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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031242583 
 
Hppletons' 
 
 Uown and Countri? 
 
 Xibrars 
 
 No. 183 
 
 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE 
 
When the game began between them for a jest. 
 He played king and she played queen to match the best ; 
 Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter. 
 These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after. 
 
 What the years mean ; how time dies and is not slain ; 
 How love laughs and cries and wanes again ; 
 These were things she came to know, and take their measure, 
 When the game was played out so for one man's pleasure. 
 
 SWINBURKE. 
 
A SELF-DENYING 
 ORDINANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 M. HAMILTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1895 
 
COfTKIQHT, 1895, 
 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes 
 How many soever they be. 
 And let the brown meadow-lark ff note, as he ranges, 
 Come over, come over to me. 
 
 " Poor bells ! I forgive you ; your good days are over. 
 And mine, they are yet to be ; 
 No listening, no longing shall aught, aught discover ; 
 You leave the story to me." 
 
 " It ■was very impressive," said Miss Chester, " to meet the 
 latest Bond Street manner in the middle of the bog road." 
 
 "If you are talking of Sir Nicholas Osborne, don't,^' said 
 Joanna. " There are two things I have no patience to talk 
 about : he's one, and the other is — Zenana meetings. " 
 
 "Which reminds me — why do I find you tramping the 
 streets this fine afternoon, instead of working for the little 
 blacks ? " said Miss Chester. She was a plump, self-satisfied 
 little person, not in her first youth. It gave her a consider- 
 able amount of satisfaction to associate on equal terms with a 
 very young girl like Joanna Conway. 
 
 " I just couldn't stand any more this afternoon," said Jo- 
 anna, with hot indignation. " It was quite trouble enough to 
 have to sit up at night, with locked doors, to bone and cut 
 down a whole petticoat bodice, just because my mother won't 
 let me dress like other girls " 
 
 " I honour you for having enough vanity to make you take 
 so much trouble," said Miss Chester, with conviction ; " espe- 
 cially as I know it takes you about half an hour to hem a 
 seam an inch long." 
 
 Joanna went on unheedingly : " And then, at the last 
 minute — just because I forgot to turn the key in the door 
 when I was dressing — to be caught, and have had all my 
 trouble for nothing. Oh, it is too bad ! And then to be ex- 
 pected to give in and smile, and go down to that — that " 
 
2 A SELF-DEITTING OBBINANCK 
 
 " Don't mind me, Joanna," said Miss Chester, with a sweet 
 smile. 
 
 "Well, that Zenana meeting," said Joanna. "Edith, I 
 don't believe an angel could have stood it— nor a worm," she 
 added, as an evident climax. ' ' Did you ever see such a bundle 
 as I look ? And, yet, I don't believe I have really a worse 
 figure than other people." 
 
 Certainly Joanna's figure was not, as yet, everything that 
 could be desired. 
 
 " Assert yourself, my dear, assert yourself," said Miss 
 Chester. 
 
 Joanna sighed. 
 
 " It is all very well for you to say that, when you've got an 
 obedient, modem father and mother. I'm glad I struck to- 
 day, though I know I shall never hear the last of it for weeks, 
 months, perhaps years. I feel that I am awfully like Miss 
 Jellyby, only that there is no dancing master for me to marry. 
 We are going to work for a mission to the Jews next week, 
 and, upon my word, I wish I was a Jew, for I haven't a decent 
 dress to put on." 
 
 "Positively, your wrongs make you eloquent,'' said Miss 
 Chester; "but let us no longer interrupt the traflSc of this 
 city by standing in the middle of the road. Come to 
 McCracken's with me ; I want to see if they have a railway 
 guide for this month. The trains are generally altered in 
 May, aren't they ? " 
 
 "Fancy asking ine about trains," said Joanna. "You 
 lucky girl! I suppose you are going off to that dance in 
 Belfast ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think I shall go with the Lawsons. We are to stay 
 at the Eoyal Avenue Hotel for the night, and I shall come 
 back next day. I wish you could go, Joanna." 
 
 " Oh I " was all Joanna said, drawing a long breath. 
 
 "But, after all, you are not so badly off. You have got 
 your bees, your carving, and a thousand other fads, — not to 
 speak of Zenana meetings, — while I should absolutely die of 
 boredom if I stayed long in this dull hole." 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna; " but it does drive me wild sometimes 
 to have to do exactly the same things every day of my life. I 
 am called every day at the same time in the morning, and I 
 dress myself in the same clothes, and see the same people; 
 and, for all I can see, I may go on in the same way forever — 
 till I grow old and gray, and am quite content, and have 
 ■Devev lived a single day. If only something would happen — ■ 
 even something bad ! " 
 
 " You have certainly got a fit of the blues to-day," said Miss 
 Chester, staring at her. "Here we are at McCracken's, and 
 I am rather glad, as you aren't amusing." 
 
A SELF-DEFYING ORBINANOE. 3 
 
 McCracken's was the grand shop in Ballylone. It stood at 
 the end of the principal street,— for there were two, — and 
 looked down upon its rivals from a height of superiority. 
 Besides, the McCrackens were church people, and the only 
 other shops with any pretension to size belonged to Presby- 
 terians and Roman Catholics. 
 
 McCracken's could supply the wants of anyone who was not 
 unduly particular. There were two large windows which 
 displayed the glories of the establishment, being filled with 
 china, sweet stuff, millinery, articles of apparel, and many 
 other things. Inside were shelves, stored with a less promi- 
 nent assortment of goods, and on the floor a pile of carpeting 
 and another of print stuff. A row of mugs, with ' ' A Present 
 from Ballylone " inscribed upon them, and a barrel of herrings 
 were the background of the picture. But there was plenty 
 of room in the shop, and it is impossible to say why Joanna 
 always managed to rub her dress against the herring barrel. 
 
 Mrs. McCracken had been parlour maid to the Conways ten 
 or eleven years before, and she had adored Joanna ever since. 
 She was a stout, motherly person, with a large family of all 
 ages. She very oftea sat in the shop "for company," but she 
 had not much to do with it. 
 
 "Good-evening, Miss Joanna- good-evening. Miss Chester," 
 she said. " I didn't expect to see you the day. Miss Joanna; 
 I thought you'd have been at the sewing meeting. You'll 
 come to the room and lain down, and have a cup oftea ? You 
 haven't been to see me these three days." 
 
 "J'ZZ have some tea, at any rate," said Miss Chester, who 
 had not been asked. " Have you a time-table for this month, 
 Mrs. McCracken ? " 
 
 " I am sorry we haven't. Miss Chester; but our Eoddy will 
 be going past the station with the cart to-morrow, and I'll tell 
 him to get one, if that will do. You are not going to leave us 
 again so soon, Miss Chester, are you ? " 
 
 Across her own threshold Mrs. McCracken was hospitable 
 even to Miss Chester, of whom she highly disappi'oved. If 
 Joanna only had been there, she might have been allowed to 
 have tea in the kitchen, which she liked very much better, 
 but as it was they were conducted in state to " the room." 
 This was a small apartment with lace-curtained windows, 
 which looked on the street and were apparently never opened ; 
 a set of horse-hair chairs, adorned with antimacassars and 
 ranged at regular intervals round the walls, and a table, 
 adorned with three crochet mats, supporting respectively 
 a Bible, a vase of artificial flowers, and a photograph book. 
 
 As the family bedrooms all opened off "the room "Mrs. 
 McCracken had to go round and hastily shut the doors before 
 she was ready for conversation. 
 
4 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "I hear you are going to bave the new clergyman as a 
 lodger till the Rectory is ready, Mi-s. McCracken? " said Miss 
 Chester suavely, and Joanna smiled to herself as the motive 
 for their visit dawned upon her. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Mrs. McCracken, much gratified, "the 
 young gentleman is to have the upstairs rooms — a bedroom 
 and a parlour ; perhaps you would like to see them when you 
 have finished your tea? " 
 
 " I should, immensely,'' said Miss Chester graciously ; "he 
 is sure to be comfortable with you, Mrs. McCracken." 
 
 Joanna escaped to the kitchen with the baby as an excuse, 
 and she did not come back till tea was ready, but Miss Chester 
 had not the same chance of getting a breath of fresh air. 
 
 "Will you want Roddy up to wait on Friday, Miss 
 Joanna? " said Mrs. McCracken, as she began to pour out the tea. 
 
 "I don't know, I am sure," said Joanna. "Don't you think 
 it is horribly rude, Edith? Mother asked Sir Nicholas Osborne 
 to dinner next Friday, more than a fortnight ago, and he has 
 never taken the trouble to answer." 
 
 "Sir Nicholas Osborne — oh, do you know him? '' said Miss 
 Chester, with much interest. 
 
 "I don't know him, and I don't want to know him, if that 
 is the way he behaves, " said Joanna. 
 
 "You must excuse my saying it, my dear girl, but you 
 know he would be bored to death. What delicious bread, 
 Mrs. McCracken ; do you make it youreelf ? " 
 
 "Of course he would be bored," Joanna agreed, " but don't 
 you think he might take the trouble to decline? " 
 
 "Well, how could he say that he had a previous engage- 
 ment in Ballylone? I must stand up for him, Joanna, for I 
 met him in the middle of the bog road the other day, and he 
 is very good-looking. He stared at me so that I did not know 
 what to do, and he spoke to a man who was breaking stones a 
 minute later ; I am sure he asked him who I was." 
 
 Joanna was not much impressed by this recital ; she had 
 been so often told that men were staring at Miss Chester when 
 she herself could not see it. 
 
 " Sir Nicholas comes in here every morning about eleven, to 
 get the paper," said Mrs. McCracken. "I would be glad to 
 send it up, but I think he likes the walk. He is a nice young 
 gentleman, and he must find it very lonely." 
 
 " There, Joanna, there's mystery and excitement quite 
 ready for you," said Miss Chester. "Find out what on earth 
 Sir Nicholas is doing here, and why he left the Guards." 
 
 "Thank you; that is much more in your line. No more 
 tea, thank you, Mrs. McCracken." • 
 
 " He has got considerably more swagger than he will find a 
 use for in Ballylone," said Miss Chester, laughing. 
 
A 8ELF-DBNYINQ ORDmANCE. 5 
 
 "Well," said Joanna, "if he thinks himself too good for 
 us, I am sure I don't care." 
 
 "I hope he will return papa's call," said Miss Chester. 
 
 And then, tea being over, they were taken upstairs, where 
 Mrs. McCracken proudly displayed to them the future rooms 
 of the Rev. Mr. Jellett. 
 
 "Poor young man! "said Miss Chester, when they were 
 once more in the street. " I do hope he will succeed in getting 
 a window open, and that he will be careful of those stairs." 
 
 "His life won't be exactly abed of roses," said Joanna; "at 
 least I am afraid not. He is exactly the kind of young man 
 who will want to agree with everybody." 
 
 " Then, unless he is a consummate hypocrite, he shouldn't 
 have come here," said Miss Chester trenchantly. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " La jeiinesae en riant m'appoita see mensoiiges. 
 Son avenir de gloire, et d'amour, et d'orgueil." 
 
 The Conways lived at Cliff House, which was ten minutes' 
 walk from the village, a walk going down hill all the way, 
 and which Joanna still liked to take at a racing pace. 
 
 The house was not large and was extremely ugly ; there 
 was a fair garden, and in his spare moments Mr. Conway 
 farmed the land round, which was consequently not exactly 
 picturesque. The avenue ran between a ploughed field and 
 a hay-fleld, and the farm buildings came inconveniently near 
 the front of the house. 
 
 Mr. Conway was a solicitor, with a business so old and well 
 established that it had gained him admission to the scattered 
 county houses within reach, till he had fallen in love with 
 the pretty face of a neighbouring doctor's daughter. Mrs. 
 Conway could not consort with the county; she supported 
 her claim to equality with a vehemence which showed her 
 doubts on the subject, she looked out for slights with a perse- 
 verance which could not fail to be rewarded, and she lived 
 on an altitude of virtue to which her neighbors might not 
 have objected, had she not insisted on forcing them up too. 
 
 Consequently she quarrelled in turn with all the families 
 about, and as neither she nor her husband was particularly 
 interesting or desirable in any way, nobody made much, 
 effort to renew their acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Conway was by no means a rich man, contriving to 
 expend quite a remSrkable amount of money on his farm 
 without any return. He bought new-fangled ploughs and 
 reaping machines, which his men entirely refused to use; he 
 
6 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 invested in a churn for saving labour, whereupon the dairy- 
 maid gave instant warning, and in an extremely intricate 
 and hideous stove for the hall, which was to save the forty 
 pounds it had cost in the course of a couple of years, but, 
 instead, smoked the family out of the house till it was 
 removed. 
 
 With all these failures only Joanna sympathised, and she 
 did not even grumble when persuaded to invest in an infallible 
 bee-hive, which turned out an utter failure. It gave her an 
 idea, she said, and she set to work and put together a hive on 
 somewhat the same lines which answered admirably. She 
 would have tried to make something out of the stove, if she 
 had been allowed. 
 
 But, except in these matters, it was Mrs. Conway who ruled 
 the house. There had been a time when Mr. Conway had 
 made a struggle not to yield, but he was a man who liked to 
 be comfortable and hated nagging, and he gave way very 
 soon, saw as little of his wife as possible, and cherished for her 
 a dislike which made her presence a constant irritation to him. 
 
 They had two daughters, Joanna and a sister who was 
 eight years older. There had been a son, who was drowned 
 as a boy, for whom Mrs. Conway grieved always, and for 
 whom she would have had everybody else grieve always too. 
 Joanna, at eight years old, had cried for him very heartily, 
 and missed him very much, but she had been ready to laugh 
 again very soon. She had only a half resentful memory of 
 her brother Edwin now, connected with gloom, reproof, 
 punishment, and an ideal of virtue held before her which 
 did not at all agree with her recollection of him. 
 
 In the middle of this gloom Elizabeth Conway grew up to 
 be a very pretty girl. There was a garrison then about eight 
 miles off, and the country generally was much gayer. But 
 Mrs. Conway did not approve of dancing and frivolous amuse- 
 ment, she looked upon officers as dangerous and unredeemable 
 libertines, and Elizabeth stayed at home and went to prayer- 
 meetings and sewing classes. 
 
 Consequently people began to see her on the roads and in the 
 fields with a certain mad-cap young lieutenant called Morris. 
 
 Elizabeth was absolutely ignorant ; she had never even read 
 a novel, except an occasional cheap story which she had bor- 
 rowed under the rose from the servants, and she found living 
 a novel of her own much more exciting. She had neither 
 interests nor pursuits, and she was as silly as she was pretty ; 
 she began to give young Morris rendezvous at all hours, to the 
 great scandal of the neighbourhood. Evei-vbody knew except 
 Mr. and Mrs. Conway, eveiybody talked about it, and nobody 
 liked to tell the mother who treated her daughter so hardly. 
 
 One day everything was found out ; the neighbourhood 
 
A SELF-DENYING OEBINANOE. 1 
 
 never knew how, nor exactly how much there was to find out. 
 There was a marriage, and Elizabeth left Ballylone without a 
 regret. She made the most of her freedom ; she went every- 
 where, enjoyed everything, was admired, lost her head, and 
 got desperately into debt. 
 
 A few years later she brought an undefended divorce case 
 against her husband, and gained it with costs which neither 
 of them had any money to pay. 
 
 Mr. Morris got his company and went to India, and Eliza- 
 beth and her little girl came back to Ballylone. 
 
 Over this, for the first time for years, Mr. Conway asserted 
 himself. 
 
 " We have no right to throw a stain upon Elizabeth by our 
 refusal to receive her," he said, "and besides, if we don't, as 
 far as I can see, she must go to the workhouse. I say she shall 
 come here." 
 
 She had come, but during the five years that had followed 
 Mrs. Conway had never once spoken to her daughter. She 
 sat opposite her at meals three times a day, they spent even- 
 ing after evening in the same room, and in a small house they 
 naturally met at every turn, but the silence had never been 
 broken. 
 
 She talked at her often enough, and she prayed for her, as 
 she frequently informed her through Joanna, but then she 
 always promised to pray for any member of her family with 
 whom she felt for the time particularly displeased. 
 
 She undertook the training of Elizabeth's little Polly, and 
 Elizabeth, who lived in abject terror of her mother, did not 
 dare to interfere. She sat a good deal in her own room, and 
 began to imagine herself an invalid. 
 
 Joanna was very different. Five years ag6, when Mr. Con- 
 way had roused himself to have Elizabeth admitted to her 
 home, he had also awakened to the fact of Joanna's existence, 
 and this had resulted in her going to school near Dublin for a 
 couple of years. Joanna was naturally inclined to be happy, 
 and she had enjoyed herself very much, but, being behind 
 other girls of her age when she went to school, she was still 
 behind them when she left. 
 
 However, she had carved the side of her desk really wonder- 
 fully well with her pocket knife, and had spent all her spare 
 moments in various exceedingly neat bits of carpentering ; 
 Joanna could do almost anything with her hands. 
 
 She was a tall, slight girl, rather angular and awkward ; she 
 had a pair of very earnest brown eyes, and soft wavy hair, 
 but she was not pretty ; a fact of which she was perfectly con- 
 scious, and which troubled her a little. 
 
 When she left school and returned to her life at Ballylone 
 it was with a definite object before her, which kept her from 
 
8 A SELF-DENYING OBBINANCE. 
 
 feeling any dullness for some time. What she purposed for 
 herself was to make some money, enough to support her in 
 London, or even in Dublin, where she would take carving 
 lessons, and in time be able to make her own living. Then 
 possibly she might marry well, but she did not think this so 
 likely, though she had quite made up her mind that if any 
 pai'ticularly desirable individual were to foi^et the fact of her 
 plainness she would not say him nay. Joanna's ideas on 
 the marriage state were grandly vague and pronouncedly 
 mercenary. 
 
 The first step was evidently to make some money, and this 
 she set about with much earnestness. She started bees, and 
 sold swarms and honey ; she set on foot a small hen yard of 
 her own, and as she grew richer, she began to go in for 
 various select breeds ; she carried on a traflSc in flowers 
 through the Exchange and Mart, and finally she bought a 
 field from her father on the most commercial principles, and 
 started herself as a farmer. 
 
 With all these irons in the fii-e she had not much time for 
 boredom, till suddenly, at the beginning of the third year, she 
 awakened to the fact that she had only made twelve pounds 
 so far, that her field had been a source of loss rather than gain, 
 and that, at this rate, she would be an old woman before she 
 could realise her dreams. 
 
 It was then that she began to be discontented, to feel the 
 depressing atmosphere of her home, and to rebel against her 
 mother's imperious will. Joanna was less in fear of Mrs. Con- 
 way than anyone else in the house, and for that reason, per- 
 haps, her mother bore more from her. 
 
 But the household was not a cheerful one, neither were 
 the surroundings at Ballylone very enlivening. Except 
 at Cliff House there was nobody young near Ballylone but 
 Miss Chester, and for her Joanna had a friendly feeling not 
 unmixed with contempt. Then she was very seldom at home, 
 and as Ballylone contained nothing in the shape of a young 
 man, she was always desperately bored when she was there. 
 Besides, though she did her best to forget it, Edith Chester 
 was a contemporary, not of Joanna, but of Elizabeth, and 
 Joanna was secretly of opinion that it was quite time she 
 should settle down in life, which, according to her own 
 account, she had had innumerable opportunities of doing. 
 
 Ballylone was a very small village, and had made itself the 
 centre for a select assortment of old ladies, who were very 
 well content with life, and found quite sufiicient excitement 
 in prayer-meetings, visiting each other, and frequent disagree- 
 ments. It was the fear of Joanna's life that she should one day 
 become one of the band, but as yet there certainly seemed no 
 cause to anticipate her settling down too contentedly to her lot. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Those inferior duties of life which the French call Us petites morales, 
 or the smaller morals, are with us considered by the name of good 
 manners." 
 
 "Good Heavens, John, what on earth am I to do ? Sir 
 Nicholas Osborne has accepted." 
 
 Mr. Conway, having been disturbed in the process of sitting 
 over the fire and thinking out his latest hobby in farm 
 improvements when he was supposed to be answering his 
 clients' letters, was proportionably disposed to be cross. His 
 wife very seldom penetrated to his office in Ballylone, and as 
 it was a cold morning he had lighted a fire, which he knew 
 she would look upon as a culpable extravagance. All fires in 
 the daytime went out on the 1st of May at Cliff House. 
 
 "Sir Nicholas has accepted?" he said, with a calmness 
 which he knew to be the most successful way of irritating his 
 wife, " why, isn't that the very thing you wanted ? " 
 
 " The very thing I wanted ! How can you be so stupid — and 
 what you want with a fire to-day I cannot imagine. I explained 
 the whole thing to you yesterday, and you agreed that we had 
 better ask Mr. Moreland, and now he's accepted too. When a 
 young man has had nearly three weeks' invitation to a dinner 
 party, and doesn't answer till the day before, you naturally 
 don't expect him to accept." 
 
 Mr. Conway got up, and with apparent carelessness got 
 between his wife and the fire. 
 
 " If you will remember, Marion," he said, " I told you from 
 the beginning that it was absurd to ask a young fellow like 
 that to a country dinner-party. You have given him an 
 opportunity to show how little he troubles himself to be civil, 
 and you don't imagine he wants to come ? " 
 
 " I don't see any reason why he should not want to come," 
 said Mrs. Conway indignantly, "and he does, very much. He 
 says : ' I shall be very glad to accept your hind invitation for 
 Friday the 9th, and I am ashamed of myself for not having 
 written sooner.' There!" 
 
 "The italics are your own, I suppose ?" inquired her 
 husband. 
 
 "And as for not asking him when we are giving a dinner- 
 party, I don't see how I could have avoided it, considering you 
 have so much to say to him in a business way. Really, John, 
 you cannot want a hot fire on a day like this, and it is a sin to 
 waste money when there are so many around us who need it. 
 If you will move to one side and give me the tongs, I will take 
 off some of the turf." 
 
10 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Mr. Conway yielded, but not with a good grace. 
 
 "Don't try and persuade me, Marion, that you gave this 
 thing for any other reason than tiiat you wanted to ask Sir 
 Nicholas Osborne. Well, you've asked him, and it seems 
 he's coming; so having destroyed the fire and made me 
 thoroughly uncomfortable, can't you leave me in peace ? " 
 
 "It is not in the least cold," said Mrs. Conway, who had 
 walked very rapidly down from Cliff House and had all her 
 outdoor things on, "and you won't see my difficulty; as both 
 Dr. Moreland and Sir Nicholas Osborne are coming, there will 
 be a man too many. What is to be done ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said Mr. Conway calmly. 
 
 " Don't sit there, looking as if you didn't care, John. You 
 are the most selfish man I ever met. Try and think of other 
 people for once, and give me some advice." 
 
 " Leave it to Providence. Perhaps the Lord will provide," 
 said Mr. Conway. The sight of his scattered fire made him 
 vicious, but Mrs. Conway was too full of her subject to take 
 any notice of his remark, other than a shocked look and an 
 eloquent pause. 
 
 " You see I can't ask anyone on such a short invitation, can 
 I ? '' she said. 
 
 " No, of course not," her husband assented. 
 
 " How absurd you are ! I am sure that horrid Miss Chester 
 will be only too delighted to come, if I ask her.'' 
 
 " Then ask her by all means," said Mr. Conway promptly ; 
 he had rather a weakness for Miss Chester, who amused him. 
 
 " But then if I ask her," Mrs. Conway pursued in a troubled 
 tone, "I must add to the table again, and if I do that, I don't 
 see how the servants are to get round by the window." 
 
 Mr. Conway shook his head. " So that won't do," he said. 
 " Supposing you tell Sir Nicholas that you have filled up his 
 place ? I assure you he won't mind." 
 
 "You know I can't do that," said Mrs. Conway, with much 
 irritation, " It is all very well for you, who have nothing to 
 worry you. Then I told Roddy I should not want him to 
 come up and wait, and now he is sure not to be able to come. 
 And that old yellow silk of Joanna's is so faded, and there is 
 no time to get another.'' 
 
 " Do you think we could possibly manage to get the draw- 
 ing-room chairs re-covered in time, or new curtains for the 
 dining-room ? " suggested Mr. Conway, with fine sarcasm. 
 "If I were you, my good Marion, I would not be in too 
 great haste to throw myself at this young man's head. It 
 seems to me that the county are not in any burning hurry to 
 take him up, and it is certainly rather odd that a young man 
 should leave the Guards and come to bury himself in a place 
 like this." 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 11 
 
 "How can you be so absurd, John?" said Mrs. Conway 
 sharply. ' ' He has come to look after his property, of course. " 
 
 "Just tell me, did he, or his father or grandfather before 
 him, ever come to this part of the world before ? I should say 
 his ' property ' here brings him in almost sixteen pounds 
 a year, and if this is an item in his income sufficiently impor- 
 tant to warrant looking after for six months, I don't wonder 
 he found the Guards rather expensive." 
 
 " It is most unchristian to take away the poor young man's 
 character in this way. I am sure, if you have anything really 
 against him, I am the very last person who would have any- 
 thing to say to him," said Mrs. Conway. 
 
 "I am quite sure of that," agreed her husband, with 
 emphasis, " but I have nothing to say, except that, if you stay 
 here much longer, I shall be ready to take away the character 
 of my whole acquaintance. I assure you I will make full 
 inquiries when he comes to me for Joanna's hand, and perhaps 
 that will be soon enough." 
 
 "If you are worldly yourself, John," said Mrs. Conway 
 severely, "you need not imagine everyone is like you. For 
 me, I know my sole wish is to see my child married to a good, 
 Christian young man. Try and control your irritable temper, 
 John ; it is my constant prayer for you. Think that I have 
 been worrying over this since breakfast, and if I try to con- 
 sult you for five minutes you get cross. It's all very well, but 
 what am I to do, if I add to the table and then find the table- 
 cloth " 
 
 " D the tablecloth and Sir Nicholas Osborne too," said 
 
 her husband very heartily. 
 
 And this succeeded in driving Mrs. Conway in shocked 
 silence from the office, while there was yet time to recall the 
 fire to existence. 
 
 Joanna in her own way was not a little interested too, when 
 she heard the news later on. A dinner-party of ancient indi- 
 viduals whom she had known all her life, and most of whom 
 she would probably see in the course of the day as well, did 
 not appeal to her, but the introduction of an unknown man 
 who was young and had been in the Guards was quite another 
 matter. 
 
 She rushed up to her sister's room and dashed in with 
 a vehemence which rather disturbed the occupant. 
 
 " Elizabeth, Elizabeth ! Sir Nicholas Osborne is coming ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 " My dear child, I do wish you would not always shout at 
 the top of your voice, and tramp about like a six-foot grena- 
 dier," said Mrs. Morris reprovingly. 
 
 Joanna made an impatient movement. 
 
 "Don't you care in the least to see anybody new ? " she said. 
 
12 A SELF-DBNTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Idon't care for anybody new to come to dinner here," said 
 Elizabeth. ' ' Don 't you know that the dinner will be execrable 
 and worse served ; that Annie will be sure to make some mis- 
 take, and will go into fits of laughter if the conversation hap- 
 pens to amuse her, and that Eoddy will smell of stables ? " 
 
 Joanna's face fell. 
 
