ELINOR. There she stood, blithe and lissom, with a flush on her cheek, with a light in her eye, with a gay smile on her lip. Mr. Carington came forward and said,-- Why, my child, where have you been? We all thought you lost." Before she had time to reply a door was burst open, and Lucy Walter ran in crying excitedly, "The Earl is so ill. O please come and help me! Mr. Carington waved the others back, and walked alone to Lord Delamere's room; alone, for Lucy Walter had fainted, and Elinor was straightway doing her best to revive her. He found the Earl ou a couch, almost insensible: he quickly administered some brandy; servants had crowded to the door, but he permitted only one man to remain, an old footman out of livery who looked thoughtful. So soon as he had made these arrangments he returned to the Hall where Lucy Walter was still under Elinor's charge, while the two young men stood in that state of bored helplessness natural to male youth in time of trouble or sickness. Mr. Carington, disregarding all questions, told Stephen O'Hara to ride for the Earl's doctorhaste, post haste, as they said in the olden times. O'Hara started promptly. VOL. XII. с с "Is it dangerous?" whispered Fitz-Rupert. "I think not," replied Mr. Carington. "Spasm of the heart, I fancy. Look here. Will you two smoke or play billiards, or both if you like, and entertain that fellow Ostravieff if he should come into the Hall? I must talk to Elinor before you do." "It is rather hard," said Frank Noel, ruefully, and Rupert Fitz-: Rupert looked an echo of the sentiment. "Pooh, pooh! You see she is safe. You need not want at once to know her adventures, which probably are commonplace enough. Go and study dynamics on the level green cloth: there is much mathematic lore in billiards." "And much brandy and seltzer," said Rupert. "I obey, Carington. My heart is lost: please inquire if anyone has found it." Having found occupation for the young men, Mr. Carington turned to the young women. Lucy Walter did not seem to improve much. Elinor could not manage her: but Mr. Carington took her by the arm, and said sharply, "Come, Lucy, you ought to be attending to your duties. Lord Delamere is very ill all this time. Shake off this foolish weakness, and attend to him." The sharp tone of the reproof was a tonic. Lucy Walter discovered that she could walk to the Earl's room: having made that discovery, she became useful once more. Leaving her there, Mr. Caringtontook Elinor upstairs to the gallery on the first floor, and said very quietly, "Now, child, where have you been?" "Only to Carlisle, sir. I have been staying at the Bush Hotel, where the landlord and landlady are the nicest people with the oddest name only fancy, Cowx! But you got my letter, surely." "No, indeed," he said. "I suppose these snow-storms have kept back the mails. Tell me, then, why did you suddenly leave Hyslope?" "I was frightened. One day as I was walking alone a man dressed! like a clergyman came up to me and told me a long rambling story that made me at first think he was mad. He asked me if I remembered seeing him at the Pheasant Inn, but I didn't, a bit. He said he was chaplain to that Russian Prince, and that the Prince was madly in love with me, and meant to carry me away from Hyslope. He implored me not to go back there just now, and not to say a word. to anyone of what he had told me. He looked so serious that I felt. sure he was in earnest: so, having heard all sorts of horrid things about Russian Princes, I determined not to go home again. I walked to Carlisle; got hospitable entertainment at the Bush; should have stayed till I got an answer from you to the letter you missed, only the Earl's groom and another man came and told me you were at Delamere." "How did they find you out?" asked Mr. Carington. He seems "I think that chaplain of the Prince's told them. rather ashamed of himself for being in that monster's service. Of course the moment I knew you were here I felt safe. But the Earl "Not very, I think. With the exception of weakness of the heart, he has a splendid constitution. We shall not lose him yet, I hope : I heartily hope it, for I want don't believe he has ever done." him to make a proper will, which I "O Mr. Carington, how can you think of it?" "If a man is unjust all his life long, Elinor-and too many of us are-he should at least try to be just on his deathbed. Delamere shall if I can manage it. I have seen more deathbeds and witnessed more wills than most men . . . and I am happy to say that the only legacy I have ever received from my departed friends is the firm faith that no gentleman need be afraid of death." "O Mr. Carington!" Leave me to manage the "Well, we won't shock you, Elinor. Earl. Did you find it very slow at Carlisle ?" 