss Nettle-
■hip's tastes in a month. '
And without exactly deciding ihat his own
liking for those subjects on which his cousin
fell short would render him a more desirable
companion in Begina's eyes, Mr. Vivian
Cliasemore was certainly bettei inclined to-
wards himself and life in general, as he
turned into bed that ni((ht, than h« had
for some time previously.
He had not left Lad;^ William and
daughter without receiving a cordial inviti
tion from the elder lady to come and
them again. He reminded her so pleasanti
she averred, of his poor dear father, who I
been a flame of hers in her maiden days ; i
that she had never seen General Ohasemo
during her lifetime, and that Vivian did i
in the slightest degree resemble him,was otj
the least obstacle to the interchange of cun
pliments between these two worldliujji
Vivian was flattered by the interest show
in him by both ladies, and pleased
secure the opportunity of seeing more of tij
Jrounger one. Her statuesque and passioi
ess beauty had first attracted him ;
reserved and apparently uiiapproachalj
manner drew him on still further, and
idea of succeediog where Sir Arthur
failed was no slight element in strengthen
his wish to improve the acquaintance. HJ
many of us, I wonder, value our vioMa
solely on account of the honour we gaiu I
them 7 How many would struggle to a
ceed, unless a crowa stood by to cheer
conqueror, and one or two hearts were iiJij
with bitter envy at our success 7 Vivian i
no better and no worse than the rest of
world. He took a wicked pleasure in letti
his cousin know, in a casual manner, boj
man}' times in the week he had been at ]
William's apartments, or accompanied i
ladies in their afternoon drive in a
brougham which was occasionally hired f
their convenience.
' Oh, you are keeping up that acquaint
then 1' Sir Arthur had onod remarked >|
apparent indiilereuce, though in rea.lity «|
jealous heartburning, as he listened f
Vivian'fi acuount of an evening spent
Lady WUliam and her daughter at
Italian Opera, although the latter forgot|
add that he had presented the box for
acceptance.
•Yes I W^hy should I not?' replied!
cousin, in much the same words as he f
answered the same query on the day ofl
Arthur's rejection. ' You are not fiuch i|
in the manger, my dear fellow, isurely, i
object to mj' knowing your friends
you happen to have dropped them 1
don't you go tb<tre yourself sometimes!
can assure you that Kegina — I mean
Nettleship— bears you no enmity. Sheo
asks after your health, and, if I remed
rightly,on the daj' you made that unfortuj
little mistake, hhe said she hoped you \
continue to be friends.'
' Oh yes ; I dare say 1 Be friends
girl who misled me in so disgraceful s i
m
THE ROOT OF AiX EVIL.
48
ping upth»t acquaint
had oncd remarked »l
ce, though in re«,Uty »*
ingt M he listened {
if an evening spent
d her daughter at
,ough the latter forgotj
fesented the box for •
aould I notr replied j
tie same words as he I
9 query on the day oil
• You are not ^uch >|
r dear fellow, surely,
ring your friends V'
re dropped them 1
e youraelf sometiiaetl
lat Regina— I mean I
I you no enmity. Shet
,alth, and, if I temd
f you made that unf ortuj
B said she hoped you "^
ends.'
re say 1 Be fnends
Minso disgraceful si
I suppose she wants to whistle mo
w again, now that I am gone 1 But she
lold hare taken the ohauoe whilst it was in
power. I shall not visit there again in a
''It's your loss,' replied Vivian coolly,
liough he felc very much inclined to give
Arthur a piece of his mind, on the
bject. 'But as for wishing to "whistle
^a back," that's all nonsense. Miss Nettle-
ip refused your advances most decidedly,
H in 'my presence. There is no getting
i of that. Besides, it is rumoured all over
I that you are paying your addressoN to
J Farthingale. Haven't you heard it ? '
[Keither heard it, nor done it, nor mean
lo it ; so you may contradict the report
lever it reaches you. Seliua Farthiu-
indeed 1 A beetle-browed old maid
a yellow skin i Thank you for the
ipliment, Vivian , but I hope I've got
her better taste than that.'
j Oh, my dear fellow, I'm not answerable
' the treason I ' cried his cousin, laughing.
have thought old Farthingale's money -
1 might have some attraction for you;
if they were inseparably coupled with
I beetle-browed daughter — the gilding to
[black pill — ' que voudries-vous ? ' A man
ametimes left no choice in these matters.
'[ the bags would have to be hlled to the
ly brim forme.'
"There is no truth whatever in the story,'
'•ated Sir Arthur, ' though the money
lid be acceptable enough. But the lady
"pt to my taste..'
' I might have added that the hopes he
entertained with regard to Regina
ilwhip had rendered Miss Farthingale
i more displeasing to him th«n she would
brwiae havp bco;*. But some intuition
le him hold his tongue. He had already
m to suspect that Vivian might end by
ng the citadel which had refused to sue-
b to him. And the thought m«>de him
'bitter.
|or one- two months Vivian Chasemore
iued to come and go at Lady William
Veship's. He was acquainted by that
|with numerous good families, and was
^come guest at many houses. The
had opened their hospitable doors
Mrs. Macdougal of Maodougal had
red him out of more than one dinner; the
hingales had ' feted ' the righ^ul heir ;
fttie smaller fry of Kunnymedes and
lites of that kin had worshipped the
lid he trod on. He was member of two
ree fashionable clubs ; had a smart set
tmbers and a • valet-dechambre ' in the
By ; and drove apair of the handsomest
tuts in town. The season ran on, with I
its wealth of dinners, suppers, balls, and
card-parties ; yet, though Vivian was over*
whelmed with invitations of all sorto, and
had scarcely a spare moment to call his « wn,
very few afternoons passed without his find*
ing the time to call at the little house in
Knightabridge, if it were only to leave a bou-
quet of flowers or a couple of stalls fur the
opera, or to inquire after the health of Ludy
William and her daughter. On several e ven*
ings he presented himself at their rooms,
modestly thoush without invitation, to crave
permission to seek refuge from the glare and
the bustle of his outside life in the cool and
the shade of the lace-curtained drawing-room.
And those evenings were always tptut close
by Regina's side — sometimes ' tute-a-tete '
with her — diicussiug their mutual tastes, so-
cial and intellectuM, and finding with each
fresh interview how marvellously well their
views agreed upon every topic of importance.
All this familiar intercourse and interchange
of thought had its due effect upon an impres-
sionable young man of iive-aud-twenty, who
was free to make his choice in marriage, and
indulge it as soon as convenient. So that to*
wards the close of the London season and just
as Lady William was wondering whether it
was not her duty as a mother to give Vivian
Chasemore a lift over the carrier of
uncertainty which stood between him-
self and her dauehter, she was
not in the least surprised, though very much
gratified, to hear Regina say, as if it were the
most unimportant thing in the world :
' It is all right, mamma 1 He proposed
this evening, and we intend to be married
the first week in September.'
CHAPTER X.
'SKTTLBHINTS.'
Regina had conveyed this piece of news to
her mother's bedroom, whither Lady William
had retired rather earlier than usual, leaving
ber daughter to make the last adieux to Mr.
Vivian Chasemore under the romantic covei
of the moonlighted balcony . She had never
been effusive in her demonstrations of affeo*
tion for Regina, but the knowledge that she
stood on the threshold of becoming the pos-
sessor of fifty thousand pounds was too much
for Lady William's maternal feelings.
' Oh, my precious child 1' she exclaimed.
' My sweet, sweet girl 1 is it really^ the case T
Of course I knew It must be coming ;,but to
hear that you and dear Mr. Chasemore have
arrived at an understanding at last,ia indeed
good news. And to be married in Septem*
ber, too ; scarcely a month hence I And
naturally he will make ahandsome settlement
y
44
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
upon yon. It would be aa uaheard of thing
if he did not. '
Regina utood by the dresiing-table whilst
her mother was pouring these congratulations
upon her, with something very like a sneer
upon her face. She loved money and the
luxuries it procured for their own sake, but
■he d«spised the proffers of affection and
friendship whish she had known beforehand
would spring np in every direction as soon
as she obtained it.
' Do you think it likely, miinma, that as
soon as the man asked me to be his wife, I
sprang at him to ascertain what settlement
hu intended to make? Of course Mr.
Chasemore will du all that is necessary or
usual on such occasions ; but I should be a
fool to make him cry off his liargaiu by. ap-
pearing too eager and grasping.'
' WeU, perhaps you are right, Regina.
You are a very sensible girl, my dear, and
a great credit to yonr mother's rearing. But
now tell me all about it : what he said, and
how he looked, and the answer you gave
him.'
* He said very little, and he looked much
the same as usual, and I answered " Yes." '
' Really, Retina, you are enough to pro-
Toke a saint ! My only child, too, and
when you must know how anxious I feel. '
' Well, mamma ! I suppose I must indulge
your feminine curiosity. We were standmK
by the window together when the elastic
that strings my jet bracelet broke — in fact,
to tell you the truth, I broke it on purpose,
to give him the opportunity to fasten it
round my arm again. He's absurdly bash-
ful.'
Yes— yes,, dear ! I quite understand ! go
on!' cried Lady William, eagerly.
'He picked up the beads, and I restrung
them, and I asked him to tie thorn on. He.
held my wrist in his hnnd for a moment, and
said he wished he could see the bracelet he
kad bought for me on it. 1 replied that that
was quite impossible, and you would never
allow me to accept so handsome a present
from any gentleman — unless he were ray
fianuoe. Then all the rest came easy, you
know.'
• Of course, but.let me hear it, dear. '
' How childish > ou are, mamma. A baby
might guess what followed. He asked mo if
I would take it from my fiancee -if I would
take it from him l I replied, "But we are
not fiancees, Mr. Chasemore ;" and he said,
" Let us be so then, Regina — make me
happy. Say you will be my wife. " Then
the usual oemnonies followed, you know. I
let him ask nio three or four times before I
answered "Yes," aud then he kissed me
three or four times, and pestered me to uime
a day ; so I fixed the 8th of September, whid
will give me nearly a month to get my thiaJ
ready in, and he talked all sorts of nensenitj
and then he went away. And that is thi
beginning and the end of the whole aff urj
concluded Miss Nettleship, aa she fluni
herself into a chair and yawned, as if it hi
wearied her.
It was quiie evident that her heart w»
not the chief thin;^ concerned in the engaf(«;
ment she had just entered into. Uow manrl
hearts go,up.to the marriage altar with tho
white satin-encased and lace-beshroude
figures ? Not many, I fear, in this degrade
age of barter, when the term of ' holy matril
mony ' has become a mockery o' the 8ham4
less open sales of bodies and souls that tab
place under the sanction of the Church.
'The 8th of .September,' repeated Lad]]
William, her matronly mind running on tl
chief busines!',in fljmother's eyea,of awed'lii
namely the trousseau. * That is a very ahorj
time to get your things in— and, oh dears
wherever am I to find the money to bap
them? I really think your grandfathq
might help us at a crisis like this. Do yo
think I could venture to write to him Regina
It would be no use appealing to your uacl^
the marquis, he is so horribly stingy ; bm'
Lord Charles might give something towar
your outfit. He married a rich stockbroker'
daughter, you know, a woman with no eu
of money, and I do not suppose that
would feel the loss of a few hundred poundtl
' Mamma ! I will not have you write ii
any one of them. They have always treatei
us shamefully, and I would rather bemarrie
in a print dress than owe a halfpenny to tb«
bounty.' '
' It is all very well for you to say tha^
Regina, but how am I to get a trousse
without help ? '
*Yon must do as others do; I snppo
Get the things on credit, and pay off by dtj
grees. You will be relieved of the expen
of keepins; me, remember.'
' Yes, yes, Re;^ina ! You are very eleverj
of course that will be the way,' acquiescaT
Lady William, suddenly remembering th^
when her daughter was once Mrs. Chasemoi
it would not be difficult to get Vivian to hi
her to pay off debts incurred for his wifel
clothes. ' We must begin to see about the
t :)-morrow, my dear. A month is no timeil
which to get a trousseau ready, and Madam
Helene always keeps your dresses for
long ! How astonished the Stingoes will
to hear the news, and the Farthingales
I wonder if old Farthingale had any idea^
getting him for Selina? If so, they willi
terribly disappointed. Shall you write atj
JTHE ROOT OF ALL EVn*
that her heart w*
lernud in the engafid
ed iuto. How minti
riage altar with tho.., .
ind lace-beshroudeclj
fear, in this degrade
> term of ' holy tnatri
Mskery o' the shaniM
s and aoula that tak
n of the Church,
ober,' repeated Ladi
mind running on tl
er'seyei.of awed'Hi
* That is a very ahoH
ga in— and, oh dearl
I the money to ba^
ok your grandfathel
is like this. Do yof
» write to him Begina
lealing to your unclj
horribly stingy ; bo'
ve somethiojK toward
ed a rich stockbroker!
i woman with no en
lot suppose that
few hundred pound
)t have you write
ly have always treata
ould rather be marrie
Ne a halfpenny to tb«
You are very eleverl
the way,' acquiesc/
oly remembering thil
a once Mrs. ChasenKJ
It to get Vivian to W
ncurred for his mU]
egin to see about the
A nionth is no time il
kU ready, and Madani
. your dresses for ij
id the Stingoes will
the Farthingales tc
ingale had any idea*
If so, they willi
Shall you write ad
iao« your engagement to them, or trvet
rir hearing it by ohanoe ?'
don't care which I do ; but we may at
{let them hear it for themselvea. I don't
i them to think I am too eager in the
»r, and Virian is sure to tell bis cousin,
krthur, the first thing.'
Lh, my dear ! what a pity it is that you
In't have had both tne title and the
sy. You ought to have been " my lady,"
la. I should have died the easier if I
havhe eard you called so. '
^ell, it has never brought yon much
mamma, that I can see,' was the
_ lady's reply, as she took her oandle-
I and walked off to bed.
was mistaken in thinking that Sir Ar-
Jwas the first person to whom his cousin
Id communicate the stroke of good fortune
Tbad befallen him. Vivian was more shy
Dling his engagement to Sir Arthur than
|ty one. He had already supplanted him in
Srandfather's yrill — he had now won for
f the woman whom his cousin had
sd to make his wife - and he felt for his
^e disappointment, and was proportion-
^delicate in forcing the truth upon his
But he took an early opportunity of
king the news to the Farthingales, who
of course delighted to hear it, and
ly sincere in their congratulations,
had never entertained any hopes
sting Vivian Chasemore : had not
' to entertain any. Her heart — such
iras — was fixed upon the baronet, and
Ival she had most dreaded was Regina
"ahip. To hear that she would so soon
ly disposed of was the best news in
i>rld, and she flew at Sir Arthur with
ktelligence on the very first occasion of
tmeeting.
|on must let me congratulate you, dear
rthur — you must let us all congratulate
Dn the very happy news of your cousin's
sment to Miss Nettleship. She is such
Itiful, elegant creature ! they will make
I handsome couple. What a pity they
not have been married during the
I expect half London would have
the church only to look at them !'
Il^rthur was staggered by this intelli-
but he showed no further signs of
than were conveyed by his turning
le and suddenly taking a seat. He
If feared that Vivian's constant visits
Nettteships might end in a mutual
itauding, but it was a great ahock to
hear it had oome to pass so soon and
sctedly.
( you sure your information is correct,
Farthingale ?' he stammered. ' I saw
my ooasin yesterday, and he never mentioned
the circumstance to me.'
' How very strange ! His engagement
must have turned his brain ! Oh yes, it is
certainly true. Sir Arthur, for Mr. Chasemore
told us so himself ; and I had a note from
Regiaa this morning, in answer to one from
me, in which sne says she is to be married
the second week in September. If you will
excuse me for one moment I wUl show it
you, I left it on my toilet cushion;' and
away tnpped Selina Farthingale, to give the
unfortunate barouet time to recover himself.
She could not help seeing the effect the
news had had upon him, and inwardly re-
joiced to think that at least this must put an
end to his folly, and leave the field open to
nerself.
Sir Arthur, left alone, rose from his obair,
and having passed his handkerchief across
his brow, paced up and down the room three
or four times in quok succession.
' Going to marry him ! ' he thought, »^ he
did so — ' going to marry him I Curse wnem
both 1 First, the money — now, the woman I
He walks over the course in everything.
And she too I false, black-hearted little jade.
She threw me over for him,aud nothing else.
Had his return been delayed «welve hours
longer, she would have been engaged to me.
Yet where would have been the use T A
woman who could go as far as she did, ai.d
then deny her own words, would have no
hesitation in breaking an engagement, er a
marriage either for the matter of that. May
ill-fortune follow them both to the end of
tneir days, and may my turn to laugh
come yet ! That is the best wish I shall
have for Mr. and Mrs. Vivian Chasemore on
their wedding-day. '
He was interrupted in his reverie by the
sound of a soft cough from one of the re*
cesses near tne windows, and turning sad-
denly encountered the modest figure and
droopins; glance of Miss Janet Oppenheim.
The baronet grew red at the discovery. JS „
one could have read his unspoken thoughts,
but it n.u8t have been easy to connect his
restless movements with the intelligence his
hostess had communicated to him.
'Forgive me, Miss Oppenheim,' he
murmured ; • I believed myself to be alone.
But I need not conceal from yon I am
rather annoyed that my cousin should have
left the new:; of his intended marriage to be
told me by a stranger. '
' I think it was most inconsiderate of him.
Sir Arthur— m»y I say, ungrateful 1 Miss
Farthingale has only dropped a word before
me here and there, but I have heard suffi-
cient to appreciate the noble generosity with
which you welcomed Mr. Chasemore to his
46
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
home mgtin, and th« mauM mdm he hM ozhi'
bited for yonr forbearauoe.'
Hia conduot had nerer yet stniok the bar-
onet in this light, but now that it was placed
before him, he law plainly what a aaoritioe he
had made on Vivian's behalf, and felt grate-
ful to the person who had opened his eyes to
his own beneficence.
'Indeed, Miss Oppenheim, yon rate my
conduct too highly . I have only done what I
thought to be my duty. But my oouaiu
might have prepared me for this. He has
always insisted to me that he was not a
marrying man, and although his intentions
in this respect could have made no difference
to me, one does not care to be taken by sur-
prise in this humdrum jog-trot world.'
" May not Mr. Chasemore have had some
ulterior motives for keeping his engagement
a secret?' demanded his fair companion,
with the shortdst possible glance from her
feline eyes ; ' perhaps the young lady felt, as
she ought to feel, too much ashamed of her
choice to wish it made public sooner than
was necessary.'
'Is it possible you can have heard! ^^-«om-
menced the baronet anxiously.
' That you once conteiiplated doing Miss
Nettleship the honour of ' making her your
wife, Sir Arthur,' rejoined Miss Oppenheim,
with a low silvery laugh, • Why her folly
was the talk of the town! Indeed, ^onr
great generosity in this, Pj ia other thmgs,
is not unknown to your acquaintances,
only we cannot add that it has been unre*
warded.'
You think her unworthy, then T'
' Unworthy of that !' repeated Miss Op-
penheim, with a world of emphasis upon the
preposition. 'Oh, Sir Arthur! you are
strangely blind to your own merits and the
shortcomings of others ! However one may
blame Miss Nettleship, one cannot but con
gratulate you !'
' £ dare say you are right,' he said with a
sigh ; ' I had almost arrived at the same
concluaior myself. But I have been a very
unfortuna ^e man lately, and I think fate must
be against me.'
* I should have said you were one of the
most favoured of mortals,' replied Miss
Oppenheim, always with the same air of
self -depreciation ; ' but doubtless we argue
on different premises. '
'I do not understand your meaning.'
' You think of what you have lost in
others,' said the young lady, * and I, of what
others gain in you.'
He was just considering what a sweet
sympathising little creature she was, and
whether he might venture to toll her so,
when the door opened to re-admit Minj
Farthingale.
' Here is Regina's noto, she exclaimed ;|
'so now you can read it. Sir Arthur, and!
convince yourself that my information wh|
correct.'
' I never had the least doubt of yonr word,'!
he replied, as she glanced at the lettor ihi|
handed him.
' There it is plain enough, you see.'ihtl
continued volubly. They are to be mari
ried on the 8th of September and to paMl
the winter in Rome. I wonder what oIm
Lady William will, do without her daughterj
She will be dull enough in lodgings ul hi
Sir Arthur returned the noto without codJ
ment.
' You don't look over-pleased about it,|
said Selina,for she was jealous and angry
the manner in which he had taken tb
news, and could not resist lettingfhim knoJ
that she had perceieyd it« 'Don't youcoi(
aider the match good enough for Mr. Cha
more?'
' Vivian has money and can afford
please himself. Miss Farthingale. I h«vi
nothing to do with his matrimonial
fairs.'
' Perhaps you are afraid Regina will ni
make him a good wife. She is a dreadff
flirt, you know I I have heard her talked (
myself, with at least half-a-dozen men thj
season.'
^, . ' Then I trust, as she is so soon to
connected with me by marriage, Miss F^
thingale, that you will cont-radict the repoj
whenever you may hear them,' replied;
Arthur, as he took up hia hat and bowj
himself gravely out of the room. Selisi
coarse sympathy, which took the fortn]
abuse of hec rival, annoyed him. He
not aeemed to mind Janet Oppenhiem n^
tioning'the subject of his rejection, but fn
the lips of Selina Farthingale he felt|
\yould be unreliable. And he owed Viri
no less a grudge for the secrecy he
maintained towards him, that ithadsubjed
him to hear the news from the lips of j
lawyer's daughter.
When the cousins next met, it was ^
coldly, at all events on the baronet's
and not many minutes had elapsed be|
the subject that was irritatii'^ him contl
the surface.
^' I should have thought that it was stij
due to me, as head of the family, to be|
first informed of the change in yourprosp
Vivian.'
'Well, look here, i^ld fellow,' replied!
other, in his frank, ei'.sy manner : ' if I|
engaged myself to ai.ybody else, it
'"^T^Tl^
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
47
to re-admit Mwl
he note without cool
next met, it waai
m on the baronet si
atea had elaP»«*^%
irritatin'^ hitu conwl
.ought that it WW atll
^ o! the family, to Wl
.change in yourprosp*
[been different ; hot, hang it all i y6u
after what had paased between yon
ef(ina, I did feel a little modest aboot
iff and nonaenae I' rejoined Sir Arthar .
that yon will, at all events, let that
i drop for the future. Granted that I
, and admired her, your own taste haa
mine ; but beyond that, my dear
matters never w«at : and you must
my word for it that I would have
SB altered from what it now is, for the
a're a real good fellow!' exclaimed
, heartily ; ' and wherever I may be,
^ always be a knife and fork for you at
ble, Arthur. Don't forget that ! And
rhen will you come round with me and
^na again ? I know she'll be pleased
^ke hands with you ; and we are to be
1 in ten days, you know. You will be
st man, won't yon ?'
1th pleasure ! And as for the visit, I
ay that whenever it is convenient to
~ :and Miss Nettleship.'
^t us say to-morrow, then, and I'll call
_ at three. I can't offer to take you
k though I am juit going there myself;
uve an appointment to meet old Farth-
faboutthe settlements.'
tlements 1' repeated the baronet, open-
_J eyes. ''
fell, not exactly that, old boy,' returned
t, laughing;. * You know ic is not in
rer Ui make settlements ; but I wish
Jl^iliiam and her daughter to under*
[.thoroughly the provisions of my
^there's will before the marriage takes
exactly! You are perfectly rifliht,'
cousin . ' At three to-morrow, then.
Bvoir !" ' \/ith which he strode away,
Vivian to jump into his mail-phaeton,
ive to his appointment with the law-
come about in this wise : Lady
i had po frequently made allusions to
isent penniless condition of her
sr, and'her happiness at the idea that
lid now be amply provided for during
4me, that Vivian had thought it best
she and Regina should be made
Bd with the conditions under which
mne had bequeathed him the fifty
is pounds. And these conditions
^ore fitted to proceed from a lawyer's
[lover's lips, he had appointed Mr.
7arthingale to meet him at Knights-
i:that afternoon, for the purposes of
Ition.
iterview with his cousin had some-
lelayed him, and when he entered
Lady William's drawing-room he found the
little lawyer already nloaeted with the
ladies.
' Here oomes the hero of the day I' ex-
claimed Mr, Farthingale,faoetioosly, as Viv-
ian appeared and saluted the oempany. 'And
now, as I am rather pressed for time, I will,
with your ladyship's permission, at onoe pro-
ceed to business. '
'Can't you spare us the legal details »nd
tell us the plain truth— for once m your life,'
interposed Vivian. ' I am sure nei^er Lady
William nor Miss Nettleship will understand
your technical terms.'
' It is just as the ladies please, Mr. Chase-
more.'
' All I care for, Mr. Farthingale,' said Lady
William, ' is to be assured that my dear child
is entirely provided for.'
She cared for much more than this. What
she wanted to know was how many thousand
pounds out of the fifty were to be settled ex-
clusively unon Regina for her sole use and
benefit, ana Regina wanted to hear it too^
although she looked so supremely indifferent
to tiie whole proceedings.
' I do not think your ladyship need have
any fears on that account,' replied the
lawyer ; ' but, as Mr. Chasemore has sug>
gested, to read out this deed to you would
only bo to trouble you to listen to a great
deal that would prove both uninterest-
ing and puzzling. I had better, therefore,
teU you tne contents as briefly as possible.
The late Sir Peregrine Chasemore left the
sum of fifty thousand pounds to his grandson,
Vivian Chasemore, under these conditions ;
the interest of the invested money to be ex-
clusively for the benefit of Mr. Chasemore
during his lifetime, and at his death to revert
in equal portions to his sons and daugh-
ters.'
' But suppotiing they don't have any f cried
Lady William, eagerly.
At this signal Regina retrx^ted to the
window of the back drawing-room, where she
remained in silent contemplation of three
empty flower-pots, the (water-cistern, and a
couple of oats fighting over an old bone ;
whilst Vivian walked away into the balcony,
and amused himself wiuh leaning over the
railings and watching the stream ot oarriagea
wending their way to the Park. Lady
William and the lawyer was consequently
left together, and Mr. Farchingale could not
help smiling to see the painful anxiety de-
picted on the lady's face.
' In that case, Lady William,' he said, in
answer to her question, ' the interest of ten
thousand pounds is to be devoted to a dower
for the lifetime of the widow, and then re-
48
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
varta with the remtinder of the mooey to Sir
Arthar Chasemore, or his heir*.'
' CIrauioua heavona I Do you mean to tell
me thac Mr. ChMemore ia tied hand aad foot
in auuh a manner that be ii unable to make
any aettlement upon hia widow T*
* Not if he diea without an heir I But that
iarather an unlikely oontinKcnu^' to ouuur,my
lady. And should ho die, leaving heira, the
widow eujoyo the whole income for her life-
time, after which it reverta to them. It ia a
perfectly fair arran(,(eiuent, and the one most
commonly agreed upon intiuch oaaes.'
Lady VViiliam bit her lip and aaid ntohing.
Shn did nat like to hetray the disappointment
ahe felt before the little lawyer whom ahe
hated.
'Have you two people done taikinitT'
cried Vivian, gaily, na ne peeped itito the
room. ' Has Mr. Farthmgale explained
everything to your entire satisfaction, Lady
William V
' Oh, perfectly, Mr. Chasemore. Nothing
could be plainer nor more satisfactory,' re-
plied Ihis future mother-in-law. But the
minute she found herself alone with Regina,
she told a very different tale.
' YouVe let yourself in fora nice bargain 1 '
she said spitefully. ' That money is tied up
in every possible way. If the man dies,
there is positively nothing for you — unless
you have a family.'
' Well, I shall have a family, I suppose —
everybody does f ' rejoined her daughter.
' And I shall be much obliged if you will
drop the subject, mamma.'
' iDh, of course ; that is all the thanks I
get for looking after your affairs, miss 1 I'm
sure I shall be heartily glad when I've
washed my hands of you altogether.'
* You cannot possibly be more ^lad than I
shall be,' were the last words Regina said, as
they parted for the night.
BND OF VOL. I.
VOLXJMR II.
CHAPTER L
* I WISHES I WAS DEAD, 1 1>0. '
Miss Nettleship was not quite so indifferent
to her matrimonial prospects as she would
have led us to believe. She took a keen
pleasure in (metaphorically speaking) leading
Vivian Chasemore about with a blue ribbon
ruuud his neck ; but she occasionally felt a
tinge of fear aa ahe thought of the poaaibltl
uoatiiigenoy of being left a window vithoutj
joiutuie worth apeakiug of. Vivian, in thtj
ardour of hia paaaion, had propoaed that, ij
order to avert ao terrible a calamity, tii(j|
ahould not live up to their income, at tlil
events, until they had laid by a oertaiil
number of thousand ptmnda to form a settle!
inent for herself. But llegiua did not reiiul
this idea at all. She had not sold herself igl
order to retreuoh and live quietly. i^M
wiahed to cut a dash amougat her frieudi!
and aoquuintauoeB,and till the breasta of bothj
men and women with euvy. She tolit:
Vivian that she would not hear of hia layinil
bv anything on her account | that if he Bpol^tl
of or hiiited at the probabilitiea of his dt;atiil
he made her miserable, and the pretty apeecU
sounded so much like the outpourings
afftiotioj that the lover felt perfectly aatiatiedl
So the preparationa for the wedding went ol
gbily : a handaome house was taken for thj
reception of the bride and bridegroom ; aoq
in the miust of choosing expensive furuitun
and equipages and jewellery, if Regina evei
experienced a misgiving aa to her future,
put it from her as a disagreeable pusaibilit,^
that might never happen, and had better uoi
be thought about. She had a great deal i
endure at this time from the jealousy of hei
mother. It may seem an extraordinary thii^
thata woman could ever be jealous of tbeguo
fortune of her child ; but selfish people ari
selfish all the world over, and Lady William'|
equanimity of temper was not always pro
against seeing the beautiful presents tliv
Vivian showered upon her daughter, otd
hearing of the luxuries by which she was i
be surrounded in her new house : whilst tbd
poor old woman, too, hardly knew where shi
should find the money to pay for tho
articles for Regina which sho could not pto^j
cure on credit.
' Another dress 1' she exclaimed with up
lifted hands I ' why, that makes the tentbl
What you are to do with them all 1 caul
imagine ; or what you will find to spend yoa
allowance upon after you are married. Ou^
would think you were going to be a duche
Regina, at the very least.'
'Really, mamma, the girl answered, 'yoi
seem to consider that anything would
good enough for me ! I wish you woull
remember I am about to relieve you ii||
the burden of supporting me for ever. Tei
dresses ! Why, 1 ought to have twenty )
the very least ; and if this is the effect
being a duke'u granddaughter, all I can ad
is, that I am thankful, for the sake of nf
posterity, that I am not going to beoome j
duchess 1'
' Oh, of course 1 ran down your {atherjj
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
49
ight uf the puMibJ
i a window vithuutil
; of. Vivittu, iu thtj
wl proposed that, ml
)|« a ualauiity, tbcjl
iheir inoome, at till
i Uid by a oerttiil
indii to form a atittlel
ilegiua did nut reliiiil
lad Qot sold huritiU k\
live quietly. S'hi.
kinoQgst her f rieudi ,^
till the breast! of botb J
Lh euvy. She tok.i
not hear of his iayini J
iiuut } that if he spuiitF
babilities of his dvatii|
,aud the pretty speecJ
the oatpourinKB oL
felt perfectly satistiedl
■ the wedding went ol
ise was taken for thJ
tud bridegroom; auij
ig expensive furuitun
irellery, if Regina evei
1^ as to her future, Bhi
isagreeable pusaibiliti
len, and hati better ar
he had a great deal t
>m the jealousy of ha
an extraordinary thin-
sr be jealous of the goo
but seltish people art
er, and Lady William'd
was not always pro*
eautiful presents thi('|
on her daughter, c'^
8 by whioh she waa i
sew house : whilst thi
lardly knew where ih
ley to pay for *hoi
ich she could not proj
6 exclaimed with up
hat makes the tenthj
with them all I cau'f
will find to spend yooi
pu are married. Oul
going to be a duchc
ast.'
le girl answered, * ya
anything would '
I wish you wouM
ut to relieve you
ling me for ever. Ta
ht to have twenty i
this is the effect
laughter, all I can
il, for the sake of mj
lot going to become (
t
m down your fathetl
as nsual, Regina I Ha may not haT«
J • fortune behind him——,
rK'i, that he oortainly did not,' int«rpos««l
[daughter, deoitlu<Uy.
I To be inherited by some scapegrace of a
liing actor,' continued Lady William,
withering soorn ; ' but he had blue bl«>otl
II veins such as will never run through
of y«)ur ohddren— if you have any I '
I I suppose Dot, mamma, unless they
trit a drop or two from me t Still I
ik, on the whole, I prefer red blood and
to blue bluud and bread and cheese I
|[tMte may be degenerated — I dare say it
It I have b«eu accustomed so long to
itter luxury, that I am a little tired of
■d shall enjoy a change I '
7hilat you leave your poor mother alone
.1 her days in the saine.cheerless poverty,'
Lady William, weeping,
(ilia did not reply directly to this in>
itiuu, nor deny the truth of it. Had her
|«r been an ordinary individual,' she
lUl probably have comforted her by the
Vance that she would live more in her
tnan in her own. But the girl knew
such a proceeding would entail, and
illy avoided it. Visions of Mrs. Run-
ic and the Maodougai, with cards late
iht and sips of brandy and water, rose
• strengthen tho resolution thatherfuture
sliould be kept froe, as far as lay in ner
ir, from all that had disgusted her in the
Bnt. So she deftly turned the subject.
>n't let us think of anything disagree-
f mamma 1 You have had your day, you
ft and surely it is time for mine to begin,
jou not going to put on your bonnet ?
Phaaemore is to call for us at twelve in
^w carriage, that I may see if I like it ;
believe we are to go to Howell and
i''8 to choose some rings. Pray don't
|im see that you have been cryii:g ! He
inspect we have been having words, and
"links there is nothing so vulgar aa a
|:^, well, my dear ! I suppose I must go,
you inu^iit have a chaperon ; but it
i folly in me to accustom myself to that
It whioh I must manage to exist for
lainder of my life.'
lould think there was all the more
to enjoy it whilst vou can, mamma,'
her daughter; 'but if yon like it
I will tell Mr. Chasemore to send for
ifeeling — ungenerous ungrateful ! '
j-iike pistol-shots from Lady William's
she disappeared into her bedroom.
[Regina, however, who had never bad
than a few shillings at a time to spend
own pleasure, the rcckloss profusion
with whioh Vivian threw away his money
waa a aonroe of exquisite content. Not that
she waa vulgarly and openly grateful. vSlie
accepted all hia gifu as if they were her
due, and nothing better than she had b«!<*n
accnstomed to ; but she revell«<l in their
E>ssession in private, and her inward satis-
ction maiie her temper unusually sunny
and beaming. Vivian thnuir' pvrtoot
angel in thuve brief days u, vi.v j, and
indeed she waa more like one than sne had
ever been before.
8he even appeared to grow benevolent and
charitable ; a phase of softness of whioh no
one had ever suspected her. When Vivian
Chaaemore saw her stop for a moment to
drop a coin into the hand of some faded*
looking woman sitting on a doorstep with an
infant at her breast, or throw pennies to the
little urchins that gathered round them in
the Park, he thought what a good mother
she would make, and thanked Heaven pre*
maturely.
As they drove away that morning, in the
splendid chariot drawn by a couple of high-
stepping bays that ha had brought round to
receive the meed of her approval, a girl with
a dirty face thrust a bunch of lavender in at
the carriage-door.
' Oo away I' said Vivian, sharply, and ha
was about to draw up the glass.
* Oh, poor child I don't speak so crossly to
her,' exclaimed Regina, as she threw a shil*
ling to the lavender pirl. It was one of her
last, but she knew it would bbar fruit a
hundred-fold.
Vivian drew up the window gently, and
clasped her hand.
' You would make all the world as happy
as yourself, Regina, if you could,' he said
fondly.
' Qi course. But that poor creature looked
BO ill. I am sure a meal will do her good.'
'You are so kind-hearted,' continued
Vivian, ' that I have no hesitation in asking
your sympathy for a little girl I know — a
good little soul though iu the lower classt^s,
the granddaughter, in fact, of my old land*
lady. Mrs. Bell.'
' Yes. Is she ill T'
' I hope not. She was blooming enough
when I saw her \>%at. Poor little Bonnie !
But they were ver ;- good to me, both grand-
mother and granddaughter, at a time when I
valued the kindness of even such humble
friends, and I am afraid I have been very
ungrateful. Fancy, I have never been near
the house since I left it ! I saw you, yon
witch, and you entrapped me at once, and I
have bad no eyes nor ears for any one since.
I wonder what they think of my defection.'
'They could hardly expect you to find
/
80
THI ROOT or ALL EVIL.
i|||iinii
S<1
time to Tiaik thain an' it all the •ogageoMoti
of • London mmoo.'
' Oh. thejr know nothingof tho molkifa-
lions dntiM of m mmod I Tho^ an m inoo*
oont M if they bad lived »U their Uvea in the
eoantry in•(e'^dof Drory Lane/
' 1 hope yoa don't want oio to go to Drnry
Lane, Vivian I Mamma i» ao afraid of thoee
■ort of plaoea.'
' Mv darling I aa if I wonld let tou. No t
what I thooKht waa that I aoonld like to gire
any old frieoda a preeent when I marry, and
that it wonld come more graoef ally from yon
than from me. A black ailk dreaa for the
old lady], and anything von think a yonng
woman in that etation uf life would like beet,
lor Bonnie. Yon oould ohooae them lo
maoh better than I oonld, and 1 would aend
it to thorn in ynur name.'
' OerUinly, if you wiati it. B«t would not
that oomo better alter the ftth of September
than before ?'
< i think yon are right, as you always are.
But in that oaae yoa muet bear it in mind
yourself, for I shall have time to think ol
nothing but you.'
By whiofa means it Ml out that neither
Bonnie nor Mra. Bell ever saw the preeents
which it waa settled Mrs. Vivian CluMemore
was to select for thero.
When they reached Howell and James's
it was with diffioultv Lady William could be
perauaded to leave the carriage. Although
she had been KrumUing to herself all the
while, because the easy sprioga ahe sat on
and the rich brocaded silk cushions ahe leant
againat were not to be hers, but- her
dianghter's, ahe liked them so well that she
would have muoh preferred aitting there,
making believe,' as the children say, that
she waa enjoying her own property, to look*
ing at caaes ol diamond and ruby and
•merald rings. However, Begina waa in-
asorable in her demands that her cha-
peron should aocompany her inside the
jeweller's establishment, and Lady William
was compiled to obey. The choice took a
long time. Each drawer of glittering rings
looked more tempting than the last, and the
aettinos were ao varied and so beautiful At
laat Vivian, glaneing at his watch, remem«
bered a pressing engagement at his club,
which would only,however, detain him a few
moments. So, asking permission ol the
ladies to leave them to make the final
deoiaion and to call for him on tiieir way
home, he quitted the shop and drove to Pall
Mall, sending back the carriage immediately
lor them. Even then they were not quite
ready, lor Regina kept tryins on, first a Half •
hoop and then a duater ol oiamouds on her
little finger, quite unable to order which J
ahould be sent to her address, K% last, sc
ever, the deoiaion was arrived at, and tb
roee to follow Vivian.
Aa they stood at the door, waiting for
carriage to draw up, Rygina noticed a ^
leaning in a droopma attitude against i
iron palings. She did not look ill, nor ti
poor. Her stoff dress was good and n*^
and her little straw hat wsa neatly trimm
But h«r brge blue eyea were oast upwa
withso£Mi and despairing an exprea
that it arreeted Miss NettJeship's attent
even thoitgh there waa, no one by Wa
wb^ it was her interest to appear haa
anTeharitabla.
* Are you ill f she inquired of the girl
The blue eyes glanced for a mo
wonderingly at her faahionable drees
golden>crowned head (for Regina, altl
so poor, was always attired in the la
mode), and then drooped wearily again.
*No,ma'amI' withftw 4 little ahake
the head.
* What is the matter with > u then ?,
' Nothing I nothing 1 I thouf^^t i •»!
friend, bnt he is gone I Indeed it is
iog.'
* Is she madf whispered Miss Nett„
in an aweatruek tone to the shopman,
had bowed them to the door.
*0b, no, madam 1 There are plenty!
her about. We are pestered with
every moment. Come now, 'he eontinn
a loud tone to the girl, *move away
here, will you, or 1 snail send for the poll
' Don't be harsh to her V said Begins, \
feminine pity. Did some prevision ofj
dark fnture flash through her mind at f
moment, and make her experience a woo
compassion lor the poor soul who sL
suffer through her guiitt Who can tell! j
she almost felt aa if aha would like to i
the stranger'a hand. ' Here is somethi
help you,'^8he added* aa she put the mos
the girl's listless palm.
Bonnie — for it was indeed Bonnie!
stood there to rest and think— gazed l
silver for an instant inquiringly, and I
replaced it in Regina'a hand.
' No, thank yoa, ma'am V she said qn
' I've got plenty of money at home.'
* Come away t come away 1' wL
Lady William, as she clutched hw dai.
arm. * How can yon stand there talk
that creature? Can't yon see she's d
Keally, Regina,' she continued, aa tm
entered the carriage and drove to Pall '
' yon have no sense of your own
The idea ol stopping to talk to people I
open street I What can the lootman
you t'
"'It it very little oonseqnonoe to bm
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
SI
rrived ftlpMidth
oor, waitioBlori
riiina noiioed » .
lol look m, nor w
iTMgood »on H
WM DMtly triinn^
I wort oMtupwi
irioa »n oxpr**
letUwliip't •**«*,
B,no one by wM
Mi to »pp»f •»•'
iqoiredotthogirl
AO«d lor » nwi"
fMhionable dr««i»
ifor Repiu«, »lw
ikttirod lo *»«. '*
ped we»nly »R»>o.
i^A UttU •»»*'»•
w with > «» thon ?,
I I thoOK^-t 1»»'
e I Indeed ii »• «>«<
roered Miw Neti
B to the shopinw*, ^
ibedoor.
There we plenty
Ire peetored with «
nenow,'heeontia«
airl, *niove »w*y
fi»ll send for the poll
0 her I'tikid Begin V
1 Bome previBWD oil
iroagh her nwnd at
ler experience »woiP<
poor eoul who «,
kik! Who can tell?
■be would Uhe to t
• Here ie •omethi
•ftiheputthemoH
^' indeed Bonme]
Mid think-gMfld rt
at inquiringly* »o*
pm'b hand. .
rmft'MilehosMi'q^
I money tX hoine.
loome aw»y l* whu
Ibadutchedherdaiig]
lyou »t»nd there t»l»"
Un't you see •ho'» J ,
■■ I continued, MtM
, And drove to P»Uj
,e of your own
uia to t»lk to peop
lit etfk the footman 1
oonieqnenoe to v»\
ike, mamma. He will be my eervaat
ir week, aud will hav« to think aa I
il the woman waa intoxioatad I'
wae no euob thing i'
le idea ol ooatradiuting your mother
■uoh a eubjeut 1 Wbal can yo^ know
r
roa have given me plenty of axperienoe,
nth Mre. Uuonymeiie and other
friflodi. 1( 1 do not know a tipsj
from a eober one by tkie time, it u
the want ol being able to compare
[ whioh oroel etatement Lady William
il into indignant reproauhei, which
' until Vivian ran emiliug down the
hia olub to juiQ them again,
iwhile Mra. B«i> wae jugging from
Itle ahop to another, aekiug all her
>nra if they had happened to aet eyea
inie.
bonnie 7 ' exclaimed Mra. Bull, the
the butoher at the corner. '.Lor ',
ly aoul, Mra. Bell, ma'am, you dun't
\%n tell roe a« you lata lh»t gal go
ig anywherea without your know*
^"indeed, Mra. Bull I I know my duty
thild butter than that oomea to, but
h«a been very queer aud uuaettled
[ and 1 oan't make 'er out. iShe'a ao
idable like. If I aeod 'er of au
> otf ahe ia, like a ahoc, and don't oome
houra. Aud 'tain't to be t;xpeoied,
11, aa I can run of erranta myaelf, at
of life, nor keep a aervaut to run
tme.'
|pbe the gal'a aiokenin' for jummat.
laaon'' children lie dead of the
, aiid tney tell me aa aoarlet>fever ia
out in the next atreet.'
fno, it ain't that I Bonnie'a bin
juliar in the head ; sud aa for
rhy we Uvea in the midat of 'em
that we do I 'acquieaoed Mra. Bull ,
ty fevera they air too — allaya tak
le wrong {^ople. Didn't I loao my
ad boya the year afore laat with
loid, aud there'a that brute Bull
the. day 'a long I'
, », Mra. Bull ; though (if I muat
[truth) those boya of your'n were
the atreet, whatever they may
to you. However, that 'a sut
do with my gal, who'a not bin
I momin' aince eleven o'clock.'
[on earth don't yon marry 'er hoff,
"' ?' I expect there'a many a young
lid take her, for ihe'a a peraon*
able-lookia* gal anoff, when her 'airi
etraigbl '
'lliat'ajaalit, Mra. Bull Ronnia goee
agea me ui everytbink. Kit Maatera wou'<\
marry her to-morrow, bat ahe wou't 'ava »
word to eay to 'im>
* And Maatara muat be doio* finely, too.*
' Aye, that he ia 1 — and Juat come into a
fortune of Hfty ponnde into the barrfBin.'
' You doJt lay to, Mra. Bell I 'Ow'a
ihatr'
* I can't say- aomebodv leave it Mm, I
anppoee i 'e didn't tell me, but 'e'a got it aure
eonif. And it might be all Boutie'a for the
aakin' I'
' Lor', the gal muat be a fool I A young
feller like that didu't ought to 'ave to ha>-k
twioe. But ain't that Bonnie'a hat oomiu'
down the attest now T'
*Tobe aurel there'a my lady'a a-oomin' 'om«
at two o'clock, and bin gone aince eleven —
and not a tbing dune in the 'ouai? ! It'e enutf
to break one'e eart I But I'll be even witli
her, never fear. Good-day to you, Mra
Bull'
' Oood'day, Mra. Bell, ma'am { and 'opiii'
you'll manage to bring that gal to 'ar
aenaea.'
Having fluiahed her intereating converaa-
tiun, Mra. Bell walked alowly to her own
houae, whiuh ahe reached juat aa Bonnie had
bung up 'ur hat and ahawl upon a peg, and .
aeated buraelf behind the counter.
' Oh 1 ao you're 'ome again, miaa, are ve»*.
commenced her gran«l*nother angrily. * An
where may you 'ave bin for the laat tbrea
houraT — auawer me that.'
' Don't bother me, grandmother,' replied,
the eirl, wearily.
* Don't bother ye ? you independent gad-
about I Do yon think you can leave a.re«*
apeotable houae at all timea, aud coma and,
ge aa yon chooae 7 Yon can't then, and I'il
have uo more of ik Mow, where havaivoiu
bin V
' I've bin after no harm.'
' I don't know that i reapectablagaladon'ti-
trape about the atreeta all by theiraelvea.
Who 'ave you bin a-aeeiu' of, or a>talkin' to ?^
* No one— at leaat a lady apoke to u.e, . but ■
I anppoee that won't kill me.'
* A lady ! What did ahe aay f
* She aaked me if I waa ilL'
*Iu conrae 1 No real lady would; thbk.
but what a gal waa ill aa lounged about all,
day doins nothink. Now, Bonnie, you liaten
to me. I won't have no more of it Yon.
don't leave the houae asen after thia day
aoleaa I goea along of ye.°
' Oh, 1 muat get out and have a bit of
freah air t' exclaimed the girl, impatiently..
I can't bide in thia hot atreet all day. It.
02
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
makes me sick, with the imelli and the dirt
and the nniae. If ye don't let me ran out
for a breath 'vhea I feels the want of it, I'll
run straight off, and never come baok toyou.
So now yoti know my mind, grandmother.'
Old Mrs. ijell stood aghast. She had
always known Bonnie to be what she called
' ' pecnliar,' but she had never yet heard her
give vent to suob an expression of rebellion
as this. She had been an indolent, dream-
ing, forgetful nort of girl all her life ; but
this was t'ie first time she had actually . «•
iu3ed tr oHey her grandmother, or hintsd
that thore was a possibility of their lots
bein^ divided.
' Well, of all the ungrateful, wicked, schem-
ing 'at lies I ever see,' cried Mrs. Btill,
* you're uhe very wust ! Don't yon know as
I broughu you up from a hiofant, to be what
you are , and not content with wearin' out my
lifo with your lazy, do nothin' ways, you
mtt2>t go and per pose to leave me altof^etber.
Oh, I m glad| my poor Joe ntiver lived to
B ee this day ! He was a good lad, he was,
who loved 'is poor mother, and would h. ve
slapped your face afore 'e'd 'ave let you speak
to n i3 in this manner. But you never was a
bit hi a '.iim in body or soul— more's the pity
— and 1 only hope he ain't bin a*heariu' in
heaven ihe words as vou've just said to me.'
* Why oan't you le&ro nia alone then T ' ex-
claimed Bonnio in he'r turn. ' All I ask fur
is peace and quiet, and not to have that
horrrid feller Kit Masters thrust down my
throat every minnit. It's ennff to make a
gal run away to be asked to marry a low
creature likb that 1 '
' A low creature, indeed ! That's your
manners, is it? VVhy, he's just come into a
forti'i of fifcy pounds in gold I '
* What s that to me ^ I don't want him
nor his fifty pjunds. I dare say he stole 'em.
All I want is to have a walk now and again ;
«nd one would think that walkin'wasacrime,
by the way you goes ju at ma about it.'
' No, Bonnie ! walkin' ain't a crime,' replied
Mrs. Bell, solemnly ', * but leavin' the house
»nd|the shop to be minded Sy yoar poor grand-
mother at her time of life ; vtrhen you know
whac the stairs is to her, ii a crime and a
grievance ; and what's more. I won't stand
it.'
' I'm sure I've always dusted and cleaned
the rooms as they should be,' rejoined
Bonnie. ' You've often said as I spent too
much time on 'em.'
* Yes, on the hupper rooms ; but they're
not ^he kitchen-floor nor yet the shop.
When I.Ir. Waverley was here, you was
allays at 'ome, doiu' this, that, or t'other 1
but now that we've got no lodger, you seems
to m«^ as restless as a cat in a strange place
ant's
and as if you could never settle to a thiD^j
And now, whatever are yon a-oryin' for ? ' |
For Bonnie had laid her bead down up.,
the counter and burst into • violent flood of|
tears, which prevented her for some minute
from answering her grandmother's question
' ^Veil, I do feel unsettled and ill mto tbl
barg'iu, and that's the truth. I suppose itl
this hot weather and never bavin'
uhanee.'
* You might 'ave change and to spare,
you wouldn t be so hobstinate, Theres's '.
bin a-speakiu' to me agen about you — an
worry in' to have the banns put up. I'g
sure I wonder 'e cares tuppence for sichll
contrary oreetur ; but there's no accouati
for men's likin's. You'd better think ovtf
the matter agen, Bonnie, and take 'im. Y<j
won't 'ave sich another chance in a bli
moon, and that's my opinion.'
' Well, then, I won't 'ave 'im, and thil
mine t ' cried Bonnie, passionately. Ml
see 4m dead fust, and myself too, for thf
ma»ter. Not that I cares much when I diei
she continued -elapsing into quiet weepis
' for I'm sure I wish I was under the grou^
now, along of father and mother ; for
life's a misery to me, and the sooner it's (
the better.'
' And what should make it a misery,
like to know?' said Mrs. Bell, shan
* You've got plenty of food and driuk
good clothes, and a tight roof over ,
'"■"' • and you might 'ave a husband into!
^ad
'uc: jump at, but
like dirt under
more, I
bargain, as moat gals
treats the poor feller
feet. What would you 'ave
der ? tell me that, now ! '
' Oh, I don't kaow ; I don't know 1'
claimed poor Bonnie, rocking herself
wards and forwards ; ' but I wishes I
dead, I do — I wishes I wr<) dead I'
CHAPTER IL
' YOU MAY TELL 'iM THAT I'LL DO IT,']
Bonnie did not giveupherwanderiogi
all her grandmother's railings: and Mrt.|
was too much afraid of h€v granddaugh/
press the matter and force her rerail
home. She was so unlike other girlu
old woman hardly knew what the
quencea of opposition might be. There
a quiet persistence about her, which |
mcu likely to gain her own way J
any amount of loud talking and opp
So she continued to slip away whener^
presence was not immediately neceasuj
walk listlessly about the streets, in thej
hope of finding she hardly knawi
She did not entirely neglect her dntj
never settle to a thing,!
are yoa ft-oryin' for ! '
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
B^
JHAPTER n.
TELL 'IM THAT I'LL DO IT. j
poor child t The ' happe.* rooms,' as
Bell desiKoated her first floor, were as
illy kept &« they nsed to be in the
when they were ocoapied. The
ires Alfred Waverley had pasted on the
f were religiously dasted, and the little
looked as ulean und inviting as though
are still expeoted to ret-urn to it. It
I poor Bonnie'i) temple, and she worship-
[ there regularly, sending up her silent
|r«rs in deep sighs to the memory of the
I who had once dwelt in the shrine. But
more dreamy and absent than before:
useless, in fact, than she had ever been
domeetio duties of the house and shop:
["iiany an old cuHtomer shook her head
kving it, and said she was very much
' that Mrs. Bell's girl was going ' clean
\o{ her head.'
»nnie was growing prettier than ever, for
inir had reduced her ^gnre and refined
I'featnres, whilst the unalterable beauties
ker face, her limpid blue eyes and soft
idant hair, naturally remained the same,
jurse all this pining and misery was in
laence of Al^ed Waverley's departure,
fell did not suspect the cause, but poor
lie knew it well enough for herself,
she could not say she had any ^ood
in to fret. She had never entertained
' hopes in that quarter : in fact, she had
recognised the feeling she entertained
leir lodger until he had so suddenly left
Three manths had passed since that
-three long despaiiing months — and
never come back even to see how
• were getting on without him. Once, a
' of illustrated books had arrived, ad-
Bd in Bonnie ; but they hbd been 'iiouB
jht from the publisher and ^'aere was
I* a slip of paper inside one of chem, with
[inscription 'From Alfred Waverley,'
books wpre ranged upon her chest of
rers, dusted a doaen iimes a day, and
dusted without beinc kissed ; but the
»r had noc followed his ;ift. And it was
and see him that Boi inie slipped away
lever she had an opportunity, and
up and down th» dusty Loudon
peering wistfully into the face of
passer-by, in hopem of meeting the
1.8 she so much loved. Once, she iiAd
fnim dashing down the Strand in a
le which he drove himself ; but he had
3o much occupied with his horses to
> the faint cry of pleasure with which she
* him, or to see the Hsure of the girl —
long so many — that shrjink back into
>wd as he drove out of sight. Another
she had passed him almost shoulder to
Ider, as she leant against the railings of
?ark gates, gazing idly at the stream of
carriages and people who were driving or
walking up and down Rotten Row.
She bad nearly failed to recognise on that
occasion, in the fashionably'dressed young
man, with a gardenia in his button hole and
the smallest of canes in his hand, their * ci>
devant' lodger, Alfred Waverley, for Bonnie
knew Vivian Chasemore by no other lame.
She had started as his handsome, delioately-
cut prjtile came into view, and would have
spoken, perhaps, had he not been in close
attendance on two ladiea whose faces Bonnie
could not see. But what cared she for any
one, poor child 1 except the one hero of her
imagination, whom she would have walked
a dozen miles any day to see but for a
moment ? She thought these passing visions
of a glory and splendour into which she
c(«nld never hope to enter did her good, but
it was quite the reverse.
As soon as the excitement of seeing him
had died away, a deeper depression than
usual would succeed it ; and Mrs. Bell had
reason to remark, when she was wak«n«d
from her own slumbers to hear her grand-
child Bobbing in her sleep, that she didn't
believe these long rambles did Bonnie any
good. A taird time the girl had met with
Vivitiu Chasemore, and that was as he was
driving from Huwell and James' to his club,
on the occasion which has been narrated.
Then, she had caught sight of him lulling
luxuriously back in a carriage still more
btantiful than the one he had occupied be*
for, and evidently thinking of nothing bat
twirling his moustaches.
IP^it VM this vision, and the great golf it
seemed to mark between their past and future
intercourse, that had ::ant poor Bonnie reeling
with emotion and faintness against the steps
of Messrs. Howell and James' establishment,
and called forth the omel suspicion from
Lady William Nettleship that she \..j in-
toxicated. She hardly looked at the face of
the lady who accosted her. She only remem*
bered that some one had spoken and offered
her money, and she had refused it. All her
mind was tilled with the sight she had seen t
of her prince, raised, it is true, to the position
he ought always to have occupied, but having
left her, his humble little subject, so im>
measurably far behind him.
Could that be the same gentleman, she.
argued with herself, as she took her way
slowly homewards, on whom she had watted,
for whom she had cooked, and who had
thanked her so earnestly for the loan of her
stuff-gown to keep the draught from the door
when he was ill ? Had she met hiin, well-
dressed, driving about in a hansom, with a .
rose in hit button-hole, she would have con*
eidered it only the natural oooaequenoe uf '
54
THE ROOT O*' AX^ii EVIL.
' oooiing into a fortune ; ' hrit lo great a trans
formation scene as she hftd witnessed that
day puzzled the weak little brain altogether.
It was almost as wonderfal as if he had gone
to heaven itself, whence she had seen him
return with a pair of glistening nt ines ; and
she would hardly have felt the gulf which
bad suddenly yawned between them to be
greater than it was now. Still he was yet on
earth, and Bounie's most ambitious dream
had resolved itself into the hope of once more
becoming his servant. To be near him, she
thought to live under the same roof, to
black bis boots and make his bed, and keep
his room bright and 'fresh and clean — this
was the summit of her ambition.
She 'nr«5 quite ignorant of the style and
manner in which youne men af fortni.3 live
—had no knowle*tge ofcuikmbers, no idea of
the duties of a valet^ and thought that every
unmarried gentlemen kept some nice tidy
girl to attend to his creature<comforts, and
supply the place of a housekeeper and seam-
stress. She had done all that for him for the
last four years — why should she not continue
to do it now ? The idea that he might take
• wife to superintend his household never
entered into Bonnie's calculations : chiefly
because when dhe had suggested the idea he
had denied it, and she was simple enough to
believe him. All her anxiety now was to be
able to see Alfred Waverley aloue, and find
out where he lived, so that she might make
the above proposal to him ; and if he con-
sented to it, she felt as if she should have
gained everything she wished for in this
Wo -Id. Poor, silly Bonnie I
It was on tho 8th of September that, as
'She was wandering about the streets where
she had last seen Alfred Waverley, her list-
.1«S8 steps took her towards Hanover Square.
and her attentior wttt attracted by a crowd
gathered around * ^a portals of that temple,
- the walls of which have perhaps re-echoed
:more lies than any other buildins in the
■ wo Id — the dead-alive bat fashionable church
of St. George. Patron of our country,
^what sin did you commit in slaying the
• enemy ot mankind that youi- name should be
uiesecrated for ever by connection with the
■^reat slave-market of England ? Why should
the valiant St. George, who trampled on
- the hydra-headed monster at the riak of his
il fe, and prevailed in the name of God, be
asked to preside at that ceremony jestingly
termea religious, which forces a man to take
an oath to honour for evermore that which
he may discover before many months are
• over his head to be utterly unworthy of any
1 feeling but contempt?
It was within these walls that the old
.Marqais of Driveltcn paid his bill for the
lovelv Berengaria Bootless, the defrayal i
which was attested with many congratnlatio
by ths clerical ' middle- man ' who bleta
the bartei.by which the unfortunate marai
found he had been so fearfully swindled
few years later. It was here that Ls
Arabella Hauiton exchanged her blue Uo
and aristocratic connections for young Su
taker's twenty thousand a year, which
suited in a judicial separation and haodi
alimony before many luonths were over l
heads. It is here, in fact, that parsons „
and smile and pocket their fees, without n
taking the trouble to inquire if their oustoL
ers regard the observance in any light except]
mercenary one ; and it was here that Reg
Nettle8hip,amidst the envy of all her fei
friends, was »bont to make herself o/er
Vivian Chasemore for the consideration
fifty thousand pounds. A wedding
always an attraction for a woman^ par
ularly if it be a handsome one. The carrit
with their grev horses and favours
bouquets ; the dresses of the ladies ; al
all, the interest that clings about a bride i
bridegroom, all combine to make our Eng
slave-sale<i very pretty sho^; s.
So Bunnie pushed herself as near as
could to the steps of St. George's ohi
to see all that was going on. There wul
long string of carriages drawn up in lii
waiting for the signal of a mac attheehnn
doc>r to give them warning that tht cerema
was over; but the handsomest of all,|
barouche drawn by white horses, the co
man and footman "f which wore imme
bouquets of flowers in their button. holi
was ready in waiting at the bottom of
steps.
'That's for the bride and bride^r
remarked a milliner's girl standiuu
Bonnie's side. 'Lor'l ain't some peopltj
luck t Just look at them 'orses t The;
fit for the qunen. '
' Is she very rich ?' wLspered Bonnie,tol
neighbour.
' I don't think so. We made part of i
troussore, and we didn't think great sha
of the dressei. But 'e is— rich as Grease
I'ni told, anfl 'ansome as a rosu I I seel
go in. And she's wearin' a lovely satii
twelve and sixpence a yard — but she's
pale to suit my fancy. I liLes more colo
q'lotedthe milliner's girl, who had not 1
left the country, and had two cheeks
peonies.
' 'Ere they are I' exclaimed the crowd, |
the nun at the church-door waved his i
frantically, and the coachmen flicked u
horses| sides to wake them up, and the nol
of a triumphal march pealed f arth from
organ inside. But it was a false -'"
"?*NS
THE ROOT OF ALL BVIL.
fiS
^tlem, the defrayal)
irith many coagratalatio
iddle-naan ' who ble
the unfortanate inan|gj
w fearlully Bwindled |
i was here that
xohanged her blue Uo
uectioos for youDft 8ti
kdaod a year, which
separation and haadson
y luontha were orer I
iD f aot, that parsons
>t their fees, without ev
0 inquire if their oust
'anoe in auy li^ht exoept|
i it was here that Reg
he envy of all her fei
>o make herself o/er
for the oousideration
iiQils. A wedding
in for a woman, par
Isome one. The carr
liorses and favoara
ses of the ladies ; ab
t clings about a bride i
ibine to make our Enti
tty shoT;. s.
L herself as near aa
1 of St. George's ch«
going on. There wii|
riages drawn up in
al of a mas at the ehun
'arning that th6 ceren
he handsomest of all,|
r white horses, the co
of which wore imma
rs in their button>holi
ing at the bottom of
bride and
ner's girl atahdIuK l|
or' 1 ain't some peoinej
,t them 'orses I Then
bride^r
atahdiug
I' wh.'spered fionnie,tok
We made part of i
lida't think great shtl
t 'e is — rich as Grease
me as a roso I I
wearin' a lovely satiij
le a yard — but she'* I
sy. I likes more colo
'a girl, who had not!
>cd had two oheeka '
exclaimed the crowd, |
'oh-door waved hia i
I coachmen flicked '
e them up, and the Dd
ch pealed f 3rth from I
i it was a false
Iding-party had only turned from th«
Jiuto the vestry to receipt the bill and
Jftlie * middle-man * hia fee.
md back there ]* exclaimed a fierce-
ag policeman, as he thrust the crowd of
J nursery-maids, ohildp' " . and milliners
»r away, and the man ^;; the door ex-
fast-increasing exeiteinent There
[| crimson roll of dmggetins laid from
''inrch-door to the bottom of tbo steps,
ieh Ronnie gazed with silent awe.
tffa for the ladies' dresses,* explained
Uliging neighbour. * There's the beanti*
; lot of satma and silks as I've seen for
, time here to-day, and it's strange, too,
Bring it's out of the season. But then
adegroom's got sich a lot of money, of
they'd like to 'ave everytJiing ooa*
lllible to his riches.'
/hat's his name ?' demanded Bonnie.
can't tell you. She's a Miss Nettleship.
Idaughterof a real duko — or at least
say 80 — though they may only have
it up after all. But bless yon 1 here
?are I'
bnie looked up quickly, and her eyea
bUy fell first upon the bride. Regina
' handsomer in her wedding attire uian
brides do. The intense whiteness of
Iress did not clash with her pale wax*
smplexion. She looked like a beautiful
lie as she moved down the cricison-
Ited steps, her golden hair crowned
myrtle and orange-blossom, and the
tof her satin robe sweeping imperially
behind her. Bonnie could not take
ires of the bride's face : she had quite
en the bridegrrjm as she gazed at
/a claasi I featcres.