 " I could speak to Annie and tell her she must not laugh," 
 slie suggested, hesitating. 
 
 " Do you want her to choke, or rush out of the room ? " 
 said Elizabeth. "Joanna, I wish you would go away ; my 
 head is aching, and I hardly slept last night ; I never suffered 
 such agony." 
 
 " Well, do, like a dear, tell me what I am to wear ? " said 
 Joanna. 
 
 "That is a difficult question to decide, I own, with a large 
 wardrobe like yours. I wasn't aware you had a choice." 
 
 "But that old yellow thing doesn't suit me a bit, and it has 
 a split at one side," said Joanna plaintively. 
 
 "Mend the split, then. You don't expect me to evolve a 
 dress, or the money to pay for it, before to-morrow evening ? " 
 
 " You think it doesn't matter what I wear, because I am not 
 pretty, "said Joanna ; " and yet you wouldn't believe how well 
 I looked one day when I tried on a new dress of Edith Ches- 
 ter's. Elizabeth, you can't think liow much I should like to 
 be really well dressed, and really have a good time for once." 
 
 "You arenotasbadly off aslam," said Mrs. Morris sharply. 
 
 " Why, you have had your good time — a better time than I 
 shall ever have, I dare say, and you have been married, and 
 have Polly to think about," said Joanna, which was not 
 exactly the most politic speech she could have made to her 
 sister. " Elizabeth, dear, won't you come down to the village, 
 and help me to choose something fresh to retrim the body? 
 I have ten shillings bee-money in my pocket, and can spare a 
 little." 
 
 "How considerate you are, Joanna, seeing that I have a 
 headache, and that I want to finish this book; take Polly,'' 
 said Mrs. Morris. 
 
 "Yes, but Polly can't help me to choose, and you have such 
 good taste, and I have none. Never mind ; whatever I do, I 
 know I shall lookaplain little home-made dowd," and Joanna 
 sauntered dolefully out of her sister's room, and made her way 
 to her own, to have another survey of the unfortunate yellow 
 silk. 
 
 But all the same, she could not help feeling very cheerful ; 
 surely something was going to happen at last. She was 
 vaguely excited all that day and the next, without exactly 
 knowing why; and she was aware that she looked very dif- 
 ferent from her everyday appearance when she viewed her- 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 13 
 
 self in the glass the next evening, and that somehow the 
 yellow silk suited her better than usual, 
 
 Poor Joanna, and poor Mrs. Conway! At the last moment 
 came a note from Sir Nicholas, saying that he regretted feel- 
 ing too unwell to Ijeep his engagement. 
 
 It was indeed too late to do anything then ; Joanna's burn- 
 ing indication at the rudeness ovei-powered her disappoint- 
 ment, while Mrs. Conway solaced herself by detailing tlie facts 
 of the case to all her guests. 
 
 As for Mr. Conway, he smiled serenely and said to his 
 wife: " You see you had better have done as I said. Provi- 
 dence had planned the whole matter out, and was apparently 
 not aware you had made other arrangements." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " I waa glad that day ; 
 The June was in me, with its multitudes 
 Of nightingales all singing in the dark 
 And rosebuds reddening wliere the calyx split. 
 I felt so young, so strong, so snre of God, 
 So glad, I could not choose be very wise." 
 
 " Well," said Joanna, " I said those bees would swarm, if 
 I went to church." 
 
 It was Sunday, and Joanna's temper was never at its best 
 on Sundays. 
 
 The Conways had dinner in the middle of the day, and 
 she had committed the dire offence of coming in late, and 
 on being requested to shut the door had done so with tlie 
 suggestion of a bang, and subsided into her chair with cross 
 abruptness. 
 
 Tlie dining-room at Cliff Hoiise was dark and rather 
 gloomy, and the occupants certainly did not look particularly 
 enlivening. 
 
 Mrs. Conway sat at the head of the tablewith a severe 
 solemnity of countenance which in its perfection was gener- 
 ally reserved for Sundays; Mr. Conway was as usual eating 
 his dinner as quickly as possible, preparatory to an abrupt and 
 unceremonious departure; Elizabeth was, also as usual, melan- 
 choly and nervous, and little Polly, a plain, long-legged child 
 of nine, had traces of tears on her cheeks. 
 
 "I think you might put aside thoughts of your bees, at 
 least for Sunday," said Mrs. Conway severely. "Will you have 
 some mutton? " 
 
 "So I would," said Joanna, "only unfortunately the bees 
 don't keep Sunday." 
 
 "Joanna!" said Mrs. Conway, in a voice which made 
 3 
 
14 A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 Joanna jump, "I will not Lave you speak in such a way in. 
 my presence." 
 
 Whereon silence ensued during^ the rest of dinner, 
 
 "Ask your sister if she will have any more pudding, 
 Joanna," said Mrs. Conway; ''because, if not, I will go and 
 get my books together for Sunday-school." 
 
 On which Joanna said: "Will you have any more pud- 
 ding, Elizabeth?" and Elizabeth said: " No, thank you, 
 Joanna," a little ceremony which sometimes even now struck 
 Joanna or her father as irresistibly comic, painful though it 
 was to them all. 
 
 Joanna went to the hall-door and looked out ; it was a 
 glorious day, and they had all -got quite hot walking up from 
 church ; she had not the smallest intention of spending the 
 afternoon indoors learning her Gospel and Collect as she was 
 supposed to do, and leaving her bees to their fate. 
 
 " Aunt Joanna," said a little voice at her side, " I do wish 
 grandmamma would let me stay with you. I have to go dowu 
 to the school and learn my Gospel while she teaches the big , 
 girls, but I can't learn while they are talking." 
 
 " Put your fingers in. your ears," suggested Joanna. 
 
 "I can't learn it. It is such adiflBcult Gospel," said Polly 
 hopelessly. " There is a little devil singing in my head that 
 makes me forget every sentence as soon as I have learned the 
 next one." 
 
 "Polly!" said Joanna, "you must be a good girl — you 
 mus'n't talk like that." 
 
 " It is the little devil in me that makes me naughty," said 
 Polly complacently, " but I will be quite good if I stay with 
 you." 
 
 Joanna said nothing; she looked at the child for a moment, 
 and then she walked across the hall to the drawing-room, 
 where Elizabeth was lying on a sofa, with a surreptitious 
 novel tucked under her pillow, awaiting her mother's 
 departure. 
 
 "Elizabeth," she said, " that child will be ill if you don't 
 interfere. Siie learned a hymn before breakfast, and she has 
 been in Sunday-school and church ever since." ■ 
 
 "Well, what can I do?" said Elizabeth crossly. " If you 
 had been awake half the night with an excruciating pain in 
 your side, you wouldn't bounce into a room like that." 
 
 " What could you do? Tell mother you won't let her go to 
 school this afternoon, of course," said Joanna. 
 
 "You know very well I can't do anything of the kind," 
 said Elizabeth, in an injured tone, " and if you had any con- 
 sideration you would know that the very thought of it upsets 
 me. Polly is as strong as a horse, and if you think it neces- 
 sary to interfere, why don't you do it yourself?" 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 15 
 
 " If I had a child, I should," said Joanna. 
 
 " I wish you would get me another pillow, instead of talk- 
 ing in that improper way," said Elizabeth f i-etfully. "I shall 
 have to send for the doctor if this pain goes on; it is most 
 extraordinary the way it seems to catch my breath." 
 
 Joanna walked out of the room and went to get her hat 
 very thoughtfully. There was nothing to be done for Polly. 
 She watched her trotting down the avenue after Mrs. Conway, 
 a depressed little figure with a pile of books in her arms ; and 
 then she set out in the opposite direction herself. 
 
 She expected that her swarm had done what another had 
 done once before, gone off to a garden near, or made straight 
 for the bogs and heather. The garden belonged to Sir Nicholas 
 Osborne, and was indeed the soui-ce of his sixteen pounds a 
 year, for the bare little house and bit of plantation had never 
 been let, but Sir Nicholas Osborne had ceased to be of much 
 interest to Joanna. He had evidently no intention of culti- 
 vating his neighbours, and as he was never visible, she had 
 ceased to think about him. 
 
 Whether he was at home, or whether he was not, did not 
 exercise her mind at all just then ; she knew there were some 
 apple-trees in his garden which possessed a fascination for 
 the bee-mind, and he could not possibly object to the removal 
 of her own swarm. 
 
 So Joanna ran across the meadow and climbed the ditch 
 which separated the Conways' from Sir Nicholas' little 
 demesne, and which English people would have called a 
 bank, with her head full of her bees and all they were to do 
 for her. 
 
 Her dreams had reached a point when she had become a 
 very important personage, with her carvings largely admired 
 and a fortune coming in from an improvement in bee-hives 
 of which she was at present very full, when she almost can- 
 noned against a man coming round the corner of the garden 
 wall, and started violently with a sudden recollection of Sir 
 Nicholas. 
 
 But it was only the old gardener Kelly, whom Joanna 
 knew very well. 
 
 " I was just coming over to see if you had missed a swarm, 
 Miss Joanna," he said, " there's a fine one on the big apple- 
 tree at this present moment.'' 
 
 "Oh, Kelly, I am glad!" said Joanna. "I was awfully 
 afraid they would have gone off to the bog and be lost. Could 
 we get them now ? I will run back for Richard O'Brien and 
 a soap." 
 
 " I am thinking the best thing we could do would be to cut 
 the branch," said Kelly; "it's not to be called a good bearing 
 tree, and " 
 
16 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "Well, will you go and ask Sir Nicholas if I can ?" said 
 Joanna eagerly. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Osborne was having a late lunch when old 
 Kelly sent in his request, and said "Certainly," without pay- 
 ing much attention to it. 
 
 He was a tall, fair young man, rather good-looking, and 
 tolerably well aware of it. He had dark blue eyes, which 
 were inclined to err on the side of expressing too much, a big 
 nose, and an excellent moustache. He was not inclined to 
 undervalue himself in any way, and made no effort to conceal 
 this fact. 
 
 But for the last six months the world had been going very, 
 very far wrong with Sir Nicholas; so far wrong, in fact, that 
 never as long as he lived could it go quite right again, and he 
 was very unhappy. He resented the fact, but in his endless 
 days alone at Ballylone he had no means of forgetting it. 
 
 Lunch was a new custom of his, adopted solely with a view 
 to pass the day, but as he had done nothing since breakfast 
 at eleven he naturally was not very hungry. 
 
 He lay back in his chair, yawned, and began to fill his pipe. 
 He had smoked all morning, and he did not feel any great 
 desire to smoke again. He thought better of it, and poured 
 himself out another glass of wine. 
 
 A bee came hastily in through the open window in a high 
 state of excitement and indignation, and it occurred to Sir 
 Nicholas that he might as well go and see how they were 
 getting on in the garden. 
 
 He got up, and passing a looking-glass on the way to the 
 door, he spent five minutes or so in an interested effort to 
 make both ends of his moustache exactly alike; then he gave 
 himself an admiring glance, and strolled out of doors, catch- 
 ing up a straw hat as he passed through the hall. 
 
 In the garden all was excitement; it seemed full of people 
 and bees, with a white-sheeted erection under an apple- 
 tree for a centre. In the foreground were Joanna and old 
 Eelly in hot dispute. He was a little, bent old man. with 
 shaking legs, a red face, and an unconquerable belief in his 
 own opinion. 
 
 "They be to be going up, Miss Joanna," he said firmly, 
 "there are not near as many left on the branch." 
 
 " I am quite sure they are not going up," said Joanna. 
 
 "They'd have been up a good while sooner if you had let 
 them beat the kettles to scar' them," said old Kelly resignedly, 
 " but they are going as easy as you please now." 
 
 "I am tired of telling you that bees have no ears," said 
 Joanna impatiently, " and I don't believe there's a solitary 
 one in that hive." 
 
 " Take my word for it, Miss Joanna, there's more than the 
 
A SELF-BENTINQ OBDINANGK 17 
 
 half of them there," said Kelly, " Many's the time I have 
 seen a swarm of bees into a soap, and I wili maybe know a 
 little about it. But since I was a wee fellow I have never 
 seen it done without beating the kettles.'' 
 
 "Would you look if the branch was getting clear, Miss 
 Joanna ? " said the coachman's wife, who was looking on 
 with a baby in her arms. They were all inclined to agree 
 with Kelly, and look with disapproval on Joanna's ideas,. 
 
 " Can 1 he of any use ? " said Sir Nicholas, who had strolled 
 up, attracted by the small crowd, for he was naturally a very 
 sociable individual. 
 
 But Joanna's thoughts were completely centred in her bees. 
 
 "No, thank you," she said abstractedly. "Kelly, I am per- 
 fectly certain those bees are going off." 
 
 ' ' My belief is that you're mistaken, Miss Joanna ; they are 
 going up as nicely as you could wish." 
 
 "They are going off," said Joanna. "Richard, you will 
 hare to follow them." 
 
 Old Kelly contented himself with a superior smile. 
 
 "He knows a deal about bees, Miss Joanna," said another 
 bystander. 
 
 " Don't you know that all the noise in the world wouldn't 
 make any difference to bees ? " said Joanna in exasperation, 
 turning to Sir Nicholas. She was not thinking about him at 
 all, and addressed him merely in hope of an ally. 
 
 " Certainly," agreed Sir Nicholas, who knew absolutely 
 nothing about it. Nevertheless his opinion made a decided 
 impression on the bystanders. 
 
 "There!" cried Joanna, "they're off!" 
 
 And she was perfectly right. Slowly the compact little 
 brown cloud emerged and began to rise into the air, scattering 
 the group in all directions. 
 
 "They will be lost! " said Joanna distractedly. " Richard, 
 you must follow them, and see where they settle." 
 
 " I be to cross the river then ?" said Richard O'Brien, a tall, 
 red-headed youth. 
 
 "Of course," said Joanna. "You can wade after all this 
 dry weather; and for goodness' sake don't forget what hedge 
 you find them in, as you did last summer. Stop, I will go 
 round by the bridge, and meet you. Now go — go ! " 
 
 " It is a mile or more by the bridge, isn't it. Miss Conway ? " 
 said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " I don't mind about that," said Joanna, in a perturbed tone, 
 "but I don't see how I am to get the hive round on Sunday. 
 Oh, what shall I do!" 
 
 " Let me drive you round! " said Sir Nicholas, catching the 
 excitement. " Carroll, get the dog-cart, quick." 
 
 ' ' Oh, " said Joanna, ' ' thanks ! it wouldn't matter so much, 
 
18 A SELF-DENTIXG OBDINANCE. 
 
 onlv I can't trust to Richard a bit, and I must say I should like 
 them settled before night. It is a very good swarm, isn t it ? 
 
 "Perhaps, Miss Joanna," said old Kelly, "you will mmd 
 me next time. If you had left it to me this wouldn't have 
 happened." 
 
 Whereupon Joanna and Sir Nicholas burst out laughing. 
 
 But Joanna was very impatient before the horse was ready. 
 She fidgeted, and ungratefully said she could have walked 
 sooner, while Carroll, who was annoyed at such hasty com- 
 mands, and not interested in the bees, certainly in no way 
 hurried himself. 
 
 But when they were once off it was a most exciting chase; 
 Sir Nicholas got almost as interested as Joanna, and by the 
 time they had found Richard, and then the bees, which he 
 had contrived to lose, and had settled him under a hedge to 
 watch them, it was nearly six o'clock. 
 
 Then suddenly Joanna became very silent. The enormity 
 of her afternoon's proceedings began to dawn upon her for the 
 first time ; she had been driving about the roads on Sunday with 
 a young man, and she had never driven on Sunday before iu 
 her life; she had forgotten this young man's rudeness about 
 dinner, had treated him in a very friendly, not to say un- 
 ceremonious fashion, and had indeed thought no more of 
 him than if he had been old Kelly or Richard O'Brien. 
 
 She got into the dog-cart again, because she could think of 
 no particular reason for refusing, but she said nothing for 
 some time. 
 
 She stole an occasional glance at her companion; he was 
 very different from any of the few young men she had come 
 across at Ballylone ; he wore a vei-y light suit with knicker- 
 bockers, and a straw hat rather on one side of his head. 
 Joanna decided that he looked conceited, and still further 
 stiffened her manner. 
 
 As for Sir Nicholas, he merely considered her shy, and 
 presently spoke to her condescendingly. 
 
 But Joanna, in her new stiffness and dignity, scarcely 
 answered him. 
 
 " We have had a most successful afternoon, haven't we ? " 
 said he. 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna. 
 
 "I haven't had as much excitement since I came to Bally- 
 lone." 
 
 This did not exactly require an answer, so she said nothing. 
 
 " Do you live hei-e all the year round ? " he began again. 
 
 "Yes," said Joanna, whereupon he gave up the effort, 
 stroked his moustache, and was silent. 
 
 But when he offered to drive her home, she mao-ically re- 
 gained her tongue ; the idea of driving boldly up to Cliff House 
 
with Sir Nicholas, in a dog-cart, and on Sunday, made her 
 shudder. 
 
 She got down at his gate with a haste which was scarcely 
 diguiflud, and her good-bye was very curt and stiff. 
 
 But she danced into the house with flushed cheeks and 
 shining eyes, very much delighted with her adventure, and 
 not a little alarmed at the possibility of its becoming public 
 property. 
 
 " Where in the world have you been ? " said Elizabeth, who 
 was still lying on the sofa. " Tou never brought me that 
 cushion." 
 
 " Cushion ?" said Joanna vaguely. It seemed about a year 
 since she had seen Elizabeth, and she had apparently been 
 lying on the sofa reading the same book ever since. 
 
 " And how in the world did you tear your dress ? " 
 
 "I have been looking after my swarm," said Joanna, "and 
 swarming bees are very exciting." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " I wish and I wish that the spring wonld go faster, 
 
 Nor long summer bide so late ; 
 And I could grow like the foxglove and aster, 
 
 For some things are ill to wait. 
 I wait for my story — the birds cannot sing it, 
 
 Not one aa he sits on the tree ; 
 The bells cannot ring it ; but, long years, oh, bring it 
 
 Such as I wish it to be." 
 
 Joanna was in her room, sitting on the floor in the midst of 
 the contents of her chest of drawers. 
 
 She was nothing if she was not untidy, and often suffered 
 severely in consequence ; she occasionally indulged in valiant 
 bursts of neatness, which had been known to last a whole 
 day. 
 
 At intervals, to her horror, Mrs. Conway made a descent 
 upon her room, placing everj'thing with scrupulous neatness, 
 but so that the owner could never find what she wanted, and 
 throwing away some of her most prized possessions as worth- 
 less. 
 
 This day Joanna had gone up to her room immediately 
 after the one o'clock dinner, with the intention of making her 
 drawers a model of neatness, but having taken the preliminary 
 step of depositing the contents on the floor, she had come upon 
 an ancient bit of carving which she had thought lost, and 
 thereupon given herself up to building castles in the air. 
 
 She saw herself, after a few lessons from some well-known 
 carver, being politely bowed out of his studio with the infor- 
 
20 A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 mation that he could teach her no more; she saw her work 
 the admiration of all, and herself one among many celebrities, 
 with little Polly beside her having no more Sunday lessons to 
 learn. Joanna laughed at herself for these dreams, and told 
 hei-self in words that they were absui-d. There was a hero 
 occasionally, a completely fascinating person, with a title and 
 plenty of money. Joanna wisely decided that she would not 
 have an ideal, and did not intend to be particular as to the 
 colour of his eyes and hair. At that rate, he should not part 
 his hair down the middle like Sir Nicholas Osborne, neither 
 should his nose be so big, nor his hat be worn on the side of 
 his head, and above all he should have excellent manners, and 
 not be in the least conceited. 
 
 During the last ten days Joanna had thought a good deal 
 about how she was to behave to Sir Nicholas, should she meet 
 him, or should he come to call, but neither event had as yet 
 occurred. 
 
 Her Sunday adventure was a great deal more interesting to 
 look back upon than it had been at the time, especially after 
 she had related it to Miss Chester, and it did seem dull that 
 nothing came of it. She would have liked to prove to Sir 
 Nicholas that she had not the smallest intention of letting her- 
 self be patronized. 
 
 She was sitting on the floor with her elbows on her knees, 
 ill the middle of a very interesting conversation with him in 
 which she was having decidedly the best of it, when Mrs. 
 Conway, who never thought it necessary to knock, suddenly 
 made her appearance with a pile of work in her arms. 
 
 " Well, Joanna," she said, in a tone of resignation, " I don't 
 know if you. are aware that it is three o'clock, and that Mi's. 
 Moreland has arrived already." 
 
 Joanna jumped up in dire dismay. 
 
 " Oh," she said, "I am very sorry; I didn't know it was so 
 late, but I won't be half a minute now, really." 
 
 "Perhaps you again intend to go for a walk with Edith 
 Chester ? " said Mrs. Conway scathingly, " but, if not, would 
 you kindly not leave all your clothes to litter the floor, and 
 change your dress and come down as quickly as possible." 
 
 "I was only going to tidy up," said Joanna. " I will be as 
 quick as I possibly can, and," in a conciliatory tone, " I will 
 work hard.'' 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't drop grease all over your carpet, 
 Joanna," was Mrs. Conway's parting benediction. 
 
 Joanna's efiFort in the line of tidiness was a failure ; she had 
 to bundle everything back into her drawers, and then hastily 
 change her dress, after which she wasted ten minutes in a 
 hurried search for her work, which had somehow managed to 
 get put away with the rest of her belongings. So, when she 
 
reached the drawing-room, she found the Zenana meeting 
 thoroughly settled dpwn to business. 
 
 The drawing-room at Cliff House was a small, square apart- 
 ment, with furniture ugly but solid. There was a piano in 
 one corner, which daily caused Polly bitter tears, and upon 
 which Joanna was still expected to practise for an hour and 
 a half every day. She had learned music all her life, with 
 the result that she now played almost as well as a fairly 
 advanced child of ten. y 
 
 On the opposite side of the room stood a big chifiFonier, on 
 which were ranged ciiina cups and saucers which Joanna was 
 expected to dust every morning, and which were always 
 getting lier into trouble by proving to have concealed accumu- 
 lations of blackness in unexpected corners. The rest of the 
 furniture consisted of ponderous tables and chairs, and a 
 writing table which nobody ever used. 
 
 The corner near the piano was now occupied by Mrs. More- 
 land, a preternaturally ugly and extremely deaf old lady, who 
 was usually content to sit and work in silence, but woke up at 
 odd and generally awkward times, and insisted upon having 
 the whole conversation repeated to her. Next to her sat Miss 
 Clarke, a stern and belligerent lady, who was on exceedingly 
 strained terms with Mrs. Conway, to say the least of it. Hav- 
 ing elected themselves as a sort of amateur churchwardens, 
 they had ample opportunities of disagreement, and after a lull 
 in hostilities occasioned by the vacant parish, were now 
 prepared to fight to the death over the new clergyman. Miss 
 Clarke had just secured a frequent bone of contention at these 
 meetings in the shape of the sewing-machine, and was con- 
 sequently looking mildly triumphant. 
 
 Then there was Mrs. Chester, a fat, goodnatured, and rather 
 vulgar person, troubled with an inconvenient sense of humour. 
 She was not a member of these meetings, was suspected to 
 disapprove of them, and was looked on very coldly in con- 
 sequence. But Miss Chester, having promised her assistance 
 in a moment of virtuous enthusiasm, had found two meetings 
 sufficient to damp her ardoui", and so had made over the 
 honour of representing her, together with a half finished and 
 somewhat puckered froclc, to her mother, for whom she said 
 and thought it was very good and suitable. The rest of the 
 meeting consisted of Mrs. Morris, who was yawning uncon- 
 cealedly behind her work, and little Polly, who sat on a high 
 chair, and pricked her fingers over a handkerchief which 
 would be amply sufficient in size were the whole Zenana at one 
 and the same moment to be stricken with colds in the head. 
 
 Mrs. Conway sat very erect at a table in the middle of the 
 room, with a pile of missionary reports beside her, and a warm 
 petticoat, half finished, on her knee. 
 
22 A SELF-DENTma ORDINANCE. 
 
 She laid down the missionary report on Joanna's entrance, 
 and waited with resignation till she had shaken hands all 
 round, and retired to a seat near Mrs. Chester. 
 
 " I am in hopes," said Mrs. Conway, addressing the meeting 
 generally, "of seeing the Eev. Mr. Jellett among us this 
 afternoon. I have left orders that he is to be admitted, if he 
 comes." 
 
 " He arrived yesterday," said Miss Clarke, anxious to prove 
 that she was completely informed upon the matter. " 1 sent 
 him a note as soon as I heard of it, informing him of this 
 meeting, and telling him that I was sure you would be glad 
 to see him." 
 
 "That was indeed kind of you. Miss Clarke," said Mrs. 
 Conway, in tones of indignation, "but I think you might 
 almost have left the matter to me." 
 
 " I was writing in any case," said Miss Clarke, taking her 
 work out of the sewing-machine and surveying it. "I wished 
 to let Mr. Jellett know that he was welcome to the use of our 
 gardener to get the Eectory grounds put in order." 
 
 "That again I think you might almost more decorously 
 have left to me," said Mrs. Conway, who was full of wrath 
 that this brilliant idea had not occurred to her. 
 
 " What ? what did you say ? " said Mrs. Moreland suddenly. 
 
 "That report was very interesting," said Mrs. Chester, who 
 had not heard a word of it, " may we not have some more ? " 
 
 " Perhaps if Miss Clarke has quite finished, she will allow 
 Mrs. Chester to have the machine," said Mrs. Conway. 
 
 " I was just, about to use it again," said Miss Clarke, " but 
 of course if Mrs. Chester requires it " 
 
 " Oh, not in the least," said Mrs. Chester hastily. 
 
 "Then, if you are sure nobody else requires it," said Miss 
 Clarke meekly, " I should be glad to have it for a short time 
 longer." 
 
 Whereupon she used it for a tiny seam she would have 
 found it much easier to sew by hand. 
 
 Tea made a happy diversion at this stage of the proceedings, 
 and just as Joanna had finished pouring it out there was a 
 knock at the hall-door, and everybody started. 
 
 "It is Mr. Jellett, I suppose," said Mrs. Conway, in a tone 
 of sudden amiability. 
 
 There was a general little bustle, from which Joanna held 
 herself sternly aloof. 
 
 Then the door was opened, and the maid announced : " Sir 
 Nicholas Osborne. " 
 
 Joanna dropped her work and became a vivid scarlet, but 
 nobody noticed her,' not even Sir Nicholas, who was unhesi- 
 tatingly and with small disguise wishing himself at home 
 
He did not believe he had ever seen so many old women 
 together in his life— ^certainly not a group that looked so com- 
 pletely as if they had come out of Noah's ark. He felt and 
 looked dismayed. 
 
 After the first pause of surprise and almost consternation 
 Mrs. Conway rose: "Won't you sit down," she said, "and 
 have some tea ? May I introduce you to Mrs. Morelaud, Mrs. 
 Cliester, and Miss Clarke and my daughters." 
 
 Sir Nicholas bowed vaguely in i-esponse to this wholesale in- 
 troduction, and sat down with a good deal of extra manner on. 
 
 "Thank you," he said, "I should like some tea. Lovely 
 weather we are having." 
 