66 "O no. The Bush is in the chief street, and there were such odd people moving about, and there was quite a volume of epigrams written with diamonds on old-fashioned window-panes. had written 'Whene'er I see a man's name Cut upon the glass, I know he owns a diamond, One cynic "Not bad," said Mr. Carington, "though the fellow could not resist the temptation of showing that he also owned a diamond .... and a brain. But didn't the worthy innkeepers think it odd to entertain a girl like you, without any luggage or any companion or any name?" "I don't know what they thought,” she answered, "but they were thoroughly kind. They gave me comfortable rooms and delightful breakfasts and dinners. And Mrs. Cowx, who is the prettiest little woman in the world, lent me a night-dress. O dear! you should have seen me in it." "I dare say you looked rather pretty, Elinor-all the prettier if there was not enough to cover you.' Elinor pinched him. "Now, child," he said, "I must be serious. This is an important time. The doctor will be here soon, I hope. I have had rooms prepared for you on this floor: remain in them till I come to you: if you want anything, ring for it, but do not leave the apartment. This is the door. Good-bye." He kissed her brow, and left her. where burnt a noble fire. Pictures She entered a pleasant room, were on the walls; books on many shelves; the windows gave a wide view over snow-smothered fells. She sank into a chair, and tried to think. I must not tread too closely in the track of her thought, else there is no knowing how many secrets I may betray. When she had meditated a while her natural restlessness led her to look at the book cases. The books were all arrangeable in three classes casuistry, poetry, geometry. Either the little isolated library had been formed by three successive men with a hobby apiece or by one man with three crazes. Some of the books were in manuscript. One was geometric, to supersede that dreadful old bore Euclid; the first definition was... Again: 'A point is an infinitely small sphere." "A circle is a regular polygon with an infinite number of sides." Again: "An angle is the space contained between two infinite lines that meet in a point." These MS. books were written in a quaint small hand, with wide margins, and curious marginalia; and the diagrams were drawn most delicately. Elinor was interested in them, though she knew no more of geometry than is the usual way with girls. Some of the casuistry she found amusing; there were such naughty cases of conscience put -enough to perplex even the gentry who send Mr. Chancellor of the Exchequer conscience money. By the way, hardly had I written this sentence when I noticed that one K. R. J. had sent the said Chancellor £4070, for unpaid income-tax. It may be assumed that he considers he has received about a quarter of a million which he has never accounted for. Does this exhaust his default? Surely, if a man has got behind in payment of income-tax by some error, he ought to go straight to the tax-collector. I question whether the Chancellor of the Exchequer has legal right to receive these anonymous moneys. If I were that unfortunate ministerial cashier, I would use the machinery of the detective police to discover Mr. K. R. J., and would require from him a definite statement of income. If men have more money than they want, they might help their neighbours, their poor relations, their municipalities. In old days, rich men were wise enough to help men of letters, who gave them in return something better than all their gold. From Homer to Walter of the Bird Meadow, minstrels were beloved by kings and chiefs. Now they seem only to love flatterers, panders, ledcaptains. It never occurs to a man with limitless wealth, when a book has delighted him, to repay the author in some slight measure. We are all getting sordid and stingy. I rejoice to see that King Amadeus of Spain is worthy of elder times, and will himself rebuild the Escurial. In some countries, and richer, the monarch would have headed a subscription list subscription list with £1000. Long reign Amadeus! [Alas, even as I read this proof, the gallant young king has left a kingdom that could not appreciate him.] Elinor found the poetry pleasantest. There were some Elizabethan and Caroline poets she had never seen before-Jonson and Herrick, Suckling and Lovelace. Presently she found some MS. volumes of verse by the same hand that had written on drier matters, and in the fly-leaf of the first she took up, was inscribed "C.D. ætate C." "Could it mean," she thought, "that the writer was a hundred years old? Five times as old as I am. What a waste of years it seems!" She read the first poem in the volume: thus it ran :— "I have been young and now am old; Thus say I, as the sunset's gold Is poured the western skies along. Weak was I, for I loved to see A pretty girl with blushing cheek, I grew that minute twice as weak. Weak was I, since I longed for fame, Strong am I now: because the maid Strong am I, since I cannot care For fickle fancies of the throng, The crowding years are gifts of gold; He wrongs himself whom Time can wrong. I have been young and now am old: I then was weak-I now am strong." Little Elinor pondered over these verses, her white forefinger in the book, without passing on to see what next the centenarian poet might have to say. This child, as may have to be explained by-and-by, had been forced to lead a curious irregular isolated life, and, but for Mr. Carington, might have fallen into many misfortunes. But he had always aided her, treating her with an affectionate care, halfchivalrous, half-paternal, and Elinor, in return, believed him the |