I't he a 'cter of s man ?' whispered
liner's apprenticj. ' Don't let him go
I you've bad a cood look at him. See 1
' irning 'is 'ead now 1 Ain't he bean-
Twice as 'aadsome a« she, in my opin-
lie suddenly diverted her eyes in the
lution of Vivian Chasemore. He was
ag at the carriasfe-door, helping his
to settle hetself and her voluminous
in the vehicle, and Bonnie had a full
of him.
-he — ' she stammered . pointing him
her neighbour with a snaking finger,
I't the croom 1'
i course he isl who else? Don't you
li^ht pants and tie, and the white
his buiton-hole? Why, 1 know 'im
11 as can be 1 He often oome with
fNettleship when she worried, us about
Iresaes. '
[e's married to her I' gasped Bonnie
as her face turned to an ashen hue.
' Why, where 'ave you
you ever see anvbody but
the bride out of church ?
bin bred? Did
the groom 'ring
In oourse 'e's the
one. Now 'e's got into the same earriaga
and driven off with 'er. Do you *ant a bet-
ter proof than that? One would think yon
had never seen a wedding before 1 Oh, I eay 1
jest look at this shaking old guy 1 That's
her mother. We made that dress too. It's
brocade. It cost seventeen and sixpence ft
yard. Do you like the colour 1'
But Bonnie made no answer to this que*-
tion. Something had seemed to atop go-
ne near her heart as she caught sight of
Alfred Waverley's faee, and now h'sr head
was growing heavier and heavier and her
legs seemed to give way under her, and in
another moment she had sunk fainting to the
ground.
' Oh 1 I say, Mr. Policeman, here's some-
body ill r gasped the milliner's apprentioe,a»
Bonnie's sudden fall diverted her attention
from the rest of (he wedding sroup. ' Who'll
carry 'er out of the crush? WonH some of
ion gputlemen make yourselves pleasant ?
'he poor girl is in a drad swoon.*
Two or three of the ' gentlemen ' alluded
to, who consisted of butcher boys with trays
of meat, law clerks with blue bags, and
croasing-sweepers, came forward and lifted
poor Bonnie from under the feet of the
gaping crowd. The policeman, in hopes of
finding she was intoxicated, followed in their
wake until he saw her deposited on a door-
step opposite, where a large nnmber of the
sight-seers also congregated, by way of
keepings out the air. 'The riiow opposite
was nearly over — the best of the dresses and
bonnets had driven away ; and as there was
a chance of tho strancer being in a fit, or
dead, they considered it but prudent to
secure the front row of seats for the new per-
formance. Bonnie disappointed them, how-
ever. It is true that tibe last carriage had
disappeanul from St. Georae's, Hanover
Square, before she re-opened her sad, misty
blue oyes ; but then,although she looked very
confused, it was evident that before lone she
would get up aod walk home again, and the
majority of her audience turned away with a
snort of disgust, and went off in search of
further excitement.
• Where am I ?— What are you doing ? —
Who brought me here ? ' exclaimed Bonnie
with a puzzled air, as rfhe oame to her
senses.
•Why, yon've bin a bit ill,' replied her
milliner friend, who still kept by her side.
' We was lookin' at the wedding— -dont you
remember ? — and the crush was too much
for you.'
'Ah, the wedding!' repeated Bonnie
56
TF*? ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
faiatly, ati she closed her eyes and seemed as |
if she were about to faint again. {
' Come along 1 don't let's have no mor<^ of
that nonsense i ' interposed the policeman
rouf^hly, as he raised the girl into a standing
positiou by pulliug her up by one arm.
* You can walk well enough if you choose,
and if you don't dear out ot this, sharp, I
shall send for a stretcher and carry you.
You've blocked up the highway long
enough. '
* Ugh, you brute !' exclaimed the staunch
lictle milliner. * How dare you speak to my
friend like that 1 Anybody can see how ill
she is, and she don't btir from here till she's
able to walk, unleus yon choose to pay for a
cab for her. You take my arm, dear,' she
continued to Bonnie, * aud come 'ome with
me for a minnic, and gjt a drink of water. I
don't live above a stone's throw from here.'
Bonnie was half -standing, half leaning
agamit the door of the house, upon the
stjps o{ w'>ioh she had been placed. Her
head still :elt very giddy and confused, but
she understood the words addressed to her
aud did what she was required.
• Now, Mr. Policeman, you last put your
'and under her other arm, and elp er along
that way. There ! that's- better ; she can
walk a little now, and ,between us we shall
manage to get her to my 'onse.
The milliner's house turned out to la a
dirty Ltilgiug, where she and a dozen other
apprentices slept every night under the
charge of a snuffy old woman, who was
induced, however, by Bonnie's pretty face
and respectable appearance, to allow her to
rest for a few minutes, whilst her new ac-
quaintance fetched her a glaa^ of water. The
girl sat when they pushed her into a chair,
and drank when they held the water to her
lipa, but all she did was done mechanically :
and after their humble attentions were con-
clud<)d, she continued to stare into vacancy,
as if she noticed nothing before her.
' She ain't come to her right senses yet,'
whispered the apprantice to the old woman.
The policeman had taken his departure as
oon as he had seen her to the door.
* Has she ever had 'em ? ' inquired the
other, doubtfully.
' Oh yes ! She was right enough whilst
we was lookin' at the weddin*' But the 'eat
took 'er, and she dropped all of a sudden.'
' Ah, wull ! she looks >adly now, don't
she ?'
' I must go I ' ejaculated Bonnie, slowly,
as she rose from her seat.
' Where do you live — far off from here ?
Are you well enough to walk by yerself,
dear ? Best a bit longer if you feels inclined,'
■aid the kind- hearted little apprentice.
But Bonnie shook off her touch, and witJ
a quiet 'Thank yon,' moved towards thil
door. They unlatched it and let her gol
forth, and watched her staggering slowljl
down the street.
* She ain't fit to walk alone,' remarked th«|
milliner, ' but I 'aven't the time to go witlt|
'er — I'm hours late as it is. La t poorl
thing I how she reels. She looks as if shf(l|
topple over every minnit. '
' She^l be " rnn in " by some of theni
nasty policemen afore she's gone a quarter ofi
mile,' remarked the old woman, as Bonnitl
turned the corner and passed out of view.
But so dire a certainty did not befall herl
though bow she groped her way from Han-I
over Square to Drury Lane that day, thif
poor child never knew. It was aocomplishei
at last, however, thouffh it must have taketj
her hours, for the dock was striking four :
she dragged her weary form into her grandJ
mother^ parlour. !
' Bless me, Bonnie, how white you look[
and wherever have you bin all this tiroe?|
exclaimed Mrs. B^U, as the girl laid htij
head back in her chair and fainted awin
again.
The old woman was really fond of h«
granddaughter, however much she raile
against her, and Bonnie's unusual illnts
alaimed her. She used every known mea
to restore her to consciousness, and then]
attributing the accident %o the oppresaifi
heat of the autumn, and weakness conitj
quent upon it, she made Bonnie go upstairi
to bed, and waited on her the rest of tin
day as actively as if she had been tweutj
years old instead of seventy.
* Grandmother V said the girl feebly thi
evening;, as Mrs. Bell sat by Her bedside wit
her knitting in her hand, 'do you wantp
I to marry that feller Masters V
' Want yon to marry 'im, Bonnie t
in course I do ; and I can't 'elp thinkiij
you're a great fool to refuse to keep compu
with 'im. I ain't so young as 1 was, ;4
know, my dear, and afore long it'll be tif
for me to join your poor grandfather andi
dear boy Joe, and then what's to become
yon, left all alone, with the shop on yo^
'ands?*
*And will it 'elp yon if I marries hio
continued Bonnie.
'That it will — ^in a measure - for I should
wonder if we ended by making it one
oern. But anyways^ it'll take you off
'ands for keep, and yon eats hearty in gij
eral, yon know, Bonnie, and don't do noto
towards earnia' your food.'
' All right, then — you may tell 'im as
doitr
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
51
I alone,' remarked tM
the time to go witlil
as it; iB. La! poor!
She looks as if Bh((l|
oit.' I
i" by some of thenl
she's gone a quarter oil
d woman, as Bonnii|
passed out of view,
aty did not befall heti
d her way from HanJ
;ry Lane that day, thrf
■. It was accomplish
igh it must have takeiil
•k was striking four;,!
y form into her grand-
how white you looki
[)ubin all this time!'!
11, as the girl laid hetj
ur and fainted awajT
ameasnre-forlshonld*
Iby making it one r
ys- it'll take you off
i yon eats hearty in gj
)nnie, and don't do noU^
mr food.'
-you may tell 'im aB
Bell dropped her knitting in her
ihment.
Iq'U marry Mm, Bonnie ? Wel!,I never I
I's no knowic' the twists and turns uf a
I's mind. However, 'e'U jnmp at the
fp never you fear, and we'll 'ear the
next Sunday.'
|[(l in her enthnxiasm Mrs. Bell actnallv
Bonnie's cheek— a weakess in which
}r do not indulge as freely as the |
«
[girl turned her face to the wall as
I her {grandmother's eyes were o£F her,
,ied in silence. She was rough in
(and manner, and ignorant in mind;
was a spirit of determination and
Jice in the character of Bonnie Bell
Ewas only just beginning % struggle
CHAPTER IIL
'what are ItOU DOING HERE V
I Farthingale was one of the guests
ina Nectleahip's wedding, and highly
* had she been to accept an invitation
Hd out the prospect of a whole day
the society of Sir Arthur Chase-
She had wasted at least two weeks
ind in designing and ordering her
for the eventful occasion, and Miss
>ppenheim and she had nearly turned
las in endeavouring to decide the
merits of sky-blue, sea-green, and
[aatin islovely.dearMios Farthingale,'
Ibpenheim affirmed in her purring
Fit is fit for a duchess, and would
i rich with a white lace mantle and
t but then, only just see how the pink
its your complexion, and yet this
, gauze would be so light and ele-
fcr your mauve under-skirt. Oh dear I
Flit is almost impossible to give an
inpon so many beautiful things 1 '
Ithe time is getting on, and we really
side,' replied Selina ; 'so what do
^ Janet, to this pale pink silk, with a
*le and bonnet with blush roses ? '
reJy— lovely ! exquisite I ' exclaim-
pmpanion clasping her hands ;
in the world could be in better
k sky-blue, with forget-me-nots in
et,' continued Sehna musingly ;
Irget-rae-not " is such a sweet flower
|of touching ideas and recolleistions.'
Bry— very! Quite so I Nothing
sweeter than •' forget-me-nots " I '
1 Miss Janet.
Edove grey satin with white roses I
Oentlemen like qniet modest colours as a
rule, only dove-grey is rather an elderly tint
for a woman of my age.'
* Oh ! much too old, dear Miss Farthingale.
I am sure he would rather see you in pink —
couleur de rose, yon know, as your life is
sure to be.'
* What a flatterer yon are, Janet ! And
what right have von to allude to any parti*
oular he ? I spoke of gentlemen in general.'
' I know yon did, dear ; still, we may all
have our thoughts, may we not 7 And yoa
know he is to oe best man, and will have no
eyes for any one but yourself.'
' I don't k ow that ! I behove it is th«
custom for the best man to take in the prin*
cipal bridesmaid to brft^kfast. I think
it was most ill-natured of Regina Nettleship
to leave me out of the list of bridesmaids,
and particularly as none of them are her
rela^ons.'
' She was afraid yon would entail the rest
out — that was her reason, dear MissFar«
thingale, you may depend upon it.'
' I dare say ic was. There ia not one of
the set who can wear such a dress as myself !
But she had the impertinence to tell me that
they were none of tnem above twenty, and it
would be to my disadvantage to be seen
amongst them !'
* Oti ! the envious, sillylthing !' cried Miss
Oppenheim. ' Any one could see through
that excuse, dear Miss Farthingale: She
knew, of oonrse, that yon would put them
all in the shade.'
' And I mean to do it if possible. I think
after all I will decide on the pink, Janet.
And I shall wear the set of pearls papa gave
me last birthdr.y. I do not believe that
Regina herself will have any ornaments to
compare with them, although Lady William
never loses an opportunity of thrusting Vi«
vian Chasemore and his generosity down
my throat'
' She guesses yon will have the title, daar
Miss Farthinsale, and be the head of the
family, and the poor old woman naturally
feels jealous. They won't boast so mnoh of
their wedding after they have seen yours.'
' Yon nau^ty girl ! Yon really mnsn't
talk of my prospects so openly. Yon know
that nothing is settled yet. Though my
pa^*a certainlv has it in his power to spend
twice as much money on such an occasion
aa the Nettleships.'
' And he'll do it, too. You must mind
and observe every little detail of the wed-
ding, dear.that we may compare notes after-
wards.
' I will, unless something very particular
distracts my attention . I wish von were
going with us Janet. Yon would have been
58
TBE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
Able to look about you well, without let or
hindranoe.'
' How oould I have mixed iu luoh a my
scene iu my deep mourning, dear Hiis
Fart;hingale ? And even might I have
ohaufied it for that day, I have no money
tc buy gay dreMtee with. . You forgot that
everyboHv i» nv-tt as happily situated as
yourself.'
Selena's sallow complexion grew darker
with a blush of diaocmpnsure.
' I am aure my papa would have advanced
you a little money, Janet, or given it, if
necessary. I have told you how' hard he is
trying to save something for you out of the
remnant of your aunt's small fortune.'
' Oh ! ho is goodness itself. Bat I was
not asked to the wedding, you know, and so
there need be no question about the matter.
I shall dress - you with my own hands, and
then sit at home, thinking how beautiful
you look, and how much you are enjoying
yourself, until you come back to tell me all
•bout it. '
Selina looked down upon her humble-
minded friend almost affectionately. She
really would have enjoyed taking Miss
Oppenheim to the wedding, if only to hear
hor own praises continually dinned into her
ear. But Regina Nettleship had not included
Selina's jackal in her invitatiun^ She had
sent cards to the Farthingales themselves
only at the solicitation of Vivian Chasemere,
who considered that the man who had been
the means of restoring him to his friends
and fortune had some claim upon his
hospitality on such an occasion. So that
Miss Farthingale in her pink silk and roses,
and her little father in a brand-new suit, had
been amongst the earliest arrivals at St.
George's church on the memorable morning
when poor Bonnie Bell saw her idol shatter-
ed before her eyes, and Regina Nettleship
swept down the steps as Mrs. Vivian Chase*
more.
As Lady William had no aocommoviation
for a wedding-party at her dingy litcle lodg-
ings, Mrs. Scingo had been kind enough to
place her grand rooms at her disposal for the
reception of her friends at breakfast, and
thither the carriages took their way, as, one
bv one, they rolled from the church-doors.
Mrs. Stingo had another motive than that of
.vjoommodating Lady William's guests for
lier apparent amiability. Which of these
women of the world ever do an act of kind-
ness towards another from the single-hearted
'mah to be amiable T She lent her rooms, it
is true, and permitted her servants to help in
waiting at table, but she knew well enough
nhe should get her ' quid pro quo ' in the no-
tices of the ' Court Circular ' and ' Morning
Post,' and moat probably the ' kudos ' inUJ
the bargain of having provided the weddia
breakfast,
"^ It brought around her also (as Lady Wi]
liam had already done in her own person)^
number ot people who would never hvn
known her for herself, but of whose
quaintance she should ever afterwards!
able to boast. Whilst the people themselvo
knew they would be under no obligation I
do more than bow to Mri. Stingo, should iltj
luck bring them across her path again,
everybody was well satisfied upon Regin
Nettleship's wedding morning.
And no one more so than Selina Farthii4
gale. It is true tlu\t the exigencies of
ciety compelled Sir A.'-.hur to sit besiA
one of the bridesmaids at the breakfast-tablel
but she happened to be a girl whose on
wedding was nxed for only a fortnight lata|
and so Miss Farthingale had no fear of
attractions endangering her cause with til
baronet. She gaz^d upon him so continudDJ
during the progress of the meal, as entirelj
to neglect her own appetite and the parts
who sat beside her ; and when, as best
he rose to return thanks for the health t
the bridesmaids, she thought his speech <
the most eloquent and the best deliven
that she had ever heard. In fact the solid
tor's daughter was more enamourei of
baronet, and more determined by hook or I
crook to win him for herself, than she
had ever been before.
At last the tedious ordeal of wadi^
through a heavy and indigestible meal, ati
hour when no one is accustomed to eat kx^
thing at all, was over, and the bridegr
had been brought to his feet, and madelj
look very foolish and utter a great dealj
unmeaning tautologv ; whilst the bride kq
her eyes fixed upon her lap, and played m
vously with her gloves and bouquet. Evert
thing had been done, in fact, to make evei
bod^ else feel as uncomfortable as
possibly could.
And now the signal was given for
bride to retire and change her white is^
robes for a costume more suitable for '
railway train. The ladies fluttere<l about t
stairs and the entrance to her dresaii
chamber, until she emerged again, radii
in peacock-blue, but with the same lackj
blushins diffidence about her which she I
worn throughout the ceremony. She
good-bye to her mother and friends with t
most perfect calmness ; and Mrs. Viv
Chasemore micht have been married fort
years, as her husband handed her into I
carriage which was to convey them to
station, and waved his hand excitedly tot
crowd of friends who stood upon the do(
THB ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
B9
ibly the ' kudos ' intti
provided the weddii
lier also (as Lady VJ'it
e in her own person) i
lo wnald never havi
lelf, but of whose
Id ever afterwards I
it the people themselvti
under no obliKation t
Mrfi. Stinc;o, should ill]
isher path anain.
satistied upon Regiii
morning.
9 than Selina Farthi»
At the exigeacies of
• Ac'''.hur to sit besidi
s at the breakfast-tablj
to be a girl whose o\i
r only a fortnight latai
(ble had no fear of '
'ing her cause with tli{
upon him so continua
of the meal, as entire^
ppetite and the parti
and when, as best
lanks for the health)
thought his speech
and the best deliver
ard. In fact the solic^
more enamoured of
itermined by hook or I
r herself, than she '
I.
ous ordeal of wadi^
indigestible meal, ati
acousiomed to eat ani|
sr, and the bridegr
his feet, and madeil
,d utter a great deali
r ; whilst the bride kq
ler lap, and played m
es and bouquet. Ever]
, in fact, to make evei
uncomfortable a
nal was given for
change her white sM
I more suitable for
idies fluttered about i
ranee to her dress
emerged again, radiii
i with the same lackj
bout her which she I
le ceremony. She
ler and friends with t
ess ; and Mrs. Viv
ve been married for I
id hand^ her into
to convey them to
lis hand excitedly tot
o stood npon the do
I and threw rice after them. which settled
shirt-collar and the folds of his wife's
and occupied them for some time in
^ ig to get rid of Main. So dubions are
[blessings this world bestows npon us I
Tith the departure of the bride and bride*
1, the life of a wedding-party ceases.
I think, not without envy, perhaps, of how
|»y they will be, if only for a few days :
happy we oooe thought we should be,
how differently everyuiing turned out
wtaat we expected. There are few
ied people to whom the sight of a
" 1^ does not bring sad thoughts ; few
srned ones to whom it is not a source of
And neither melanoholy nor envy is
feasant companion. So that the first
Mon a wedding- party asks, on being left
IS : ' What shall we do to amuse our-
i seems tc be such . a dull climax to the
ing feat'lvity to have to go home at three
ok in the afternoon, and take off the
and blue satins and don again the dark
day dress, and wait patiently for din-
id roast mutton, which no one feels dis-
to eat, with the taste of the breakfast
i yet in their mouths.
. ly William's party was no exception to
rule. As soon as ever Mr. and Mrs.
Chasemore had driven out of sight,
fell npon Mrs. Stingo, and implored her
r them finish up the day U'ith a dance,
[ot a late danoe you know, dear Mrs.
cri«>d the bridesmaids, with one
' but just a carpet-hon, and home at
^Vilock; but now that de. r Reg n s gone^
fcll be so dull wiibout her I '
Stingo was quite ready to accede to
desire. She was too fat and old to
I herself ; but she would have felt as
the young ones, left to Mr. Stingo
i^her own meditations after so much
and so she consented to the p'an, and
^out to secure a pianist, and invited
f body to Mtay at her house for the re-
ler of the day.
majority of the guests took advantage
kindness. Selina was tmonffst them,
seconded the bridesmaids^proposal
loe with great avidity. She had even
Ifo far as to whisper to them that if
ptingo objected to the plan, they should
fit out at her father's house. She had
able to do more than look at and
to Sir Arthur Chasepiore as yet, and
>Bpect of an afternoon and evening
i^in his company was too delightful On
an occasion too, so full of pleasant
itions, what might not the result of a
^tete be ?
was so eager and excited at the idea,
that it was some Httle time before she missed
the presence of the baronet from the house,
and no one seemed to know where he had
gone. Some thought he must have businesa
of importance in hand, and had slipped away
to attend to it ; others, that he had accom-
panied his cousins to the station, and would
be back in half an hour.
But the half-hour came and went, and Sir
Arthur had not re-appeared. Selina was
terribly put out, though she did not dare to
show it. As the afternoon wore on she lost
her temper completely, and even proposed to
go home without waiting for the evening's
amusement But her father perceived her
humour, and urged her to remain. He
thought it so probable that Sir Arthur had
engaged to look after some of Vivian's
domestic matters for him during his absense,
and had determined to get the business over
at once, in order to be free to return to Mrs.
Stingo's for the dance in the evening. And
on that supposition Selina consented to stay
with the Itadies during the aftprnonn, and
share their tea and listen to their babble of
the compliments they had received that
morning and the partners they hoped to se*
cure that evening whilst they re-arranged
their ' chevelures' and shook out their tum-
bled skirts.
When they descended to the drawing-room
they were a very gay-looking party : a little
jaded, prehaps, with the fatigues of the day,
but stiU quite lively enough to tire out the
finger of the pianist who piped to their danc
ing. But Sir Arthur was i.ot amongst the
white-gloved oreatures who, one after an-
other, solicited tho honour of Miss Farthin-
gale's hand in the giddy waltz, and her fa^
ther's avowal that the baronet had not been
se< n again confirmed her fears.
I would much rather go home,' she said
fretfully. ' I am tired to death Wi^h so much
standing about, and have not strength for a
single dance. Do go and make my excuses
to Mrs. Stinso, papa, whilst I slip upstairs
for my manue and bonnet.'
' Won't it look rather stranffe,yonr leaving
so suddenly T' he remonstrated. ' Remember
how eager you were that she should allow
you to remain.'
' Well, one cannot always be accountable
for one's feelings, I suppose,' was the tart
reply. 'I didn't know I should be so tired.
Anyway, I shall go home, and you must
make the best excuses for me in your
power.*
No one attempted to detain them, and the
father and daughter found their way back
without the slightest trouble. It V£s liot
much more than eight o'clock, bu t
dragged her weary feet up the stair ca
Ill
'63
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
though she had heen dancing f< { hours . All
the huoyauoy had left her f rsn;ie with the de-
parture of the faithlens baronet.
' Why not go Htraight up to your bedroom,
Selina, ainoe you are so tired ? ' laid Mr.
Farthingale, as she approached the drawing-
room door.
' Bei}au8e I don't choose,' she snapped in
answer. ' Besides, I want Janet Oppen-
heim to come with me and help me to un-
dress. She will be dying to hear all about
this grand wedding, and what we hare seen
and done. '
She threw the door open as she spoke, and
advanced into i-he room, which was brilliant -
ly lighted. It appeared to be empty. But
from an inner aparLment, divided from the
first by folding-doors, there came a smother-
ed exulamation and a start at her sudden en-
Vunoe, and in another instant their issued
i om it Miss Jant.t 0|jpeahein^., sleek and
sm'^oth anl un ruffled as though she had beer
detected reading hci- Bible, whilst behind
her in the . .mi-darkaesq loomed the tall
. figure of Sir Arthnr C/hasernore ! Selina
was thrown off her guard.
' What are you doing here ? ' she exclaim-
ed angrily.
' Doing ! dear Miss Farthingale,' replied
Miss Oppenheim's meek voice, ' do you
mean me, or your friend Sir Arthur ? "^ was
reading when he came in, and he was po
disappointed at not finding vou at home,
that I ventured to t .Kgdst he should stay a
little while to see if you returned. Ch, I
hope I didn't do wrong I I thought you
could not possibly be much later, and Sir
Arthur woai>l havu been so sorry to go again
without having seen you.'
But Selina's mind was £nll of suspicion.
She turned from Miss Oppenheim without
ai.sweriug and addressed her father.
' Did not Sir Arthur understand there was
to be a dance at the Stingoes' this evening,
papa? '
' I don't know; my dear, I'm sure,' btam-
mered the lawyer ; ' I thought he did — but
I suppose he didn't, or he wouldn't be here.
Did Mrs. Stingo say nothing to you about
the dance, Sir Arthur ?'
' A dance 1' replied the baronet. * No I
Where? What, at her house? She must
be mad to think any one could dance after
such a fatiguing day. I was obliged to
leave directly after the breakfast in conse-
quence of business, and I came round here
this evening, in hopes of seeing you and
Miss Farthingale for a qniet chat over the
•vents of the morning. It all went, off very
wall, didn't it, Miss Farthingale? The
lady looked a trifle pale, perhaps ; but Vi/ian
yas quite himself, and made an excellent
speech. I thoughs it was the prettiest w«
ding I had over seen.'
' Oh, indeed !' said S« lioa, spitefully,
am glad to hear you s \y so, but I thiokj
under the circumstances, it would have
wiser for you to remain as the others diJ
instead of running away in that nuaoooail
aVde manner directly the breakfast \r^
over. Some peuple might be ill-natun
enough to infer th»t the sight of Miij'
Nettleship's marriage had been too much ft
you.'
Sir Arthur's brow lowered.
' I should no^ have been present at all ht
that been the case,' he answered.
The attendance at Regina's marriaie
been a very painful duty to him, but lie i
not choose that Selina Farthingale shod
twit him on the subject. He had not
forgiven Vivian Chasemore for succeediij
where he had failed, n.>r his wife for aidii
anr^ abetting this success, but be hoped I
had hidden hit, anger and envy from
world. And that he had not been able i
do so, only created a greated desire in
mind for reventr against those to whom i
owed i\ h imil''ai-,ioti,
Mr. i'iirthinv;aie saw the baronet's
comfitare and was amazed at his daught
want of tact.
'Of oourieie not,' he said, with au atteni{|
to smooth over Selina's rough speech,
can't think what made you say snciil
thing, my dear, when every one has
talking of Sir Arthur's affection for
cousin, and the beautiful manner in ^vh
he showed it ib his spcedh today.'
* Ah, well ! it is not of much conseqneod
replied Selina, with attempted indiffereooj
and then she turned sharply npon Ji
Cppenheim. 'And pray, how lotig isj
since you have taken to sitting in
drawing-room in our absence, Miss Opp
heim? I thought you preferred to occnj
the workroom upstairs. I am sure I '
heard you say so, often enough I'
^' Oh yes, dear Miss Farthingale ! it i
most charming little room, and I like|
better than any in the house. I was sitt:
there, reading those sweet verses of (i|
Martin fnpper; but v,:.en your frieiul
Arthnr arrived, 1 thought you ba(' m
back, and ran down ♦" m?et you, and tin
to my astonishment, J found he was alw
and wished to await your return.'
But the pertinacious way in which
Janet mentioned 'your friend Si^ A\..
d'd not satisfy Bolina Farthingale. She|
intuitively that somethine was v/rong ao|
where, and was angry with herself fori
being able t*^ find it out.
'Next time my friends call in my absei
TilE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
61
t waa the prettifiat w«
[ S« lina, spitefnlly.
a a \y so, but I think]
ices, it would have
nain as the others dij
iway in that nuaojoail
biy the breakfast ri
9 might be ill-natnn
fint the sight of l\\^
;e had been too much ft
lowered.
B been present at all 'm
he answered.
t Regina's marriase b^
duty to hiiTi, but lie (
elioa Farthingale shoni
bject. He had not
lasemore for succeedii]
u.tr his wife for aidii
iccesB, but be hoped I
ger and envy from t«
he had not been able f
a greated desire ia
gainst those to whom I
n.
saw the baronet's
ftmazed at his daught
iie said, with au atteni{j
ina's rough speech,
made you say snciil
ten every one has
ihur's affection for
Siutiful manner in wh
ipeedh today.*
ot of much conseqnenij
attempted indifferentj
ed sharply upon h
I pray, how lotig
aken to sitting in
>r absence, Miss Opn
^ou preferred to occoj
lirs. I am sure I '
en enough I'
iss Farthingale ! it i
;le room, and I likel
he house. I was sitti
le sweet verses of dj
t wr.en your friend
thought you bar c«
I *rs meet you, and tin
, I found he was al«
; your return.'
ous way in which
^our friend Si' Ai'M
a Farthingale. Shell
ethine was v/rong soij
jry with herself for i
out.
lends call in my aba
I advise you to r<iceive them in the
I drawing-room where the gaa is lighted,
of the back where there is uoue,^
Mwured. ' What on earth you can find
lose you 1>Y aittiug in the dark, I cannot
iite.'
this remark, Janet Oppenheim's pallid
actually fluahed,andStr Arthur looked
lb, dear Miss Farthingale,' the girl ex-
sd, ' how funny you are i We had only
igune into the bkck room, Sir Arthur
to see the last photograph, and I
to get it off the mantelpieoe ; and it
[hardly worth while to nave the gas
for that, was it now 7'
Tell, I suppose you could have got it
fourself.aud did not require ISir Arthur's
Itauco. You have grown terribly weak
l>f a sudden,' retorted Seliua.
Phe two men looked at each other in
se. It was hopeless to try and stem the
ant of tho fuminine tongues Sir Arthur
Ight it was time to take his leave.
[l think, as you appear so tired with the
''a cerenaay, Miss Farthingale, that I
say good-uight,' he observed quietly,
bowed and left the room. Then
la saw that she had made a great mis-
f Now, you've frightened him away,' said
' father ; ' what was the use of making
lb a fues about nothing ,Selina 1 The man
lid have spent the reat of the evening
B, if you had only left him alone.'
JOh, he is not the one to blame 1' replied
' >a, tossing her head.
[■Are you angry with me then, dear Miss
khingale ?' demanded Jauet, with plead-
jcyes. 'How could I help his coming
re T He was so anxious to see you — to
ik alone with you, I think — audi hadn't
heart to send him away, when I con-
ired that perhaps he had hardly had an
>rtunity to say a word to you all day. I
now that I had never come down to
i him at all, but it was for yonr sake,
II friend — it was all for your sake, believe
il'
|ut Selina would not believe.
^I suppose i^ was for my sake you were
up lu the back drawing-room together,
'lad bette>* be a little less friendly on
ftccouut nezi; time, that's all I have to
f Oh, she won t hear me ! She won't h''<4r
cried MissOppeuheim, w»:<:ping. ' Mr.
rthinpale, plead my eause with her, I
plore you !'
f!l think we had better put off this discus-
>n till to-morrow morning,' said tbe lawyer,
^o to bed. Miss Oppenbeim, and say no
m ~re about it. Selina will see things in a
different light when you meet again.'
' See things in adilfereni hghl I' exclaimed
his daughter aogiily, as the d«ior closed upon
her weeping friend. ' I shall do no such
thins 1 Pnpa, there can be but one issue to
this business. That girl Jeaves our house to-
morrow. '
' Just as you please, my dear ; just ar you
please. But you know the diffitiultiea that
stand in the way. '
' Bother the difficulties I I will get over
them ; but she liotisu't stay here a day
longer. The false, deo«itlul little cat !
Cannot you see that she is trying to play a
deep game with regard to Sir Arthnr ? She
wanto to vet him for herself, with her
languishing eyes and pensive downcast looks.
How I hate all Hoiueu and their double
ways I'
Seleina was pacing up and down the house,
in ber fury.
' My <lfc44r 1 you must be mistaken. It ia
quite imposaibie she can bavu ao much pre*
sumption.'
' Jb'apa, you men can never see an inch
beyond your nosbs 1 There is no limit to
the presumption of some creatures. Doubt*
less Miss Oppenheim thinks her youth and
beauty will outweigh my rioiies any day ;
but she has had her last opportunity for
iav«iigbliug that poor man into her clutches?
1 wo.^'t stand by and .see my friends dbceiv*
ed in that fashion. She shall leave thia
house before to- morrow night.'
* How do you propose to manatee it,
Seliua T'
' I shall tell her that we are obliged to
leave town at once, and that as we cannot
let her live alone here during her abeenoe,
she had better look out for another home.
Misa Netherwood would receive hor at
Clarence Lodge. She has a lot of pupil
teachers. Why cannot you go the hrvt
thing to-morrow morning to Clarence Lodge,
papa,and make the necessary arrangements ?
Tell Miss Netherwood that the girl has been
thrown upon her hands, and we wish to
place her there until matters are moru set-
tled. I fancy Miss Netherwood will
board and lodge her in return for her
services, and it's the most that see oaa
expect. '
' It will seem rather sudden, won't it ? '
' I don't care if it does. She shall not re<
main here to upset all my plans."
' Will you guarantee to make it all right
with Janet Oppenheim, my dear ? Remem-
ber that I particularly wish her to suppose
that she is dependent upon me. '
' She understands it well enough. I was
speaking of it to her only to-day. If yoa
63
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
will aettle the mfttter with MiM Netber-
woud, 1 will manage the reet, aod take the
girl to Clarenue Lodge myaelf to-murrow
•f"*rnoon.'
' V^ery well, my dear i Tery well,' replied
the little lawver, wich a aigh ; ' it Rhall be
you wish, but, whatever you do, lie«*p up
the aupi>ositiou that ahe is penoileaa. It will
be easy to profess to have reoovered the
money when I tlnd myself in a position to
pay it. But you must be " my lady" before
that happens, Seliua.'
But the smile with which his daughter
greeted this asseveration waa not quite so
couHdeui as usual.
OHAPTEU IV.
' MARRY MISS FARTIIINOALB I I OOVLDN't
DO IT I'
Belina was as good as her word { but with
this difference. The night's meditation had
Dot caused her to hesitate in the slightest
degree in her determination to turn Janet
Oppeuheim from the house ; but ahe had
arrived at the conoluaion that it would be
advidablu not to Hale that determination in
aay way with her conduct respecting 8ir
Arthur. 8he would appear to have entirely
forgotten the unpleasantness of the evening
before, and to be occupied , solely with
thoughts uf the new oumpliuation that bad
Arisen. As soon as ever the early post had
been delivured on the following morning,
therefore, she seat her maid to Miss
Opprjheim's room with the announuement
that she had received very important intel-
ligence, and wished to see her as soon as
possible. Janet hurried on her dressing
gown and joined her in a few minutes.
' Oh, dear Miss Farthingale 1 ' she com-
menced plaintively, ' 1 have scarcely slept &
wink all night — your words made me so
\. iierable. i'ray tell me that I am forgiven I
I shall know no rest until I have your
assurance that it is so. '
* Wiiat do you mean T ' demanded Selina
with affected surprise.
' Why, this unfortunate business with Sir
Arthur, of course. I ani sure I wish I had
remained upstairs altogetk er, and never gone
into that wretched L^-^ok di awing- room '
' Oh, pray don't say another word about
it I I thought something frightful had hap<
pened, from your tragic manner. I was so
tired last night that 1 can hardly remember
what did happen. But we have haJ such
bad uews this morning that it is enough to
put anything out of one's head.'
•Bad news 1 What is it?'
'Papa's aunt, Mrs. General Feasbentone
who live at Plymouth— yon must have heard
me spe*k of her '
Janet had never heard any such thing, but
she exclaimed :
' Oh yes, yes ! Pra.y go on I '
' She is very ill — dying, we are afraid — and
she is like papa's mother, you kuow, if not
more. '
' How very sad t '
' Isn't it T It has cut us up terribly. But
we m>* t go to her at once. The case admits
of no delay. If we could have caught the
morning mail, we should. As it is, we must
travel this afternoon.'
' But you will soon return I'
' I am afraid not. However her illnesa
ends, papa srys we shall be detained snm^
time at Plymouth. And what we are now
thinking of is yourself, and where to place
you during our absence.'
'Why cannot I stay here, dear Miss
Farthingale, and look after the house for
you T'
' Oh dear no I that would never do. Our
friends wouk* talk about it. You do not
know how very particular we have to be in
London. You would lose your character if
you lived by yourself.'
' Then what am I to do — a poor orphan,
without friends or a home to go to ?'
'Papa has thought of a home for you,
and has already gone to make the necessary
arrangements for your staying there. It is
with a lady of cur acquaintance, a Miss
Nether wood, who has a uharming louse and
and atjadeiny, at Clarence Lodge in bt. John's
Wood.'
Selina could not deceive Miss Oppenheim.
She saw through the * ruse' at once.
' In what capacity am I to go there ?' she
asked, in a voice apparently as meek as
usual.
' Well, my dear Jvnet, I need not re|«eAt
to yon what I have said sootten, that though
my dear father is goodness itstlf , yet you
have really no claim upon hifn, and it i*
hardly to be expected that he could keep you
liere for a lifetime at his own expense.'
' Of course not, and I know how much I
nm already indebted to Mr. Farthingale's
benevolence. But still, when be has rescued
that "small portion of money which he hopes
to save from the wreck of'roy poor aunt's
little fortune," will he not be able to repay
himself for his great generosity to me ? '
demanded Miss Janet from beneath the long
light lashes of her meek pale eye^.
Selina coloured at the remark, innocently
as it appeared to be made.
' I do not know, I am sure ; and any way,
it is quite a chance if he is sucoessf nl.
Meanwhile, you could not do better than
THE BOOT OF ALL ETIL.
Moept a borne with Miu Netherwood, wbo
is litndoeu itself.'
* Aa m te«olier I sappoee, MIm Farthin*
g»l«?'
* ! fancy yon may be aaked to do a little
in that way ; bnt if bo, the duties will be
rery liuht. I am sure yon will be charmed
with Clarence Ltulgo. Such a lovely garden
and oroqvet lawu, aud the young ladies from
the Tery tirst families. I was tinished there
myself.^
' How interesting I and I tmat that the
good edncatioa I received at St. Anna's
College may enable me to satisfy Miss Neth'
«r wood's requirements as a teacher. I think
I told you iiiat my dear suut, Mrs. Math rs,
was really tduoatiiig me t'ur the position of
governesB, uulil her grandson died, aud she
considered there was no further necessity for
it,' said Janet Oppeuheim, lixing her eyes
upon Seliua's face.
' How much does she know^^r not know ?'
thought that Udy, as uhe turned uneasily
•way.
* How soon will you be ready to start for
Clarence Locge T ' she asked presently.
' Oh, whenever yon wish ic, dear Miss
Farthingale; directly after breakfast, if con-
venient to yuurself. I have little to pack,
you know,' with a humble smile, ' and my
few poor poBsebsioni will soon be put to-
gether, fiut how shall I ever, ever thank
you for all your uoodness and hospitality to
me ?' said Miss Janet f^veutly, as she raised
her handkerchief to her eyes and rushed
from the rouui.
Helina was astonish od at the readiness
with which her prop* jal had been acceded
to. She would have b<4en still more as-
tonished, perhaps, had she seen Miss Janet
Oppenheiiii's beliaviouA wh m alone in her
own room.
' So 1 am to go 1' she said between her
teeth. ' Very good, Miss Farthingale ; very,
good. Your reason is clear enough to me.
And so I wili go,but I'll take someone with
me, or my name's not Janet Oppeimeim I I
suppose you think St. John's Wood is too
tar off to make an appointment from, aud that
there are no such thmgs aa pillar-pusts thece.
But I fancy yon will And you are rather out
of your reckoning,my dear. You had better
have kept me under your own eye by a vast
deal, and so hod your cheating old father.
But I'll be a match for the pair of you yet,
althougii I am not so much indebted to Mr.
Farthingale's benevoleuoe and hospitality.'
Ho one who had seen Janet Oppenbeim
descend to the breakfast-room an hour after-
wards, meekly clad in his morning robes,
with her coluurless hair banded smoothly on
hei forehead, would have credited the amount
of itiBgiog lareMni with whieh she had
delivered the fortgoiag neech when tker*
waa no one bat herMlIto uaten to it. Bat
•he waa •■ vioioas in her temper and dit«
position aa Selina Farthiogale,and a thonaand
times more dangerous, becaose she nad
acquired the facility of oonooaiiog what ah*
felt.
Mr. Farthingale, having itriotlj obeyod
the instructions of his daughter, waa enabled
by eleven o'olook to sen«i her a telegram
from hia office in the city, aaying that Alias
Netherwoud was ready tu receive Miae
Oppeuheim at any moment. The fact is,
tne mistresa of Clarence Lodge had many
bnainesa dealings with Mr. Farthingale's
tirm, aa to that Kentleman'a trust waa con-
tided the payment for more *L«n one of her
pupil's education ; and it was to her inter-
est to oblige him in any way that waa poa-
aible.
So that she had readily consented to
receive Misa Oppeuheim aa an extra teacher,
her board and lodging to be avoepted in
return for her services, aud her allowance fur
dr<>Me to be paid by Mr. Farthingale until he
waa able to make lome more permanent ar-
raneements on her behalf.
The little lawyer did not feel quite easy
when he had completed the tianaitction, tor
he was not so sure of his self- elected ward aa
S lioa seemed to be. However, one thing
waa certain, the two girls could not continue
under the aame roof after what had taken
place the evening before, and all he hoped
waa that Janet might eome to a know-
ledge of the true atate of her affairs until he
found himaelf in a better poaition to aououut
for ihom.
He was thinking a great deal on the
subject, wondering if his dau^thter would
ever marry the baronet, and if so, what were
the best means by which to hasten such a
blessed consummation, when Sir Arthur him-
self entered the grimy little office.
' Come in. Sir Arthur, oome in I' exclaimed
his would -b« father-in-law, aa he hnartily
grasped his hand ; ' it is not often we seo
you here, is it 7 You're more of a West- end
bird than an Eaat-end — eh. Sir Arthur ?
But I suppose you've come on some of Mr.
Vivfan Chasemore'a business, since he ia not
here to transact it for himself.'
'No, Mr. Farthingale, I have not. Strange
as yon may think it, I am here to consult you
about my own. I should have spoken laat
night, perhap., had it not been for the un-
toward little circumstance that parted us. I
trust Miss Farthingale has recovered her
fatisue of yesterdny'
Which meant. 'I trust that Miss Far-
thingale has recovered her abominably bad
M
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
t«mp«r,' but the fathar did not take it lo.
U« ooly read io the words aoxiaty for
Heliuft'e welfare, aud begaa to thiak the time
had arrived for him to put in a r.ord on her
buhalf.
' Thank yon, Sir Arthur, thank yon. My
daughter ia quite ^rell again this morniug,
f>by«iaally ipoakiug, though a little upaet itUl
rum the event yon aUude to. Hhe hae
beau to kind to Miu Op(»enheim altogether
too indulgent aud geueruua — and the girl'e
ingratitude hae naturally atfeoted her. But
•he ie etruggling agaiuet uer feelings— bravely
—bravely r
Sir Arthur did not know what anewer to
make to this haraugue. He intenslv dis-
liked Selina Farthingale, and oould not
ttuderstand in what way Janet Oppenheimbad
been ungrateful, so he turned the subject.
'l have oome to you, Mr. Farthingale,
aoouer than to a stronger, because you know
all about our family affairs, aud will under-
stand the reasons that may have led me to
this neoeasity. Tho fajt is, I am in a
bit of a hul<9, and I wont you to pull me
through. '
'A bit of a hole. Sir Arthur I Do I
understaud you to mean you are in debt ?'
'Weill very sligbtly— nothing when you
oome to hgures. .ouly a few hundred pounds.
But you see duriug those months that my
oousin Viviau whs uut turthooming, and I
naturally hoped— i mean I naturally feared
— that he might never be heard of again, and
my arandfatiier's fortune would revert to
me, 1 let out rather mor>, than had been my
custom, or than was, perhaps, prudent of me,
and the consequence is, 1 hud myself a little
in arrears. '
Mr. Farthingale no longer 'began to
think' that thu was the opportunity to
introduce Selina's name, lie felt sure that
it was so, and that he would be able to make
terms that the baronet would jump at. What
a surprise for his daughter should he be able
to tell her at dinuer-time that the bargain
was concluded, aud the accepted suitor would
wait on her that evening 1 What a splendid
and victorious wind-up for a day so unfortu-
nately begun I But he kept all these emo-
tions to himself.
' Well, Sir Arthur,' he replied placidly,
' aa J v« hat can I do for you ?'
' You can help me, Mr. Farthingale, if you
will. Lend me hve hundred pounds at your
own rate of interest, or direct me to some one
who can do so.' ,
' And your security of payment 7'
' Well, you must take that as you find it.
You know what my little principal consists
of, and that and my note of hand ought to be
be sufficient for a friend.'
' Which I trust you consider roe. Sir
Arthur. Indeed, I am disposed to do s
great deal more for you than what you ask.
Ynur disappointment about the fortune— for
it must have been a titsappoiiitment— ami
the noble way in which you have born*
it, have excited my utmost pity and a'lnii*
ration. But doubtless you will liave your
reward.'
' I (iun't see where it is to oohie from,'
returued the baronet gloomily as be thought
ot his oousin in possesaioa not only of tii«
money, but of the woman whom he hi. I
hoped to call his own.
* Oh, there's no saying I* cried the lawyer,
cheerily. ' You remember the old adage,8ir
Arthur, " There' as good fish in the sea
ever came out of it," and it's as true o( |
women as it is ot money.'
' Tell me where to hud as good money a« .
I've lost, Farthiugale, and I'll leave tlie |
women to shift for themselves.'
' But suppose they're united. Come, now I
why dout you look out for a nice girl with i\ |
fortune, and cut out Mr. Vivian altoKethur.'
'Easier said than dunei Heiresses dout I
grow like blackberries on every bush.'
' Not Rothschildki, perhaps ; but I know o( I
several girls with tidy little fortunes wlio
would be only too pleased to exchange them
for the title of "my lady."
' And meanwhile I am being dunned for |
lack of five hundred pounds. Can yor ac-
commodate me, Mr. farthingale, or oan yun I
not T '
'Certainly I oan — moreover I will — butj
like all money-lenders, I make my condi-
tions. And the first is that I should like i
to have a little talk with you about your
own affairs. Be candid with me, aodi
tell me the truth. Are you really em-
barraseed ? '
' Only to the extent I have mentioned to |
you. I have always been a careful man and I
lived within my income. I hope Vivian may|
do the same.'
' I doubt it. Sir Arthur I He has married
a wife with extravauaot ideas. "Set il
beggar on horseback ' and we all know I
where he rides to. But I beg your pardou !J
Perhaps I am trespassing on your feelingi.!
The rumour is that you would have m»ie|
Miss Nettleship into Lady Chasemore had|
she been agreeable to the ohaniKe. '
Like all mean-spirited men, Sir Arthur |
felt ashamed of the charge and denied it.
' Rumour lies as usual, Mr. Farthin^ala I
What Mrs. Viviau Chasemore may harel
wished or thought of, before my cousiol
appeared on the scene, is another question ;|
but the best proof of my intentions towardil
l">r, is that they were never carried out,|
lontider me, Sir
iapo««d to du »
n what you mIc.
the fortaue— for
ppoiiitmeub— Kud
yuu h*V0 horn*
pity aad a'hiti-
I will l»»ve your
to oohie from,'
ily M he thouglit
not only of lae
I whom he hivl
cried the lawyer,
the old adage.Sir |
ish in the tea ai
knd it'e •■ true o(
|THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
an
good money a«
ad I'll leave tU« I
Ivee.' ,
lited. Come, now !
■ a nioe K^rl with ^
Vivian altoKether.'
li HuireHsea dout
every bush.* l
ape ; but I know n(
,ttie fortunes wlin
to exchange them
I being dunned for
nds. Can yor ac-
lingale, or oan yunl
•cover I will — but]
make my ooniU.|
that I should like j
,h you about your I
id with me, amll
re you really em-
have mentioned toj
a careful man audi
I hope Vivian may
■I He haa married I
ideaa. "Set i
nd we all know
[ beg your pardou !
{ on your f eelingi.
would have made
»dy Chaaemore had
ihant(e.'
_, men, Sir Arthur
^e and denied it. I
d, Mr. Farthingale.!
laaemore may have I
before my couaini
another question ;|
intentiona towards I
never carried out,|
Iftiiongli th«r« WM •Twy opportanity of
ingea'
* I am gla4 to hear yoa say it, for thonah
Jibe report reaohld ns through Miss Nettle*
lip (and ladies, yoa know, do sometimes
Uow their imaginations to run away with
^em), and it appeared to mo meet impro*
khie that she shoald have refused your
fer, yet the idea gave a great deal of an>
BORSary pain in other quarters, and vexed
le in proportion. '
In other quarters I I did not know that
ly feelings were held of so muoh oouse-
lenoe by anybody.'
Ah, we are very blind. Sir Arthur, and
les but little of what is going on around
But I should like to see you married
a nioe girl with money. That would be
I far better way of setting out of your
Buniary diffionltiee than appealing to me.'
It would indeed,' replied the baronet,
loking his cane and staring viksantly before
im, as though he were acquieacing in au
lea that would never be carrie<l out.
' A nice girl,' repeated the ao^i itor ear-
■tly, ' well educated and well bred — not
young, you know — (I believe you are
It thirty yonnelf. Sir Arthur) — with an
rerage amount of braina and good looka,
id about — let me aee I — about twenty
kouaand ponoda, let ua aay— in her own
jht.'
Find her for me, and I'm your man I '
ied Sir Arthur, enthuaiaatically. He had
more notion aa he aaid it, that little
arthingale had a living aubjeot in hia mind'a
^e, than he had that Selina was breaking
' heart for him. And the lawyer'a audden
)ge of feature and hearty grip of the
id overpowered him with amazement.
f* Dune with you, air,' he exclaimed loudly,
[f you're a man of your word, well ao am I,
^d we need waste no more breath upon the
Uter.
I* What do you meac *' .<aid the baronet,
iwing back. ' I don't underatand the
ie.'
' It's no joke. Sir 4rthnr I iVa real aober
neat. The monev's safe in the bank,
the girl's dying for yon ; and all you've
[to do is to name the day and take them
rWhat girl f what money ?'
[Why, my daughter Seuna, tc^ be sure I
>en't I made that plain enongh to yon
ly T She's been soft about yon for a
time, Sir Arthur ; but to rectify her
(ness, you shall have twenty thousand
Inds down in hard oash upon your
Idingday, and a furnished house beside ;
if you can't make that aiuu your title
yuar profession carry yoa ahead of
6
Kir oousia and hia wife, why voa'ro nottbt
g-head«d fellow I teko yoa for.'
'Marry Mias FMrthioralo T' exolaimod Sir
Arthur, quiokly. ' Oh, I ooalda't do it i'
He hiA boon quite in •ameet when h*
said he shoald like to marry an heirees, bal
he had not dreamt of Selina Farthiogalo M
he made the avowal. Say what we will of
them, men do not nearly so often sell them*
selves for filthy lucre aa the other half d
creation do. They like luxury, doabtleM.
and a woman loses none of her charms ia
their vyes from being rich ; but it is only th«
lowest and most unmanly of their sex who
will deliberately relinquish all their drsana
of beauty in exchange for wealth. Thsf
always want an heiress, but it must be aa
heireaa of their own choosing, endowed with
eveiy charm and virtue under the aun—a
kind of fabuloua creature which they end bjr
never meeting at all. Sir Arthur, from
hia diaappointment of loeing Regina
Nettleship with her fair atately grace, nad
no relish for the aallow complexions and
angular proportions of Selina Farthingale^
and he was perfectly sincere in blurtms oai
the unpalatable truth that he 'conldn'l
marry her.'
' Couldn't do it ?' echoed the father. 'Then
what on earth have yon been driving at all
this time T'
' Not a marriage with your daughter,
sir. It was the very furthest thing from
my thoughts. Have I ever said or don«
anything to make yon imagine otherwise V
' No, Sir ArtHur, no i not until these last
few minutes.. But when you told me so
plainly that you wanted to many a girl with
money, I thought you must have your eys
upon Selina. '
'Indeed, Mr. Farthingale, you do m«
too muoh honour. I have never even
aspired to the idea. I am not worthy of
Miss Selina, and even if I were so, the fact
of my not having yet paid her any. attention
would be a serious bar to our diacussing the
matter.'
' I thought the attentions might oomo
afterwards,' aaid the discomfited lawyer:
' however, of course, if you haven't a mind
for the girl, it's no use saying any more
abont it. But you won't let this go any
further will you ?'
' You may trust me implioity. But how
about the five hundred pounds T'
' There it ia you aee I You might h*FS
made it thouaanda, and welcome, if we could
only have arranged this little matter between
as. And I thought it would have been a
perfect sodaend for you, particularly when
yon think of all the practice I could hare
put into yonr hands.
■'r-
60
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIU
'It woald indeed, under other oironm-
dlMioei ; bi^t witboQt aft'ection, yon see, Mr.
FlMihui|(»le, even money loeea it* vahie. I
am rare yon muat care toe much for your
charming daughter to wi: i to riikher happi>
' Oh, prty say no more abont it,' replied
tho other, ae he hid his ihamed face amoDgst
hut papera. ' You ihall have the lum yon
require tO'inorrow, Sir Arthur, if yon will
bring me the proper seonrities; and itow.ae I
have a great deal of work on hand, I will
bidyou "good- morning."'
The men akook hands and parted, both
wishing heartily that the interview that had
JQst passed had never taken plaoe.
Mr. Farthinmle intended to keep it a
secret from SeUna, but after a few weeks
her fretfulness at the baronet's continued
abeence from their house caused so many
disHensions between them, that in a mo-
ment of irritation he told her the whole
sterr.
Her rage was terrible I The idea that her
father, by what she termed his ' uieddlioK
interferenoe,'had blighted her prosp^uts in
life and spoiled the game she had just
cleared the course to play made her lose
all self-command. She called Mr. Far.
thinnle by every opprobrious epithet she
could think of, and so angered him that he
made up his mind he hM been a fool to
devote his life and wealth to her as he had
done,and that thenceforth he should be v/iaer
to. think more of his own comfort and less of
that of his daughter.
80 Mr. and Miss Farthingale (after the
very serious quarrel that followed Sir
Arthur's rejection of the lawyers overtures)
commenced life anew, auH under very diffe-
rent auspices. Each took the path that
seemed best, without any consideration for
the feelings of the otiiher, and the result was
an almost total sepan.tien. Selina could
neither forgive nor forget the fatal tormina*
tion to her father's interference in her love
affairs ; nor ti, the insolence with which
she had greeted his failure.
Gradually but surely, therefore, they
drifted apart, tc find sepak-ate friends, pur-
suits, and pleasures. And it never entered
Miss Selina's elever heJsd to imagine that
without her watchful eye to foresee danger,
there was a probability of her father drift-
ing into something still worse than separa-
tion.
CHAPTER V.
*'TWAa I OIVl 'IM UP.'
The end of autumn was not the most
healthy part of the year for Drory Lane, nor
the most profitable time for Mrs. Bell's trad*
ing. Perishes, nectarines, and grapes were
luxuries too costly fcr the purses of her re*
gttlar customers ; aidded to which sundry un«
welcome vi»itors, in the shape of dineaaes en-
gendered b;^ the hot summer and the unripe
^ruit, were in the habit of visiting Drury Lane
and it«i environs aboutthat period, and making
its inhabitants rather shy r>f all sorts of ve^e*
tables. So the little shop did not look its
best. The chean flowers were all over, so
was the cheap fruit, and a few huidfuls of
brown filberts or a bunch of daMias was all
that Mrs. Bell could afford wherewith to
decorate her window. Everything looked
melaRcholy, inside and out, and not a breath
ci fresh air was to be obtained from the
dusty street, which reeked with the smell of
decaying refuse, and rang with the cries of
fractions, fevered children.
Bonuie drooped iu the inside parlour, and
her grandmother moped behind the counter,
ofteu wishing she was at rest in the Bronipton
Cemetery with the two men she had laid to j
sleep there. When Kit Masters had odled
on three consecutive days, without receiving
any fresh orders, he began to think there
must be something very wrong at the little I
shop in Drury Lane*
' Why, look ye here, Mrs. Bell,' he ejaoa-
latedj as he removed his fur cap and scratched I
his head : 'this won't do, ve know ! What'i
come over you md the shop that ye don't
want nothing again to-day ? I've got as fine
nuts and apples as you'd wish to see, instl
fresh out of Kent, and pertates as fall to I
pieces on :.he fork. What on hearth's gone!
and come to ye that ye don't want 'em ?
' Oh, it's of no use your worrying' me arterl
that fashion. Kit Masters 1 I don't want 'em,!
and that's enough for' you • There's no ontl
comes to buy 'em now. What with the drjl
season and the touch of chiilery they've 'sdl
down 'ere, the bisness has fallen off dreadfrLF
I'm fnre I'm quite down like abont it slLl
There s nigh a sack of them last pertaters leftl
yet. I can't think what the people's livinf
on — but not vegetables, I can take my ostkl
of that !' I
' That's a bad look out, Mrs. Bell,' repliedl
Kit, scratching his hesd still more. 'ItT
comes of your 'aving a shop, you see. It|
don't answer all the year round. You shou!;
set up a 'orse and cart like mine, and tfaeil
when your cuHtomers don't come to you, yoil
could go to them. Why, it's the ereat«'
trouble to me to keep the vegetables for yd
till I gete round to this street, I 'ave so nuui}j
a-clamourin' to let 'em buj' !'
' A 'orse and cart I' repeated the old won
witheringly. ' Qet along, and don't talk 1
N
THB £00T OF ALL BVIL.
67
ibbbh to iM. Why, what should I do with
!• 'one Mid oart, with my ouui and 'i» son
rmoalderia' in thmr fpn^TM ? Who'd drive
^•m? tell t no that I Yoa niut bo olosn daft
talk of vioh a thing I'
' Well, ye MO, Mn. Boll, if Bonnio ooold
I broiUKhtto too mutton in onr Uffht,'twoald
the making of >^ i and mo, ma'am. ^ I
OMrry tm this oonaarn with you in a
rablo way, ai yon may say, and you'd al«
%y» have some ono tojook-artor the bian«M
fhen you was ill or took 1 Here'a my 'orae
ad oart— all my own propurty — and theer'a
18 shop ; and what wasn't wanted ere, Boa*
' I and I oould take round and dispoae on
srwards. 'Twould be the fortin of un all,
trs. Bell, and we might live to ride in cmr
idgel'
'Aye, so we might, lad I and the gal's a
}1 not to see it I But theer, she comes of a
fcy-aotor, and what can vou expect? I
;ht die and rot afore she'd move a 'and to
fp me !'
' This was a very unfair assertion on the
; of the old grandmother : but she was
Itish like the rest of us, and fully believed
Hat she said.
}he had held many suoh conversations
Kit Masters, and tcj^^oted them to her
inddaughter, before the day on which
ie groped her painful way home-
Is, and fell fainting on the floor. The
woman's heart was touched then, and
Bnthe girl assured her, and her first com-
id of speech, that she would do as she
led ana marry Kit Masters, her heart
touched still more. Her gratitude and
;ht at the intelligence were so great, that
lie would have found no opportunity of
sting, even had she wished to do so.
in truth she was indifferent, or she
{ht she was.
10 bridegroom' eleot was cautioned by
Bell not to be too rough in his wooing,
he should frighten the girl into with-
ring her consent again • and acting on
I advioe, he crtntinuMl so to behave him-
las not to extort more than an occasional
jbions objection from Bonnie's lips when
ipted to play the lover somewhat too
evident indifference and aversion often
an oath from him ; bat he consoled
' with the belief — so larKoly indulged
' men better educated than he was — that
jo would amend all that dissatisfied
in courtship, and that the wife would
lenly blossom forth into something en-
V different from the maiden. Why men
Id deceive themsolves with this idea it is
Bult to say.
Immon sense might teach them that the
girl who shrinks intoitiTcly from their
bnMM is hwrdly likely to proT* a passi«
and devoted wife ; bat everything that dia*
pleasea Uieu before marriage ia set down to
maidenly retioenoe and modeety, whioh the
magic nog is to wt richt— that rin^ alaa I
whioh usudly proves its magio by showing
up two people in their true o(Mohr8» and bind-
ing them fast tcMjether, in order that they
msy be separated for evermore.
The wooing of Christopher Ifasters and
Mary Bell went on in a very proaaio and oom-
mon-plaoe manner. I believe the chief reason
the girl had for consenting to the marriage was
the idea of getting away from the oloee
rooms and street tbat seemed to be stifling
her, and driving round the town and into
the country in Kit Masters' light spring-
cart. She had several of these drives aoring
the weeks that the banns werr being oalled,
and the pleasure o! them seemed to put new
life into her veins. It is true that she often
sighed as they came in sight of the still,
deep-flowing river, and wished she lay dead
and cold beneath the water ; but her sorrow
was more a pensive than an active grief, and
she was too young really to wish to die.
There was no antagonism in her real life, as
yet, to make that other and ideal life con*
trast with it as heaven with hell.
So long as we have our losses only to be«
wml, it is easy to suffer ^jatiently. It is th»
existent wrong that raises the demon within
us, and makes the loss seem twice as great
beside the hated gain.
So Bonnie journeyed listlessly towards the
goal of her life, an«1 heard that the banns
had been cried for the third time, and the
following Sunday would be her wedding-day,
without visible feeling of any sort There
were very different preparations made for
this wedding from those that had been re-
quired before Miss Regina Nettleship could
be married in a manner befitting the grand-
daughter of the Duke of Mudford. Mn.
Bell, in her delight and ^pratitude at Bonnie's
tardy acquiesence, did insist upon the girl
being married in a ' real silk gown,' which
hung upon her about as naturally as one of
her morning dresses would have done upon
a duchess ; but besides that festal attire and
a new hat to ride about in his cart with Kit,
there was not much alteration made in poor
Bonnie's usual wardrobe. Mrs. Bell had no
money wherewith to parchase bridal out*
fits.
When the marriage morning came and the
Cr'remony (through whioh Bonnie stumbled
in a dazed and absent manner, that left an
impression on the parson's mind that the
bride was either deaf or silly) was ccrapl9ted,
the weddiQg-party, whioh inuladed Kit's
THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL;
fathar and mother, Mt down Id the beok
parlour of Mn. Bell'i shop to dine o£f roMt
pork and greens, and to drink the health of
the marriM couple in gin and water. After
which Kit drove them all in his care to Rich-
mond, where they hired a boat and went up
and down the river ; and the old people got
TO' y merry %nd the gallant bridegroom quite
intoxicated ; and poor Bonnie sat at one end
of the boat, shrinkins visibly from the en-
dearments of her lord and master, and won-
dering why people were always so anxious
to get married, and if she should ever be
■o happy again as she was in the old days
when she lived alone with her grandmother,
and kept the rooms clean for Mr. Alfred
Waverley !
Ah, Bonnie, not much need to ask I The
veriest tyro in the history of human na-
ture might have answered you 'No.'
It had been decided that as Mrs. Bell's
house had riore accommodation in it thaa
she required the newly-married couple should
take up their abode with her. And Bonnie,
frightened when the time came of leavins
her srandmothpr,had dung to this idea with
avidity. Mr. Kit Masters, therefore, became
the responsible tenant of the rooms which
had once been occupied by Alfred Waverley
and the spot in which her first sense of love
had been awakened was the scene of Bonnie's
honeymoon.
Do the lower classes ever love and mourn
and feel in proportion with their higher-bom
brethren ? The^ have not bfleu reared to
think and act deliberately, and we all know
what the sensitive flower of li ve is degraded
to when it is stripped of refinement. Do any
amongst them lo^e with their heads as well
as their hearts T I have watched and ques-
tioned them closely, in their various joys and
trials, and I doubt whether they can either
sorrow or rejoice with the same power of
feeling as those who have more leisure to
devote to a contemplation of themselves.
Had a sentleman fallen in love with
Bonnie BeU, he would have invested her
with a thousand attributes unseen to the
common eye, and bred of his own affection.
The girl was really pretty and modest, and
sweet in voice and manner. Her eye had
the pensive tint of the harebell, and her cheek
waR like a wild rose flushed at the heart.
Ber supple figure might have supplied a
painter's model, and thfre was a aelioaoy
about her smooth skin and a refinement in
Hm low, dreamy tones of her voice thatraised
her far above her fellows. There was an
elevation also in the mind that ouuld cherish
a fancy anuh as she had oouceived for Alfred
Waverley, that, well directed and wooed
back to its legitimate resting place, wonld
have transformed the girl into a good and
grateful wife, if not a loving one.
But Kit Masters, coarse in breeding and
manners, was not the man to effect this. In
his eyes, Bonnie was nothing more than any
other pretty girl— a trifle less, perhaps, luioa
she was absent and listless, which are bad
qualities for the mistress of a woiking man's
home. * He thought her a' main good-lookin'
lass.' She had 'took his fancy, 'aslieexpresed
it, and he didn't see why she shouldn't be as
useful a wife as any when she was ' stirred up
a bit. ' But had any one suggested to the
costermoneer that there were depths of feel-
ins in the neart of his new possession that
only needed culture and education to trans-
from the girl into a poetess or a painter,
he would have thought his informant either
drunk or mad, and liave jeered at the idea
as an incomprehensible piece of nonsense.