 Then he glanced round the room in what Joanna consid- 
 ered a very supercilious way, and became absorbed in his 
 moustache. 
 
 Joanna became suddenly conscious of a shabby dress and a 
 lack of stays, also of an extreme fear lest Sir Nicholas should 
 disclose their former meeting. 
 
 But Sir Nicholas had no intention of doing anything of the 
 kind, and indeed was not troubling his head much about her. 
 
 " I am afraid I am in the way," he said. 
 
 "Oh, not at all ; we are very glad to see you," said Mrs. 
 Conway, who would have liked to convince the rest that Sir 
 Nicholas was a habitual visitor, had it been at all possible. 
 
 In the meantime Joanna was endeavouring to suppress Mrs. 
 Moreland, who was inquiring: "Who is he?" in a stage 
 whisper, and everybody had stopped working. 
 
 Sir Nicholas went to Joanna for his tea, but he did not sit 
 down beside her as she had expected. " He moved over to 
 Mrs. Morris, who had struck him as the only pretty woman 
 in the room, and addressed her with the slight stammer with 
 which he sometimes spoke — not so much a stammer as an 
 occasional difficulty in getting out a word. 
 
 "I be— believe we have met once before in the village," he 
 said ; " in McCracken's shop, wasn't it ? " 
 
 "I was down there once this week," said Mrs. Morris, "but 
 it is very seldom that I can get so far. This place does not 
 agree with me." 
 
 " I should have thought it was healthy, at least," said he. 
 
 "Perhaps you don't suffer from neuralgia," said Mrs. 
 Morris plaintively. "I endure a perfect martyrdom— some- 
 times I can't sleep for nights." 
 
 Sir Nicholas ceased to be interested ; Mrs. Morris was disap- 
 pointing. When he put down his cup he remained standing 
 beside Joanna. 
 
 " What are you making ? " he said, which question hap- 
 pened to be embarrassing. Joanna blushed, and he did not 
 wait for an answer. 
 
24 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " What about those bees ? " he said. , tt j j j 
 
 " Oh, hush ! " said Joanna under her breath. He nodded, 
 and all at once they seemed to have jumped into intimacy. 
 
 "I feel a deep interest in them, however," he said. 
 "Couldn't you," with a brilliant inspiration, "take me to 
 see them ? " 
 
 "Now ? " said Joanna. " Oh, no ! " 
 
 " That is rather unkind," said Sir Nicholas. " I was think- 
 ing of starting bees, and hoped you would give me a few 
 hints." 
 
 And then he followed up an unintentionally significant look 
 wliich Joanna threw at her mother, and astonished her much 
 by the temerity of his prompt request. Still more was she 
 surprised by Mrs. Conway's equally prompt and suave consent. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 " Some men, like pictures, are fitter for a corner than full light." 
 
 They walked down the garden in silence. Sir Nicholas 
 was making a rash vow that nothing would persuade him 
 ever to enter Cliit' House again, and was congratulating him- 
 self on having escaped, and Joanna was divided between a 
 desire to acquit herself with dignity and the delight of finding 
 herself free in the sunshine with somebody new and young. 
 
 Mr. Conway, with an eye to the practical, had planted his 
 garden entirely with vegetables and fruit; only in Joanna's 
 little corner were there flowers, and even they were rather 
 with a view to business, too. The garden covered a little 
 more than an acre, and had high walls all round it, conse- 
 quently Joanna and Sir Nicholas found themselves very com- 
 pletely alone. 
 
 Joanna's natural friendliness conquered her dignity before 
 they had passed the raspberry bed and got to the cabbages. 
 
 " You don't really want to see the bees, do you ?" she said. 
 
 " I must confess," said Sir Nicholas, " that my chief object 
 was to get away from all those old women. I have no doubt 
 they are most worthy ladies, but, you see, I am not greatly in 
 the habit of attending sewing meetings." 
 
 Joanna laughed. " If you are going to live here, you will 
 have to get accustomed to old women," she said. "For the 
 remarkable thing about this place is that nobody ever dies." 
 
 ' ' Heaven forfend that I should live here," said Sir Nicholas, 
 in dismay. 
 
 " I don't know whether you have remarked that the village 
 is full of ancient people, who look as if they wouldn't live a 
 
M. ISJ3JL,P-UJUJSXIJSU- UKlJlJSAJSilE. ZO 
 
 •week, " said Joanna. " And I have got a theory for it— would 
 you like to hear it ? " 
 
 Sir Nicholas made use of his favourite expression, ''Cer- 
 tainly," and returned to his moustache, which he had neg- 
 lected for some time. 
 
 " I tliinlc it is because they get so accustomed to doing ex- 
 actly the same thing every day, and to nothing happening, 
 that it never occurs to them it is possible to make such a 
 change as to die," said Joanna, and having reached her own 
 part of the garden, she stooped to piclc up a weed. 
 
 " That's an idea," said Sir Nicholas, looking at Joanna for 
 the first time. " But you don't suppose those old people want 
 excitement ? " 
 
 "I don't know, I am sure," said Joanna. "But I know 
 that I should like some. I'll tell you what I want: I want to 
 he— thrilled ! " 
 
 "D-do you ?" said Sir Nicholas, with his slight stammer, 
 and a very significant look from his long, blue eyes. 
 
 They came to the beehives, and sat down on a seat near, 
 which Joanna explained she had made entirely herself. 
 
 Then she was perfectly happy, for, while they were walk- 
 ing, the recollection that her dress did not hang quite straight 
 had troubled her. Joanna had hardly ever talked to a man 
 with whom she could feel herself on a level before, and she 
 liked it very much. His manner, and the way he sometimes 
 looked at her, — which came perfectly natural to him, — was 
 delightful to her, and dimly exciting. 
 
 As for Sir Nicholas, whose society lines had generally lain 
 among married women, he thought Joanna a very nice, fresh 
 little girl, and found the afternoon very pleasant. 
 
 It was she who first remembered, with a shock of horror, 
 that they had been a long time away. 
 
 " Must we go back ? " said Sir Nicholas lazily. " Then you 
 p-promise me the next swarm, don't you. Miss Conway ?" 
 
 " Not that old Kelly will let you have anything to do with 
 it,'' said Joanna. " Come, Sir Nicholas, we must really go." 
 
 " But, first of all, you will give me one of those red carna- 
 tions for my buttonhole, won't you ? " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 He had selected a plant which Joanna had intended for a 
 country flower-show a few days later; but after a short hesi- 
 tation, which he took for coquetry, she gave it to him — which 
 was exceedingly foolish, as anything else would have done for 
 him quite as well. 
 
 " It has been awfully jolly sitting here," he said. " And I 
 hope we shall always be capital friends now." 
 
 " Well, I don't know about that," said Joanna. " If I meet 
 you in a condescending humour, I am afraid we shall not." 
 
 Sir Nicholas laughed. " I give you free permission to snub 
 
26 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 me, in that case," he said. "Not that J at all acknowledge 
 that I ever tried to condescend to you." _ 
 
 But all the same, when they reached the house agam, he 
 had his very grandest manner on. 
 
 The amiability of their reception was somethmg marvellous, 
 and Sir Nicholas was pressed to come again in a way which 
 would have troubled Joanna if she had been a little older. 
 As it was she was delighted, with a frankness which he did 
 not entirely interpret aright. 
 
 " That is an exceedingly nice young man," said Mrs. Con- 
 way, when he was gone. " Don't trouble about your work, 
 Joanna; you can easily make it up some other time." 
 
 Joanna opened her eyes wide, but said nothing. 
 
 To her sister she was more communicative. 
 
 " He is very good-looking," said Mrs. Morris. 
 
 " Do you think so ?" said Joanna. " I can't say I admire 
 him, and he is dreadfully conceited and affected." 
 
 " I don't wonder you are hard to please, living in a place 
 like this," said Mrs. Morris. 
 
 " But, Aunt Joanna," remarked Polly, " why did you give 
 him one of the show carnations ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mrs. Morris; " you are a very intelligent child, 
 Polly." 
 
 Meanwhile Sir Nicholas strolled homeward, very well con- 
 tent with his afternoon. He liked Joanna, though she was 
 not at all what he would have called his sort. However, 
 months at Ballylone had made him ready to be rather easily 
 pleased. 
 
 Not unnaturally, being a young man who liked society and 
 soft cushions and good dinners, he was bored— bored to ex- 
 tinction. 
 
 Even if all one's prospects have come to a dismal collapse, 
 and life altogether has gone wrong, it is not pleasant to be 
 bored— at least, Sir Nicholas did not find it pleasant. 
 
 There are some advantages, undoubtedly, in going through 
 life vyithout any particularly fixed principles, but there are 
 likewise some drawbacks. 
 
 Nicholas Osborne had been sent into the world with an ex- 
 treme aptitude for spending money, but, unfortunately, very 
 little money to spend. If this had been all, he might have 
 been no worse off than a hundred men of his acquaintance. 
 
 But he had scarcely had a fair chance. 
 
 It is a drawback to a boy to be allowed to scramble up in a 
 household filled with men of doubtful character and women 
 of character not doubtful at all: also to be dowered with a 
 name predisposing all his acquaintance to consider him a 
 scamp: with these drawbacks, Nicholas Osborne started into 
 life. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 27 
 
 His father troubled himself not at all about the boy: he was 
 there, and he was fed and clothed, after which he was wel- 
 come to amuse himself as he saw fit, and to pick up harm if 
 he chose or good if he could. Personally, Nicholas enjoyed 
 himself: everybody was kind to him, there was always 
 amusement of some kind within reach, and there were plenty 
 of horses to ride. 
 
 When he was nearly fifteen his father died, which was 
 fortunate for him. He was sent to Eton, which was very flat 
 at first, but, being gifted with a perfect genius for accommo- 
 dating himself to circumstances, he soon made himself happy 
 there, and was very popular and much admired. As far 
 as anybody could judge, he did not seem to have picked up 
 much harm, and he was more inclined to let himself be influ- 
 enced than to influence others. Certainly he was contentedly 
 ignorant, caring for nothing but horses and racing; and those 
 who knew him best were aware that his word was not entirely 
 to be depended upon; but he was extremely kind-hearted, 
 excellent company, and particularly generous with his money, 
 as far as it went. 
 
 He left Eton without getting into any serious scrape, and 
 did sufiiciently well at James', where he was sent to cram. 
 
 When he went into the Guards his name caused him to be 
 looked on with a certain amount of suspicion; but the sus- 
 picion died away, as there seemed to be no particular reason 
 for it. 
 
 On first acquaintance, men still sometimes said to each 
 other: "Osborne? — not that blackguard Osborne's son? I 
 wouldn't trust one of that lot further than I could see him.'' 
 
 But on further acquaintance they were inclined to admit 
 that he was not a bad fellow, in spite of his name. 
 
 Nicholas himself really intended to live his life satisfactorily 
 before the face of all men, and if he had been a rich man he 
 would, in all probability, have been a very estimable and 
 popular member of society. 
 
 But being in the Guards, he unfortunately failed to realise 
 that he was a poorer man than most of his brother-officers, 
 and that he could not conveniently live in exactly the same 
 way as others with more than double his income. 
 
 Nicholas could have more easily made up his mind to rob 
 a bank than to incur the contempt of a railway porter by an 
 insufficient tip ; this, too, was unfortunate. 
 
 Also he had one expensive taste — horse-flesh — and a ten- 
 dency to do as others did which led him to throw away 
 money on things which gave him no pleasure ; most 
 unfortunate of all, he fell in love with a Lady Florence 
 Delacque, who was married, and was not in any way calcu- 
 lated to afifect him toward good. 
 
28 A SBLF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was a very good-looking, " smart" young 
 man, and was in the best society; he went to the first tailor 
 in town for his clothes, belonged to numerous clubs, and 
 could stroll down Bond Street as though half London belonged 
 to him. He also looked very well when he rode through the 
 streets in uniform, or came in first, in blue with a ^yhite cap, 
 on a race-course, but he very often had not a shilling in his 
 pocket, and Lady Florence, who admired him very much, 
 knew this. On the other hand he was desperately in love 
 with her. 
 
 One day he gained from her the admission — a safe one— that, 
 if lack of funds had not been an objection, she might have 
 consented to give up all for him, whereupon Sir Nicholas 
 became very unreasonably elated. 
 
 It was about this time that a dreadful thing happened to 
 him, and if Lady Florence's promise had anything to do 
 with it, nobody could say so, least of all Nicholas himself. 
 Besides a great many people declared that the thing bad been 
 going on for a long time before it was found out — it was the 
 bad Osborne blood coming to the front. 
 
 Be that as it may, one night at the Guards' Club Nicholas' 
 play was suspected, — sooner than it would have been, perhaps, 
 had he been known by any other name, — he was watched, and 
 two or three days later suspicion became certainty. 
 
 He had been playing with Guardsmen, who did not wish to 
 be harder than was necessary ; but this was a crime which to 
 them was as no other. 
 
 They gave him his choice between public disgrace, and 
 sending in his papers, taking his name ofip the Guards' Club, 
 and abjuring baccarat. He chose to take their offer. 
 
 He said himself that he was a much wronged man, and the 
 victim either of a plot or of a terrible mistake. He said it 
 with a passionate conviction which brought awful misgiving 
 to one or two of his accusers. 
 
 Be the truth what it might, it iVas utter ruin for him. 
 
 He said good-bye to Lady Florence, and crossed the sea to 
 Ireland and Ballylone; choosing this place, partly because he 
 had no money and no credit to go anywhere else, and partly 
 because he wished to avoid the risk of meeting anyone he had 
 ever known. 
 
 He was intensely miserable at first, but it was not in his 
 nature to be always miserable. 
 
 What was the use of sitting down to brood over a thing 
 which could not be helped, for the rest of his life ? Was it 
 not better to forget it when he could ? 
 
 And if Joanna helped him to forget it, it was evident that 
 he must cultivate Joanna. 
 
X± UM^UJ.' -Mf£UJ.\ J. J.J.y IT \/JXJJJ.J.J.£l.iy KJJJJ. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " On the cold hill under the sky, 
 Here to-day, in the cloudy weather, 
 The wind, as he passed me by, 
 Laugh'd, ' They two are walking together 
 Merry, and I know why. 
 For I met them aa I came hither.' " 
 
 Cliff House lay between the village and the Lodge, where 
 Sir Nicholas lived. His avenue gate opened a little further 
 upon the road, which went eventually to Derry, and gave 
 adtnission to a narrow track, needing gravelling sorely, 
 and leading straight up to the house. Tlie entrance was 
 by no means imposing: the avenue, such as it was, was 
 lined on either side by straggling groups of half-grown 
 trees, and old stumps in different stages of mossiness, which 
 marked the numerous occasions upon which Nicholas and 
 his fatlier had wanted money. Tliey "had gone on want- 
 ing it, till every tree worthy of the name had been cut down ; 
 but then, they had certainly neither of them ever expected to 
 live at the Lodge. 
 
 The house itself had been built half as a fishing lodge, half 
 as a gardener's cottage, in the days when there were fl.sh to be 
 caught in the river near. 
 
 It was a tiny, square house, with a tiny hall and a straight 
 stairway leading to three or four tiny bedrooms. Down- 
 stairs there was the kitchen, the dining-room, and a room 
 known as "the office," where some ancient rods and flies still 
 remained and where old Kelly kept some of his gardening 
 apparatus. 
 
 But fish in the Lone now were few and far between. It 
 was a very small river, which flowed behind the Lodge and 
 Cliff House, and then, winding round, made its way with a 
 series of little waterfalls to the village. There was one dark 
 pool, where little Edwin Conway's body had been found years 
 ago, but in most places it was shallow enough, even running 
 nearly dry in the summer. 
 
 From the Conways' house the road made a circle of an 
 Irish half mile before it reached the village, but there was a 
 short cut, known as " McCracken's loanan " which came out 
 direetly behind McCracken's shop, and nearly opposite the 
 little house on the street where Mrs. Moreland and her son the 
 doctor lived. 
 
 The Chesters and the Clarkes were both a little way out of 
 the village, on opposite sides. 
 
 Miss Clarke and her brother lived on the road which led 
 past the cliurch to the station, and they were next to the 
 3 
 
30 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Rectory, which in parochial matters gave Miss Clarke a dis- 
 tinct advantage over Mrs, Conway. 
 
 It was Sunday, and a very wet Sunday too ; but neverthe- 
 less all Ballylone was in church, for it was Mr. Jellett's first 
 appearance, and everybody considered it his or her duty to 
 support him by presence and criticism. 
 
 The church was full of umbrellas and waterproofs. 
 
 The Conway umbrellas were making quite a little puddle 
 on the cai'pet of the pew, and a small stream was slowly wind- 
 ing in the direction of Polly's little black legs. 
 
 Miss Chester was in church, and as a rule she had a particu- 
 lar aversion to going out on wet daj's ; she had put on a new 
 dress, too, in spite of the rain which pattered against the 
 windows, and even trickled in through one, and dripped 
 slowly down upon the monument : "Sacred to the memory 
 of Edwin Conway, aged twelve." 
 
 Sir Nicholas Osborne was in church, a fact of which Joanna 
 was immediateljr conscious, as also that he wore a still present- 
 able carnation in his buttonhole. Between Thursday and 
 Sunday there are forty-eight hours, and this meant that he 
 had put the flower twice in water. He looked very handsome 
 and Joaima thought a black coat suited him, and, as she would 
 have said herself, felt a little " thrilled." 
 
 He divided the attention of the congregation with the new 
 clergyman, a small, pale young man, who hurried through the 
 service rather nervously, and preached a ten minutes' halting 
 sermon. 
 
 Then there was a gleam of damp sunshine, during which 
 the "quality" stood in a group near the porch and discussed 
 Mr. Jellett. The village people went home, and discussed him 
 too. 
 
 They all considered his delivery poor and his vestments not 
 all that could be wished. Mrs. McOracken, while wishing to 
 stand up for her lodger, " allowed " that he might have given 
 them " a while longer," and Mrs. Conway said substantially 
 the same. 
 
 "Don't let me keep anybody," said Mrs. Conway. "I am 
 only waiting to see Mr. Jellett, and ask him to come to early 
 dinner ; I disapprove of Sunday visitprs, but the clergymanis 
 an exception." 
 
 " It is so good of you to think of it, dear Mrs. Conway," 
 said Miss Clarke, " but he is coming to us." 
 
 Joanna was looking round for Sir Nicholas, who seemed to 
 have disappeared ; she shook hands with everybody abstract- 
 edly, and reflected that he was very rude. 
 
 Miss Chester came up to her eagerly. "I wish I had gone 
 to the last Zenana meeting, " she said. ' ' I hear you had a great 
 excitement." 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBBINANCE. 31 
 
 " Well," said Joanna, " I didn't feel much excited. Polly, 
 put on your waterproof ; it is beginning to rain again." 
 
 "Come on now," said Miss Chester. "Sir Nicholas has 
 only just gone out of the gate. I know quite well that he 
 wants to speak to me, and he is sure to come up to you if he 
 sees us together." 
 
 Joanna agreed that they had better go on ; the short gleam 
 of sunshine was over. 
 
 They passed Sir Nicholas talking to somebody at the church- 
 yard gate, and he took off his hat to Joanna. 
 
 But as they splashed along High Street he came up to them, 
 with the collar of his coat tiirned up, and rain dripping from 
 the rim of his hat, his nose, his moustache. 
 
 The others, with tucked up skirts and drenched umbrellas, 
 were making their way through a network of mud and 
 puddles. Little Polly hopped about, splashed rather more 
 than was necessary, and remarked complacently that she had 
 water running about inside one of her boots. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Conway ? " said Sir Nicholas, holding 
 out a damp hand. > 
 
 " May I introduce you to Miss Chester ? " said Joanna, in a 
 desperate hurry, lest she should be thought unfriendly. 
 
 But Miss Chester had not long to enjoy the introduction, 
 for their ways parted at McCracken's loanan. 
 
 She would have walked round with Joanna if it had been 
 a fine day, or if there had been any possible excuse, but in 
 default she was obliged to say good-bye, without even the 
 felicity of shaking hands with Sir Nicholas, who had no wish 
 to stand still in the rain. 
 
 "I suppose," said Joanna, with some hesitation, " we had 
 better go by the short cut. I don't see any sign of my father 
 and mother, but they walk very slowly." 
 
 " You don't propose waiting here for them, I hope ? " said 
 Sir Nicholas, who was standing disgustedly in a puddle. 
 
 "I hope you have got thick boots, if you are coming with 
 us," said Joanna anxiously. 
 
 He laughed, and said that he defied the mud even of an Irish 
 lane to get through his shooting boots, and then they started. 
 
 " That was a Miss Chester you introduced me to just now, 
 wasn't it?" said Sir Nicholas. "There's no doubt she can 
 make good use of her eyes, but she's getting a bit long in the 
 tooth, isn't she ? " 
 
 "What on earth does that mean?" said Joanna, who 
 thought it a very ugly expression ; and over an explanation 
 they became quite friendly, and she began to think the wet 
 and mud absolutely rather pleasant than otherwise. 
 
 " Aunt Joanna, your umbrella is dripping down my neck," 
 said Polly, who was clinging to her hand. 
 
32 A 8ELF-DBNTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " "Why, Polly, what have you been doing ? Your dress is 
 mud up to your waist," said Joanna, waking up to the little 
 girl's existence with dismay. 
 
 " You don't like wet Sundays, do you, young lady ?" said 
 Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " I don't like any Sundays," said Polly, m a depressed tone. 
 " You wouldn't, if you had to learn Collects and Gospels. 
 Had you, when you were a little boy ? " 
 
 "Never! " said Sir Nicholas, with great truth. 
 
 "I don't mind going to church so much," said Polly, taking 
 some trouble to walk into a particularly fascinating puddle, 
 " because mamma said I might tell myself stories during the 
 sermon." 
 
 " Polly, you naughty child ! " said Joanna ; and then Polly 
 dropped out of the conversation, and finding herself unob- 
 served, amused herself by shaking the hedge whenever she 
 got near enough, thereby giving herself a very complete 
 showerbath. 
 
 Sir Nicholas said good-bye at the Conways' gate, by which 
 time, in spite of Joanna's umbrella, they were all three as wet 
 as possible. 
 
 He distinctly held her hand a little longer than was neces- 
 sary, and let his blue eyes meet her brown ones very directly. 
 
 "When shall I see you again?" he said; and though 
 Joanna only laughed, and said she hadn't the slightest idea, 
 the words kept running in her head the rest of the day a.s she 
 sat indoors, learned her Gospel, and watched the rain pelting 
 against the windows. "When shall I see you again?" he 
 had said, and in the garden on Thursday, "I hope we shall 
 be capital friends now." " Must we go back ?" 
 
 Joanna wondered if all men said things like that, and would 
 look at her like that, and decided that Sir Nicholas was better 
 looking than she had imagined at first. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Oh, ne Tous h^tez point de mflrir vos pens^es, 
 Jouissez de matin, jouiasez du printempe ; 
 Tos heiira sont des fleurs, I'une b. I'antre enlac^es ; 
 Ne les effenillez pas plus vite que le temps." 
 
 Mrs. Conway never wrote letters on Sunday, but the very 
 next morning, after a slight remonstrance from her husband, 
 she sent a note to Sir Nicholas asking him if next Wednesday 
 would suit him to come to dinner, or if not, would he settle 
 his own evening ? 
 
 She defended her proceeding on the highest moral grounds. 
 
"You know every soul in Bally lone will say you are throw- 
 ing yourself at that young fellow's head, and making very 
 little of Joanna," said Mr. Conway. 
 
 "That I cannot help," said his wife severely. "I was 
 never one to give up doing what I thought right in fear of 
 uncharitable remarks. If Edwin had lived and had gone 
 to live alone, would we not have wished others to be kind 
 to him?" 
 
 And to do her justice, Mrs. Conway really believed in her 
 own explanation of her motives. 
 
 Of course Sir Nicholas was amused ; he was rather flattered 
 than otherwise, though a trifle bored, and he would have been 
 immensely astonished had anyone told him that Joanna knew 
 nothing about the invitation. He felt a decided diminution of 
 his desire to see her again, but he accepted for Wednesday all 
 the same. 
 
 Then Mrs. Conway asked Mr. Jellett and the Clarkes, and 
 everjrbody said, especially Miss Chester, that the way slie was 
 running after Sir Nicholas was disgraceful. 
 
 The dinner party was not altogether a success. To begin 
 with, it was depressing to be assured up to the last minute that 
 Sir Nicholas was absolutely sure to fail, which ungrateful 
 task Mr. Conway took upon himself; and then there was a 
 terrible disaster in the kitchen, where tlie girl who had been 
 brought in for the evening quarrelled with the cook, and 
 between them a tray of soup-plates came to destruction. 
 
 Whereupon Polly, an excitable little person, who was 
 nearly out of her wits at the idea of wearing her best frock 
 and coming down to dessert, further aroused her grand- 
 mother's wrath by laughter, and on refusing to stop, was con- 
 veyed to the wine cellar and shut up there in the dark. 
 Joanna, who was half dressed, made an effort, hoping against 
 hope, to get Elizabeth to interfere. 
 
 Elizabeth was sorry, though she wished Joanna would not 
 upset her when she knew how it vexed her to hear that Polly 
 was in trouble. 
 
 They made an expedition to the wine cellar together. 
 
 "No," said Polly, in a shaky voice. "Don't be so sorry, 
 mamma; I don't so very particularly mind it." 
 
 " You see," said Elizabeth, " mother won't enjoy her 
 dinner-party if she thinks you are frightened, Polly ; it is only 
 quite little girls that are afraid of the dark." 
 
 " I am not afraid," said Polly valiantly. " I know it is all 
 nonsense to see little black men corkscrewing out of empty 
 bottles. My eyes see such funny things in the dark. I shall 
 tell myself stories as fast as I can." 
 
 "Yes, don't be ridiculous," said Elizabeth. 
 
 " There are such lots and lots of bottles ! " said Polly, 
 
34 A 8ELF-DBNTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " "Wouldn't it be funny if grandmamma was to come and find 
 me quite drunk ? " .., t-,-,- t iT_ n r> 
 
 "You mustn't taste anything," said Elizabeth. Come; 
 
 Joanna ; we must go." 
 
 But Polly called Joanna back for a mmute. , , . , 
 
 "I am so disappointed," she said, withasigh. "Idon tthink 
 the little Sunday devil ought to have come to make me laugh 
 on Wednesday, do you 2 I am a tiny bit frightened, Aunt 
 Joanna ; the bottles always dislike having me here." 
 
 " I would stay, dear, if I could," said Joanna, who thought 
 she had heard a knock. " Be a brave girl, and I will ask 
 grandmamma to let you out after dinner." 
 
 " Don't tell Sir Nicholas that I was naughty," said Polly, in 
 a whisper : she had taken an immense liking for Sir Nicholas, 
 added to extreme admiration. 
 
 Consequently Joanna had to finish her dressing very hastily, 
 and not even the thoughts of the dinner-party downstairs 
 could make her quite happy. 
 
 She was late, but Sir Nicholas was later — so' late that even 
 Joanna was almost convinced that he was going to fail them 
 again, with a sinking of heart and a good deal of injured vanity. 
 