In his eyes, women were animals, either
more or less agreeable to view, that had to
be coaxed or coerced according to their ho*
haviour.
Bonnie was a woman ; ' ergo,' Bonnie was
an animal, placed in his power and tc be
treated a« his superior judement direc\'ied.
This was the style of Kit Master's reason-
ing.
As to Bonnie herself, her married life,eTen
in those first days of rough wooing and in-
dulsence, became a horror to her. She .flew
to her grandmother full of complaints and
entreaties for redress ; but the old woman
naturally assessed her wrongs at the nsnid
worth of matrimonial grievances, - and so
Elainly pointed out to her that she had set
er feet on a path from which there was no
return, that the poor girl sank into a species
of apathetic despair that never afterward!
forsook her. She soon became afraid of
her husband — afraid of his easily roused
passion — his coarse oaths and vituperation.
— still more of his rough caresses and compli-
ments when he had recovered his temper
again. Her greatest pleasure was taken in
. M daily drives they had in the spring-cart,
and to be demiyed of going rounds with him
became her greatest punishment. Never
mind how early Kit had to be in Corert
Garden market, in order to secure the beet
and freshest vegetables and fruit, Bonnie was
sure to be up and dressed in time to aocom-
pany him, and ^ Masters's pretty wife ' ynit
soon as well known amongst the Tendon ••
himself.
She enjoyed seeing the oonntry cars, hi|^
piled with oabbages,oanliflowers,lettn.'es and
greens of all descriptions, come rolling in to
take up their appnmted stand on the .^arV^t
pavement and unload their itaeke of goode.
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
[ood and
ling and
this. In
than any
kpa, lino*
are bad
ing man's
td-lookin'
expreaed
In't be as
itirred up
mL to the
i» of feel-
wion that
to trans*
i painter,
uat either
the idea
nonhenae.
Js, either
%t had to
their he*
k>nnie was
kod tc be
direc\'-ied.
r's reasca-
d life,eTen
Qg and in*
I She flew
faints and
d woman
the nraal
and so
had set
le
no
hre was
a species
afterwards
afraid of
ly ronsed
tnperation
nd compli*
his temper
taken in
prinS'CArt,
■ wira him
t Never
in Corert
re the best
Bonnie was
itoaooom-
wife' wa«
vendors •■
oars, high
ittuv'ss and
tiling in to
the .^larVrt
I of gOOdSi
She became interested in choosing the best
apples and pesn aad oranges, and learned so,
qawkhr to distingrish between bad and good
tnat Kit soon left her to make the fruit par-
chases by herself. She was a different girl
here to what she had been in heir grand-
mother's little shop. The life around her, the
chaffing and ohaflfering, ronsed her languid
brain into something like action, and put her
to her mettle. But still she was vaguelv and
restlessly unhappy. When the shop'.had been
supplied for the day, and Kit and she had
had thezr breakfast, they would leave Mrs.
Bell to attend to her castcmers, and wander
forth again with a cart full of fruit and vege
tables, to visit all the streets where Masters
was known, and dealt with on his own ao-
count. Some would have considered it very
monotonous and tiring to occupy the wooden
seat of the cart all day, sitting atill sometimes
for half an hour while the costeraionger was
talking with an old cnstomer and persuading
her to buy more than she required. But
Bonnie never felt weary. She was straining
her eyes all the time to catch sight of a form
they longed to gaze on. Every now and
then, as tiiey urove round a corner or crossed
a street, her heavi would be jerked backward
to regard some passing figure ; or, going
home in the dark, she would peer in the foot-
passengers' faces as though she would devour
their kneaments in the gloom. Her r>oods
did not long pass unnoticed by Kit Masters.
More than once he asked her gruffly who she
was ' cocking her eye at, arter that fashion ; '
and she had shrunk from the question and
murmured some unintelliitible reply, which
had only urged him to order her ' not to let
him catch her doing it agen. ' One or two
little quarrels had arisen from this circum-
stance—one or two sullen fits, that is to say,
on the part of Mr. Masters, which had
resulted in fits of another gender, namely
intoxication. Both Bonnie and her grand-
mother had been terribly alarmed on these
occasions, and the old woman had gone so
far as to 4sk herself if the convenience of the
"orse and cart ' was worth such a disturbance
in her hitherto peaceful household. But there
was nothing to be done but to bear it, as the
women weepinely agreed, for tnere was only
onti master in we house now, and they were
two >pitif ul trembling slaves. Yet otill Bonnie's
eyes roved incessantly up and down the
London streets in search of Alfred Waverley,
and the colour came and went on her ch<vk,
in fitful flushes, if she caught sight of a coat,
or an umbrella, or a sticl^ that she fancied
might belong to him.
Kit Masters could not rob her of her one
cherished secret hope, but he was very dose
upon guessing the truth of her normal state
of excitement and nervous less, and turning
it into no secret at aU.
One day, in the beginnins of Qeoember,
when they had been man ana wife for about
two months, it all came out. It was a bright
fresh moruing, and Bonnie had been more
cheerful and animated than usnaL Kit had
bought her a cloak to keep her warm whilst
drivmg,. and she was grateful for his atten*
tion, and had told him so. They had started
on their usual round of dttty, conversicff
quite amicablv, and the old grandmother had
stood at the door and smilM to see them so
gay. Wheft, as they drove down the Strand
on their way to Westminster, Vivian Chase-
more walked suddenly out of a restaurant
and stood on the edge ef the pavement, wait-
ing to cross the street until the ipreengrocer's
cart should have passed by. Bonnie's eve
fell on him, and in an instant her whole de-
meanour changed. The words she was abont
to utter failed upon her tongue — her gla&ce
was transfixed to the spot where she stjod—
her colour came and went withunconcrollabe
energy, and her whole frame shook ais if witli
the ague. Kit Masters glanced at his wiie
and then at Vivian Ohasemore (whom of
course he recognised), and guessed the tmth
at once. Bonnie was ' sweet upon that cliiap
as used to live at her grandmother's.' Thu
was the reason of her silence and indifference
^f her tears and complaints. Tbia the
reason that she stood gazing with all her eyes
at tiie prints that were pasted on the walls of
their bedroom, and would allow no hand to
wind up the clock their lodger had given her,
but her own. His wife was ' sweet upon' Mr.
Waverely I Werry good I she 'adn't 'eard
the last of it, by no manner of means.'
Kit only expressed his marital Ibdignation
at the moment, by whipping up his unfortu-
nate horse and sending it at a fast trot into
Westminster, whilst Bonnie tried tocidm
down her agitation and appear the same as
usual; Vivian Ohasemore had not even
raised his eyes towards the ^greengrocer's
cart ; but in the brief moment of their meet-
ing Bonnie had token in every detail of his
Landsome person — had noticed the fashion-
able garb he wore, and the bronzed and
improved appearance of his face and fligure.
She was veiy silent aftor the encounter : she
could not do otherwise, for directly she tried
to speak something arose in her throat and
choked her, and it was with difficulty she
could keep back her tears. Her husband
was also ominously morose. He only ad-
dressed one sentonce to her aftor they had
met Vivian Ohasemore.
' That 'ere was Mr. Hatfred Waverley (as
you used to call 'im) as we saw in the Strand,
ust.now, warn't it ?' he demanded, on tha
70
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
flraft oooMioB of his being obligad to lo»re
llMOMrt.
* ¥«■,' sIm Mid in * low Toioo;
' W«rry ^ood, Mrs. MMtert, worry good,'
ho Mu w«red ominonaly, m ho gtvo hor »
■toro oat oi hio little keaa oyoa. And that
WOT) all tho eommaoiefttion that took place
bet.ween them till they reached home again.
By that time, what with tho silence and
her own thonghta and repreased emotion,
Bonnie had grown so nfrvoosand diiqaieted,
that the. lint thin^ she did on ffsiniog her
n^jm waa to burst into tears. Kit, who had
foUowfld her upstairs, tirst turbed the key
in thO'door, and then seized her roughly by
the arm.
' Now, whaVii the meanin' of all this T '
he oommfnoed, angrily. ' You'd best tell
me at <moe, for, by the living Jingo ! you
don't leave this 'ere room till I know.
What's the reason that yon 'aven't said a
blessed word to me all this moroin', a bin
a>sittin' as glum as a howl on your seat, and
Uinkin' your heyes to keep tlie tears back ?
What's the meanin' of it, I say ? '
"Tain't nothing,' repUed Bonnie, through
her tears.
* That's lie the fust 1 How many more do
ye mean to tell me ? Now, I won'e 'ave no
nonsense, you know ! I'm your 'asband,
and I've right a bask what what you mean
by a-thiverin' and a-shakin' arter that
fashion directly you claps your eyes on
another feller. Ah ! ye think I didn t twi^r
you, I suppose ; but I oau see through a 'ole
in the wall as f ar as hany man, audi know
as plain as if you'd told me with your ow^a
month *.bat its that hulking obap Halfred
Waverlejiias you're a blubberin' arter now.'
' Oh, don't— don't ! ' implored Bonnie.
.Don't what— ye fool I Don't speak so
Slain and open to your ladyahip, I suppose.
)h, we're mighty inneroent and moaest, I
know I We oan't throw a civil word to our
'usband, who keeps as in board and lodging
like a honest woman, but we oau go a-sniv-
tellin' arter a lanky oove that ai't't no man>
ner of relation to us. jist beoaua^ 'e vears a
fine ooat and 'm got a diamind ring upon 'is
finger.'
' I tell yon it is not so t ' oried Bonnie,
passionately. '^
' That's lie the second I I know all your
capers just as well as you know 'em your^
self, and it's no use trving no dodges with
me ; and if yon do I'll make you pay for it
with a rope's end. So now you've heard
my mind about it.'
' I hate you I ' said the girl, turning
wrathful eyes upon him.
' I dessay vou do. Tht tS nothin' noo.
Most wives ate their 'usoands. It's the
fasshun nowadaya. But you'd best, tidnk
twice aboat tellin' me so. I're found oa^
the reason of yoar h'aira. I 'aU snspeoted
it all along, bnt to*day has nude me sure.
Yoa're sweet upon that Halfred Warerley,
and yon tuk me just beoause yon found yon
oouldn't 'ave 'im. Isn't it now ? '
* I shan't tell yon I Yon are cruel to me.
It's no business of vours, whether or no^'
she gasped between her sobs.
' Oh, ain't it no business of mine I Well
soon settle that matter. Anyways I knows
it, and now I've got a bit of news for you in
return. You was main out up, warn't yon,
when that chap was found out to be a lord
or summat, and ■ left your grandmother's
lodgings, and you didn't see Im no more t
Well, then, 'twas I give 'im up. 'Twas I as
see the advertiMment fust and the reward
offered, and went and give 'is description
and whereabouts to the lawyers, and set 'em
on 'is track, and got fifty pounds down for
the information. Warn't that prime ? And
'twas mainly on account of that fifty pounds
that your grandmother pushed on our
marriage ; and it's part on it as you wears on
your back in the shape of that new cloak. So
you see I've 'ad my share ont of Mr. Halfred
Waverley as well as you, my gal, as it's only
fair as I should 'ave. And now, what do
you say to hall that ?'
What she said was to tear the cloak off
her shoulders and trample it under her feet.
What she said was to turn eyes npon her
husband, glaring with fury and impotent
revenge, before she cast ners<)lf headlong
upon the sofa and burst into a storm of
passionate tears.
' Oh, that won't be no manner of use V con-
tinued Kit Masters in a bullving tone. 'I
ain't done with yon yet, my lady, nor with
Mr. Halfred Waverly neither.'
He took the little clock she prized so
much up in his hands as he spoke and
dashed it on the ground, where it was
smashed to atoms ; then, walking int<^ the
next room, be deliberately tore the painted
pictures in ribbons from the wall, and cast
them in shreds upon the floor.
' Kanytbinf^ mere of Mr. Halfied Waver*
ley's ' he inquired joooeely ,as he returned to
the sitting-room, * Ha t a picter or two,'
treading them beneath his heel as he spoke,
' And now I think we've pret^ well finished
with that gentleman and 'is belongings.
What do you say, ma'am ?' he added, as ne
sat down by Bonnie on the sofo and lesrad
into her face.
She sprang into a sitting posture and qia'
at him. The act roused him to fnry, and he
struck her a violent blow upon the aide o
THE BOOT or ALL EVIL.
fl
inipMtad
TvftUy,
onndyon
b1 torn*,
r or no**
1 1 We'U
1 1 knowi
[or yon in
rn't yott,
be » lord
dmotber*!
no more t
TwmIm
iO reward
esoription
ad set 'em
down for
net And
ty ponndi
I on onr
1 we»n on
cloak. So
r. Helfred
IB it's only
, what do
I cloak off
r her feet.
ijpon her
impotent
headlong
■torm of
UM V oon*
tone. *I
nor with
priced lo
>oke and
it waa
int«« the
painted
andoaat
Waver,
tnmedto
or two,'
■poke.
Ifimihed
longinn.
led, aa he
id leered
»andapat
, and he
e aide o
the head, which made her aink down to her
former poeition with a low moan.
We hare atarted the rariona peraonagee
of thia atory upon their separate careers.
Some appear already to have loet the same,
others to have won. Bat is there reuljr so
much di Terenoe after all io the positions
which aie allotted to each haman creatures t
Is there any joy in this world aomingled
with sorrow — any sorrow which has not its
modicnm of relief t Vivian Ohasemore, Re*
gina Ncttleship.and Kit Masters have attain-
ed the jpriaea they aspired to; Sir Arthur,
Selina Farthingale, and Bonnie Bell have been
worsted in the race.
The little lawyer has quarrelled with his
daughter; Lady vVilliam is left grumbling
alone in her apartments ; and Janet Oppen*
heim has been banished to Clarence Lodge.
No one seems to be in the same position or
to entertain the same hopes they did four
months before, except it oe the greengrocer's
old widow, who has learned to look for noth-
ing but the grave.
It is the safest hope for any of us to in*
dulge in, since it the only one that is certain
of realization.
Still, the men and women of this history
have sundry changes yet to undergo before
their biographer can lay down the pen that
transorilMS it, and those who have had the
patience to read of tlium so far, may have
the curiosity to pursue their fortunes to the
end. Two years and a half will have passed
over each of their heads before we meet them
again.
jHAPTER VL
*8at an olb vrixnd oallbd to &■■ hkt.*
When Lady WiUiam Nettleship harl had
time to settle down, after the exci'Mtment
consequent upon her daughter's wedding,
and to look her future ste^ily in tkir face,
■he found that sho had gained a great deal
more than ahe had lost by the ^ransfor<'n»tion
of Miss Begins V ettleship intrt Mrs. Vivian
Ohaaemore. Five hundred a year is a sorry
income on which to keep cp an appearance
of respectability when one is compelled to
meet from it all thu outlay attendant on the
dressing and taking about of a young and
fashionable lady on her promotion. But
when it has to be applied only to the want
of an old woman who prefers oard< parties and
dinners at her neighbour's expense rather
than at her own, it will go a considerable
diatance. And Lady WiUiam felt the better
for Begina's departure not only in the
inoreaM*^ freedom ^ her panw<«trjbs0s ; a
load f. ^ed lifted tmm her exisl«ao« whett
her danghter'a eapionage waa ramoved. 9k»
waa a very worldty and pl^aanre^iieekiag old
lady, who loved gambling and late hu9rB,and
would atoop to any depth to ;<ain a dinner or
aloan. And B^ma had reetndued her in all
thia. Besina, who, with her fanlta of eoldneaa
and pride and love of money, waa a Ime
gentlewoman in feeling, had blnahed al her
mother's nroolivitiee for gaming and
placing herself under obligatiaaa ' to
people ahe desjinsed, and had tended by her
scornful behaviour to keep many from their
dooraiwho would otherwise gladly have
entored them. With her marriage the barrier
was removed, and it waa not long before
Lady William waa acquainted with naif the
circle of Mra. Bunnymede's friends, the
majority of whom were altogether beneath
her in station, whilat that lady herself
almost lived in the house. As soon aa Lady
William had exhausted the topic of Begina^s
wealth and luxuruv and ingratitude^ ahe
began to consider — having quite made up her
mind that Vivian Chasemore ahould defray
the expenses of the wedding trousseau and
breakfast on his return — whether she could
not better her condition by seeking other
lodffings than those she occupied. Upon
which Mrs. Bonnymede proposed that they
should set up house together. Mrs. Bunny>
mode had a chai^ming little villa in Ken*
sington, which, with the furniture it otm-
teioed, waa all her own ; none of her frienda
knew how she had come by it, any more than
they knew whence she derived the money
on which she contrived to live so com*
fortebly ; nor did she vouchsafe to enlighten
them upon either matter. The fact, now*
ever, remained, and when ahe offered to let
her dear Lady William share her hnmble
*■ menage,' the bereaved moths'.i- consentdl to
do so at once. She knew a little of the 8tyl«
in which Mrs. Bunnymede lived ; of the
snug litUe card^paTties ahe held which no one
dreamed of breaking up 1/sfore the small
hours had arrived ; of the free and eaay way
in which people walked in and ont of her
house and she of theirs ; of the delicate
dinners she gave her friends, and the
generosity with which the wine was ciron*
lated at them, and decided it waa just the
sort of life which would suit her best. There
was ne daughter now to try and keep up the
proprieties, and frown her down when ahe
was going to«i far, or mercileeoly remind her
of the hour every tiLie the dock afrmok.
Old Lady William felt like a girl auddenly
released from school discipline, as she re*
cognised the delightful position Bt^ina'a
marriage had plsioed her in, ami by
"M
w
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
the tim* the ViviMi ChMemor«>« retarned
from their wedding ^^ip, iMtty touad her per*
auaently iaiitelled as »a i ornate of Mrs.
RaDQymede'M house.
The oiroutnetttuoe diHg^asted Bagine, end
eoneiderably nr.'joyvd. iier busbaovl. Few
people about town were unacquainted with
the character borne by the widow of KansinK-
koOf and her social proptsnsitiea rendered her
most unht to be ihe tiostess of suuh a woman
as Lavly William Nettleatiip. Rogina de>
olared from the tir«t that no power should in-
duoa her to set foot in the bouse, nor to re-
•eire her mother at her o ^n, unless she came
nnacoompanied by Mrs. Kunnymede. And
to this determination she had relitiioasly "d-
hered. It had no effect, however, in induc-
ing Lady William to seek another house.
The wicked old woman was only too
delighted with the existence sue '^as leading.
To 06 able to gamble and rouge and talk
ioaadal to her heart's content, free to make
wh*t acquaintances and keep what hours she
ehose, was heaven to her, after the some-
whftt domineering rule to which she had been
M long subjecte£
Mrs. Vivian Chasemore's remonstrances
and refusal to visit her only formed a fresh
frievance wherewith to entertain her friends.
Ler daughter's hard-heartedness and ingra-
titude and pride were copious subjects for
dilation and many of her hearers were really
paranatied that Lady William Nettleship was
a wy injured ana long-suffering mother.
Ska aid not refuse to go to her daughter's
kooae ; on the contrary, she appeared there
mochoftener than Kegina desired, though the
pride of blood forbade her letting strangers
■ee that sbe was ashamed of her own mother.
A lerions difference, however, occurred be*
tween them on the occasion of Lady William
pleading her poverty to Vivian Chasemore,
as an excuse for asking him to defray the
wedding expenses.
'This is degrading,' cried Regina with
flashing eye- , as soon as the two women
fouud themselves alone. ' Yon know, mam-
■M, that you would be perfectly able to pay
ttioee bills if you would only exercise a little
•df-denial. I wonder yon could stoop to
ask Vivian staoh a favour. I would have gone
•pon dry bread and water for a twelevemonth
int.*!
'BealljTt Regina, one would think you
were talking of a stranger. I should like
to know who has a better right to pay these
bills than your husband 7 A man can't
Mcept to marry the granddaughter of a
dnke for nothing. And rolling in wealth as
yon are too I I think it is you who ought to
be ashamed of yourself. Yon would let your
poor mother scrape and save to defray th j
expenses of a marriaga that has given yon
luxuries that she baa never darempt of poa*
sessing.'
'It is so nnasuaI--so unheard-of a da>
mand, ' continued Regina. ' It is sending ma
like a beggar to his arm. You might hava
been contented to know that I shall be no
further expense to you, and at least have
sparpd me this.'
' Oh I if you are goiut; to make such a ri«
dioulous fuss over a trifle, my dear, I shall
take my depa^ ture. It is only five hun'.lred
pounds, and you have an many thousaikds,
However, let us say no more about it I I
ought to have been prepared to meet with
insult and ingratitude at your hands I '
'I would rather have been married in a
print dress than have been subjected to this
humiliation,' repeated her daughter.
' Oh yes 1 that is all very fine in theory,
but it would have looked well in practice,
would it not, for the granddaughter of Lord
Mudford to have .had a trousseau like a
housemaid T However, we are not likely to
agree upon the subject, Regina, and there-
fore I shall leave you to think it over by
yourself.'
Vivian, however, could not allow the mat*
ter to rest there, and before long a cheque
for the amount due found its way from his
hands to those of his mother-in law, and
he often thought afterwards that the es-
trangement which the transaction made be*
tween the mother and daughter had been
cheaply paid to.?.
Lady William Nett\eship, when we meet
her two years and a half afterwards, had not
entirely given up calling at Regina's house ;
but she went there so seldom that they were
very little troubled by her company. She
had quite relinquished the undesirable habit
of popping in at all times, whether they had
friends or were alone ; neither did she
intrigue to procure invitotions to the houses
at which they visited, where she might
glorify their relationship by expatiatins on
the attractions and virtues of her daughter
and son*in-iaw to all who would listen to her.
On the contrary, she kept rarely closely to
the villa in Kensington, where ahe and Mrs.
Runnymede entertained all sorts of people-
good, bad and indifferent^ any one in fact
who would accept their hospitality on their
n^n conditions, or were too ignorant of the
repntetion in which their parties were held
to be prudent enough to refuse it. Several
of the oldest mixed with them still, attracted
by Lady William's title or Mrs. Runnymeda'a
excellent housekeeping, and amongst them
were the Maodoagal of Maodougal, Mr, and
Mrs. Stingo, and Selina Farthingale.
It is easy to sea what drew these people
THE ROOT OV ALL EVIL.
7t
trail yon
t of poa-
of ft de-
DdiBgma
iht have
U be no
Mt haro
loh a ii«
, I abaU
I hnn^lred
toaiaiida,
b iti I
leet with
■ I '
ried in •
id to this
•
t theory,
practice,
r of Lord
u like •
likely to
id there*
t over by
' the mat*
a oh«qae
from hia
law, and
t theea-
made be*
tad been
we meet
I, had not
house ;
hey were
oy. She
lie habit
ley had
did she
bonnes
might
Aina on
iaugbter
in to her.
lely to
>nd Mrs.
ipla—
in faol
m their
It of the
•re held
Several
iraoted
edo'a
it them
r, and
peopla
thitkar. The Maodongal, Uke Lady William
herself, had ever been famous for oondesoand-
ing to eat a dinner or a supper anywhere, so
long aa she had not to piay for it The
Stingoea, who were still strumling to attain
a position superior to their mrth and still
failing to attain it, could oot afford to drop
the aoqnaintanoeship of one title, hcwever
imall ; and Miss Farthingale, whose home
at this present moment was more lonely and
dull than it had ever been before, was eager
to preserve a footing in any house which
entertained male visitors. And thoi»h the
gentlemen who frequented Mrs. Runny-
mede's card- parties were not as a rule the
youngest or gayest of their sex, there was
no knoiving where a stray son or nephew
might be induced to accompany them, nor
what chances of a settlement might not be
lost by non-fcttendanoe.
It was in March, therefore, more than
two years after Regina's wedding, that a
little group of ladies were gathered in the
drawing* room of the Kensington villa, anx-
iously awaiting the advent of the men, who
oame not.
The weather v^s bitterly cold, and Lady
William looked blue even through her rouge,
aa she drew nearer to the hre and held
Selioa Farthingale's hand between her own,
for the sake of the warmth she derived
from it.
* I am afraid we shall have no party to-
night, Runnymede I' she remarked to the
other partner in the firm. ■ Selina ipiys it is
snowing fast, and she had the fereiilat diffi-
enlty in getting a cab:'
' It must be inches thick already, Mrs.
Runnymede,' chimed in Selina, 'and it's
freezing into the bargain. I wouldn't have
stirred from home myself for anybody but
you and dear Lady William.'
* Well, my dear, if the men don't come,
we must do without them, and have a rubber
by ourselves. There are five of us, you see,
with Mrs. Macdou^al and Mrs. Stingo, so
we shall manage nioely. But we won't give
S'lve them up just yet. I should think
eneral Playlair and Sir Cunningham Morse
were sure to come. And what about your
papa, Selina ? ' said Mrs. Runnymede, who
was already viry watery about the eyes,
though it was but eight o'clock in the even-
'Oh I I Lnow nothing of papa,' exclaimed
Miss Farthingale, tossing her head. * I see
less of aim every day I live. He's got some
friends of his own, I suppose , any wi^ he
tells me nothing about them, though I be-
lieve he spends half his time there ! '
' ^hata pity 1 Such a clever man too,
and so faaoinating I Just the person oalou-
latad to make a happy home. And than to
throw himaolf away upon strangers. It
must make you very uneasy, dear.'
' I don't trouble myself much about the
matter. I think papa is a very overrated
man. He may be smart in his profession,
but he give* me very little of his cleverness
at borne,' retorted Selina, who retune'l
a vivid impression of what ' papa ' had ef-
fected by meddling in her matrimonial
afiEairs.
' Have you been to Premier Street ?
nquired Lady William ; Premier Street
being one of those fashionable throrough*
fares that intersect Portland Place and the
looality in which Vivian Chasemore had s^'t-
tied down with his wife.
' No. Have they returned home yet ? '
' Yes ! nearly a week ago 1 Regina says
she was so tired of Nice, but she had better
have stayed a little longer. She feels the
cold bitterly here.'
' She must indeed t How is she in
health?'
' I think her looking delicate, but vou
know Regina's way t She will never allow
that she is ill. And Mr. Chasemore seems
perfectly easy about her.'
' Ah ! that a not saying much. Husbands
usually are ! '
'I was there this aftemo^n.' continued
Lady William, ' but I did no stay long, as
they were in such coafusioi . A number of
oases had just come up from the Custom-
house, filled with curiosities that Mr. Chase-
more has brought froin abroad. He seems to
be very extravagantly inclined. And then,
who should arrive in the middle of it all but
his cousin Sir Arthur ! '
' Sir Arthur 1 ' repeated Selina, with a
start
' Yes : the first time they have seen him
for a twelvemonth. He has been to Madeira
and the Cape and Algiers, and Heaven
knows where beside. I thought there was
never much love lost between the cousins
since my daughter refused the baronet, but
they seemed quite pleased to meet. And
Sir' Arthur is to be their guest, I understand
until his chambers are vacant a^ain.'
Seliua Farthingale became quite fluttered.
She had long since ceased to mourn over the
baronet's delinquency, for three years is a
severe trial of constancy for a fancy bhat was
never founded upon faith ; but the remem •
branoe of his rejeetion of her proffered hand
had still thoMfWer te sting her, and if she
retained one'It'-r>n(; feeling in respect to him
it was the desire to be revenged for his in-
difference.
fjfi ' Sir Arthur staying in Premier Street ! '
she observed in ja voice that trembled, spite
^H
t
I
III
m
74
TBI ROOT OF ALL EYIU
r
Mn.
An
of all har |Mica to pravMil it. *OoiMtolook
•(tor his proporty, I ntppooo, and to mo thot
it ioproparly oarod for/
' His proporty, door 1 What do yon i
* Why, it wUi bo kif, won't it, if
VirioD ChMomoro has no ohildron?
thoro any proapeoto, Lady William ?*
' Not y ot, 1 am sorry to say. < H cnnrso I
did not uko to manticn so delioato a snbjoct,
lN\t I fanoy that my daughter's mind has a
gTMt deal to do wiUi her health. She frets
and fidgets, you know, and naturally too, for
I can see that Mr. Chasomure is bi^nnning
to foel fidgety also.'
'That's the woistof entailed property,
isn't it r remarked Miss Farthingale. ' It's
a great comfort to have it m one's own hands,
as papa has his. Poor Regina I I'm snre 1
hope to goodness her wia' will be roalinet?
if only to keep Sir Arthbi out ot the mone>,
He's so grasping and jealous, it would just
serve him right 1'
' Ah, my dear, we must make allowances
for him ; it's only natural the poor younit
man should feel his position. "His cousin
has out him out in everything I You used to
speak much more kinoUy of Sir Arthur iu
olden days, if I remember rightly.'
' Used I ? Than it was" more than he
deserved, for he behaved very badly to papa
not long afterwards.'
' Behaved badly to your papa, did he T I
wonder if that had anything to do with his
leaving England? He didn't wait, you
know, till the Vivian Chasemores had re-
turned from their honeymoon. By the way,
what has beeome of that sly4ookint( girl
thst was livin/i; with you at the time — Miss
Oppenhoim ?'
' Oh ! the ungrateful minx ! Papa sot her
a most desirable home with a friend of ours,
and went to a great deal of expense to settle
her thero; and she has never written us a line
of thanks since her departure. Isn't it
mean ? I hate insratitude. It makes one
think so !>corly of nnman nature,'
' Ah, it does indeed I ' responded Lady
William, with a sigh dedicated to the remem*
brance of her daughter. ' But you intend
to call on Regina, I suppose ? I am sure
she will be deliahted to see you. She is
Tory^ lonely, you Know. He is so much away
at his club and societies.'
' Of course I shall call ! Though she must
have everything money can procure to amuse
and distract her.'
' You are right there, my dear I And she
loves it too well— a great deal too well t
She showed me a set of furs to-day that
must have coet her several hundred pounJls 1
And I am wearing my old cloak fcr the
Ihir^ wintor. Snoh inoongmities as thoro
/MTo in this world i '
* W'jat oan yo want mair, Leddy Wool*
liam ? ' intorpMod the oraokod voice M the
Maodongal, who uunally sported an old
Scotoh woollen shawl that had aeon the
wear of ten winters : ' it's a varra gudo
oloak that ye wear, and must have ooat a
pretty bawbee in its day. Tho world soona
to me to go daft nf tor cfothaa that are made
to be thrown away before they show tho
least seogn of ago.'
' Ah, Mrs. Maodongal, it is not everybody
that oan afford tc dress as plainly as yon do.
No one needs to be told who Mrs. Maodon-
gal is.'
' You're rioht thvre, my leddy. A Mao-
dougf >f M*'" ug* couldn't <'.rap his clans-
biep i. n)Vv. ./ ' ^ wn Re£,«.nt-stree in a
sack. •?'« (V,: Wn^d we think of -not the
silks ui. \ ') Still, a' that doeana amend
your da :,! ■ ir gratitude. She might
weel share seme c r bawbees with yo,
for ye're not over-reect., as we all know.'
* Fray let us drop the su bjeot I 1 1 is a very
painful one,' returned L%dy William Nettle-
ship ; and, indeed, at that moment the en-
trance of a roan who had braved the weather-^
tnme<l all the ladies' thoughts in a pleasant*
er direction.
Miss Farthingale took an early opportn-
nitv to call in Premier Street, for she longed
to let him see how little she cared for tho
circumstance that had separated them. _ As
she came in sight of the door of Regina's
house, she j^roeived that the step was al-
ready occupied by a /isitor — a lady like her-
self— to whom the door was opened as she
gained the spot. Sehna stood on the lower
step, and listened to the colloquy tnat en-
sued between the man eervant and the
stranger.
' Is Mrs. Vivian Chasemore at home ? '
' No, madam I ' she is not. '
' Oh, indeed 1 I' am unfortunate. How
long has she been gone T ' **
' About half an hour.'
' Where has she gone to t '
' I do not know, madam.'
' Will she be at homo to-morrow
morning ? '
' That I cannot tell you.'
* Oh, very well I then I must take my
chance anothei time,' said the lady turning
away.
' Will you not leave your name, madam ?'
inonired the servant.
The stranger hesitated and coloured.
Then she said in a shuffling manner :
' No, it is not worth while 1 It is so long
since we met, I dare say Mrs. Vivian Chase-
more will have forgotten my name, day an
THE ROOT ur ALL ETIU
71
M th«r«
WmI-
Ml old
MB th«
m gvd*
r«00«t »
dMeiM
made
■e
low
erybody
you do.
MMdoa-
AMm-
\UM olana-
ree in •
-not the
i» Ainoad
B might
with ye,
, know.'
w»T«ry
n Nettle.
I the en*
» weather^
pleMHUii*
opporta>
ie longed
for the
lem. As
Regina'e
tp wesal*
Tike her-
M the
|the lower
boat en-
and the
me?'
How
•■morrow
take ay
ly taming
Imedam?'
I coloured.
I* *
Kb 80 long
lenChMe'
day an
old friend oeUed to lee her, and will odl
•gain in a day or two. That i« all : good-
mo; uing;' i'r\d the ladv. taming aharply
I'OQQd, oame foil in tIcw of SMina Far>
thingale at ahe deBcended the itepOb The
oonreraation Bh« had held Waa saoh an
Selina coald not help
some oarioaity. She waa
I e or fifty ywr* ■>£ age —
J. Raonymede, b\it much
ith an amoant o roage
on her f» b tha^ wbb
oogb her spotted 'eil.
-\Ibo, \.i altogether bore
trioioas ai >«araDc J that wae far from
ii or h jyliUe. Selina Fartb'ng^' mod*
Regina's
uoosaal oue tbat
regarding her wit
a woman of fort> ;
fall- blown, like i
handBomer, and
and ,>earl uo«de
lainly viBible
he bad d^ed hn
amer ' '
tak
Jered who l^ia
g
old fi.end' oi
might be, bat the footman was waiting for
her to speak before he cloead the door.
*I have j net heard yoa Bay tbat Mrs.
Chaaemore i(. not at home, ao I will leave my
card,' ehc «aid ; and shen, as nhe drew it from
her oard-oaae, adde<?, ' Can yoa tell me if
Mrs. Chaaemore intende to renew her Tuea.
day " At Home" thia aeaaon ?'
' I am not aare, mcdam ; bat I can enqaire
of her maid if you desire it. '
' Yea, I ahoald like to know, aa it makes
one aure of finding her at home.'
She pascci I^^o the hall aa ahe apoke, and
the man doaed i\9 door behind her.
' Will yoa at* |> thia way, madam ?' he said,
throwing open the door of a magnificent
drawing-room.
' No, thank yon I I will remain here.
Joat aak the qaeation for me, and give me
theanawer.'
The aervant demarred for a minnte, bat
finally rang an apataira bell, pjid left her in
Older to conaalt the ladv'a maid apoo the
landing. Selina slanoed roand the hall,
which waa li|(hted by atained glaaa and
ornamented with apecimena of heraldry and
the ataffed heada of animala. She waa
thinkiv how handaomely it waa fitted np,
when he' eye fell upon a finely carved oak
buffet that atood at the end of it, and on
which were laid five or aix lettera, ready for
their ownera to claim as they re-entered the
houae. Her quick eight detected the name
of Sir Arthur on one of them in a momont,
and with feminine ourioaity ahe oroaaed the
hall to examine the envelope. It waa
directed in a Bcratchy female hand, which ahe
immediately recogniaed aa that of Miat Janet
Opponheim. Tea, there it was, addreaaed in
full to
'SIR ARTHUR CHASEMORE. Babt..
Care of Yiviak CHAsiifOEi, Esq*,
3, Premier Street,
Portland Place. W.';
and with the poetmark of St. John'a Wood
in the ooraer. Selina'a eyea flashed with
indignation. The man had not been two
day 1 in England, and that artfal little ninz
had Hotnally foaod him oat and pounced
npNoa him. But Sir Arthur should not get
this lette'.v at all events t She was detet.
micsd of that. The footman was still
"whispering with the lady's-maid upon the
i.d!iding, thoajih even at that moment Selina
could ueteo'' the runtliog of skirts about to
descend thj stsiroase. Before they had
swept over a half dosen rods, however, the
letter was »afo in her pocket, and she was
standing demurely on the doormat where the
footman had left her, waiting for an answer
to her inquiry.
' Mrs. Chasemorc have not yet decided,
madam, I believe, on renewing her "At
'Omes," ' said the simpering lady's-maid," as
her 'ealth is not strong aa we could wish
for ; but if she makes up her mind, as ^' '^
■easoa advances, to 'ave them, the cards a
be sent out as usual to her friends.'
' Oh, thank you I Yes, of coune I "lat
is all I w'shed to know,' replied Mic . i^ *•
thingale, anxious to's;et oat of th' . m%
again before the man-servant should dev ■■■i
(if he ever would detect) the absence of we
nurloined lettet which she had secur 'uthn
depths of her pocket. But the a. vas
opened, and she regained the street in
safety.
CHAPTER VII.
•TOU HAVl A 80H TO INHKRIT, I
BKLIBVX.'
As Mrs. Vivian Chasemore's carriage, with
its handsome horses and well-appointed
servants, drove up to the door of the house
in Premier Street on that afternoon in
March, and, clad in the sables that had
excited her mother's envy, she languidly
descended from it, you would have thought
she had been used to such luxuries all her
life,and had become quite indifferent to their
possession. But that was very far from
being the case. It is true that she let the
ooetly velvet dress she wore trail up the
steps and through the ball, and that she
never even cast a glance towars the stands
of exotic flowers tbat filled the house with so
sweet a perfume, nor on the marble Mercury
that gracea the atairoaae, although it called
forth the rapturoua admiration of all her
frienda. Two yeara and a half had accus-
tomed her to the idea that '4II these Inxuriee
were hers by right, but shfi did not value the
poaition they placed her in the less, because
she had ceased to care for herself. Her
r!
Mi
76
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
BiAid WM waiting at the foot of the stairoMt
to relieve her of her oloak and fan, and then
Regiaa paiaed into the drawing room« where
the footnun followed her to lower the blindi
MDd li^ht the ffae. She found Viriar. sitting
thare in the dutk . not reading, bnt reolining
in an armchair by the Are, with hia eyea
fixed upon the fliokerina flame.
* Ho^ luv you look/ wae all that the re-
inarkfld,Aa abe threw herself into th« oppo-
site teat. 'I oaunoC imagine how people
oan waste their time when their is so
much to do in this world. Where's Sir
Arthur 7'
/Not knowing, oan'tsay I' yawned Vivian,
who did not appear in the least inclined to
defend himself against ner aoousation of lazi-
ness.
She turned from him with a gesture of im-
patience.
' Anybody called this afternoon, James?'
she inqeired of the servant.
* Miss Farthingale called, madam, and Mrs.
Dompier, and Colonel Payton, and a lady
who wouldn't leave her name.'
' Wouldn't leave her name I How very
strange I What was she like T'
' She was a stout ladv, madam, dressed in
black— with— with>-a fresh colour and light
yellowish sort of hair I'
At this description Vivian appeared to
rouse himself.
' I don't know her,' said Regina. ' I can't
think who it can have been. '
' She said I was to tell you an old friend
had called, madam, and that she would take
her ohanoe of finding you at home another
day.'
' Some begging petition, you may be sure,'
exclaimed Vivian. 'Did she walk lame,
James T'
' Well, sir, now you oome to speak of it, I
think the lady did limp a little as she went
down the steps. '
' I know the person ; a regular begging
impostor. If ever she presumes to call here
again, say you told Mrs. Chasemore of her
Tuit, and she forbade you to admit her. Do
you understand me ?'
' Yes, sir,' replied the servant, as he left
the room.
Regina did not like such a summary order
being given in her name. As soon as ever
the man had disappeared she attacked her
husband.
' I must say it is rather cool of you,
Vivian, deciding who shall and who shall
not be admitted to my presence, without the
slightest reference to me. How do you
know but what I wish to see this woman and
hear what she has to say for myself V
* I know nothing about it, Regina ; bnt I
am quite ear* I shall not allow you to do ao.
I recognise the person from the desoription,
and she is not one I wish yon to know.'
* This beoomes mysterions i Are you
afraid sha may be able to tall ma too
much ?'
' Not at all, my dear. You know that
befo e I married yon I unburdened my con«
science of all that it was necessary for yr n to
hear of my furmer life, and that since that
time I have been wholly and solely yonrs in
thought, word, and deeid.'
' Ah I so yon say I*
' Regina I' ejaculated Vivian, in a tone of
reproach ; ' have I ever deceived you ?*
' I really don't know t Some people say
that everything is fair in love and war. And
here we have not been in London a fortnight
before a mysterions female calls to see ma,
who won't leave her name, and whom yon
are evidently most anxious to prevent my
meeting.'
She spoke so coldly that Vivian felt
annoyed. He loved his wife verv dearlv
still, and her want of sympathy with
all he did and said was the sorrow of his
life.
' You are quite right, Regina,' he answered,
with a sigh, ' I am most anxious to prevent
your becoming acquainted with that person,
though not for the motive you ascribe to me.
I should hnve wished to keep both her name
and her existence a secret from you, as I do
not consider she is fit to be mentioned even in
your presence ; but, since you are so unV'.4t
I will tell you in self-defence that I feel
certain your mysterious visitor is no other
than my step-mother— my poor father's
widow. Now, are you satisfiea ?'
• With what V
' My determination to exclude her from
this house.'
' I really don't see why you should do so,'
replied Regina, as she played with the
st.ings on her bonnet.
' You don't see that I have good reasons
for forbidding you to make the acquaintance
of that woman, when I have told yon of her
depraved and vicious habits, and that it was
in consequence of her base conduct towards
myself that I ran away from my father's
house and went on the stage ? Regina t yon
are trying me too far. Remember that I do
not take a jest wiolL'
' Oh, you need not remind me of that,
Vivian. Every one knows how touchy you
can be when you are contradicted. Bnt if I
think a thing is wrong, I must^say so. It
will seem very ntraage to the world that
your father's widow is not admitted to your
house, and especially after the company yon
have been in the habit of keeping.'
THE ROOT OF ALL SVIL,
n
do 10.
iption,
•
e yon
me too
•w that
ny oon*
yfu to
loeihat
^oart ia
tonoof
if
iple MV
%x. Ana
Drtnight
see me,
Lom yoa
rent my
Un felt
ly with
)W of hie
aiwered,
) prevent
t peraon,
t)e to me.
jor name
i, M I (lo
Id even in
10 nn'''^t
I feel
10 other
father's
ler from
doio,'
Kth the
reeioni
itanoe
Ln of her
it it WM
ItowMrde
Ifftther*!
fon
do
If that,
Ihy you
It
Id that
your
ly you
' What oompany T ' rejoind
* Why aotors and aotretees and all the aorta
of low people you meet on the stage. You
oan ask a person like Mr. Selwyn to itay,
under the same roof with me, yet yon forbid
me to speak to year own father's wife.'
* Sverard Selwyn is a gentleman by birth
and breeding, and this woman is not a
gentlewoman. Even if she were, her de-
grading habits unfit her foi- the soeiety <tf
her own class. I am astonished at her im-
pudenoe in oalling here. Yon see that she
dared not leave her name, for fear it should
reach my ears. She knows what sort of a
reueption she would get from me. She
sough an interview with me, Regioa, before
we went abroad, and I told her then, as
plainly as I could speak, that she should
never cross the threshold of any house whiuh
held my wife. And I mean to itiok to my
word.'
' Well, I advise you not to tell any ooe
about it but mvself, Vivian. S«me wives
might be made suspicious by so much
oaution and begin to fancy there was more
than a stern sense of virtue behind it
alL'
' Are you euspicioui, Regina t '
' I ? ' with a careless laugh. ' No, in-
deed I I am not jealous of you, Vivian, if
you imagine that'
' I never thought it, my dear. You are
not fond enough of me to be jealous. But
you are very much disposed just now to be
rebellions. '
' Neither one nor the other ! What is
Mrs. GenerAl Chasemore to me? I think
only of what the world ^ill say.'
' I should think it ought to be quite
sufficient excuse to the world, that it was
2*hrough her double dealing that I was cast
upon it to make my way as I best could. '
'The less said about that the better, Vivian.
I wish you would never allude to the circum-
stanoe.'
'I know you have no sympathy for what I
went through.'
' It is hardly to be expected I should. If
you had chosen any decent and respectable
oalUng, it miithi be difierent ; but to think
that her husband has been a low, common
aotor cannot be very pleasant toany woman's
fedinga.'
'I was never low or common, Regina I
And at all events you didn't find me so
much so as to prevent your becoming my
wife.'
' I don't deny that you might have been
worae^ or that you have improved ainoe our
marriage. But you will allow that the stage
ii not 1^ calling for a man of your birth,'
Re|dna, as she gathered up hnr
and swept from the apartmoui.
looked after her and sighed.
She
had not ssid anything, perhaps, that waa
postivaly unkind or denant, but she had
uttered each sentence in a cold and indif*
ferent manner, which proved too plainly, at
least to his warm heart, that yearned for
sympathy and aflfection, that she had none
for him. Won by her beauty and grace, he
had fondly hoped that her mind and spirit
would prove equal to the charms of her
person, and for many mouth after their
marriage he had tried to impart life to the
statue he had purchased for fifty thousand
pounds. But when the first excitement at
her success was over, and Regina hsd had
time to settle down to the wonderful con-
viution that all the ills any annoyances of
poverty were pMt, and she was a rich woman,
her husband found to his dismay that she
grew less cordial and more self-absorbed
every day. Men cannot go on euthuaiasticeliy
embracing a piece of marble for ever. They
need rome small return in order to keep
their raptures alive. And Regioa was one of
those women who hate kissing, and say so
openly. Vivian's warm lips never got more
tiian a cheek presented to them, and under
any excess of ardour Regina was sure to
express impatience and dislike. So that,
little by 'tttle,the endearments which are the
very life of cjojugal love had died away, and
Mr. and Mrs. Vivian Chasemore were begin-
ning to live with each other (as so many
thousands of married wretches do) on terms
of amiable acquaintanceship. Sh^ went her
separate way, making her own friends,
enga^emeuts, and purchases, without the
slightest reference to her husband; whilst
Vivian, in like manner, having been too
often offended by returning to the house to
find his wife had left it, came home ur
stayed out as fahcy dictated to him, feeling
quite sure that no one would be made
auxious by his absence, or delay dinner ten
minutes in anticipation of his return.
Few quarrels had ever taken place between
them, for Regina was tuo elegant to use
strong language or strong actions, like that
poor unturtured little savage Bonnie Masters;
and Vivian,af ter a few loving reproaches that
entirely failed in their purpoee,was too proud
not to hide his disappointment in tbeir depths
of his heart. He still admired hi^ wife more
than any woman she had ever seen, and he
otill felt that the old passionate love needed
but a look on her part to remm in full force
upon him ; but he had ceased to give ezpres-
sion to either feeling. One mutual desire
alone possessed them, and* that they never
mentioned to each other : the ardent wish for
M
'AM.
\
^^irir^ffrr— "T■'ff|BEy■«^y-^f^^•
7S
THE BOOT or ALL IVIL.
, .^,. VivUn dMirad it froM • aaoh
par«r motiT* th«a bia wife did. H* thoaght
thai HMtaroity might d«v«lop all th« good
ffhioh bo foodljr boliovod to bo ktoat in
Rcgiaa'o oharaotor | that tlio poMOOoioa of a
ubild woaUi draw thoir hoarti togotbor in the
iiaorod link* of (athor aod mothor, aad givo
(bom ■onotbing to Uvo for and hopo for in
tho fatnro.
Rogina'a doiiro waa f'^nded on a loiror
basil. Shfl could not bolp romomboriog tb«
terms of Sir Porogrino CbaMmoro'a will, aod
tiiat, if Vivian died without an heir, the
whole of the propertv would paae to Sir
Arthur, and the wuulil be left peonileM aa
■he was before her marriage. Her husband
had wtsbml, und wished stilt, to persuade
her to live more withiu their inoume, in order
that he miglit lay by some of the interest to
form a fund for her possible widowhood ; bat
■he would not permit him to do so, and all
he had been abU to Mcooipliiih was to insure
hi< life heavily in her iMibalf. Young, strong,
and healthy, he probably thought little of the
ohanoe of death that lay before him, but she
never forgot it. Ni,<ht find day the question
was before her, ' What should she do were
she left widowed and obildless ?' and, as Lady
William ha'l shrew«lly observed, the intense
lougiog for an heir was h«viog the worst
effect upon her health and spirits. She re*
seoted her disappointment, also, bye peevish
and irritable manner towards her hosband,
who had had the very first advioe on her
condition, and carried her to Nioe and
various other places, in hopes of mailing her
stronger. Yet here they were back in
London again, with Regina as languid ai
ever, and no apparent chance of the ardently
wished-for baby. This little failure in her
matrimonial speculation made Mrs. Vivian
Cnasemore almost rude in her behaviour to
Sir Arthur. 8ho had never had more than
a passing fancy for that geutlenuu, founded
on his title and prospective tortnne, and
since her marriage with his cousin, their re*
lations had been so distant that she consid-
ered it a gross libertv on the baronet's part
to establish himself in their house on his re-
turn from Algiers, ai if it ware his natural
home.
She believed he had invited himself for
the sole motive of spying out ' how the land
Uy,' and she resented his presumption in
consequence. She was barely civil to him —
a mood on her part which seemed rather to
amnse Sir Arthur than to affront him, and
for which warm-hearted and hospitable
Vivian amply made up by the genuine wel-
come he accorded to his cousin. The family
party at this time was also increased bjr the
addition of Mr. Everard Selwyn, Vivian's
old fri«Ml, wlMm h« kad perawided lo taka
a koUday to kelp ki« gat «tw om oI tka
dolletl oMBlks ui LondoB. Tk« tkiM a«i
ware naenrj enoagk at tka dinoar tkal iM-
oeaded tk* eooverantion I knva related, a^d.
bafore tka seal waa aooelsdad, kad agnm
to apand the reat of the avaning aft tka
ftkaatra» for whiok Ragina kaard ftkam take
their dapartare aa ■ka mU in aolitarj atoto in
bar drawing-room, aippinffaoiip of ooflSit.
No loving kn^bano nui in for fiva misatoa to
Eva kar a farewell kiss and aaila bafora ka
ft ftka konaa witk kia fritnda. ViviMi
would have done it a year ago, baft Ragina
had ao often oalled him ' okildiak and silly '
for aakios for or giving raok a token of af*
feotion, tnat he had diaoonftinaad ftka praa-
tice. She felt a little lonely aa ftka kail-
door wna akaft anon them, baft eka ftriad
to peranada kerself ftbnt tha kouaa wa^ mmoh
pleaaantor and quietor witkoaft ftkair pre-
aenne.
Tken ska pondered awhiiO on ftbe aftrange-
neaa of Mra. General Ohasemore'a viait^ and
thought she should like to kaar wknft ftka
lady kad to say for kerself, and finally ska
rang the bell and deairad ftka footman to
send her maid to her. Mrs. Perkins ap-
psarad. She was a yonng woman of not
more than Regina's own agr ,wko had nevar
been Mrs. Perkins nor Mrs. Anybody Else,
but had adopted the matronly prefix to her
name because it made ftke * low meninla in
tkeaervanta' 'all,' aa ske denominated tkem,
' more mindful of ker position.'
' Perkins t' oommenoed Regina, ' did yon
see the lady who oalled this afternoon and
retnsed to leave her name T'
' No, ma'am, I didn't t Jamea he oalled
me down to speak with Miss Farthingale,
but the other Udy was gone by that time.'
* Mr. Chasemore gave James an order not
to admit her if she oomes again. He thinks
she is some begging letter-writer, who will
worry me for money. Gentlemen don't un-
derstand these things, you know. Baft I
wish to speak to her in oase she requires
relief, and when shs calls, if your master
should be out, see that she is shown ap to
my private room. Do yoa nnderstruid
mef
' Ob, yes, ma'am, certainly — if yon will
make it right with James, ma'am.'
' No I I don't want to be bothered witk
James. It is your business to "nuke it
right," as yon express it, with him. Yoa
have your orders, and all you have to do is
to obey them.'
'Yes, ma'am — certainly, ma'am. I: *Im
master should be out, you say 1' repeatiKi
Mrs. Perkins, rolling up her apron-
strings.
TBI BOOT 07 ALL IVIU
what the
ouOly aha
itnuui to
kins ftp*
A of not
iftd nevor
lody BlM.
ifix to hor
leniftli in
ted thorn,
did yon
Inoon and
beoftUod
bgalo,
Lt time.'
[order not
iethinki
who will
Idon't nn*
But I
roqttiree
mftster
rn up to
Ldentnnd
roa
iriU
red with
>nutke it
You
to do is
L- ♦!*«
jrepe&ted
apron*
•JmIioI IftkomMlerehoaldWMt, •
• I I doa't WMt him to bo kaoekiaf 99I
■pi— I this pofion whoB hehoe JtMt mm eko
is not to ho sdoiitted. Yo« sro growisf sl«*
pid, PorkiBS I Yo« will hsTs toMfrhtea ap
» llttK or 700 will oompel mo to nil yoar
plsoo with • more oooDpotsnt person. '
' Oh BO, SBo'Bai^ I hope Boi I slwsys do
■ly best to please yoa, ma'an, and I shovld
be very sorry Bot to give yoo satiaCaotloB. I
will see that yoar orders are attoBded to,
rna'aai,* esolaimed the obeeqaioes Perkins,
as shs ovrtseyed herssK oat of the room.
Bat not withoat a pang at being pledged
to deoeive the bright<eyed, gay-tenip«!red
neater I
Vivian was twios as popalar in the ser*
Tent's hall as his bsaatifnl wife. Bot a
mistrese.is paramoant in her own hooschold,
and every menial know* wbo holds the reins
of soverDment. In oonaequenoe therefore of
this stratagem, and in spite of Jamca's and
Parkin's fears, it was an Donnoed to Regina,
some fivr or six days afterwards, that the
ladv wno had refnsed to give her name had
sailed again, and was at that momsnt await-
ing her presenAO in the boadoir, where Mrs.
Vivian Cbasemore went with all haate to
greet her.
The bondoir wee a fanciful little room
whioh Vivian had fitted up with all sorts of
trsasurss for the reoeption of his bride, and
when Regina entered it on the f present oooa*
sion, she found the stout lady, who has been
already desoribed, busily employed in exam-
ining a rare bit of ohina through Her double
eyeglass.
'Mrs. Vivian Chasemore,! preenme t' said
the stranger, aw ihe turned at the openins of
the door and oonfrontcd Regina , and then
the latter peroeived that ehe bad a slight halt
in her walk, aa though one hip was weak or
had been injured. 'I must introduce
myself,' she continued, aa Reaioa bowed in
aoquieeeenoe to her remark ; ' though it seeme
hard, Mrs. Virian, that I diould have to do
so. I am Mrs. Chasemore, the widow of
the late Oeneral Obasemore, and your hus-
band's step<mother. But perhape yon have
never even been informed of my existenocif'
' Oh yee, I have 1 ' replied Regina, as >he
motioned her vieitor to a chair.
T^is louaed and dyed and whitened
woman waa the very last sort of pereon to
take her fancy or angage her intereet, and
Jet she had a cnrioeity to learn what brought
er there which would not be baulked.
' Indeed I I hardly thought that Vivian
would have had the grace to mention my
name to yon. Ah ! my dear, he baa not
been a good etep>soB to me, thoagh you may
not like to hear it, and his poor father was
reply toeneh an
MM by his going en the
aotMlly kwffkd iota hia gMva by his wi.
datlfBl eoMBolk
' I am vary sony,* faltarsd the wife, whm
hardly know what to 1
sation. 'Do yo«
stage, Mrs. Ohassaore ? '
'Tartly i And that was a sbookisg thing
for a BUB of hie birth aad edneatioa to do,
leaviBg saoh a home aa he had too, replete
with every comfort and Inxory, to walkiw in
the mire of social life I It was the General's
dsath-blow— positively and truly hie death*
Wow I'
' I quite agree with you that it was a
shocking thing,' said Regina, gravely. ' Ib*
deed, we never speak of it, the reminisoeooe
is so paiafaL*
* Ahl yon fssi it too 1 I thought yoa
would, reared in the refinement of aristo>
cratic sooietv ; but I suppose Vivian bsars
your animadvenione on the aubject better
than ha used to do mine. '
' I am afraid not. He haa still a sreal
hankering after hia stage friends, and will not
hear a word against them.'
'Well, it IS a mercy his grandfather'a
eocentrio will came in force to save him from
such a gulf. He is quite a brand plucked
from the burning. He will be more careful
in chooeing hie acouaintanoe now, it is to be
hoped, for your sake and that of bis family.
Yon have a son to inherit, I believe T'
' No, I have not,' replied R«gina, with a
deeper shade over her beautiful face.
'What a pity! and when every alley
swarms with dirty brats t However, let us
hcpe for the best I never had much love
for the new baroi;iet. A eelf> sufficient, con«
ceited, money-grasi>ing cad 1'
' Bard terms,' said Mrs. Vivian, smiling.
' Nothing could be too hard for 8ir Arthur
my dear, in my opinion, and I'd do a great
deal to strip him of his title. But we must
manage to keep him out ot the money. I'm
afraid it's entailei.'
•Yes.'
'Ah! so old Farthingale t«ld me. Itia
just like Sir Peregrine. He never could do
a kind thing without eome condition that
rendered it worthless. Does your husband
know that I'm here T* eontinuecl Mrs. Chase-
more euddenly, aa she turned round upon
Regina.
'To this queetion the other woman did not
know what to reply, and in her confusion
blurted out the truth.
' To be plain with you, he does not* He
was angry when he found out from the
lervant'e description that you had called last
week, and save orders you were not to be
admitted. But I thought you might have
something of consequence to say to me, and
'1
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL-
M I wntared priTttaly to ooanterauuid his
order. Sbill, I would rather Vitriaa did not
hear of your visit to-day.'
Mrs. Ghasemore fixed her eyes npon
Rsftina's iaoe and fpieiisad the truth u a
moment.
'&k>mefchin({ to say to you,' she rvpeatei,
with a barah laugh. ' I fancy I should find a
great many things to say to you, t!iat would
oonsiderably open your eyes, if we had time
to disouss the past. Ah I you'r' a sharp
girl, my deer, but you don't kn^w every-
thing yet. And so you don't get on too well
with Vivian, eh T '
' I did not say so, Mrs. Chasemore.'
' No, but you've let it out all the same.
Well, never mind ; you're not worse otf than
others. It's the usual fate of married
people. It you had been very happy toge-
ther, perhaps I should not have ventured to
int'.ude myself upon your presence. Yon
would have believed all he told you, and
the very worst of me '
' Indeed, Mrs. Chasemore '
' You needn't take trouble to deny it,
my dear. Llaster Vivian has not concealed
his rual opinion of me, even from myself.
I have the misfortune to know a great deal
more about his former life than he would
care to be repeat .'' to his wife, and there-
fore he hah l<een msst anxious to keep us
separate. There is no secret in the mutter.
He told me so, befor3 you went abroad, with
his own lips.'
' But I always understood that you and
he quarrelled so violently in his father's life-
time that it was the , cause of his going on
the dtage, Mrs. Chasemore.'
' That is what Vivian told you, is it T It
only proves how men will stoop to deceive
when they hava anything to gain by it. I
shall not attempt to deny the charge. I have
only called here foir the purpose of assurine
you that there is no enmity on my side, and
that if I am not admitted to your house
in common with other visitors, it is by your
husband's wishes, and not mine.'
'But it is unheard of.' said Regina, warmly,
' that his father's widow should d« excluded.
Beaeve me, Mrs. Chasemore, tha^ I have
had nothing to do with it, and I shall tell
Viv'iai my opinion on the matter as soon as
h« retnrnei home.'
' Pray do nothing of the sort. It will only
make things worse instead of butter. 1 never
go out m society now,for my health has been
very indifferent since the poor general died.
It itt a vary lonely oondii>>n to be a widow,
my dear, as I dare say your mamma has
ofteu told yon. But I thoughc i should like
to have a look ai yon, aud to assure you that,
if loanjeverbeof the slightest service to yott,I
shall ba deligeted.'
' Ton are very kind. But it would seem
strange to nuke use of a friend who has not
even admitted to mjr house. You had better
let a.^ rpeak to Vivian about it. I don't in
the least mind his beins sncry. '
* You will do no good. His enmity to me
is too deep-rooted, and some day yon will
know the osuse. Bnt if I might sometimes
"lee yon alone in tne dusk as now, and hear
how you are getting on together, it would
give me ^reat pleasure.'
' I will give my maid orders to bring you
up here whenever yon call. If you ask for
her, she will always let you know exactly
who is in the house and who is out of ic
But ^ am generally alone, when lam at home,
in the afternoons.
' I may hope, then, sometimes to see you.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Vivian, I wish yon would
remember that there are two sides to every
question, end that the rash act by which my
step-son cut himself off from his friends and
family reouires some very strong excuse to
render it justifiable.'
'Nothing could justify it,' cried Regina,
'audit is absurd to suppose that you can
have been the cause* I tell him so every
day, and yet he brings his horrid actor ao-
quaintances, that he knows I cannot bear
the sight of, to stay in the house, and sit
down at the same table with me.'
' From which his poor lather's widow is
excluded,' sighed Mrs. Chasemore. ' Ah !
well, my dear, he may yet live to know hir
true friends from his false ones.'
' I should like to have a good long talk
with you,' said Resina, as her visitor rose to
leave. ' When wiu you come again T '
* Well, I think, under the circumstances, I
had better not come unless you send for me.
Here is my card and address. Should you
be alone any day or evening, and would like
to have my company, I riiall be delighted to
bestow it on you.'
' 1 will let you know the first opportunity,
Mrs. Chasemcre. I long to hear all yon can
tell me. of Vivian's former life.'
' ' That would take a good many ev^sings I
am afraid, my dear,' replied Mrs. General
Chasemore, with an ominous shake of the
head, as she shook hands with Regina and
quitted the room.
CHAPTER Vin.
' TOO H* 71 KIUJU) THE BIST PART IK MB.'
It was late in the afternoon when Mrs.
General Chasemore left her step-son's house.
Mrs. Perkins, who wak sent downstairs ••
TUB BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
M
»yott,I
id ■Mm
haanot
I better
lon't in
f to me
on will
aetimee
ad hear
i would
ing you
I Mk for
exactly
at of ic
at home,
see you.
n would
to every
rhich my
ends and
xcuae to
i Refiina,
, yott can
so every
actor ac-
mot bear
), and ait
widow is
. • Ah !
know hit
long talk
at rote to
stanoea, I
d fi'r me.
oulA you
oald Uke
lighted to
irtnnity,
you can
|v«isloga I
Qeueral
Leof the
Igina and
IN MB.'
len Mra>
','■ houae.
itairaad
a^aai^oarier to aoe that the ooaat was elear,
aad order James to be in readiness to open
tha door, whispered to him pertly that ' the
master's ma ' was ready to j^ and he was to
' boodle her oat before any one saw her.'
The ooonpanto of iLe servants' hall had
liaessed the identity of the supposed ' begging
imposter' from the beginning, and from am-
iHgnons sentences dropped here and there,
had gathered pretty nearly the whole of her
hktwy, and the terms she was on with her
step>son, before she paid her seound visit to
the hoose. What a misteke it is to suppose
that we ean ever keep anythinft a secret from
oar senranto I The footman who stands be>
hind their chairs knows how often bis master
aad mistress have words together, as well as
they do themselves, and the maid that
brashes out her lady's hair has guessed
whither her affections are wandering before
her own heart has decided the question.
James stack his tongue in his cheek as
Perkitis delivered Regina's messacm to him,
and then stationed himself at the nall-door,
peeping throueh the side>panes of glass at
the enter world, after the fashion or London
footmen, whilst he awaited the advcat of
Mrs. Oeneral Ohasemore. In another minute
she had passed through the hall, and been let
oat of the house in apparent safety.
i| Bat fortune was against her. As she
reached the lowest step, Vivian, loumang
home frome his club earlier than usual, and on
foot, which he seldom did, turned from Port-
laud Place into Premier Street^ and recog-
nised her figure. His step-mother was near-
siffhted : she lost the opportunity, therefore,
of crossing the road and getting out of his
way, and the consequence was that they
almost ran into each other's arms. Mrs.
Chasemore would gladly hare passed him,
but Vivian would not let her do so. He
guessed the reason of her contiguity to his
residence, aad was boiling with pa<ision, even
as he raised his hat, with the same courtesy
with which he would have sAhated any other
lady ef his acquaintance.