 And when he did come, he was quite different from the Sir 
 Nicholas of the garden and the wet lane. He was languid, 
 rather affected, and openly bored. He stroked his moustache, 
 and looked as if he thought it too much trouble to answer 
 when spoken to. 
 
 Dinner was rather trj'ing. They were an uncomfortable 
 number, and no arranging could make things very satisfactory. 
 
 Sir Nicholas took in Mrs. Conway, and she had managed to 
 put Joanna on the other side ; but under the shadow of her 
 mother, and oppressed by Sir Nicholas' manner, Joanna had 
 nothing to say. 
 
 Mr. Jellett opposite was enduring agonies of shyness, and 
 conversation languished and came to awful pauses. 
 
 Mrs. Conway and Miss Clarke were both full of anxiety to 
 instruct Mr. Jellett, and the conversation at Cliff House was 
 never of a light and frivolous description. Mr. Conway and 
 Mr. Clarke exchanged opinions about farming from opposite 
 ends of the table ; Sir Nicholas barely pretended to listen to 
 an account of Mrs. Morris' ills, and Joanna sun-eptitiously 
 watched him, and decided that his nose was exceedingly ugly, 
 and a trifle crooked. 
 
 The dinner was bad, the maid Annie allowed her admira- 
 tion for Sir Nicholas to engross her to the neglect of her 
 duties, and Roddy smelt of the stables. 
 
 Things began equally unfortunately in the drawing-room. 
 Joanna to her horror was sent to the piano, while Miss Clarke 
 and Mrs. Conway took possession of Mr. Jellett. 
 
A 8ELF-DENTIN0 ORDINANCE. 3& 
 
 Sir Nicholas sauntered after Joanna. 
 
 " Shall I turn over ? " he said, strangling a yawn. 
 
 " You are going to be astonished," said Joanna desperately. 
 "If there is anything I hate, it is being sent to play, when 
 I can't. It is misery to me 1 " and tiiere were actually tears 
 rising to her eyes. 
 
 " Shall I play instead ? " said Sir Nicholas good-naturedly. 
 "It will be a charity to me, for I have no piano at the Lodge, 
 and you shall play to me some other time." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " said Joanna, with alacrity. " How is it 
 you are so nice sometimes, and sometimes so horrid ? " 
 
 Sir Nicholas laughed. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear I am sometimes horrid," he said, 
 "b-but no one could help being nice to you." 
 
 He looked at her, and kept his hand fo;' a moment on hers 
 as they turned over the music. Then he sat down, and played 
 one thing after another, while Joanna felt that the world was 
 a very delightful place after all. 
 
 In the distance she heard : "I can assure you, Mr. Jellett, 
 Jane Bruce is a very deserving case." 
 
 "I am very sorry to differ from you, Mrs. Conway, but I don't 
 want Mr. Jellett to be imposed upon, as I am afraid you must 
 have been. I know for a fact that Jane Bruce drinks." 
 
 " I think you have been misinformed, my dear. As a young 
 man, and new to tlie parish, you may have difficulties, Mr. 
 Jellett, but I shall always be very glad to help you. I am sure 
 you agree with me that a clergyman should devote at least 
 four days a week to visiting among his people ? " 
 
 "The parish is a very scattered one, and if you take my 
 advice ^" 
 
 So it went on ; Mr. Jellett making no effort to speak, Mr. 
 Conway sleeping in his chair, Mrs. Morris trying to make con- 
 versation for Mr. Clarke, who wanted to go home, while 
 Joanna sat by Sir Nicholas and talked to him under cover of 
 the music. 
 
 And at last they all departed, after Mrs. Conway had asked 
 Mr. Jellett to close their first meeting with a prayer — a proposal 
 which filled him with such utter dismay that he never after- 
 ward knew how he managed to refuse and get himself out of 
 the house. 
 
 Elizabeth dashed into Joanna's room as she was getting into 
 bed. 
 
 " Polly ! " she said, "you have forgotten Polly ! " 
 
 " Good gracious ! I got her out directly after dinner," said 
 Joanna, in astonishment. 
 
 After this evening, somehow or other Joanna and Sir 
 Nicholas began to meet constantly and to become quite 
 intimate. 
 
36 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Certainly Polly generally assisted at these interviews, but 
 she could scarcely be called a restraint, and though she 
 listened with all her ears, and probably meditated deeply over 
 all she heard, she never asked any questions. 
 
 As for Joanna, she was more thoughtless than Polly ; and 
 when Sir Nicholas asked her what she was going to do next 
 day it seemed the most natural thin§' in the world to tell him. 
 Her life had all at once turned into excitement, and she 
 enjoyed it without attempting to discover why, and became so 
 accustomed to it that it never occurred to her it might not go 
 on forever. 
 
 When she went to bed at night she knew that in all prob- 
 ability she would see Sir Nicholas the next day, and he had 
 become so much a part of her life that the days before she 
 knew him seemed dim and far off, and she would have thought 
 it just as possible that her father or her mother should go 
 away and be lost sight of as that he should. 
 
 Joanna wondered how she could ever have found Ballylone 
 dull, and why she had been in such a hurry to leave it. 
 
 Even her mother seemed to have miraculously changed, and 
 was quite ready to invite Sir Nicholas to the house, but he very 
 much preferred avoiding the bother of preliminaries, and the 
 Conway family in general bored him very much. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Chester developed one of her sudden and 
 violent affections for him, opening the attack by a tendency to 
 visit McCracken's at the time when she knew lie came for his 
 paper. 
 
 Sir Nicholas confided his trials to Joanna, but was exceed- 
 ingly capable of defending himself had he been very anxious 
 to do so. 
 
 Miss Chester, perceiving that she was not making any per- 
 ceptible progress, turned her attention to Mr. Jellett, who had 
 already quite enough trouble on his hands. He was striving 
 his very best for peace, and Miss Chester, whom he immensely 
 admired, decidedly complicated his difHculties, by taking it 
 into her head to influence him in a high-church direction, 
 which was the line of his own inclination, but not likely to 
 make him popular in Ballylone. 
 
 She even began to make him a very gorgeous and ritualistic 
 altar-cloth, much to his embarrassment ; and having sewed on 
 a couple of inches of gold cord she made the work over to 
 her mother, which was rather hard, as Mrs. Chester was low 
 church in her tendencies, and had strongly disapproved of 
 the altar-cloth from the first. She also disapproved of her 
 daughter's advances to Mr. Jellett from the point of view of 
 propriety, but Miss Chester said it was quite time her mother 
 got rid of such old-fashioned notions and prejudices. 
 
 At the same time, she did not neglect Sir Nicholas. 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBDINANCE. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Sitteth the fair ladye 
 Close to tlie riveiBide, 
 Which iiiuneth on with a merry tone 
 Her merry thoughts to guide : 
 
 " It runneth through the trees, 
 It runneth by the hill, 
 Nathless the lady's thoughts have found 
 A way more pleasant still." 
 
 " What in the world are you doing ? " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 Joanna was sitting on the wall just outside Clifif House 
 gate and displaying a rather liberal amount of ankle. 
 
 " I am thinking whether I shall go back for an umbrella," 
 she said. 
 
 -' And when you have thought, what are you going to do ? " 
 said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " Send you, very likely. Yes, you can smoke." 
 
 It was delightful to know that this imposing person could be 
 sent messages by her, and that he would put out his cigai-ette 
 if she wished ; it even gave her a certain satisfaction to see 
 him raise his hat to her. 
 
 Sir Nicholas leaned his elbows on the wall beside her, and 
 looked at her. 
 
 "I don't think it will rain," he said, "but I'll go if you 
 like " — this without any very great alacrity. " Wliat I want to 
 know is, where are you taking that neat little basket to ? " 
 
 "lam going," said Joanna, "first to take the jelly in this 
 basket to Mrs. O'Brien, who is ill ; then I am going on to the 
 dressmaker's, and then to the post-oflBce to put in ten shillings 
 bee-money. If you want to come, you must put your hat 
 straight and contrive to look rather less almighty." 
 
 " I never was so brow-beaten as I have been for the last 
 few weeks," said he mildly. "In spite of my unfortunate 
 manner, and the peculiar formation of my head, which is not 
 my fault, I assure you I feel a perfect worm." 
 
 He looked extremely well satisfied with himself nevertheless, 
 as he lounged there beside Joanna ; and to be satisfied with. 
 himself was absolutely necessary to Sir Nicholas' happiness. 
 His conceit was not of the contented, assured kind, but of a 
 very thin-skinned description — it was easily flattered, but at 
 the same time easily injured. There were times when he 
 thought himself a very fine fellow, and others when he was 
 ready to believe himself a scoundrel; and the admiration or 
 contempt of the person he happened to be with, even were it 
 old Kelly, made aU the difference. He had dropped his best 
 
38 A SELF-DENTINQ OBBTNANCE. 
 
 friend at Eton, because he fancied tiie latter had discovered 
 the falsehood of some boyish boast. ■ , i , 
 
 Consequently, Joanna's admiration was pairticularly cheer- 
 ing just now. n ,1 
 
 "Look here," he said. " Do you think you could all come 
 over to tea on Monday ? That Miss Collard with the squint 
 says she wants to see my shanty, and the strawberries are 
 splendid." 
 
 " Oh," said Joanna, jumping down from the wall in her 
 excitement, "you do think of such delightful things! You 
 are not joking, are you? " 
 
 "Why in the world should I be joking? " said Sir Nicholas, 
 with a laugh. "Will Mrs. Conway come, do you think? If 
 so, I'll ask the Kellys to come over as well." 
 
 Joanna was very sure indeed that her mother would come 
 when she heard the Kellys and Collards had been invited, 
 and her excitement pleased and amused Sir Nicholas very 
 much. 
 
 " If you come, you must fight it out with old Kelly about 
 those bees," said Sir Nicholas. " I have done my best to obey 
 your orders, but he does not trouble to conceal his contempt 
 for my opinions. " 
 
 "I'll go over to-day, when we get back from the village," 
 said Joanna serenely; "and that reminds me, we had better 
 start. I do hope the dressmaker will have my dress finished 
 ^or Monday, don't you ? " 
 
 And then they started, to do all their errands, and end up 
 with going to Mrs. McCracken to beg for tea, an honor which 
 somewhat overwhelmed that worthy woman. 
 
 The Monday tea party got between Joanna and her rest; it 
 interfered with her carving and made her forget to send off 
 a batch of flowers at the right time ; it even spoiled her excel- 
 lent appetite. 
 
 Then a cloudy morning caused her agony; if it rained, 
 would they go? would Sir Nicholas expect them? 
 
 Mrs. Morris sagely suggested that it would be sufficiently 
 soon to decide that question when the rain began, and happily 
 fears proved unnecessary. 
 
 After dinner Joanna flew up to her room at once to dress, 
 and took longer about it than she had ever taken in her life. 
 She produced and tried on in turn every bit of finery she pos- 
 sessed, asked Mrs. Morris' advice till that lady declined to give 
 any more, and then had recourse to Polly, who was deeply 
 interested. 
 
 What was her horror when the mighty question was at last 
 decided, and she and Polly came downstairs together, to find 
 that Mrs. Conway had not even begun to get ready. Joanna 
 ventured on a remonstrance. 
 
A SMLF-DENTING OIWIJSAJSVE. aa 
 
 "Oh, mother," she said reproachfully, "Sir Nicholas said 
 we were to be early. " 
 
 And Mrs. Conway consented to be hurried with a meekness 
 that made her daughter quite anxious, and brought them to 
 the Lodge ever so long before anybody else. Polly went, by 
 special invitation, and Polly's mother, much against her will, 
 was left behind on Mrs. Conway's stern decree that they 
 would be too many. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was at his best in his own house; his manner, 
 even to Mrs. Conway, was absolutely free from affectation, 
 and he was very much at his ease and made everybody else 
 feel so, too. 
 
 Joanna was nervously anxious that things should go off well, 
 and felt deeply for Sir Nicholas, who was not at all anxious. 
 She saw with dismay the amount of cream everybody, includ- 
 ing the host, heaped on their strawberries ; for the coachman's 
 wife had come over to Cliff House that morning to ask if 
 there was any to spare, so Joanna knew that it was scarce. 
 She declared that she preferred her strawberries alone, which 
 was not true and was a sacrifice which always remained 
 unappreciated. When Miss CoUard asked for another cup of 
 tea and there was none, Joanna suffered, while Sir Nicholas 
 made a laughing apology, and rang the bell, and Miss Collard 
 did not mind in the least. 
 
 Mrs. Conway was very much on her dignity, and desperately 
 afraid of being slighted. The Collard and Kelly girls were a 
 good deal older than Joanna and knew each other well ; they 
 at once swept up Sir Nicholas and Mr. Jellett. 
 
 It was young Marcus Kelly who fraternised with Joanna, 
 insisted on her coming down to the river with him after tea, 
 and fishing with an old rod which he had unearthed. 
 
 The Kellys had lived in the South till within the last Jive 
 or six years, and this youth had brought from there a quite 
 remarkable Irish accent, and a capability for half accidental, 
 half intentional, bulls which delighted Joanna. Besides he 
 was rather an interesting person ; he had been on the car with 
 his father when the latter was shot by moonlighters in '84 ; 
 she had heard tales of his boyish pluck when the house was 
 afterward boycotted ; she was consequently prepared to like 
 him, even when she discovered him to be a tall, red-haired 
 youth of about her own age, with nothing at all heroic 
 about him. 
 
 " No," said Joanna, " I have never been to London, or out 
 of Ireland at all." 
 
 They were sitting on the grass by the river, and Polly, who 
 had been very shy and glued to Joanna's side all afternoon, 
 was now contentedly fighting " cocks," one hand against the 
 other. 
 
40 A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "It's so odd not to have been to London," said Marcus 
 Kelly. "Not that it's a place I care for, but I mean to have a 
 good time when I go there in September for my exam." 
 
 Then he disclosed that he was at Pritchard's cramming for 
 the army. 
 
 "Not the Guards?" said Joanna, thinking of Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "Well, hardly— worse luckl" said young Kelly, with a 
 laugh. "Osborne is in the Guards, isn't he? " 
 
 "No, he has left," said Joanna. 
 
 " Fourteen heads off," said Polly, in a low voice. 
 
 "You bloodthirsty young person!" said Marcus Kelly, 
 "Miss Conway, I challenge you to battle. I will even give 
 you that extremely stalwart cock for your champion, and I 
 will content myself with this one, which is drooping and 
 faded." 
 
 "How shabby!" said Joanna indignantly; "you know the 
 bending ones are the hardest to behead." 
 
 And much to Polly's delight, in this interesting occupation 
 the fishing-rod was forgotten; after which they blew the 
 fluffy heads of dandelions to see if it was time to go in, and 
 were exceedingly silly and enjoyed themselves extremely. 
 
 Joanna's reception on her return was a decidedly cool one; 
 her mother was annoyed with her for going off with a penni- 
 less younger son and leaving Sir Nicholas to the others, and 
 Sir Nicholas was annoyed, he did not exactly know why; but 
 he had a sort of feeling that she ought to have sat still, 
 patiently waiting till he was quite ready to talk to her. 
 
 Joanna, however, was too entirely pleased with her after- 
 noon to be easily subdued. 
 
 " Well, you are in a sweet temper," she said gaily, when 
 Sir Nicholas bid them a dignified farewell at his gate. 
 
 "I b-beg your pardon? " said he, in his grandest tone. 
 
 But Joanna only laughed, and ran after her mother. 
 
 "Joanna," said Mrs. Conway, "did you remark that Mrs. 
 CoUard scarcely touched my hand in saying good-bye? " 
 
 "I can't say I di3," said Joanna. 
 
 " And those Kelly girls — they might have troubled them- 
 selves to speak to me a little civilly; but no — they were think- 
 ing of nothing or nobody but Sir Nicholas, and treated me as 
 the dirt beneath their feet." 
 
 Joanna had heard too much of this kind of thing to be much 
 impressed. 
 
 " I suppose they thought you had Mrs. Collard to talk to," 
 she said cheerfully ; " as for me, I had a delightful after- 
 noon." 
 
 "As for you," said Mrs. Conway, suddenly turning her 
 attention to her offending daughter, "as for you, Joanna, I 
 can only say that I am ashamed of you." 
 
"Ashamed of mel" repeated Joanna, in the extremity of 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Oblige me by not repeating my words," said her mother. 
 "After all the care and trouble I have given to bringing you 
 up ; all the pains I have taken to make you a modest, Christian 
 girl " 
 
 Joanna looked utterly bewildered. 
 
 " You know perfectly well what I am alluding to, Joanna, 
 and I will not have you look at me in that impertinent way. 
 I might have known what your neglect of your duties, your 
 ceasing to care for good works, your love for dress would lead 
 to!" 
 
 " Mother, what have I done ? " said Joanna, in a low voice, 
 holding Polly's little hand tightly. 
 
 " You ask me what you have done? After you have 
 wandered ofS and been hours alone with a young man, till 
 everybody wondered what had become of you, and I blushed 
 for you. I tell you it was improper, immodest, unladylike, 
 unwomanly!" 
 
 Joanna grew crimson to the roots of her hair. 
 
 "I don't know what the Collards, what Sir Nicholas can 
 have thought of you," pursued Mrs. Conway. 
 
 "But, mother," said Joanna, "I have been with Sir 
 Nicholas " 
 
 " Don't dare to answer me, Joanna! Go to your room at 
 once. I will go to mine and pray for you." 
 
 Joanna rushed into the house and up to her room like a 
 whirlwind. 
 
 Was it true? was it true? she wondered. Had she been im- 
 proper, unwomanly, immodest, and all without knowing it? 
 In the first moment she felt as if it must all be true ; as if she 
 must be indeed a girl too evil for this world, since she had 
 done these terrible things without even being conscious of her 
 guilt. She felt herself disgraced forever, and as if she could 
 never bear to face anybody again. 
 
 Immodest — and yet surely her mother must know — surely 
 this was the reason of Sir Nicholas' coldness — he knew she 
 had disgraced herself. 
 
 Then all at once the memory of Sir Nicholas recalled to her 
 the fact that she had been again and again alone with him, 
 with her mother's knowledge, and her strong common sense 
 began to come to her rescue. She had learned long ago that 
 what her mother said in anger was not to be relied on as 
 strictly true, and that she had some very odd ideas which 
 neither Joanna nor anyone else agreed with. She did not 
 argue or think about it, she simply felt it ; she did not blame 
 her mother, she looked upon it as a matter of course and a 
 law of nature. Still, if it was proper for her to be alone with 
 
42 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Sir Nicholas, it could not be so very immodest for her to sit 
 for an hour by the river with Marcus Kelly and Polly. 
 
 But all the same the words rankled m her mmd and were 
 not to be forgotten. Never again could Joanna feel quite the 
 same half childish ease and unconscious friendliness in her 
 companionship with men. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Ce n'eat point par effort qu'on aime, 
 L'amoiir est jaloux de ses droits, 
 II ue depend que de Ini-mgme. 
 On ne I'obtient que par son choix. 
 Tout reoonnait sa loi supreme, 
 Lui seul ne couuSiit point de lois." 
 
 The next day Joanna and Sir Nicholas were reconciled. 
 
 She and Polly met him, as they came out of the avenue 
 gate, with bundles of orange lilies in tlieir arms. 
 
 He had never seen her look so nearly pretty as when she 
 stood waiting a minute till he came up, with a watery gleam 
 of sunshine on her wavy hair, and for the first time a slight 
 blush. 
 
 "Well," she said, with a flippancy which was a little ner- 
 vous, " I hope you feel better this morning ? " 
 
 But it was not for Sir Nicholas' dignity to acknowledge that 
 Joanna had offended him. 
 
 "You have a vivid imagination," he said. "Where are 
 you going to ? " 
 
 "To the village; I promised Mrs. McCracken these lilies; 
 you know to-morrow will be the 13th." 
 
 "Don't go to the village," said Sir Nicholas; "it's simply 
 lovely by the river just now. Look here, Polly ; you won't 
 mind running down with these flowers by yourself ? " 
 
 "N-no," said Polly, who liked going to the river as well 
 as anybody. 
 
 " dh, I don't know," said Joanna, " whether I ought to go. 
 No, I think I had better go on with Polly." 
 
 It was almost the first time she had opposed any suggestion 
 of his, and he stared at her. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he said. "Why in the world 
 shouldn't you go? Besides, are you aware that you left a most 
 valuable rod of mine there yesterday afternoon, and I want 
 you to point out where it is ? " 
 
 " Oh, how stupid of us ! " said Joanna, in dismay. 
 
 She gave her lilies to Polly, and turned obediently, but 
 after a few steps she paused. 
 
 "Sir Nicholas," she said, "I want to ask you something, 
 
-J-'.iJ/J.T i iJ-T V^ \^J.I/.t^J.U.l ^A.U.1 V-'XV. 
 
 E lease. I don't know myself, because I have always lived 
 ere and seen nobody, but will you tell me, is it wrong for me 
 to go about with you like this ? " 
 
 He was very much astonished. 
 
 "Why, Miss C-Con way ?"hesaid, his stammer very decided. 
 
 " If you please, tell me exactly," said Joanna earnestly. 
 
 " There is no harm— certainly no harm," he said; "espe- 
 cially as there is nobody here to t-talk. That is to say, it would 
 not do with everybody, you know ; but as we are friends — no, 
 I am sure it is all right. Miss Conway." 
 
 " I am very glad," said Joanna frankly. " I could not have 
 borne you to think — that is, I hope you don't think me very 
 silly now?" 
 
 They had crossed the meadow by this time and were getting 
 near the river. There were haymakers in the field behind 
 them, but now they were alone, except for half a dozen young 
 cattle that were grazing near. 
 
 "I think you— a very sweet girl," said Sir Nicholas, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 He did not know what was the matter with him; he had 
 never felt inclined to say such things to her before. As 
 for Joanna, she felt " thrilled " — and liked it very much 
 indeed. 
 
 It was extremely delightful by the river, even though it 
 rained a little at intervals of a few minutes, and though it was 
 rather cold, and Joanna's feet were wet. Something very odd 
 seemed to have come to them both, and they talked so little 
 that Joanna made a serious apology. 
 
 " We generally have such a lot to talk about," she said. ' ' I 
 don't know what it is, or which of us is stupid." 
 
 " We know each other well enough now to be silent if we 
 like, don't we?" said Sir Nicholas, moving a little nearer to 
 her on the damp tree-trunk which they had chosen for a seat. 
 
 "And you are sure it doesn't bore you ? " said Joanna, half 
 in good faith. 
 
 "Bore me ?" said Sir Nicholas. "I would rather sit here 
 with you than with anyone in— in Ireland." 
 
 Which was quite true. 
 
 He took Joanna's little brown hand, which had been 
 gathering orange lilies and was not over clean, and kissed it 
 several times, and she felt as if she were in a dream. 
 
 She was delighted, flattered, bewildered, and her: "You 
 must not touch me. Sir Nicholas," in a tone of would-be 
 offence, would not have deceived little Polly 
 
 When they parted at Cliff House, they had mutually spent 
 a vei-y satisfactory afternoon. 
 
 "What are you going to do to-morrow? " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "To-morrow is the 13th," said Joanna. "The procession 
 
44 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 -will inarch up here in the morning; will you come and 
 see it?" . , . 
 
 "Will you come to the river with me in the afternoon? 
 said he. 
 
 " Perliaps — we shall see," said Joanna. 
 
 Sir Nicholas walked back to the Lodge, a little perplexed by 
 his afternoon. Till to-day it had never occurred to him, as 
 possible that Joanna was in the least likely to be dangerous to 
 Iiim. He had feared for her peace, and been very careful 
 only to be friendly ; but that a little country schoolgirl, the 
 daughter of his solicitor, with an appallingly common mother, 
 could possibly affect him in any way had never entered his 
 head. Besides, was he not entirely devoted to Lady Florence 
 Delacque, who was anything but a schoolgirl? 
 
 But Lady Florence with much wisdom had declined to allow 
 him to write, and somehow his life seemed so utterly different. 
 
 He tried to get up an enthusiasm by the i-emembrance of 
 Lady Florence's eyes, and when he got back to the Lodge he 
 took out her photograph and studied it; but Joanna's face, 
 which was not even pretty, got between him and it, and the 
 touch of her fingers, and the remembrance of how close she 
 had been to him for a moment or two when he had helped her 
 over the meadow stile. 
 
 All very nice and idyllic and suitable to the first love of a 
 boy of nineteen, he said to himself impatiently. 
 
 Whatever Sir Nicholas Osborne's detractors might say, he 
 did sometimes think; and the result of his reflections upon 
 this occasion was that he did not turn up next day to watch 
 the Orangemen or take Joanna to the river. 
 
 The pi'ocession with its gorgeous lodge-masters and porten- 
 teous flags marched up to Cliff House door, where everybody 
 assembled on the steps to bow, and Mr. Conway put on his 
 hat for the express purpose of taking it off to the flags and 
 having them lowered in his honour. The "Protestant Boys " 
 was performed with much effect as to drums, and smothered 
 attempts to be heard on the part of the cornets, and then 
 everybody filed off in the direction of the Lodge ; but still there 
 was no Sir Nicholas. Joanna and Polly even went down to 
 the avenue gate to see the gaily dressed womenkind, and an 
 occasional straggler with a gay scarf, who had already found 
 his way to a public-house or been detained by the charms of 
 some fair maiden. 
 
 Presently they returned unescorted, but Joanna was quite 
 untroubled ; she was confident Sir Nicholas would turn up in 
 the afternoon, and just at present she was very busy over- 
 seeing the digging of potatoes in her own particular field. 
 Richard O'Brien, being a Roman Catholic, was working con- 
 siderably harder than usual to mark his disdain of the day. 
 
 \ 
 
A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 45 
 
 After dinner Joanna told Mrs. Morris that Sir Nicholas was 
 going to the river with her, and seated herself in the window 
 of her own room to watch for him. She was iu her own room 
 still when her sister came back from a visit to the Chesters. 
 
 "What, Joanna," she said, "are you back from the river 
 so soon?" 
 
 "I didn't go after all,'' said Joanna, with a fine affectation 
 of carelessness, ' ' and I have been too lazy to go out ; so I think 
 I will just run down to McCracken's now for some shoe-laces ; 
 I shall have time before supper. " 
 
 " I don't advise you to go just now," said Mrs. Morris; "the 
 procession has got back, and I met Roddy, looking more than 
 cheerful. Mrs. McCracken wouldn't like you to go, she is so 
 proud of Eoddy's steadiness. So the great Sir Nicholas did 
 not deign to come over this afternoon? " 
 
 " He couldn't come, and it would have been a horrid day 
 for the river," said Joanna, with dignity. 
 
 "I can tell you one thing, Joanna ; you are making it much 
 too easy for that young man. It would be rather better if you 
 left the running after to him," said Mrs. Morris. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Joanna roughly. 
 
 "My dear child, when you shout like that your voice goes 
 through my head," said Mrs. Morris plaintively. " I am fear- 
 fully tired and I know I walked too far; I felt quite faint in 
 the street just now; didn't I, Polly? " 
 
 Joanna said "Nonsense," but she was very much hurt all 
 the same. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " You lore this man; I've watched yon when he came, 
 And when he went, and when we've talked of liim ; 
 I am not old for nothing ; I can tell 
 The weather signs of love ; you love this man! " 
 
 "Mrs. McCraoken, Ihope you have got some shoe-laces; 
 mine are a perfect disgrace," said Joanna ; "this one is knotted 
 in three places." 
 