'Mr*. Chasemore,' he said, as he stopped
in front of her, * I must requcHt a few words
with you before yon go any further >'
' God bless my soul I it's Vivian i' sho re-
plied, looking at him through her (glasses
with a braien air. ' Why, I thought you fins
I«ondon ^ntlemen never left your dubs till
it was time for your dinner i Whatever
brinn you hoscie at five o'clock ?'
'Good luck, perhaps, since I have run
against you. It is not the first time you
have been in the neighbourhuoil, Mrs.
Chasemore I I must request it will be the
lust.'
' Yoa request it indeed ! What next ?
Is the whole of Portland Place aad ita stt-
virons your property,that one must ask your
leave before placing your foot in it f
' You know what I mean well «Boa|^ I
Yon called at my house the olher day with
the intention of seeing mr wife. WeU» I
don't intend that you shall see my ww—
that is all !'
' Is the lady so submissive, then, fthol
your will is law to her V
' She will be submissive in this instaaoe^
because I will make her so.'
' Dear me I You seem to role the rooot
wi\.h a vengeance ! But take care you don't
go too far. Oar sex is apt to overienp a
strained authority.'
' My wife has no desire to overleap mine
— ^t fill events, in this instance. one has
been carefully brousht up, and is most par<
tioular in her own choice of aoquaintanoes.'
*Ah, I know your complimento of <dd,
Vivian ! But you have yet to prove that I
have been oallins upon on your carefully
brought-up wife. '
*I saw you descend the steps of my
house t'
' Perhaps I was inquiring for yon.'
M' You may save yourself the trouble for
the future. Once for all, Mrs. Chasemorsu
any servant of mine that admito you ahw
get his dismissaL I don't wish to repeal
what has so often been said between us be«
fore ; but, after your past conduct to my
father and myself, you shall never pass the
threshold of any hoAe of mine ! Do yea
understand me?'
' You make your meaning plain enough,
and with your usual politeness.'
' I don't want to be rude, but yon f or«s
me to be plain-spoken i Yon have already
compelled me to speak to my servanto mneh
more openly than I like to do njpon seeh
snbjecte, and to forbid them to allow you to
enter the house.'
' Oh, your servante are doubtless aa sab«
missive as your wife ! ' cried Mrs. Chaoe*
more,ironically.
A suspicion darted into Vivian's mind.
* Is it possible that you have been admit-
ted?' he asked inquisitively.
But Mrs. Chasemore perceived tiiat she
had gone too far.
' It is not possible that yon ean require to
'put auoh a question to me.' she neplied
' since yoa are so assured of the feaity of
your household.'
*I will find it out, howevw, before an*
oth?r hour is ever our heads ; and those who
have disobeyed my orders shall sn^ for it f
he said, as he strode away from her and en-
tered his home,
James aaaworod the door to him. E
i
ii
•5 fMt
fi
! ^1
t^^<>|
"»*•
■r*^'^.
M
THE BOOT OF AIX XVII*
at * glMM that hU mMtar wm raffled, and
dreaded what he might have heard. Vivian
deeired that he would follow him to the
library.
' Who has been here this af teraooa T ' !ie
demanded,. ia a determined tone of \oije» as
the door was olesed behind them. Tbe ser-
vant oommenoed to stammer. 'None of
vour shuffling I ' ezolaimed his master. ' You
know what I mean well enough. I gave
yon a strict order last week not tn admit a
oertaic person to my house, and I met her
inst now descending the steps. Has she
been here or no 1 '
James did not know what to answer. He
wished to screen his mistress ; but he was
not a liar by nature, and the beat manner in
which to shield her did not occur readily to
him.
' If you please, sir, I wish you'd ask Mrs.
Perkins about it.'
' I shall do DO such thing ! My orders
were given to you, and I demand an answer
to my question from you. Has that woman
been admitted to this house to-day 7 '
' ^eil, sir, it was entirely by Mrs. Per-
kins' order. It went altogether against me
to do it I '
' Mrs. Perkins' orders 1 ' thundered Vivian.
' Who is Mrs. Perkins, I should like to
know ? Is she the mistress of this house T
How dare yon try to screen yourself behind
Mrs. Perkins T'
' Well, sir, she brought her mistress's
onlers, of course, and h didn't know how to
go against them. I'm very •'orry if I've
die obeyed you, sir, but it's very hard for a
se'vant to know what to do, when two
puople puU different ways.'
'Two people pull different ways.' The
homely expression cut Vivian's heart like a
knife. He felt it to be so sure. But he was
too proud to let his servant guess how he
had wounded him.
' There's only one master in this house,
James, and as you dont seem to know the
fact, you'll have to learn it. Go and fetch
Perkins, and return here with her— at once 1
Do you hear t '
The footman, with a most crestfallen air,
left the room to find the lady's-maid. She
was in Regina's dressing-room, busy over
something that was required immediately,
and very unwilliag to leave it ; but when she
heard James's storv, she looked as grave as
he, and bundled her work to one side at
ence.
* Lor 1 you don't mean to tell me as the
master's found it out !' she exclaimed. 'Well,
there will be a flare-up and no mistake, fur
when them two get to loggerheads, they
don't seem to care what they say co one
Bat 'tain't our faalt, an j w§j. §a4
r's too good not to see that, if it^
another.
the master'i
onlv to put him in the proper light,'
But Mrs. Perkins was rather mistakM ia
her calonlations on Vivian's ' goodness.' Ha
was standing on the hearthrug wheo Um
servants re-entered the room, restlessly tap-
ping the floor with his foot ; whilst a dacp
spot of crimson burned ominously on either
cheek.
'Perkins,' he commenced^' by whoM
orders did yon tell James to admit the lady
who has been here this afternoon T '
' She wasn't here more than half an hour,
sir, I am sure, on the whole.'
' Will yon answer my question f said
Vivian, angrily. ' Who told yon to tail
James to admit her ?'
* My mistress, sir,' replied Pei*kiiis, whim-
pering ; ' and I'm sure it's very 'ard upon a
poor servant when she's bound to obey her
lady in all things, even if she do so against
the master, to tind as ^e's only blamed tot
her pains.'
' Did you understand that this woman was
to be admitted against my express order to
the contrary T'
' Of course you didl' interposed James^who
felt it would be a comfort to have a partner
in his guilt. ' We've talked it over^soorea of
times, and wondered at missus going against
the master tor such as her.'
' But 1 d dn't know ' begun the wo>
man.
^ * No more of this I' interrupted Vivian)
'' one of yuu is as bad as the other, and you
will both leave my service to-morrow morn-
ing.' At this abrupt intelligence the serv<aits
were aghMt.
' Leave your service, sir I they ezolaimad
simultaneously.
' Certainly ! The flrdt duty of a servant is
obedience, and you have both failed in it. I
will not keep you a day longer under mv
roof. The butler shall pay yon your month's
wages, and you will quit the house by twelve
o'clock. And I will treat any other servant
who dares to dispute my authority, Lever
mind at whose instigation, in the sam
manner.'
But wheo the two domestics had moura-
fully retired, Vivian felt that his anger was
not yet appeased. It had not been directed
against the right object. Perkins and James
might have failed in their allegiance to him-
self, but who, after all, was to blamu them,
when they had been instigated to re-
bellion by his own wife 7 He felt that he
must see Hegiaa, and he knew the interview
would be a tryiug one. His servants' dis-
obedience migbt make him angry, but his
wife's cut him to the soul. The dismissal
THE AOOT OF ALL XVIL.
•
•talMBiai
«M.' B»
rhen th«
9Mly Up*
6 • dMp
on eitlMr
>y whoM
the ladjr
i Ml hour,
ionf
oa to tdl
ins, whim*
MrdupoDft
(o obey her
■o againit
blamed tor
womtok WM
M order to
jMnee^who
re A partner
ier,«coreaof
oiug egainet
pui the wo*
od Viviaal
Bf, and yott
rrow mom*
■erVatata
exolaimed
la aervant u
ed ia it. I
under m^
»ar month ■
J by twelve
iher servant
>rity, Lever
the
mourn*
snger wai
ten directed
I »nd James
koe to him*
Jlamw thdm,
fted to re*
lit that he
lit interview
Irvanu' dii-
Ty, but his
disiaiual
of his whole household could not purify it,
whilst she held the reins of gevemroent and
guided it in an opposite direction from what
he desired her. He could wreak his ven*
Seance on his poor irresponsible menials, by
epriving them of a situation ; bat his besL
tiful wayward wife, whom he still loved so
much, and who was so essentially indifferent
to him, wha^i could he do to make her tract*
able and obedient? Nothing but love or
fear oau guide a woman, and Reijina knew
neither feeling. She was totally free from
all apprehension of difficulty or danger, and
seemed to think her position so secure, that
she could aftord to act just as she chose.
The position which, had she loved him, she
would have dreaded to lose her aovereieaty
over her husband's heart — was a matter which
she would have laughed to scorn had it been
presented to her. But she could feel anger,
deep and lasting, if any of her pet designs
were frustrated, and Vivian feared to raise
a tempest in her which he mi^ht find it diffi-
cult to quell. Yet his mind was so firmly
made up upon this subject of Mrs. (General
Chasemore ' he resolved at all costs to
speak. H'-j .vas still cogitating what he
should say to Regina, and how in a few
strong words he should make her uuderstand
that he would not be thwarted, when she
saved him the t/ouble of further deliberation,
by appearing in the library ready armed for
battle.
Mrs. Perkins had flown weeping to her
mistress, to communicate the sad result of
thttir joint duplicity , and the idea that
Vivian had dared to dismiss her private
attendant without her aanctioo, hr.d roused
Rettina to a fury. As she entered the room
and dlammed the door behind her, Vivian
thought he had never seen her look so hand-
some. An angry flush had mounted into
her usually colourless cheeks, aud her eyes
glowed with passion.
' What do you meau, Vivian,' she com-
menced loudly, 'by dismissing my maid
without my authority ? I never heard of
such a thing be-ore, aud I won't stand it*
Perkins is my servant, not yours , and I
refuse to allow her to leave this house on the
dismissal of any one but myself. '
Vivian had hoped to ar^ue the point with
his Mtife coolly ; but her insolent matter
irritated him, though the voice in which he
answered her was apparently calm.
' What you aliow, or do not allow, is not
of the slightest oousuqueaoe in this manner,
il»igina. The s>rvaats have dis^-beyed my
ordnra, and they will le:ive my P'tfrvioc, as 1
told thr^m ; anct after what Has pasued, you
should be glad, instead of sorry, to think that
they will h6 removed fiom your sight'
' And for what reason, pray ' she de*
manded.
' Because, if you thought rightly, itslumld
be a souroe of ooustaut humiliation to yoa to
keep under your eyes two people whom you
have stooped to make your companions in de-
ceiving me.'
* No such thing 1 J. laid my commands
upon, them, as you might have done^ and
they obeyed them. And if you procure {rwh
servants to-morrow, they shall not remain in
this house unless they obey what order I
choose to give them.'
'Then you must learn to make your orders
agree with mine. I confess that James and
Perkins are not nearly so much to blame a
you are, but you have brought these oonse*
quences upon their heads, and they must
bear the brunt of them.'
* If I am to blame, pray what do yon oon*
sider you should be, who shut your door^ in
the face of your own father's widow, josfc
because you are afraid of what she may diis*
close concerning you T '
' Is that one of lies that woman has al*
ready been pouring into your ears T ' cried
Vivian, roused by her manner to show liis
irritation as well as feel it.
' 1 don't believe it to be a lie I I might
have done so if you had not appeared so ver*
ribly afraid of my meeting your step*
motber ; but your very fear proclaims that
you have something to dread from her. '
* Take care what you say, Ke^a. Yoa
had better not go toe tar ! ' replieu ber hus-
band, with dosed teeth.
* Oh I you doii't suppose I am afraid of
speaking it to me. Thank goodness, my
antecedenu are at the service of anybody
who may feel an interest in them. '
' It would be very strange, considering
you area woman, if they were not.'
' 1 don't know that ! There are very few
women nowadays who can affc \ to have the
whole of their single lives laiu bare.'
'What extraordinary specimens of the sex
you must have been in the habit of atssuoiat*
ing wiih I '
' Perbaps I have ! More eztraordinaiy
than suuh as you made your companions
when you adopted that honourable profession
— the stage.'
' I often wish I had never left it,' said
Vivian, impatiently. ' The friends I made
there were at least honest. They didn't
collude with their inferiors in order to de-
CAive me.'
' Oh, that's a hit at me, of course ! So
gentlemanly aud delicate of you to turn
everything I si*y into a fresh reproach. It
shows what a good effect your early training
i as had upon you.'
m
K-M
.H
8t
TEIB BOOT OF ALL ITIL.!
< It hM had at leaat the cffaot of maUng
BM indepi^dent and dotermined to be the
nuMter in my own houe, and of my own
wife. And that yon appear atill to hare
to lean, Begina.'
* Aaeertion is no proof I Yon will havo
to prove yonnelf my master before I shall
aeknowle^ yon as suoh.'
* l>im't loroe me to prove it in any way
wliioh we may regret hereafter. Come,
B^ina, I have no wish to deal with yon
otherwise than gently in this matter i Only
give me yonr word of hononr that this woman
whom I know to be a most unfit associate
for yon, shall never again be admitted to
our honse, and I will say no more about it*'
' Indeed I I shall promise nothing of the
sort. On the contrary, I desire that yon
oonntermand the orders yon hkve laid npon
James and Perkins. It is a gross insnlt to
me, as the mistress of the honse, that tbey
should be dismissed because they have done
as I had told them to do.'
' Then you must put up with the insult.
Ton may be the mistress of the house, and I
hnve neve? disputed your authority until now ;'
but yon are not mistress of yourself, and it is
time you learned who is your master !'
' li^ master indeed I' cried Resina. ' I
would acknowledge no man as snon, even if
he were the king npon his throne !'
* You'll have to acknowledge me as suoh,
all the same,' returned Vivian coolly ; ' and
the sooq^r the better, for your own sake as
well as mine. I have let you have your way
too louK, and it is time you should submit to
my oootroL'
' Submit to your control Ishe echoed,scoru-
fnlly. ' Make me do it if you can I I defy
yon i'
He strode to her side, and grasped her by
thenrm.
* Don't mske me use brute force,' he said
in a low voice, as he looked her f nil in the
face.
Regina did not blench before him. She
stared at him back again, hard and unyield-
ing at brass.
^ Just what I should have expected of you,'
she saitl mockingly ; ' wrench my arm out of
the jookat, do I It would orL/ be on a piece
with the rest of your manly behavionr.
Brute ioTO'i indeed ! Why, it's the only sort
of force which you know how to exercise upon
a woman.'
' 1 am not likely to hurt you,' he returned
' but if y«u coBtiuue in this r t-*^te of rebellion
I ahall disgrace you, by Ir. '^riMi you up in
yonr own room until you ionte in your
senses. Once for all, Kegina, .• ^'u bt.
obeyed, acd it is useless your atteuij^Un^ ^o
oppose »e. I have never vvyf.-t'K'n v^'tb
any of yonr assoointes or pU Bures until now,
but here I am firm. Yon must proouao
me never to see Mrs. Oeneral OhasenuNre
again, or I shall take means to make yon oho*
dienk'
' Well then, I shsU not promise yon
Thcro I' Tivian's handsome face grew very
dark as he tightened his grasp npon her arm
with the intention of leading nor npatairs.
' Coward 1' she exolaimed in a f nry. ' Yon
are hurting me !'
At that word his hold relaxed, and he
let her go. But his anger was increased ton*
fold.
i No man has ever dared to call me by that
name,' he said.
' But a woman dares !' she retorted. ' Yon
are a double oownrd, first for trying to inti-
midnte me by yonr words, and then, finduu^
them fail, by your violence. But you will
learn that I am not to be treated in this way
with impunity. It. is all verp well when yon
have got me in the library with the door
shut, out well see whether you will like to
repeat jonr conduct in the presence of your
cousin Sir Arthur and your fiue actor friend
Mr. Selwyn.'
' I should not be ashamed to repeat what
I have said or done this hoir in the presence
of the whole world. I have not uttered a
falsehood as you have. Regina ! you know
that I am not a coward. During the years
that we have been married, and the many
unhappy differences that have taken place
between us, I have never treated you other-
wise than with justice and forbearance. Only
unsay those words. Tell me that you do not
really think me a coward, and I wiU do all
that lies in my power to make my wishes
coalesce with yours.'
But Regina saw that she had gained the
upper hand in tormenting, and with the
usual prettiness of her sex, would not forego
one iota of her triumph, although a proud
man stooped to sue for peace at her hands.
' I can't unsay them ! I think you have
proved yourself a thorough coward by the
way in which you have tried to domineer
over me to-day, and I despise you for it from
the bottom of my heart'
' Yon despise me ! (.ood God ! has it
come to this ? You will tell me next that
you do not love me.' *
* Is it to be supposed that I can, after th«i
brutal mnnner in which you have behaved
to me ? '
Vivian staggered backward. With all her
cool indifference, Regina had never nrone so
far as this.
* Why did you nuurry me if yen did not
love me ? ' he exolaimed,in a voice of anguish,
But the s'.^isk did not appeal to her
THB BOOT 07 ALL lYU^
M
kard hm*%. She felt oold and unyialdiag m
•ton*.
' HaftTWi knows I I am inra I don'l I
nippoae my mother hii4 raised the devil in
me, worse than nanal, on the day that yon
were eo nnluoky as to propose.'
' And you took me as the least nnplsaaant
altematiTe?'
She shroffged her shoulders.
' It may nave been so. We were horribly
poor yon know, and the prospeet of any
ohange must have appeared delifhtfnl to me
thca?
' Go on ! go on I ' exolaimed her hatband,
paroastioally ; ' tell me that von married me
ifor my money only, and linisn yonr tiendish
wo kat<mee.'
' Aeally, Yivian, to hear the pathetio man-
ner in which you put the qneation, one woold
imagine yon had never heard of snoh a
thing as a woman marrying for a settlement
before.'
He looked into her unsympathctio eyes
and seemed to read the tmth there, notwith*
standing the vagner.ess of her reply.
'Ood forgive von, Resina,' he said bitter*
ly ; ' yon have killed aU the best part in me
from to-dav.'
And with that hb turned away, leaving
her standing in the dusk-laden library alone,
and rushed out again, apparently not know-
ing or oaring whither, into the bleak 2darch
air.
CHAPTER VIL
*UnDmKD TOV
|HAD BBTTUl
DOCTOR.'
SBMD rOR A
At first Regina quite believed that he
would return to dinner. She heard the
vehement slam as the ball-door closed after
him, and she laughed quietly to herself, and
thought that his anger would soon evaporate
in the oool evening air. This was not the
irst quarrel that had marred the harmouy
«f their married life, though it was by far
the worst. And when their former dissen-
sions had taken place, Vivian had always
been the one to oomo round iirst, and try to
restore peao«« Hetween them. His loving
heart could not b<)ar the semblance of cold-
ness, and he was never happy until he had
forced her to confess that she was appeased.
It would be the same on this occasion, so
she thought — indeed, she rather prided her-
self that she had gone so far, and believed
it would do Vivian good, if be thongioit that
instead of having secured her affecion he
had still to win and deserve it. So, after
the Iirst shock of her hnaband's abi upt de-
parture was over, she went upstudrs very
complacently to dress for dinner. Th«y
expected a few friends to join them thai
evening, and Regina imagined that a littla
extra attention to her toilet w>nld have a
benefieial eft ot upon Vivian's leeiings.
So she ordered the subdued and tearfal Per*
kina to rob« her in one of the mo**^ becoming
drsssss — a oream-colonred satin, whioh dis-
played every line of her figure to perfeotioii,
and in which she had alreatiy eallwl forth h«r
hnsband'a warmest admiration. Her golden
hair was bound round her head with string*
of pearls, and t,he same ornaments (crsoed her
boeom and her arms. As she stood before the
glass, preparatory to desoending to tho draw-
ing-room, she lo<»ked as pure and palo as a
tinted statue. She did nut presume so ftf aa
to promise a re installation in office to the
weeping lady's maid.but she threw out strong
hints tl* kt it was not an impoesibility, which
made ^rs. Perkins later in the evening
confide her suspicions to James, that * the
mistress must nave got the better of the
master thia time,' at whioh oonitictnre the
delinquents rt- joioed touether. But before
long their hopee waxed fainter. Amongst
the friends whom Kegina ha I invited to
dinner that evening were the Farthingales,
whom both Sir Arthur and Vivian desired
to meet after their absence from England.
The little lawyer and his daughter, tosetber
with two or three other Ruesta, and the
gentlemen who were staying in the house,
assembled in the draw'ng-ronm not lon|} after
Kegina entered it, and before the diuner-
hour arrived, their party with the exception
of Vivian were complete. Natnrally,i;jquiries
began to be made after the master of the
houflo, and James was sent on more than one
fruitless errand to his dressing-room to see if
be had come in. AU kinds of notions were
started to account for his absenee ; only Mr.
Everard Svlwyu, to whom Regina had an
iistinotive aversion appeared to guess the
true state of the case.
' I thoutjht 1 heard Chasemore and yon
talking in the library, Mrs. Chasemore,
about an hour ago ! ' he said with a snspioious
look at bis hostess.
' I have no d«ubt yon did ! Vivian had jus-
come in from bis club.and was detailing some
of the servants' deliiiquenoies to me in so d ^
raatic a macnev that I told him he would >e
heard down in ti:^ kitchen. But he acquired
that horrid habit of taikins load, I suppose,
upon the stage, aid I am afraid he will never
drop it.'
' It must be awkward sometimes 1' said
Selwyn, dryly
' now much longer are we to wait for
him V iiif uired Sir Arthur, with the freedom
of a relaijon, aa he cousuited his watch. ' It
8S
THV ROOT OF ALL BYIL.
i» nmrXy Imlf-pMt eight, and th« entreM will
ba ipoilad,- m well m the oook'i temper.
*Mot forgetting year own !' rej< lined Re>
gia«. * We will not risk it, Hit Arthur.
!biniMr iIiaU be serve 1 at onoe.' And ebe
gave the necessary orders to the Mrvants.
It will be remembered that when he had
hoped to make her his wife, Sir Arthur
Ohasemore had verv sincerley admired Re«
Jina Nettleship. That admiration had not
ied out, notwithstanding the severe blow his
vanity had received at her hands — notwith-
■tanding also that R^igina invariably snnbbed
lun, for an undue love of admiration was not
one of her particular sins. She was too
much used to it, perhaps, to overrate its
Taloe ; and at the same time she regarded
the baronet with peculiar aversion on account
•f his being the heir to her husband's pro-
perty. And Seliua Farthingale, who had
quite recovered any personal wound she may
have received by Sir Arthur's openly avowed
distaste to her, yet could not watch his
evident appreciaticn of the appearance of
Regiua, in her cream coloured satin dress,
withoet a pang of jealousy — a feeling which
one can scarcely reconcile with her keen
deeire to be revenged upon the barcet. But
women's hearts are the strange %t contradic-
tions, and the most unlikely feeJings to grow
together lie coiled there like a nest of snakes.
Ton may be sure that Selina had not carried
i^way hliss Janet Oppenheim's letter from
the hall tai«!e without reading it, and she
triumphed inwardly and maliciously as she
sat in Regina's drawing-room and remem-
bered that it had n^iver reached the hands
for which it was intended. Its contents had
somewhat startled her, for by them she
learned that the pnpil-tevsher at Clarence
Lodge and Sir Arthur Ohasemore had been
corresponding freely during the whole period
of his wanderings abroad, and looked f rward
to meeting on his return as uatnr^Jy as
though they had been the oLiest of friends.
Selina had not yet decided on her line of
action in the matter -whether she should
openly inform Miss Netbnrwood of the un-
seemly intimacy her teacher was secretly
carrying on,or bide her time and work in the
dark, as so m.itny of her dear sex delight to
do. Her anger at the discovery she had
made was due more to the belief that Sir
Arthur had informed Janet of the interview
that bad passed between Mr. Farthingale
and himself than to any fear that Miss Op-
penheim was ambitious to usurp the p'.aoe
■he had coveted. That wm too ridiculous
an idea to find harbour ia her mind for a
ringle moment. This was the fir«it occasion
on which the Farthingales am' Sir Arthur
Ohasemore Had met since his return home.
and their mutual greetinn (although the
little lawyer still managed the money affairs
of boiih nousins) were rather constrained.
The baronet could not forget that the hard
terras on vhich Mr. Farthingale advanced
him five hundred pounds had compelled him
to throw up his profession for while, and
leave England ; whilst tbe lawyer, on hi*
part, keenly remembered the oool disdain
with which his own proposals on a certain
memorable occasion had Iteen rejected by the
impoverished barunet. Tt was consequently
Sir Arthur's role to appear m 'debonnair' an
unembarrassed as possible, which he did by
talking freely of the delightful sojourn he
had made abroad, and the collection of pretty
things which he had brought back with
him.
' I have a set of carved coral from Algiers,
that is a ;ierfect marvel for beauty of work-
manship,' he said, as the party sat round
the dinner table. ' I purchased it for a little
friend of mine who is very fair — as fair as
yourself, Regiua, and I expect it will create
quite a sensation when she appears in it.'
'You have never shown it to me,' re-
marked Begina, languidly. Something like
fear had sprung up in her breast at Vivian's
prolonged absence. Did he really mean
what he had said this time t
' Because I have not yet unpacked them,' .
replied Sir Arthur ; ' but 1 am sure yon will
say they skve unique. I want Vivian to see
them before they go away. He thinks so
much of those coral cameos he got in Rome
last year. '
' And who is your '< little friend " ? ' said
Regina.
' Ah ! come, that's not fair i but I can
assure you that she is worthy of the
corals '
' Or, at any rate, you may be certain she
will not reject them 1' laughed Selina
sourly.
She wondered if that minx Janet Oppen-
heim was to be the recipient of these priceless
ornaments ; but no ! it wae too incredible.
What should a pupil-teacher at Olarence
Lodge do with carved corals T
The general conversation went on briskly ;
but Regiua was almost Rilent,so was Everard
Selwyn. The bleak March day had ended
in a wet night, and the heavy rain might be
heard splashing against the window-panes.
But the wife's heart was not anxious for the
safety or well being of her ab"t;aL husband.
All she feai-ed was what the present com'-
pany mighc think of his non-appearance at
his own table. It was so low and vulgar to
quarrel openly. She could not bear that
they should guess that she and Vivian ever
stooped to such a thing.
TTiB ROOT OF ALL KVn*
81
igh the
r attain
(rained.
M hard
ivanoad
led him
ile, and
, on his
disdain
certain
d by the
iqaently
Hair' an
did by
|oam he
>f pretty
sk with
Algiers,
of work*
t round
or a little
I fair as
ill create
in it.'
me/ ro-
bing like
Vivian's
lly mean
ed them/
yon will
to see
thinks so
in Rome
"f said
It I
of
can
the
in she
Selina
|t Oppen-
1 priceless
joredible.
lOlarenoe
[briskly ;
' Uverard
ended
iif(ht be
r-panes.
for the
laaband.
it oum*
hnoe at
lal^ar to
w that
ever
Sir Arthur was still disoonrsing ewerly
abont the countries he he had risited aad the
treasores he had collected, when she gave
the signal for her own sex to retire to the
drawiog-tx>om. There were two other ladies
present beside Selina, and as soon as they
were alone thiy naturally fell intd pairs.
Miss Farthingale clung to her hoeiess, and
opmed warfare with a tirade of compliments.
Sha had ncTcr s«9n Regina looking so well
or so young or so handsome in her life be>
fore. It wss a great object with Selina just
■ow to get on intim«te terms in Premier-
•iMei, and she could think of no better
■eans ^or laying the foundation of a renewed
intimacy.
Mrs. YiTian Obasemore received all her
iattanf as though it were her due. Sae had
nc^er u *ne more than patroaise Selina Far.
thingale in her maiden days, and she was
searMly likely to go further now. Bat like
many another self-elected planet, nhe loved
to have her ring of satellitea revolvintt round
her. And Selina and she had one feeling in
oommon, intuitively felt, although, as yet,
unexpressed — eheir mutual dislike of Sir
Arthur.
* I trust you are not fooling too anxious,
dear Mrs. Chasemore ! ' exclaimed Selina, in
reference to Vivian * He may have met
with some frieuds, and been detained. Still,
it is very curious — is it not T '
' Very much so. I do not imagine that
any harm can have come to Mr. Chasemore ;
bat 1 a^a astonished that he should have for-
^tten we expected friends this evening. He
" scaroely forgive himself when he remem*
lit.'
.it this moment, James, handing r^und the
eoft'ee, whispered to his mistress that Mr.
Selikyn was anxious to speak to her for a
moment ; and, with an ap<>io(;y to her guests,
she left the room. She f«>aiid the 4otor wait-
ing outnide the roi-m, leanio(( against the
marble Mercury.
'I boK your pardon for interraptins ynu,
Mrs. Chasemore! but I eannot feel happy
until I have heard something of Vivian.
Hare vou any idea in whioh direction he has
goner
R^na's lip curled with disdain. What
right nad this vulgar professional to interfere
in her private affairs ?
'Really, Mr. Selwyn, I cannot see what
difference it would make if I did !'
* Because I mean to follow him, and brini;
him home again. See what a night it is ! Is
it fit weather for Vivian to be out in his
excited condition ?'
' Mr. Chasemore is not a child, Mr. Selwyn.
He is perfectly able to look after bimneff,
and I cannot see that his unpardonable
ss:
absenoe oalls for interference on our part.
He is not easily reasoned into adopting any
couree that is against his own wishes.'
* Don't you think so t' said Everard Sel-
wyn, sorrowfully. 'We always considered
him so very open to conviction or affection. '
The ' wd' grated on Regina's ear.
'Perhaps he has dropped his pliability
with the rest of the good manners you taught
I him,' she answered, haoshtily. ' However,!
have not the least idea where he is at present,
and I advise yon not to trouble yourself upon
the matter either. '
' I cannot promise that i I must go round
to his dubs, and the plaoee where I think it
most likely to find him, and try and persuade
him to hear reason. I am quite aware that
he was venr angry when he left the house.
I suppose I may say that you are anxious to
see him — may I not, Mrs. Chasemore ?'
' Indeed, I beg yon will do nothing of the
kind !' she answered hastily. 'It would be
as untrue as it would be useless. As far aa
I am concerned, the longer he stays away the
better !'
She returned to the drawing-room as she
spoke.and Everard Selwyn, with a sad hearty
left the house.
He was very much attached to Vivian.
He knew what a sterling sood nature he had,
and what a iash undisciplined tem*' i - and
would never have been surprised t; i • .--t of
any act of folly he had committeo. whilst
under the influence of such a misunderstand-
ing ac Selwyn felt sure had taken place be-
tween him and his wife. He ran from haunt
to haunt, seeking his friend everywhere, but
without success ; and at twelve o'clock he
came back in the pouring rain, hoping to
hear f-<hat Vivia . hsd already retumea. 6nt
the household had heard nothing uf its mas*
ter.
Regina had just dismissed her guests and
taken her way upstairs, and Sir Arthur was
smoking cosily in the room set apart for the '
charms of tobacco, and laughed at Selwyn .
for having been such a fool as to leave a
warm tire and a good bottle of wiae, to run
about London on a wild-goose chase after a
harum-scarum fellow like his cousin.
Ue and my lady have ha-l a tiff,' he said,
as he Welcomed Everard back. ' That fact
18 as plain as a pikeataff ; though I can't see
why Vivian should make <iuch a fuss about it.
It's an every-day occurrence in married life
— at least, HO I've always beard — and nothing
when yon're used to it. And if Mrs. Re<
giua's eyes tell true tales, it's not the first
tioae by a good maoy she's combed his hair
for him with » three legged stool ! Sit down,
Everard, my boy, aoH help yuur8elf,and let's
drink to a loag baeaeiorhood, and every-
THB BOOT OF ALL BVIL.
body*! wife bat oar own I Woll make m
Bight of it, if yoa Uk«^ Mid ait ap antil yoor
{irooioas friood chooflM to oome •gain;
hoagh I matt My I think bis oigara »d(1
bis wteiskev wn better worth oonuderation
hnnhinuNuf.'
Bat Sir Arthar nnd Bvemrd Selwyn snrew
tired even of anoh good compaiiy before
YiTian renamed. They eat np together,
ohntting and conjeotariug, until the dock
8traok three, aod then they etretohed them*
aelvee and retired to bed.
Begina hoMrd them paM her door ae the
■at in her dressing room, trying to beguile
the time with a book. She was beginning to
feel really nerrous now — nervous lest some-
thing should have happeued to her husbaod.
She oould not forget that in th*t case she
was utterly unprovided for. No more oream-
ooioured satin drosses then, <nor strings of
poKrls. They would have become thiuga of
tike past, and she would be luoky if she ooo-
trived to keep olothes upon her baok with
the miserable pittance Vivian's life assur-
ance money would provide her. Sue almost
oried as she remembered it : she pitied her-
self so muoh for what she might be called
q^n to undergo.
Why didn't she have a child, she thought,
like other people ? Sulina Fiu-tliiugale nau
been telliug her ot the marriage of that
hideous little fri^St. Mary Martin, who had
one shuuld'^r nri v: .'.'gber than the other,
andiiCT she was now the mother of a
splendid boy. Regina belivv -i tbut Seliua
had only related the circumstance to make
her feel jealous, and she would have liked to
have buxed her eats fur it. But it waa the
asual thing. She knew several girls who
had * comf* >ut ' the same year as herself, and
were now the proprietors of three and four
ehildren— quite large families, and who com-
plained every time she met them Of the
nuisance it was to have so many little
And all she wanted was one — only one !
but she was almost tired of wiabiug fur ic
When Regina considered how much de-
pended on the advent of that one child, she
was disposed to blame Providence very
freely for withholding tbe gift. It was not
the lack of maternity that disappointed her :
it was the lack of an heir to stand between
her and the haunting dread of poverty.
Four o'clock, five o'clock sounded, and
Vivian had not yet returned She concluded,
then, that he must have gone to the house of
some friend fur the night, and it was of no
use sitting up for him any longer. At any
rate, she thought, as she laid her weary head
upon her pillow, if tbe worst had happeued,
she could make it no better by tiring herself
to death. Yet the first question she askod,
on awaking the next moruing, was if any
news had Men heard of Mr. Chaaen«re.
Mrs. Perkins answered dejeotadly in the n^
Sfttive ; for the bntler had informed her that
his master did not return to ooanter«nler
their dismissal, she and Jamw wonld hmf
to bay* the house, whether they liked it or
no. But an hour afterwards a hurried knock
was heard upon the door of Begina's drsH-
ing room, and Mr. Selwyn's voice demandod
to speak to her if possible at once. Sbe
threw on a wrapper, and joined him on the
lauding.
'Vivian has returned at last, Mrs.
Chasemore I I th<»nght yon would be
lad to know it ; but he seems to have
«en wauderioB about all nigbt in the rain,
and I am afraid he luM made biniMlf
thoroughly ill I '
' l>ear me 1 How foolish ] I thought he
had more sense. Where is he? Why
doesn't he come here ?*
' Ue refused to do so. He has gone into
the spare bedroom and thrown himself opon
the Dud. ludeml Mrs. Chasemore, I think
you had better send for a doctor. He is wet
through to the skin and shivering %11 over.
I am Mure he will have an Ittaok of ilhisw
unless he is seen to at once.'
* Nonsense ! Surely a wetting can't do a
=:sa any harm 1 However, you had better
cuusuli his own wishes on the subject.'
' 1 am afraid he is not fit to be oonsnlted.
He appears half delirious, to me.'
' Must likely he has h^d more than in good
for him. It is very disgusting, but Vivian
has transgressed more tlum once in that way
lately. You ha«i better send for the dootur.
Mr. Selwyn. The butler knows his address.
And pray keep Vivian away from me till he
\ t himself asain. I have no wish to see him
iu so degrading a condition.'
' Indeed you are mistaken,' conuneooed
Selwyn earnestly ; but she shnt the door
whilst he was speaking, and he tnm^ away
disheartened by hei want of feeling. <
He had not told her that as he went to
meet his friend in the hall that morning,
Vivian had thrown himself into his arms
and murmured incoherently : ' Oh, Selwyn —
Selwyn ! she doesn't care for me, my boy.
She only married me for my d — d money-
she told me so 1' -before he nearly fainted
^way from the excitement and exposure he
had nadergone, and that since then he had
lain face downwards on the bed, muttering
broken seutencvs, beariag the same import,
to himself.
The medical man, who was summoned at
once, pronounced the case at first to be only
the effects of a violent chill, but was com-
rest
I«nr
THB ROOT OF ALL BVJL.
if ftoy
MOIMr*.
Mr that
trH>rder
d IwTe
Bdilor
IkBOok
sdNM-
nuuidad
Mk 8ke
oa the
i, Mn.
onld be
to have
ihe rein,
himMlf
sngbt he
? Why
{one into
Mlf noon
, I think
tfeiswet
«11 over,
of
mn't do a
lul better
KMUulted.
A is good
It Vivian
that way
lO dtiotur.
addroM.
ae till he
» nee him
ninenoed
ibe door
i^ away
I went to
norning,
iiisarme
Iwyn —
ay boy.
noney —
fainted
•are be
I be bad
ittering
I import,
looed at
Ibe only
\b com*
felled before nightfall to ohaage hia oftinion
and oall it fever. Whatever it ma^ have
been,it detained Vivian Obaeemore m bed
for nearly a month, during whioh time be
reeolntely rofoied to eee or apeak with bia
wife.
The mere mention of her name drove
himintoapaesion.and Everard Selwyn was
obliged at laat to ignore it altogether. That
faithful friend alone sat by hia bedaide, whilst
Segina went here, there, and everywhere, in
ordertopaM away the dull spring weather,
and professed, as far as lay in her power, «o
know everything about the domestic arrange-
ments of her husbtuid's sick-room. At last
▼ivian was convalescent, and Dr. Morton
recommended a few weeks of the seaside to
restore his strength before the fatigues of the
I«udon season began. Ventnor was soleoced
as voasessiuff the temperature best suited to
his wse, and thither Selwyn accompanied
him in the early part of April. The actor
had been most anxious to bring about a
meeting and a reconoiliatiou between the
husband and wife before Vivian left home,
but the sick man was resolute. The last
words and looks that had passed between
them seemed to be burned in upon bis
memory, and be shuddered at the mere
thought of seeing her again.
' When I come back, perhaps -when I
oome back 1' was all the answer Selwyn oould
extract from him.
Had Regina been a loving, repeotMt
woman, however undisciplined and HMti^ in
dispositioa, who would have watobed and
waited for an opportunity to Hhrow one
pleading glance in Vivian's <i^recnon, bia
resolution would probably hfcv« jnven way ;
but she kept completely out of nia sight.
She encased herself in an armosr of pride
and reserve, and almost believed, as she con-
stantly assured Selwyn, that skw never wished
to see her b«mband again. The quarrel that
had taken .place between them was no secret
to Bverard, for Vivian haa bhkbbed it all ia
Us first weakness, and Regina had definatly
capped every word he uttered. |Bo that their
friend reiUly thought th»t, under the circum-
■tanoes, time and separation would work the
bast oure. But a few days after Vivian had
dflfiarted for Veataor, Regiua was sur.
pnsed to receive a letter m his handwrit-
ing.
* He had come to his senses at last, ha*
he f she thought, as she broke the seal. 'So
much the better for him, tben, for I think if
he httd kept up this sort of thin^t mN*ch
longer, I should have felt very much dis-
posed to do sumetbing , desperate myself by
way of a change.'
The oontents of her letter, however, were
very different from what she expeoted.
« I write to tell you,' it said, ' that I have
decided on making a fishing expedition to
Norway with Lord Charlesfora, and Selwyn
will accompany us. I do not know how long
I ahall be away — perhaps a twelvemonth —
perhaps more, but that is of little oonse*
?ueuce At any rate I shall not return until
feel I can meet yon again as a friend, whioh
end can oulv be accomplished by time and
absenoeb Meanwhile, yon will receive an
ample allowance for your necessities, whioh
will doubtless compensate yon for any inoon-
venienoeayou may experience from my ab*
senoe.
* I write to Mr. Farthingale by this post
to make all necessary arrangements. If
vou like to have your mother or any lady
friend to live with you whilst I am away, do
so- I kaow I can trust your discretion to
make this unfortuoatebusinessas little public
as possible. I have given out that the
state of my health necessitates a complete
change, so you had better spread the same
story.
' Yours sincerely,
^Vivian CHASBifOBB.'
Only that ! No more ! Not a word of
love, or regret, or sympathy. Only these
few cold lines to say that they were about
to part perhaps for years— perhaps for ever 1
Regina, as she read tbem and realised all
they might portend, felt more of a woman
than she bad ever done in her life before.
Her husband's prolonged absence in a strange
country meant, for him, risks from climate,
travelling, and the acbidents of sport ; and
for herself, solitude, a humdrum existence,
and the whispered comments of her female
friends.
And as R<)gina thought of all this,
she actually oriwl, not in a whimper nor wiih
tears of bi^ctd nve, but with a good down*
riflht hearty 'cry, ^uob as she had very
seldom indulged in before. Vivian was
nearer to her heart at that moment than she
would have acknowledged. If be bad only
come back then to plead for reconciliation,
hia proud wife would have opened her arms
to him in a manner that would have taken
hira completely by surprise. But be w«s at
Ventnor, making his preparations to go in
Loi«d Charlenford's yacht to Norway, and
little guuased that Kegina was weeping for
him at bume.
The next day, however, the softened feeling
had been crushed out again by her indomit.
able pride, and she de&pised herself for
having given way to it.
If Vivian oould enjoy himself away from
tij
r^ 1
1:
90
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
her, what obitkole wm there to her following
his example? 80 that Lord Oherlesford^
Sieht, she ' Thiebe/ bad berelv loet eiaht of
uglieh Und, before Mre. Vivien Chaee-
more wm egaia mixing in eooiety, and re«
otirmn gueste at her own home.
OHAPT£R X.
'ALONB with him t I OANVOT BBAR IT.'
The two years and a half that had been
spent by Mrs. Vivian Chasemore in running
aoont to Paris, or to Nice, or to Italy in
searoh of health and amusement, had been
passed by Mrs. Kit Masters entirely in the
environs of Drury Lane. The poorer classes
dare not think of 'change.* Whether the
eeason be sickly or otherwise, they mnst r^-
main and brave it throush ; thankful if they
uscape infection, and Bubmissive if they fare
no worse than their neighbours.
When we saw Bonuie last, she had just
reached a crisis in her new life. Her hus>
band hwi struck her I But do not let it be
supposed that th
r S'
:U a^joD her bloom-
ing cheek with half the sting that one of 'de
ffina's unkind wordssank into Vivian's heart.
Bonnie had been too much used to see hus-
bands strike their wives, to feel as if an irre-
(Murable injury had been done to her di/^nity.
8hi^ oi:ly felt it and cried under it as '^ child
might have done. It was unjustly ^ven, of
course. S3 does the child often vote its
parent unjust in punishment, but it is com-
pelled to submit all the same, and it does not
fall in its own estimation on account of the
blow. Bonnie had flown to her graodmnther
with her grievance on that occasion, but the
old woman had not sympathised very strongly
with her sense of injury.
* Lor , child I ' she exclaimed, ' a little 'it
like that from a man don't mean nothin'.
I suppose yon druv 'im beside hisself and 'e
iust let out at you. You musn't think of
sich trifles 1 Why, I can remember when
your grandfather, who was as good a 'usband
as ever stepped, used to cuft me right and
left if I went against 'im. You musn't
go against a man. Allays let 'im 'ave 'is
own way, and 'e'll jog on quiet enough.'
'Bfat he's broke all ray things,' sobbed
Bonnie.
' Lor ', now, they was only rubbage ! it's
no use thinkin' of ttiem. Kit will buy you
better ones when 'e comes to his souses, see
if 'e dont. And now, Bonnie, yon be good
and clear up all the litter afore 'e comes in
again, or you'll drive me to cuff you myself,
wbioh has never been my 'abit as you well
know.'
What with her grandmother's argument
and Kit's apparent forgetfalness of th« 1
they had passed through, Bonnie began to
think she most have been tha onlv one in
the wreog, and that to strike a nawly-mada
wife on the side of the head was tha mla,
rather than the exception, in holy matri«
mony. She knew that Mr. and Mrs. Ball,
round the oomer, had periodical quarrels,
when the woman alwaye came off with the
worst of the bargain, and she could racolleot
the dav when poor Ann Martin, the shoe*
maker's wife, oame soreaming into her
{[randnothor's parlour, with ner ohedi
aid open from a blow with a oobler's awl.
She had thought once that these /fere un-
happy marriagee, and that people that
loved each other never fought. Somethini
in the leeeons of reiineu:«nt Tvbioh she had
unconsciously imbibed from Alfred Waver*
ley's society and surroundings had imbued
her with the idea that husbands and wives
should be the dearest and truest frieods to
one another, but sbe eupposed now that she
had been mistaken. To be a wife, she found,
was to be a sort of se.vant — at the book and
call of one person only —who must do, not
what she liked, but what she was told,
or she would be punishe ' for her disobedi-
ence.
Kit Masters did not often again allude to
the jealous fit she had aroused in him.
Either he forgot it, or he thought it best not
to recall the circumstance to her. But it in«
fluenced him t3 be much rougher and harsher
with Bonnie than he mi^ht otherwise have
been. As time went on, the conjugal en*
dearments which she had so much dn>aded
were dropped altogether, and a curt com-
mending manner took, their place. Bonnie
ran, fetched and carried fer her lord and
master like a dog, and like a dog she was
cuffed for disobedience or neglect.
This sort of usage soon had an effect on
her. She hrd never been strong in the head,
and she now became stupid and dull — con*
fused ideas ohased each other through her
brain — her memory seemed torpid, and all
life passed before her like some troubled
dream. Old Mrs. Bell declared that marriage,
instead of briBhtenning Bonnie's wits, had
made her ' darter ' than before, whilst Kit
asserted that she was ' a perfect fool,' and
that if she didn't look a little sharper after
his comforts, he'd jog her memory with a
stick. But neither her husbands promisee
nor his fulfillment of them seemed to make
any difference in Bonnie. She went through
her daily work in a sluggish, unmeaning sort
of way, and when she failed in pleasing him,
she took her punishment without a murmur.
Poor little Bonnie I before the twelvemonth
had gone over her head, she was used t»
Thm
her
thai
■he
/
TRB BOOT or ALL EVIL.
•1
lain
nad*
rul«i
Ball,
mis,
i the
ollMt
■ho«>
> h«r
ihMk
I AWl.
reaa*
that
ithioi
e had
^aver*
nbaed
wivaa
loda to
tat aha
found,
ok and
o, not
I told,
•obadi*
ude to
n him.
teat not
it it in-
haraher
le have
;al en-
iraaded
•t oom*
Bonnie
trd and
le waa
feet on
lehead,
U— eon.
iffh her
knd aU
subled
krriage,
had
bt Kit
and
Br after
nth a
imiaea
make
irough
ig sort
kg him,
lurmur,
smonth
Ised t»
being * hit,'— and really did not aeem to oare
whetner it took place or nol Only it made
hitr bead more atnpid and oonfaaad. And
sometime*, when Kit Maatera waa oat with
his greeof^rooer'a oart (for sinoe the memor-
able meeting with Virian Obasemore he had
not taken his wife with him as a regai»7
thing), she would sit for honrs with her
handa olasped to her forehead, trying to
diaentangle the mental oonfnaion that reign*
od there.
lfeanwhile,althoughahe never oomplained
of ill health,the roumied symmetry of Boo-
nie'a Bsnre hati departed. »nd her face look-
ed half the aise tnat it had been bafore.
There was an aching, unsatitlied longing in
her heart whioh she hardly awnoiated with
the memory of Alfred Waverltiy, but which
she knew felt worae and opnreated her moat
whenever her grandmotber allmted to tbe
daya when their lodger waa with them or won*
dered what had become of hitn sioce he left.
Theneighbonra remarked the alteration in
the girl'a appearance, and warned Mrs. Bell
that ahe was going into a ' waste,' but all the
old woman'a answer was, ' that if it was the
Lord's will to take her, sbewas sure she wasn't
Eing to be the one to ioterfero.for she didn't
lieve that Kit and sbe would even get on
too well as man and wife.* At which the
noighboara would ahake their heada sym-
patbisingly si say, that ' marriage waa a
lottery, that it wis, and the greateat meicy
in this life waa beina able to thiuk as there
wae none of it in heaven.'
But notwithstanding Bonnie's waated figure
ahe did not die, or even fall sick. It waa tbe
<Ad grandmother who was ci'lled home fir^t.
Two yeara after Bounie's marriage, there
WM a very hard winter— so hard a one that
it drove lUgina to Nice fur months together,
and brought her home wrapped up in tboae
furs whioh Lady William declared must ha/e
cost hundreds of pounds. Mra. Bell, how*
everj not possessing even hundreds of pence
to snend on her own comfort, and having
reaoked the good old age of seventy, auij-
cambed to the bitter atmosphere, and sank
under an attack of inflammation of the lungs.
Her ipmdmotber'a death appeared to strike
Bonnie more as a fear that a trouble. Mrs.
Bull, who helped to lay out the corpee, could
not believe that the girl realised that tbe old
woman waa gone from her, as she watched
her dttins by the bedside, holding tbe dead
band in her own. and heard her talking aa
though ahe expected to have an anawer to
her words.
EHie went home to tell her husband that
Bonnie's manner scared her much more than
attendance on tbe corpee bad done, and that
aiia'd rather by a great deal sit up all night
alone with old Mra. Bell in her shnr* i, than
havehergnMnddaughter to bear here jipany.
' Uow ever Kit Maatera oan get along with
a wife like that, I can't nndentand. Why,
ahe'a no better than a big child I'm snra if
yon'd seen her to>day, yon'd 'ave eaid she
was just tit for a 'sylnm— and nothin' else. I
kcow poor dear Mrs. B«ill 'ad a tryin' time
witti 'er from her oradl* nppards. and it's a
pit)' ahe weren't took fast, thavs what I
aay.'
' Vfhy ain't she got an 'usband to look
arter'erT' said Mr. Ball, who oonaidered
marriage to be the aim and tbe end (as it
too often is, eepeoially the end) of woman*
kind.
' True I bat Kit Maatera, 'e oaflii 'er aboal
too maith. I take it 'e don't nndentand tha
gal's natnr. She waa allaya soft, and now
she seems softer to me than ever. I don't
believe she's got the least notion that her
poor grandmother'a gone from 'er.'
But if Bonnie could not realise the fact of
her bereavement all at once, it waa evident
enough that she underatood it on the day of
tbe iuterment, when her frantic screams rais-
ed tbe neigh boarhood, and caused her to re>
ceivemore than one 'cuff' from Mr. Mas-
ten' kiudlf hand, aa a quieting dose, before
he left her to follow the b<)dy to the grave.
Mra. Bull and othera bad tried to dress
Bonoie in her mourning and make be/ attend
tbe funeral in vain. 8he had wildly reaisied
all attempts to induct her into tbe new
blauk dress, and entreated them to bring her
grandmother'a cofpn up-atain again, and not
to part her from her only friend. Kib'a
Boothing- mixture had the effect of tuiuing
tbe poor child'a excited screams into low
sobs, but when the hearse and tbe mourning*
coach bad driven away from tbe door, and
sbe fonud ahe was really left alone in tJie de-
serted bouse, her agony of mind was extreme.
8he threw herself upon tbe floor, atiflmg her
aoba in tbe akirt of her dress, aa though she
feared that her husband might yet be at-
tracted back to the bouae again in order to
atill them.
'Alone I alone I ' ahe kept on murmuring
toheraelf; 'all alone with him. Oii 1 I
canot bear it ! I ahall go msd I I cannot,
cannot bear it 1'
The remembrance of her gnndmother'a
kindly old face, with its seamed and puckered
forehead, ita mild brown eyes snd tuothleas
mouth, atmok her with overwhelming pain.
8he had often corrected her, it is true : she
had called her ' daft ' and ' soft' and useless,
and told her to put up with Kit's unkindness,
and thank the Lord be was no worse— but
atill ahe had loved her. Sbe was aure of
that I She thought of the cold, trembling old
:■ ik,'.'
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Photographic
Sciences
Corporation
"^>^
33 WEST MAIN STREET
WEBSTER, N.Y. US80
(716) S72-4S03
r.*^" «>.
V^
VV^<'
f/.
Ip
n
THI ROOT OF ALL SVIU
luMid that iwed lometimM to stroke her heir:
ot the qaiet kiea It id apoo her forehead : of
the qniveriug Toice that bade her be patient
aod good, asd remember thxt it was her daty
to an omit — andnbe felt sure her grandmother
had loved her, for «ho eahe of her father
whom she had laid to sleep in the oharoh*
yard.
And now that she had gone there was no
one— oo one to whom she cculd fly in peril
or distress : ao one to bid her be brave and
make the best of things. It was this sense
of utter loneliness thatstraok fionnie with so
much terror : ^e fear of being left complete*
ly in the power of Kit Masters, without a
ereature to turn to for comfort or protection.
She pondered on the idea until it touched
km brain, and she turned her head restlessly
from side to side, like some wild animal
tryiug to shake off the oppression of paw.
At laat the horrid thougbs struck her that
time was hurrying on, and the funeral party
would soon be returning to the huuse. If he
caught her again, there wauld be no escape
for her. She would have to live her whole
life alone with him, and the idea fiightened
her into action. She rose hastily, and with-
out the least preparation ran downstairs and
lAt the house by the back door.
bhe had no bonnet on her head, and her
dreas was tumbled and in disorder ;but that
was of little consequence. Such sights were
not unusual in Drury Lane, and so long as
she could walk straight, no one would molest
her. The child did not walk, she ran with
a swift, light step that took her over the
ground like a lapwing. Where she was
going she had no idea, nor with what purpose
she thus sped along. She only felt tbat she
was hurry mg from him, and that if he did not
find her she would not be laughed at again
when she was stupid, nor struck on the head
when she was dull, nor sworn at until her
senses swam with the terror and the din.
She knew that she ran quickly on, past
houses and shops and theatres ; by cabs and
through streets, until she arrived at a broad
road where the houses stood apart from one
another, and in gardens where the frost lay
heavily.
Buui.ie breathed more freely as she
reached this place, for she had never seen it
before, and therefore she hoped that Kit had
never seen it either ; bat still she dared not
halt even for a moment. The broad road
was succeeded by another and yet another,
until the girl gained the open country, and
saw tields spread out before her, and a beau-
tiful glistening river, and farmhoues with
their comfortable homesteads, aud the shin*
ing hoai frost over all. But the day was draw-
ing in by that time ; the bright co.d sky had
gradually become overcast with dark lead-
coloured clouds, and the snow coiamenced te
falL Bonnie shivered as the keen air pene-
trated her scanty clothing ; but she plodded
on still the same, for her liead was burning,
and every sound that came to her upon tho
frosty air, she transformed into ttie fallop-
ing of a horse's hoofs, following to overtake
her and carry her back to Kit fasten. And
so she toiled on, forgetful of hunger, cold
and fatfgue, until the evening shadows fell
and hid her from view.
When Mr.Maaters returned with the
funeral party from beeio(|| the old woman laid
in her^rave, and found his wife absent with*
out leave, his annoyance was not concealed
in his own breast. He believed at first that
Bonnie had only ' stepped out ' to visit a
neighbour, and publicly averred his inten-
tion of giving her 'a bit of his mind/ as soon
as she steppml home again. Mrs. Bull, who,
in return for hek* delicate attentions to the
deceased, had been invited to partake of the
funeral * baked meats,' and who was a very
good-natured woman, begged Kit not to
put himself out, as she would do all
that was necessary in preparing the meal
that ought to have been set ready for their
return.
'Bonnie seemed nigh off 'er 'ead this
momin' with trouble. Masters, and you
musn't be 'ard on 'er if she 'ave gone off^ te
'ave a good talk with some one, and forgot
the dinner for once in a way. There's
nothin' so refreshin' after a death as to 'ave
a good talk with them as oan feel for
you.'
' Ah I ' replied Mr. Masters with a know-
ing look, ' if she's bin hoff 'er 'ead this
momin', 'er 'ead will be hoff 'er this evenin'
if she dont get some very good excuse for
this be'aviour. Why, what's a wife for, I
should like to know, if a man's to come
'ome and find no dinner ready for 'im. And
on a day like this, too, when we 'ave hall
bin-a-tramping barter that blessed old grand-
mother of her'n. Do you call that pleasure 7
cos I don't ! The honly thing I hail to look
forrard to was my dinner, and if Bonnie
dont account to me for this little joke of
her'n, well I'm jiggered 1 that's alL'
But th«i dinner appeared in due course, and
was consumed and digested, and still there
was no Bonnie. The^ even came to fear lest
the girl should have made away with herself
in her trouble, aud searched every possible
Klace of concealment without effeect. Kit
[asters grew more sullen and ominously
sileut as the afternoon drew on, whilst his
father and mother, who were present, en-
\l\
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
rpene-
ilodded
aming,
pontho
fftllop-
rerUke
m. And
sr, ooM
jwi fell
ith the
naalaid
int wilih*
onoealed
finttbftt
I yisit »
Ib inten*
/ueoon
lull, who,
■ to the
ke of the
M« Tery
t not to
i do all
the meal
' for their
>ead this
»nd you
me off to
d forgot
There's
to'ftve
feel for
|Diirse,uid
(itill there
0 fear leat
|th herself
possible
.jct. Kit
Lminously
whilst his
at, en-
treated him not to be too harsh with his wife
when she did oome baok ; and Mrs. Ball
triad to bring forward ever^ plea she oonid
devise to acconnt for Bonnie's delin^iaeney.
* You know as she ain't qnite the thing
in her head, Masters, and yonll promise not
to be too rough with 'er when she comes
'ome— won't yer now? For reely I'm
sometimes afraid she'll 'ave a fit when yon
hit 'er ; she do ico so blue about the mouth
and ohin.'
* Yes I you must take oare what you're
about, Christopher,' chimed in his mother;
' for Job Keeley finished his wife by mistake
one day, you know, and is serring his time
tor it now, poor fellow. It would be an
orfel thing if you was to 'ave the same mis-
fortune 'appen to you.'
* Don't ;^ou be afraid as I'll do anythink to
xit mjrself into trouble, old lady,' rejoined her
amiable son , ' but if a man's not to find fault
with his own property, I should like to know
who is. MTwiie's so soft she don't understand
AaytUng but a Ucl:in', and I've never given
'er a regular one as yet, as all the street
knows."
' And I 'opes you'll never try it. Masters,'
said Mrs. Bull ; ' for as sure as yon do, that
gol will 'ang or dround of herself. You've
given 'er quite ennff a'ready.*
* 'Ave I ?' he replied with a leer, for he
had imbibed considerably more liquor than
was good for him that day ; ' well, jest wait
till she comes 'ome,and we'U see if she can't
stand a leetle more. I can't 'ave bin very
'ard ou 'er, or she wouldn't 'ave dared play
me this trick.'
But the funeral party dispersed, and yet
the missing girl had not been seen nor heard
(rf, and two or three days passed without
intellisenoe being received of her.
Kit Masters grumbled to himself and swore
to tibe neighbours, whenever the subject of
his wife was mentiened bciore him, but he
seemed to feel no furthur interest in the
matter, nor to be taking any trouble to search
for her whereabouts. One or twice be said
he supposed she had gone off with some
other ' feller,' and so she might for all he
cared ; for he could mt on quite as well, and a
deal better ,withoutlier than with her. And it
was not until the Bull and others represented
to him that if any harm bad come to Bonnie,
lua indifference would go very much against
him in a court of law, that he awakened up
to a sense of the responsibility he was
incurring and the danger he possibly ran.
Then, self-preservation being the first law of
nature, Mr. Kit Mapters went off with a
long fMC and a lugubrious tale of bereave-
ment to the polioestation,and left a descrip-
tion of the missing girl for the benefit of the
force. Which means resulted in his reoeiving
information, on the second day, that a young
woman answering the description of Bonnie
had been found in some fields near Putney on
the night of the funeral, half frosen and
nearly uoconscious, and been taken to the
Putney workhouse, where she awaited recog-
nition, having been found moat obstinate u
refusing to give her name or addresiw
* Oh,she'U speak when she sees me, never
fear,' remarked Mr. Masters as he set off to
see the girl who had been detained at
Putaey. It was Bonnie, sure enouah I He
knew It almost before he lifted his eyes to
her face, by the scream of terror with which
she saluted him, and the attempt she made to
hide herself behind the matron, who hed
conducted him to her presence.
' She seems fairly skeered at the sight of
you,' remarked the matron, suspiciously, as
she patted Bonnie kindly on the back. *Axt
you really her husband? She looks very
younff to be married.'
* It you want to see the marriage lines,
ma'am, I can go 'ome andfetah 'em,'replidKit
Masters, sullenly. ' But she's my wife, sure
enough, and I might add, more's the pity,for
I'm a 'ard-working man, and 1 'aven't got
the time to go skying over the country arter
a woman who takes it into 'er 'ead to cut
from 'ome for nothink at alL'
* But there must have been some reason
for her running ai»vy. Had she any trouble ?
We have been qu>te unable to make her
speak to us.'
* Wall ! her orandmother died, if that's to
be called a troiu>le, mum,' replied Kit, who
felt he must be on his good behaviour in so
public a place,
' Poor girl i perhai* she felt it more than
vou suspected. She is not very strong, you
know, and yon must take great care of her.
Many women go off their heads a bit at
times.'
' Oh ! Ill take oare of 'er, mum, never fear.
Come on, Bonnie,' he continued to his wife ;
* the cart's at the door, and we must get 'ome
now. Thank the lady for takin' so much
care of yon, and promise 'er you won't play
sioh a foolish trick agen. You've kep' me on
nice tenter-hooks tor the last week— not
knowing wheer you was.'
He took her hand as he spoke, and she
followed him, meek and silent as a lamb, but
with a look of fear and distaste upon her
face, which the matron declared haunted her
memory for days afterwards.
' That man's a brute, if ever I see one,' she
decided in her own mind as she gave poor
Bonnie farewella smile and nod.
The ' brute' never spoke a word the whole
way baok to Loudon, and his wife, infecring
w
tm
5 ;!
94
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
the v«ry worst from his ominous silence, wm
in a state of fear that rendered Her more dead
than alive when he ited her down from the
cart before the does of their own house.
Half the neighbours were on the alert to
witness their arrival, and the Bulla, with
several other friends, crowded round Bonnie,
aa she reached the pavement, with many ex-
pressions of sympathy and enquiries as to
where she had been and how she had fared,
klut Kit pushed the crowd to one side.
' Leave er alone !' he said peremj^torily ;
'a faggot as runs away from 'er usbaud
without rhyme or reason 'as got to answer
to 'im fust for 'er be'aviour. 1 ^avent't talked
to B.)unie myself yet. You'll please to leave
'er alone till I've finished.'
And he pulled the girl into the shop after
him as he spoke.
' Masters — Masters 1 take care what you re
adoiug of 1' cried Mrs. BulL ' I warns y«»u
as she ain't over-strong, and you'll rue the
hour as you touches 'er. '
The only answer Mr. Masters vouchsafed
to this appeal was to consign Mrs. Bull to
ou unpleasantly « arm retreat, and to slam'the
door :u her face. Then he was alone with
his wife, and there was no one to iuterfeie
between them. But Mrs. Bull kept on ham-
mering at the outside of the door with vio-
leuce enough to rouse the street.
• Let me in,' she repeated vehemently, 'or
I'll send Bull for the police ! You're not a
man— vou're a brute ! and if you dare to
touch that gal with as -nuch as your little
tinger, I'll go into court and swear it ageu
you, as sure as my name's Jane Bull. Let
me in, I say ! She ain't tit to be trusted to
your 'ands M'ithout a witness, and I promised
hbr grandmother as I'd stand by 'er, and 1
will ! Do you 'ear what I say. Kit Masters ?
I've summat to tell you, and it you don't
open the door to me, I'll get the neighbours
to stove it in !'
The noise she made had more effect upon
Kit than any amount of threats. He was
terribly afraid of the interference of the
police, and they paced the little back street
in Drury Lane pretty regularly. So he un-
locked the door a:^ain, and, with a dogged
air, asked the woman what she meant by
kicking up that shindy before a decent man's
house. But Mrs. Bull had pushed her portly
person past him and thrown her arms round
Bonnie before he had finished speaking, and
then she declaied she'd never unclasp them
until she'd brought Kit to h.is bearings.
■It' You may growl and swear as much as you
like, Masters, but if you lay a 'and on this
poor gal agen, Bull and me will be the fust
to inform against you, and 'ave 'er puitected ;
so you can put that in your pipe aud smoke
it. It's got to be a perfect scandal, and we
ain't a-(toiu' to 'ave no more of it, so there I '
' Oh ! you ain't, ain't yer ? ' sneered Kit.
' No ! we am't, and you can make what
you like of it. 'Twould be aoryin' shame at
any time to see 'er cuffed about as you cuffs
'er, but specially now. Why, wheer are
your eyes, Masters ? Can't you see as she's a
'uother?