 "I haven't got any silk ones, Miss Joanna; Miss Chester 
 got the last." 
 
 " Anything will do," said Joanna, and then the conversation 
 floated to new potatoes, in which she was particularly interested, 
 and by an abrupt transition to Sir Nicholas Osborne. 
 
 " Has Sir Nicholas gone for good or only for a while. Miss 
 
 Joanna? " said Mrs, McCracken, as she twisted the laces up into 
 
 a neat little parcel. ' ' I saw him drive past on the car " — every 
 
 kind of vehicle was a car to her, from Sir Nicholas' high dog- 
 
 4 
 
46 A 8ELF-DENTIN0 OBDINANCE. 
 
 cart to the butcher's spring-cart— " yesterday it was, before 
 the drums got back. " ,,xti ,11 
 
 ' ' Gone ! " said Joanna rather breathlessly. I didn t know 
 he had gone." . . , 
 
 "Well, I am surprised at that, and you so great with 
 him," said Mrs. McCracken. " You might have knocked me 
 down with your thumbnail the day you brought him in here 
 for a cup of tea. I was that ashamed I didn't know where. to 
 look; but he is a very nice, pleasant-spoken gentleman, for all 
 that he is, as you might say, the height of the quality. Mrs. 
 Moore was in the other day and saying to me what a nice pair 
 you would make, and indeed. Miss Joanna, it's I that would 
 come to your wedding with a light heart." 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't talk about such absurd things, please," 
 said Joanna, turning very red. " Tell me about Mr. Jellett; is 
 he a good lodger ? " 
 
 " He's not ill to please. Miss Joanna,'' said Mrs. McCracken, 
 turning suddenly grave, "and he's got a pretty face and a 
 nice way of speaking to you, but I can't say that I'm quite 
 well pleased. I don't hold to his new-fangled ways, and the 
 Greek and Latin books. I thank God the Bible in its original 
 English has always been enough for me as it was for those 
 beforeme. I call the way he has been going on nothing less 
 than popery, with crosses up in his bedroom that it goes to 
 my heart to dust, and never a word of hell or the devil in his 
 sermons." 
 
 ' ' I am sorry, " said Joanna, who had not heard one single 
 word, but was vaguely aware that something was wrong. 
 
 And then she made her escape. 
 
 Ten days later Mrs. Conway picked up an old hat of Joanna's 
 which she found in the hall, and which did not suit even its 
 owner, and made Mrs. Conway's long face look ghastly, and 
 walked out to the garden, where she found her husband mak- 
 ing a tour of inspection. 
 
 " John," she said, " I want to speak to you about Joanna." 
 
 "Well, whatis the matter ? " said Mr. Conway, withoutany 
 overwhelming anxiety. "Don't you call those remarkably 
 fine peas, Marion ? 
 
 But Mrs. Conway was not thinking about peas. 
 
 "Can you tell when Sir Nicholas is coming back?" she 
 said. 
 
 "I am sure I haven't the slightest idea," said Mr. Conway, 
 leisurely gathering a pod and opening it. ' ' All well filled, you 
 see, Marion." 
 
 " I am not at all surprised to find that you value your peas 
 more than your daughter's peace and happiness," said Mrs. 
 Conway severely. 
 
 ' ' Her peace and happiness ? Pray be a little more lucid. " 
 
A SELF-DENTINa ORDINANCE. 47 
 
 "Have you got eyes, John, or have you not ? Haven't you 
 remarked how Sir Nicholas was always coming over here and 
 goin^ about with Joanna ? " 
 
 "You know I remarked it, " said Mr. Conway, "as I told 
 you you had better put a stop to it." 
 
 " Well, you have remarked how he ran after Joanna; and 
 now he has gone away without a word." 
 
 "I must say, I always thought you and Joanna ran after 
 him" said Mr. Conway, " but you are quite right to put it the 
 otlier way — it sounds better. Did you ever see anything like 
 the way the snails have got among those strawberries? I must 
 have something done." 
 
 " You must have something done about Sir Nicholas,'' said 
 Mi-s. Conway, restraining her indignation with an effort. "I 
 am not going to have my daughter made miserable and the 
 talk of the country." 
 
 " You should have thought of that a little sooner," said her 
 husband. 
 
 " Somebody must write to Sir Nicholas." 
 
 " That somebody won't be me," said Mr. Conway with great 
 decision. 
 
 Joanna was miserable enough, and he had noticed her want 
 of spirits, which slie thought was completely hidden. The 
 return to absolute flatness and dulness, with nothing to look 
 forward to, seemed worse than ever now ; and it was a very 
 long time since she had last seen Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " It won't be you, either," said Mr. Conway, after a pause. 
 " I am not going to force any man to marry my daughter. I 
 am sorry for Joanna, but she must have a little common sense. 
 A young man like Sir Nicholas Osborne isn't likely to want 
 to marry a country attorney's daughter. " 
 
 " You know I hate you to call yourself an attorney," said 
 Mrs. Conway. "Well, since your daughter's happiness is 
 absolutely nothing to you, I can say no more." 
 
 And much to her husband's relief she made a retreat, the 
 dignity of which was spoiled by Joanna's straw hat, which had 
 unconsciously got to quite a jaunty angle. 
 
 Mr. Conway thought a good deal about Joanna after this; 
 he was very fond of her, and when she said she was not 
 hungry, and refused new potatoes at dinner, he began to think 
 something must be seriously wrong, and roused himself to 
 insist on her going round the farm with him in the afternoon ; 
 but there was a decided diminution of her interest in mangel- 
 wurzels and reaping machines. 
 
 He was thinking about her rather uncomfortably next morn- 
 ing, as he walked down to his office, when he suddenly ieard 
 flying feet behind him, and she joined him, breathless and 
 
48 A 8ELF-DENTmG ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Oh, father! " she gasped, " oh, father! " 
 
 " My dear child, you must not run down the street like a 
 madwoman and without your hat," said Mr. Conway, looking 
 at her. " Come into the oflBce." 
 
 " I ran all the way from the house," said Joanna. " Mother 
 was putting on her things, and I was so afraid she would get 
 here first." 
 
 Mr. Conway drew her into his private room, and shut the 
 door. 
 
 He could not imagine what was the matter, and was rather 
 alarmed. Had Sir Nicholas suddenly returned or announced 
 that he never would ? 
 
 "What is it?" he said. 
 
 " Oh, I know it will be no use! " said Joanna despairingly, 
 ^'but, father, I shall never ask you for anything again— it 
 would make me completely, absolutely happy, and it won't 
 cost anything — I will pay for my clothes myself." 
 
 Had she already begun to consider her trousseau ? That 
 seemed undoubtedly quick work. 
 
 ' ' Tell me what it is all about, " said Mr. Conway. ' ' Perhaps 
 I shan't object to its costing me a little." 
 
 ' ' There might be a chance if it was only you ! " said Joanna, 
 nervously making circles on the tablecloth; "but mother 
 will never consent, I know ; and, father, I can't bear it if she 
 doesn't 1 " 
 
 Mr. Conway was beginning to get quite excited. 
 
 "Would you be surprised to hear that your mother was 
 quite willing 5 " he said. 
 
 "Oh, no, it can't be possible!" said Joanna. "No," with 
 lier sudden gleam of hope fading, "you have not seen her 
 since." 
 
 "Tell me what you are talking about at once," said Mr. 
 Conway. 
 
 Joanna should certainly have a reasonable trousseau, and 
 Mr. Conway might possibly be the better of the connection in 
 a business way; Sir Nicholas' brother-in-law, Lord Meredyth, 
 had a good deal of Irish property. 
 
 ' ' Immediately after you went, " said Joanna, in a tragic tone, 
 " the post came. I wasn't expecting or thinking of anything, 
 and I am quite sure it is all Marcus Kelly's doing, for such 
 a thing never happened before." 
 
 This speech entirely bewildered Mr. Conway, for he failed 
 to see how Marcus Kelly could possibly be concerned, and 
 the conclusion of Joanna's sentence seemed odd. 
 
 " The letter was to mother," said Joanna, with deep anxiety 
 in her brown eyes, "and I should not have known anything 
 about it, if there had not been a printed card as well, which 
 faH out on to the table." 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 49 
 
 " A printed card ? " repeated Mr. Conway. 
 
 " Yes, father, with my name on it, too," said Joanna, " and 
 neither of us said anything about it ; but I just ran straight 
 out of the house, and over to you to see you before mother did, 
 and to beg and pray you on my knees to consent 1 " This was a 
 figure of speech, as Joanna did not go on her knees. 
 
 "Will you oblige me by telling me in plain English what 
 all this is about ? " said Mr. Conway. 
 
 "I know mother thinks it is wrong," said Joanna, "but I 
 shall never want anything so much in my life again. Father, 
 it is a dance that the Kellys are giving; and I beg and pray 
 and implore of you to say I may go." 
 
 Mr. Conway's face grew very blank indeed. 
 
 Joanna noticed it with a sinking heart. 
 
 " I will never bother you about anything again," she begged 
 piteously. "I will be quite content here, and not grumble 
 about sewing meetings. I can buy my own dress, father; I 
 have got more than thirteen pounds. Please, please, don't 
 say no ! " 
 
 "Pooh! I thought you were a sensible girl," said Mr. Con- 
 way, in disgust. "All this fuss about a dance 1 You know 
 your mother doesn't approve." 
 
 " Oh, father, you won't say no — you aren't going to say 
 no ? " said Joanna, in despair. 
 
 And Mr. Conway, who was naturally good-natured, ended 
 by yielding, to her ecstatic joy. 
 
 She went out to the post-ofiftce to set on foot preliminaries for 
 getting out her money at once; what matter that it had been 
 originally intended for a very different purpose? Joanna 
 was fully convinced she should never want it again so much. 
 Till the evening she lived in a dream of bliss, and then came 
 direst disappointment. 
 
 "What is all this absurdity about your wanting to go to 
 this dance, Joanna ? " said her mother. 
 
 ' ' Oh, mother ! " said Joanna. 
 
 " You know how strongly I disapprove of light amusements of 
 the kind which draw your thoughts away from higher things," 
 said her mother; "and younever said a word to me about want- 
 ing to go, in the m^orning, so, as a matter of course " 
 
 Joanna gasped. 
 
 " As a matter of course I wrote a refusal for us both at once," 
 said Mrs. Conway. 
 
 " Oh, mother! " said Joanna suddenly bursting into tears, 
 " Oh, what shall I do ? Am I always never to go to any 
 place like other girls? Wouldn't you let me go ? Couldn't 
 you write and say that it was a mistake ? " 
 
 "Joanna, I am ashamed of you! " said her mother severely, 
 "after all the trouble I have taken to train you, to behave in 
 
50 A SELF-DENTINa ORDINANCE. 
 
 this chOdish manner. Go to your room, and pray for grace to 
 think less of the things of this world." 
 
 "I shall never forgive you— never! " said Joanna passion- 
 ately. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " He looted at her as a lover can, 
 
 She looked at him, as one who wakes — 
 The past was a sleep and her life began." 
 
 I 
 
 It must be acknowledged that for the rest of the week 
 Joanna's temper was not at its best. As Polly said, she 
 "flounced" about the house and looked gloomy and ill- 
 used. 
 
 She could have borne it, she thought, if her hopes had not 
 been raised so high ; if for one whole day she had not believed 
 that all was going well. 
 
 Nobody except Polly sympathised. 
 
 Mr. Conway remarked dryly to his wife that he did not 
 think the state of Joanna's affections need give rise to 
 anxiety, and Mrs. Conway replied that till now she had not . 
 believed that her daughter was an absolute fool. 
 
 Mrs. Morris said wisely that as Joanna had never learned 
 to dance, she did not see that a ball would have been much 
 pleasure to her, to which Joanna replied passionately that she 
 would have practised night and day if she had been going. 
 
 Only Polly said nothing either about Sir Nicholas or the 
 dance. 
 
 On Monday there was a school-feast in the meadow behind 
 Oliff House, and Joanna, having enjoyed three days of gloom, 
 could not help cheering up a little. 
 
 Mr. Jellett was the giver of the festival, having been 
 informed that therein lay his duty, and with perhaps a faint 
 hope that it might bring him peace ; but Mrs. Conway, having 
 presented the meadow, where the hay had just been stacked, 
 took entire command. 
 
 There was a great cutting of currant loaves and bread and 
 jam in the morning, in which occupation Mr. Jellett and 
 Joanna were assisted by Miss Chester, who had come up 
 uninvited. 
 
 Mr. Jellett followed her about with eyes of intense admira- 
 tion, with the result of severely cutting his finger, and having 
 to be attended to and bound up. 
 
 "Joanna," said Miss Chester, "do you know, July though 
 it is, I am going to another dance next week ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so " said Joanna, and added rather sharply, 
 " I do wish you would try and cut that loaf more evenly." 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 51 
 
 "Have you heard about it ? " said Miss Chester. " You know 
 I can't cut bread, and this is very fresh. It is a dance at the 
 Kellys', and they are always jolly in that house." 
 
 " Do you know that they asked me ? " said Joanna. "Mr. 
 Jellett, please don't trouble to cut any more bread — you can't 
 with a couple of inches of rag round your finger." 
 
 "And they wouldn't let you go? What a shame,'' said 
 Miss Chester. ' ' Such a splendid house for a dance — you would 
 have loved it.'' 
 
 " Young Kelly told me the floor was not very good, when 
 he was over," said Joanna. 
 
 "No, the dancing room isn't much, but there are most 
 splendid places for sitting out. Oh, Mr. Jellett, I don't sup- 
 pose you approve of that. " 
 
 " Nor of dancing either," said Joanna. 
 
 "I don't see the slightest harm in dancing," said Mr. Jellett, 
 in surprise. "Mrs. Kelly very kindly asked me to go, but I 
 thought it was better not, under the circumstances." 
 
 "I should think so!" said Miss Chester, with a laugh. 
 "Joanna, I see your mother coming up from the meadow, 
 and I am off for the present ; I fear to see her face when this 
 loaf comes before her." 
 
 Miss Chester, whose assistance was always perfunctory, 
 vanished hastily. 
 
 " What a very charming girl she is!" said Mr. Jellett, with 
 a timid sigh. " She has been so very kind to me ; but really I 
 am afraid I shall not be able to stay here. Miss Conway ; it 
 is so impossible to please people. Did you remark that several 
 people walked out of church because I attempted to have a 
 hymn during collection ? " 
 
 Yes, Joanna had remarked it, and had heard a good deal 
 about it since, too. 
 
 " And I am afraid there will be trouble over the altar-cloth 
 that Miss Chester is so kindly working for me. Even to-day 
 I am afraid Miss Clarke is displeased about something." 
 
 " Miss Clarke and mother are always quarrelling," said 
 Joanna. " You can't possibly be at peace with both, and just 
 now my mother thinks you are perfection. " 
 
 " I am sure I am very glad she likes me," said Mr. Jellett 
 with a sigh, and so worked upon was he by Joanna's sym- 
 pathy, that before the bread-cutting was over he confessed to 
 her under his breath that he, too, would have liked to go to 
 this dance. 
 
 In the afternoon, as Joanna was busy laying tables and 
 forms under her mother's orders, she had a surprise. 
 
 She was on her knees on the grass counting mugs, with a 
 horrible fear that there were not enough, when a voice behind 
 her said : 
 
62 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Hallo I what festal arrangements are these ? " and turning 
 round, there stood Sir Nicholas, serene as ever. 
 
 Joanna had been rather oifended by his abrupt departure, 
 and had intended to greet him coldly, but every idea of the 
 kind flew out of her head at once. The flatness of the last 
 fortnight was over. 
 
 "Oh !" she said, jumping to her feet, "you have come 
 back again. What a long time you have been away ! " 
 
 "Exactly a fortnight," said he, "and I have got a new- 
 horse." 
 
 Joanna's flush and hasty greeting touched and flattered him. 
 
 "Are you glad to see me again ?" he said, in a low voice. 
 
 " People in Ballylone are glad to see anyone" said Joanna, 
 " But I haven't time to talk to you now. Won't you stay 
 and help — please ? " 
 
 And then what did it matter to her that the disagreements 
 and quarrels of the afternoon were innumerable; that Miss 
 Clarke unconcealedly rejoiced over a shortness of mugs, and 
 insisted on having a board brought to keep her feet from the 
 dampness of the meadow ? What matter that Mrs. Conway 
 declared tlie currant loaves which had been ordered by Miss 
 Clarke were poor and short of fruit ? or that Mrs. Moreland 
 considered that the way Mr. Jellett always managed to catch 
 Miss Chester when they played games was disgraceful ; also 
 the way in which Miss Chester caught Sir Nicholas ? What 
 matter even that Mr. Jellett was bewildered by a dozen dif- 
 ferent suggestions, and in the effort to please everybody suc- 
 ceeded in offending one and all ? 
 
 Joanna had her own share of selfishness, and Sir Nicholas 
 had never devoted himself so openly to her before. It almost 
 made her forget the dance. 
 
 As for Sir Nicholas, he meekly handed round buns and tea, 
 he even played games under protest, but as the crowd began 
 to thin he called Joanna aside. 
 
 "Look here," he said; " there are lots of people to attend 
 to this show, and I cannot stand Miss Chester, or play any 
 more rings. I have tried to start Aunt Sally under your 
 orders, but it doesn't seem to take, so please let me have my 
 reward." 
 
 His blue eyes were full upon Joanna's face. She looked 
 very fresh and young in her white dress, which was simple 
 and pretty, though it was made by a country dressmaker, and 
 had a streak of red currant jam down the front, of which she 
 was uncomfortably aware. 
 
 She had got thick shoes on, her hat was a broad threepenny 
 straw with a bow of Indian muslin, there were several large 
 freckles on her nose, and though running about had brought 
 her a pretty colour, she was not pretty. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 63 
 
 Sir Nicholas inwardly compared her to Lady Florence 
 Delacque as they walked across the meadow together. 
 
 Joanna got the garden key out of the hall, and they went 
 there, while he stroked his moustache, looked at her, and was 
 eloquently silent. 
 
 " Oh," said Joanna, "have you been asked to the Kellys' 
 dance ? " 
 
 It was not in the least what he had expected her to say, and 
 somehow rather jarred upon him. 
 
 He nodded, a habit of his which always annoyed Joanna. 
 
 " And are you going ? " she said breathlessly. 
 
 " I don't know ; I haven't answered yet, but I don't dance, 
 so I don't see much p-point in driving eight miles at night. 
 But I haven't come here to talk about the Kellys' dance, please, 
 Miss Conway." 
 
 "What shall we talk about then ?" said Joanna gaily ; 
 "beehives, and how I lost a swarm since you left ? " 
 
 Somehow or other she began to tell him about her projects, 
 about her carving, about her hopes of Loudon some day. 
 
 "I should like to be a famous, important person," she said, 
 " but of course there is no hope of that. If I was pretty, I 
 should marry some grand person, but as I can't do that it will 
 take longer." 
 
 " Who told you you were not pretty ? " said Sir Nicholas, 
 betaking himself to his moustache. 
 
 "My glass, my common sense, and my mother,'' said 
 Joanna. " I am obliged to 'believe them, though I would much 
 rather not." 
 
 " Will you believe me ? " said Sir Nicholas.. 
 
 '' Elizabeth has always impressed upon me never to believe 
 any man," said Joanna lightly. " Sir Nicholas, I have always 
 thought this was a largish seat, but there doesn't seem to be 
 room for two— thank you. Elizabeth says I shall never 
 marry because I am not pretty, and mother says I shall never 
 marry because I keep my room in such a state. Did you ever 
 hear it said that a man ought not to propose to a girl till he 
 has taken her into her room and made her find something in 
 the dark ? Now I can't find my things by daylight, and just 
 now my room is in a state to make an angel weep." 
 
 " It's a capital test — I should like to try it," said Sir Nicho- 
 las reflectively. 
 
 ' ' Aunt Joanna," said Polly, who had come softly across the 
 grass in her tennis shoes, " grandfather says they want you to 
 start a last game." 
 
 " Father ! " said Joanna, "why he is not in the meadow at 
 all ! " 
 
 " Bother ! " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "Don't you want to go back?'' said Polly anxiously. "I 
 
54 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 
 
 could slay instead of Aunt Joanna, if you liked, but I suppose 
 you would not care for that.'' 
 
 Sir Niciiolas did not go back to the meadow ; he said good- 
 bye to Polly and sauntered across to his own house. 
 
 Was he in love with Joanna or was he in love with Lady 
 Florence, or was he in love with both or neither ? For the 
 life of him he could not make up his mind. 
 
 His fortnight in Derry had bored him. He had knocked up 
 against a man he knew slightly, he had bought a horse, which 
 he could not afford, and played a little polo. Everybody was 
 glad to mount a crack player, but he was so much too good for 
 all the rest that he found the play dull. 
 
 He rode in some small local races and went out occasionally 
 to dinner, but he did not find it exhilarating. 
 
 His hotel bills were more than moderate, but when a man 
 with, for the time being, little over one hundred a year, 
 spends sixty pounds on a horse and forty-five on a polo-cart, 
 besides denying himself nothing, he is apt to find himself 
 rather hard put to it. 
 
 He was always given to talking big, and though there were 
 rumours that he had creditors innumerable to pay off, nobody 
 knew anything positive about it, and everybody considered 
 Sir Nicholas capable of attending to his own affairs. He 
 would have thrown away his last penny to gain admiration, 
 and it simply never occurred to him to do without anything 
 he wanted— if there was not money to pay for it, so much the 
 worse for somebody. 
 
 His riding was genuinely admired, and he had no doubt 
 that he could teach fellows in a line regiment a thing or two. 
 He even talked vaguely of inviting them down to Ballylone 
 for shooting, though there was nothing to shoot there but 
 cats and crows, and he gave them a big dinner the ni^ht he 
 left the hotel, which was a great success, and the bill for 
 which he requested to be sent to him at Ballylone. 
 
 He left an excellent impression behind him, was gratified, 
 and found himself absolutely beginning to forget the last 
 episode of his life in the Guards. 
 
 He thought of Lady Florence Delacque a good deal, and 
 considered himself a model of fidelity. Joanna was rather a 
 disturbing element. To do him justice he entirely recognized 
 the wrong he would do her by disturbing her unconsciousness, 
 if he meant to go no further ; but of late he had been seized 
 with a strong desire to say tender things to her, and he was 
 not accustomed to denying himself. Yet he was undoubtedly 
 in love with Lady Florence .; and could he have afforded to 
 marry, Joanna was still not the wife he would have chosen to 
 honour. 
 
 His mind was made up for him by chance. One evening 
 
A 8ELF-DENTma ORDINANCE. 55 
 
 after dinner he put on his hat and sauntered out in a rather 
 depressed frame of mind. He had just had a long letter from 
 his sister Lady Meredyth, the first since his arrival at Bally- 
 lone, and she had written of Ascot and the Derby and Lady 
 Florence Delacque, and wondered what had become of him, 
 and why he had left the Guards and buried himself alive. 
 
 " I suppose you'dine on potatoes and buttermilk, and swear 
 devotion to red cheeks and short petticoats," she said. "When 
 I asked Lady F. D. about you, she said her memory did not 
 go back so far. She was looking very well in spite of your 
 defection, and had Lord Gorsham entirely at her feet. If 
 you don't soon return to civilisation you will find yourself 
 very thoroughly replaced there." 
 
 Sir Nicholas pulled at his moustache till he hurt himself, 
 and knocked the heads of thistles off viciously with his stick 
 as he walked through his little plantation. 
 
 How could he go back to civilisation ? There were a thou- 
 sand reasons against it. 
 
 That very day last year he and Lady Florence and some 
 others had been spending a hot week on the Thames in a 
 house boat, and just about this time in the evening, when 
 the light was beginning to fade, he and she had strolled 
 ashore and had spent a long, happy hour under a haystack 
 like a couple of children, and she had been much softer than 
 ever before. 
 
 The smell of hay from the Conways' meadow came to him, 
 and he turned naturally in that direction. His mind was full 
 of Lady Florence, of her eyes, her lips, her voice, her close- 
 ness to him, and as he came to the meadow bank a dark figure 
 under a haystack made him start with a sudden ridiculous 
 hope. A moment after he swore softly to himself, with the 
 conviction of old Kelly or Richard O'Brien. 
 
 All the same he stopped and said: "Who is there?" in a 
 shaken voice. 
 
 " It is me — Joanna Conway."- 
 
 Sir Nicholas jumped over the bank with a sudden impulse. 
 
 "You!" he said, in a voice and with a look which only 
 Lady Florence had known ; " what are you doing here ? " 
 
 "I was cross," said Joanna, under her breath ; "I could 
 not stay in the house." 
 
 "I am so glad to have found you," said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 His tone frightened her. 
 
 " I had better go in," she said. 
 
 But the hay, the place, the remembrance of last year had 
 gone to Sir Nicholas' head. 
 
 "No, darling!'''' he said, and that was all Joanna ever 
 remembered of her first proposal. 
 
 She was frightened, bewildered, delightfully excited. 
 
56 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANVE. 
 
 He had ceased to distinguish between this year and last^ 
 between Lady Florence and Joanna. 
 
 "And to think," said Joanna, " that I was nearly ready to 
 cry about that dance when you came." 
 
 "You shall go to as many dances as you like some day," 
 said Sir Nicholas passionately. 
 
 "Tliey will let me do anything now, they will be so 
 pleased," she said. "I suppose it wouldn't do to make your 
 being engaged to me a condition of my being allowed to go to 
 this one? " 
 
 " I am afraid not," said he, in an odd tone. 
 
 " I suppose you are right," said Joanna, with a sigh. " You 
 can't think how funny I feel." 
 
 " Happy I hope, darling, darling,'''' he said. 
 
 "Happy? I feel delighted!" said Joanna; "it is the most 
 thrilling thing that ever happened to me." 
 
 But her heart was not touched. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " And Blie loves me ! this morning the earth pi'essetl beneath 
 Her light feet keeps the print. 'Twas no vision last uiglit, 
 For the lily she dropp'd as she went, is yet white 
 With the dew on it's delicate sheath ! " 
 
 Next morning they met in the meadow by appointment. 
 Joanna in her excitement had lain awake half the night, 
 thinking of this truly marvellous thing which had happened 
 to her, and Sir Nicholas, having utterly failed to make himself 
 or his feelings out, had ^iven up the attempt and gone to sleep. 
 
 "Good-morning," said Joanna. 
 
 Sir Nicholas raised his hat and said nothing ; he was much 
 given to eloquent silences. 
 
 " Isn't it a glorious day ? " she said rather nervously. " Do 
 you know I have been up since all hours, trying to prove the 
 advantages of a new churn to the cook." 
 
 " You are not absolutely punctual," said Sir Nicholas ; " I 
 have walked twice round the meadow, and counted six pieces 
 of currant bun and three sweets on the grass." 
 
 Joanna knew this ; she had watched him from her bedroom 
 window, held back, not by coquetry, but by a delightful kind 
 of shyness. 
 
 ' ' I didn't know there were still remnants of the school-feast," 
 she said. 
 