' A what ? ' said Kit Masters.
' A mother ? ' repeated Bonnie, with wide
open eyes.
' In coorse you are, and heverybody knows
it but your two selves. So, now, 'it er agen,
Kit Masters, if you dare 1'
' I Hhan't touch 'er,' replied the man almost
reluctaiitly, as he turned away and walked
into old Mrs. Bell's little parlour.
Mrs. Bull saw that even his uncouth nature
was tempttrarily softened by the intelligence
she had given him, and that his wife was
safe with him at all events for the present.
So with a rough kiss to Bonnie and a whis*
pered warning not to * haggervatw' him
further, she returned to her own home,
leaviutt the married couple alone with each
other and the wonder of their new expecta-
tions.
IND OF YOL. n.
VOLXJMRIII.
CHAPTER L
' YOU MiTST PASS IT OFF AS YOUR OWN.'
Mrs. Vivian Chaaemnre did not ask her
mother nor any other lady to live with her
duriui; the term of her husband's absence,
LaHy William Nettleship would have been
delighted to have made her way into her
daughter's houae, and to have established
some sort of authority there ; but Regina
foresaw too well the difficulty of ever getting
rid ot her again, to give any encouragement
to the many hints which she threw out upon
the subject. Yet she always took the
greatfst care, before issuing invitations for
a party, to ascertain if Lady William would
be able to assist her in entertaining her
^uest8,for the whole of her social life, whilst
Vivian was away, was conducted upon
principles of the strictest propriety. How
was It liki'ly to be otherwise ? Regina had
no religion t«> kcp her straight, but the very
oulduess which distressed her husband and
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
05
and we
there I '
edKit.
Le wb»t
■b*me at
on caffs
heer are
as she's a
rith wide
]y knows
retagen,
an almost
kd walked
ith natnre
ttelliKeDOO
I wife was
e present,
id a whis*
rate' him
vn home,
with each
w expecta*
I.
lOWN.'
[tot ask her
with her
|8 abseoce,
bave been
into her
bstablished
it Regina
irer getting
irattement
7 out upon
I took the
^tioDS for
Jam would
lining her
life, whilst
tted upon
How
legina had
\ the very
sband and
made her so unsympatheic a wife, stood her
in excellent stead as a yoang and beautif al
hostess, dispensing hospitality without the
protection of a husband^s presence.
Ho one ever had it in their power to
breathe a word against the complete decorum
of Mrs. Vivian Chasemore. She never re-
ceived a gentleman aloue except it was dur
ing an afternoon call, neither did she ever
appear in public without being accompanied
by some lady older thau herself. The
season came on apace, and the temptations
to ' gad about' were numerous. Still, Regina
resisted every one that she was unable to
accept under the chaperonage of Lady
William, and was quoted as the most reti-
cent and discreet ot all young wives ever left
to pass through a London season by them
selves. Whether she enjoyed the life sue
had resolved upon leading, it is not so easy
to determine. Her hours at home were
passed in a very lackadaisical ud useless
manner. She had never cared for needle-
work, and she exhausted the contents of the
libraries as fast as they were produced. She
found it very dull driving about alone, or in
company with her mother' whose sentiments
had never tallied well with heirs ; but it was
still duller to remain indoors by herself. She
missed her husband's society more than she
chose to acknowledge, especially in the
evenings, and sny .lady friend who dropped
in to see her after her solitary dinner was
always very sincerely welcomed by Mrs.
Vivian Chasemure. Amongst those ac-
quaintances who had thus re-established an
intimacy with her, was Miss Selina Farthin-
gale, who found the house in Premier Street
a very pleasant lounse in the eveuings, es-
pecially sinoe her faUier had taken to spend-
ing then away from home. Lady WUliam
Nettleship was not so frequent a visitor after
dark, unless she came by special invitation.
Regina set her fac<^ against cards, and refused
to receive Mrs. Ruunymede, so that her
mother found it was so much time wasted
to dance attendance on her daughter's soli-
tude.
But Selina grew to be a standing dish
there, and the proud Regina, who had
despised -the friendship of the lawyer's
daughter in her earlier days, ended by
making quite a contidante of Miss Farthin-
gale. After all, they were much of the same
age and standing in society, and it is very
hard for a woman to bear pain anddisappoint-
ment entirely by herself. Regina felt iier
husband's desertion to be a great injury and
insult, and she could not forbear impartini;
her feelings on the subject to Selina. Thus
the original cause of the quarrel was brought
forward, and the name of Mrs. General
Chasemore came on the ' tapis.'
Miss Farthingale appeared to sympathise
entirely with her friend's sense of wrong, and
the absent Vivian came in for no small share
of blame between them. Selina was ready
to believe Mrs. General Chasemore to be a
much injured woman, and counselled Regina
to find out the rights and wrongs of the
whole matter for herself.
Consequently, when it happened that the
lawyer's daughter and the General's widow
met by accident in Regina's house, it was
only natural that she should introduce them
to one another. She fancied that the elder
lady looked startled when she first pro-
nounced Selina's name, but concluded she
must have, been mistaken, as they had
evidently never met before. Friendship,
however, seeming to spring up between them
as if by magic. Mrs. General Chasemore
raved over Selina's appearance, manners,
and accomplishments, whilst Miss Farthingale
pronounced her new acquaintance to be the
most charminff, clever, and conversational
person she had ever known. Regina could
not join, with uincerity, in her commenda-
tions. Her husband's stepmother was just
the sort of woman she had always set her
face resolutely against, and she only tolerated
her familiarity from a feeling of rebellion
against Vivian, a determination to have her
own way, and a curiosity to learn little by
little every detail of her husband's former
life, which, when probed, Mrs. General
Chasemore seemed to know very little
about. But then it was too late to retreat
from the intimacy she had allowed her to
establish.
One afternoon Regina was sitting in her
own room with a very uncomJortable feeling
called fear knocking at her heart. Dr.
Morton had not heard until that mornins
that his patient had taken French leave,and
left Vontnor for Norway, and he had called
on her to ascertain if the news were
true.
When she had informed him that it was
so. and that her husband's stay in the North
was likely to be ^indefinitely prolonged, the
medical man had shaken his head and said
he was very sorry, and he wished he had
been apprised of Mr. Chasemore's intention
before he put it into execution.
' Mr. Chasemore is not nsualljr very open
to persuasion Dr. Morton, when it runs in a
contrary direction to his own wishes ; but
may I ask why yon seem to attach any
importance to this last freak of his ! It is
becoming a very usual expedition, I believe,
with the young men of the present day. '
' Oh yes, certainly ! and nothing more
4'\
I ^
"3 i
96
THE ROOT OF ALL BVIL.
delighifal, I should imagine, for a man in
fall health. Bat though I do not wish to
alarm you. Mrs. Chasemore, I must tell you
that I did not quite like the found of your
husband's lungs the last time I applied the
stethoscope to them. That was the reasoti I
sent him to Ventnor, from whenoe I quite
expected he would return to London. The
summer months may not signify so much,
hut I should say that an autumn and winter
on the coast of Norway might be very de*
leterious to him. I trust ^ou will persuade
him to return before then. ^
' I will mention your opinion to him when
I write,' replied Regina, who was anxious not
to let the doctor guess under what circum-
stances she and Vivian had parted with each
other ; but I am much afraid there in little
chance of anything I can say making Mr.
Chasemore alter his dUdb. I hope yon do
not think him really ill !'
There was true concern in the tone with
which she uttered those words, for danger to
her husband meant poverty for herself ; but
Dr. Morton naturally attributed her anxiety
to her conjugal a£Fection.
* Not exactly ill, perhaps, but his health is
delicate, and requires attention. The severe
chill he took on the occasion of his last
attack most certainly left a little dulness in
the lungs. I should have preferred his pat-
ting off this fishing expedition till next year,
but as you justly observe, young men are apt
to be headstrong patients, and fond of having
their own way. But you may as well give
Mr. Chasemore a hint of what I say, and
appeal to his t(ood sense to return to a
warmer climate before the autumn sets in.
I am t(lad to see yon lookint; so well your-
self. Good-morning!' and Dr. Morton
quitted th? apartment, leavine Regina with
an intolerable headache and the uncomfort-
able sensation before alluded to, as sole
company, fle might think she looked well,
but she did not feel so. The spectre that
had haunted her at intervals ever since the
day on which she learned that it was not in
her husband's power to make any settlements
upon her, rose up more hideous in her eyes
than ever to confront and alarm her. She
had bold the doctor calmly enouKh that she
would write and try to dissuade Vivian from
passing too long a time from home ; but the
Jact wa } that since she had received those
few cold lines from Ventnor, she had never
heard from him, and had no notion of his
address, Lord Charlesford's yacht was
likely to be cruising here, there, and every-
where, and its occupants to have no settled
residence •^ntil their return. And even if
she knew where to write, would any argu-
ments she could use have an effect upon
Vivian in his present state of mind towards
her ? Would he not detect the reason of her
apparent anxiety for his welfare, and throw
her mercenary metivee baok in her teeth ?
Would he not say that she had made life
worthless to him, and the sooner he got
rid of it the better f — she believed that ne
would. She knew his hasty, passionate
nature, and how difficult it was for him to
forgive and forget a slight to lua i^aotions.
So she sat alone all the afternoon, declining
any of the servioes of Mrs. Perkins's suo-
oeesor, whilst she ooaiured ap fear after fear,
and pictured to herself Vivian being loat at
sea, or dyins of a second attack :ipon the
lungs, and leaving her a widow upon the
mioerable interest of ten thousand pounds ;
whUst that ' brute,' Sir Arthur, walked off
with all the luxuries she had grown to be-
lieve were necessary to her. Such dismal
reflections were not calculated to make her
headache better, and when dinner was an-
nounced, she declined to descend to the
dining-room, and ordered tea to be served
in her boudoir instead. As she was in the
midst of it, Mrs. General Chasemore was
announced, and Reflina was thankful to
welcome any one who would serve as a
distraction of her unpleasant thoughts. Be-
sides, Mrs. Chasemore was a sort of relation,
and knew so much of the family affairs that
she had no hesitation in telling her every
word that Dr. Morton had said.
' Fancy, how wrons and imprudent it is of
Vivian to have joined in such an expedition,
under the circumstances ! So selfish too !
Not a thought of what would become of me
if he never returned. | had no idea Morton
considered his lungs affected. No one men*
tioned it to me. If they had, I should have
seat him down to Ventnor as soon as ever I
received the news of Vivian's intended de-
parture.'
' Ah, my dear 1 all men are the same I
They can think of no one but themselves.
But this sounds serious about Vivian's lungs.
I remember now that the poor General told
me he used to consider his chest delicate as a
boy.'
' Oh, yen don't mean to say so ! ' cried Re*
gina, clasping her hands in her apprehension.
' I think it is ^uite wicked that I should
never have been informed of all this before.
And the conditions of Sir Peregrine's will
even were never disclosed to me until after I
had committed myself by accepting his ro-
posals. I think I am a very deceived and
ujured woman ? '
' It will certainly be a great misfortune for
Tou, my dear, if your husband never comee
back again. What is the interest of ten
thousand pounds in consols ? — From three to
see
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
f7
hM,t
Mionaie
him to
Feotions.
leoliaiBg
«'• sao-
Kerfear,
l^lMt at
pon the
pon the
I povnds ;
ralhed off
m to bo-
th diimal
make her
WM w-
d to the
t)e served
wMintha
more wm
luuikf vl to
lerve M »
ghti. Be*
of relation,
kffairsthat
her every
.entitUof
expedition,
ilfieh too!
lome of me
lea Morton
one men*
jottld have
^n as ever I
mded de-
Ae same !
tiemaelvei.
-iierak told
leUcateaea
V oriedBe-
krebension.
Vt I ehonld
before.
.ine's will
atil after I
kg his TO-
'eived and
jtortune for
Ivor comee
Bt of ten
three to
four hundred a vear I Sheer begsary ! And
when you have been need to so maoh luxury
too,' qnolh Mrs. General Chasemore, as she
sipped her tea out of exqiiisite Japanese
Gll.na.
Kegina was ready to cry at the nrospect
' Oh, it cannot be !— it cannot possibly be ! '
she whimpereil. ' I should never survive
the humiliation.'
* And all for the want of a child to inherit
too,' continued the elder lady ; 'that is the
aggravating part of it. It's enough co make
a woman '
' What T ' inquired Regins finding she did
sot proceed.
* Well,! dare say you'll be shocked at what
I am going to aay, my dear ; but it seems
that the circumstances are so very peculiar
that they entirely alter the case, and I've
oltf^a wondered of late why it has never en-
tered your own head.'
' But I don't understand what you mean,'
said Regina.
Mrs. General Chasemore glanced back to
see if the door were closed fast before she
entered into explanations.
' I have often wondered why, since there
seems no prospect of an heir, that yon don't
substitute one.'
' Substitute one ! Adopt another woman's
baby, do you mean ?'
' Hush ! don't talk so loud, or we may be
overheard. Yea, that is what I meant*'
'But in case of Vivian's death they
wouldn't give the money to an adopted child,
would they V
* No, no, you goose ! of course not ; but
what need to say it was adopted. You must
pass it off as your own.'
' Oh, everybody would find that out.'
' Not if you're a clever woman 1 A woman
with brains can do anything she chooses in
his world, tit would only require a little
plotting and planning,and a little help. You
couldn^ do it alone. '
* I could never do it alL Vivian would
discover the fraud at once, and never forgive
me for ic !'
' What I when he is out in Norway, from
which the doctor hints he is unlikely to
return ? You'll not have such another oppor-
tunity my dear, as long as you live. The
man's out of the way for a clear twelve
month, and you have the field to yourself..
Why, it would be as easy as possible ! All
you would have to do would be tc go away
for a while, and oome back with the baby.
Do you suppose Vivian is such a conjuror
that he will be able t>» cell at a glance that
the child ib none of his T No, no, my dear !
trust to me. " It's a wise child," they say,
''that kuows its own father;" but depend
7
upon it, it's a much wiser father that knowi
his own ohild.*
Regina sat silent, ruminating on her e(Ma>
paninn's words. The proposition was too
stait ing a one to strike her at first sight witk
auythiog but dismay. Before Mrs. Obasa>
more had time to oontiaue her diaooaraa^
Miss Farthiagale walked into the room.
Ah I here is our dear Seiina I' exclaimed
the v^eoeral's widow. 'She and I were
talkiug over this very subject yestArdav
afternoon, and we mutually agreed that it
would be the most feasible thing in th«
world.'
* I am much obliged to you and Seiina, for
taking somuch interest in my private affairs,'
replied Regina haughtily. 8ne did not like
the idea of so delicate a matt er having been
disousssed by those two women,and her pride
was roused at once.
' What is it all about ?' said Seiina, looking
from one friend to the other.
' Dear Regina has been very much upset
this afternoon by Dr Morton telling her that
he considers Vivian's lungs unsound, and
that he runs a great risk in going to Norway.
Yuu know what a terrible thing it will be tor
her it he goes and dies out tbei-e, and leaves
her without any one to inherit all these
beautiful things — to say nothing of the
money.'
* Ji^zcept that odious creature Sir Arthur,'
interposed Seiina.
' Just so. A man who has neither gene*
rosity nor good feeling, and would be de*
lighted to have an opportunity of revenging
himself on the lady who had refused the
honour of his hand, it would break my
heart to see our dearRegina lef t to themeroy
of the baronet — living, as you may say, on
his charity, tor he wiJi never let het forget
that b'lr wretched pittance is derived from
his money 1 '
* It would be intolerable I ' murmured Re*
gina, as she laid her head down upon her
hands.
' I would rather bnaak stones upon the
road myself I ' rejoined Seiina. ' And I
would do anything to spite Sir Arthur, and
keep him out of the property ; so you m^y
depend upon my aid, dear, whenever it may
be required.'
' Mrs. Chasemore has been making the
most monstious proposal to me,' said Regina,
looking up " with a sickly smile ; ' but it is
uttetly impossible I '
/ 'I don't see that at all,' said Seiina,
stoutly.
' Have yon heard it, then ? '
' We were talking it all over yeBterday,aa
she has just told you. I know what I should
do in such a case. No doubts nor lears
III
< ^-1
iiii
I':: t
'li- ii '
'fi.
$.
M
THE BOOT OF A.LL EVIL.
•hottld stop DM, for »f t«r all, if it w«re found
•■t, nu ooe ii likelv to proMonte a Ud^
fai your position. Bssidas, how shoold it
be?'
' * Oh, people tell these things. The ler-
▼ante would be the first to betray me.'
'You mustn't trust servants. Ko one
should know it but a couple of real friends
like your mother-in>law and myself. It
would be as easy as ABC, if you only
tried it'
* It is not to be thought of,' returned Re-
f ina , yet she did think of it attain and af{ain
whilst her friends were with her, although
she resolutely turned the conversation to
other topics.
Miss Farthingale was obliged to be home
by ten o'clock that e /eniug, and a« the hour
approached, she roso to go. As she kissed
Regina at parting, she whispered :
* Don't be such a nany, my dear, as to let
all the money slip through your fingers for
the want of a little pluck 1'
And Regina answered earnestly :
' I will speak to you about it again, but
whatever you do, mention it to no one ;' and
then she returned thouehttuUy to the boudoir,
whence Mrs .General Ohasemore showed no
signs of an immediate removal.
' I am glad that ^irl is gone, my dear. She
is a good girl, and quite devoted to you, and
fou may trust her as you would myself ; but
want tohave a litlie talk alone with yon.
You must think over what I said to you,
Begina. Things are looking very serious ;
and if you don't make an effort to help your-
■elf now, you may never have another oppor>
tonity. If ow, I'll tell you what I'll do for
yon, if you like. I'll accompany you abroad
•B soon as the season is over, and we'll
manage the matter quietly there. If Vivian
finds out that you were with me at the time,
he can but scold you for disobedience ; for
after all, I am his father's widow,and there's
BO harm in your being seen with me ; but
the chances are, that he'll be ao delighted at
the idea of having a son and heir, that he'll
be able to think of nothing else.'
* Do you think he would be so very much
pleatied then ?'
* I don't think — I'm sure of it ! Nothing
sours a man'ti temper like having no children,
espeuinlly under such circumstances as his.
I sUouidn't wonder if all your late differences
have arisen from that cause. It's very unfair,
of oour8e,|but it often sets a man against his
wife. It's so unusual !'
* Yes, so it is,' acquiesced Regina, with a
sigh.
* Well, you have no power to remedy it in
the right way, my dear, and so I really think
you would be quite justified in doing the
next best thing you can for yourself. It will
be quite a pious fraud, I am sure, for it will
give Vivian no end of pleasure, and secure
you the advantages that should be yours by
right. And if your husband doesn't letuni,
why, it will be simply invaluable to yon !'
' But — but — how could I manage about —
about— the baby ?' jerked out Regina, after
much hesitation.
' I'll manage that, my dear ; yon must have
nothing to do with it You mustn't appear
in the matter, so as to render after-reoogni-
tion an impossibility.'
' But won't it be very difficult V
' Difficult !' echoed Mrs. General Chase-
more, with a hoarse laneh. ' What, in this
big, overgrown Babylon, teeming with its
hundreds and thousands of wretched little
brats that come into the world.uuwanted and
unwelcome : If I wished for a doaen to-
mor.ow, I could procure them all by noon.
But it requires caution, my dear— great cau-
tion. The child must be newborn, the par-
ents must not know to whom they have sold
it, and they must imagine it is going out of
the country. Then there will be no chance of
their coming in contact with or reoognising it
again. But you know what young babies
are- -all alike ! There will be no difficulty in
the matter at all.'
' I wish I could think so,' said Regina ; *■ ii
would take such a load off my breaat.'
' If that ia the case, think so, and be re-
lieved. I would not deceive you for the
world I Now, just picture it for yourself.
You have not been well all the season. The
heat has tried you, and you feel you will be
better for a change. You go abroad with
me. After a .while, you write home to your
mother, and tell her you have expectations.
We post the letter at one place, and move on
to aputher, without leaving our address.
That is iu case she takes it into her head to
follow and nurse you. Then, Jat the proper
time, we write and say that all is over, and a
few mouths afterward, you return home with
your ohild iu state ! Where is the difficul-
ty?'
' But where shall we get the child ? '
' I have already said leave that to me 1
Selina and I will manajco it between us.
W« may profess to be in Rome,, or the Pyre-
nees, or any iuaucessible place ; but w e need
nut go fartUer than Paris ; and, when ne-
cessary, I can return and taka the infant
over. Yuu can meet me somewhere on the
road, and we will go to some quiet town to-
getber, and pretend we have parted with tha
child's nurse iu a hurry, aud want another.
We will have it baptised and registered
abroad iu your husband'aname, aud the de«;d
will be done. '
THB ROOT OP ALL KVIL.
i.
ItwUl
itwiU
leoure
Dun by
retuM.
jTOU I'
about—
la, •fter
uit have
t »pp««
•reoogni-
alChMe-
, inthU
with its
ed little
giuted and
doaea to-
by noon.
great oau-
the par-
have sold
ug out of
o ohanoe of
K>gDUiinfif it
uug babies
lifficulty in
legina ; ' it
aut.'
and be re-
ou ior the
yourself.
|,iBon. The
[you will be
'iroad with
me to your
;p«ctations.
id move oa
ar address.
[er head to
the proper
over, and a
k home with
[he diffioui-
Ludr
ihat to me I
letwtjen us.
Ir the Pyre-
^ut w • need
when ne-
the infant
Jiere on the
It town to-
led with the
lit another.
1 registered
Ind the detA
'Thev won't make inquiries abont doc-
tors and so forth, will they ? '
'It's not onstomary upon such oouasious ;
bat if you thiak it probable, I shall have my
story ready. You travelled too muoh, and
wbre takeu ill at a roadside iou, all aloue
witlime.'
' How clever yon are I ' said Reinna.
' I believe I am ; but this will be child's
pthy to me. I would go through a much
graater risk than that u) ueoure your welfAre,
B^gina. It seems a shame to me that Viviau
wbose vrhole existence has been one course
of sf (fishness, should enjoy this money for
h^b lifetime, and then leave yoa almoac peu-
nQess — and that for no fault of youi* owu ! '
'It does seem hard, doesn't it? Bub
Ijdon't think it troubles Vivian much.
He is tired of me already. I am sure of
it!'
'Ah, my dear, you'll see the difference
this blessed baby will moke 1 Nothing will
be good enoush for them. You'll be the
most beautiful and charming and angelic
woman in creation, and all you do and say
will be "wisest, disoreetest, virtuest, and
best !" I really think you owe it to Vivian
as well as yourself to procure him this enjoy-
ment. He'll never be the wiser; and "where
ignorance is bliss," you know, " 'tis folly,"
etc., etc. No one well be the worse either,
unless it is that covetous creature the
baronet ; ' and I'd do it to spite him, if for no
better reason.'
'I believe you really wish to help me,'
murmured Regina, ' but it seems a great risk
to run.'
' Oh ! you are faint-hearted over the idea
to-day because it is new to yon, but wait till
to-morrow, my dear, and you'll see it in a
different light. Well, I mustn't stay longer
now, or I shall be locked out of my rooms,
so goood>night, and don't be such a fool
as to have any scruples at out-witting Sir
Arthur.'
Both her friends had left her with the
aam<i warning on their lipa, and their words
rung in her ears through the ensuing night.
What was the feeling that actuated Kegiua
most as she contemplated tne possibility of
carrying out the fraud they had suggested to
her ? Was it altogether tbe idea of securing
(he benefit of Sir Peregrine's fortune for her
life-time, or was it the hope of reviving her
husband's affection for and pride in her, and
of raising her graceful head amongst the
females of her acquaintance, crowded with
the glory of maternity (although a spurious
one) ? I think the Jast arguments had the
greater weight with her. Regina was not so
cold and heartless as she loved to believe
herself, and make others believe her to be.
The touch of a baby's bands and lips might
have moulded her vary differvntly by khia
time, and disappointment and the aatanl
shame which every woman facia at being
jhildless, had had a large share in harden*
iug the character whioh marriage and
motherhood might otharwisa hare oontribnl>
ed to soften.
She lay awake all night, conning over the
feasibility of putting the plan wuoh Mrs.
General Ohasemore had suggested to her
into execution, nntil it seemed to be ths
only way out of the diffioolties that an*
vironed her, and from beins impossible and
not to be thought of,it suddenly assamed an
appearance of the greatest desirability. A
few hours before she had recoiled at the
mere idea of practising such a vast deoep-
tioa ; now she longed to put it into progress
at once, and end her apprehensions and sus-
pense. So easily does the evil spirit that
divides the possession of every human nature
with Heaven gain a victory over the voioe
of conscience and still its remonstrances
with an almighty ' must.'
CHAPTER IL
' CAN WX HOLD OCB TONOVM ? '
Thetwoaroh-oompaniou inthis pretty littla
plot held many a consultation upou ways and
means, whilst they left their victim to brood
over and digest all they had said to her.
For some reason of her own, Mrs. General
Ohasemore declined to meet Selina at her
father's house, but the young lady was her
own mistress, and had every opportunity of
holding appointments with her friends else*
where.
' Of course, I need not tell you that w«
must take every precaution to preserve an
inviolable secrecy in this matter,' said Mrs.
Ohasemore one day, as they paoed together
Deneath the shade of the trees in Hyde Par^
' for our own sakes as well as Regina's — and
the chief question is ' Can we hold oar
tongues ? '
By which she meant, ef course, ' Can yoa
hold your tongue t ' as she looked at Selina
with her big watery eyes.
i^' Well, if we engage in it, I suppose wa
should naturally du that for our own sakes.
I am not sure that, if discavered, it wouldn't
be brought into something like felony. There
was a case of the same sort the other day,
you koaw 1 '
' Ah 1 yes 1 but there the husband prose*
cuted, and Vivian woald never do that. Ha
is as proud as she is. 'J'he only danger of dis*
covery lies with ourselves.'
' I don't fear that at aU,' said Selina.
'^
^
li^
■'f 1|
foo
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIU
*,Wh»t I thiak of |iuo«t, it the ninouiit of
good we thAll g«ir- by iuuirferiug in the
•ff»ir. It u of very little momunt to ua,
after *11, who gete the mooey, «ud Regine
herself wm never any pertiouiar friund of
mine.'
* Perhftpi not I But you like the haionet
fltill leee, if I have anderetood you rightly.
For my own part I am iuteitwiiu^ myeell lu
the matter purely to help poor Kegma. I
know what Vivian ii,and 1 can't help pit) iug
her. And ihe couldn't puMibly uiauage it
bj herMlf.'
' Ho I but ihe ia clever enough to find
plenty of people who would help her I'
' True 1 and thoee people would uorive all
the advantages of kbvpmg her acortst. For
there will be advantages, my dear Seliua I
over and above a nice trip abroad for both of
us. The fact that it is m our power at any
moment to betray her, will gain us a very
substantial fooiiug iu the house, uud a liberal
share in the luxuries we have plauued to
enable her to retain. As it shouia do, for it
is not to be expected that we should risk our
reputation : to so serious an extent and
receive nothing in exchange,' said Mrs. Gen*
eral Chasemore, with the air of a woman
who had a reputation to risk.
' Of course noc, ' replied Seliiia, ' and, as
yon Bay,there must i • ad van Ages in obligiug
a woman with such a oommauU of mouey.
Have you spoken to Regina again about
itr
' Yes ! I was with here last evening, and
we settled that we would leave town together
the end of the month. The soouer it is all
over now, I think the better. Then, if you
ean manage your part of the business and
get ypur papa's consent, you can join us an
soon as it is convenient to yourself.'
' I have no one's consent to ask,' replied
Selina. ' I have long ceased to consult my
father about any of my private arrangements,
and it will only be necessary for me to tell
him I have been invited to join Mrs. Vivian
Chasemore abroad to render all that part
''easy. The only doubt I have is about the
other tMng,'
* if tbere should be auy difficulty on that
■oore, 1 will return to Eagland and fetch it
myself. But the only real fear is lest your
identity stionld be discovered during the
transaction.'
' I will take care of that 1 I know how to
disguise myself so that my own father shall
not recognise me in the street. It is to
whum to apply first that has pnxiled me.
But I have thought of some one.
* Wboisthat?'
* Do you remember my telling you that
when he was searching for Vivian Chase.
more, paps offered a reward of lifty pooikU
in the newspapers to any one who should
give information of his whereabouts T Th«in*
formation came through an anonymous letter
but the writer said that if oorfeot he would
present himself at papa's office later on with
a uupy of tiie letter sent, to prove his iden-
tity and claim the reward.'
' Yes i i think you did tell me so, and I
remarked that I wouldn't have offered fifty
peuce for the scapegrace. '
' ^apa told me that Mr. Chasemore was as
curious as himself to find out who the writer
jf the letter could possibly be ; and when a
month afterwards he culled for the money,
i>e insisted upon first haviug his name and
address. He gave some oame (I forget it
now, but 1 can easily get it out of papa)
which neither he nor Mr. Chasemore had
ever heard of before. They sent to the
address given, however, and verified the
man's story, so they had no excuse fur with*
holding the reward from him, although they
uould not make him confess how he had
obtaiued the information that the avtor
Waverley was Vivian Chasemore. He was
doggedly reserved, and to all their questions
only replied that he had guessed it some*
how.'
' Well, my dear, what has this got to do
with our present business 7 '
' Because I've often heard papa say since
in alluding to that man, that he'a never met
with a mure impenetrable-looking counte*
oauue, aud that if he had auy secret work
to do and wauted a confederate, he is the
persun he wuuld choose. So I thought it
would be a good idea to apply to him.'
Capital ! You couldn't do better 1 And
if he kept his mouth so firmly closed for
lifty pounds, what will he not do for a hun-
dred ? Are you sure you can get at his
name without suspicion ? '
' Sure 1 Papa keeps all his oorrespo •
dence papers at home, and I have continual
access to his keys He generally leaves
them with me when he spends the evening
uut. I shall know the name long before!
need it.'
' It will be better not to apply to this
person too soon.'
* I don't mean to do uo I I suppose a
week will be ample time to give him for his
search. My greatest difficulty is to know
what to do with the creature when I've sot
it'
' My dear, you must bring it straistht to
me I I shall return to England for the oc-
casion. I've quite decided upon tiiat. The
respousibility will be too great for you
alone. But you had better fetch the thing
away. With your smtJl, slight figure you
THE ROOT or ALL EVIL.
101*
bain*
l«it«r
iroald
I with
id«a-
Midi
fifty
ITMM
writer
vheiiA
aoney.
ue and
»rget it
[ p»P»)
>re b*d
to the
led the
ir with*
^hthey
he had
B actor
iie wM
ueetions
t tome*
/
ot to do
lay linoe
)ver met
oounte-
Bt work
. ia the
ought it
im.'
rl And
>«ed for
r a hnn*
at his
rreapo •
oDtinual
leayes
evenins
)efore I
to this
ippoeea
for hia
know
I I've Kot
litcht to
the 00-
Lt. The
Ifor yoa
le thing
[ure yom
tte ao mnoh more easily disraised than Tani.
And when I know means By whioh to keep
it qniet nntil j have rejoined Regina.'
* How nooommonly strange she will feel
with it/ laughed SeUna.
' Oh, she will soon get over that I Bat yon
■net make one very strict condition, Selina I
that the child it perfectly healthy. Don't be
let in for some sio'tly brat who will die af&er
all, and waste both onr time and trooble.'
* Mrs. Obasemore t why run the risk of
eonreying a child over from England?
There roost be heaps of French brats that
wonld answer the parpose 1 '
' No, my dear, there are not ! The
national oharactersstics are too strongly
marked. A French or Italian child might
exoite saspicion at once. The boy must be
Bngliah and bine-eyed. Besides, the Eng-
lish poor are far more likely to part with
their offspring than foreigners. See the
namber of infanticides we have and the way
in which oar ^oandling Hospital is kept
stocked. It is very inconvenient, I own, bat
it is quite necessary that the child should be
transplanted from this country. '
' I shall not mind it ao much since you
have promised to return to assist me ; but I
ooi^ess I felt very unequal to carrying out
that part of the plan by myself.'
The season ended that month, and with
the prorogation of Parliament Regina slipped
away from London with Mrs. General Chase-
more, leaving only a letter behind for her
mother, to say that she felt so ill she had
■nddenly made up her mind to go abroad for
a few weeks' change with a 'lady friend,'
and had no time to call in Kensington before
her departure. Selina, who was ieft in town
was condemned to listen to many a tirade
from Lady William's lips on the iugratitude
of her daushter at not having acquainted her
earlier with her plans.
' No time to call, indeed,' said the irate
mother; 'what a ridiculous excuse for a
woman to make who has a carriafle and a
oonple of horses continually at her disposal I
It really makes me quite ashamed of my
own flesh and blood. And who is this
"lady friend" with whom Mrs Vivian
Chasemore has so suddenly made up her
mind to leave England without even taking
the trouble to say " good-bye" to her poor
mother ? What is her name, Selina Farthin-
gale, and where does she come from ? Please
to tell me that.'
* Indeed I cannot tell you anything, Lady
William 1 Regina has not so much as written
me a note! Why should she? We all
know that fashionable women have their
little fancies on occasions, and' where money
is no obstacle they are likely to gratify them.
I suppose she did go ofT in a great hurry at
the last, and had no time to think of any*
thing.'
* Very pretty behaviour indeod I If sho
wanted some one to aooompany her, why
did't she ask her mother ? A lew weeks'
change would have done me a world of good
as well a« herself. But I am no one, of
course, and never was in Miss Regina's
consideration.*
' I am sure she has been looking very ill
all the season,Lady William.and has lostflesh
considerably. I can't imagine what is the
matter with her,' repliwt Selina, who had
been coached as to what she should say and
do, by Mrs. General Chasemore.
' Fretting after the gentleman in Norway
perhaps,' remarked Mrs. Runnyemde sarcas*
tically. ' That is the way with women.
They never value a thing nntil they've lost
it'
' More likely worrying herself about *' the
missing heir", 'chimed iu Lady William spite*
fully ; ' though cryins never remedied that
evil yet. She had much bitter resign hurself'
to the inevitable with a good grace. '
* I have not heard Regina utter a complaint
on that score lately,' said Selina ; ' and,after
all, Mr. Chasemore's life is as good as her
own.'
' Nn, my dear, it isn't I The lives of no
men are as good as those of women. We
are much the tougher sex of the two, though
it isn't romaniiiu to proclaim it. Hon ever ,if
anything happens to Viviau, Regina must
manage for herself. I can't have her coming
back upon me. Our tastes never did agree
and never will. She was trymg enouKh, I'm
sure, as a girl, and I'm quite afraid to
thiuk what she would be as a married wo-
man.'
' Pray don't talk of such a melancholy con*
tingenoy, dear Lady William. Mr. Chase-
more is the picture of health as a rule, and
we must hope they have both long lives
before tnem.'
' Ah ! you don't know as much as I do,my
dear. Those " pictures of health" are just
the ones to pop off most suddenly, and I've
had a presentiment of evil ever since Regina
was such a fool as to marry without any
proper settlements. '
' But if he does die she'll soon find another
husband,' remarked Selina, with that beauti*
ful uisregard of all that is sanred with which
the young ladies of the present century are
wont to invest the order of matrimony.
Lady William nodded her head oracularly*
' Perhaps she may ; but
it's
not e\rery
woman that gets it second ohane. However,
if Regina does not, it won't be for want of
trying.'
mi
Hi-
Mf
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL
With wbiuh dubious oomplimcnt to h«r
only •born, Lady Willi»m N«ttlMbip reti^rned
to tne oontempUtion of her game of otida.
But about a we«k afterwardii,wh«in Kogiua
kad been a month on the Continent, and
Ladv William and Mra. Runnyme<le were
thinking of betaking their wioke<i lelvea over
to Boulogne or Oetend or lume one of the
cheaper watering-plaoei, where a game of
' bacoarat' or ' rouge et noir' is stiU to be
•njoyed in a strictly quiet way, Miss Far*
tbiugale was surprised by the very unusual
sight of seeing them both enter her quiet
drawing-room.
' My dear Lady William, how verv good
you ! This is a welcome surprise.
' Mv dear, we've just luu over to say
good-bye to you, and to tell you the must
wonderful piece of news. Runuymede and I
kave secured rooms at Ostend, where there's
an excellent Kursaal, and we intended to
■tart to-morrow, but I've reouived a letter
from Regina that's upset me eutirf ly. What
do you tmnk 7 — but yuu'd never guesa — it's
quite impossible. '
' Ooocf news I hope. Lady William 1 Let
me try. Mr. Chasemore is eomiug home
again f'
' As if that would upset any one ! Why,
my dear Selina, you know they dou't care a
■traw fur each other. Oh no ! you're quite
wide of the murk. '
' What can it be ?
money ?'
' Not a bit of it !
•ould to it. But it
Nobody left her any
There is uu one who
means money all the
kme.'
Selina affected to be completely mystified.
'I suppose I must tell yuu after ail.
here are expectations, my dear, of an heir.'
' Oh never !' cried Selina, leaping in her
hair.
' Indeed there are, at least Regina seems
to have no doubt of it, and I dou't suppose
she'd be such a fool as to make the news
public unless she were sure. She says that
this accounts for a great deal of illness and
low spirits for months past, of which she has
never complaiuel to me, and that she is
already feeling better for the welcome pros-
pect.'
' Dear Lady William, how delighted you
must be I Do let me congratulate you and
dear Regina 1 I suppose you will be going
to her at once.'
' I don't know. She does not seem to be
quite sure what she is going to do herself. She
lays the Paris doctors have recommended her
country air, and she is going into the Tyrol
with her friend, whom she calls Mrs. Bro>vn.
low T Did you ever meet a Mrs. Brown-
low in Premier Street, Selina?' ooutinaed
Lady Wdliam, suspioiouslv.
*I m not sore. Yes, I tnink I did once
A nice old lady with white hair. Is that the
same?'
' I cannot tell you. My daavbtar's friends
are not mine. At any rate Regina seems tu
prefer Mrs. Brownlow's company to her
mother's. Did I hear you say that you had
been invited to join my daughter later on,
Selina ?'
* She did ask me to do so— but perhaps
after this news she may wish to postpone mv
visit. She will have other things to think
of besides entertaining any friends. And
Mr. Chiksemore will be returning home,
surely.'
' I don't know. Regina doesn't mention
him, nor the date that she expects thia im-
portant event to take jplftce, nor anything
except the bare fact. 'That is her unpleasant
way you know. She never could write a
satisfactory letter.'
' I suppose her mind was' too full of th«»
important news to think of anything else.
Everything would appear of trival con-
sequence after that! But does she mention
no probable time for her return to . £ug-
Und?'
' Not a word, so I shall alter none of my
plans on her account. I conclude, of course,
that she had written to her husband, and I
hupe he may come home aud look after her
himself. It's bis business and not mine.
But 1 thought I mustn't leave(£ugland with-
out tellinu you of her prospects, though
there's many a slip, you know, 'twixt the
cup and the lip. So, good-bye, my dear,
and should you decide, alter all, to pay
Regina a visit, of course yuu will let me
know.'
To hear Lady William talk one would
really have imagined that she was annoyed,
rather than pleased to hear that her
daughter's ardent wishes were to be at last
fuitiiied. Whether the Vivian Ohasemoree
did or did not have an heir to inherit their
property, could make uo real difference to
her personal interests, but it would deprive
her of the questionable pleasure of lamenting
over her dauK^ter's disappointment and
abusing dead Sir Peregrine for having made
so iuiamous a will. 1 here are some people
— a good many, unfortunately — who cease t«
care for their friends as soon as they are
prosperous. Whilst they are wicked or poor
and can be condemned or commiserated, they
are so much stock-in-trade to them ; but let
1 them once return to the paths of virtue or
Irise above want, and they are no longer
worth talking «bout. Seliua acquiesced in
all Lady William said, although she had not
THB ROOT OF ALL BVIU
Kl
iinorw
thoir
Doe to
deprive
^eotioK
and
made
[people
186 t«
fey are
jrpoor
I, they
Ibut let
rtue or
I longer
peed in
tad not
the leaat intention of acqaainting her with
any of her own plana beforehand.
' It ii 10 raaon raaier to invent what one
haa done than what one is goinft to do/ ihe
deuided in mental cogitation with hereelf.
But the intelligeno* that the drat ihell had
been tired into the enemy's oamp, roused her
to the fact that her tnm for action wonid
arrive before long. ' Regina haa been
euoain){ enoagh, I lee, not to commit heraelf
by nmntionintt any datea : lo that I am to
wait ordere, I auppoae, before I take action
in the matter.'
Nothing ooald have happened more
favnnrably than it had done for the carrying
•at of the contemplated f rand. Mr. Farthin-
gale iuTariably took hi« month's holiday in
Au^uHt, and Selina's 'avowed intention of
shortly joining her friend MnkVirian Cha8e<
more on the continent, was sufficient excuse
for her stayinc behind him in company with
the woman left in charge of the house.
Before his departure, however, she had
obtained the address she oeeded, and with*
out the :<liffhtest difficulty. In days gone by,
when Mr. Farthingale and his daughter had
been closer friends than at present, Selina
hftd Kreatly aided her father's home work by
writing and copying letters 'for him, and he
had ooDtinued the habit of confiding his keys
to her oare whenever he spent an evening
from home. One such opportunity had
proved sufficient for her ; ana amongst a pile
of receipts, doketed by her own hand, she
had found that for the fifty pounds' reward
given for the information of Vivian 0ha8e>
more's address, and signed by 'Joseph
Mason, 8, Victoria Cottetfes, Richmond.'
To Mr. Mason, therefore, she was quite pre-
pared to pay a visit as soon as she received
her cue from Mrs. General Chasemore. It
was not long in coming. Before another
week elapsed she had a note to say her friend
was about to cross to Dover, and would be
ready to join her as soon as she telegraphed
that she had succeeded in her object The
same afternoon, therefore, found Miss Far-
thia((ale on her road to Richmond. She had
boosted to Mrs. Chasemore that she could
disgust herself so that her own father should
not know her in the Btreet,and the boast was
true. No one would have recognised in the
grey -haired, spectical woman in * decent
black,' who took her seat in the Richmond
on.'aibu8 that afttjrnoon, the gay, flaunting
Seli'na Farthingale. She carried her own
latch-key, and had taken care to send the
ehar-woman on a distant errand before she
left home ; so that she slipped up the area*
steps without sny notice being taken of her.
When she arrived in Richmond she had
some little difficulty in finding Victoria
CottagM and it was past six o'clock wh«i
she came apon them, and found Mr. Joeeph
Mason with a choi<bv child on either knm,
eating his supper at his uastle-door. 84>*«
felt that some policy was required in op«,.
ing the delicate business ^he had oome np-
on, and beat about th^ bush accordingly.
' Yon are Mr. JoMuh Maaon, I believa T '
■ho commenced politely.
' Yea, ma'am, that fa« my name,' respond*
ed Mr, Maaon, as he rose to his feet and let
the two youngsters slide down upon th«
floor, where they dung round hit anklat liks
leechea.
' Prav don't let me disturb yon I I am ia
want of a sensible and trustwor.hy person,
Mr. Mason, to assist in a very delicate an«
dertaking, and yon have beeu specially r««
oommenaed to me.'
' Yes ma'am I ' said Mr. Mason, pulliog
his forelock. ' I'm much obliged. I sup-
pose it's rookery, ma'am. I believe I am
thought to be an able and at rockery and
doh-like work.'
' Oh no T it's not rockery. '
' Fancy gardening, ma'am, p'r'aps. I can't
take a jub by the day, just at present, b«:-
cause they're a laying out of the hotel-gar*
dins afresh, and I'm engaged there by the
week ; but I oould give a goodish bit of
time hafter hours, if that would suit you,
till I was free.' ^
' No , my bnsinnss with yon has nothing
to do with gardening.'
Mr. Mason stared. He couldn't imagin*
what other business ho was good for.
' I have been recommended to you by the
firm of Farthingale and Lucas, in the City, as
a very shrewd and able man to do a little job
for me in which I need assistance.'
' Farthingale and Lucas, mum I Be they
the lawyers' (Mr. Mason pronounced it
' liars ') ' as I seed ouce on account of a
friend, now bctter'n two years and more
•go?'
' Yon saw fchem on account of yourself, I
think. You ;eceived a reward of fifty pounds
from them for finding a gentleman they had
lost sight of, und signed the receipt for it.
Don't you ' ^member ?'
' Oh ye . mum, sure ena£r I' responded the
man, reddening to his e&rs like a peony.
' Mr. Farthingale thought you showed S9
much good sense and skill en that occasio^
that he recommended me to come to you to
help me in a little difficulty of the same
sort'
' Another genelman lost ?' said Mr. Maaon
interrogatively. **
' Not exactly. Something ia to be pro-
cured this time. But I cannot speak to yon
f it here. It must be kept a complete
o
.]:'. i
104
THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL.
itwl
wm
I
h .(
!l !
Mortt, •ltd yon will be paid handaomely for
holding your tougtie.'
Mr. Maaon reapooded to thia appeal by
ahoving hia two yoangateni out iato a
baok'^irden, and auppiog the bolt of the
door.
* Yoa'U be aa aafe to apeak here, mam, aa
anywhere, for my good woman'a gone with
the yottogeet to aee her mother who'a bin
took aiok, and there'a no one within call but
them two little 'una*'
' It is beoaufe td the cleTemtoaa yon ahowed
in findios that gentleman that t have come
to yon, Mr. Maaen,' repeated Selina, emphati-
eaily, 'aud beoauae the lawyer said you'
knew ao wftll how to hold yoar tongue.'
* Well, mum, I oan do that when I sees
fit ; and I never waa a man of many words.'
'Just so. loomeon behalf of • a lady, a
foreign oountesa. very rich and good, who
wanta to adopt a little Eoglish boy ; and
she ia willing to give a hundred pounds down
to any one who will proouro her a hdalthy
new-born male infant with fair complexion
•nd blue eyea.'
' A hundred pounds t ' ejrculated Maaon.
' Well, some folks can't know what to do
with their money, mum. A hundred
ponnda I I only wish I had a youngster of
the age, I'd soon bundle 'im off, 1 know !
And when would they require the child,
wuat'
* In a week or two. The countess will
send a person expressly to England to re-
ceive it and pay the money ; but the parents
of the child must understand that it is going
far away, right out of the country, perhaps
to Mexico, and that they will never see it
again.'
* Oh, they're not likely to want to I ' said
Mabon, disposing of that difficulty aa if it
were too absurd to mention. ' The only
question in my eyes is the time. However,
mum, if you'U leave it to me and a fren' as
I've got — a very cute and able man, as has
•Ilaya got hia weather eye open — I fancy I'll
'ave news for you in a few days.'
* But how shall you be able to let me
know!'
* Couldn't you leave your address, mum T '
Bat Selina was too astute to leave e^en &
falae addreas.
' I have none. I return to the countess
to>night, but I can fix a day to meet you
here again. Will this day week do T '
' I've no fear but what we'll have news for
y ftn by that time, mum ; but I wouldn't like
to aak you to oome here,f or though my wife's
a good enough woman in her way, yet they
all have tongues,and precious loug 'uns too I
saving your p'resenoe, mum ; and if she once
hold of * tit' bit like thia here, she
wouldn't rest till ahe'd told it roand Rich-
mond.'
' Oh, that will never do ! Ia there anjr
place in London where I oonld aee yua pn-
vately T'
* vvell,that'8je8t what I was a-thinking of,
mum. Do ye happen to know a tripe ahop
at the comer of Bull'a Coart, jeat a rannia'
out of Long Acre ¥
Selina did not happen to know the aristo-
cratic domicile in question, but she promised
to find it in pursuit of Mr. Mason.
' Well, if you oan do that, mum, my fren'
and I will meet yovL there thia day week,and
talk with ye private over this matter.and say
whether it will be possible to do it at the
price. I s'pose the foreign parties wouldn't
go over a hundred pouncu at a stretch now,
would they ?'
' No, certainly not t' replied Selina, with
decision. She had been warned by Mrs.
General Ohasemore that as soon aa ever the
object of her aearch became known, parental
affection would go up to a premium, and her
abettors would attempt to impose upon her.
' A hundred pounds is more than enough for
a newborn infant.'
* Ay, but you were so particular about the
colour of his hair and eyes, that I thought
there might be a difficulty you see, mum.
And it must be a boy, too I 'Tain't as if the
parties waa willin' to take anythink I'
' Yes, it must be a boy, and a strong,
healthy child into the bargain. Nothing else
will do. So if you think you can't undertake
the job, let me know, and I vrill go else-
where.'
But this threat was too much for Mr.
Mason. He promised faithfully to meet the
lady at the tripe shop in Bull Court on the
day in question ; and Selina wrote word to
her friends that the first step in the trouble-
some business had been accomplished.
CHAPTER III.
1l'j> BKTTKR BRING IT ARTSB DARK.'
When Kit Masters brought home his run-
away wife from the Putney poorhouse, and
learnt, through the rough l?.p8 of the butcher's
wife, of the prospect that lay before her,
surprise at the unexpected intelligence over*
powered for a time all other considerations.
Not that the news afforded him any pleasure.
Like most mean and cruel natures, he hated
animals and children, and, strange to say, in
taking a wife it had never entered his head
to seriously contemplate the probability of
her bringing him a family. Bonnie had
;«w.
THE ROOT OF ALL KVIL.
IM
it round Bioh*
lid
there anjr
yud pn-
rM a-thinking ot,
jnow a tripe shop
t, jeeta nuuun'
know the ariito*
bat she promised
Mason.
A, mnm, my fren'
this day week,and
lis matter.and say
le to do it at the
, parties wouldn't
at a stretch now,
plied Selioa, with
warned by Mrs.
M soon as ever the
e known, parental
premium, and her
I impose upon her.
re than enough for
artioular about the
I, that I thought
y you see, mum.
>1 'Tain'tasifthe
) anythink !'
ly, and a strong,
{ain. Nothing else
ou oan't undertake
dl will go else-
)oo much for Mr.
thfuUy to meet the
Bull Court on the
ina wrote word to
itep in the trouble-
scomplished.
III.
r ABTKft DARK.'
ught home his run*
ley poorhouse, and
l?ps of the butcher's
at lay before her,
d intelligauce over-
her considerations,
d him any pleasure,
il natures, he hated
strange to say, in
r entered his head
the probability of
lily. Bonnie had
thought of it sometimes — ^in the sweet won-
dering way young married women will— as
• misty dream, floatinx somewhere in the
fatnre, bat t srer coming near enoogh to be
realised. She was slower of oomprehension
than most other girls, andhadevennererasked
herself whether the fading of the intangible
rision would prove a disappointment or a
comfort. Bat sne had sense enough to under-
stand all that Mrs. Bell's warning contained
for her in the fntare, and as the grand new
idea sunk down into her breast, and became
established there, it blossomed into a sonroe
of the deepest happiness. But Mr. Masters
viewed the matter in a very different light
It was a hindrance that tied his hands and
forced him to cnrb his temper, and he sulked
with it in consequence. Brute as he was, he
felt that he dared not give Bonnie a blow,
now that the fact of her maternity was patent
to the neighbourhood. The wives of his
aoqnaintance would have risen up in a body
and ' lynched ' him had he laid a hand on
her. So he was compelled to take refuge in
bad temper, and he growled and ^cowled at
the poor child, day uter day, until nothing
bat the prospect of whst was coming to
solace her, could have kept her spirit from
breaking altogether. Her woman friends
were very kind to her at this juncture, and
their sympathy helped to cheer and sustain
her. All true mothers feel an interest in a
girl's first trial, and Bonnie was so simple
and childlike, that they wondered amongsc
themselves how she would ever go through
it all, or be a fit guardian for the little one
when it had struggled into the world. But the
instinct of maternity is great, and it came
to Bonnie's assistance now. The same con-
sciousness of dignity that invests even a poor
little animal surrounded by its young, de-
scended on her youthful head like a slory
and raised her to a level with her fellows.
Her shiftless fingers, which had bo often
called forth a rebuke for laziness from her
old grandmother, learned tc lew and fell
quickly enough when their aid was needed
to manufacture little garments in which to
envelope the coming babe. She no longer
seemed to heed ■■ it's sharp rejoinders for
unintentional offences : even his cruel taunts
on her slow gait and loss of comeliness lost
their power tc provoke her. If she sighed
one moment, she smiled the next, as in an-
ticipation i>he felt the promised child's arms
about her neck, and its kisses pressed upon
her cheek. That any accident could happen
to rob her of the coming blessing, never by
any calculation entered Bonnie's head. Mrs.
Bull had a baby every year, and so had Mrs.
Martin, and several others in the street ; and
all their babies grew fat and strong, and big,
and kicked their chubby legs out at Bonnie
as she passed, and made her thiiA, witk
quickened breath of the dav when she should
carry her own darling in her arms. So the
spring and summer months dragsed them-
selves eway, and the voung mower's step
srew more fingering and slow, and her face
became drawn and thin, and the neighbours
spoke of her time of trial as being very near.
Kit Masters didn't like the stote of thugs at
all. The hollow truce he was forced to main-
tain with his wife had the worst possible
eT^t upon his nature, and every time she
annoyed him he swore inwardly that he'd
pay her double as soon as the affair was
over. A dozen times a day too he would
e've vent to his hope tl^it 'the brat would
I dead before it ever saw the light,' and that
this would be the first ann last time Bonnie
would ever make such a fool of him. He
hadn't mariied a wife, he maintained, to have
her cobblinff at children's smocks half the
day, and be laid up for the other half, and
if she couldn't bestir herself to look after
his comfort, why he must get someone who
would, and that was the long and short of it.
Bonnie had a violent fit of weeping over some
speech of the sort the very day that her little
boy came into the world. Kit had been
scolding her all the mornins, until he made
her so ill that he frightened himself, and ran
off in haste to procure the attendance of
Mrs. BnIL But when after several hours of
sharp suffering, Bonnie heard her baby ciy,
she thought she was rewarded for every pain
this world had afforded her. From that mo-
ment her mind appeared lost to all outward
things except the little creature thai lay in
her arms. She never asked for Kit ; and
though at the in-ntation of Mrs. Bull, h« did
once enter the sictc chamber and look down
with a grunt at the young mother and
her child, Bonnie never raised her eyes to
his during the intervier, but cuddled her
little one closely to her breast, as though
she feared that the glance of its father's
eye micht blisht, and wither it, as it had
blighted all we happiness of her own
heart.
It was at this period that Mrs. Bull
made the round of the neighbours'
hou*es in the little street in Dmry Lane,
eivinff it out as her opinion that
Kit Masters was jjust the 'most un-
nateral ill-feelin' creetur ' she had ever met
with.
' D'ye think he's took that poor babby in
'is arms, or even so much as noticed it, Mrs.
Martin,' she said to the sympathising cob-
bler's wife. 'Not 'e— the brute! '£'d
never 'ave entered the room if I hadn't
kind of shoved 'im in. And then 'e 'adn't
101
THB BOOT OV ALL EVIL.
po.>r d«*r — ^Dot
And 'e doM
If that poor
» word to My to the
oi thauka, nor noffio.
auaght bat worrit 'er.
iuueroent hopoiis 'is moath even, e's down
apon 'em both, and loreemin' to 'er to
■het 'inn np ; and 'e gmmblne at 'er| bein'
hupetairs and not fit to work, as if a gal
ooiild beldownobud abont when her babby'i
not four days old. Lor' 1 Mrs. Martin, ma'am
I'm tare I ofien ouMcd Ball in my 'art at
sioh times, and I detsay yoa've done the
same byyoar'n,bat I'll never do itagen, not
if I Uvea to makeup my baker's dozen. Bat
Bonnie don't seem to take no notice of 'is
goin's on, that's one comfort I She lies there
all day, smilin' at the yonng 'an, and talkin'
and cooin' to it, while 'e's a-swearin' and
cassia' down below, and a-wishin' they was
both andergroand, till 'twoald make yo{ir
blood carle in yoar veins to listen to 'im. '
' 1 wonder it don't kill the pore gal I'
ejaoalated Mrs. Martin, who had had her
share of connnbial oaffing and abase.
' Bless yoa ! she don't seem even to hear
it 1 She's as wrapt ap in her boy as a oat
over her kitten.'
* Bonnie was always a bit soft,' remarked
the cobbler's wife. * 1 doubt whether she'll
make a good mother.'
' Let 'er alone 1 she'll do well ena£F, I
warrant. There ain't too much love in this
world, Mrs. Martin, and it no use blamia'
them as can feel it. But I pities the poor
child when 'e gets old enuff for a wippin'.'
And meanwliile, Bonnie, ignorant and
fearless of dan^er^lay in her bed and cooed
to her new-found son.
On the day and at the hour appointed,
Selina Farthingale found her wav to the
tripe-shop at the corner of Bull Court, and
met Mr. Joseph Mason and his friend. She
did not like the air of mystery and mutual
understanding with which the bo wsy mistress
of the tripe-shop ushered her into the greasy
back parlour* nor the looks of the ' cute '
fentleman (no less an one than Mr. Kit
lasters) to whom Mr. Mnson introduced
her , but she remembered for her comfort
that she was offeotually disguised, and that
if the interview resulted in nothing she
would not be compromised. So she tried to
make herself as affable as possible under the
eircumstacces. The whole of the concocted
story which she had toll Mr. Mason had to
be gone through again for the beneht of Mr.
Masters, who listened to it with one eye
closed and a huge stick thrust into his
mouth.
' Que hundred pounds 1 ' he repeated, as
his friend had done before him. ' And you're
authoriaed to pav that theer som down on
the oally mam, if so be yoa «an get what yoa
want?'
'Jastsol Thenumiay is at home, safe
enoaah, and when the mfant ia handed over
I sbaU pay it down in cash.'
Kit Masters drew a long breath of relief.
' I knows the kid as wiU suit to a T,' he
said, slappiog his thighs with his iiand.
' Do you really t Is it a l»iy T How old
is it ? Has it blue eyes and a !air skin ? '
'It's hevery think as you could desire,
mum, and 'ealthy as can be — screams like a
two-year-old ; I oughc to know for it lives
dose anigh my 'oase.'
' \nd do you think the parents can be per-
suaded to part with it t It must be for ever,
remember I '
' I knows the father, and I fancy 'ell listen
to reason fast ena£ But if I brings you
the child, mum — say to«morrer artemoon, to
this ere place — will you guarantee to have
the shiners with you, and make a fair ex-
change f '
' Ce rtainly I will ! I shall not expect to
have the child unless 1 do ! But — but— will
it ma ke a great noise, do yon think 1 WiU
it be much noticed as i carry it through the
street ? '
Kit Masters laughed hoarsely.
' I'll take care it shan't trouble you, mam.
It shall have a drop of summat to quiet it
afore it comes 'ere.'
' Oh I mine you don't hurt it I'
' 14 ever you fear 1 The youngster as I've
got my heyes on won't kick for a drop of gin,
1 11 warrant that I But I'd better oring it
arter dusk. What do you say, mum, to
eight o'clock sharp to morrow evening in this
worry place ?*
' I will be sure to be here,' replied Selina,
who, now that she had really accomplished
her purpose, felt very nervous about the
issue.
' Twenty-five of them shiners is for me,
Kit,' observed Joe Mason confidentially,
as the two men shuffled out of her pre-
sence.
' Well, I s'pose they must be as that was
our bargain ; though it's a deal too much for
your share of the job.'
' You'd never 'ave 'card of it if it 'adn't
been for me,' observed Mr. Mason, aggrieved-
' True for you, old feller,and yoa managed
the other business neat enuff, and so we'll
say no more about this one. A hundred
pounds 1 Fancy that 1 Blest iC I ever
thougbt a family was sich a paying consam
before I'
Selina ttilegraphed at once to her friend
Mrs. GtouerAl Chasemore, who was larking
about I
nextafi
ed parJ
to accc
Court.
•rill
room 01
less we
ofus. j
you hav
with yoi
infant oi
bundle i
if yoa ji
'And
it off m)
'Comi
own, reE
them, j
I have fa
of a dau;
I return
the poor
have nai
grandohi
my story
•Andi
'Yesl
fuestiona
M I hai
specially
any one J
at once
Regiua a
wait my i
•Andt
'Then
dear, but
smuggle (
the ion be
' But h<
•Ohl t
me! untij
may yell
the iun ai
a ad come
very ill t
them. Tl
that she 1
medioalai
to nurse
ready and
dear. Th
missing, a
formed th«
that I am i
premature!
'SnaUy
• Only fo
•n to the
f rooure a n
atory we ii
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
i«r
,(
iifn on
MtyM
ed over
( relief.
ft T.' he
d.
ow old
int'
desire,
IS Ukea
it lives
nbeper-
forever,
illlisteu
Dgs you
Tkoon, to
to have
» fair ex-
expect to
but— will
kl WiU
rough the
on, mum.
M quiet it
terasl've
rop of gin,
bring it
mum, to
ing in this
ed Selina,
omplished
about the
is for me,
tdeutially,
her pre-
ithat was
I much tor
it 'adn't
laggrieved-
maoaged
Id ao we'll
hundred
lit I ever
ig oonsam
Iher friend
lurking
about Dover, to oome up to Londoii,and the
next afternoon thev met in the now-desert-
ed park. But airs. Chasemore refused
to accompany the. younger lady to Bull
Court.
' I'll meet yon in the Oharing Cross waiting-
room or anywhere you like,my dear, bnt the
less we are seen together the better for both
of us. Now 1 don't be nervous, Selina. All
you have to do it to carry a goodsixed shawl
with you, and wrap the child well in it. An
infant of a few days old makes a very small
bundle after all, and no one will notice you
if you just walk quietly through the street. '
' And as soon as I reach you, you will take
it off my hands?'
' Completely 1 I have had babies of my
own, remember, and know how to manage
them. I have already told my landlady that
1 have been called away to the lying-in bed
of a daughter who is in extreme peril. When
I return with an infant in my arms and say
the poor mother's dead, she 11 only think I
have naturally taken charge of my own
grandchild. Trust me, my dear, for making
my story good.'
' And shall you leave England to-morrow V
' Yes 1 by the first boat. If any one
questions me I shall maintain the same story
as I have told the landlady ; bnt unless
specially unlucky I am not likely to meet
any one I know. From Calais I shall travel
at once to Normandy, where I have left
Regiua at a very out-of-the-way place to
wait my return.'
'And then!'
' Then comes the most di£Scult part, my
dear, but I have no fear of failure. I shall
smuggle the infant amongst my wraps iuta
the inn bedroom, and there keep it quiet '
'But how?'
' Oh ] there are ways and means, trust
me ! until the middle of the night, when it
may yell if it likes. The rough people of
the inn are not likely to wake. If they do
and come to the door, I shall say madam is
very ill and I cannot leave her to admit
them. The next morning I shall anDouuce
that she has had a child. If they propose
medical aid or assistance, I shall say I intend
to nurse her myself. I have everything
ready and prepared to deceive them, my
dear. There is not a link in the chain
missing, and they have been already in-
formed that such an event is expected, and
that I am in great fear lest it should happen
prematurely.'
' Shall you stay there long ?'
* Only for a fortnight or ao, and then move
•n to the South of France where we can
f rooure a nurse for the infant and tell what
story we like. I have gone over the business
a«(ain and %gaio, and cannot see any chance
of failure. The most important thing is lo
keep Lady William in ignorance of the events
till the infant is some weeks old, and I have
arranged for that also.'
' How will yon manage it ? She will be
so awfully offended if she does not get the
very first intelligence.'
' I shall wr ' ) after a few weeks and give
her all the derails, and say that Begin* was
wandering for the first fortnight and quite
unable to tell me her mother's address, and
my head was so completely addled with fear
and anxiety that I couldn't think of any plan
by which to procure it. At the same time
we shall have the infant baptised and the
birth announced in all the papers, so that the
news may reach Mr. Vivian, for his wife has
no idea of his address.'
' Papa may have I He is Mr. Chasemore's
solicitor, you know, but I have not heard
him mention it.'
' Well,<imy dear I it will be time enough to
ask when we require it. As soon as I reach
Begina again, I ahall telegraph to yon to out
off your visit without assigning a ireason. —
This will raise cuiiosity, and pave the way
for what will follow Then when we reach
the South of France, you will join us as
arranged.'
' 1 understand perfectly. And now, as it
is close upon the time of appointment, I had
better go and fetch this important baby.
What do I look like Mrs. Chasemore?
WouM any one recognize m<^ ? '
' I'd defy tliem to do it 1 Your grey wig
and spectacles give you the appearance of
a woman of sixty, I should say you were a
respectable head-nurse if I were asked. And
your veil is so thick it completely hides your
features. Have you got the notes ? '
' Safe in my purse. Shall we go together
as far as the Charing Cross sttttion ?'
' Yes ! there will be no harm in that I But
take care these men don't follow you or set
some one to do so. If you have any suspicion
of it, come straight to the waiting-room and
tell me, and we'll shape our course accord-
ingly.'