 A ridiculous idea came into her head that perhaps Sir 
 Nicholas had forgotten or repented of what he had said the 
 night before. 
 
A SELF-DENTING- OBBINANOE. 67 
 
 " Well, darling," he said suddenly, "you have not changed 
 your mind in the night ? " 
 
 She gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Come and sit under our own particular haystack again," 
 he said; " I want to talk to you before I go to your father. 
 What do you think he will say?" 
 
 " Oh, he'll be delighted, I am sure," said Joanna placidly, 
 " and what is more, so will my mother." 
 
 " You haven't told her yet, then, dear ? " 
 
 " No, I have told nobody but Elizabeth. We can sit here if 
 you like, of course, Sir Nicholas, but if they see us from tlie 
 potato field they may think it odd." 
 
 "What does it matter if they do ? " said Sir Nicholas. " It 
 matters a great deal more that you should not call me ' Sir ' 
 Nicliolas." 
 
 And then an interlude ensued, which amused and touched 
 Joanna, but which she honestly thought very silly. 
 
 " But my sweetheart," said Sir Nicholas, a little later, "I 
 dare say you don't know that I am a poor man — that I shall 
 have to work before we can marry. I am in debt, and I shall 
 have to ask you to wait a year or two. Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Not in the least," said Joanna, with a disconcerting prompt- 
 ness ; " it will be much nicer to be engaged for a bit." 
 
 "I shall always be a poor man, and there is the title to keep 
 up. Would you like us to emigi-ate and drop it ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Joanna, with great candour. 
 
 Sir Nicholas had not been more than one-third in earnest, 
 but nevertheless her extreme decision annoyed him. 
 
 " Joanna, you don't care for me," he said. 
 
 " N-no, I am afraid not, " said she, in a depressed tone ; "of 
 course if you think it better not, we need not go on being 
 engaged ; but if you will wait a little I promise I will." 
 
 " I will wait as long as you like," said he, "and I won't 
 bother you about it. I won't ask you again for a long time." 
 
 He did not — not till next time they met. 
 
 And then came great changes in Joanna's life. Everybody 
 congratulated her, everybody thought it an excellent thing 
 for her, and everybody thought well of Sir Nicholas. She 
 liked being a person of importance, she liked getting presents 
 fi'om Sir Nicholas ; she mightily enjoyed the whole matter. 
 Mr. Conway, to whom he had partly disclosed the state of 
 his finances, was not quite so well pleased. 
 
 Everybody thought Sir Nicholas was very generous, includ- 
 ing that young man himself, who filed the bills neatly, and 
 then felt quite under the impression that he had done all that 
 was necessary. 
 
 Joanna had a diamond ring and an opal ring with rubies, 
 and bangles and brooches innumerable, and at last spent a part 
 
58 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 
 
 of her much built upon bee-money in buying a pipe rack and 
 asli-stand for him, which she carved herself. People in love 
 were certainly remarkably odd, and scarcely a day passed that 
 her sense of humour did not tlireaten to become troublesome. 
 
 She had congratulations from everybody. 
 
 Miss Chester's were coupled witli a certain friendly sense of 
 envy. "Well, Joanna," she said, "so I hear you are going 
 to be married? " 
 
 " Oh, no! " said Joanna, with energy. 
 
 "Isn't it true? Aren't you engaged to Sir Nicholas Os- 
 borne ? " 
 
 "Oh, engaged!'''' said Joanna ; "yes. But, as for being 
 married, we are not thinking of that." 
 
 Then Polly came into her room mysteriously one evening, 
 and said: " Please, Aunt Joanna, I don't want to be inquisi- 
 tive, and don't tell me if you would rather not, but is Sir 
 Nicholas in love with you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Conway, on her part, showed quite a deference for her 
 daughter, and would even have forgiven her defection had 
 she attended no more Zenana meetings, but Joanna had be- 
 come a model of contentment, and went to them all. She 
 did not even grumble when Miss Chester's altar-cloth caused 
 quite a revolution in the church, and the Conways, with a 
 large assortment of other people, betook themselves to the 
 Presbyterian meeting-house. 
 
 She admired Sir Nicholas immensely: his handsome face, 
 his broad shoulders— above all, his riding. Joanna knew 
 nothing about horses, but she could see that his riding was 
 very different from the riding of anyone she knew. 
 
 Besides, Sir Nicholas' tales of his past nearly always re- 
 dounded to his credit, and while some of them were true, some 
 were only founded on fact. 
 
 Occasionally Joanna was inclined to think that his manner 
 was a little too condescending, and that he was a little too 
 much impressed with the idea that he was doing her an 
 honour; but this was not often. 
 
 Once she said half -laughingly : "After all, Nicholas, you 
 are not a prince of the blood royal " ; but he was so much hurt 
 at this that she apologised humbly. 
 
 So far as sentiments —and, indeed, intentions — went, Sir 
 Nicholas was a model young man ; and Joanna, being by no 
 means a model young woman, was sometimes rather depressed 
 by the distance between them. 
 
 One evening, after they had been engaged for about three 
 weeks, she came up to her sister's room in a very disturbed 
 state of mind. 
 
 Elizabeth was preparing to go to bed, and had got as far as 
 her dressing-gown, in which she was sitting by the window, 
 
A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 69 
 
 brushing out her hair, which was long and soft and wavy, 
 like Joanna's. 
 
 It was a hot day, and she had spent it on a sofa, reading 
 novels, and had just finished one now, over which she was 
 dreamily meditating. She was calm, tranquil, and ratlier 
 sleepy, and her sister's entrance was very upsetting. 
 
 Joanna came in with shining eyes and quivering lips, and a 
 restlessness all over her, banged the door in a manner wliicli 
 showed that the old Joanna was by no means dead, and, as 
 Elizabeth's dress filled the only other chair in the room, she sat 
 down upon the bed, drawing up her feet and leaning against 
 the wall in a manner which was comfortable, if not elegant. 
 
 "Do be careful, Joanna," said Elizabeth pettishly; "you 
 will make my bed all on one side. What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Elizabeth," said Joanna, " Nicholas is too good for me." 
 
 " There are very few men who are too good for any re- 
 spectable woman," said Elizabeth shortly. 
 
 " I know you always speak against men," said Joanna, 
 " and I dare say you have cause, but " 
 
 " Cause ! " cried Elizabeth ; "Joanna," — rapping vehemently 
 on the dressing-table with her hair brush to enforce her words, 
 — " take my advice: never trust a man, not even a good man 
 —and, by his eyes. Sir Nicholas is no saint." 
 
 " Of course he is no saint," said Joanna impatiently. " It 
 would be terribly dull to be engaged to a saint ; but I should 
 not be engaged to him at all if I did not believe I could trust 
 him entirely." 
 
 " Believe me," said Elizabeth, still impressive; " you know 
 nothing about men. Joanna, I don't want such a cruel thing 
 to happen to you as to me. Mother let me grow up— she saw 
 me married — without a word — I knew nothing. It was 
 wicked, and I can't tell you what I suffered when it all broke 
 upon me at once. I want to tell you — I think I ought to talk 
 to you " 
 
 "Please don't, Elizabeth," said Joanna, jumping up. 
 "Nicholas says what he likes about me is that I know 
 nothing." 
 
 "Oh, I dare say— very likely," said Elizabeth, beginning 
 to plait her hair. "But, take my advice, and don't trust 
 him ; he'll like you all the better for it." 
 
 Joanna might have been more impressed by her words had 
 she been less accustomed to her sister's opinion of men. 
 
 Sir Nicholas shot on the Collards' mountain for a week 
 after the 12th, during which he wrote to Joanna regularly. 
 
 To her, a little time to herself was a relief, to think over 
 things and realise them, as she could not do in a constant 
 state of excitement. And she was very, very glad to see him 
 when he came back. 
 
60 A 8ELF-BENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Times were decidedly changed for her. The Collards and 
 the Kellys very often asked her over for tennis, and Sir Nich- 
 olas talked of making a court at the Lodge, as it was hopeless 
 to expect that Mrs. Conway would consent to one. However, 
 even Joanna had by this time discovered that Sir Nicholas 
 talked of doing a great many things. 
 
 He set to work to teach her to ride on his second horse, in- 
 structions which were an agony to Joanna, who had never 
 mounted a horse before, and never driven anything larger 
 than a Shetland pony, 
 
 She was wretchedly, miserably nervous, thoTigh she did not 
 confess it, and he was rather annoyed that her progress was 
 not more rapid. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was decidedly popular in Ballylone. The 
 farmers and poor people liked him, admired his handsome 
 face and his readiness with a shilling. Mrs. Moreland, during 
 the one visit Joanna insisted that he should pay in her little 
 house off the street, was charmed with him ; though, between 
 his stutter and her deafness, she could not make out a word 
 he said. 
 
 Miss Clarke was delighted to find that he agreed with every- 
 thing she said, and would have been surprised if she liad 
 known that he had not listened to a word. Even Mrs. Con- 
 way, to whom he took more trouble to be civil, to a great 
 extent approved of him. People generally did like Sir 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Only Mrs. Chester was unfavourably impressed. 
 
 " I don't know how Joanna can stand that young fellow's 
 airs and graces," she said to her daughter ; '' a selfish, con- 
 ceited young man in my opinion, for all his good looks." 
 
 "Why, mamma," said Miss Chester,_ laughing, "if Z said 
 that, people would accuse me of being jealous." 
 
 But Joanna heard nothing but praise, and she was quite 
 happy. . . , 
 
 Sir Nicholas too was surprisingly, astonishingly content, 
 with an occasional day's shooting and Joanna's companionship. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "A man's character is like his shadow, which sometimes follows and 
 sometimes precedes him, and which is occasionally longer, and occasion- 
 ally shorter than he is." 
 
 In September a wonderful thing happened : Mrs. Conway 
 consented to allow Joanna to go to some country races about 
 eight miles off, under the Chesters' chaperonage. 
 
 Sir Nicholas had a great deal to do with getting the whole 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 61 
 
 thing up. He was riding his own horse in the steeple-chase, 
 and twice in flat races for the Collards, and he had declared 
 that Joanna must come. He declared it to Mrs. Conway her- 
 self, who considered racing an invention of the evil one, and 
 strange to say she gave way. 
 
 After which everything went right. Joanna had a dress 
 from Derry now which she wore on grand occasions, and Mi's. 
 Chester was the best of chaperons, and was quite content to 
 be deposited on a seat and left there. 
 
 Sir Nicholas being immensely happy was thoroughly ami- 
 able ; he told Joanna that he was proud of her ; he was very 
 attentive both to Mrs. Chester and to the Collards, who were 
 there in a body ; he even took the Collard girl with a squint, 
 who was sitting alone and looking bored, to the paddock, 
 which was a stretch on his part, as he disliked plain girls. 
 
 Nobody could deny that he looked uncommonly well when 
 he rode out of the paddock among the rest — black, pink 
 sleeves and cap. 
 
 He won the first race, was well placed in the second, and it 
 was not till the steeple-chase that the unpleasantness occurred 
 which spoiled the day for him. 
 
 He rode his own horse, a big handsome chestnut, a trifle liot- 
 tempered, wearing his own colours, blue, white cap, and he 
 beat his chief opponent, a young farmer who rode boldly, but 
 without much science, by a couple of lengths. 
 
 So far well. He had just got out of his riding kit, and gone 
 over to speak to Joanna and the Chesters, when his opponent 
 came hastily up to him with a flushed face. 
 
 " That race wasn't fair run. Sir Nicholas," he said. "Gentle- 
 man you may call yourself, but you can hardly deny that the 
 best horse didn't win." 
 
 Sir Nicholas drew himself up and stared. Something in 
 his contemptuous attitude goaded the man to passion. He 
 took a step forward. "It's not the first time," he said, " that 
 I have heard tell you were rather too sharp a customer to have 
 dealings with." 
 
 Sir Nicholas turned suddenly white. 
 
 "Come away, Lindsay, and hold your nonsense," said one 
 of the men round. 
 
 "It's fair play I like to see " began the man, but before 
 
 he had got any further he had measured his length on the 
 ground in front of the grand stand. By this time everybody 
 had collected round the group, and Mr. Collard bustled to the 
 front. 
 
 Lindsay got up, wiping the mud from his face, and evi- 
 dently considerably impressed. 
 
 " I dar' him to say that his is the best horse," he muttered 
 sulkily. 
 
 5 
 
62 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANOE. 
 
 " I don't," said Sir Nicholas calmly ; " I only say that I am 
 the better rider. You can neith er manage your liorse nor your 
 temper." 
 
 "He's right at that," said another man ; "come away, 
 Lindsay, you are only making a fool of yourself." 
 
 "What is all this nonsense about? " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "He's just put out at being beat, sir," said one. "He 
 says you crossed him at the last fence, but I was at the place 
 myself, and I can answer for it, it was a straight ridden 
 race." 
 
 Sir Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and turned to Joanna; 
 but the pleasure of the day was gone for him. He had ridden 
 the race straight and won it easily, but his past record was not 
 so absolutely clean that an attack of the kind could be a 
 matter of indifference to him. 
 
 Joanna, who had been frightened at the time, could not 
 understand why it weighed upon him so much, aud said so 
 when they left the Chesters, to walk up to Cliff House together. 
 
 "That's what comes of having anything to do with such 
 low hounds," he said. " Of course I don't like it — who would? 
 Joanna, you don't believe it ? " 
 
 "My dear Nicholas, what will you ask me next ?" said 
 Joanna, with a laugh. 
 
 "Of course it is absurd. Joanna, here we are in the lane, 
 and there isn't a soul about. Do sit down on the bank for a 
 bit, and talk to me. I am rather down on my luck." 
 
 "Well, I must say I think that is absurd," said Joanna; 
 "you can't really mind what a man like that says in a rage, 
 and you know very well that I would believe nothing any- 
 body could tell me against you." 
 
 " I am not such a good fellow as you think, darling," he 
 said, with some hesitation. " Joanna, will you always try to 
 remember the knock-about sort of life I have had? Tell me, 
 how much could you forgive me, little one ?" 
 
 "I could forgive you anything," said Joanna earnestly, 
 '' unless you were to stop caring for me." 
 
 " Anything ? " he said. " Even if what that fellow said had 
 been true " 
 
 "Oh, no, not that," she said; "because that— don't you 
 understand ? — it would change my idea of you altogether. It 
 wouldn't be you any more. I couldn't forgive anything 
 dishonourable." 
 
 "Ah," said Sir Nicholas, turning a little away from her. 
 For a moment he had felt almost as if he could tell her any- 
 thing and everything for the relief of getting it off his own 
 mind. He let her hand go, and began his old habit of twist- 
 ing his moustache. 
 
 "Are you vexed with me, dear, because I didn't say, I could 
 
A SELF-DENYINQ ORDINANCE. 63 
 
 forgive you anything ? " said Joanna. "But you see it is such 
 an impossible thing to happen." 
 
 " It's all right, darling," he said with an effort. "You are 
 perfectly right, only I could forgive you anything vrithout 
 any exceptions. You will never care for me as I do for you." 
 
 Sir Nicholas was very much in earnest. 
 
 "My sweetheart, you must be my good angel, my good 
 influence," he said. 
 
 " I will do my best to help you and be what you want," 
 said Joanna very gravely. 
 
 Then they walked soberly up to the house together. 
 
 On the spur of this Sir Nicholas actually roused himself to 
 write to his brother-in-law and ask if he could not get him 
 employment of some kind, but with the writing of the letter 
 his energy evaporated, and when he got a reply he never suc- 
 ceeded in writing again. 
 
 Lord Meredyth wrote, not unreasonably, for some further 
 explanation of his brother-in-law's wishes, and for informa- 
 tion as to his capabilities, but Sir Nicholas chose to be dis- 
 pleased at the letter. 
 
 " He has heaps of money, and could easily have offered me a 
 post somewhere if he had chosen to take the trouble, " he said. 
 
 But lucrative posts for a penniless young man of not unim- 
 peachable character, and with no training or capabilities for 
 anything in particular, are perhaps not exactly going 
 a-begging. 
 
 Sir Nicholas grumbled a great deal, talked a great deal, and 
 made fresh plans every day ; but he never got any further. 
 
 He grumbled at not being able to marry, and. then at Joanna 
 because she declined to be unhappy in consequence. 
 
 And in the long autumn days Joanna grew into a love 
 which was protecting as well as admiring. 
 
 "You are quite motherly to me," said he one day, laughing; 
 and it was true. 
 
 She made fun of his conceit; she excused his changes of 
 mood, his want of energy, and his selfishness, and wished that 
 everyone else should think him perfect. She admired his 
 riding, his handsome face, his good-nature, and many qualities 
 which existed only in her own mind, and would not have 
 exchanged him for anyone in the world. 
 
 Joanna had begun by being in love with love and excite- 
 ment: by the end of the autumn she was in love with her 
 lover. 
 
64 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Is all our fire of shipwreck wood, 
 Oak and pine? 
 
 Oh, for the ills half understood, 
 The dim, dead woe 
 Long ago 
 
 Befallen this bitter coast of France 1 
 Well, poor sailors took their chance, 
 I take mine." 
 
 It was a cold January day, and Joanna, who had been to 
 pay the Clarkes a visit, was making her way home as quickly 
 as she could, and trying to keep the end of her boa between 
 her face and the wind. The consequence was that she almost 
 collided with Sir Nicholas, who was coming round the corner 
 from the post-offlce. 
 
 " Well, you are in a hurry ! " he said. 
 
 " I am exceedingly cold," said Joanna briskly. "Come, let 
 us go round by the road and walk quickly. I have just been 
 to see the Clarkes, — you know mother and Miss Clarke have 
 been in a state of feud for the last fortnight, — and between the 
 coldness of Miss Clarke, and the coldness of her drawing-room, 
 I am nearly frozen. Nicliolas, can you believe it, she had got a 
 very pretty arrangement of moss and snowdrops in her grate." 
 
 "I told you that that brown cloak is not warm enough for 
 this weather," he said, 
 
 ' ' And I told you, my dear boy, that I would put a knitted 
 thing under it, but that in default of having any other I must 
 w^ear it." 
 
 "I wish," said Sir Nicholas, "that I had a right to attend 
 to your clothes, darling." 
 
 "I wish you had," agreed Joanna, who had heard the same 
 speech many times before ; " Nicholas dear, I do like that new 
 cap of yours, and I am glad to see it doesn't flab in your hand 
 when you take it off. Did you get any letters just now ? " 
 
 " Only an invitation from young Kemble to go up to Dub- 
 lin for some big dinners and dances." 
 
 "From young Kemble — that's the man who can break a 
 poker on his arm, isn't it ?" said Joanna, with interest. " Isn't 
 he in the something Lancers? Oh, Nicholas, you must go: 
 you might get some hunting. " 
 
 "I dare say some of the fellows would mount me," he 
 assented, ' ' but I don't think I shall go, darling ; where's the 
 money to come from ? " 
 
 "It wouldn't cost much," said Joanna sagely, "and you 
 really do deserve some fun— you haven't been away more 
 than a couple of days together all autumn." 
 
A SELF-DENYINQ OBDINAmiE, 65 
 
 Sir Nicholas took out the note and looked at it wistfully. 
 
 "I don't deny I should like to go, darling," he said—" that 
 is, if you wouldn't miud." 
 
 ''Mind! I should love it," said Joanna. " I should value 
 you twice as much when I got you back, dear, and besides I 
 should like to hear some news from the outer world." 
 
 "But there's this to be thought of, Joanna," he said, knock' 
 ing bits off the dry hedge with his stick as they passed; " It's 
 a rowdy sort of regiment, with a good deal of hard play. 
 Some of the fellows go in for baccarat and so on, and they 
 will expect me to play." 
 
 " Then they must just be disappointed," said Joanna calmly, 
 " I shall not be a bit afraid, darling. You shall promise me, 
 and you shall write to me every day and tell me what you are 
 doing. I should love you to have some really good hunting." 
 
 " I am not at all sure that I had not better keep clear of 
 that lot," said Sir Nicholas, with hesitation, but a very evident 
 desire to be persuaded. 
 
 "I am not a bit afraid," said Joanna, "I can trust you, 
 and I don't want you to stay in this place till you get tired or 
 me and it. Nicholas, there isn't a soul about, and I am so 
 cold ; race me to the avenue gate 3 " 
 
 Sir Nicholas went to Dublin. 
 
 Joauna took the greatest interest in his arrangements, his 
 packing, the clothes he should or should not take, and the 
 various tales of his exploits in the hunting field with which 
 he regaled her. 
 
 He went off in high delight, and having gone, he evidently 
 enjoyed himself, for he stayed away for nearly three weeks. 
 
 He wrote to Joanna,' long regular letters for the first ten 
 days, and she went about with a happy face, rather to the 
 scandal of the neighbourhood. 
 
 Miss Chester even said to her : " Why, Joanna, you look 
 as if you w^ere glad to get rid of Sir Nicholas. I expected to 
 see you in the depths of despair." 
 
 "That would be very absurd," said Joanna, laughing. 
 "Nicholas writes to me every day, and sometimes twice a 
 day, and he is having such a glorious time. He has had some 
 splendid days with the hounds." 
 
 " I wonder you approve of his having a glorious time with- 
 out you," said Miss Chester. 
 
 During the last week Sir Nicholas' letters became all at 
 once irregular, and dwindled into mere scraps, but Joanna 
 held her head high, told nobody when her visit to the post- 
 offlce was a failure, and declined to allow herself to be dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 He returned quite unexpectedly. 
 
66 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 He walked into the drawing-room one evening after dinner, 
 when Joanna was alone there, finishing her detested practis- 
 ing ia the cold, by the light of a solitary candle. The rest of 
 the family were economically sitting over the dining-room 
 fire. 
 
 " Ten minutes more," said Joanna to herself, with a sigh ; 
 and then, hearing the door open, she turned round and saw 
 her lover. 
 
 "Nicholas ! " she cried, jumping up. 
 
 He was excited, dusty, and not in evening dress. After the 
 first moment she noticed something amiss. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear ? " she said. 
 
 He took her suddenly and passionately in his arms. 
 
 "There's plenty the matter, darling," he said. "I have 
 lost a lot of money, and that's not the worst of it ; but, after 
 all, what do I care now ? " he said, with an excited laugh. 
 " Are you glad to see me again, darling ? You won't refuse 
 me anything this evening, will you ? " 
 
 " What is wrong, dear ? do tell me, ''said Joanna anxiously. 
 Sir Nicholas' whole manner was so strange, so different. 
 
 "Nothing at all, sweetheart, only I am a little excited 
 to-night. You must be good to me — I have been going it 
 rather strong the last two nights." 
 
 Joanna twisted herself out of his arms. 
 
 "Nicholas," she said piteously, "what do you mean? 
 You are so queer this evening." 
 
 He laughed again. 
 
 "Come here, darling," he said, with an odd look in his blue 
 eyes. " I have something to tell you that I can only whisper." 
 
 Joanna came obediently, but with rather hesitating foot- 
 steps. 
 
 Sir Nicholas di'ew her to him, and bent over her. 
 
 " Darling," he said in a solemn whisper, " never take your 
 liquors mixed — it's a great mistake." 
 
 Then he burst out laughing ; and Joanna, now thoroughly 
 frightened, struggled to free herself. Was he going mad ? 
 She would not allow another horrid suspicion to come into 
 her head. 
 
 " Let me go — let me go 1 " she begged. 
 
 "Very well, you shall go if you want," said Sir Nicholas, 
 releasing her. ' ' You are welcome to go " — in a shaken voice — 
 " if you don't care for me, if you are aren't willing to give up 
 anything for me. I did think you loved me." 
 
 " Oh, Nicholas, I do love you ! " said poor Joanna. 
 
 "You don't prove it very well," he said solemnly. 
 
 Only a sort of instinct kept Joanna rooted to her corner ; 
 he must know the difference between right and wrong better 
 than she, but still 
 
A SELF-BENTINO ORDINANCE. 67 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do ? " she cried. 
 
 " And you can't expect me to love a girl who does not trust 
 me," he said. He looked very handsome, very passionate, 
 very angry, standing a little way from her with folded arms. 
 
 "Oh, Nicholas 1 you do love me !" she said entreatingly. 
 
 "I am sorry to say I do," he answered sternly. "But not 
 as much as I did before — never as much again." 
 
 Joanna made a half movement toward him, then she sud- 
 denly shrank back and burst into tears. "Oh, I am so 
 miserable 1 " she said. "Oh, darling, pZease love me— it is not 
 my fault." 
 
 Sir Nicholas had never seen her cry before, and his offended 
 dignity vanished in a breath. 
 
 "You little goose!" he said, and held her to him with 
 passionate loving words. 
 
 " And you do forgive me ! " she said humbly. 
 
 " Of course I do, my own sweetheart, and of course you 
 are going to be good to me," he said, looking into her face 
 and speaking with quivering lips. 
 
 Was the whole thing to begin over again ? Never was 
 Joanna more thankful for her sister than when Mrs. Morris 
 opened the door just now and came in. 
 
 "Joanna, do you know that it is late?" she said. "Sir 
 Nicholas, my father says that if you feel inclined for a smoke, 
 he will be very glad if you will go to the dining-room." 
 
 The other two pulled themselves together with an eflFort, 
 and listened vaguely to a slight description of Mrs. Morris' 
 ailments. 
 
 But on the stairs going up to bed, she looked at Joanna and 
 said : 
 
 " What is the matter with that young man to-night ? " 
 
 "What should be the matter?" said Joanna snappishly; 
 and then she hurried off to her own room to be exceedingly 
 miserable. 
 
 She was disturbed ; her faith in Sir Nicholas was shaken ; she 
 did not know what had been the matter with her or with 
 him ; she was not even sure that she had been in the right. 
 Would he be more like his old self in the morning ? She felt 
 vaguely that something had been wrong with him that even- 
 ing. She wondered if he really meant that he would never 
 love her so much again, and if he had really doubted that she 
 cared for him. How much more patient he had been in the 
 days when she in truth did not care. 
 
 She had an idea that things would come right in the 
 morning. 
 
 Sir Nicholas came over at about eleven, when Joanna, under 
 Mrs. Conw^ay's superintendence, was hearing Polly's German 
 verbs, an occupation which was mutually detested. 
 
68 A BELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 He was vei-y grave, but gracious. Polly, knowing what 
 great latitude was permissible when he was there, jumped 
 down from her chair, and clambered on his knee, putting her 
 arms round his neck. 
 
 "I was awake when you came last night," she said, " and I 
 wanted mamma to bring you up." 
 
 " Don't throttle me, like a good child," he said. "Mrs. Con- 
 way, I have come to carry ofif Joanna, if I may ; I want to 
 talk to her." 
 
 "Well, I suppose she can go," said Mrs. Conway fairly 
 graciously, ' ' but I don't advise you to go out ; I am sure it is 
 going to snow." 
 
 "But you needn't imagine you are to escape. Miss Polly," 
 said Sir Nicholas ; "I shall expect to hear that verb this even- 
 ing, compound tenses and all." 
 
 "They are much the easiest, because they go with ' babe,'" 
 said Polly, unwillingly sliding down from Sir Nicholas' knee. 
 " Will you tell me a story after dinner ? " 
 
 "Perhaps, if you are very immaculate," said he. "Will 
 you come, Joanna ? " 
 
 "I shall look that out in the dictionary too," said Polly 
 indignantly, " so you will learn it is no use using big words 
 that I don't understand." 
 