• I fancy they are houest in their way,
said Selina, ' and would scarcely like, any
more than ourselves, to be mixed up publicly
in snoh a transaction. '
* Very good 1 but you cannot be too
cautious. They might have a dozen reasons
for not wishing to lose sight of yon. But if
they watch you to the station and I take the
child, it will be easy enough for yov to make
such changes in the waiting-room as shall
prevent their recognizing yon as you go out
again. '
*I have provided for that,' replied Se-
4.*':'., ,
108
THB ROOT OP ALL EVIL.
lioA. M ah« held np a h»nd-lMig. eontain-
ing» few neoeMMies to alter her appear-
tnot.
Kit Maiters and J(te Mawm were pdnctaal
to their appointment, and a« Selina entered
the back parlour of the tripe shop, th<> former
roae to his feet and openwl a bundle which
he carried in hie arms. Misa Farthingale
was no judge of new-born babies, but as she
examined the little creature breathing peane-
fully beneath the flaring ganlight she could
not help seeing that it was a healthy-looking
pinky thing, with two red fista doubled up in
its mouth and a head covered with a species
of fluffy tow.
' Theer 'e is, mum, as fine a babby as
you'd see on a summer's day, honly four
days' h<ild — straight-limbed, good lungs,
quiet sleeper, and with a monstroue haft-
petite. I warrant 'e'U turn out a credit to
any party as t%kes keer on 'im and gives 'im
plenty to heat.'
Mr. Masters spoke as if the baby were a
dog or any other animal for sale, and, to do
him justice, his own education and breeding
had not been such as to enable him to regard
it in any higher light.
• I see — a very nice little baby. Here is
tlie money, and I'd better take him before
he wakes up and cries,' said Selina nerr-
ously.
' Don't you be afraid, mum,' replied Kit
Nftsters, "e's safe for the next two hours. I
give 'im a drop of daffy to soothe 'im off
afore I came. '
He carried the roll of bank-notes to the
gaslight, and counted them deliberately.
' One, two, three, four, five six, seven,
height, nine, ten — ten ten's a hundred !
Thanky, mum, it's hall right and the bar-
gain's complete. I
He placed the sleeping infant in her arms
as he spoke, and with a rough jerk to his
cap, in which act of courtesy he was follow-
ed by his friend, slunk out of the room as if
I well ashamed of himself, as indeed he had
need to be. ^
Selina wrapped the plaid shawl she had
carried over her arm, all round the rather
dirty bundle which she had just bargained
for, and. with a palpitating heart, passed out
into teopen air. But she need not have
be«)n alarmed. The tripe shop was full of
0U8tomer8,and no one ever looked up at her
as she brushed by them, nor noticed what
■he was carrying. She glanced right and
left as she gainml the pavement, but could
see nothing of the men who had just left her,
and so hailed the first cab that she met,
and jumping in was driven to the Char-
ging Cross station. There, in 'the waiting-
room, was Mrs. General Chasemore, but they
met withont any bustle as they had agrteJ
upon.
'All right? whispered Mrs. Chasemor^
as they sat down side by ride in a remote
comer of the large room.
'Quiteri^htl Here it is I Take it. I
want to go into the dressing-room before waj
one notices me.'
She placed the child on her friend's lap,
and passed at once into the inner apartment^
None of the passengers had had time to look
at her, and, when sne emerged again,she was
completely altered. The grey wig, spectacles,
and veil, were in her hand ba^. Several
artificial roses had been hastily pinned in her
bonnet, a crimson tie was knotted round her
throat, and she was Selina Farthingale again.
Leaving the station thus attired and without
the child, it would have been a elever scont
who would have known her for the elderly
woman who had completed the bargain in the
tripe shop.
* You'd better keep these,' she whispered,
putting her bag into Mrs. General Chasemore's
hand. ' They may be useful to yon while
crossing to-morrow. '
' You sharp girl ! So they will ! But I
must go back to my lodgings now and see if
I can ^t some assistance for the night
with this little wretch. I shall be worn out
else.'
' Will it be safe f
'\^uiteso! The landlady only knows me
as Mrs. Jackson, and this will be my grand-
child— my poor dear daughter's last g'it to
me. I forgot to get an onion though for the
weeping businesp. Do I look altogether too
jolly for a bereaved mother?'
' You don't look a bit like yourself,' re-
joined Selina, and indeed it was true, for
Mrs. General Chasemore had also smoothed
down her curling front of golden hair and
I rubbed the rouge off her cheeks and other-
I wise tried to make herself look as respect-
\ able as she could, which, when done, waa
I not much.
I The confederates then parted, and Selina
Farthingale, with'a much lightended heart,
returned in her own character to her father^*
house.
On that very afternoon, about five o'dook
Mrs. Bell had stepped over to Masters' to
see how her patient was getting on, and if
she were ready for her tea. She fonnd
Bonnie very happy and comfortable, lying is
bed with her little boy, but apparently not
much disposed to partake of her usual
meal.
'This will never do,' cried Mrs. Bull
authoritatively. ' Yon should be gettin' up
THE ROOT OV ALL EVIU
I«
hMtmor^
a ninot*
kke it. I
before tatj
lend's Up,
iparttnent^
ae to look
iOfthe WM
■pectftolet.
Severn
ined in her
round her
igsle again,
ad without
ever eoout
he elderlj
rgain in the
whispered,
;!hMemore's
you while
U ! But I
r and see if
the night
be worn out
y knows me
my grand*
Mt g'it to
lugh for the
gether too
|un«lf,' re-
true, for
smoothed
hair and
land other-
respeci-
done, was
and Selina
ided heart,
Iher father^t
fiyeo'doek
I Masters' to
on, and if
)he found
|>le, lying in
|»arently not
her usual
Mrs. Bull
gettin' up
« tine happetite now, Bonnie, and'ow do you
think that theer boy's a.goin' to thrive if you
don't relish jova vitteb. Come now,let me
raise yon a bii, and jest you eat your bread
and butter and drink your tea. I oan't leave
you for the night till you've taken nourish-
menta'
' But I'm so sleepy,' replied Bonnie with
half dosed, heavy Uded eyes, but a smile of
eontenlment passed over her face while that
seemed to say she ' cared for nothing but to
lie here and be happy. 'I don't know bow
it is, but I feel as if I coulA't raise my head
for ever so. And baby seems almost as
bad.'
' What have you bin a bavin' since I was
here, then?' demanded her friend suspici-
ously.
' Nothin' but a drink of milk. Kit came
home about an hour ago loI gave it to me.
And a drop of the medicine the doctor left
for me. He said I'd better take it-'
'Then I wish as Kit would beamindin'
of 'is own business, for theer was no call for
you to take more of that stuff, and if physio
ain't wanted it's worse than none. Don't
you be persuaded to drink any more on it.
I'll tell you if it's necessary.'
No, I won't drink any more,' said Bonnie
in a drowsy tone.
' 'Ow's the youngster gettin' on !'
The girl roused herMlf a little at this
question.
* Oh, beautiful ! Just see how his hairs'
a-growing — quite yeiler like mine I And I've
found sich a funny little thing on his ear 1
Look, now I Jest like a pea, ain't it ?' and
she turned the child round, and showed the
mark, as she spoke.
' So it be,' acquiesced Mrs. Ball. ' That's
ourus, too,for I mind Mrs. Martin's youngest
but one havin' jist sich another, ooly her'n
was red colour, and this is white. That's
what we call a "pig ear" down our part of
the country, Bonnie. 'E'U be a glutton, that
boy of youin, as sure as 'e lives.'
* He's a little glutton already,' said the
proud young mother, as she folded him to
her breast ' But it's more than I feels to-
night, Mrs. BulL I couldn't touch that tea
for ever so. It quite makes me sick to look
•tit.'
* Well, I'm disappointed, that's what I ami
and you gettin' on so nicely, too I I think
we must give you a little more hair to-morrer,
Bonnie. This room's unkimmon close, and
has a queer physicky smell about it. I can't
stay with you longer now 'cause Bull's wait*
ing for his tea ; but Masters will be in afore
long, and if you can relish summat sfore you
goes to sleep for the night, 'e must get it for
you.'
' All right! 1 ' said|BoBnie inarticulately, as
her friend rose to leave the room.
' Well, they're main sleepy, the pair on
'em,' thought Mrs. Bull as she returned to
her lord and master. * However, 'tis as
good as food for 'em any day.'
She heard no more ot Bonnie or her
goingvon that evenins, and concluded all
was right with her little neighbonr. But aa
she and Bull, after a hard day's work of sell-
ing and buying and oleanins up, were about
to retire to their well-earnea reitt, they were
startled by hearing a long pieroing soreims
proceed from a house close by. Drunken
cries and brawls were very common, as haa
been said before, in that dirty little street :
but there was something in the tone of this
that arrested Mrs. Bull's hand on
its way with a hair-brush to the back of her
head.
' Bull I ' she exclaimed, ' whatever is
that? '
' Dunno, I'm sure, Hann. Public 'onse
bein' turned out, ma> be.'
' No, that ain't a drinkin' voice — its fear.
Throw me over my eownd agen. Bull, for, aa
sure as my name's Hann, that scream came
from Bonnie.'
' From Master's gal T Don't you be fool-
ish now 1 You're never-a-goin' out agen at
this time o' night 7 ' '
* But I ham. Theer's summat wrong over
theer, I'm sure on it : and 1 can't rest till I
go and see. Come with me. Bull, for the
love of God I '
The woman was so excited that her husband
caught the infection of her fear, and rad
across the street with her to Kit Master's
house. But the first person they encountered
was that gentleman himself, standing serene-
ly on the threehold of his domain.
' Whatever is the matter with Bonnie,
Masters T ' exclaimed Mrs. Bull, breathless-
ly. ' I 'eerd her voice right over to our
'ouse. What have you bin a-doiu' to 'er ? '
* I ain't done done nothin',' returned the
man sullenly ; ' but she's took no with one
of 'er lits of bolten' and gone down the
street like a madwoman.'
' Gone down the street ! ' cried Mrs. Bull,
' and at this time o' night I Mercy on us !
What had she on ! '
' Preciuus little, I fancy, except a cloak.
She flew one of the 'ouse afore I could catch
!Tt
'er.'
:E !
* She must be out of 'er mind haltogether.
And to leave the poor babe, too I Where is
it?-
'Oh, that ain't heer.'
' Ain't heer ! The baby gone ? Why,
who's took it? Masters, you've 'ad a 'and
in all this, I can see, and you'd better make
110
THE ROOT OF ALL BYIL.
' And ain't you tk-aoinfi;'
' Wheer's the cood ! I si
a olaan breMtof it, if yoa don't wants to
have the perhoe set arter yon. '
'The perlice! What are you allays
stnffin' the perlioe down my throat for?
Can't a man do what 'e likes with 'is own ?
If you wants to know the truth, here ic is.
I oan't stand the noise and the bother of a
brat a-saaealing in my ears night and day,
and so iVe pat the youngster out to uuss ;
and Bonnie she ohoose to take on about it
and oheek me, and then she bolted down the
street afore I could stop 'er.'
' Aad ri^t, too, if you've robbed 'er of 'er
baby. What call 'ad ^ou to take a four-
days' old oreeture out of its mothet's breast
to turn it over to strangers ? Ugh 1 you un-
nateral beast ! And maybe you've killed
'em both, for it's my belief Bonnie will never
get over sich a trubble. '
' Cau't 'elp it, if she don't. She's gone a
nice way to kill 'erself now ; but she allays
was a fool '
arter 'er ?
good ! 1 suppose when she's
tired of ruanin' she'll come ome agen.'
' If she ain't brought 'ome ou a stretcher —
thouch much you'd keer if she was ! Where's
the child now ?'
' Ah, don't you Mrish I may tell yer ! so
that she might go a-botherin' arter it every
day, iustead of attendin' to 'er doolies. It's
■ara enough, and it's well look keer ou ; and
that's all she'll know of it until I ciioose to
teU 'er.'
' And you a-goin' to leave that pour gal
outtiu' about the streets all night with her
'ead a-fire, while you sits at 'ome, I s'pose.
Gome ou, Bull ! it makes me sick to look at
'ini. We've 'ad our quarrels, but you've
never biu as bad as that, old man. That
poor sick creeture'U die now, na sure as sure ;
and all I 'opes is that her death may be
brought 'ome murder to that man's door !'
Bus Mrs. Bull's wish was never gratified.
Nor did the inhabitants of the little street iu
Drury Laue ever set eyes on poor shiftless
Bonnie a^^ain. From the night on which she
awoke, half stupefied with the opiate her
husband had administered to her, to find that
he hud rubbed iier of h^r child, Kit Masters
never was troubled with the sight of bis poor
wife. A few inqmries were set on foot by the
aeigLbours, but they brought forth uo fruit ;
and the general opiuion amongst the women
was thati Masters iiad made away with both
Bunuie and ber baby, aud buried their bodies
beneath his floor. Consequently he was very
t generally shunned, although his behaviour
lad little effect upuu him beside making him
. let hi& shop, and ^o aud live with his father
aud mother at Richmond.
And for a luug fviiilu faithful Mrs. Bull
would watch and wait for the reappearance
of the girl sh« had loved to succour : but
Bonnie's violet ^ea and sweet, dreamy face
were never seen in the little street iu Drury
Lane again.
CHA.P££R IV.
' AUtO NOW WHIBB IB MT. BOY ? '
When Vivian Chasemore made up his mind
so suddenly to aMompany his fnend Lord
Charlesford to Norway, he left an address, to
which to forward bis letters, with his solioi^
tor. Not that he had any notion that his wife
would write to him, or an^ wish to hear from
him. The cruel words which she had spoken
relative to having married him for his money
had sunk so deep into his heart, that he be-
lieved no after-conduct on her pare could ever
have the power to erase them. Any truce
that might take place between them here-
after must be a false and hollow peace, main-
tained for the benefit of society, and which
could bring no comfort to hia wounded spirit.
So he felt little anxiety to communicate with
her, aud only longed to put the greatest
distance possible between himself and home,
and to try aud forget all that was going on
there.
Lord Charlesford preferred yachting along
the coasisof Finland and Norway, and living
(when he di. go ashore) amongst the
peasantry of the country ; and Vivian was
quite ready to second his friend's wishu an£
avoid the paths of civilisation altogether.
Consequeotly, after the first visit paid to the
post-town where he had ordered his letters
and papers to be sent, he did not see it
again, bi^t followed his friend's fortunes
wheresoever the bonnie yacht * Thisbe ' took
thnm, aud lived for several months of summer
weather a pleasant sort of gipsy life, half
aboard and iialf ashore, diversiiying his taste
of salt water with inland fishing and shooting,
and with studying the manners and customs
of a much unknown and very interesting
people.
Everard Selwyn was perfectly happy, or
he would nave been so, had he not guessed
that Vivian Chasemore was suffering mental
tortures even while he laughed and talked as
loudly as hia fellows, and scorned the notion
of fatigue ur ennui . Lord Charlesford was a
generous, upi-n-hearted young nobleman, with
plenty of Euglish pluck and energy, and
plenty of money to oack it ; so that had it
mot been for the worm of disappointment
gaawingaeoretly at poor Vivian's heart, there
could hardly have been found a merrier or
more united trio of voyagers in the wide
world.
TSB Root Of ALL EYIL.
Ill
pearanoe
ir ; bat
tmy face
in Drury
yV
ihismiud
end Lord
ddreM, to
bii solioi^
it his wife
hear from
m1 spoken
bia money
lat he be-
oould ever
:\.Dy truce
hem here-
laoe, main*
knd which
ided spirit,
licate with
le greatest
And home,
» going on
liting along
and living
lougst the
'ivian was
wishes ani
sdtogeiher.
id to the
[his letters
not see it
fortunes
lisbe ' took
of summer
life, half
ig his taste
shooting,
id customs
iteresting
bappy, or
at guessed
ling mental
talked as
I the notion
If ord was a
Bmau,with
|ergy, and
»t had it
bpointment
Leart, there
1 merrier or
the wide
Dr. Morton's croaking prophooiesof the
dilapidated condition of Vivian a lungs proved
utterly fallacious. They had endured a
severe attack of inflammatioa,aad been rather
tender for a few weeks afterwards ; but the
young man was strong and vigorous, with
a good hardy British constitution, and could
have stood the assault of many more such
attacks with impunity. The unworthy fear
of future penury which had induced Begina
to carry out her wicked plot for deceiving
her husband and defrauding Sir Arthur of
his rights, had no cause for springing from
Vivian's present atate of health, for he be-
came stronger than he had ever been in the
bracing air of If arway and from the effects
of his sea voyage.
He grew so Drown and healthy-louking
that Selwyn was almost tempted sometimes
to believe that tne agonized expressions of
despair, which he had been called upon to
listen to durins his friend's illness, had been
the offspring of a fevered imagination, rather
than the utterances of conviction. But now
and again the knitted brow,clo8ed teeth, and
look of pain that would pass over Vi^an's
oouateoance, even in their gayest moments,
told him that the spirit still suffered, what-
ever the body was determined to conceal.
Things had being going on in this manner
for about six montui, when the fast-increasing
oold.of autumn warned Lord Charlesford that
the season for yachting was over, and they
had better fix upon some resting-place fur the
winter months. He had two plans in his
head. Should they lay up the 'Thisbe' for the
winter months in harbour at Norway, and
spend their time between Christiana and
Stockhold ; or run south to Paris aud Berlin
^r should they return to England at once
and make another voyage out with the next
spring ? Vivian voted for remaining where
they were. What was the ((ood of ^igland,
he averred, in the winter season, when the
country was a mixture of mud and snow,
and London completely empty ? If the Nor-
wegian and Swedish capitals n^id not afford
them sufficient amusement, they could easily,
as Charlesford had suggested, run over to
Paris for awhile and return when they had
had enough of it. But wlu^tever they did
let them remain out of England. He urged
Selwyn to back his choice. But thn young
actor was hU guest and did nut choose to take
advantage of the fact. He remained neutral
and Vivian had to do a double share; of ar-
gument on his own account.
Lord Charlesford was quite willing to ac-
cede to his request (though he did remark
that his old mother would be very much cut
up if he missed spending Christmas at home)
so it was finally arranged that their hrst
halting place should be Christiana, where*
upon the head of the * Tliisbe ' was turned
in that direotion, and within a few days they
found themselves there. This was the post
town to which the young men had directed
their letters and papers to be sent, and there
was quite an assortment of news brought
them to their hotel the same evening. Vivian
toMcd over his letters carelessly. They all
seemed more or less official : at all events
the one handwriting that held any interest
for him was not amongst them. Not that he
had expected to see it. B«gina's pride, he
felt convinced, would never permit her to
make the ' amende honorable ' to hira, and
even were she to do so, what would be the
use of it ? No contrition for tiie past nor
Eromises for the future could undo what she
ad done, which was to reveal her it ue heart co
him. He cast the letters to one side in a heap
aud took up the ' Times ' instea'i, beginning
with the last news sent outinsteadof uie first.
What made him cast his eye over the list of
births he never knew. It \/m not his habit,
any more than that of other n?en to feel any
interest in the ' Ladies' column,' but as ue
folded the sheet his own name in capitals
caught his sight and arrested his attention .
It is wonderful how soon we can pick out a
name familiar to us from amongst doaens of
strangers, and his was an uncommon one*^
At first he wondered who could bear the
same cognomen ; then, as he
graph more attentively,
to his astonishment that it
self, and no one else, who
therein.
'On the second of September, at the
Hotel Vache, Pays-la-reine, Normandy, the
wife of Vivian Chasemore, Esq., of 3
Premier Sireet, Portland Place, of a son, pre-
maturely. '
* Good Ood I ' exclaimed Vivian aloud,
as the foregoing announcement made it-
self apparent to his senses ; ' it must be a
heax.
'What's a hoax, old fellow,' said Lord
Charlesford ; ' nothing wrong, I hope I '
' No ! I suppime not ! but there's some*
thiug here about — about my wife I '
' Your wife I ' echoed his friends
simultaneously, Knowiag Mrs. Vivian
ChasKiiiure as they thought they did, and
that the married couple were not on
the most affectionate terms, both their
minds had at once leapt to the fear of a
scandaL
' What is it, Vivian ! Do speak,
said Selwyn auxioasly. 'She's not dead,
is she T What are you staring at that co-
lumn for ?
read the para-
he perceived
was really hiui-
was mentioned
I,! i'
IP
SBSbMMHP- '
112
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
' Oh ! no 1 it's nothing to mako a foM
•boat — bat — bat iho'i sot a baby I '
* Hft ! hft 1 ha I' roared Lord Cbarleiford,
' ii that all T and didn't yoa ezpoot it, old
boy t What a lark I Thii oomea of married
iqen running off on yaohtios expediti ina and
leaving no addreaa behind them. I hope ic'a
the right lort, eh ?
Yei I— a ion— at lea«t the paper sayi so.
I aay, Selwyu, thia aeeme very queer to me. '
< 1 daresay it does, old boy, bat we've
been knocking about so long, ynn know ;
there was no means of getting at the Utfws
before 1 Look at your letters, Vivian 1
There is sure to be oomething about it
tkere.'
Vivian turned quickly to his pile of
eorrespondence, and examined it until he
came to an envelope in a feminine hand-
writing with a foreign post- mark. He
frowned as he caught sight of it. ' Surely
I have seen that hand before,' he thought.
And the contents confirmed his suspicion.
' Hyeres, September 30th.
•Mt dbar Vivian,
' I appose, after the last interview we
had together, that you will not be very
much pleased to hear from me, but as there
is no one else to write to you, and it is im-
portant you should learn what has taken
place, I am compelled to ruu the risk of in-
curring your displeasure. I happened to be
staying at an out-of-the-way little town in
Normandy, about three weeku ago, called
Pays-la-reine, when the woman of the hotel
requested my assistance for a lady who had
been taken suddenly ill in the night. Fancy
my astonishment when I found it was poor
dear Begina ! She had wandered over to
Pays-ls'i'sine in search of solitude with a
lady friend, a Mrs. Brownloiv,who had been
obhged to leave her the same day, and the
disappointment, I suppose, upset her. How-
ever, all went well, and she is the mother of
a tine little boy. I am sorry to tell you,
however, that Kegina was too feverish and
light-headed afterwards that we were obliged
to keep her very quiet, as we could procure
no medical assistance. Indeed it was most
fortunate I was there (notwithstanding yonr
unkind prohibition, my dear Vivian), or I do
not think your poor wife would have got
over it. I nursed her carefully, and as soon
as she was able to be moved, we came on to
Hyeres. I have written to Lady William to
come to her daughter (as, after what you
said. I do not suppose you would wish me
to rumain with her longer than is necessary),
and when she does so I shall reaign my
cki . ge. Regina begs m« to tell you th*t the
little boy has blae eyes and fair hair, and
that she has had him baptised by the namrs
of " Vivian Peregrine," as she believed they
wonld have been yuar choice. As soon as
her mother arrives *he intends to return to
Premier Street for the winter. She sends
yon her love, and will write as soon as she
feels equal to the exertion. Relieve me, my
dear Vivian, to be your much maligned step-
mother,
' CUABLOTn CHAaiMORl.'
Under other oiroumstanoes, to hear that
Mrs. General Cbasemore was actually living
in the same house as his wife, would hava
driven Vivian nearly wild, but he did not
knew what to say to this letter. It was
impossible to upbraid or^even not to think of
the woman who had befriended Regina at
such a moment, and when he reflected that
she might have died without her assistance,
he felt almost grateful to her. And yet how
ardently he wished that any one but Mrs.
OeneriU Chasemore had been in the Hotel
Vache at that juncture. However, this little
annoyance »as soon swallowed up in the joy
and surprise that followed his perusal of her
letter. He had a soa at last : an heir to
inherit his gramifathoi's property.
The news had coma so unexpectedly upon
him that for a while it seemed impossible to
realise ; but as scon as he had had time to
take it in, his delight knew no bounds. He
talked uo more of wintering in Stockholm or
even Paris, he averred his intention of re-
turning home at once. He did not wish to
spoil his friends' pleasure, he said. Let them
continue their route as first planned ; but for
his own part they must see that it was
absolutely necessary he should return to
Eugland. His quvriel with Rfgina seemed
forgutten . If he remembered it with a sudden
sigh, the sad recollection was dispersed as
quickly as it ro8e by the thought of little lips
ready to welcome him that would never toll
him they loved him only for his money. To
the young and inexperienced father or mother
it seems impossible that the infant they watch
grow up beside them can ever turn round
with words of ingratitude and rebellion to
sting the heart that has given up all for their
sakes. These little lips must love caresses ;
these little tongues must speak the truth ;
these little eyes can never bear any expres-
siun but that of affection and obedience. We
believe our children to be too much our own.
We forget that we are but the instruments of
bringing into the world and nurturing a set
of spirits that may prove to be utterly op*
posed to our own in strength of will and
THB BOOT or ALL ETIL
1I«
hilt the
At, Mid
t nmmn
)d they
•OOD M
itam to
16 MDdt
i M the
in«, my
leditap-
aoBa'
ear that
ly living
old bftve
did not
It WM
think of
egiDA At
Bted thftt
iiiatance,
yet how
9ut Mn.
ihe Hotel
this little
D the joy
lal of her
D heir to
^ly upon
ssaible to
i time to
ads. He
kholm or
on of re-
i wish to
Let them
; but for
it it WM
etum to
[a seemed
sudden
^jrsed M
little lipe
lever tell
|uey. To
or mother
ley watch
n round
illion to
for their
saresses ;
|e truth ;
expres-
ince. We
lour own.
iDients of
iog a set
lerly op-
Iwili and
parpnue. Whilst they are infants and th«
«bil^i^h apirits are subeerYitrnt, we fancy wo
«an mnaUl them to what we with ; but, alas I
the baby too often ontatrips our own in
growth, and what we believed to be a docile
son or daughte", we Hud anddenly trans«
formed into a rebelliona man or woman.
Of onnrse neither Charleaford nor Selwyn
opposed the wishes of their friend. The
former, still hankering after the old mother,
who would be so disappointed if she didn't
tee his bonnie face smiling at her across the
Chriscmss table, avowed his intention of re-
turning home in the ' Thisb«' and so the three
men set sail together, and after rather a
rough paKsase, reached Southampton in the
month of November. Vivian would not stop
for even a night on his way, but, bidding
farewell to his friends, pt-oceeded without
. deUy to Prpmier Street, « i.ere, an he rigidly
ju'Uel, he should ftad Regius. Mrs. Vivian
Chasemore, after remainiug some weeks at
Hyerea. had taken the advice of her hui*
band's stepmother, and returned in state to
London, where the French bonne, who had
accompanied them home, was dismissed, and
an important-looking English nurse, at forty
pountis a year,in8talled in the oiJSoe of chief
Saanlian to the young heir. Lady William
rettltiship had not joined her daughter as
Mrs. General Chasemore had requested her
to do. She was ruffled in the first place at
Regioa having presumed, after all her own
EroKHOstications to the contrary, to have a
aby ; and indignant, in the second, that the
event should have occurred with so little
ceremony, and under the superintendeno<) of
'that creatixre, the general's widow.' If the
dowager Mrs. Chasemore had nursed Regina
so judiciously hitherto, let her continue to
do so. Lady William had no desire to share
the honour with a woman of whose ante-
cedents the world knew nothing ; and as for
her grandson, she doubted if he would be
any the worse for keeping. Then she con-
fided to her oamarade,Mrs.Runnymede,who
was quite ready to j'tiu in the abuse of a
fellow- Tea ture whose chief crime in the eyes
of society was precisely the same as her
own. Lady William had called on Regina in
Premier Street as soon as she heard that
she was alone, and been introduced to the
new addition to the family, magmticent in his
robes of cambric and Valenciennes lace ; but
she had not repeated her visit, and Mrs.
Vivian Chasemore wm beeinning to think it
was rather dull work, staying at home and
E laying at 'mamma,' and wished that she
ad followed her own idea and gone to Nice
or Mentnne asain' for the winter. But the
good sense rT the advice which had been
offered her, showed itself when her lady's-
8
maid rushed into bor dressing-room «■•
morning to inform her that tho master kad
just arrived from Southampton, and waa
coming upstair*. How her heart beat aa abo
heard it I She irivd to oomposo herself and
appear oalm as she lay on tha sofa in bar
soft clinging robes of white merino, with »
Bde blue ribbon twined in her golden bair.
at Vivian gave her little time rorconaid«r*>
tion. He ran straight to ber dressing-room,
and fell on his knees beside her onuch. AU
the bitter past seemed wiped out for eT«r, aa
be realised that be had found ber again, and
she waa the mother of bis child.
' My darling I' he murmured,as be sbowor>
ed kisses upon ber face, now flushed with
excitement end fear. * Can you forgive me ?
Oh, Regina I when I think that I m^btbavo
lost you during my absence, I cannot tell yoa
how I resret my hssty conduct. But it waa
all from love of yon, my dearest. It was tbo
awful thought that yon did not osre for mo
that drove me wild. But it is not true,is it,
Regina T You rto love me a little n<iw— u
never before — that I am the father of your
child T' '
' I do love you 1' she answered, with white,
trembling lips.
' Thank you- thnnk you a thousand times!
You have made my comintr home a haijii-
ness indeed. What a surprise it wss, Re-
gina, when I saw the announcement in the
"Times." 1 couldn't believe my eyes.
Why didn't you nive a hint before I lefft
home ? Do you think I would have gone bad
I known it ?'
' You were so ill, Vivian — and I waa not
sure 1'
' I wss such a brute, ynu mean, my darlings
that I had destroyed all oontidence betaeen
us. I don't deserve to be so happy as I am
to day. However, we won't say any more
about it, will we ? And now, where is my
bov ? I am all impatience to see the Iittla
fellow.'
Regina rang the bell and desired the lady's
maid to tell the nurse to brini{ down th*
baby to see Mr. Chasemore.
* To see his papa, ynu mean exclaimed
Vivian gaily. ' I hope the poor ittle chap
will never think of me as " Mr. Chasemore. '*
Who is he most like, Regina — you or me ? '
'Ireallv don't know,' she stammered.
' He will be very^fair, nurse thinks, but yon
must judge for yourself.'
• And are you very, very fond of him, my
darling ? '
' Oh, Vivian ! of course I am ; but be ia
very small yet, you know— only ten weeks
old.'
' Ten weeks old I Surely yon 4kght to bo
i looking stronger than you do, Regina I Yon
m
\m
m
"'hi
mm
m
'1 5i
114
THK KOUl OF ALL ^VIL.
to m« •ran paler uid thianw ftluui joa
I whan we parted. '
* I have been very ill,' ihe laid, ooloaring.
' Ym, I know yoa have ; but wbat doe*
Dr. Morton think of yoa now ? '
' I hare not eeeo him liDoe my retam.'
' Not seen him t Why it that ? '
' I am qaito welL I do not reqnire any
medical mv m.'
' Bat [ am not i»tii*'^ed with year appear-
•noe^ deareat I had hoped thia little event
would make a k****^ improvement in yoar
health, bat vou are certainly looking; very
fragile. I ahall aend for Morton to>morrow,
andaee what he aaya about it.'
' Oh, pray don't I ' ahe exclaimed, harried*
ly. ' I hate that man, and have not the
uighteat need of him. I ahall get quite
atrong now yoa have come home.'
' BUaa you ior aaying that dear I ' he
anawered just aa the nurse entered the room
with lier charge, and ourtaied low to her new
master.
* Is thia tho young gentleman, nurse ? '
' Yes, air I and I hope now yeu've come
back, sir, that his poor mamma won't fret as
much aa ahe's be«a-a-doin', for they're
neither of them as thriving as I rhould like
to aee 'em.'
Vivian took the infant in hia arma, and
carried it to the light.
' What a queer little mortal I ' he remark*
ed as he uncovered its face. ' He is not very
fat, is he?'
He was not ; for the poor little baby that
Ki*: Masters had delivered over to the care of
Miss Selina Farthingale, had not thriven
very well on its nhange of nurses. Doses of
gin and onium, hurried journeys by night,
and a audden transfer froic its mother's
breast to a feeding bottle, Liad changed the
carrent of life in the hapeless infant's oooati-
tion, and given it what its nurse termed *a
check.' Consequently it had progressed
but slowly, and at ten weeks old was much
ilerand older looking than it should have
' It ia not wbat you may call a plump
baby, sir,' replied the nurse. 'You aee his
mamma not being able to nurse him, and his
beia«< brought up by hand is a great draw-
back. But we hope to see him till out by-
and-by and do credit to his bottle.'
Vivian bent down down and kissed the
little puny face earnestly. Would this
joyous new hope which had scarcely had
time to settle itself into a certainty, prove a
a disappointment af tor all ?
'He's not a bit like me, Kegina, that's
certain,' he said, after a pause. 'His eyes
are very blue — quito a violet blue — and his
hair is yellow uke yours. And as for hia
noaa, my dear t— I don't know who he's got
that from. I'm afraid it's a decided puu-
' Babies' none* altar so much, don't they,
narse T' aaid Regina, languidly.
' Oh, vea, ma'am ; of course thoy do. Meat
babiaa have the same sort of nose when
they're ao little. I dare say our young gen*
tieman'a there, will tarn oat juat like hia
papa'a by -and -by.'
She received back the bundle of flannel
and long olothea as ahe apoke.
' Come, my beauty I haa it aeen it'a own
papa, then T It'll pick up twice aa faat now
you've come, air. I've always aaid the dear
child was a-pining for the aight of you. And
he isn't the only one that has pined either,'
rem»rked the nur«e, with the familiarity of
her olaas, aa she backed out of the room.
' Regina, my darling 1 ia it true ? Have
you been pining for your husband till even
the servants have remarked itT' exulaimed
Vivian, as the door dosed and he took hia
wife in his arms.
||Uer heart waa beating so violently, and
ahe was so over-excited that she had no
answer to give him except that which waa
conveyed by a burst of tears. But it waa
enough for Vivian. He interpreted it ac-
cording to his own desire, and resolved that
it should wipe off henceforth and for ever
the memory of all that had distressed him in
the pa»t. There was cue matter ou which
he wished to speak to his wife — the very one
which parted them ; but he resolved that it
should not be yet^ but that he would give
her time to settle down into the old lite aKain
before he broached any subject that was
likely to create a difference between them.
'And sc you have called him "Vivian
Peregrine,'' he said, alluding to the baby.
' I like your choice, darling, because it proves
you were th.ukingof me ; but I should have
preferred him to have my father's name of
Edward instead of mine. Hov/ever, that
will do for number two,' he added, laughing.
Regina did not laugh, as most mothers
would have done at this very natural joke.
She only smiled in a sickly manner, and
turned a shade paler.
' How does your mother take it ? Is she
not very proud of her grandson ? ' continued
Vivian.
' I don't think so. She has only been here
once since my return, and then she took very
little notice of him. She is quite absorbed
in that woman, Mrs. Runny mede, and seems
to care nothing for her own flesh and blood. '
' Never miud, dear ! We will love the
little ehap enough for his family put togeth-
er, will wb not ? Our own child I I can
hardly believe it, even now that I have seen
him. I had almost resigned myself to the
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL
115
sive
te axain
lat was
lem.
Vivian
baby.
proves
Id have
name of
that
,ughiDg.
lothers
1 joke,
er, and
Is she
intinued
3en here
)ok very
,bsorbed
id see ma
blood.'
bve th»
; togeth-
|| I can
ive seen
to the
bdiaf fthttt it woold never be t Oh, Regink I
my dear, dear wife, you have made me ao ex*
Juisitely happy. With your love, and that
ear little one, I feel at if I should never
know what it is to feel miserable in this
world again
ar<nt
CHAPTER V.
' TOD AKK THE MOST WONDBRFUL WOMAN IK
THE WORLD.'
There is one person, and by no means an
unimportant one in the present history , wliose
fortunes appear to have been dropped or
•Itosether lost sisht of in the seneral struj>;|j|)6
for uie shower of gold. I allude to Mus
Janet Oppenheim. But she has been by u<>
means forsotten, althoush the uneventful
Sears she has passed in the service of Miss
Tetherwood at Clarence Lodge, had afforded
no material as yet neoessary to tlie elimina-
tion of this little plot. This fact was due
almort entirely to tbe absence of Sir Arthur
Chaaemure from England. Miss Oppenheim
had no frionds, natural or otherwise. She
was parentless, and the few connections
remaining to her had made their home iu
India ; she and an orphan grandaon being
the only relatives remaining to Mrs. Mathers,
and the boy had died at sea some time
before her grandmother. Consequently Janet
Oppenheim had been thrown completely on
her own resources when she accepted a tem>
p*>rary home with Mr. Farthingale and
his daughter. She had been full of doubts
and surmises with regard to the position in
which her aunt had left her, but had gained
no certain proofs to go upon, when the
sudden manner in which she was thrust forth
from the lawyer's house, and cast upon the
tender mercies of Miss Netherwood, com-
pletely confused her mind upon the subject.
Was It possible, she theught, that if money
were due to her, Mr. Farthingale would
dare defraud her of her rights in so open a
manner ? She was perfectly aware of the
reason she had been sent away, and the
knowledg^e would have been a feather in her
oap, had it not been so soon followed by the
intelligence of Sir Arthur Chaeemore's depar-
ture from England. That was a real blow
to her. She had just bugun to believe she
had succeeded in awakening an interest in the
baronet's mind, when he went away without
even svying good-bye to her. She had
intended to consult him on the subject of her
own liffairs, and see if he could find out any-
thing concerning them; and now she had
positively no one to whom she could turn.
xMiss I arthingale had taken care she should
make no friends whilst staying with them
(•zoept that one friend, for whoso tako ah*
got so abrupt a dismissal), and so she felt
that for the present, at all •▼•nts, th^n wm
nothing to be done but to wait patiently, aad
make her way as well as she oould at
Clarence Lod||e. She had written a lettar
to Mr. Farthingale's office, asking hummy
for information respecting her late aunt's
affairs, and she had received in answer a
shuffling statement to the effect that th«
lawyer was doing his utmost in her behalf,
and that as soon as ever be had any satisfao*
tory information to give her, she should hear
from him. Miss Janet Oppenheim was wise
in her generation. She saw she could do no
good by moving in the matter without
advice, and so she locked the lawyer's reply
carefully away in her desk, and resolved to
bu patient and bide her time. Meanwhile
she had contrived, in her soft, feline way,
to wiggle into the confidence of Miss
Netherwood, and make herself neoessary to
that lady's comfort. At the time we meet
her again, she had been for three years at
Clarence Lodge, and was the right hand of
its mistress. From having commenced as
a pupil-teacher, entrusted with only the
youngest and most troublesome children in
the school, she had risen to be Miss Nether-
wood's housekeeper aui major domo — who
did all the marketing, superintended the
servants, and never entered the schoolroom
except it was to carve the joints at the early
dinners.
Miss Netherwood, who was almost as
much alone in the world as Janet herself,
used to declare to her friends that she hardly
knew how she had conducted the school
before she had the asiiistance of dear Miss
Oppenheim, and she believed she should
resign it the very day she left her. Not
that Miss Oppenheim was so unworldly wise
as to let Miaa Netherwood suspect that snoh
a day would ever come to pass. That would
have strained the links of the chain that
bound them together. The elder lady never
contemplated such a misfortune as loring'Lsr
young friend, although from her belief in her
honesty, sobriety, purity, and all the othei
cardinal virtues, she might have feared such
a complete treasure would be snatched from
her arms. But Miss Jauet never gave her
cause for such a suspicion. Her conduct
waa propriety itself, and Miss Netherwood
did not believe that she ever thought of, far
less designed, such an end as matrimony.
The good lady had never caught sight of any
of those foreign letters addressed to her
protegee in a bold masculine hand, which
coromenoed to arrive soon after Sir Arthur
left home, and for which Janet used to call
at the post-office during her daily rounds of
«,)i»iiM4««'iuiimMiMW';»»^iii«»»K~
IK
THE BOOT Of ILL EVIL.
doty. Th« bAronat bad ruiibtd away from
Bogland, diiguiuid, m b« b«ili«v«d. with all
b« l«ft bwbioa him { bot after »« bila h« had
f«lt rathar aoliury, aod thuaghta of the
naltiug look aod lufc-purriug tuoaa of the
girl, woo bad admioutered to hia ooiiaola>
tioa bv tlHttenog hi* vanity in Mia« Farth-
iDgtlw'a drawing- room, crept back iuto bia
miuU, and raiaod in it a lieaire to communi-
oate with ber. A uot« whioh ahe bad Mnt
to tall him of bar abrupt <i(!parture, bad in-
formed him alao of bttr present addieas, and
there be had aeut bia hritt epiatle from
Algiers, whiuh be bad not iuttiud«d to be
the oommenoemeut of a oorreapondenoe.
But Janet bad auawered it ao artfully, that
■be had drawn him on to aeud auother let-
ter, aod yet another, until a ayatem of oom-
muuioation waa regularly auc up and the
poat-otfiue Hxed upon for an addreaa, leat
the Dumber of epiatlea Miaa Uppenheiai re-
oeived ahuuld attract attentiuo. It ia
almost eaaier to become intimate frienda
through writing letters than by personal
ooniQtunioation. Oue o n say ao much more
on paper than one can by word ot mouth ;
beaides, time and opportunity and privacy
all contribute to favour a ountidenoe whion
might never have bloomed without their aid.
Auy way, if the baronet did not fall in luve
with Jauet Oppenheim, by reaaon of the
ohatty letters which she cuotmued for the
apace of two yeara to send him, he became
▼ery friendly and intimate with her, and
looked forward with interest to meeting her
•gaiU' Wheu he returned to England, he
found more^diffioulty lu seeing her than he had
anticipated, for the rules at Clarence Lodge
were very strict: but the uucertainty and
seoreoy of their interviews made them all
^be more delightful, and the man who had
considered it a nuisance and a trouble to
be obliged to >ttend a dinnerparty or a
ball, might often be seen
down some selected spot
Wood for hours, waiting until the require-
ments of Miss Nether wood permitted Janet
Oppenheim to leave the house and join
him.
Not that he waa enamoured of her even
Jet,or,at least,adinitted the fact to himself,
[e believed he had made up his miud never
to,marry,and only regarded the little teacher
in the light of a dear^ friend and confident.
And Jauet, clever aa deep, played her carda
into bib hand, believing that * all tbinsa come
to him who knowa how to wait.'
You may be sure that every detail of the
Vivian Chaaemorea' marrietl life, so far aa
they were known to the public, were dia>
cussed at length between these two; and that
Begina'a eolcUieaa and Viviau'e illLeaa and
pacing up and
in St. Jubn'a
departoro to Norway, and tha «D«ipc«lad
advent of the heir, were all aeirwaUy talk«d
about and «toB)m*nted open.
* Yoo bear it ao well,' said Jaacl, patk«li«
ually, «licuing to the birth of the baby, ••
they witlked together one evening when aha
waa supposed to be at church. ' I gmuioI
think bow yim can speak so qaiatly about it.
But tben,yoa alwaya w«r« ao gaaeroaa with
regard to those people.'
^ Well,it'B not their fanli yoo aee,' rapliwl
Sir Ar. bur, with a comical air, * and only
what waa to be expected after all.'
' Not a bit of it t No ona had the ImmI
idea of such a thing. And they were ao voiy
dose about it, too. I have heard throogh a
friend of Misa Netherwood, who knowa thai
wretch, Selina Farthingale, that even Mm
Cbaaemore'n mother had hardly a biut given
her of such an event, until it had actually
ocoorred.'
' Yea I that waa queer, wasn't it. And
Vivian himself told me that when he read
the birth in the '/ Timea " he thought it
must be a hoax.'
' What an extraordinary idea i One would
have thought alter all her diaappointmeni
and consideiiog how much depended on it|
that she would have been too proud to ro*ka
such a mystery of the affair. Where waa
this important baby born V
' I really don't know. At some ont*of the*
way place in Normandy, I believe. No one
seems to be rare. Even Vivian ia misty on
the subject.'
* Stranger still I Who waa with her at the
time V
' I never asked, my dear. She left Eng-
land very suddenly, and came back in tha
same way — plus the son and heir. It waa
altogether very funny, but it'a no biuineaa of
mine.'
' I think it is your busineaa, Sir Arthnr.
Does it not strike you aa very nnnaaal, that
a youLg mother about to lay-in of her first
child shuuld run away from ber own home and
friends ti> be cou lined in some remote district
abroad, without the attendance of a medicnl
man or a nurse.'
' Oh, I believe old Mrs. Ohaaemore (tha
general'a widow, you know) waa atayingwitil
er atHhe time, and Vivian waa very mnch
annoyed that it should have been so.'
' Mrs. Qeneral Chaseraore I She aeenu
to be a nice character for a re' treace, if
all you have told me concerning her ia
troe.'
'Yon are very mysteriona thia evenings
my dear Janet. Wnat are you driving
atr
' Never mind. If I told you, yoo wmuA
THI ROOT or ALL EVIL.
117
thnr.
that
fint
leMid
Utriot
ledioal
(th«
jwitk
Imaoh
ker u
«•!! MM • fooL Bat I om p«t tiro Mid two
lofotbor M woU M aoypno.'
~ I lioov voa o«a t Th*l ii why I WMt to
kaow your fittlo gomo.'
*8ir vrtharl hMitoovor itraok 700 that
that ohiH may not holoag to Mr*. VirUn
OhM«m'>r« At all Y
*Ouodh«aT«Ml Mot WhoM ihoold it
bar
'Oh,yoa mon I what ■tvpid gaoM yoa aro I
It is aa aaay to gall you ai poMiblo.
Why ihoald ft aot boloog to lomobody
oImT
*Why ihould it? Wh%t objact would
lh«r« bo in pMsing off anothar paraoa'a oUild
aa thair own f
tfaoot Oppanhoim atoppod abort and atarod
tho baronat in tha faoo.
* Are yon quite blind,' aba aaid, ' or only
pretending to be ao T Wb? , rbe'd do it for
Ibe money, of oourae. I don't aay that he
knowa anytbiag about it '
' For the money f For an heir I I aee.
Bat it ia not poaaible, Janet She ooulJ
norer be ao fooliah. It would be found out
at onoe. '
' Is will be found out if it ia the oaae, for I
am determined to reat neither aiifht nor day,
till I know the truth. For your aake 1' ahe
added, with a gentle aqueoze of the baronet'a
3ir Arthur oould not recover the ahook
of ^e anapioion ahe had preaented to
him.
* Not her child 1' ho kept on repeating.
'Whatever put ouch an idea into your
hand, Janet?'
* Everything I Jnat put the facta tosether
tor your own conaideratioa, and see hnw aua>
eeioua they look. Your cousin left EagUud
May, aud the baby was bora in September.
Why had he no idea of hia wife's ooLditioo
when he parted with her ? Then ahe ieavt-a
her home, atill without a word to her mother
or any one, and without writing to tell her
hnaband. Sbe remains abroad no one is sure
where, with that disreputable old woman,
Mra. Ohasemore, and then it is audtienly
announced that ahe had had a baby, and she
fetnrns to Premier Street, in pom(>, with an
infant and nurae in her train. It ia all too
unnatural not to excite inquiry.'
' Why ahoold it not be her own child ?'
repeated Sir Arthur.
' Why ahould it be !' retorted J«net Oppeu"
keim. * She had every dpi) ircaiii'y to pilm
off the child of some one eUe, aa I evory in-
duosmiat to rnxka her d<) so. Basiles —— '
'Besides —wh«t ? Dm't keep anything
back from me, J^aet. I am sure you have
tome other foundation for thiukiug aa yoa do
beyond the meroanapioioaaeironmataoooayo*
havo mentioned.'
• Welt, I liidn't mean to Ull yoa Juat yol,
aa I aaiii before, bat I don't know why yo«
ahoaldn't hear it I have moio reason thaa
yuu think, fur talking aa I do. What waa
the name yon told me that Mr. Viviaa
Chasemnre adnpt«d whilst 00 the alage t*
• Alfred Waverley '
' I thought aa much. Well, Sir Arthar,
it'a vttry atrange, but we have a woman ia
onr houae who knew him under that namo.'
'Really I Who U it?'
'A aervanti I'll tell yon how I camo
across her. I have the eniiaging i>f all Mia*
Netherwond'a aervaata, and laat month w*
were in want of what we call a achoolroom>
maid { that ia a peraon to wait on the y<^'<ing
lailiea and keep their rooma clean. I went
t«> office after otfioe, but could tind no on*
likely to auit. At last the miatress of ono
place told me that if I would take a girl who
nad never lieen nut in aervice before, ahe had
a very respectable young woman of the nam*
of Helton, who wuuted a situation. I saw
Beltnn, and found her to be a pretty girl, but
looking vrry aad aud sickly. She waa ao
!;entle and quite, however, that 1 touk a
ancy to her ; and as I found ahe would com*
for very small wages (Miss Netherwuod ia
awfully atiugy, yuu kno^) I engaged h«r for
the aituation, aud ahe entered our house th*
following day.'
' >Vbat iaaa all thia got to do with yonng
Chaaemoro ?'
'How impatient you are. Cannot yon
truat to me to tell you ? I waa thruwn a
good deal with thia girl in teaching her her
duties, aud I soon t'uuud out there waa a
mystery about her. She used to cry terribly
at night I have b«>en kept awake fur hours
liateuing to her aubbing and to the broken
sentences ahe murmurml in her slet>p, and
before long I taxed her with something ah*
bail said, and under a solemn prumiae of
aecrecy shn told me her history. '
' Anything out of the way ?
' Ye8,a very sad one ; but I mustn't repeat
the particulars. I cannot even tell you what
I wish to, unless you will swear never to re*
veal it until we are certain of its truth.'
' I swear I wi>l not. You may trust m*
to not expose myself by fuUowing a wild
guose ohaae. '
' It seems this woman, Helton ( Belton she
says is not her rcil uarae).s marrie*! aud ran
away from her husband. Can you guea*
why?'
' If ever could guess anything in my lif e^
Janet I'
' Beoanae her child was atolen fro a'
her.'
tl!i'
I
MMi^B'l
imi
m
w WJfwojMgt'w t w L' w ^•lM^'^'mpmS^&|l^
*18
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
* But who stole it V
' She lays her hnsbAnd did, th»t it wm
taken from her aide whilst the was asleep,
and when she found oat her loss vhe went
ont of her mind and ran away from him.
Bat the carioas part of the stury is that the
child was a boy and born in the beginning
of Septembei*, the very same date as the
other.
' Pooh,pooh,nonsenBe ! my dear girl,* said
the baronet , smiling; ' yon are never going to
frame a romance on saoh a slender founda-
tion «s that. Do you know how many
children are bom on average every week in
the year in London ? '
' Yes, yes ; of course I do, a thousand of
each sort. But that's onl^ the beginnine of
my story. When I questioned Belton, why
she suspected her husband of stealing her
child from her, she said she believed he had
sold it, because he would do anything for
money, and that some time before be had
betrayed her best friend for fifty pounds, and
she had never seen him since. Of course
this " best friend " excited my curiosity, and
I tried hard to get his name out of the
)P;irl, but nothing would make her reveal it.
However, a few nights afterwards she was
■o unnsually restless and talkative in her
sleep that I entered her room with the view
of rousing her, and heard her exclaim
" Where's Mr. Waverley, he would find my
baby for me ? Oh ! where is Mr. Alfred
Waverley T He would see that justice was
done to me.'"
' Nonsense, Janet ! ' cried Sir Arthur,
with real interest, 'she never said that.'
' She did, indeed I When I was next
talking to her I asked : " Did you ever
know Mr. Alfred Waverley, the actor ? " and
■he got crimson in a moment and denied the
fact. I taxed her with what sue said in
her sleep, but she stuck to it that she had
only seen nim once or twice. Then I said,
" Do' you think Mr. Waverley stole your
child T" And she replied, "Ob, no, ma'am !
for he's a married grentleman himself and I
daresay has plenty of children of his own. "
So I think that if this woman's baby was
stolen Jot that purpose that she had no
cognizance of it.'
^God bless my soul, Janet ! And do you
really imagine you can trace any link
between your servant's loss and Regina
Chasemore's baby ? '
' I think this, Sir Arthur. 'That the man
who received fifty pounds for finding your
cousin, would be very likely to earn another
fifty if he could by selling his own child. A
man of his class would probably imagine he
was doing the infant a great benefit by
giving it the chance of being reared as »
gentleman.'
' But who could have applied to him in the
matter ? If I reniember nghtly, old Farthin*
ale could never iind oat for certain, who
id claim that reward.'
' I can't tell you more than I know, and
Belton, although she is a very soft, stnpid
sort of a woman, won't let oat a word more
than she chooses. To all my questions she
only returns the answer, " Please don't ask
me, miss." I am convinced that nothing
would have extracted the name of Alfn d
Waverley from her, had she been awake,
and I am sure she is unusually interested in
him from her agitation when I mentioned
his name, but where can snch a woman have
known him T '
' That mi^ht be easily accounted for
Vivian associated with all sorts of low people
whilst he pursued that disgraceful prof*)Ssion.
But how came this woman's husband, who
earned the fifty pounds reward, to be mixed
up with this other affair? Surely old
Farthingale can never have had a hand in
it?'
' No I no ! no ! No man would ever
meddle with such a dirty plot I Depend
upon it, it was got up between those two
Chasemore women, whilst the husband
was abroad, to cheat him into believing he
had got an heir. Now, what do yon
think of my putting this and that together,
Sir Arthur ? *
' I think you are tha most wonderful little
woman in the world.'
' Don't go too fast. I may be mistaken
after all. Still when yonr interests are at
stake, thb i matter is at least worth oonsidt^ra«
tion.'
' By Jove I I should think so I I hare
not forgotten the trick Mrs. Vivian Chase-
more played me once before, and would incur
any trouble or expense to expose such an
atrocious fraud on her part now.'
' Ah ! I am afraid you think a great deal
too much of her still. Sir Arthur, if yon
would go such lengths to obtain your re-
venge.'
' Not in the way you imagine, Janet. I
have got over my disappointment Ions ago,
though I can't quite forgive her for it ; but I
am not likely to let myself be guiled a second
time, and particularly when die has ]^r«
petrated this deception (if deception it be)
simply to ruin my interests.'
' It is the vilest thing I even heard of,'
acquiesced Miss Oppenheim, ' and we mnst
not rest until we have reached the bottom
of it.'
'I am afraid the truth will be Ttry diflio«lt
THE ROOT OF ALL EYIL
ni/^
in
ir re*
lit be)
of.'
must
ottom
to arrive %%, eepeoially (m yon have bonod
yonrself to seoreoy.'
' Will yon leave it to me ? Yon know that
I am yonr friend acd that I am working
entirely for you. Well yon be patient whilst
I worm myself further into this woman's
confidenoe and try to make her betray her-
self,'
'I would trust everything I possess in your
hands with the greatest confiaenoe,' ^replied
the baronet erowing enthusiastio,as he kissed
Miss Oppetmeim beneath the cover of the
dnsk.
Janet drew ooyly away from him; not as if
she were displeased, but only reticent. She
knew that men care little for what they can
obtain without coat, and had iio intention of
selling herself too cheap a bargain.
' Can yon meet me here again, let us^say
next Sunday, Sir Arthur, and at the same
hour ? Miss Neitherwood is never able to
go out in the eveningss and I am free to
follow my own inclinations. Pnrhaps by
that time I may have some news for you. '
' I will come without fail, my dear. By
Jove t only fancy if it should be true. What
an awful sell for poor Vivian, who is as
proud over the youngster as a peacock with
a tin tail.'
* It will serve him right for marrying such
an artful, designing woman. He knew she
had jilted you and might have guessed there
was no good in her.'
' I am afraid he has not made much of a
bargain,' replied Sir Arthur. ' It's enough
to make a man think twice before he rushes
in matrimony.'
'Only that all women are not like her,'
interposed Miss Janet softly.
' By George, no ! I know one, and not so
far off either, who is worth a dozen of her
twice told. But I suppose you can't guess
who that is, eh, Janet ?'
' I have not the least idea, Sir Arthur,'
said Miss Oppenheim. ae she quickly shook
hands with him and slipped away.
She was a'^good tactician and did not open
the Belton siege until she had formed ner
plan of operations, and found a favourable
opportunity for oommencinjp;. She had little
fear of failure, or at least of failing to find
out all that there might be to discover
in that servant's past mstory^ For Janet
Oppenheim possessed in a high degree
that marvellous magentio or mesmeric power,
which enables its owner to draw others
to them almost against their own will, and
which she had never known to prove im-
potent except with those who bore her a
pre-oonoeived aversim. She was very soft
And gentle in her manners with the servaots :
too familiar aoaae people would have called
her, but aa she had alwajri been more or !•■•
dependent on that class for her comfort in
life she had found her oondesuennon stand
her in good stead. She would sit with thetti
of an evening and interest herself (or profess
to do so) in all their work or home affairs,
questioning them as openly as though they
were her equals, whilst she appeared to beaa
oonfidential with them in return. So that ftU
the menials at Clarence Lodge thought her
'a very affable young lady, though a Ut
near with the supper vittles,' and tnre
always wishing her * as eood a 'usband as she
deserved, and as many friends as there were
days in the year.'
The soft-hearted, friendless Mrs. Beltdfa
(whom everyone will have recognised as ho
other than our poor, shiftless Bonnie), Wfm
scarcely likely to shut up her lonely soul
from the unexpeoted kindness of auch-^a
sociable young lady ; and, indeed, in her
childish, timid way she had already begun
to lean upon Mias Oppenheim as her ooun>
sellnr and stay in life. There was only one
feeling stronger than gratitude in her breast
which kept her lips closed, when Alfred
Waverley was mentioned to her. But for
the rest, so long as she did not disclose the
name that might identify her to her husband,
it was a solace in the midst of her misery to
be able to talk about it all. *'
CHAPTER VL
' I can't help cryino for my babx.*'
In order to explain how Bonnie oame to
be a schoolroom-msid in Miss Netherwood's
service, it will be necessary to go back a
little. It will be remembered that the last
time Mrs. Bull saw her, she left her in betll
with her baby, too sleepy to take her tea or
answer questions. Neither of the women
knew then how the drowsiness had oome
upon her, nlthough it was found out after-
wards that Kit Masters had administered a
soporific to his wife under cover of the medi-
cine. As soon as her neighbour left her,
Bonnie fell into a profound slumber, from
which she never roused till late at night,
when some instinct warned her that it was
time to nurse her infant. She was only half*
conscious as she put ont her hand to the si^e
of the bed where the baby usually lay, atui
found an empty space there. Then she wol^e
thoroughly, and searching the bed all over
without Buccess, leapt from it with a load
cry, as the idea darted into her mind that
whilst she slept her child had fallen from
her arms and been killed. The noise brought
Hit Masters upstairs.
i!l !!
'1' :
I
•->«'
m
:«
WM
ill
Mt
m
ill
THi; ROOT OT ALL BVIL.
' What are y« yellia* for t ' h« damandtd,
«fhly.
* iSy baby 1 ' ezolkimed tha terrified girL
' Wbere ii my baby ? I caonofe fiad it any-
where. **h. Kit, have yoa aotitdowii<
•lair* f Did yoa take it aloos of yna ? '
* Along of me I ' he growled. ' Waat d'ye
■uppoee I ihoold take a sqaalling brat into
the ihou fur f to wake up the whole street.
I're haa more 'n eaongh of 'is yells, 1 can
tell ye. I aren't 'ad a proper night's rest
■inoe the little hanimal was born, and I won't
■tind it no longer, and that's the hend of the
matter.'
* Bat where is it?' repeated Bonnie wildly.
' Oive it to me, Kit. I will keep it quiet. It
■hall never worry yoa again. I'll sit ap all
night with it rather. Only it is so young ;
it shouldn't hare been took out of the
bed.'
She was hunying on a pair of slippers and
a dark tweed oloak that had served her as a
dressing-gown as she spoke, though her
trembling hands would hardly permit her to
do the fastenings. O.ily she was so aaxious
to go into the other r<M>m and fetch baok her
baby, 'fle would be so cold,' she thought,
' lying there alone.'
' Now, ye jist lie down agin,' s>id Kit
sharply. ' I'm not . going to 'ave you oatoh
your death o' cold for that blessed babby.
Lie down, I say, and cover the clothes over
you.'
* Yes, Kit, I will— only give me baok my
baby, lie must be very hungry, it ie suoh a
long time siuoe I nursed him. You shall
see now quiet we will be, lying here together.'
* Well, then, I can't give 'im you, and so
there, lou'd better hear the truth at
once.'
The mother's eyes almost started from her
head with fear.
* You can't give him to me 1 Oh, Kit, tell
me, quick — what is the matter? Is he
deadf
' Not as I knows on. '
' Where is he, then ?'
' I can't tell you that, neither ; but 'e's well
provided fur, and you muat be content to
jkuow it.'
* •* Well provided for I" ' repeated Bonnie
in a dated voice.
* Yes, much, better than you could do for
'im, and with a person as knows all about
babbies and their ways. I told you a'ready
th 1 1 couldn't stand uo more of his screech-
in', nor I can't spare you to be a hanuin'arter
'im day and night. And so I've got 'im hout
to nuas, where 'u'll t)e safe took care on, and
you can git about all the sooner and tend to
your dooties '
Bat Bonnie did not quite comprehend him.
* Have yoa took him away ?' she said in n
fearful whisper. ' Won't they bring him
back again ? Shan't 1 sleep along 'im to-
night?'
Masters broke oat itato a hoarse laugh.
' No, yoa won't, my dear, so the sooner
?oa makes hup yer mind to it the butter,
roull see 'im again, maybe, if he grows hup,
bat I'll be whipt if I'll 'ave 'im a cuttin'
about 'ere aod giviu' trouble for the next ten
years. I've shipped him ho£F to the country,
where 'e'll be a deal better looked arter than
here ; so hall you've got to do his to get to
bed agin, and make the beat of it - for the
job was done four hours ago and more, and
there's no nndoin' it.'
' My baby i Oh, my baby I' shrieked
Bonnie, in that voice of despair that reached
Mrs. Bell's ears, as she flew past her husband
and ran downstairs.
At first he did not follow her. He be
lieved she had merely gone to search the
house fur the infaat, and chuckled in his
brutal manner to himself as he thought how
her trouble would be wasted. But he waa
startled when he heard the shop-door slam.
He jumped upaad looked from the window
then, fearful of the neighbours' tongues if
Bonnie appealed to them in her excited
oundition,and made her wroog<) public. Bat
all he saw was a dark was figure flying down
the street as tlii)Ugh it scarcely touched the
ground, and, with an oath at her aud all
women, he stumbled downstairs, with the
intent to follow and bring her baok. He
undid the door, and stared up and down the
street, but Bonnie had totally disappeared ;
and Mr. and Mrs. Bull were ready to con-
front and pester him with the inquiries already
related,until he was completely out of temper
with them and himself, and retired to rest
determined to do nothius; at alL ' Such an
infernal fuss,' as he expressed it, ' for a
wretched squaller of four days old, whom
he'd as soon have drowned as a kitten 1'
Meanwhile, Bonnie flew like the wind in
the directum of Waterloo Bridge. She
hardly knew where she was going, or what
she wante<l ; but her head and her heart were
on fire v ich the one awful thought that Kit
Masters had stolen her baby from her, and
that she should never see him more. A
policeman met her rushing at the top of her
speed down the Strand, and hailed her t»
kaow her business. But she never heeded
hini,nor arrested her footsteps for a moment)
and as she passed beneath a lamp and he
caught sight of her uncovered head aud wild
appearance, he crossed the road and followed
in her wake. On — on — she ran, the polios
man keeping well behind her, for he could
not have overtaken hv without nsing atill
r.«k. £, I
fTHB BOOT or ALL EVIL.
Ill
M i
lin*
[ him
m to*
h.
loonar
Httter.