 "Polly, don't be impertinent," said Mrs. Conway, and 
 Polly instantly subsided. 
 
 Sir Nicholas and Joanna walked gravely out into the hall. 
 
 "Come into the drawing-room," he said; "I have a lot to 
 say to you." 
 
 " There is no Are," said Joanna, hesitating. 
 
 " Get a shawl then, dear; I shall not be cold," he said. 
 
 He was on his knees lighting the fire when she came back, 
 with a recklessness of Mrs. Conway's feelings which alarmed 
 Joanna. 
 
 She laid her hand on his fair hair very gently, and then 
 stooped to kiss him. 
 
 "You have most undoubtedly been having your hair cut, 
 dear," she said. 
 
 " Don't you like it ? There, I think that fire will bum, and 
 my hands aren't particularly smutty, are they, little one ? " 
 
 He got up as he spoke, looking at Joanna very gravely. 
 
 "Come and sit by the fire," he said, wheeling in a chair, 
 " I am going to get a stool and to confess to you ; are you 
 going to forgive me, darling ? " 
 
 Joanna held his hand very tightly, but said nothing. 
 
 "Dear," he said, with his head turned away, "I hate to 
 speak to you about last night, but I must. Will you forgive 
 me ? I don't remember much that I said, but I know I was a 
 brute." 
 
A SELF.DEN71N9 OBDINANCB. 69 
 
 " Oh, no,'' said she softly. 
 
 "The fact of the matter is, I was excited, and I had had 
 quite as many whiskeys and sodas as were good for me, and I 
 was so cold when I got in that I took a couple of glasses of 
 wine on the top of that." 
 
 Joanna did not draw away her hand, hut she started and 
 shivered. 
 
 " You mustn't think that I drink," he said hastily. " Dar- 
 ling, I was worried and vexed. I wish you had not urged me 
 to go to Dublin." 
 
 " I am so sorry," said Joanna, in a low voice. 
 
 "I have lost nearly six hundred pounds. Two hundred 
 went in one morning over a horse of Kemble's I had backed 
 myself to ride against another man. Tlie brute had no mouth 
 whatever, and galloped straight out of the course." 
 
 "Six hundred pounds I " exclaimed Joanna, in utter dismay. 
 Such a sum seemed to her absolutely hopeless. 
 
 "Yes, and I broke my promise to you, and gambled ; that's 
 all I can tell you, but I did worse too, at least, what seems to 
 me worse." 
 
 " Six hundred pounds ! " repeated Joanna, "and where are 
 you to get it from ? " 
 
 "Igot itand paid it at once — they were debts of honour," he 
 explained. " I drew a check on Cox's, and they cashed it all 
 right, but they wrote to tell me that I have overdrawn 
 largely, and they can't do any more. When a fellow plays 
 perfectly straight it is rather hard luck to have everything 
 go dead against him." 
 
 He felt it rather hard that neither Joanna nor Providence 
 should give him any thanks for playing absolutely straight, 
 but as the idea of anything else never entered her head she 
 was naturally not very much impressed by this. 
 
 " Ai-e you angry with me, darling ? " he said ; "can't you 
 forgive me ? " 
 
 "I am very sorry,", said Joanna, thoughtfully smoothing 
 his already extremely smooth hair, " very, very sorry, dear ; 
 but there is no question of being angry or forgiving between 
 you and me : we must just think what is best to be done." 
 
 " I can never forgive myself for last night," he said. 
 
 " I wish I had understood ; I wish I had sent you away at 
 once," said Joanna. 
 
 "I wish you had, but more than all, I wish you had not 
 advised me to go to Dublin," he said, with a certain amount of 
 reproach in his tone. 
 
 "I am very sorry," said Joanna humbly. 
 
 Somehow or other she began to feel herself in the wrong. 
 
 " And look here, darling, I am going to write to Meredyth 
 this very minute, to say I will take anything,'''' said Sir 
 
70 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 Nicholas. " I can't do without my guardian angel any longer 
 than I can help, and I don't mind roughing it a bit for you. 
 Give me a kiss and see if you can get me a slieet of paper, and 
 an envelope, and a stamp, and you shall help me with the 
 letter." 
 
 Joanna got up, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him 
 gravely. 
 
 But she could not regain her spirits as he did. 
 
 Why had she not tried to understand him better, to be of 
 more use to him ? The trouble and shame had slipped lightly 
 from his shoulders to hers, and to her, with suddenly uprooted 
 faith and opened eyes, everything appeared much worse than 
 it really was. Of course she had known that men drank and 
 gambled, but it had never come home to her before. And 
 then, six hundred pounds ! To Joanna, who had taken so long 
 to make up thirteen, it seemed enormous. 
 
 It distressed her much when later in the day Sir Nicholas 
 presented her with a set of pearl and gold butterfly brooches. 
 
 However he was quite at peace with himself again when 
 they parted. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 " C'est demain, o'est demain qii'on lance 
 Qu'on lance mon navire anx flots ; 
 L'onde en I'appelant se balance, 
 Devant le prone; amis, silence ! 
 Ne chantez pas, gais matelots. 
 
 " Demain je qnitte le rivage 
 Oh. dormit long temps mon radean ; 
 Lk-bas m'attend phis d'nn orage, 
 Pins d'nn combat, quelqne nanfrage 
 Sur un banc de sable k fleur d'eau." 
 
 "There is Sir Nicholas," said Polly. "Shall we wait for 
 him?" 
 
 " We may as well," said Joanna. " He can walk up with 
 us." 
 
 Cliff House butter had run short, and she and Polly had gone 
 down to buy some at McCracken's. 
 
 It was a bright, frosty morning, and Joanna was feeling 
 rather cold in her despised brown cloak. She and Polly had 
 run all the way down to the village, but they could not run 
 up, in consequence of the butter. 
 
 'There was a good deal of frozen snow on the ground, and 
 icicles hung from the thatch of the cottages. 
 
 "Why, Nicholas," said Joanna, as he came up to them, 
 "you have got your most imposing manner on to-day. Do 
 
A SELFBENTING OBDIFANGE. VI 
 
 oblige me, dear boy, by looking a little more fit for common 
 people like Polly and me to associate with." 
 
 There certainly was something about Sir Nicholas this 
 morning which was more characteristic of Joanna's first 
 acquaintance with liim than was usual now, but he laughed 
 and said : 
 
 "Is it any marvel that I look a little proud and conscious 
 ■when I tell you that Miss Clarke has just presented me with 
 the very first crocus of the year." 
 
 "I little knew you had so excellent a reason," said Joanna, 
 laughing, " but as I don't approve of airs, and as apparently you 
 are not going to offer, may I ask you to carry the butter ? " 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Sir Nicholas, at once, "I was 
 thinking of something else, to tell you the truth. Joanna, you 
 remember I wrote to Meredyth a week ago ? Well, instead 
 of hearing from him to-^ay, I have had a letter from my 
 sister." 
 
 •'And what does she say J "said Joanna. " Polly, you will 
 upset Sir Nicliolas and the butter if you go on like that ; the 
 roads are very slippery." 
 
 Polly, with a hand of each of her companions, was amusing 
 herself by occasional abrupt slides, which she enjoyed more 
 than Sir Nicholas and Joanna did. 
 
 " It's a very civil letter I must say," he said. " She writes 
 that Meredyth would be glad to see me to talk over things, 
 and wants to know if I would go over next week, and if you 
 would go too." 
 
 " I go — to Mere vale ? " 
 
 Joanna stood still on the road, and gazed at him with wide 
 eyes. 
 
 " That's what she says," returned Sir Nicholas. "What do 
 you think of it ? Would you like to go ? " 
 
 "Oh, I should like it better than anything ! " said Joanna 
 ecstatically. 
 
 To go to unknown England, among unknown people, with 
 Nicholas : to plunge into a totally different life, with totally 
 different people, where all sorts of exciting things were sure to 
 happen — it was for this she had longed all her life. 
 
 "Then I suppose I had better say yes, "said he. "Judith 
 says she will then write to you. " 
 
 "Don't you want to go?" said Joanna anxiously. "You 
 know in any case I am perfectly happy here with you." 
 
 " I want to go, right enough," said Sir Nicholas, " but my 
 hesitation is about you. It is not precisely the house I care to 
 take you to. Btft after all I shall be there to look after you, 
 so I don't see that it matters much." 
 
 Joanna listened breathlessly, while her fate hung in the 
 balance. 
 
73 A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 It must be confessed that Sir Nicholas' doubt by no means 
 lessened her desire to go. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was considering how much against him was 
 likely to be public, and if he would run much risk of unpleas- 
 ant meetings. He thought about Joanna too ; was Merevale 
 the sort of house where it was good to bring the girl he wanted 
 to make his wife ? If it was nothing else, might not some 
 of the acquaintances she made there be an inconvenience ? 
 But then he could not afford to be uncharitable, and he would 
 be there to look after her, and in fact he would like her to go, 
 if it was for nothing but to see him at his best. 
 
 " I don't see why you should not go, darling, if you like," 
 he said, heedless of Polly's wide open ears. 
 
 "Oh, Nicholas," said Joanna, with enthusiasm, " it will be 
 perfect happiness I " 
 
 But there was a good deal to be done before the perfect 
 happiness could be attained. First Mr. Conway, and then his 
 wife, had to be brought to consent, with the help of a very 
 civil note from Lady Meredyth; and not even a countess' 
 letter could conquer Mrs. Conway's objection to letting Joanna 
 travel alone with Sir Nicholas. 
 
 Mr. Conway agreed with her there, and the whole plan was 
 very nearly shipwrecked, when it was discovered that Mrs. 
 Moreland was crossing to England on the 8th, and could at 
 least chaperon Joanna from Belfast to Fleetwood. 
 
 Whereupon an acceptance was despatched to Lady Mere- 
 dyth, Joanna was relieved from alternations of hope and fear, 
 and Mrs. Conway and Miss Clarke had a quari-el, which lasted 
 a week, over the proper direction of a letter to a countess. 
 
 There was a great deal to do. For the next ten days Joanna 
 almost lived with the dressmaker, and got three dresses and all 
 her hats in Dei-ry. Sir Nicholas was exceedingly particular, 
 and took as much interest in her clothes as she did herself, with 
 a great deal more knowledge. 
 
 Then Joanna's bees had to be put under the solemn charge 
 of Richard O'Brien, and her hens made over temporarily to 
 Polly, who was very anxious and so much impressed with 
 her responsibilities that she bore her aunt's departure better 
 than she would otherwise have done. Everybody in the 
 village had to be bidden a solemn good-bye, and the Conway 
 trunks had all to be made over to the traveller. 
 
 Miss Chester was frankly jealous, Mrs. Morris less 
 openly so. 
 
 Joanna herself was too utterly happy and excited to have 
 any regrets. She lost her appetite completely, and could 
 neither sleep nor sit down. 
 
 Something was going to happen, and something good it 
 must be— she had no apprehensions. 
 
A SELF-DENTINQ OBDmANCE. 73 
 
 But she had never spent such an endless, crawling ten days 
 in her life, even though Sir Nicholas was there. 
 
 The 8th came at last, and Joanna's last farewells were said 
 carelessly and joyfully. They all came to see her off at the 
 station ; Mrs. Conway gave her some good advice, of which 
 she heard not a word, and Mr. Conway presented her with a 
 five-pound note, which overwhelmed her with a sense of 
 riches. 
 
 Sir Nicholas said : " Now, Joanna, if you fuss I will have 
 nothing to say to you. Leave your boxes to me." 
 
 And though a hat-box of hers and a portmanteau of his 
 were lost for days in consequence, she refrained from 
 triumphing. 
 
 Mrs. Moreland was a capital chaperon, being so deaf that 
 she was no restraint at allj and as she went to bed immedi- 
 ately they got on board ship, and parted from them at Fleet- 
 vrood, they did not see much of her. 
 
 They had a long railway journey before them, and as they 
 got nearer and nearer their destination they both began to 
 get nervous for different I'easons. 
 
 They were comfortable enough outwardly. They had a 
 hot-water tin for their feet, an assortment of rugs, and the 
 carriage to themselves for a good part of the way. 
 
 Joanna was deeply interested by the window at first, with 
 a certain disappointment to find England so extremely like 
 Ireland, but a hope that Berkshire and Merevale would be 
 more different. Nicholas was full of the pleasure of having 
 her so completely to himself, and was at his very best. But 
 as the day drew on, the consciousness of her new blue travel- 
 ling dress failed to support Joanna, and Sir Nicholas too grew 
 very thoughtful and silent. 
 
 "Joanna," he said, " whatever happens, you won't throw 
 me over for other fellows, will you ? I tell you beforehand I 
 couldn't stand it." 
 
 "I don't like to make rash promises," said Joanna, with a 
 brightness which was just then a little forced. " I must be 
 allowed to console myself if you desert me for Lady Florence 
 Delacque. " 
 
 ' ' I should be a great fool if I did, " he returned gravely. ' ' I 
 should simply go headlong to the devil. You wouldn't give 
 me up for a madness like that, would you, darling?" 
 
 " Anxious as I am to oblige you, I couldn't well insist on 
 your sticking to me against your will," said Joanna. "If our 
 engagement was broken off I should just meekly return your 
 presents and go home, a blighted being." 
 
 She laughed at the thought of such an utterly impossible 
 contingency, but Sir Nicholas did not laugh. 
 
 "Don't speak like that, my sweetheart," he said passion- 
 
74 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 ately ; " I can't bear to hear you. If you loved me as well as 
 I love you, you couldn't even speak of our engagement being 
 broken off." 
 
 "It is just because I am so sure that it couldn't happen," 
 said Joanna softly. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Some fell to dance ; some fell to hazardry ; 
 Some to make love ; some to make merriment." 
 
 " Here we are at last," said Sir Nicholas. " Can't you see 
 the house tlirough the trees ? " 
 
 "Why, it seems to be miles away," said Joanna, holding 
 his hand tightly under the rug. " What a long avenue! Do 
 we cross the river ? " 
 
 They were driving up from the station in a waggonette 
 which had been sent to meet them. Joanna had had a vague 
 hope that Lady Meredyth would have come herself, which 
 would have made the first arrival less alarming. 
 
 "This avenue is a good two miles long," said Sir Nicholas, 
 who saw with a certain pleasure that Joanna was impressed. 
 " It's a lovely place, and Meredyth is a lucky fellow. He had 
 a capital time of it knocking about the world as aide-de-camp 
 to different people, till his father died a couple of years ago, 
 and then he had nothing to do but to come home and settle 
 down and marry." 
 
 There was much envy in Sir Nicholas' tone. What credit 
 was it to his brother-in-law to have gone through the world 
 liked and thought well of, when he had never had any 
 temptation? 
 
 "But your sister," said Joanna, "will she like me, do 
 you think? Is she very alarming ? " 
 
 " She'll like you, of course, you little goose," he said ; " but 
 you mustn't expect her to pay much attention to you, because 
 the house will be full, and besides, Judith is completely a 
 man's woman. Everybody looks out for him or herself at 
 Mere vale." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Nicholas," said Joanna, hesitating, 
 "I am feeling a little shy." 
 
 "You shy? Nonsense!" he returned. "Look, dear, isn't 
 the bridge pretty? " 
 
 " And the river, and the trees — everything is lovely," 
 agreed Joanna, " but it is all so hig ! " 
 
 Round the next corner the house again came into view, a 
 great straggling, irregular building, with all sorts of odd 
 angles and corners. 
 
A SELF-BENTING OBBINANCE. 15 
 
 "Why," said Joauna, in dismay, "it is as big as the Shel- 
 bourne hotel ! " 
 
 Whereupon Sir Nicholas incontinently burst out laughing. 
 
 Then they drew up at the door, where a couple of footmen, 
 and only a couple of footmen, came to receive them. 
 
 Joanna stood rather forlornly upon the steps, while Sir 
 Nicholas gave a few directions about the luggage. She was 
 tired and over-excited ; she had a headache, and felt absurdly 
 inclined to cry. She wanted Mrs. Morris, or Polly, or even 
 her mother, and was desperately afraid of losing sight of Sir 
 Nicholas. So much so, that, when one of the footmen said 
 that her ladyship had told him to ask if they would rather go 
 to their rooms or join the rest in her ladyship's sitting-room, 
 she preferred, tired and travel-stained as she was, to make her 
 hostess' acquaintance at once with him, to the risk of having 
 to make it later alone. 
 
 In which Joanna was very unwise. 
 
 So they crossed the hall, and were ushered through a pas- 
 sage and a couple of rooms till they came to an open doorway, 
 sheltered by a heavy curtain and a mousherabeyeh screen. 
 There was a hum of many voices, hushed for a moment by 
 their entrance, and then breaking out again in a welcome to 
 Sir Nicholas. In that moment his doubts and fears as to his 
 reception were at an end. 
 
 Joanna stood still, absolutely bewildered. It was getting 
 dusk, and the room was a dark one, and seemed to be full of 
 people, all talking at once, and most of them apparently very 
 intimate with Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " Well, Nick," said one girl, with vei-y short petticoats and 
 a loud voice, " do you feel like Rip Van Winkle? Come to 
 me to put you up to all the latest tips." 
 
 "You haven't been shot by moonlighters or grown a 
 beard?" said another. 
 
 " He's done worse," said a pink- and- white young man in a 
 shooting coat. 
 
 Nobody took any notice of Joanna just at first, as she stood 
 aside, feeling, all at once, very plain and shabby in her blue 
 serge. 
 
 Most of the ladies were in teagowns, and a few in shirts, 
 covert coats, and short petticoats seemed to have just come in. 
 Tiie men, who were few, were all in shooting coats and knick- 
 erbockers. 
 
 Sir Nicholas seemed to have fallen into his right place as if 
 by magic, but Joanna, in her Ballylone made serge, which 
 she had secretly admired so much, felt herself suddenly and 
 miserably aloof , even from him. 
 
 A squarely built, rather short young man was the first to 
 pay any attention to her. She had thought him plain, till he 
 
^6 A SELF-DENTISa OBDINANGE. 
 
 turned to her with a smile, disclosing an excellent row of 
 teeth. 
 
 " May I introduce myself ? " he said. " Judith, this is Miss 
 Conway." 
 
 A faded, but still pretty lady in a light blue silk teagown 
 rose leisurely from her chair, and held out her hand indiffer- 
 ently to Joanna. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you. Miss Conway," she said, in a 
 slow voice. "Nick should have introduced you, but you 
 must excuse him; he is engrossed with his old friends." 
 
 Joanna drew herself up indignantly: it was not for any 
 third person to make excuses for Nicholas to her. 
 
 "You have had a long journey, and I am sure you are 
 tired," said the square young man. 
 
 " And so I shall take you at once to your room," said the 
 lady in the blue teagown, whom she perforce concluded must 
 be Lady Meredyth. 
 
 Joanna had all this time been silent, with an irrational 
 choking feeling in her throat, but she threw one pleading, 
 imploring look in Sir Nicholas' du-ection as she left the room. 
 If he would only look at her and give her courage ! 
 
 But Sir Nicholas had his back to her, so, as she said to her^ 
 self indignantly, how was it possible he could know she 
 ■wanted encouragement ? 
 
 She was not going to show herself a fool and a coward at 
 the very beginning, she resolved, as she followed Lady Mere- 
 dyth upstairs and through labyrinths of passages. Joanna 
 had to keep some distance behind her hostess to avoid tread- 
 ing on the blue silk train, which she nevertheless did twice in 
 her nervousness, and she was relieved when Lady Meredyth 
 ushered her into one of a row of numbered rooms. 
 
 " I hope you will be comfortable here," she said, in the soft, 
 slow voice, which, somehow, reminded Joanna of Sir Nicho- 
 las'. "There are rather a noisy crew in this passage, and I 
 dare say you had better lock your door, if you don't care for 
 midnight revelry. I will send a maid, if you have not 
 brought one." 
 
 " Oh, thank you! " said Joanna. 
 
 "I dare say you will be glad to have a rest before dressing 
 for dinner; I will send you up some tea. Dinner is at eight." 
 
 Lady Meredyth did not take much trouble to conceal that 
 her sole wish was to get Joanna comfortably disposed of for 
 the time. She considered that she had already obliged her 
 husband by being much more gracious than was at all 
 necessary. 
 
 She turned to leave the room, but Joanna felt too forlorn 
 and frightened to let herself be deserted like this. 
 
 "Where — where is Nicholas' room?" she said, and then 
 
A SELF-BENTING OBDINANOE. 11 
 
 she would have given anything to have unsaid the words 
 when she saw the amusement in Lady Meredyth's eyes. 
 
 " Nick ? Oh, I am sure I don't know," she answered, with 
 a laugh. 
 
 Joanna shut her mouth tight, and said nothing more. 
 
 When she was alone, she sat down on her bed, feeling very 
 much inclined to cry. 
 
 " Well," she said to herself, " I am a fool ! Didn't I beg, 
 entreat, and implore to be allowed to come, and feel perfectly 
 happy at the thought of it; and now, before I liave been half 
 an hour in the house, I wish myself back at Ballylone! And 
 why? For no reason but silliness. Lady Meredyth has been 
 quite kind; and if she hadn't, I am not going to be afraid of 
 a girl very little older than I am, I hope ; and the young man 
 with the smile was very nice. As for Nicholas, it would 
 have been very odd if he had not spoken to old friends he has 
 not seen for a year ; and it certainly was not my clothes he 
 fell in love with in the first instance." 
 
 Whereupon she dried her eyes, and decided that it would 
 be too silly if she was miserable because the house was big 
 and full of people, and Nicholas was called Nick. 
 
 She did not he down to rest; she wandered round her room, 
 inspected its comforts, discovered with felicity that she had 
 a balcony, and began a letter home on coroneted paper. She 
 wrote very cheerfully, and said that Lady Meredith had been 
 very kind, and that the house was full of people. 
 
 Then the maid, a tall, beautifully dressed young person, 
 came, and Joanna, strongly against her will, let her unpack, 
 and was almost inclined to ask her what she had better wear 
 for dinner. 
 
 She refrained, however, and decided on a white silk, which 
 was a Derry production, and therefore inspired her with 
 more confidence than if it had come from Ballylone. 
 
 She took a good look at herself in her long glass before she 
 started to find her way to the drawing-room. Her dress was 
 plain, but it suited her, and fitted her well, thanks to Sir 
 Nicholas' criticisms. Her pretty, fuzzy brown hair was 
 twisted quaintly round her head, her headache was gone, and 
 altogether Joanna knew she looked as well as she had it in her 
 to look. 
 
 She was almost pretty, and looked very fresh and young 
 when after many wanderings she opened the drawing-room 
 door, and found herself once more in public. 
 
 It was a big, heavily furnished room, with groups of people 
 dotted about in all directions. Sir Nicholas, to whom her 
 eyes went straight as if by instinct, was leaning over a pretty, 
 lively girl, playing with her fan, but he came over to Joanna 
 at once. 
 
^8 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "Well, dear," he said, "are you rested? Come over to 
 the fire; I want to introduce you to Lady Hilda West, and 
 Mrs. Kestrell and some of the others. " 
 
 Joanna looked at him with grateful eyes. 
 
 Till dinner was announced she was perfectly happy. Sir 
 Nicholas introduced her to a good many people, but he stood 
 beside her all the time, and then the young man with the fas- 
 cinating smile came up and spoke to her, and turned out to be 
 her host. 
 
 "No strangers to-night," said Lady Meredyth, "so we go in 
 according to choice." 
 
 This was all very well if she had remembered that Joanna, 
 at any rate, was a stranger. 
 
 Sir Nicholas took a half step toward her, when a pretty 
 girl in a very low pink dress, to whom she had been intro- 
 duced as Lady Hilda West, intervened. 
 
 "Now, Nick, you are not going to entirely desert old 
 friends, are you ? " she said. " I am sure Miss Conway will 
 excuse you if you take me into dinner, and you won't repent 
 it, I assure you : I have all the latest scandal at my fingers 
 ends.'' 
 
 " I shouldn't repent it if you didn't say a word all dinner," 
 said Sir Nicholas promptly. "Look here, Dawley, will you 
 take Miss Conway ? Lord Dawley — Miss Conway." 
 
 " May I ? " said Lord Dawley, looking extremely disgusted. 
 
 He was a fat young man, with a marvellously pink and 
 white complexion, and having seated Joanna he apparently 
 considered he had done all that was necessary. He had 
 wanted to take in Mrs. Kestrell, and had brought Joanna into 
 the dining-room almost at a run, with a view to getting a 
 seat next to the object of his adoration; having failed he 
 sullenly devoted himself to his dinner. He was too young 
 himself to have any taste for an ingdnue, as he considered his 
 new aquaintance, and besides his general conversation was of 
 the most limited description. 
 
 On the other side of Joanna was a man who was entirely 
 engrossed with his neighbour, so she had plenty of time to 
 look about and observe. 
 
 The room was big, like everything about Merevale, with 
 panelled walls, and high, stained windows. Very dark and 
 gloomy it must be by daylight, she decided, but just now 
 it was brilliantly lighted up, and there were roaring fires, so 
 it looked warm and comfortable enough. High up at one 
 corner was an empty band-stand. 
 
 The table was arranged entirely in pink : pink roses, pink 
 lampshades, and pink ribbons. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was sitting just in sight of Joanna if she leaned 
 forward; he was pulling his moustache, and looked amused 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 79 
 
 and animated, the handsomest man there, she proudly- 
 thought. 
 
 But she was heartily tired of the dinner and her sullen com- 
 panion before it was over, and very glad to leave the room in 
 Lady Meredyth's train. 
 
 In the drawing-room once more it was a little awkward. 
 
 Everyone but Joanna seemed to have her own particular 
 set of friends. She sat down vaguely near Lady Meredyth, 
 and tried at first to look as if the conversation interested her, 
 and to smile at the right places ; but they talked of people she 
 knew nothing about, and she only felt herself in the way. 
 She drew ba^ a little, and took up that last refuge of the 
 destitute, a photograph book. 
 
 " You look very dull," said a loud friendly voice near her. 
 
 She looked up ; Lady Hilda West had sauntered across the 
 room to her, and sat down on the sofa beside her. 
 
 " Nick asked me to see that you were not left out in the 
 cold," she said cheerfully; "he knows Judith's little ways." 
 
 "It is all right," said Joanna, " but you see I don't know 
 the people they are talking about." 
 
 She was so grateful to her new friend that she refused to 
 see her exceedingly low dress, which had amazed her before. 
 
 "I'll give you a hint or two," said Lady Hilda. " Put you 
 up to a few of the people here. In the first place don't ever 
 depend upon Judith. She doesn't think a woman worth the 
 trouble of speaking to, and she is jealous of every girl who is 
 young." 
 
 "Oh, hush! " said Joanna, in distress, "she is sure to hear 
 you." 
 
 " It's all one to me if she does. She was a beauty once, and 
 she can't retire gracefully. " 
 
 " And who is the very pretty girl she is talking to ? " said 
 Joanna, not because she wanted to know, but because these 
 strictures on Lady Meredyth made her uncomfortable, and 
 she did not feel equal to reproof. 
 