» hap,
Battin'
izt ten
autry,
IF than
get to
or the
re, »ad
irieked
eaohed
Uttband
Hebe
roh the
in hie
ht how
he WM
»r slatn.
window
ngues if
excited
B. But
ag doim
ched the
kud all
ith the
k. He
own the
)eared ;
to con-
all eady
temper
to reat
Such an
'for ft
1, whom
inl'
wind in
She
or what
greater epeedtantil ahe oame in sight of the
•tUl watora aleeping in the moon-UKht, and
Ihe oool brees4 from airosf the ri\r«ir atirrei
tile l^ht garment ahe wore and made her
■hiTer. The official in pnranit expeoted to
■ee the poor oreatnre halt near the ptraoeta of
that' Bridge of Sighs,' which has proved the
•ntranoe to the Oites of Death for so many,
aad fully iatoodei as soou as the ijirl dil so,
to arrest and lead her away. Bat he was
•earoely prepared to see her bonnd, without
prase or hesitation upon the stone ooping of
&e bridge and fling hereelf headlong into the
river. Withoot a cry or apparently the
diahtest fear B<>nnie sprang forward to meet
her doom, as if she was rashing into the em-
braces of a mother. But help was dose at
hand, and she had scarcely sunk before the
Soliceman had sammoned it, and she was
ragged from the wator and hauled into a
boat. Short as the ti ne of her immersion
was, however, it was long enough to render
her insennible. The unnaturally heated con-
dition of both mind and body was snffic^ts
to make the shook almost fatal, and fur weeks
afterwards Bonnie lay in a hospital com-
pletely unconscious of all ^that had befall-
en her. As she recovered her strength and
her senses the people about her became most
anxious to asoertoin her name and address,
but they oonld get nothing out of her. She
lay in her bed with dosed eyes and silent
lips until they began to suspect her of being
sillier than she really was. When the time
arrived for her discharge, the doctor was
quite uneasy to think what would become of
the poor shiftless child thrown on the tender
mercies of the world ; and tbe matron, who
had been attracted by Bonnie's mournful eyes
and pertinadous silence, offered to givt her
house-room for a little while until she could
gBi a situation ot some sort and work for her
ving. From this circumstance rose the idea
of her going out as a servant. The matron
finding the girl almost as reticent when alone
with her as she had been in the hospital,
advised her to put her name down on the
books of a registry office, to which end she
appropriated some of the money given her by
the sympathetic doctor as a little help upon
the path of life. Thus it came to puss that
Bonnie fell in with Miss Janet Oppenheim,
and was engageil as schoolroom- maid at
Clarence Lodge. Her duties lay entirely
up-stairs, and as they inclu led a good deal
of needle work, which she executed in
Janet's room, it naturally followed that that
young lady and herself often spent some of
the evetiing hours together. On the day
when Miss Oppeuheim had decided to try
to gaiu her further conAilence, Bonnie was sit-
ting as usual, stitohing away at some house
linen. She looked Tury staid and pret^ in
her print dress and white cap, with her fair
■oft hair parted neatly on her forehead ; bat
her face had orown very Htun, and then
were lines auoat the ohildiah qnivering
month that had never been there before.
The trouble poor Bonnie had passed thraagh
had cleared and strengthened her brain, and
made her more womanly than she had ever
been before. She would never be clever
(live as long as she might), but the ' daft *'
look of which her old grandmother had om-
plained, seemed to have been lost in the
plaintively quiet expression which now per"
vaded her features. That she oonld hold
her own was proved by the pertinacity with
which refusea to give J iuet any information
of importance respecting herself, for with
the excepfcion of talking of her little baby,
she was almost obstinate. But touching
that, she felt she must have relief. Her
mother's heart would have broken with long-
ing despair if she could not sometimes have
indulged it with weeping for her lost littl*
one.
Janet entered the room with some needle>
work in her own hands. It was evident thalf
she intended to spend some time in the oom-
Eany of her servant She sat down beside
•onnie as naturally as though they had been
sisters, and smiled kindly in the blue eye*
that were raised to her own.
' Well, Beltoa, how are you getting on with
the pillow-oases ? Rather hard sewing, I am
afraid,bat like most disagreeable thin^,the7
must be done.'
Bonnie, who had never been famous as a
aeamstresfl, regarded her pricked fingers with
a deprecatory look.
* Yes, miss, the stuff be hard — I mean, it
is hard — though I've rubbed it well too.'
Miss Oppenheim had been correcting Bon-
nie's grammar amongst other things, until
the girl had begun to be ashamed of speak-
ing in the old way.
' Let me soap that seam for you, Belton.
It will be twice as easy then. And your
thimble is too large. You can never work
comfortably with it. I will lend you mine.
I have another in my basket.'
'Thank you, miss,' said Bonnie, grateful-
ly-
It was by such little acts of attention,
politically bestowed, that Janet Oppeuheim
owed her sm^cese in getting her own way with
both the upper and lower classes.
'Oh, it is nothin.', Belton • It is my ob-
ject to get the work done, you know. And
I am hemming these frills to trim them with.
They arA for Miss Netherwood's pillows.
Sue is very particular about the appearanoo
''•■II
i it '
I'i !
iSS
THB BOOT OF ALL JSVIU
of h«r bed, wi has always been umcI to have
frilled pillow-oasei*'
' I don't think MiM Nethenrcod would
know how to get on without you, nuM.'
' Don't you I But the may have to do it
all the same, Belton.'
' You're not going away from n« V oried
Bonnie, in real aiitrcM,a8 she graaped Janet's
black ailk apron.
' No I no 1 not nt preaent, at all eventa.
Still I do not suppone I shall live here always.
I might marry some day.'
' Ob, don't you marry.miss 1' exclaimed th«
mrl earnestly, ' it's a bad job, that marriage,
for any poor woman. Seo how I sufferod
from it. It a'most killed me.'
* Poor thing ! yes, I know it did ; but
then you had a very bad husband, Belton.
All men are not bo bad as he was. Perhaps
you married in too jgreat a hurry and had
not seen sufiBoient of him.'
' No I I didn't ' was the mournful answer.
' For months and months I wouldn't have
him nor even speak to him, but grand*
mother said he was such a likely fellow,aud
oould keep me so well that 'twould be a sin
'tossy "no " to him.'
' Your grandmother was mistaken evi-
dently, for he seems to have been the worst
husband I ever heard of.'
' Yes, miss, he was. The verv worst.'
' You must try and not think about it,
Belton. You will make yourself quite ill if
you cry so much.'
* I «an't help crying for my poor baby,
miss. He was such a dear little fellow and
the very image of me. I feel as if iny heart
would break whenever I remember him.'
' If it really relieves your mind to speak
of him,fielton, of course I would not forbid
your doing so. You can talk as you will to
me, you know. I shall never repeat what
you say.'
' I know yon won't miss, and it's been a
great comfort to me to open my heart to you
as I have. The nights are the worst part of
it, when I can't speak to you as I'v^ got his
little head aside of me, and, when I remem-
ber as I shall never see him again, I feel as if
I should go mad.'
'Are you sure you will never see him
again ? ' demanded Janet, deliberately, as she
looked Bonnie in the face.
' Why, how can I, miss, when that brute
stole him out of my very bed, and sent bim
away to the country ? I know nothing about
the precious child — who's got him, nor where
he went. We can't never meet until the
Judgment Day,'
' But becauBO your husband did not choose
.to tell you where the baby was gone, is no
nason chat we ahonld not find out, Belton.
Of course, it will cake time and trouble, and
we might be disappointed, after all : but if
the loss makes yon so miserable, surely it is
worth the attempt.'
The pillow-oasei dropped from Bonnie's
hand, aa she turned startled eves of surprise
and inquiry upon Janet Opp*nheim.
' Miss, miss I do you mean aa you think I
oould ever find by baby sffsin ?'
' Why not ? If the child is alive he must
be somewhere, and you have a right to know
where that is. Your husband cannot have
sent him away without the knowledge <^
some other people— his parents, peru^ps ;
and I feel sure that proper inquiries would
elect intelligence conoeruing him.'
Bonnie sunk on her knees and, hiding her
face in Miss Oppenhim's dress, burst into a
flood of excited tears.
' Oh, miss !' she sobbed, ' Oh, miss lif yon
could find my little boy for me again, I would
serve you without wages to the very last day
of my life.'
\pome, Belton, don't be foolish. I will
help you in every way I can, if you will be
quite open with me. Dry your eyes, and
let us sit down and talk the matter over
quietly. Miss Netberweod has eone out for
the aftemoon,and will not be back until late.
We have a good time to ourselves, and you
can speak as freely as you choose.'
' \\ hat can I tell you more, iniss f replied
Bonnie, as she settled herSelf to her work
•gsin.
* Why, I don't even know your husband's
name, nor where he lives, flow could I set
anybody to find out where the baby is, unless
he is told the name and address of the person
who sent him away, ^r, as you say, stole
him.'
' I'm sure he stole him,' retorted Bonnie.
* What should he want to pay for my child
being nursed out for ? He wasn't over and
above free with his money, miss ; and the-
poor baby would have cost him nothing
at home.'
' That is one point of importance,' said
Janet, as she noted the fact in her pocket-
book. ' But then, on the other hand, what
should he steal the boy for T'
'To sell him, maybe,' replied Bonnie
bitterly ; ' he was such a beautiful baby —
anyone might have been glad to buy him.
He had blue eyes, amost as bie as mine, and
yellow hair on his head as soft as gosling's*
down, and such pretty little toes and fingers.'
The poor young mother, in her excess of
vanity, had hit the right nail on the head,
although she little believed it.
'Come, Belton,' said Janet laughing, ' stiok
to raason. Whoever heard of a baby being
sold? Who would buy it? People have
Snei
•y
'Y
was j
and 1
his SI
«rer 1
to brii
'y<
know,
•W;
becaui
river I
oould]
should
I want
sndif ]
togethe
Kit— if
hear oi
than ]
yon thii
Bonni
Msuran<
child br
serving i
•Oh;
member,
back to
miss. <
be's a ,
nine in
of Drun
wife as i
friend to
that all :
But you
you?'
'Nevei
•o fear
Mary M)
calling yo
Mquenoe.'
.'MissN
miss, nor
poor Bon
flihe was
but her oh
oeen rash,
mounted o'
' Certain
I Belton, to
*bont your
i the day he
clothes he
I exaot a des<
can give me
'He was
|*«t August
'MrnBuUi
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
18S
Sonnie'a
■urpme
think I
he mutt
to know
lot have
ledge of
perhaps ;
es would
iding her
rttinto a
M lit you
, I would
IT last day
I wUl
»u will be
eyes, and
atter over
ne out for
until late.
I, and you
f replied
her work
luaband'e
soold 1 eet
is, unless
the person
say,
stole
A Bonnie.
,r my ohild
i over and
. and the
m nothing
mce, said
er pocket-
Ana, what
od Bonnie
ful baby-
buy him.
mine, and
sosling'S'
jd fingers.*
)r excess of
theheadi
^ing, * stick
itby being
9ple have
generally more children of their own than
^ey know what to do with.'
' Yes, miss, so I've heard ; still my husband
was just the man to part with hisfown flesh
and olood for money. He loved money as
his soul, so I don't believe he would have
ever troubled about the child, unless it was
to bring him something.'
' You must tell me your real mame, tou
know, Belton, if I'm to do you any good.
' Will it send me back to Kit, miss ?
because if it do I'll throw myself into the
river again first.'
' I promise you it shall not. What object
eeuld I have in betraying you to him? I
should gain nothing and lose a good servant.
I want to find your baby for you, Belton,
and if I can, you shall both be sent away
together, whenever you may choose, so that
Kit — ^if that's the man's name, may never
hear of you again. I have more money
than you think of and I promise
you this upon my sacred word of honour.'
Bonnie could not disbelieve so solemn an
assurance, and the idea of regaining her
child broke down all her resolutions of pre.
serving secrecy.
' Oh, miss 1 I mnat trust you, but re>
member, I'll kill myself sooner than go
back to him. His name is Kit Masters,
miss.. Chistopher Masters that is, and
he's a |n-een*grooer as lives at number
nine in Little Tobago Street at the back
of Drury Lane. Mrs. Bull, the butcher's
wife as fives round the comer, was a good
friend to me and grandmother, and knows
that all I've told yon is the gospel truth.
But you'll never betray me, miss, will
you t'
' Never, m^ poor girl I You need have
BO fear of it. And so your name is
Mary Masters. However, I must go on
calling you Belton, so that is of little con-
sequence.'
'Miss Netherwood won't never know of it,
miss, nor the other servants,' contiuued
poor Bonnie dropping a few quiet tears.
She was half afraid now that she had let
but her cherished secret, whether she had not
oeen rash, but the thought of her baby sur-
mounted every other.
' Certainly not ! But now I want you,
Belton, to tell me all you can remember
about your child. The day he was born and
the day he was taken away from you, what
clothes he had got on at the time and as
exact a description of his appearance as you
can give me.'
' He was bomd on the twenty-seventh of
last August, miss, at three in the af tei noon.
Mm, Bui was along of me at the time as has
had seven herself, and she said he was the
finest child she'd ever '
' Yes, yes, Belton, I understand all that.
Well, he was born on the twenty-seventh.
What day was he stlilen from your
' On thirty-first, niise. He was getting
on so beautiful and filling out as fast as could
be, and we had been sleepmg together all day,
and when I woke up in the night, my poor
baby was gone and I've never seen him
since.'
' He was only four days old then, when
you lost him.'
' Jnst ! o, r.jss ! And I went quite wild
when I found it out and throwd myself in
the river.'
* Stop a minute ! Did your husband ever
hint to you that he meant to put it out to
nurse ?*
' Never, miss 1 Be used to swear at its
screaming when Mrs. Bull washed it, but I
thought nothing of that. Kit was allays
awearing. '
' What did he say when you awoke and
missed the baby ?'
' He said he'd shipped him o£f to the coun-
try (oh, I mind it so well ! I can rem9r>V>c)*
every 1), and that I should never set ', a
again till he was grow'd up, may be, bu !; be
was well provided for, and I must be content
with that.'
' Why didn't you ask where he had sent
himT'
'Oh I I did, miss. I asked SA»in and
again ; but he said first that he didn t know,
and then th%t the dear baby was with some
one who could take much better care of him
than I could (as if any one could love him
like his mother I) and that he wouldn't stand
his screeching and screaming. And then,
when I cried he said I must make the best of
it, for the job was done and couldn't be un-
done again. '
* Are you sure he said that T '
'The very words, miss. Every one's
burned in upon my brain. They told me at
the hospital that I kept repeating them over
and over again all the while I lay ilL'
' Belton I the more I think of this busi*
ness, the more I feel inclined to agree with
you that your husband sold the baby to some
one.'
'Oh, they'll never give him up again,
then 1 ' cried the poor mother} with clasped
hands.
' If we trace them, they must. It s not
lawful to sell a child in this country. But it
will take a long time to find out, and you
must try and be patient. Let me hear your
description of the baby over again.'
' He was a big boy, miss, and weighed a
good twelve pounds when he was born.
'if.
iim'
m
m
■ff:
i
;.|i.
-i-
124
TEE ROOT OF ALL EYIL
And he h»d bine ejM and soft light hair
(thor3 1 just the moral of mioe), and laoh a
•arioufl IHtle mark on bia left ear.'
' A mark/ exclaimed Janet, qaiokly,
* that is of the ntmoet importance, Belton.
' Why, mite ? ' she aaked, aimply.
' Bdcaaee, yon gooie I don't you know that
all little babiee are alike, and if they have
BO distinguishing mark it is almost impos*
■ible to know them ; tell me all yon can about
the baby's ear.'
' It was so funny, miss ; I never seed such
a thing before, but Mrs. Bull said they called
it a " pig's ear " down her country si.le, and
that the baby would be a rare greedy little
fellow.'
* Mrs. Bull saw it too, then T '
* Oh yes, miss 1 the very day they took
him from me. She came in to give me my
tea, but I was too sleepy to take it. But I
showed her the baby's ear. It rose on the
top with a white lump like a carrant, that
made it look square, and for all the world
like a little pig's.'
' Should you know it again if you saw it,
Belton T'
' Know it again, miss ? ' echoed Bonnie,
with overflowing eyes. ' Oh ! 1 should know
my dear baby any wheres. He wasn't one to
be mistook.'
' To bi mistaken I ' corrected Janet, quick-
ly. * Now there is another question I want
to ask you, Belton. You mentioned to
me ouce that your husband had be-
trayed a friends of yours for tifty pounds.
Was not that friend Mr. Alfred
Waverley T '
The blood lushed in a torrent over poor
Bonnie's brow and boaom, dyeing thnm
orimson ; and for momenta' she could
do no more than bend her head over her
work in silence.
' The little matters are more diffioult to
keep aecrets than you think of Belton.
Mr. Waverley is a well known gentle-
man, and everybody has hearft of his being
discovered by means of a fifty pound re-
ward.'
' Do you know him, miss ? ' demanded
Bonnie, in a low voice.
' No, I do not, but I am acquainted with
several persons who do. '
'Oh I if I could ouly speak to him for
a minute,' said Boonie, still blushing
from the efifort of mentioning hia name.
* I think he would help me 1 He was al-
ways so good aiid kind to me, Mr. Waver-
ley was. I am ?nre he would help to find
my poor baby. '
Janet aaw her way now to bribing the girl
nto further confidence.
'You shall see him, if you wish it, 'she
answered stoutly. ' I will answar for thai,
and between us all Belton, it will be hard if
we oannot do something to help yoa oat af
this scrape.'
* Oh, miss I how good yoa aro i'
* But where did yoa become aoqaaintad
with M<. Waverley t'
The question succeeded so natarally
that Bonnie answered it withoat oonaid«ra>
tion.
' He lodged at grandmother's, miM, for
many years.'
' Ah I when he was on the staK* ? And ho
was found there,of ooune ?'
' Yes, mias.'
' And Maaters was the person to giro af
his address ?'
' Yes, miss.'
' Then you must have seen the lawjer,
Mr. Farthingale r
'A re<l-headed, foxy little gentlemaI^
miss ? Yes ; he came one day to see grand*
mother. That was before I was married, a
goodiah bit'
'Ah I yon didn't marry till after Mr.
Waverley had left you t Well, Belton, I
am afraid you made a sorry bargain. It ii
almost enough to frighten one from following
your example.'
' Yes, miss. But if you can find my baby
for me, and — and Mr, Waverley could M
brought to hear of it, I know he'd help
me ; and I think I should feel almost happy
again.'
'I will do my very best,' replied Janet
rising ; ' but remember, Belton, you must bo
fatient, anH fololw my advice in all thinn
know you can hold your tongue, so I do
not caution you against chattering , but I
warn ycm that you may have to wait some
weeks, or even montha, before you hear tlM
intelligence you are longing for, and it otB
only be brought about by your obeying ia<
plicitly everything that I toll you.'
' Oh, I'll be as good as|good, miss— indeed
I will I' replied the girl earnestly, as she bei^t
her moiatened eyes upon her work again ;
and Janet Oppenheim left the fooo^, having
drawn every available piece of information
out of her poor aimple little hearts
When she related the conversation to Slff
Arthur, as they walked together in a aeanvh
teted part of St. John's Wood, onthefoAow*
ing Sunday evening, it really seemed to form
a very circumstantial chain of evidence
ngainat Mra. Vivian Cnaaemore.
' You aee there is but one link missing to
rentier the story complete. Sir Arthur, and
that is the identiKcation of the infant ia
Premier Street with the infant that was bora
in Drury Liue.'
' True ; but that seems the most diffionlt
part of
Mootify
•Idr
*Iagr
tion won
boy appc
it will b
ooBfedera
•Whioi
'Mr*
■he has a
•nd a woi
Bor disor
Mcret in ]
' That 1
more thai
fession am
'Iknon
of th<ise w
Then, whc
her own w
deceit, I w
ohild.'
•Mown
'I am
Miss Neth.
her next w
month's h
That will g
to put then
if success i{
' Janet I
manmuvrer
'lam d
Arthur.'
•Why K
an intimav
* little moj
••Janet." '
•I know
more retioc
that of a m
'Are yo
It never ati
Msuming a
that of n^ie
• I don t
•aid |>assy-
* Listen
Mr* Viv
her bouse
*Bd horses,
and her son
hoaband'a n
'•?*:
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
for thai,
m hardU
M OOfeof
lai
oqnainttd
natvrally
oonsidcm'
miM, for
T Aftdbi
io «!▼• nf
M lawyerp
gentleniMi,
I see grand*
niarried, a
after Mr.
, Bolton. I
gain. It is
)m following
nd my baby
f ooold bo
' he'd help
Imoat happy
splied Janol
yoa must bo
1 aU thinsa.
oe, 10 I do
Bring . but I
a wait aomo
rou hear tho
, and it can
obeying ia*
on.'
miia— indeed
y, M »bo ben*
' work agMA >
foon^. haviilg
information
urt'.
nation to Sit
ir in a aeqao*
on the f ouow*
lemed to form
of evidenoo
ik misHingtO
Arthur, and
the inf»nt in
that was born
I most diffionlk ]
part of tho bnsineas to mo. Who ia to
Montify n ohild loat sight of at four dnya
oldf
* I agreo with yon. The mothor'a recogni-
tion would not Vie naflBuient, even though the
bov appears to have been marked, for two
ohildron might ))e marked alike. Therefore
it will bo quite neoessary to get one of the
oenfederatea to betray herself as welL'
•WhiehwonlddosoT'
* Mrs. Oeoeral Chasemore I Yon know
she haa a world-wide reputation for drinking,
and a woman who drinKS baa neither brain
nor diaoretion. She ia sure to let out tho
secret in her onpt,'
* That would do noeleaa, unleaa there were
more than one witness by to hear the con-
fession and expose it'
* I know that, therefore I intend to be one
of th«ae witnesses and to provide the other.
Then, when Mrs. General Ohasemore denies
her own words and Mrs. Vivian backs her
deceit, I will prodnse fieltor to recognise the
chUd.'
* How will yon gain access to them f
*I am going to tell you all my plans.
Miss Netherwood's sister comiss to stay with
her next week, and she has just offered m« a
month'a holiday, which I have accepted.
That will give mo the time and opportunity
to put them into execution and to succeed,
if succesa is obtainable.'
' Janet I you are the most wonderful little
manmuvrer I ever met with.'
* I am doing it all for your sake. Sir
Arthur.'
* Why ftddresB me so formally ? ' Does not
an intinuMy of three years' standing warrant
a little more familiarity ? I always call you
••Janet." '
* I know yon do, but there should be
more reticence in a soman's tongue than in
that of a man. We a.-e only friends.'
' Are you quite sure of that, Janet ? Has
it never strncK yon that our relations are
aasnming a somewhat warmer character than
that of fricndabip T '
* I don't know what yon mean' — Arthur,'
•aid pussy-cat, with downosst eyea.
* Listen to me me, then, and I will tell
yon.
CHAPTER Vn.
*vo uximsi
nr HIM TO UTHSR ov
THKM.'
Mrs. Vivian Chasemore, notwithstanding
her house in Premier Street, her carriage
nnd horses, her security from future poverty
and her aon and heir, was miserable 1 Her
hnaband's return, to which ahe had looked
forward with more pleasurable anticipation
than she had ever felt in her life befuro, had
only filled her breast with apprehension and
alarm. He had become so suddenly and
absurdly fond of the child I Kegina had
hoped and imagined that ther supposed birth
would make Vivian pronde ahd fonder of
herself, and smooth over the unhappy dif*
ferences which had latelv marred their
married life and caused her more secret
grief than her pride would permit her to
acknowledge. But ahe had not expected
that whilst he did not much more than keep
on friendly terms with herself, he would
lavish all the love for which, now that it
appeared to be slipping from her grasp, sh«
had commenced to pine, upon hia suppoaitiont
son.
It turned her sick with envoy to see thn
caresses Vivian gave the little one, or to hear
him talk fondly to it when they wem
alone togttther and there was no one to laugh
at his paternal weakness. Her jealousy
urged her to be almost rough with the baby,
and the idea that she did not care for it
made her husband (till warmer in hia ex*
pression of affection.
' You don't luve our little bry, Begina,' he
naid reproachfully one day, when he and sho
and the infant were alone in her dressinj^
room, and he had held the little fellow up to
her to receive an indifferent caress.
' Oh 1 yes, I do I but I never cared for
young babies, Vivian. They are all so much
alike.'
^ ' Well, I used to think the same before this
little chap came, but every day seems to
make a difference in him now. Look 1 how
he's staring at that prismstic glass. I'm snro
he sees the changing colours in it I Havo
yon ever noticed what » atrangely-shapod
ear he has, Regina V
* No i which ear f
'The left I Look at it t It is nearly
square.'
' It will be very ugly when he grows up f
' What a shame I He's going to be the
bonniest boy in Epgland. Tell naughty
mamma to kiss you, baby, and beg your
pardon for calling anything about voa
"ugly."'
He put the child into Regina's arms as he
spoke, but she held it so awkwardly that it
puckered up ito mouth and began to cry. It
was not the poor girl's fault. The beautiful
instinct of n>atemity that tranaforms every
mother, however young, into a nurse, had
never come to her assistance. The baby
cried, and she did not know how to soothe
it
* Do ring for the nurse, Vivian. He gete
more fractious every day. I wiah he would
I
.i^fti:.t-..a.^ia;^;. nj^
iM
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
trow » Utile fMtar. Ohildren are so maoh
nioer when they o«n ruo aboat.'
* /Ind then yoa will went to put him into
a Jacket And kniokerbookera and harrv him
off to eohool,' Mid Viviaa warmly. ' I wiah
Tou showed a little more interest in him,
Regina. It leeme so uaaatural that you
•hould not do lo.'
' I am aurto I do everything; I can for him,'
•he answered quiokly. (The term 'unuatural
idarmed her. ) ' Ue has the best nursery and
the best nurse in London. Mrs. Fleming
is quite devoted to the child and thinks
nothing too good for him.'
' And no more she ought,' said Vivian as
he walked to the window and drummed upon
the |iaues to attract the infant's notice.
Amongst men he would have been as shy
as most young fathers of aokaowledging the
affection he had conceived for this little
child ; but he felt his heart growing closer
to it,day by day, and spent hoars ia dream-
ing of a future when he and his son should
be friends and companions and bear the
burden of life for one another.
' Oh 1 Vivian ! you are making such a
dreadful noise,' shepleaded|fretfuliy.
He sighed and walking away from the
window gave the infant a coloured scent-
bottle to play with, which it immediately
thrust into his mouth.
* I have wanted to speak to you, Regina,
ever since I came home, about something, but
I have not had courage to introduce the
subject fdr two reasons. First, be ause you
have been ill and I cannot bear to annoy
you, and secondly, because it is such an un-
pleasant one.'
* If it is unpleasant, Vivian, for Heaven's
■ake keep it to yourself.'
* No ! that is impossible, and the sooner I
■peak the sooner it will be over. Mrs,
General Ohasemore was here yesterday after-
noon, was she not ?'
* Yes 1 How can I refuse myself to her
after all she has done for me ?'
' I acknowledge it will be difficult to break
oft' the acquaintance again, and I am very
■orry for it. But I cannot have your good
name suffer because this woman happened
to be in the hotel when you were taken
ill.'
' It she hadn't been there, I might have
died.' murmured Regina.
' 80 she wrote to me, and no words can
express the gratitude I felt to think you
had help ati haad. Still ought I on that ac-
count to permit you to eudure the society
for life of a person whom I know to be a
most disreputable connection ? If Mrs.
Chasemore had any delicaoj , eke would not
come here, after what passed between us,
but she has none. I mait leare it to you,
therefore, to break off the intimaoy as qniok*
ly as possible.'
' I am sure .1 Idon't know how to do
it I'
' How, did you manase to cnt Mr*. Henry
Lascellei and Lady Onncan ' when yo«
heard of their antecedents?' demanded
Vivian sternlv.
' Neither of them was my hniband's itep<
mother. '
' Bother the itepmothership I We owe
Mrs. Chasemore no extra duty on than ao*
count, rather less 1 She inveigled my poor
father into marrying her when uielknew that
had he possessed an inkling ofher true
character he would have fled her a« a pes-
tilence. Regina ! I have not told yon naif
of that woman's profligacy. I did not like
to pollute the ears of my wife with such
stories. But her drinking propensities are
perhaps the least of her crimes. She is
a known vicious character, and I will not
permit her to darken my doors. '
' Oh ! I hope vou are not going to begin
that subject all over again. One would
think I had brought Mrs. Chasemore into
your family. She was not my father's
wif«j. '
' My dear Regina, I am not blaming yon
for the present inconvenience ; though it is
an old sore of mine, as you well know. It
has been the cause uf great unhappiness — to
me at least — for when I parted witn you last
May, I did not care if I ever came home
again or not. So, added to all the past, she
is now doubly odious to me. when I think
how nearly she wrecked our bves. But idl I
ask of you is to do your best in the future.
Deny yourself to her when she caUs— make
what excuses you oan — but let her see that
you are determined not to oarry on the ac>
quaintanceahip. I would have given any-
thing that she should not have been the one
elected by Fate to be present at your con-
finement 1'
' So would I,T acquiesced Regina, and sin-
cerely, for she was beginning to fear that
Mrs. General Chasemore might not be a
very safe person to quarrel with.
' It was truly unfortunate I I have never
nnderstood how the old woman happened to
be at the same inn with yon, nor why the
landlady could not have attends to you her-
self,' said Vivian. ' And what on earth were
you doing at}8uch a time wandering about
alone in an out-of-the way place like Fays la
reine ?*
' I had Selina Farthingale vnth me,' stam-
mered Regina, who felt she sank deeper in
the mire every time the dread^ subject was
broached.
to you,
I qniok*
to do
. Henry
m. yo«
nuuided
I'a step*
Nt owe
han M*
nay poor
aew that
ler true
M»pe8-
yon hftlf
i not like
th such
itiee are
She iB
: will not
to benn
ae woald
aore into
father's
ming yoQ
»agh it is
inow. It
riness— to
I you last
me home
past, she
)n I think
But all I
he future.
I— make
ir see that
on the ao«
iven any-
m the one
your con-
and sin*
fear that
not be a
r w
Lave neyer
._ to
..'hy the
you her-
hrth were
ing about
:e Pays la
le,' stam-
deeper in
labjeot was
THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.!
* And yon seem to hare straok np sach a
friendship for tiiat old nuud too I I thought
yon hated her before our marriage.'
' Oh I no I it was not quite so bad as that 1
I don't oare muoh for her, even now, but she
was very kind to me whilst yon were away.
Don't be hard on me, Vivian. I was very
lonely and — and — miserable, and whatever I
did wrong, I did for your sake,' said Resina,
r^psing mto tears. So unusual a mood on
her part, softened him at onoe.
Don't ory, ray angel 1 I am not angry.
I only want to oantion and advise you.
There I baby ! go and ouddle in your
mother's arms and tell her we both love her
dearly.'
But Re({iua puahed the infant away.
'I only want y iu,' she whispered, as she
laid her wet face against that of Vivian.
' Well, you have me, dear, fast enough,
I'm sure, he aaswered, laughing ; ' and
there's no one to dispute your nghts, unless
it be this young monkey here ; and if you
find him a nuisance, why it's all your own
fault, you know, and you must grin and bear
it.'
How well she knew it to be her own fault 1
How often she had wished even by this time
that she could have been content to try and
win back her husband's affection by herself,
and leave the future with God.
' Shall I send him away ? Does he annoy
you I ' asked Vivian, as she lay back on the
sofa with dosed eyes and knitted brow.
' I have one of my bad headaches,' she an-
swered, and he rung the bell for the nurse.
The door opened, and k, stranger stood on
the threshold.
' Mrs. Fleming is occupied for the moment,
ma'am, and cannot come downstairs. Shall
I take the baby up to her ? '
* Yea, perhaps you had better do so. '
The woman received the infant from
Vivian's arms and carried it carefully away.
' Who is that, Regina ? I never saw her
before.'
' She only came here yesterday evening
The upper housemaid had announced to me
most unexpectedly in the morning that she
must return home at once as her mother had
broken her back, or some rubbish of that
sort, but that her cousin would take her
place whilst she was away. So, as servants
ape scarce, and I don't want to lose Ellen, I
let the cousin came and that is she. Her
name is Jane. She seems a decent enough
body.'
' Very much so ! I like her appearance im-
mensely. She looks so modest and has such
a soft voice. I think Ellen had better stay
away altogether.'
' I don't know that Jane would remain if
she did. Nurse told me this moming that
she is engaged to be married. She seems
to take a great interest in the baby. Perhaps
that is the reason.'
'I hope she will be very oarefnl of
him. These girlr are so ignorant some-
times.'
' Fleming will take oare he comes to no
harm.'
* So muoh the better. Well, dear. 111
leave you now, and perhaps yon wiU go to
sleep and get rid of your headache. Don't
fiet about what I said to you, Regina. The
task will be easier than you imagine, and
after what she did for you and our baby I
don't want to have to attack the old wcman
myself on the subject.'
' Oh, no ! pray don't' oried Regina nerv-
ously. * I will do all that is necessary, Vivian
— indeed I will — and avoid her as much as-
possible for the future.'
But when her husband had left her to get
rid of her fictitious headache, Regina knew
that she had promised more than she could
possibly perform. It was all very well to tell
her to drop Mrs. General Chasemore, but
that lady had already intimated pretty
strongly that she had no intention of being
dropped. Four months only had passed by
since she had done Regina, what she called
' the gre^tteat service possible on earth,' and
she had already drawn more than onoe on
her patience and time and purse, in return
for the risk she had run in her behalf. The
money was but a drop in the ocean. Vivian
kept his wife so liberally supplied that ten,
twenty, or even thirty pounds at a time was
not seriously missed from her private funds ;
but when she found that Mrs. Chasemore
intruded upon her not in the dusk of the
evening only, or when she had been invited
as heretofore, but at any moment of the day,
heedless whether she encountered the master
of the house or not, Regina became seriously
alarmed, for what might t.ranspire if those
two met and the lady was thrown off her
guard, she was afraid to thiuK. Mrs. Chase-
more had once frightened her beyond
measure by affirming that she had a rod in
pickle for Master Vivian if he dared to insult
her in the future. Her wretched victim had
not been bold enough to ask her the meaning
of her words, but she gnessedit too well, and
had been toe timid since even to suggest that
her visitor should uhoose more reasonable
hours for calling at the house. Onoe she
had appeared there when considerably the
worse for liquor, and Regina, blushing with
shame that her servants should be witness
to her own degradation in owning such a
connection, had yet been obliged to enter-
tain her for some nours whilst she strove by
■' ijiji!
!,li
.^ li
.^
Ill
Tm ROOT OF ALL IVa.
trtry umu in her power to prtTVDl hw
lood tonMsnd aDKO»r«l«d wordi from mskiog
Aft«ir way beyond tho walla of bar privata
•illing-rooni.
' Lr»r, m V daar I and bow'i tba ebild getting
on T ' »ha bad exolaimed on that oouMioq.
* I mel it in tba park the other day, and
tliottgbt I should have buret out langbiag in
the Duna's face when she informed m« it was
frowins more like its dear papa aT«ry day.
vor Vivian I What a oosterinonger s out
ba must have about him.'
'Ob bush I prav,' eutreated Regina with
blanched oh4>eks y ' the whole house will hear
yuu, Mrs. CluMiamore,ir you do not take mora
oare.'
* Well, and what if they do f It needs
more than a oouple of words to settle a
business of that kiud. But what have you
been doing to the brat ? He looks very puny
to me.'
* I don't know why he should. Mrs. Flem'
ing takes the greatest oare of him, I believe.
But she says ho is like a child whose mother
has fretted. She looked very suspiciously at
mc as she spjke.'
' Ha I ha ! ha i She has heard of Master
Vivian's 'escapade,' I suppose.iu the servants'
hall, sod fancied it worrid yuu and had an
afftiot upon the child. She little thinks how
philoxophinally you took it. '
' But it did worry me I' replied Regina,
with dignity. ' I don't think yuu give me
«redit for maintaioing even friendly relations
With my husband, Mn. Chasemore.'
* Oh don't try to humbag me I' exclaimed
the old wr an rudely ; . * I can see the
terms you are on t(»getber perfectly. And as
if you would hnve done what you have done
if there had been the least affection btttween
yon I You like the money, my dear, aud yon
would have sold your soul to sfcure it.
That's the lon^ '^^ short of the mat-
iar'
* I oftt:. wish I hadn't done it,' sighed
Begins. 'I had better have sold my soul
then established such a constant dread for
myself. There is not a day but what I fear
the whole thing. may cnme out.'
* Pooh ! Qonsense I how cau it ? uuIms yon
are fuol enough to turu qucAu's evidence
against yourself. You know Selioa's staunch
and so am I. By the way, my dear, I'm
Soing to ask you to do me a little favour.
ly wretched quarterly pittance is not due
till the er.d of the mouth, and I have a horrid
impudent fellow dunning me foJ a linen*
draper's bilL It's only twelve pounds.
Can you lend me the money till Saturday
week t'
* I think I can,' replied Regina, as she rose
and opauad her asoritoire to get the notes.
But the seorat drawer was empty. '1 forgot,*
she added, suddenly, * I left my pursa ia
tba library ysstarday. I will go aud (atcfe
it.'
But assbawaa about to leave the rtKmi,
she henrd Vivian's voice in tba hall below.
' Oh T Mrs. Chasemore,' she exoUimed,
turning bsck with alarm. ' My husband has
oome home. Yon must wait for the money
till to. morrow.'
' No such thing, my dear I it'a quite im>
possible, 'replied the widow with an nomi>Ted
oountenanca ' I shall be thrown on my
beam ends if I go without it. The man u
to call again this evening, (pmd I promised ba
should be paid.'
' But Vivian i« sure to ba in the library I
He will see me looking for my purse, aud
ask what I want it for. Perhapa he will
follow me upstairs too.'
' I can't help it if he does t I don't in-
tend to take any more impudenoe from him,
I can tell you. '
* But «>h I Mrs. Chasemore, do please oon-
sider ; if Vivian were to tind you here, thera
might be another row, and it is so uupleas*
ant before the servsnt. '
'I will soon stop his tongue, my dear 1 I
J have it in mv power to make a greater row
I than he if I feel so inclined.'
* But if you would go now— yon don't mind
my speaking openly do you / I will send
you the notes by this evening's post without
fail.'
* They will be of no use to me then. I
must have them by nine o'clock to>
night.'
* I will fetch them then,' cried Regina in
desperation ; 'only pray lock the door of the
room inside, and let no one enter till I ra-
turn. I
She bad to tell all sorts of fibs to get away
from her husbaud^ who wanted to detain bar
in the library whilst he related the day's ad«
ventures ; but she managed to shake him off
at la»t and return to the boudoir. The ex*
citement and flutter of the affair, adiled to
the difficulty of getting the half intoxicated
woman out of the house without being seen,
afterwards made Regina quite ill, but it did
not seem to have the least effeot upon Mnk
General Chasemore.
*Lor', my dear,' she said contemptuously,
* you're far too nervous to undertake mnj-
thing like an intrigue. You should bare
been one of the htvey-dovey-cooey sort of
wives, who oonsidor it incumbent to tell their
husbands every time they cut their nails. I
should never be surprised to hear any day
that you had blabbed the whole story to him
yourbelf. You're a very different sort of
woman Irom what I expeuted. However, aa
yon
i«li<
loVfl
and
hal
the
■tair
wato
ahonl
ikeli
Bq
the a:
bade
for a I
bepli
ings (
notth
orfeai
for as
was E
money
her inc
Byt
««tablii
*he nev
day (to
Settles
■tanoec
-Farthiuj
"ide of .
puiedl
of amns
iiiaoy a i
disoontii
•nd beffi
withhu
eld maid
ing dish
twice he
Mked hei
her night
gather in
to find th
with a loo
Meanw
^Uy, and
▼ivian C
And poor
bis peace,
•onsideret
get rid of
she firmly
in betray in
bedarired:
>i wild t
whether sh
eoald not
Viinan tafc
viaJia, or «(
•' How life
^hy. But
H'
THB ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
M
I is
■tok
MHIli
tlow.
med,
IhM
Mm«7
• lm>
noTad
>n mj
n»n u
•edho
jnny I
le, Mid
B wiU
•n't in-
DB hiflBi
Me oon<
B, there
LupleM*
earl I
iter row
n't mind
ill aend
without
len. I
luck to*
yon Mem Anxioae to do the domeetio, I'll
raUera von of my preaanoe. Good -bye I my
lovatoMMterVi ~
Let »wfty
bUin her
^ay'a ad-
J him off
[The ex-
d«1ed to
Dxioftted
log 8«en,
It it did
Mra.
jtuonsly,
Ike »Dy*
lid have
sort of
ell their
kaila. I
kny day
f tuhim
I Bort of
|rever» ••
'irian Peregrine Chaaamora;.
and oomplimanta to Menaienr aon pere— ka i
ha l)ia r
And, nnder the gnardianahip of a aarrant,
the wretohad woman had atnmbled down*
itaira, whilat Ite,(ina bung nrer the baii'aters,
watohtog with hreathleaa fear leat Vivian
ahonld be diaturbed by the noise, and leave
the library to learn the reaaon of it.
But though noauoh 'oontretempa'ooourred,
the ezperienoe of that day and other* liUe it,
had eonvinocd Regina that no frailer teuure
for a aeoret oould be found than the faitb to
be plaoed in Mra. General Chaaemore'a feel-
inga of prudenoe or honour. And aha waa
not the only peraon either to be conciliated
or feared. Selina Farthingale alao came in
for a ahare of good thioga, and, although she
waa not in a poaition to require loans of
money, ahe did not fail tn make Regina feel
her indebtedneaa to her in other ways.
Bv the time Vivian reached heme, ahe had
eatabliahed an intimacy in the houae which
ahe never afterwarda abandoned. Day after
day (to the great diseust of Lady William
Nettleship, who considered tha» the ciroum-
atance defrauded her of her justrigfeta) Miss
Farthingale appeared in the carriage by the
flideof Mra. Vivian Chaaemore, ot acoom*
panied her to the theatrea and other places
of amusement. Vivian considered the inti-
macy a nuisance, and wished Recina would
discontinue it. He had never liked Selina,
and began to think he should never be alone
with hia wife again, ao peraistently did the
eld maid, aa he called her, appear as a stand-
ing dish at their dinner-table. Once or
twice he joked Reiq[ina on the subject, and
asked her if her friend had better not bring
her ni^t'Oap and take up her abode alto,
getker in Premier-atreet, and was surprised
to find that the joke fell flat or was received
with a look of conf asion or dismay.
Meanwhile Selina kept her footing man-
fully, and had come to be regarded as Mrs.
Vivian Chasemore's most intimate friend.
And poor Vivian wondered at it all. and held
his peace. Regiua's heart stood still as she
eousidered by what means she should ever
get rid of these two harpies, each of whom
she firmly believed would hkve no hesitation
in betraying her if no further beneit were to
be vlarired nom keeping ber secret.
y&. wild thought flashed through her brain
whether she could bribe the doctor to say she
eonld not live in England, and make
Vivian take her away to America, or Aus-
rralia, or some far off place, and commence
:i new life there with him, and — and — with
W,by. But tbe next moment she had almost
t
smiled at her own aimplioity. To what part
of the world could aha go, where lettara
oould not follow and annoy oar, and to what
and had aha connived at deoeiviog her htta«
band, if aha were oompalled to raaign all tkn
delighta of society and oiviliaation in order to
carry out her plot with sucoeea. Vo ; how*
evrf difficult and thoruv the path aha had
marked out for heraelf, aha muat traad it
now without flinching. There waa no going
back, and there was no r ef using to pay th«
debt she had incurred. She could uava?
get rid of Mra. General Chaaemora
nor SeliiKi Farthingale. Her beat hopa
muat be that they would continue tu cliiig to
and be faithful to her. But how to deceiva
Vivian and yet retain the affection on which
ahe was beginning to aet ao high a
value T
Regina aa she thought of the diffioultiea
in her way, wished that aha had died
before ahe had consented to make such a
dupe of him. If the death of the child
could have compassed her 4nds, I believa
she could have found it in her heart t»
murder the poor innocent in order to be fraa
to win back her husband's love with a clear
conscience. But she knew that the baby'a
death would not release her from the bond*
age in which she had enthralled herself.
Two other women would still know tha
hateful secret and hold it in terrorem over
her. So there seemed to be no hope nor help
anywhere for Kegiua as she lay upon her
couch and mourned over the consequeuoaa of
her deceit.
Meanwhile, the new aervant Jane had
carried the infant in hia beautiful lace robaa
and white satin ribbons safely to the nursery
where Mrs. Flem'ng was in the actof getting
up some valuable lace.
Here's the young gentleman, 'she aaid, aa
ahe entered the room. ' It waa his papa wh*
gave him to me. What a handsome man ha
is nurse I I am afraid baby will never be a*
good•lookin^.'
' Well, no I he don't favour hia papa, da
he T I think he'll take mure after the mia*
tress, being so fair.'
*I can't aee any ikeuess in him ta either
of them, thoBgh I dare say he'll be a pretty
enough little fellow when he ip-owa up.-
But I never aaw a child with so strMiga an
ear 1'
' Now what's to find fault with in tha
blessed innocent's ear I' exclaimed Flaming,
quick like all nurses, to take offence at any
slur cast upon her charge.
' This little lump ! it sticks ao.'
'Blc^ss you, that'a nothing! I eonfeM^
when I tirat aaw it, 1 thonght it might want
the knife, but I showed it ta tha daatar, and
;'l
,1!-
lao
THB ROOT Of ALL WTiL,
h% Mid 'Iwoold b« lurdly nolioMbIc byaad*
by. Hit old grMidnM iiumI* Mob » (om 0T«r
it wbM it Mught bar ay*, dMUring It bad
Mv«r oon* from b«r aid* of tbo family Mid
•11 dlob rabb sb, tbatooo wovld b«v« tbomgbt
tbo <lMur cbild bad b««a bora witb mi Mr
Ukoftpampbin.'
* Hi! griAdiiiMUM ? Wbat, Mn. Oonoral
ObMoaoroT'
' La blMt yoa, no I That old lot'i no
gTMidiiuk of bit. I mMnt Lady William
NtttlMbip,'
' Bat M Do« Mrs. ObaMmore Mr. ObaM-
moro'i motbar ?
' Not a bit of it, only bit itopma, and tba
Boat diagraoofal old creature m 1 ever mw.
Wby,would yon believe it, Jane T that ThomM
telle rae tbat tbe but time the called here,
■bo WM lo drank ebe conld bardly get up
tbe atain.'
' How horrible t I wonder tbe miatroM
likM to receive her.'
* So do I, and particular at the nuuiter'i
•Iwave at her about it. Thomaa >av« he'a
beard him bamme ing away at her bv the
hour together, and aU beoauM ^e wiU My
■be'aat nome to that old figure. I wonder
bow abe can find any pleuure in her com-
pwjy.'
' Ellen told me tbat the mif treat wm all
alone witb Mra. Chasemore when tbe baby
WM bora.'
* Ah I BO I've hMrd, and it's a mercy the
didn't kill them both then, for I auppoM ahe
WM drank MUHuaL'
* DoM ahe often come here ? '
' Two and three timea a week, and then
yon can hear her voice a boUerin' loud
enough to rouae the atreet. And, by the
way, look here, Jane ! If ever ahe anould
oome of an afternoon when the miatreaa ia
out, and the lady'a maid ahouldn't be in the
way, and von have to ahow her up to the
boudoir, don't yon give her any liquor —
mind that 1 '
' But what am I to My if abe aaka for it ? '
' Oh 1 tell the firat lie you can think of.
Say the butler'a out, or the keya are loat, or
anything. It'a aherry abe'a ao awMt upon !
She'll never drink anything elae, and Tho-
mM Mya tbe way abe pega into it ia aome-
fhiiuK awfnL'
'Do yon mean to My ahe really geta
tipey?'
' BloM you, yM ; and when abe ia ao, abe
doesn't care what abe Mya. I've aMn tbe
miatreM in a perfect fright and a terror
MmetimM bow to get her out of tbe houM
again. And ahe talked ao loud, yon can bear
bar up here.'
' What doM abe talk about ? '
'AU manner of tbinga, but chiefly abuM of
tbe maatar. Tbare'a no love loat b«tw««B
tboM two, voa may take oatb of it Aad
tbe other old lady'a uearly M bML liboold
think tba miatreM mnat be drivan aearly wild
batwMtt tbom.'
'She BMma Mif abe wm balf worried to
dMtb witb MOMtbing or other. 1 abenlda't
think ahe wm a happy wobmb, to look at
her.'
' Between you a^d I, my dear, aba'a not,
and that'a the Bible truth. I know abe geta
very little aleep of nighta, and yon aoaroely
ever aee her amile. '
' DoMn't abe care foi tbe babv f
' No more than if ahe picked it up out oi!
tbe atreeta. It makM my blood boil aoma-
timea to aM how careleM ahe ia of it. It
ian't, ao to apMk, a fine child, but I've aean
many worae. and if a motber'a not to oare for
a poor dear baby, who iaf
' Some women have no natural foelingm'
obMrved Jane.
' Ah I abe haan't, though one would tbink
abe'd be proud to have a little Mn, after
waiting three yeara for it, too ; but, tberoi
aome people never know when they're wall
off, in mv opinion I'
Jane laid tbe baby gently down upon ita
bed, andJeft the room to look after her own
work. But the next time abe met tbe lady'a*
maid upon the ataira, abe informed her tbat
ahe didn't care for going out heraelf, and tbat
if ever Mn>« Roae wiahed io take an afternoon
walk in tba abaence of her miatreaa, ahe would
be very happy to undertake her dutiM for
her.
' Ob, thanka I you're very kind, I'm aura,'
replied Mra. Roae, who particularly liked
walkini* with an amiable valet who lived not
many doora away ; ' and I aball be only too
glad to get a aniff of freab air in the park
aometimea when my lady'a out dininfr.'
CoP'^equently the new bonaamaid aoon
found uvraelf enaconced in her miatraM'a
drear.<iDg>room duiiug the afternoona, ready
to attend to any viaitora who might wiab to
wait in tbe boudoir for Mra. Vivian Cbaaa*
more'a return. But before abe bad bad tbe
opportunity to receive any one, abe bad taken
care to pro vide heraelf, inoaMof need, witb
two bottlM of tbe bMt aberry.
CHAPTER VIIL
IMP
* SHB LXAVKS ■NOLAITD THX DAT AJntM TO-
HORBOW.'
Vivian Cluuiemore had apent Cbriatnua in
London that year, in hopM that, aa time
went on, bia wife might become atronger and
more fit for travelling . But aa tbe apring aet
in bleak and atormy, and her weak atate of
l'7»»"^"W*'f^^'-
TBI BOOT Of ALL IVn^
stOlMiB
Mtime
Dger Mid
>riogMt
•tote of
hMltb eoatinaad, b« daddwl to
tko whoU f»vUy to Nioo with m Utilo d^y
M poMibI*. Uo oMuo to «IJa rwolatkm
nthar ■addtnlv, Aod mora on aooooat of
tL« iof aat than bis mother. For the ostrmM
oold did uot Mom to egroo with tho loo end
hoir, end daring the leet few d**e he had
beoome weaker end mora Uogaid then Mre.
Fleming liked to eee him. She bed OTon
eerried him to Reoine'e dreeeiog-room with e
requeet thet Dr. Morton might be eent for
to ezemine into hie condition. Now, for
obvioue reecnne, Kegioe bed evoided thie
gentlemen*! praaenoe ei maoh m poeeible
ki'Aoe her return to England. She wee afraid
of the Borntiny of hi* profeeaiooal eye, not
knowing how much or how little he might
be able tc gueee of her eeoret by merely
looking at ber. She fanoied that on the few
oocaaioni he bad visited the nareery, he had
Slanoed enspioiously at herself, and she
readed bis putting questiona whioh she
might not be itble to answer. So that when
Mrs. Fleming l\rst suggested sending for the
dootor, she tried to avoid the neoessity for
it, and said they had better wait a day or
two and see if the child really required
me«lioal attendance or not.
' Wait a day or two 1' echoed the nnne
indignantly ; ' if you knew anything aboat
babies, ma am, you would not talk like thai
Why I an hour's too long to wait aometimes,
with an infant of this age. Their lives are
like the snuff of a candle— ont before yon
can say Jack ^binson. The child's looking
very weak, in my opinion, and shrivelled
with this oold, and if yon won't send for the
dootor, ma'am, I must ask the maater to do
eo.'
' Why, you don't mean to say he'a really
ill 1' exclaimed Regina, with a look of con-
eternation that gained her mora of Mrs.
Fioining's favour than she had ever enjoyed
befora.
' For she did really seem aa if she oared
for the poor little thing at that moment,' the
nurse observed afterwards to her confidante
Jane ; ' and it drew my heart out of her.'
But the expression had only been caused
by the sudden fear that the baby might die,
and that if he did die, all her anxiety and
auspense and sin would have been in vain.
* Thero is nothing really the matter with
him, ie thera ? ' she rapeated, aa she gazed
into the nurse's faoe.
* Well, ma'am, I don't want to frighten
von I I won't go so far as to say the dear
babv's downright ill, but he's ailing, and he
don t set on as I should like to see bim, and
if 1 told you otherwise I shouldn't be doing
my duty by the child.' «
' Whatia tho matter T' demanded ViviM,
who aotered the room at that moment.
'Oh, Vivian, Vivian.' oried lUgina. ovw
paiwarad by the oombination of feelioge tha*
aaaailad her, ' narse thinks that the baby k
ill, and we ought to sand for Or. Morton 1 '
The way in whioh she laid her weary
haad upon nia shoulder and wept aa aha anid
the words, appeared to be joat what a yoang
and anxious mother would do oader tha air<
ovmetanoee.
Her husband kissed her to re>aaaara hm
fearr, but hie faoe became almoat aa white aa
her own.
* Is this tme t ' he asked, turning to tha
nnrsa.
' Well, sir, the mietreae ia frightening
herself beyond what ia needful, but theraii
no doubt that the dear child doea nott. riva,
and I should like to have Dr. Morton's opin-
ion on him.'
Vivian rang the bell fnrioosly.
' Send Thomaa at once to fetch Dr. Mor-
ton. Say that the baby ia ill, and we mnal
see bim immediately,' waa hie order, aa tha
servant appearad to answer it. Than ha
went up to the infant aad kissed its cheek
softly. ' Dear little fellow,' he mnrmnrad.
' He does look thin and pinched. What do
you think is the reason of it, Fleming ?'
' Well, sir, the dear child baa nevr realey
thriven, so to speak. You see his mamma
didn't nurse bim herself, and 1 think ha
ought to have had a wet*nurse from tho
beginning. And this cold is terrible againal
him, too. He'll look very different when tha
warm weather comee.'
' We will toke bim to Nice, if the dootor
recommends it,' said Vivian, gravely. Than
he turned to the sofa, across whioh his wife
had thrown herself sobbing. 'Regina,
deareat, try to controlyour feelings, i am
BO afraid you will suffer for it. The dear
baby 'snot leally ill — only a little ailing, and
Morton will soon set him right again.
' Oh no, he won't He's going to die. I
am sure of it, and it is all my fault, and yon
will never love me again,' she ejaculated,
almost beneath her bredth.
' Don't talk of such a thing I' said Vivian,
ahndderiog.
He had scarcely realised, till that moment,
what the loas of this little infant would be to
him.
' Now, ma'ma, pray don't toke on so, or
you'll kill yourself as well as the child! And
what will be the good of that ? ' interpoved
the nurse pbiloeophicallv. But Begin*
would listen co neither of them,as she rooked
heraelf backward and forward and thought
what would beoome of her if the baby
i'
yi
I
! 'I
fk
,<»
THS BOOT OF ALL ITIU
to die, And ftll heii' troabU would be
WMted.
Thedooto*'''! eatranoe put a stop to farther
disouMion. He examined the piaohad
faatarea of the infant, felt ite feeble little
poise, pat a few inqatries to the narse as to
Us digestion, and pronoanoed its ooaditiou
to be wholly due to its being reared by
hand.
* Yoa mast get a good wet-nurse for it at
<moe.' he said oheerfvlly. ' I will send you
one in from the hosi>ital this afternoon, and
the little fellow will be all right in a week.
Come, Mrs. Chasemure, you mustn't worry
yourself about nothing ; there is no need of
these tears. The baby only wants a little
alteration of diet to be as strong as ever. '
' I was thinking of taking them both to
Niue antil the warm weatbur,' said Vivian.
' The best thing you can do; my. dear sir.
provided you get a wet- aurse first. Give
the ohild the breast and a warmer tem[)era-
tare, and v/e shall sue him come back a
perfect cherub 1 God morning I I will
send you a woman this afcernoon.' and with
many bows the fashionable doctor took his
departure.
' It's just as well to try it,' thought Mrs.
Fleming, as she carefully covered up her
little charge and carried him upstairs ; ' but I
don't like the look of the child's face, and I
shan't be easy till it' i gone again. '
As soon as they were alone, Vivian ap-
proached the couch and folded his wife iu his
arins. Her apparent solicitude for the baby's
health had caused him to believe himself
mistaken in her feelings.
' You feel more comforted now, darling,
den't yon V he said. ' Morton promises we
shall have the wet nurse this afternoon, and
I will make every preparation for our starts
ing to Nice next week. Shall you be ready
to go by then ?'
' Oh yea !' she answered languidly.
' It will do you good as well as tbe little
one,for I have not liked your looks lately,
Regina. vA' hv are yon so melancholy, my
dear.and disinclined for tbe pursuittt iu which
yon used to take so much pleasure ? You
don't seem to cure for dressing or dining out
•r anything now. '
* I feel so weak,' she said in a low voice.
' You must have refused at least a doaen
invitations dsiring the last month, and seem
jO care to see no one but that horrid Selina
farthingale! Tt makes me very unhappy,
liegina.'
Blie was silent.
' Is there nothing I ean do, my wife, to
bring back the smiles of which I used to be
so proud ? If anything could make me
regret eur baby's birth it would be to see
how it has altered yon. Yoa are not th«
aame giri I married. I do not know yoa in
these tearful laogaid moods.'
' I am 10 aohappy, Vimn I '
'fiat why, dear?'
' Yoa will never love me again I ' she said,
aa she hid her faoe from him in the sofa*
cushion.
' Oh, Regina 1 I have never oeased to lore
yon 1 But yon never seemed to care about
my love. You affected to despise any de«
monstration of affection until I checked my
own wishes in order to make mvself more
agreeable to yon. And then, during that
last miserable interview we had before I
went to Norway, yeu told me so bitter a
tmth it nearly broke my heart. How could
you expect me, after that, to guess that yoa
were unhappy for lack of love ? '
'It was not the truth,' she whispered;
' ut least it is not now. I wish sometimes
that you had never had any money. It haa
beer, the curse of my life. I hate the very
name of it.'
' No, no, dear 1 don't go so far as that,'
said Vivian, cheerily. ' Money is a good
enough thine in its way, but if you have
lived to love me the better of the two, why,
let us thank God for it, that's all.'
But though he took her in his arms again
and kissed her warmly, Regina's heart was
not satisfied. There was something forced,
tmth in hi8 manner and her own. She had
blighted the fresh, warm love he had given
her with the coarse asseveration she had
made — it would never be the sane again :
and between them lay the shadow of the
awful lie which she had told
she played upon his best
fectious.
And until this obstacle
by a complete confession,
love would never spring up
in its former luxuriance, for
no real love without the most entire oonfi*
dence.
The wet-nurse arrived a Doctor Morton
had promised, and the infant having sub-
missively agreeed to the change of plans, the
fears of the household subsided, and no one
except Mrs. Fleming anticipated any farther
difficulty. But she, with feminine consist-
ency, was rather inclined to be offended at
her system of diet being exchanged for any
other, although she had been the first to pro-
pose it.
' It's just as well the poor innocent haa
taken to her, as it is the doctors' wishes,'
she grumbled to Jane, eenfidentially ; ' but
as to every ene crying out that he's got a
eolonr in his cheek already, and is quite a
diffarent child, well, I can't see it that's all !
him — the trick
and purest af-
were removed
she knew his
for her again
there ■ can be
Tm
Tin KOOT OF ALL KVIU
13S
igain :
>{ the
trick
3Bt«{-
hit
again
sanh*
oonfi*
it has
Rihet,'
'but
got »
k«ite »
IVs aU I
And he itm wheezing terrihly in hie aleep
le«t night, tee I I ooeldn't set a wink my*
aelf for honn, and feel quite wore ont with it
to-day.'
' This running eff to Nice ii a rery radden
affair, and quite upsets everybody's pUne,'
obeerTed Jane.
' So it doea I The mistreis meant to stay
at home this afternoon, but the master's
hurried her offafter something to do with the
journey. She was up here just btifore she
started, and left particular word that if any-
body calls, Mrs. Rose is ^ say as she'll not
be home till the eyening. I suppose sh«
expects that old faggot Mrs. Ghasemore to
turn up,and wants to get rid of her before the
master and she comes back. But Mrs. Rose
has gone out on particular business of her
own.*
' Oh, I will take her duties for her a:..! see
after Mrs. Chasemore,' cried Jane with
alacrity.
' Well, if you ain't as good-natured a girl
as ever I met with,' said Mrs. Fleming
admiringly, as the housemaid left the room.
Whether Jane employed the interval in pray-
ing that the (General's widow ui^ht make her
appearance that afternoon, it is impossible to
say ; but if she di(cl so her prayers were
answered, for about four o'clock an audible
colloquy with Thomas in the hall was fol*
lowed by his calling her name and informing
her that Mrs. Oeneral Chasemore desired to
wait in the mistress's boudoir until herreturn.
It was not the first time by many that the old
lady had called in Premier Street since Jane
had been located there ; but on c9oh other
occasion Regina had been at home and entor*
taioed her visitor herself. Now, however,
the opportunity she longed for had airrived,
and she detormined to make the most of it.
Am she stood at the head of the stairs wait-
ing to receive the lady, she watohed her lirst
lay hold of the handle of the dining room, as
^ough she were about to outer there.
'Tuat's the dining-room, if you please,
ma'am,' observed 'i'humas. smiling.
' Oh yes, of course 1 i wish to wait for
Mrs. Vivian in her boudoir.'
Whereupon she grasped the handle of the
drawing-room door, which came next in
order.
' That's the drawing-room, if you please,
ma'am,' interposed the footman, with a broad
grin.
' Of course 1 I know that I I'm going to
the boudoir.' responded Mrs. General Chase-
mora, and immediately fell te wrestling wibh
the door of the libraty, which compUbtsd the
anito of rooms on the ground floor.
' That's the library, if you please, ma'am.
again savgested Thomas, at he burst oat
laughing behind her back. ':::£'L:^.- . >.^
* I know that as well as you, man I' re-
j plied the lady testily, as she stumbled
•gainst the lower steir. ' I have told yMii
already that I am going up to Mra. Vivian'a
boudoir.'
* Uei e, Jane ; come down and help th«
lady up to the boudoir,' said the servant,
insolently— (servants will be insolent when
their superiors degrade thcmselves)~and
the housemaid delighted rather than dia«
gusted at the mystified condition in which
the general's widow appeared to be,
fimiling down the steps to offer her i
But Mis. Chasemore refused her suppbrt
with the supreme haughtiness of a person
who knows that she is not walking quit*
straight.
*I need no assistanoe of yours, young
woman ' she said in a tone of oflenoe :
'I'm neither infirm nor ilL Go on in
front and open the door of the boudoir for
me '
The housemaid did as she was desirad,
stirring up the tire to a cheerful blase, and
wheeling an arm-chair in front of it for the
accommodation of the visitor.
' Mrs. Vivian Chasemore will bo so
disappointed, if she comes homo and
finds you have gone, madam 1 ' she ob-
served, as she removed the widow's fur
oape and muff, and placed two or throe il-
lustrated papers on the table beside her.
' She was talkiug of your ooming here all
the morning. But Mr. Chasemore partiou*
larly wi&hed her to choose some purchases
this afternoon, and quite dragged her
out with him against her will, or I am
sure she would have been here to woloomo
you.' »
* Who are you, young woman ? ' demanded
Mrs. Chasemore. 'I have never seen yon
here before, and you speak much above your
stotioninlife.'
' Well, madam," said lane, blushiz^ 'I
have received the benefit of a good educa-
tion, and see no harm in profiting by it. But
I am only here for a short time, in the plaoe
of my cousin, Ellen Withers, who has gone
home for a holiday. Will you allow me to
get you some tea, m^dam, or some coffee f
* You seem to be a vei-y superior sort of
voung woman, and I should think Mitt
Vivian would be sorry to lose you again. I
don't care about tea or coffee, my dear, th<)y
don't agree with me ; but if you could get
me a glass of sherry, I ehall be obliged to
you. I have walked all the way from my
house, and feel quite knocked up.'
' You sLaU iiave it in a minute.
I'.
■'I
m
,:i\
1S4
THl ROOT OF ALL EYIL'
•riad the obliging yoang woiuab, m she flew
■%0M Mm roon.
In Another moment ihe returned, bearing
• eovpleofglsMee nod • black bottle of
*IamaoMrrytobeobliged to bring it to
yon in thia rongh maoner,nadam I' ske aaid,
with a winning smile ; ' hnt the faot ia^ the
bntler ia out, and he is ao anspioioos of va
poor a(>rTanta, that he won't leave the keya
of the k^Tstry behind 1dm for a moment. Bat
tUa ia thb rtry best ahernr, madam ; yon
Bead not be in <she least af r«id of it, for it waa
booght eapecially for me when I waa rery ill,
and the dooto,: ohoae it himaelf.'
' Upon my ^irord, yontag woman, yon are
very obliging V aaid Mrs. Gknoral Ghase-
more, as Jane ponred ont a good hamper of
the wine and handed it reapectfally to her,
'Itia, as yoa say, most excellent sherry ; bot
I mnstn't deprive yon farther of yonr little
private atore.'
* Oh,p4«y don't think of that, madam I It
iaof nonse tome, I assure yon — ^indeed, the
doctor haa forbidden my taking it any longer ;
and I shall be too much honoured if you will
do me the favour of drinking it.'
Mra. General Ohasemore seemed to think
this waa the most sensible sort of servant she
had ever encountered ; and as she (ay back
in her chair, and amaoked her lips over the
sherry, she considered whether it might not
be uossible to induce her to accept service
with herself aa soon as her term of duty with
Mra. Vivian was ended.
* Don't leave the room,' she said graciously,
aa Jane made a feint of retiring. * I should
like yon to stay and talk to me a little, if you
have time. How soon do you expect to
leave Mrs. Vivian's service ?'
' I don't know, I'm sure, madam. It de-
pends, I suppose, on m cousin's movements.
She has gone to nurse her mother, who haa
met with an accident, and I must remain here
till her return. B^xt perhaps, now that there
Is a wet-nurse, they will be able te do with-
out me.
' A wet-nurse ! What ! has the baby been
iur
* Oh, yes, mttdam ; quite poorly. They
were obliged to have the doctor to him, and
the whole house was in an uproar. I felt it
mjraelf terribly ; for so much of my work haa
been in Mrs. Fleming's rooms that I have
taken qaite a fancy to the dear little fe^ow.'
* But he'a better, I suppose I'
* Yea, madam— much better, thor.j^h Mrs.
Fleming won't believe it. But his papa is
very anxious about him stilL I never saw a
^ntleman so wrapped up in a baby aa he is
in Master Vivian I'
The comical look which appeared in the
oomar of the old lady's eye at thb asaertion
did not eacapo the notioe ci tiie honaemaid,
who peraeived to hw satisfaction that the
wine waa saining an ascendency over Mra.
Chaaemoer^ brain, and would donbtleaa looa-
•n her tongue before long,
' Is he now ? But not more ao than the
baby'a mamma, I anppoaet' she observed
alily.
' Well if I moat speak, madam, I ahould
aay he ia by a great deal My mistreaa
dosen't take much notioe of the baby, to my
mind. It seems to worry her moru than
otherwise. And that's atranger ; for, of tha
two, I'm anre it ia more like her tiian like ita
papa.
* Of the two, yes I But not much like
aither, eh t'
' No, madam. If I thought vou would
forgive me, I ahould say that the baby didn't
aeem to me to have the aame high-class look
as hia papa and mamma and youraelf, madam*
I have lived ao much among the nobility,
that I have learned to study appaerances m>
moat like a book.'
* You're a very clever girl I' said Mrs.
Ohaaeniore ; ' but you can't judge babies by
older people— iMbiea alter every day.'
' Yea, madame. But I wish his mamma
took more notioe of the dear little fellow.
She'a a long tiire getting about, too. She
aaya her illness is all due to her confinement,
but I think that must be her fancy,' remark-
ed Jane, with a aearohing glance at tha
widow.
' Yea, yea, of oourae I She is f antaaticaU
like all tiue women <^ the present day, 'repli-
ed Mra. CtuMomore, aa ahe helped herself
to a fonrtli glass of sherry. Aa it trickled
down her throat ahe wi; >ked at the houae-
maid, * It's idl fancy, my dex^r — all fancy I
1 waa present during her trouble, and
ahe made nothing of it — ^poaitively noth-
ing I'
' So I've heard,' said jane, demurely.
' What have you beard ?' aaked the other
quickly.
' Only, madame, that the miatress doaen't
look, to tilie doctor and nur8e,as if she'd gone
through a bad time — ^in fact, they say they
would never have known she had been con>
lined at all, if she hadn't said so heraelf.'
' Ah I' ejaculated the widow, wagging her
head oracularly and rolling her eyes. 'And
what do you uay, Jane T*
' I say the same, madam,' waa the quf.et
answer.
'But you won't betray her?' cried the
creature, m her dmnken tcViy. * You won't
go and tell anybody whfci. you've heard, will
you, Jane ? because it would ruin poor Mra.
Vivian, you know, and can do you no good t
TBI ROOT OF ALL BVIL.
Itf
uiioii
ouUd,
fttth*
Mn.
■ loot-
m ih*
oerred
shonld
listTflM
to my
w thao
, of th«
Ukeit*
oh like
would
y didn't
ass look
,m»dMiu
aobilityf
mcM sl-
id Mrs.
abiei by
>
•
mamma
) fellow.
lO. Sko
[inemeiit»
' remark-
at the
itastioaU
r,'repU-
heraell
triokled
le house*
fanoyl
Bly noth-
[the other
doaen't
|he'd (tone
My they
I been oon*
traelf.
zing
her
And
|the qufet
loried the
Ton won't
tenrd, will
■poor
Mra.
no
goodt
Too Me ft raepectftble, weUedaeated young
woman, Jaos, and I'm sure you must know
how io keep ft asoret, tank would never go
and tell people that the child isn't her own,
Just to nuke misohief, and be turned out of
a good plaoe, when yon oould get a great
dMU more for holding your tongue about it.'
* Let me giro you a little more sherry,
madam I* said the housemaid, as she poured
out another glascfuL
'It has shaken my nerres to hear you say
Jon have found out all about it,' remarked
Irs. General Ohasemore, as she raised the
l^ass with trembliuff hands to her lipa ; ' bs-
cause peoptle will tell you, perhapa, that I had
a hanit in it, and I had not indeed I I hap-
pesed to be staying in the place at the time,
and Mra Virian asked me to nuiae her ; and
though i thought all the circamsitaaces very
strange, it was not my part to chatter about
it, and so I held my peace , bat it was very
unkind •f Regina to mix me up with the
afliur at slL'
'It is of no use denying it any loneer,
madam,' said Jane, who hM now heardall
that was necessary for her purpose ; ' for, to
tell you the truth, the whole town knows it,
and whose child it is that was provided for
the purpose of keepins the barouet oat of his
money in case of Mr. Vivian Chasemore's
death.*
Afi'i. Qiigril Giasemore was by this tim?
so intoxicated, that it never ocourrod to her
muddled brein to inquire how the housemaid
had gained the information of her employers'
private affahrs.
'Good Lord I' she moaned, in a puzatled
and bMotted manner. *How am I to get
olearofitaUr
' What I should recommend you to do,
madam, is to make a clean breast of it at
ouoe to Mr. Vivian Chasemore. He knows
the whole story, bnt hedoe?* not suspect that
you had any iMnd ikx deceiving him. If you
ga straight to him anil say you have discover*
ed the plot and think it your dnty to inform
him of It, you can explain your own part in
it as you see best.'
' Bat tell me,' cried^the widow,olateh:ag at
the housemaid's arm, ' won't Regina have a
word t6 say in the matter, and betray that I
and Selina Farthingale made the parchase of
tbs child between us V
* If she does, you can but contradict her
statement. Ton will be first in the field,
and any thing she may say in her own de-
fence will be put down ar invention. Let
me entreat you, madam, for your own sake
to lose no time in telling your stepson every-
thinff.
' But Regina will be so aasry with me/
whined the widow, ' ' and so wiU Selina. They
are both in the screpe, and I premised so
faithfuUy not to telL'
'Then Mrs. Vivian will dre her own
version of the story first, and lay all the
blame of it upon vou. I assure y6u, madani,
that her hosband is only waiting till he haa
collected sufficient evloenoe to expose the
whole affair. And it is rather a aeriiiwa
business, remember ! I am not sure whether
you could not be transported for life if they
can prove you to have had an;' hand in pur-
chasing the child in order to commit a felony
on Sir Arthur.'
'Ob, dear I oh, dear ! what shaU I dot '
repeated Mrs. CHiksemore, weepiog hysteri>
cally. 'I dare say I could make Yiviaa
believe me, but then I should have to break
off entirely with Regina. And I have not
been half paid yet for all the trouble I took
and the terrible risk I rao. I am sure if I
have had fifty pounds from her, it's as muoh
as ever I've recel/ed, and the Christmas billa
come i:^o heavy, and I've furnished my house
new on the expectations ebe held cut to me,
and now to give it all up^it seems very
hard.'
' Oh I if that is what causes your hesita-
tion, madatu, I can very soon satisfy you on
that score, lln. Vivian Chasemore has no
intention of providing you with any more
money.'
' Bat she must — she owes it to me I I will
tell her story in the streets if she dares to
refuse.'
' She would only say, madam, that you
were f jad, even if she heard of it. But she
wou) i not be likely to hear. She leaves
Enriand the day after to-morrow.'
CHAPTER IX.
' OH 1 VIVIAW, I DII* IT fO» XOVK SAsut i ' .
' Leaves Eagland 1 ' exclaimed the widow
loudly, ' and w^ .hout a word to me 1 It a
impossible I '
, Indeed, madam, it is quite possible I
V. you like to step iato the drawins-room, I
can show you the t' «^ dUing trunks ready
packed. They zto gcios first to Nice fcr
an indefinite period, and then to Italy and
perhaps Spain. My own idea is that the
mistress never intends to return to Eng-
land again I '
' Bat » hy ? ' gasped Mrs.
more, ' when they have a
like this and every comfort. . _^ .
' Because, in my humble opinion, madam,
she wishes to shake you cff and have
nothing more to say to voo She haa
incurred a heavy debt of gratitud? to
you, and she wants to shirk payrient:
General Chase-
beautiful house
Why?'
i];j
186
THE ROOT OF ALL JSVIU
She is trying to get the maater to take
her out of the ounntry antil the atory
■hall have blowa over, or where, if it ahovld
•ver oome out. she may be able to make good
her o*ra share ia it withoat any interfereaoe
^ your part
' Bat this is infamous I ' oried the widow
excitedly, ' she has used me as a ladder to
flimb to her ambition, and now that she haa
Attained it, she would kick me over.'
' Juat so, madam ! your smile is a beautiful
one, and states the case exactly. I have
C'verheard her say as much when she waa
alone. The master has began to inquire
how she spent her money lately, and to
■ay he must look into her accounts , we
servants hear a great deah of what fioe» of
in a house, you know, madam, and I heard
ker answer that she had given a lot away in
oharity the last few months, but that she was
determined to do so no more.'
* In charity, indeed ! the impudent minx !
To dare to apply that term to her own hus-
band's mother. And when my husband was
• geanral too t and the one before that i^
colonel ! I declare to you, Jane, that I have
never received half my due for all the trouble
and anxiety I took on her behalf, corrying
that horrid child all the way to Normandy in
my arms, and every one wanting to see what
I bad got in my bundle. I thought I should
have thrown it overboard before we were
half way there.' '
' I can quite believe it, madam ; but as you
were doubtless careful enough not to let Kit
Masters guess your identity, there will be no
difficulty in clearing yourself from blame in
the eyes of Mr. Vivian.'
' Who is Kit Masters T' demanded the
widow.
' He is the father of the baby, madam, and
he has told everybody oi the whole trans-
action. I believe that he will be here to-
morrow to speak to the master himself
About it.'
' Oh, Lord I why did I ever have anything
to do with it ?' exclaimed Mis. Chasemore,
whilst her watery eyes seemed starting from
her head with alarm.
' It will be quite easy to clear yourself from
blame, madam, if you will only take my
advice and tell Mr. Chasemore that you
oarae here to- day for the express purpose
of informing him that when you nursed his
wife, you were unaware that the infant was
not her own, and that now that you have die-
covered that you were made a party toafraud,
you cannot rest till you undeceive him also.
Hark ! there is the carriage ! I will go and
fetch him up here, and yor can tell your tale
at once. Don't tremble so I Take another
glass of sherry. It will steady yo«r
* But if Vivian fMks how I found it ouL
what am I to say T' demanded the wretched
woman, as she tossed down another bumper*
' Say that I told yon I' replied the house*
maid firmly. * I know the mother of ths
child and can make my own story good, and
yours into the bargain.'
She ran downstairs as she oonolnded,
anxious only to bring the belluwrep.ts to-
8 ether before Mrs. General Chasemore's
>utoh courage should evaporate.
She found the party in the drawing-room*
Mr. and Mrs. Vivian Chasemore, ana Miss
Selina Farthingale, who had caught sight
of them in Oxford Street and insisted ujpon
entering the carriage, and they were just-
inquiring of the footman if any one had call-
ed during their absence.
Jane went up straight to her master's
side.
' Yes, sir, some one has called ancTis wait-
ing to see you on most particular business in
my mistress's boudoir.'
' To see me, Jane T' repeated Vivian with
surprise. ' Who is it — a lady V ,
' Yes, sir ! and please wiU you come
directly, as she says her business will not
wait.'
' How mysterious !' quoth Vivian,langhing
as he walked leisurely up the stairs.
Jane lingered behind one moment to ac-
cost her mistress.
' You'd better come too, madam/ she said
seriously, ' and bring Miss Farthingale with
yon, for it's Mrs. Oeneral Chasemore, and
she's nearly wLd with drink.'
The pallor of death seemed to overspread
Regina s beautiful features. »
' What on ea^th can she hava to say to
Vivian ? ' she demanded of Selina Farthin-
gale.
' I cannot tell you, madam/ said Jane^ an*
swering the question ; ' but I wish y^
would be present at the interview, for she
seems dead set against you, and detdares she
is determined to tell tne master all your
secrets.'
' Selina, for Heavei<'s sake oome and stofi
h^r tongue I The woman must have gone
mad ! ' exclaimed Regina, as she followed
Vivian up the stairs.
TL^y all reached the boudoir together,
just as he was about to open the door. Mriu
Oeneral Chasemore was seated in her chair
with her arms lolling on the table, and her
large eyes fixed upon the entrance. She
was very much excited by the wine she had
taken, but the shock of believing her fraud
to be discovered, and herself in actual dan-
ger, had so far cleared her brain that she
Wr
THE BOOT OF ALL BVIL.
191
yomt
itohed
jhpcr*
tionM*
oftha
d, Mid
laded,
to to.
imore'a
'•room»
{ MiM
1 upon
adoall-
DMtor'a
\b wut>
tineMin
iMiwiih
a com*
wiU not
laughing
ii to
M-
ihoMdd
•le with
iore, and
enpread
) aay to
Farthin-
for afie
ahe
your
nd atof
kve gontt
ffollowad
ether,
,-- M"*
Ler chair
land her
ice. She
the had
let fraud
Inal dan*
Ithatihe
waa quite oi^pable of relating her atory with
coherence and determination.
' You here I ' exclaimed Vivian, aa hia eye
1*11 upon the figure of hia atopmother. ' I
thougnt I had Men auffioiently frank with
you to prerent any further meeting between
' Oh, Vivian 1 you have been very cruel
wad unjust to me, I know that ; but you are
your poor father'a own ion, and I cannot
•tand by and aee you deceived without raia-
iag mv voic* to tell you aa'
' Wnat folly is thia T ' he demanded an-
grily.
' Mra. Ohaaemore,' interposed Regina, with
^mbline lips, 'had you not better come
into the dr*8Bing«room with Selina and me ?
f ou and Vivian never got on well together,
7*n know I '
' Don't go,' whispered the housemaid, ' she
only wanta to prevent j our speaking, and to
ruinyou I'
' No, I won't go ! ' repeated the widow
aloud. ' I must speak — I won't be ruined I
I never knew, Vivian, when I attended
your wife in her illness, that the child was
not her own. I thought, of course, every-
thing was right ; but now that I am told —
who am I to say told me ?' she asked in a
loud voice aside of Jane, who stood behind
her. But before the girl could answer,
Begina had sprung like a wild c«t at Mrs.
Cfeneral Chasemore.
' You are mad I * ahe said. ' You don't
Know what you are talking about — you've
lieen drinking. Vivian, don°t let her speak I
Cannot you see that she is the worse for
liquor? It's infamous— it's dissraoeful
Why should creatures of this sort be allow-
*d to enter the housen of decent people ? '
' If this woman is here with the permis-
(rfon of any one, you know it is not with
mine,' said Vivian, sternly ; 'but since she
i* here, Begina, I shall not refuse her the
ordinary coorteay due to a visitor. Go on,'
he continued, turning to his stepmother,
^and let me hear all you have to say.'
' No, no, ne 1 ' screamed his wife, losing
eontrol of herseli ' She shall not speak—I
willkiUherfiratl'
S'Beaina, for Heaven's sake command
uraeul' interposed Selina. 'You will
tray everything by such conduct.'
' Oh, of course they will try and stop my
tongue, because they are both in the plot ;
Imt they shall not prevent my telling what I
h«ve heard. Vivian, that child is not your
ownl'
' What ! ' he cried vehemently.
' You needn't look like that. I mean that
it'a not yours, nor hers either. It's the child of
« poor person that they've palmed upon you. '
said Vivian, In a very
leant againat th* wall for
'Merciful Ood
low voice, aa h*
■uppori
* You wicked eld woman I ' aoroamed
Selina. ' It'a every bit a lie, and yon need
not auppose that Mr. Chasemore will b*
such a fool as to believe yuu.'
' A lie I Why you bousht the child your^
self in Drury Lane, and paid a hundred-
pounds for it I '
* I never did I I never saw the child, nor
Regina, either, till six weeks after its birth^
so I could have had no hand in it.'
' Oh, yon false hussy I If I hadn't proof*
against you, do you think I should be here ?
But I've found out all your wickedness, and'
Regina's too, and that's why I cannot hold
my tongue any longer 1 '
' I thnusht you were present at the birth
of the child,' said Vivian, in a voice still low
with horror.
' So she was I she wrote and told you so
herself. She is only saying this now because
she wants to make a quarrel between us,
Vivian,' sobbed his wife. But he took no
notice of her.
' It is a mistake,' continu'<d Mrs. Chase*
more. ' When I saw Regin^^ at Pays-la*
reine, the infant was already there. Sho
said it had been born during the night,
and of course I believed her. She was so
nervous about breaking the news to you, that
I wrote that letter at her dictetion, and if
puy one is answerable for the contento, it is
herself. '
' How you have deceived me all round I '
groaned Vivian.
' But su. ^ly you are not going to believe
what this woman tells you ? ' exclaimed Re-
gina. ' Ask her for her proofs, Vivian. Am
I to be condemned in this horrible manr^/
on the word qf a drnnkwU woman ? Seiina,
tell him that it is false — ^that you know
she was present at the time the child watf
born.'
' I cannot say more than I have done,'| re^
plied Selina,, sullenly ; ' and I wish to good*
nesc I had not been mixed up in the affair
at all.'
'I dare say you do miss,' observed tho
housemaid.
' Why, what have you to say in the mat*
tor?'
' Only that Mrs. General Chasemore gavo
me the whole history before your arrival,
and, true or false, it is an awkward busines*
to have one's name mentioned in connection
with.'
' It is none of yours, anyway, so
hold your tongue.'
' Mrs. Chasemore,' said Vivian, 'I csnnot
let the matter rest here. You say that tho
you can
188
THS ROOT OV ALL BVIL.
IbImI tiiAl I hsT* led to believe my own be* |
leogt to MMtber peraun, and wm boaftht for
m ■am of mooey. Tb«t it wm my wife Mid
Miae FMrtbitig«le who oonoired to palm this
wiokedfraad on me, and that yon knew
nothing of the truth until lately. How did
yon diaoorer it t'
The widow waa now at a oonplni, and
Jane aaw that ahe muit oome to the r«»*
one, or ahe would be defeated. So, advano-
in^ to the table, ahe aaid in a firm loud
Toico :
' It waa I, Mr. Chaiemore, who provided
thia lady with the requisite proof.'
'Youl Why, you are the kouimaid'a
oouain, are you not Y
' I entered your houae in that oapaeity, in
order that I might expoee the hideous fraud
that ia going on here, with the attempt to
rob Sir Arthur Chaaemore of his future righta.
I have the best proofs poaaible to lay before
yon. I know the mother of the child that
IS being nnrsed upstairs as your son and
heir, and oan produce her at any moment to
reoogniae it, and tell you under what oircam«
atanoes ahe was deprived of it. I know the
father who sold it to Miss Farthinsale— the
« woman who assisted at its birth — the marks
by which they oan determine its identity ;
and if yon are not eatistied with what you
have heard, I will hnaf^ forward an array
of witnesses against which there can be no
i^peaL'
' She knows everything I' cried Regina, as
ahe hid her face from the angry eyes of her
husband.
' And who may yon be, who take such an
intereat in exposing thia unhappy business ?'
demanded Vivian. The housemaid turned
her eyes full upon Selina Farthingale. The
moment of her final triumph had arrived.
'Good Heavens t' exclaimed that young
lady, reoogniaing her for the first time ; ' it
IB Janet Oppenheim.'
' No, Miss Farthingale you are mistaken I
I waa Janet Oppenheim. I am the wife of
Sir Arthur Chaaemore.'
• My cousin's wife !' said Vivian ; • and
you have stooped to fill the place of a me-
nial in our eatablishment ?'
',1 hare stooped, Mr. Chaaemore, in order
to defend my husband's rights. You could
hardly expect me to sit down quietly and
■ee a false son and heir nurtured for the in-
heritance which lawfully belongs to those
who may oome after him.'
Vivian Chaaemore sunk into a chair and
buried his face in hia hands.
' And I had learnt to love him so,' he said
utterly.
At that moment, a knock was heard at
the door, and Mra. Fleming entered with m
flurried air.
* Oh, if ^on pleaae, ma'am, the baby's taken
vdry ill with croup. I moat have the doctor
immediately. WiU you pleaM to order for
him to be fetched at once V
But no one anawered her. Regina wa»
lying face downwards on the sofa, an4
Vivian was ■ Iting in an attitude of despair
at the other end of the room.
' Oh, please, sir I what am I to do f oon<
tinned the nnrse, appealing to her master.
'Let him die I' waa the nnoongeniai answer.
'Not so!' said Lady Chaaemore. ' H»
has a mother who lovea and valnea him.
Order Thonua to 70 at once for Dr. Morton,
nnrse, and do evenrthing yon oan for tht
baby till he arrives.'
' Yes, I will. But is there anything wrong-
here, Jane ?' demanded Mrs. Fleming, as sha
looked round at the strangely assorted grou|^
in the boudoir.
•Yrs, veiy wrong. They have received
bad news. You will hear it all by-and-by.
But now you must ko and look after th»
child,' said Janet, as she thrust her from tha
room.
Vivian rose and went and stood before hi*
wife.
' Regina,' he said, , tell me the truth I la
what we have heard a lie or not I'
• Oh. Vivian ! Vivian I I did i tier yowr
sake.'
' Silence,' he answered sternly, ' and don't
add another falsehood to the horrible wrong
you have done me. Did you buy that infant
for a hundred pounds, and is the whole stoijr
of your having borne it at Pays-la-Reine a
Ue?'
* They persuaded me to do it I" she sobbed.
' I should never have thought of it alone.
But I imagined yon were diaappointed with
me — and it seemed so hard that the money
should go from us for want of a child t*
inherit— and so — and so — oh, Vivian I kill
me, but do not look at me in that manner t
I have never had one happy moment ainoe I
consented to deceive you.'
He turned from her cotemptpously.
' Lady Chaaemore, I believe jrou told m»
you conld produce the mother of thia nn>
fortunate chUd. How long will it tkke yot
todofo?'
' Not an hour, Mr. Chaaemore I I will
take a cab and bring her back with me ai
once I
* Will you be good enough to do so, and
let me know when she is heiti ? Until then
I have no wish to be disturbed. But tha
sooner thia shameful business is completed,,
and my house cleansed from the stain of da>
ceit that rests upon it, the better.'
.THK ROOT Ol'^LL SyiL.
lt»
win
meai
th«B
t th«
leted^
of d*-
80 Mjing, 1m walked into hii own drtM*
iiig>rooin Mid lookod the door behind him.
The fonr Women left in the boudoir looked
nt eeoh other for ttie first time.
* Well, roiie. end n nice part you're pley*
ed in tliie little gnme,' obierred Selina
S'tefnUy, m ihe met the eyee of Jenet
Momore.
' Whet you think or do not think of my
conduot, Mile Farthingele, ie of no moment
to me , but I ihall be obliged if you will
•ddreee me by my title in the future. It ui
not neuel in eooiety to call married women
' I don't know who ^yon may hare been,
irighed Regina, *bnt I think you hare done a
moat oruel and unjust thins, Lady Chase*
more. And until you reaily prodnoe the
proofs you spoke of, I for one will not allow
the ohiid to oe thrust from my house as an im*
poster.'
' I don't think yon will have the option of
ohoice, Mrs. Vivian,' returned Janet, 'for its
mother will not let it remain here for an
hour after she has seen it. Bat I must leave
you now to amuse yourselves as best yon
may till my return. I see the old lady is
more than half asleep, so I can trust her with
safety to the meroy of your tongues. I am
quite aw%re that she liei all round ; but self*
preeervation is the grst instinct of nature, and
inculpating herself would not have saved you.
It has beisn an awkward business from
beginning to end, Mrs. Vivian, and next time
you attempt to carry out sn intrigue I should
advise you to be more careful in your ohoice
of confederates. " An revoir." '
And, with a light-hearted nod, Lady
Ohasemore left them to their own reflections,
and whispered dread of what penafty they
might be called upon to pay, now that their
crime had been discovered. As she emerged
upon the landing she was caught hold of by
Mrs. Fleming;
' Oh lor, Jane I where is the mistress ?
The dear baby's awful b»<l. He just been
took with a fit,and I don't know as he'll
hold out till the doctor comes ; and chat
wet-nurse is no manner of nse at alL The
mistress ought to be told at onoe.'
' Take my advice, nurse, and don't disturd
them. They're in great trouble, and wish t
be alone,'
' But they'll never let their own flesh and
blood die without ever coming to have a
look at him surely.*
' Gtoback to the nursery, and don't leave
itt till 1 return. There is a great surprise
in store for you, and you'll know it as soon
as I come baok again.'
* Oh dear I oh dear I' cried the nurse,
wringing her hands ; ' I do wish that ther*
dootor would be quick and come.
Lady Ohasemore left the house without
further delay, and drove at onoe to Clarenon
Lodge, The Christmas holidays were not
?ret uver,and Miss Netherwood was ■taying
n the country, so she experienced no diflT
oulty in proonring Belton to retnm with het
She aid not tell the girl positively that sh*
had found her little boy, for fear a disappoint*
ment should be in store for her, but sh*
enlightened her anfficiontly, 00 their way t»
Premier Street, to make mnnie's cheek glow
and her blue eyes beam with the exoitement
of expectatioo, As they entered the hall,
with ita exotic flowers and marble statues, aft
which the girl gased with unmitigated admi-
ration, Thomas aoproaohed Lady Ohasemore.
* I am afraid it s a bad job npstairs, Jane,^
he whispered. ' The doctor had never lefft
the nursery since he entered it, and the
house is umed upside down for hot water
and flannels.'
* Poor little fellow I I hope hell get over
it,' replied Janet, as she thought compassion-
ately of the simple, blue-eyed mother who
followed wondenngly in her wake. On her
way to the nursery she stopped and knocked
at Vivian's dressing-room.
' Mr. Ohasemore I have brought the wit-
nees I promised you. Am I to take her
straight up to the nursery or not ?'
At her appeal he rose slowly and unlocked
the door and stood on the threshold, gazing
at Janet with sorrowful eyes that ohowed
traces of recent emotion. But before he had
time to answer her, Bonnie had recognised
him.
'Oh I' she called eut suddenly, 'it's Mr.
Alfred Waverley ;' and then, without further
prefix, she fell on her knees before him.
' Oh, Mr. Waverley, I told her that you'd
help me, though I never thought to see yoa
here. Oh, sir, try and find my baby. I've
sufiFered a deal since I married Kit Masters,
and he stole the child from me ; but if miss
and you can set him back, I think I could
forgive all that's gone before. Oh, Mr.
Waverley, sir, I never thought to see you.
And then she lay trembling where she had
cast herself, as the great fact of his actual
presence rose up to try her courage. Vivian
raised her from the floor and dragged her to
the window, where the fading light of
the January afternoon made recognition
more practicable*
'QoodQodI is it really Bonnie? Why,
my child, however did yja find me out, and
what have you to do in this house ? '
' Miss Oppenheim brought me, sir,' said
Bonnie^ half alarmed at her own presumed
tion ; ' and I don't know what for, unless
■w
no
THB Rl^OT Of ALL BTIl*
■h« hM hMrd miim news of my poor bftby.
Oh, miM, pleaM doift koop mo in raapenM I '
«k« oontinaod, appoaling to Jnatl ' L»fe mo
know if there ie Any hnpo for me.'
' Tee, Belton, I b»Te treoed your ohild,
tkongh yon will flud him maoh altered from
whet he wee when yon perted with him.
Mr. Oheeemore, this ie the mother of the in>
fMt up-etaire I '
* Thie 1 ' he repented, wonderinffly. ' Bon-
nie I My God, wee it not enoai^n to wrong
me ee they have done, without making me
the unoooaoiona injarer uf tiiie poor innooent
flrlf '^
Bonnie wee looking vagnelv from one to
the other, unable to underetand the import of
"ViTian's apeeoh, when Dr. Morton oame
keetily down the nnnery.etaira.
'Mr. Ohaeemore, I reerettotell yon that
4he iufant i« very seriouelT ilL I chink yon
had better oome and lee it. And would it
not be ae well to bring your wife with you ?
She might reproach ue afterwards for not
bavins let her know.'
' All right, Morton t I will do wttat ie
neoeeaary. Takeher up-ataira,' heoontinuedto
Janet, pointing to where Bonnie, with dilated
eyea, was listening to the doctor's statement.
' Is that my baby ? ' gasped the girl } ' ie
he dying ? '
' Oh ) I hope not. Come with me, Belton,
Mad let us se<* ' said Janet, aa they followed
in the wak<i of the medioal man.
Vivian had not meant to aucompany them,
but as Bonnie looked back beeeeohingly at
him, some liope of sustaining her in the fresh
trouble she had to undergo influenced him
also to seek the nursery floor. As they
entered the room they saw the hapless little
baby laid on a pillow upon Mrs. Fleming'e
lap, entirely prostrated by the oonvulsiooe it
had passed through, and peacefully breath-
ing out its last.
* Oh 1 Jane, my dear, I'm i^lad you've
oome, for it's a'most over with the poor Iamb,'
cried Mrs. Flemine as' she caught sight of
Lady Ohasemore. But the next moment
she waa startled by seeing Bonnie sprins
forward and sink on her knees by the side of
the dying infant
' Oh I it is— it is my baby ! See, miss,
here is his little ' ' pig'a ear " that I told you
of, and his dear little face scarcely idtered a
bit. Oh I my boy — my boy I '
'Who are you?' demanded the nurse,
querulously. ' Get away, and don't press so
agaiast the ohild. I can't have the poor
dear disturbed in his last moments.'
Bonnie's violet eyes sought those of
Vivian, appealingly.
'Mr. Waverley !
'Fleming,' he said authoritatively, 'give
the infant to that young woman I She ia his
mother I'
'Sirl' exolaimed the nurse in aatoniah*
UMnt*
' Do aa I tell you t thia Is no moment for
explaaatioiia. Morton, oblige me by aaying
nothing till it ia all over.'
Mra. Fleming laid the pillow deferen-
tlally on the lap of Bonnie, who had aeat-
ed heraelf upon the ground to receive it,
uid joined the group who atood around
her in inatinctive awe of the ailent
meaaenger who folded hia wings amongst
them, even then.
',My little boy,' said Bonnie softly, in a
atrange voice that thrilled the bystanders ;'
' my uttle boy, will you know m^ again in
Heaven? Oh I I never dreamt I should
find you like this. I thouj^ht I should live
all my weary life, darlins , without seeing yon
again, and that you'd be a big strong man
when I waa an old woman, and it ia very
strange to think that you are going heme
before me I Oh I my little angM— rstop 1 I
have nothing but you in the wide world!
Don't go and leave me all alone. Baby —
baby 1 don't look so blue and pinched. Oh t
sir,' to the doctor, ' do yon think if I were to
lay him next my bosom that he would grow
warm again V
' No, poor aoul ! don't do that. Yon will
only make him die the aooner.'
' Can nothing save him ? Sir ! he ia my
only one, and we have been parted ao long.
Is that there liothinff else that we can do t I
know you must be clever. Caimot you save
this litUe child for me V
'Indeed, I cannot— or I would! It is
God's will that he should leave us. You
must try and be patient and submit.'
* Oh ! I have been patient. Indeed, Mr.
Waverley, I have. I have had so many
troubles since you left us, sir, and thia aeems
the worst of luL Oh 1 baby darling, I am
your mother I Open your eyea and look zt
me just once before you go.'
And, as if an answer to her agoni'tod
appeal, the little ohUd did open his eyee for
a single instant, before the film of death
passed over tiiem, and he was g(»e.
CHAPTER 2L
' I AX OLAP YOV MVB HUf.'
As soon as they found that they could
make their escape without being noticed,
Selina Farthingale and Mrs. General Chase-
more had slipped downstaim and Quitted
the house. But Regina, left to herself, was
ansiouB and irritable,and hearing an unusual
bustle overhead, became curious to ascertain
TEM BOOT or ALL EVIL.
\
^H
It ia
Yom
jreafor
death
coald
Cotioed,
IChaM-
lqaitt«d
llf , wu
inn«iud
Brtain
and puahad h«r ini(f into tb*
naiMiy.
'Why have yoo all aMemUed heref she
inamrad. < What ia the matter f
B'Thatis the matter/ rejplied herhoahaad
iMmly.ae he pointed to the dead child «pon
Bonnie'e lap; 'there liee the infant who
might have been alive and well at thii
moment had yon not torn it from its moth*
er'i breast with yonr onreed hnndred
ponnda 1'
' Dead 1' she exclaimed in a tone of hor>
ror.
Then Bonnie perceived that ibe was child*
leMi,and ipmng to her feet,olaaping the little
body to her bMom.
'Are von the woman that robbed mef
nhe cried fiercely to Regina. ' Is it yon who
Sersnaded that cmel man to sell his own
esh and blood ? Oh I Mr. Waverley.' she
continued pathetically to Vivian, 'tell me yon
had no hand in this matter ; yon wouldn't
have wronged me, after all the years that we
have spent together ?'
* Inaeed, dear Bonnie, I would not ! I
never knew nor heard of this foul transac-
tion till to*day. I have been wronsed, poor
child, almost as much as yourself, for I
was taucht to believe that poor little one
belongea to me, and I loved it dearly —
dearly !'
* I am glad you loved it,' sho answered in
a low voice. ' I am glad, since I was te
lose my baby, that it came to yon . I knuw
you have been kind and good to it — as you
was to me— but oh t Mr. Waverley, 'tis
very hard to find it only to lose it again. '
' We all know that, Belton,' interposed
Lady Chaaemore, ' and we feel for you in
your disappointment ; but even this is bet*
terthan the uncertainty you laboured under
before.'
' Yes, miss, perhaps it is i but I can't find
it in my heart to forgive them as committed
such a cruel robbery upon me I'
She resigned the little body inta the
hands of Mrs. Fleming as she spoke, and let
her arms drop languiuy by ber side.
Dr. Morton had taken up his hat and left
the house, since there was nothing more te
detain him tiiere ; aac. the servants, g~ Try-
ing the true state of a Fairs from the convmr-
sation they had overl aard, weie very cem-
passienate in their manner te Bonnie.
' Let me take him, dear ! ' whispered tkd
nurse into her ear. ' He's been tended like
a price all his lifetime, and he shall be laid
«>irt and buried like a prince — and that I'm
sure the master will promise you.'
' I never knew the child belonged te you !'
a%id R«gina, fizinit her seared eyes upon the
stranger.
' Perhaps not, ma'am ; b«t yoo know ywm
were labbong aome poor mother of her righta.
And what dM you do it for ? What's the
food of children anless they're our own?
Just for the sake of dressing him up in rib*
bona and laoea like a toy, you've broke my
haart,replied Bonnie, sobbing.
* I've nearly broken my own heart, too, '
she answered.
* Do yon want to oompare your grief to^
minat'^eried the bereaved mother; ' DiA
yon carry him In your boeom for months
amid sium trouble as you've never dreamed
o^and thought iiot^in' of kicks nor euffs, foa
the sake of tke little one that was oomin' ;
and then after you'd brought it into the
world, and gone through that dreadful p^in
and suflFerin', and was ready .to forget it all
for the joy of the baby, to have it stole away
from yonr side and sold like a slave to
strangers ? Have you ever had a child
yourself?' continued Bonnie, startling Begina
with the unexpected question.
' No 1' she faltered.
'I thought not There no mother's
heart in vour bosom, or you'd never have
done Much a wickedneee. There is only one
thing I'm thankful for— that he never lived
long enoaah to call you by the name you've
got BO risht to ! It's better to think of him
in his coffin than to live to see that 1'
'Oh, Vivian i can you hear every one turn
against me, and not give me one word of
comfort ?' cried the wretched Regina.
' Don't appeal to me 1' he answered coldly.
' My only doubt is whether I shall be justi-
fied in not prosecuting you openly for this
fraud, left 1 should M suspected of having
had a hand in it. Don't speak to me or look
at me ] You have iafiicted a more grievous
wound upon my heart than you vrill ever
have it in your power to heal.'
' Oh, merciful God, have pity en me T
moaned the poor girl, as she cast herself
upon the be<C ' My punishment is greater
Mum I can bear !'
' Yon have brenght it on your own head^
Begina. Your real motives in attempting to
cheat me and the world, as you have done,
are best known to yourself ; but if they were,
as you have hinted, to win back my a£feotion,
they have utterly failed. I will never live
withyou again after to-day !'
* Vivian, Vivian ! have Uicrey on me 1 •
' What mercy have you shown to me or
to this unfortunate mother T I can never
think of you again but as of one whuee hands
are stained with the blood ef that inno-
cent babjr ! Pray to God for forffivenese,
if you will. You have none to look for
from me \ Mrs. Fleming, you will see
that everything neeessary for the interment
u%
THS BOOT OF ALL BVIL.
oompauion. She
and stood ■'>nrotr*
of tho ohild ii cArriod oul with Iho-
owo M tbongh he were wh«t he haa
■apposed to be — my son. Poor litt e one 1
•oontinued VivUn, m he stooped to kiss the
■urMe foreheed of the deed infent ; ' I
oonld not hare loved you more had you
been minel'
Then he turned on his heel uid left the
room without Another word.
i He u gone I ' cried Regin« ; ' and he
will never return egain I Oh, Vivian I
Oh, my husband 1 I love him so I I wish
I hid been dead before I attempted tode*
oaive him I'
At these words, uttered in a tone
of despair, the sweet pitiful heirt of
Bonnie was stirred to
walked up to the bed,
fully by Regina's side.
* Poor Udv I I don't think yon meant
to hurt me/
'Indeed, indeed, I didn't 1 flow oould
I tell the ohild was yours t And they
told me the man was so ready to part
with it 1 I thought it was doing him a
kindness.'
' I have seen your face before : onoe in
Bond Street, when you spoke gently to
me: and onoe when you were married to
hii£u Don't cry so terribly I 'He will be
sure to oome baok asain.'
'Oh no, he wont. This is the second
time I have driven him from me, and I
know it will be the last. But it will kill
me I I cannot live without him I '
' You shall not. I will follow and send
him back to you.'
' You 1 How oan you persuade Vivian
■against his will t'
' You call him by another name than what
I knew him as ; but I am Bonnie, whom he
knew BO well and was so kind to for four
jrears, and I am sure that he will let me
■epeak tohim.'
She walked up to her dead baby and kissed
it just where Vivian had left the impress of
his lipa.
* Good-bye 1' she whispered, with sobbing
breath ; ' good-bye t I am glad he loved
20U 1 We sliall meet him agam, by-and-by,
i heaven.'
Then she turned to leave the room.
' Belton, where are you going V demanded
Lady Ghasemora.
' Baok to Clarence Lodge, miss ; but I
havA a little business to do Urat. No, don't
come with me. I would rather be alone.'
When she had reached the landing she
retracted her stops, and again approached
Segina's bed.
'I forgive you, poor lady 1' she murmured.
with trembling lip«. ' I am sure that you
was kind to him, aid I forgive yon.'
Then they heard her faltering feet deeoend
the staircase, and they were left alone with
the dead child and their own thonghte. '
Of oonrse the news ef the baby's death
and the discoverv involved in it reaohed the
cars of L%dv William Nettleehip, in some
miraculous manner, almost as soon as they
had occurred, and brought her to Premiw
Street the next morning, eager after a dish
of scandal The old woman resembled the
eagle only in one particular — that where the
carrion carcase lay, there would she gather
with her particular friends to discuss it in all
its bearings.
Regina, having been left abne by every-
body (Lady Ohasemore, even, having taken
her departure to the arms of her lord and
master), had passed a miserable night, full of
fear and horrible conjecture, and was still
lying languidly in her bed, when, to her
dismay- her mother was ushered into her
presence. Then she knew what she might
expect, and felt all her sorrow change to
desperation, like a wild animal driven to
bay.
' Dear me, Regina,' exclaimed Lady Wil*
liam, looking like a bird of evil omen as she
sat by the bedside shaking her paralvtio
head at her daughter. ' I am shocked to
hear from Thomas that the poor child's really
gone, though if what people are saying is
true, it is just as wellperhaps that it should
be out of the way. What m this dreadful
story 1 hear about his not being your child
at all ? I came over expressly to ask you.
My housemaid met your ooolc last evening,
and she was full of it Of course it's untrue,
but it's very unpleasant. How on earth did
it get about? Vivian must have it contra^
dieted at once.'
Regina trembled with agitation. She knew
it would be useless to attempt to deceive
Lady William on a point which sooner or
later must be public property, and therefore
she determined to brave out and carry it off
with a high hand.
' Vivian will not take any trouble in the
matter.' she reolied, with affected careless-
ness, ' and for the very good reason that the
story is perfectly true. The ohild was not
mioe. 1 adopted it 1'
'Not yours 1' screamed her mother in a
shrill f idsetto. ' Do you mean to tell me that
the whole account of your being confined at
that outlandiah place in Normandy, and
nearly dying except for the assistance of
that horrid oreature the dowager, was a
myth ! Why, it that be the case, you and
^?°'»> .»•»«». I don't odl n«n-, i
TH« BOOT OF ALL ITli,
->^Hi«^ nuiininill dan'* «.ii 100 W«JL' —.»'"•"«• MBf
,".t*«" •-.'". put .uoh I mor.r '"'"••' Mi tJSa ChC
'NolhinK better 1 B»t , _ .
k!' W w'".,.^'°J «"»n«ar«>« ft J^^'^"»™i•«tt«F„^'^^°''•'•l»l''•
— ^,uul
i don't denv it i j «..
* •* I WMM.pt pupil, «,d
TBI ROOT Of ALL lYIL-
iMBd oal U * fool. Bat I didn't giv*
voa ortdit for Moh an •ztrtma of folly m
ikia. Yoa had bottor riog th« bdl for Mr.
OhMomoro. H« u tha propor poraon to
dry yonr tMurs. I ■hould ooiy bo MooMd
•I nvpoorisy if 1 Attemptod to do ax'
'H« i* not hare. Ha haa laft ma, and
in all probability I ahall navar aaa him
•fain,' aaid Kagina. ' .4a haa found oat
that ife waa my onraad ambition that lad ma
lo marry him, and ha will oot baliava now
that my fabo haart ia oapabla of aaoh a
thinii aa lova.'
' flow ^•rj romantio i ' anaarad Lady
William. ' Bat it raally ahooka ma to haar
foa awaar ao. If thaaa are the morala of
ramiaro Straat, I raally think that the
•ottnar 1 ratarn to my "demi>rep" frianda
Iha batter. Thay, at all eTenta, aaa not in
the habit of uaing oatha to anforoa thair
nrgamanta.'
* Oh, go, uo, cried Ragina paaaionataly.
'Every word yon aay ia a freah aggrava-
tion to ma. 1 will not anawer for myaalf
if yoa remain here longer.'
Ami au Ladv William ahuffled out of her
danghter'a bad-room and want down to the
lower fluor, where she summoned the aer-
Tabts in turn, and having axtraoted all the
details of the aoandal from their lips pro-
0*>aiied to make a tour of the houses of her
moat intimate friends to retail what ahe
had heard to them.
And meanwhile her unhappy daughter
lay on her pillow with her faoe downwards,
w<mderina if she should ever see Vivian
•gain, and if ao, what words she oould use
in order to make him believe ahe loved
biiu.
On the aameday,and about the same hour
Mr. Farthingale aeated in his private office
in the city, waa handed the card of Sir Arthur
Chasemore. Now his daughter Qelina, for
ijeaaons of her own, had atudiously avoided
giving him any intimation of what had taken
{tlaoe in Premier Street the day before, pre>
erring that the eircumstauces of the oaae
ahonld oeme to his knowledge their own
way. He was therefore, ^uite unprepared
for seeinp; the baronet enter the office with a
lady on bis arm.
' Oud bleas my soul, Miss Oppenhaim !
This is very unexpected indeed I' ha said
fnasily, as he set chairs fer his visitors.
' The lady haa changed her name. Mr.
Farthingale. Allow me to introduce you to
Lady Chaaemora.'
The little lawyer atared in mute aatoniah*
mont.
' Your wife. Sir Arthur ? ' he stammered
atlasi
' My wife, Mr. Farthingale, as fast as the
law can make bar. And tharafora yoa wU'
not ba aarpriaad that wa hnva ooma heia
thia morning on baainaaa. Aa Lady Chaaa-
mora'a hnaband, I am antitlod to aak you
how aoon yoa intend to aattlo «p tha aflaira
of bar lata aont, Mra. Mathar.'
'I raally don't ondaratand yon, Sir
Arthur ; I baliava thara ia a liMla aomatliing
due to Misa Oppen— I mean Lady Chaaanwra
—and whan I hava time to look into tha
matter, I will let yoa hare an ofBoial atnta>
mant bat — *
' Yoa moat ba good anongh to maka tin j,
Mr. Farthingale and I fanoy whan yoa oo
regularly to work yon will find that tna
" little aomathing " ia m6ra thnn yoa ima*
gina. Here is a letter from Lady Chaaa*
mora'a ancle in Bombay, in which ha stataa
that hia aiatar laft variona aama of money,
chiefly in railway acrip, amonnting in all ta
some aistaen or aightaan thonaand poanda,
and that th#t papera muat neaeaaarily ba in
the t. 'nda of her aoliciter,'
'Thia '« moat extraordinary,' aaid Mr.
Farthingale, <m>wing very rod. ' Who ia
this Bombay wiala ? ! noTer heard of
him before.'
'Perhaps not, Mr. Farthingale,' interpoaad
the ailvery tonea of Lady Ohaaamora. ' My
aant fhad quarrelled with him for many
years, and never mentioned hia name ; but I
knew it, and finding yon were aa very long
in settling her affairs, I wrote and aaked hia
advice aa to what I had batter do.'
' Why did yon not apply to me. Lady
Chaaemore ? You know that ever ainoe tha
death of your lamented aunt, I have only
been too anxiona to land yon OTory aaaistanoa
in my j;K>wer,' aaid the lawyer, with mnch
oonfuaion.
•^'Ohl of eonraa I know yo« wwe Terr
good in procuring me an nnder-teachara
place at Clarence Lodge, and promiaing, if
poasible, to sare a little money for me out of
the wreck of poor auntie'a fortune, bnti hare
been waiting fox it three yeara, Mr. Farthin-
gale, and ao both I and Sir Arthur think it
is about time we were provided with a state-
ment on the matter. '
' What xorip ia in your posaeeaion belong-
ing to Lady Chaaeracra ?' demanded tha
baronet atemly. ' I ha^e no intention of
leaving this nmo* until I know, Mr. Farthin-
gale.'
* Oh I really. Sir Arthur, I hope yon won't
be hard on me. 1 have had so much bnai-
neaa of importance on my hands lately, that
I have had time to thiuktof nothing elaa.
This scrip had to ba aold ant and collected,
Sir Arthur, for I never imagined that Misa
Oppen — I mean Lady Chaaemore — would
eoutiuue to tr6uble herself with shares ; and
are jroo wil'
eomt h«it
Mdj OhsM*
to Mk you
you, Sir
laoiiMlliiiig
rChMwuoN
k into libt
Boi«l stoto.
make tin j,
h«n yoa so
id that tM
THE ROOT OF ALL ETIL
141
I Toa loui*
Miy ChaM-
ih no itatM
of monayi
K in all to
ad poandi,
larily ba in
Mid Mr.
'Who is
haard of
'intorpoaed
ore. ' My
for many
ame ; bat I
» Tery long
1 aaked hia
me, Lady
r since the
hare only
assistance
th maob
riire rery
■teaoher'a
lising, if
I me out of
mtl hare
Farthin-
think it
1 a stato-
belong-
Ided the
ptiea ef
(Farthin*
Won't
Ich bnsi-
Uy. that
Ing else.
^Ueoted,
%t Miss
would
s : and
b<i{ng so comfortably situated ss I believed
with Miss Netberwood, I thought a little
delay would be of minor consequence. How>
ever, if you wish it '
' Call yourolerlc io at oaee, sir, and let ua
see Mn. Mather's will'
The lawyer, trembling with agitation, was
compelled tu produce the document m ques*
tion, which waa spread out upop the table
and carefully examined.
' Why, her J is a matter of sixteen thoas<
and pouuds, producing au income of eight
hunared per anoum, invested in six com*
panics, the scrip of which is in your posses*
sion. What hava you to say for yourself, Mr.
Farthingale, for having kept silence on this
subieot for three years T '
'indeed, bir Arthur, I had nothing but
Miss Oppen — Lady Ohasemore's interests
at heart ia delaying the selling out of these
a a*es. The times 1 ave been very hard, acd
ane wouM have lost a considerable sum of
money on them.'
' Aud her income T '
' Oh, the income is all right ! ' replied Mr.
Farthingale, with a forced attempt at some
merriment. ' 1 felt myself in the position
of this dear lady's father, you know, Sir
Arthur, and exterted thn parental privilege
of laying by a nest*egg agaiust her marriage
— which I shall be > >»t truly happy to make
over into the hand of sc worthy a recipient
as Sir Arthur Chasemore.'
' Very considerate of you, I am sure. You
will be good enough, then, to pay the sum of
two thousand four hundred pouu<ls, with in*
torest, into my bankera' — Messrs. Calvin aud
Oo. —and to deliver over the scrip in your
possession to my solicitor, Mr. Faithful, of
Nathan*atreet, Holborn.'
' Mr. Faithful, your solicitor. Sir Arthur 1
Do I understand that yon intend to take
your monetary affairs cut of my hands ? '
'Take my affairs out of your hands,
you scoundrel I ' cried the baronet, in a,
tury. 'I should think I did. And you
may consider yonrsiilf deuced lucky that I
don't kick you out of your own otfice into
the bargain.'
'Thelaw, Sir Arthur I the law I' remon-
strated the red-haired little lawyer, as he got
bcUiud a ctiair.
' D n the law, you cheat I If you
don't pay in that two thousand four hundred
pounds with due interest to Calvin's this
afternoou, and Faithful doee not receive the
scrip at the same time, vou shall have more
of the law than you will like ; for I'll indict
you for retaining my wife's money with in-
tent to defraud her of it. So yon may take
your clioice between prompt payment or a
trial for swiudlini; ;' aud to aa^iug.Sir Arthur
swung out of the office with Janet, amiling
serenely, on his arm. She had only one
regret connected with the interview— that
Seliua ul not been present at it. Mr.
Farthingale slunk home that evening in the
meet abject spirit h.
' We are ruined, Selina,' he said : ' we are
ruined . I've had to rt^fund the whole of
Janet Oppenheim's money with intertet, and
I haven't enougl. capital left to carry on my
busineas with.
' More fool yon to let the minx outwit
you I' was the hlial reply. • Sir Arthur's
got a bargian. I wish him joy of it'
' So you know they are married i' said her
father. ' When did you hear of it ?'
Thereupon she told him of the distloiiures
that had taken plaoo in i'remier street the
day before, concealing, as was natural to ao
evil a nature, her own share in the trans-
action*, but liberally abusing Mrs. Ueneial
Chasemore and Kfgina for their rantubl de-
ceit and fraud.
' Mrs. Chasemore !' quoth Mr. Fartliin*
gale ; • the general's widow. You don't
mean to tell me tliat you've quarrelled with
her, Selina "'
•Quarrelied with her I I should think I
had. The vulgar, diaaipated, foul-tongued
old woman. I never mean to speak to her
again. Why, she called ine a hussy.'
' And I have promised to marry her !'
groaned the little lawyer.
' What ?' exclaimed his daughter. ' Have
you been spending your evenings with that
horrid creature, ami has she :r.t.appcd you
into an engagement? You ought to be
ashamed of yourself, at your age. But
do not imagine that I shall remain here
to be ruled over by such as ahe. You
must eive me a separate allowance, and
I shall leavA the house and live by my-
self.'
' It is not in my power, Selina. I have
not been quite candid with you with regard
to my income, hoping that you might marry
well, and become independent of me. But
it is almost all gone, and you and Mrs.
General Chasemore will have to make the
best of what remains to us.'
And the ' best ' waa very bad indeed for
the rest of their joint lives.
When Bonnie crept downstairs from the
room in which the body of her dead infant
lay, Vivian bad already closed the hall-door,
and gone forth into the bleak January even-
ing by himself.
The girl's only instinct was to follow him,
though with what purpose she scarcely
knew. The hope of finding her child, which
Kf
THE KUOl t)F ALL liiV^IL.
hfd barely had time to kiadle before it yru
t:«tic«oisb«l, bed left a, sore dull aohing at
h»r be»rt ( bnt that feeling wm notbing oom-
PfMred to ber fe»r of tbe danger which
8«emed to tbreateu the man whom ihe kn«w
only by the name of Alfred V.'averley. She
h*d been witness to his anger and remorae —
she bad heard his last passionate words to his
wife— his avowed determination never to,i«-
turn home again ; and a vague dread possessed
bor that he meant to throw him««lf into
the river, as she had done in her great
ptiu, and thAt at all tszirds she must follow
and bring him baok. With that idea she
passed through the bill again (oevor giving
a thought now to the beaatiful objects
that had entranced her eyes on her en-
trance) and gazed from one end of tbe street
to the other. There had been a fall of
Bnow some days previously, succeeded by a
hard frost that had made tbe roads and
pavements very slippery, and the sky was
overcast by a uniform tinge of grey, render*
ed darker by tbe fast coming night. As
Bonnie stood there, straining her sight to
di«oover some glimpse of her friund, th«
tiold winter blast lifted tbe shawl she wore
and blew her fair hair into ber eyes. At
last she caught sight of his figure crossing
into Great Portland Street,|and set o& as quick
ai the slippery Suate of the pavemeuts Wwuld
permit her, in pursuit of him — up the
Maryl«boae Road as far as Baker Street,
where Vivian suddenly dived into the dry*
land Avenues that does duty for a statioa
in that district. Pantiug and breathless,
keeping her shawl as well as she could
around her with one hand, whilst she held
on her little black bonnet with the other,
Bonnie pnthed ber way amidat tb« crowd
after him. Once she was stopped in her
career by the demand for a ticket, which
she bad entirely forgotten to take, and she
had to run baok with all speed to tbe book-
ing.cifioe, fearful ^^ast Vivian should have
let'ti the plafform before she gained it.
When tbe clerk asked her for what station
she reqnircid her ticket, she answered,
'an>wLer«,' in » tone which made him
remark saucily that it wasn't the line
for flanwell. Bnt when she explained to
him that she '»Ely wished to speak to some
one on tbe plcvlorm, he gave ber a third-
class for Portland Road, and let her go
in peace. She toro down tbe steps like a
mad oreatnre, and on tirst enterins the
station, thought she was too late. But it
was only the pitchy darkness — tbe clouds of
steam— the noise of arriving and departing
trains, and the hoarse announcements of the
porters, tiiat had confused her. Vivian ap*
psrwtly hvi not yet made up his mind
where tp go, for presently her eyes discerned
him in the further comer of the platforin,
gazing moodily at some advfirtisements, and
in another moment she wiiiS at bis side.
'Mr. Waverley,' she said, pluckiqg his
sleeve to attract his attention. ' Mir, Waver*
l«y,^ oh pray speak to me.'
Tbe gaze that met h«rs was ftill of astou*
ishment,
* Bonnie, my poor child ! what made yoo
follow me here T What do yOn wtmt of me ?'
' Oh, Mr. Waverley, pi^y come home 1'
' I have no home, child. 'Home is a place
where there is love and cbntidence, and
mutual respect. I have long ceased to look
for them in my house, and I never mean to
return to it.'
' Oh, don't say that. sir. I was very bad
once, when Kit took my poor baby from me,
and I went and thro wed myself right into
the river ; but th^ gentlemen at tbe hospital
showed me bow wrong I had been, and
made me promise never to do it any more.
You w(m't do Any thing of that sort, willyou,
Mr. Waverley ?'
' No, no. Bonuie. Men have a different
method of drowning their grief. And so
you suffered, poor girl, ^veli to thtf point
of desperation, and never l^t me know ?
How wiss that ? Did yon think I had
ceased to' be your friend because you had
lost sight of lue f
' Oh no, sir ; but poor grandmother (she
died last year, Mr. Waverley) used allay^ to
tell me tliat a grief that can t be cured must
be endured. And who conld have cured
mine? , Onlv I ought tc have budored it
more patiently. And then I knew you were
married, sir^ — — ' with a little tfeihble in her
voice — ' and I thought you had forgot all
about such poor folks as gtkudtnother and
me.'
..'Indeed, iionnie, you vte mistaken, al-
though I deserve the reproach ! I h*TO
never foraotten you, nor the days I parsed in
those little rooms in Dmry Lane; and I bavn
often wished 1 was theiti again, for I have
not been very happy since 1 left them. Qod
forgive me for not having found you out
sooner, and learned all that was happeninff
to yout I might have prevented this foul
business altogether had I done so.'
* Don't speak of that again, Mr. Waverley.
sir! Don't let it fret y oh. I know you feel
for me, loosing my poor baby,bttt no one's so
much to blame for it as ^it. It was his
wickedness from beginning to end, and I
don't think your lady m^nt to bafm me, Mr.
Waverley, nor yet yourself, when you come
to look at it in that light'
* Didn't mean to harm me, Bonnie ! Why,
how could she have harmed me more than by
res dieceroed
lie platform,
lemeote, and
ii> side,
pluckipg his
Mt. Waver.
tdl of astou-
it made yoo
KTimtof me?'
le' home 1'
me is a place
tidence, and
ased to look
)ver mean to
ras very bad
.by from me,
f rinht into
the hospital
, beeu, aiid
t any more.
)rt, will you,
I a different
ef. And so
o thD point
me know ?
bink I had
ise yon had
mother (she
led allay^ to
cnred must
have cured
tsndored it
iwyoa were
mble in her
I forgot all
other and
jstaken, al-
I hure
II p«Sse<cl in
land I hav9
for I have
them. Qod
you out
|happeninff
this foul
Taverley.
'you feel
jto one's so
vas his
|id, and I
me, Mr.
^ou come
Why,
lo than by
THB ROOT OF ALL EVIL.
147
trying to make me rear another person's child
as my own ? Making me waste my holi.
est affections, too,' ho continued, ina oruken
voice, ' on an infant that had no elaiji^ to
them.'
' But oh, sir, she did it for the Ipve of yoa.
Can't you read a. Woman's mind better wan
that T She though^ yoUj dflfpised her for
being childless, aifd that your love was
weaning from her. It was very, very wrong,
sir, and foolish into the bwrgain, bat, she^s
lyinc on her bed now, weeping fit to break
her heart, and it's only you that will be able
to comfort her.'
' She must look for oomfort elsewhere. I
can never forgive her.'
' Don't say that, Mr. Waverl^y. We've
all got too many sins of ourowi^ to dare to
say that of a fellow creature. Why, I
wouldn't dare to say it mvself, even of
Kit. I never wact to see his face again, but
I do hope the Lord will forgive him, as I do,
for he'll have a miserable enough heart to
grow old upon, even with that.'
' You are too good for me, Bonnie, and a
thousand times too good fer Kit. Bat tell
me now (Aince you have mentioned him) is
there nothing that I can do to bring yoa to-
gether again ?
' Oh, no, sir, thank you. I think I must
have been living on the hope of finding my
baby, for now that that's over, I feel as if my
life was over too, and there was nothing left
to live for. Only if you would grant me a
favour, Mr. Wayerley 1 '
' I will do anything for yoa in my power,
Bonnie.'
' Go home to your lady, sir. I know she
loves yuu truly, though she may not have
shown it. Her sobs went to my yerv heart.
I would rather be myself, as I stand at this
moment, than she — poor thing — for she's
poorer than I am if she's lost your love.'
* And what am I to say to her if I do go,
Bonnie?'
The Kirl's voice sunk to a solemn whisper.
* Tell her, sir, that you forgive her, free
and open, for what she's done, if so be 'twas
done for the love of you. And teach her,
sir, to pray for God's forgiveness before
yours, xnd who knows but what He may
send a blessing on you still, and a child of
your own to inherit all your riches ? '
' Ah, Bonnie, you set me too hard a task.'
' 1 don't think so, sir. I think it's what
your own heart is longing to do, if your pride
would only let it. I am sure you must love
hot— such a beautiful lady and so sad, and
who may be the mother of your children yet
—and you will never be happy yourself un-
til there is peace between you.'
' I don't expect any happiness in this
world.'
' Oh ! Mr. Waveirley, there may be plfanty
for yoo— I pfay God ttova. the bottom of my
heart there may— if you.wil) only set about
the right anfay to get it.. ' But perhapti your
poor lady ba^ n^ver had a ' good mother to .
teach her whi^t is right and what i^ wroog,
orw^ece to go for Wp and. comfort when
■he needs it.' , ,
Vivian thought of Lady William it^etUe*
ship^ and shuddered.
' I apt afraid she hasn't, Bonnie.'
•Tli^y used to call me "da^," Mr^
Waverley, and I, do think I h^y&pever been
quite so ready as some folks,^ but since, I
tnrowd myselif into the river and went to the
hospiti^I, things seem to have become a bit
dearer to me than they used tp, be, and I
can see how diffiuult it must be for people to
throw off the teaching of their childnood.
You've le't that yoUrself, haven't you, air!'
'Yes, Bonnie, I have.'
' Then promise me yoa'll be a teacher to
your lady. Mothers' lessons are very hard
to unlearn, but when a woman lovea truly,
her husband can make her do it if h« \uf» a
mind to. Oh. sir, do promise me J' ,.,, ^, ; ,
'Togo back to. poor Reginat' ,
' Yes, and never to leave her agam. Oh !
you don't know the hard thQo'ghtthat creeps
up in a woman's hear^ when her husband ,is
unkind to her. It seems as if everything
was lost. And you will go back this night
or early to-morrow, won't yon sir, and for.
ffive everything (as you hope the blessed
Lord willforgive you at the last), and take
her in your arms and tell, h<^ t^t is ner
honoe evermore ? '
' 1 willtBonnie. But te}I me, whj do yoa
take such an ihterest in my domestic life ? '
The girl had been talking fast and with
much excitement until now, bi^t as Vivian
Sut ' j qnestian, all her courage seemed sod.
only to evaporate.
' I don't* know,' she broke down, sobbing;
' I can't tell, I'm sure ; only I know'd yon so
well, sir, and yon were allays very kind to
me, and my own life seems to be well-nigh
over.
She was wiping the tears from her eyes
with a corner of her shawl, when the railway*
bell and a fresh rush of peoplo on the plat,
form showed that another train was close at
hand.
As the crowd circled around them Bonnie
made a last effort to bind Vivian to hia
word.'
'Promise me i ' she sali earnestly, as she
grasped him by the arm—' by the living
God, promise me t '
But at that iuncture, just as the ponder,
ous ensine with eyes of fire came rolling
through the tunnel with a shriU whistle, a
couple of roagh men mshed between and
.2M&>
PArtad them. VVl... -. ^ ~~
»'»reir Mm off hk iw,:** •>»•■ of hit I
*«• j»»w of *!-.«? o ■? ^ongrilj. WitK I R: ' •'
fcr 1^ o' iti^^:!^'«^o'^lSS "fir •'
Joroe bt^riof ditSttS'iT?'? Wm Wth . d3* "'W, d^wMny
»« *. S,*';^te. " • ""towl r?,.^k ".i^H." """* J^k, ««, g;
, And ViviMk!!|?S "•^ body. *° ^V®'' wftile tirtie iLS^^ir*"' •^•'' yriH be
~w j(iri lud Bhoim ber I
Takurik,
«■. /<■-.
i&ii'
■-'JUi. f
,1'. ft •*-
'J(..
"•nrtr the i, open.
i,«*^?^Wch had
"••••velJed tofiud
I;?**?' cried .
•anJyjMbefow.
"drop of soine.
''oMy,teiidto.
«
till the doctor'*
" opened, il
Jwerealmort
jMteet «mUe
«red lipa.
I-himr *he
•^•r Tin t>e
nnieVi ^th
neinPrehjier
knight hare