 "That," said Lady Hilda, lowering her voice ever so little, 
 "is Mrs. Kestrell. She was married out of the courts, and 
 she drinks like a flsh. She isn't received everywhere, but this 
 is Liberty Hall." 
 
 Joanna had not the dimmest idea what marriage out of the 
 courts meant, but dimly connected it with Windsor and the 
 queen. 
 
 " Drinks — that girl? " she said. 
 
 "Indeed she does ; she has to be carried to bed every night." 
 
 "Oh, how horrible!" said Joanna, looking at the pretty 
 girlish face with fascinated disgust. 
 
 "I can tell you something about most people, even about 
 Nick," said Lady Hilda, with a laugh. "What did you think 
 
80 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANCE. 
 
 of your neighbour at dinner? Wonderful complexion, 
 hasn't he? " 
 
 " I never saw anybody -with such an extraordinary colour; 
 I felt quite sorry for him," said Joanna. 
 
 "You needn't have pitied him," returned Lady Hilda, with 
 a laugh; "he admires it very much himself, and in fact puts 
 it on fresh every day." 
 
 " Do you mean that he paints — a man paints? " said Joanna. 
 
 "Oh, you'll learn a few funny things here," said Lady 
 Hilda; "among others that Nick will not approve of your 
 having too much to say to me." 
 
 "Oh, I hope not! " said Joanna, a little embarrassed. 
 
 "It's true enough, I assure you," said her companion 
 calmly. " Now, Miss Conway, here come the men ; just oblige 
 me by looking at Judith." 
 
 And Lady Hilda calmly raised a long-handled eye-glass and 
 surveyed her hostess. 
 
 Lady Meredyth had been languidly leaning back in her 
 chair, exchanging an occasional remark with Mrs. Kestrel), 
 and making no effort to conceal her boredom. The change 
 was like lightning: she gave a hasty pat to her hair, changed 
 her attitude, and became smiling, gracious, and inviting. 
 
 Lord Meredyth and Sir Nicholas both came over to where 
 the two girls were sitting. 
 
 " Miss Conway," Lord Meredyth said, "Osborne tells me 
 you don't hunt, otherwise I should have been more than happy 
 to give you a mount for to-morrow." 
 
 " Where is the meet ? " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "Near the Dingle hill," said Lady Hilda; " we are all going 
 to breakfast at Rosshalton." 
 
 "Nearly everybody goes, so I am sorry you do not hunt. 
 Miss Conway," said Lord Meredyth. "lam afraid you will 
 find it rather dull." 
 
 But Joanna, with delighted eyes, said she did not think so. 
 
 "Joanna," said Sir Nicholas, in a low voice, " I think you 
 had better go to bed. You are tired, and I am sure nobody 
 else will go for hours." 
 
 " I should like it," said Joanna, "if Lady Meredyth won't 
 think it rude." 
 
 " Come on, then ; I will see you on your way," he returned 
 kindly enough. 
 
 "Hallo, Nick, where are you off to ?" said Lady Hilda. 
 " Come and give us a song before the little gamble begins. I 
 suppose you are not up in the latest, and haven't even heard of 
 ' The Golden Hair was Hanging down her Back.' " 
 
 " I'll prove to you I am not so utterly behind the times as 
 you think, in about ten minutes," said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 Joanna allowed herself to be taken out of the drawing-room 
 
A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 81 
 
 very gladly ; to have Nicholas to herself even for five minutes 
 after this bewildering day was restful. 
 
 " You look very sweet, my pet," he said, quite as tenderly 
 as she could wish. " Have you had a very deadly evening ? " 
 
 " Oh, no 1 " said Joanna, clinging to his arm, as they crossed 
 the hall. "Lady Hilda West was awfully kind." 
 
 "She is a very good-natured girl, darliug, but I am not very 
 keen for your seeing much of her," said Sir Nicholas; " she's 
 an awful romp, and she absolutely doesn't care what she does. 
 I don't want to see you like any one of the women here." 
 
 "Not even like Lady Florence Delacque?" said Joanna 
 mischievously, 
 
 " Certainly not," he said hastily; " but she isn't here now. 
 Hilda West is her sister. " 
 
 "Oh, then, I must take an interest in her," said Joanna. 
 ' ' Nicholas, I am so glad there is to be a meet to-morrow. I 
 do hope it will be a good day." 
 
 " You won't be lonely, will you ? " he said. " Come down 
 early and see us off if you can, and then I will introduce you 
 to any stay-at-hotne who happens to turn up. I dare say 
 somebody will drive over, and then you could come." 
 
 " I shall have a capital time," said Joanna. "Good-night, 
 dear ; you had better go back to the others — I shall find my 
 way all right." 
 
 Sir Nicholas sauntered back to the drawing-room rather 
 thoughtfully. Lady Meredyth looked up when he entered, 
 with a slight smile. 
 
 "Well, Nick," she said carelessly, "perhaps having seen 
 your protig£e safely away you will condescend to relax a little. " 
 
 Sir Nicholas fiushed rather angrily, and sank into a chair 
 beside his sister. 
 
 "I must say I had no idea that she was your style," Lady 
 Meredyth added. "I should fancy you might attend to her 
 dresses a little with advantage. I suppose you have forsworn 
 racing, cards, and all such temptations of the Evil One ? " 
 
 "I am not going to play to-night at any rate," said Sir 
 Nicholas shortly; "I am going to the billiard-room." 
 
 "Have you heard that Florence Delacque is coming here 
 after next week? " said Lady Meredyth, with intention. 
 
82 A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " Kode ont on a day, 
 Saddled and bridled 
 And gallant tu see." 
 
 Sir Nicholas undoubtedly admired himself very much as 
 he sauntered through the hall next morning, in his well-fit- 
 tiug red coat and spotless breeches. 
 
 His moustache had reached its last stage of perfection, his 
 manner was at its very height, and he carried his hunting 
 crop un4er his arm as he leisurely buttoned his gloves. 
 
 He was a very handsome, well-made young man, and he 
 was quite aware of the fact. His spirits were at the highest, 
 with the prospect of a good run, and he was at peace with 
 himself, which with him meant being at peace with all the 
 world. 
 
 Last night he had been just a little annoyed with Joanna 
 for not doing more credit to his choice, for looking shy and 
 out of place and being unable to hold her own, but at the 
 same time he felt that his annoyance was unjust. 
 
 Nobody had envied him, and he liked to be envied. At 
 Ballylone Joanna was in her way an important person, but 
 here she was nobody; just a countrified little girl, with no 
 style of her own, and no way of collecting a crowd of admirers 
 round her. 
 
 Sir Nicholas dimly felt that he was throwing himself away, 
 but he knew that he had been very good to Joanna all the 
 samBj and he was pleased with himself. 
 
 This morning, not even the fact that she was standing all 
 alone in the hall waiting for him, while the others were 
 together in groups, had power to disturb his equanimity. 
 
 He greeted her, and then sauntered leisurely from group to 
 group, meditating who was to have the honour of driving in 
 the tandem with Iiim to breakfast at Rosshalton. 
 
 Finally he decided that Lady Hilda should be so far 
 favoured, simply because he heard Lord Dawley and Mr. 
 Kestrel] putting forward joint claims to her company. 
 
 Lady Hilda was a very popular girl among a certain set of 
 men ; she was as good as a married woman they said, up to 
 anything, and a girl before whom you need not trouble to be 
 on your " p's " and " q's." 
 
 The compliment was a rather dubious one, but the fact 
 remained that she had always a train of admirers, and though 
 she was not Sir Nicholas' style at all, it pleased him to take 
 her away from the rest. 
 
 All the men and most of the ladies were in pink, and made 
 
A SELF-BENTINQ ORDINANCE. 83 
 
 a very bright spot of colour as they stood on the steps waiting 
 for the start. Some were riding to Rosshalton, some going on 
 the coach. 
 
 It was a glorious morning, with a light northerly breeze, 
 and a few clouds straying about a blue sky ; a day to raise 
 anybody's spirits. 
 
 Sir Nicholas tucked the warm rug round himself and his 
 companion, gave her hand a distinct pressure, and looked at 
 her with so much expression in his eyes that she laughed. 
 It was not that he particularly admired Lady Hilda, it was 
 merely force of habit, and one way of expressing his spirits. 
 
 " It is odd to think of you as a sedate, engaged man, Nick,'' 
 said Lady Hilda, with a laugh ; one little peculiarity of hers 
 was that she always called men by their Christian names. 
 
 "Poor little thing," she added; " I wish she had been able 
 to come." 
 
 It annoyed Sir Nicholas to hear the girl he was engaged to 
 spoken of as a poor little thing, and he showed it. 
 
 "It's rather rude of you to pity her," he said, with a little 
 more than his usual stammer. 
 
 "You would rather I was consumed with envy, wouldn't 
 you, my dear boy ? " said Lady Hilda, with her loud laugh ; 
 "but there are several reasons against that, and one is that 
 I am ready to bet you two dozen pairs of gloves against one 
 that you never marry her." 
 
 " Done! " said Sir Nicholas. " Have a cigarette ?" 
 
 Lady Hilda accepted, but she did not at once change the 
 subject. 
 
 "If it comes to an even battle between Florence and her 
 next week," she said, "I would lay long odds on Florence." 
 
 " Slie is really coming, then? " said Sir Nicholas, colouring 
 ever so slightly. 
 
 "Really coming; they arrive on Sunday night, and then 
 you will have a liigh old time of it, my friend." 
 
 " My good girl, talk of what you know something about," 
 said Sir Nicholas; " this leader is a good one to go." 
 
 "She's not a bad make of horse at all, is she ? Meredyth 
 has hunted her once or twice," said Lady Hilda. "There's 
 no meet on Saturday, Nick, Meredyth goes up to town for the 
 opening of the Lords. Do you know that he is to move the 
 Address ? " 
 
 " No, is he ? " said Nicholas indifferently. Lord Meredyth 
 was always rather a sore subject with him; his success, his 
 riches, his popularity, and above all, a perception that he 
 looked upon his brother-in-law with a feeling not unmixed 
 with contempt, disturbed Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " He has got drainage on the brain at present," said Lady 
 Hilda, "and Judith revolves between Captain Digby-Grant, 
 
84 A 8ELF-BEN7ING ORDINANOE. 
 
 ■who makes wild efforts to escape, and Santon the Foreign 
 Office man, with a few lesser lights. Where's my flask, Nick? 
 Did you give it back to me when you filled it ? " 
 
 There was nothing more said about Joanna, and a couple of 
 good runs put her and everything else in the world out of Sir 
 Nicholas' head for the time being. He had often ridden with 
 the Merevale hounds before, running up from London for the 
 purpose, and mounted on a good hunter, and well to the 
 front, he could almost forget tne many things that had hap- 
 pened since he last rode with them, and that this horse that 
 carried him was not his own. 
 
 It was Lord Meredyth who brought him very abruptly to 
 earth, as they rode slowly up the Merevale avenue almost in 
 the dark. 
 
 They had fallen a little behind the rest. Sir Nicholas pre- 
 ferring to consider his horse to the pleasure of anybody's 
 society, and Lord Meredyth partly on purpose. They I'ode 
 and smoked for some time in silence, their minds full of the 
 past run: then Lord Meredyth said : "Osborne, I have heeu 
 thinking over your letter a good deal and should be delighted 
 to see my way to help you. Are you still in the Same mind, 
 and do you seriously want to be in a position to enable you 
 to marry 1 " 
 
 Poor Sir Nicholas ! He had been dreaming happily over 
 past and future days with the hounds, mixed with a vague 
 satisfaction at the prospect of Joanna's greeting which was 
 before him, and his spirits all at once sank to zero. 
 
 He waited a minute or two before he answered, and then he 
 said rather shortly that he had not changed his mind. 
 
 "You will understand," said Lord Meredyth slowly, "that 
 it is not very easy to find anything that suits you and that at 
 the same time — excuse me for speaking plainly — you would 
 suit. I could, probably, let you have the agency of my Irish 
 pi'operty next year, if you cared to make yourself up in the 
 business a little. I am not exactly clear as to what it is worth, 
 but I could let you know in a few days." 
 
 Sir Nicholas' face fell in the darkness. 
 
 "The truth is, Meredyth," he said, "that I shall come to 
 almighty smash if I don't get something pretty well immedi- 
 ately. If there is any difficulty about it," — in an offended 
 tone, — "of course I would not think of troubling you." 
 
 Lord Meredyth shrugged his shoulders impatiently ; would 
 nothing give an Osborne a small allowance of common 
 sense ? 
 
 " It is not exactly easy," he said. " As far as I know, you 
 have no particular qualifications for anything. There's a 
 post in China, but you see, Osborne,"— with great hesitation,— 
 "there are— drawbacks. For my part, I would be very glad 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBDINANOE. 85 
 
 to lend you a sum of money, if you have any ideas of your 
 own about making a start. And look here, my dear fellow, 
 is it all over with Lady Florence ? " 
 
 "D n Lady Florence ! " said Sir Nicholas, with sudden 
 
 passion. "I am sick of having her dinned into my ears." 
 
 They rode the rest of the way in silence, and separated, 
 mutually ill-pleased, at the hall door, Lord Meredyth to make 
 his way to the kennels, and Sir Nicholas to betake himself in 
 ruffled mood to his room. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Since we parted yester eve 
 I do love thee, love, believe. 
 Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer. 
 One dream deeper, one night stronger. 
 One sun surer— this much more 
 Than I loved thee, love, before." 
 
 " Oh," said Joanna, with a deep sigh of content, " to think 
 that I have not seen you to speak to for twelve long hours, 
 and forty minutes." 
 
 The rest of the house were in the billiard-room, or deep in 
 the preparations for an evening of cards, and Sir Nicholas 
 had carried her off to the empty music-room, where they had 
 established themselves very comfortably on one of the broad, 
 high window seats. 
 
 " I hope you are duly flattered at my being so glad to see 
 you," said Joanna happily. " I went in to dinner with such a 
 nice boy, and I should have been most agreeable to him, if I 
 had not been distracted by an occasional distant glimpse of 
 your nose, when you leaned forward. I never found the size 
 of your nose a satisfaction to me before, Nicholas dear." 
 
 ' ' You don't love me as well as I love you, " said Sir Nicholas, 
 for the fiftieth time, " or you would find everything about me 
 a satisfaction to you." 
 
 But Joanna was not much moved by this complaint. 
 
 " I love you quite well enough for all practical purposes," 
 said she ; " but I am still rather sorry to think that boy who 
 took me in to dinner will think me half an idiot." 
 
 " Never mind boys," said Sir Nicholas. " I want you to get 
 on with the older people, darling ; you must, if you are to 
 make a position for yourself." 
 
 ' ' Then you will be pleased with my afternoon," said Joanna. 
 " I have spent it with the fattest and oldest gentleman in the 
 house." 
 
 " The Beattie ? " said Sir Nicholas, at once. 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna. "I wish he wouldn't make mecallhim 
 
86 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 plain Beattie, without a Mr. ; it sounds so impertinent, but he 
 is a very nice old gentleman all the same." 
 
 " H'm ! " said Sir Nicholas, with distinct doubt in his tone. 
 
 " He is," persisted Joanna ; " just think how few old gentle- 
 men would be good enough to bother themselves with a girl, 
 instead of dozing over the fire on a cold afternoon like this. 
 Just because he saw I was a stranger, he took me out and 
 taught me golf all the afternoon. " 
 
 " I have no doubt he was exceedingly good-natured," said Sir 
 Nicholas, laughing ; " and I am sure he would be immensely 
 delighted if he knew you thought him a nice old gentleman. 
 I am glad you had something to amuse you, my child." 
 
 "I liked it awfully," said Joanna ; "the golf course was 
 lovely, and it was great fun. There were such glorious gorse 
 bushes, that made me think how pleased the bees at home 
 would be to be here." 
 
 Her tone got just a little wistful, and Sir Nicholas said 
 quickly : " You aren't home-sick, are you, sweetlieart ? " 
 
 "I shall never be home-sick where you are," said Joanna, 
 very low, "and I should be home-sick in heaven without 
 you." 
 
 It was very seldom that she spoke like this ; their love for 
 each other did not need speaking about, and their daily meet- 
 ings had brought them to terms which were in some ways 
 like those of a husband and wife. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was very much touched by her words, and 
 a happy silence fell between them. 
 
 He was resolving, with self for once put aside, that, God 
 helping him, he would be very true to Joanna, and make him- 
 self a better man for her sake. 
 
 She was admiring him with all her heart, thinking how 
 good he was, how well he understood her, and what a lucky 
 girl she could think herself for being chosen by this man 
 among all others. She felt sorry for everybody else in the 
 world. 
 
 Lady Hilda and Lord Dawley broke in upon them noisily, 
 bursting into the room in pursuit of each other, and stopping 
 short with exaggerated dismay when they caught sight of the 
 two on the window seat. 
 
 Sir Nicholas sprang to the ground, with a very bad word 
 under his breath. 
 
 " Hilda," he said, " if this was my house, I should certainly 
 make you supply new looks to the handles of all the doors 
 when you left." 
 
 " When Income to stay in your house, Nick, I shall be very 
 careful," said Lady Hilda calmly. " In the meanwhile, though 
 I wouldn't disturb you for worlds, Dawley and I were sent to 
 know if you feel like the making of a little oof to-night ? " 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 87 
 
 " I can't say that I do particularly," said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " It is true that they don't approve of cards in the north of 
 Ireland, isn't it. Miss Conway ?" said Lord Dawley. 
 
 Joanna looked anxiously at Sir Nicholas, a look which the 
 others caught and which annoyed him. 
 
 "You don't allow Osborne to play, I am sure," Loi'd 
 Dawley went on teasingly. 
 
 " If I were your mother, I certainly should not allow you to 
 play," said Joanna sharply, at which Sir Nicholas and Lady 
 Hilda laughed, and Lord Dawley coloured and looked annoyed. 
 
 Then they all sauntered o£E toward the drawing-room, dis- 
 puting about the best contents for a flask on a day's hunting, 
 which necessarily put Joanna out of the conversation. 
 
 As they entered the room, she found a chance of whispering 
 to Sir Nicholas : 
 
 ' ' You are not going to play, Nicholas, are you ? " 
 
 " Don't be a little goose," said he, in return. " A few pounds 
 here or there make no difference whatever." 
 
 Joanna had never seen anything at all like the scene round 
 the two long green tables. Everybody was smoking and 
 everybody was drinking, or had drunk, or was going to drink, 
 whiskeys and sodas; a couple of men were making themselves 
 cocktails, Mrs. Kestrell, very much flushed and talking a 
 good deal, was fumbling with her purse, and all tlie rest were 
 selecting seats and shuffling cards. 
 
 Joanna, with five pounds upstairs as the extent of her riches, 
 could not play cards, neither could she smoke or drink whiskey 
 and soda, even had she wished it, or had Sir Nicholas been at 
 all likely to consent. He suggested that she had better go to 
 bed, but she did not feel inclined for this either. She took a 
 secret, shocked interest in the scene ; there was a certain 
 inexcusable satisfaction in picturing her mother's feelings had 
 she known what was going on. 
 
 In her retired corner by the flre she wondered what Mrs. 
 Conway would do if she were to write her a full and graphic 
 description. 
 
 Everybody grew very eager and excited, especially at Mrs. 
 Kestrell's table, where they got rather noisy too.. Sir Nicholas, 
 after one or two uncomfortable twinges of conscience about 
 Joanna, forgot her in the satisfaction of winning. 
 
 Joanna could see the back of his handsome head, and 
 watched it with much satisfaction. He was very silent, and 
 scarcely touched his tumbler; played steadily and without 
 excitement, and once, to her immense amusement, distinctly 
 pressed the hand of the lady who sat next him. She was get- 
 ting a little tired and sleepy, and wondering if she might walk 
 straight out of the room, or if she ought to disturb her hostess 
 to say good-night, when Lord Meredyth came in. 
 
88 A 8ELF-DENTINa ORDINANCE. 
 
 ' ' Hallo ! " he said. ' ' Is this the order of the day ? " 
 
 " There's a seat at this table," said Lady Hilda. 
 
 "No, thank you! I have just been taking the chair at a 
 temperance lecture in the village, and the change is too 
 abrupt. I will talk to Miss Conway, if she consents." 
 
 Joanna not only consented, but liked it very much ; she was 
 still under the fascination of his smile. 
 
 " I dare say they have told you that I have got Irish politics 
 on the brain. Miss Conway ? " he said, drawing in a chair. 
 "Can you give me your opinion of Gladstone and Home 
 Rule ? " 
 
 Lord "Meredyth's good manners were well known ; he had 
 never been intentionally rude to man, woman, or child, and 
 nobody ever talked to him without feeling rather raised in 
 his or her own estimation. 
 
 Before Joanna went to bed she had ceased to feel depressed 
 by the thought that she was a countrified little girl, with ill- 
 fitting dresses, and entirely out of her element, but all the 
 same she wrote a rather scathing report of the evening in her 
 diary when she went to her room. She had never kept a diary 
 at Ballylone, except a very, business-like record, having to do 
 with bees and potatoes, but she had invested in a new f ourpenny 
 exercise book before she left home, in which to record her 
 many adventures. 
 
 She was just concluding her account of the day with the 
 words : 
 
 " I do not like the people here at all ; I think they are very 
 fast and ill behaved," when she was startled by a most terrific 
 noise in the passage, joined to wild cries for help. 
 
 Joanna ran to the door very much alarmed, and had her 
 breath taken away by receiving a wet sponge full in her face 
 when she opened it. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " said Lord Dawley breathlessly ; " it 
 was meant for Lady Hilda." 
 
 The passage was full of men in smoking coats, and ladies and 
 sponges and pillows, and a sort of guerilla warfare was going 
 on up and down. 
 
 Joanna stood and stared. She had never come across bear- 
 fighting in any shape or form before. Lord Dawley and 
 Lady Hilda were keeping up a brisk sponge fire at close 
 quarters. Lady Meredyth and a couple of men were having a 
 hand to hand encounter further off, and as Joanna gazed she 
 saw one lady come incontinently to the ground with a man 
 on the top of her. 
 
 Another sponge from Lord Dawley, this time sent with 
 intention, caught her full on the neck, sending streams of 
 cold water pouring down her dress, and she shut her door 
 hastily. But a few minutes later, her assailant, who had 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 89 
 
 certainly had quite as much to drink as was at all necessary, 
 auuounced a desire to come in, on the pretext that he and Mr. 
 Kestrell wanted to turn Catherine wheels against each other 
 over her bed, and Joanna was very tliankful she had locked 
 her door. Neither was she amused when she found that her 
 bed was very neatly arranged so that she could not possibly 
 get into it. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " This is a night of pleasure ! Care 
 I shake thee from me ! " 
 
 Friday morning was extremely uneventful to Joanna. 
 Everybody got up late and had breakfast at odd hours. She 
 happened to have hers at a little table in the breakfast-room, 
 with Lord Meredyth and Lady Hilda West. 
 
 He was going off to Petty Sessions in rather a hurry, and 
 the two girls were soon alone. Lady Hilda was very kind to 
 Joanna; she took her about with her for half the morning, and 
 shook off any men who happened to turn up. She rather 
 • distressed her by announcing an intention of calling her 
 " Jo," but on the whole the girl could not help admiring her 
 a little. Her clothes were so well made, and she was so 
 imperturbably at her ease, and then, when she took Joanna to 
 her room, she was undeniably impressed by her new friend's 
 silver-backed brushes, her dressing-case and toilet arrange- 
 ments in general, the extreme neatness of everything, and the 
 calmness with which she rang for her maid to get out a pair 
 of stockings and a handkerchief. Joanna tried to imagine 
 what Annie at home would think if she was summoned for 
 that purpose. 
 
 She admired Lady Hilda's neat dozens of handkerchiefs of 
 all kinds and colours, and her assortment of stockings and 
 shoes filled her with amazement. 
 
 When Lady Hilda changed into a gray tweed skirt and coat, 
 with a white blouse and bronze belt, she changed also into 
 bronze stockings and shoes, and twisted a bronze ribbon in her 
 fair curly hair. Joanna looked and admired and sighed, 
 when she thought that here was something that she could 
 never attain in her home-made dresses — a vague something 
 which she found very desirable. 
 
 She did not admire Lady Hilda so much a little later, when 
 she found her hanging about the hall in a group of men, her 
 hands in her pockets and a cigarette in her mouth. 
 
 After she had left her, Joanna was taken up by The Beattie, 
 a fat old man, who would not consent to grow old, and who 
 still devoted himself to young girls. But Joanna, who could 
 
90 A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 enjoy herself with most people, was quite ready to be amused, 
 and had not the remotest conception that The Beattie imagined 
 himself to be indulging in a very promising flirtation. Cer- 
 tainly he did get rather unpleasantly close to her at times, but 
 she only moved away, and charitably excused it and his loud 
 breathing, as signs of old age. 
 
 Nicholas, as fate would have it, she did not see before lunch, 
 and then, after waiting about for him for some time, she was 
 seized upon with every intention of kindness by Lady Hilda, 
 who thought she was too shy to go in by herself; so she had 
 nearly finished before he turned up. 
 
 People all sat where they liked and came in when thoy 
 liked, so Joanna, under Lady Hilda's wing, found herself at 
 Lord Meredyth's end of the table. Lady Hilda and Lord 
 Meredyth were very often to be found together. Lord Dawley 
 was on the other side of Joanna, by an adroit arrangement 
 on the part of Lady Hilda, beside whom he had intended to 
 sit. For the last two days he had completely deserted his 
 allegiance to Mrs. Kestrell, and made himself over to Lady 
 Hilda, who was not particularly grateful. It had occurred to 
 her, however, that he would be a very satisfactory second 
 string for Joanna, in case of anything going wrong between 
 her and Sir Nicholas. Lord Dawley was young, rich, and the 
 heir to a dukedom, if he was a fool, and did paint his face and 
 giggle. 
 
 But Joanna and he took to each other not at all kindly. 
 
 " I have had a hard morning on the bench, and want to be 
 relaxed this afternoon," said Lord Meredyth ; " what is every- 
 body going to do ? What is your idea, Judith ? " 
 
 "I? Captain Digby-Grant is coming over and I have 
 promised to go for a ride with him," said Lady Meredyth: 
 " but some of the rest are going to a function of some sort at 
 Hurst Lee, and there's apicnic to the Towers and a golf match 
 somewliere." 
 
 "You had better join my select party,'' said Lady Hilda. 
 " We are going to have donkey races on the moor, with a 
 sweepstake on each event. We intend to have regular tilting 
 at the ring to-morrow, as there is no meet, and there's to be a 
 preliminary trial with donkeys this afternoon." 
 
 " Your plan commends itself to me most," said Lord Mere- 
 dyth. ''I rather fancy myself on a donkey, and I am sure 
 Osborne does, don't you ? " he added to Nicholas, who had just 
 come in and taken a seat some way down the table. 
 
 "Osborne fancies himself at most times," said Lord Dawley 
 sulkily. 
 
 "Had I the advantages of a God-given complexion like 
 yours, Dawley, I certainly should," said Nicholas, without 
 looking up. 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBDINANOE. 91 
 
 " Who is going to the dance at Eosshalton to-night ? " 
 said Lord Meredyth. "I suppose we had better have the 
 coach." 
 
 " I shall go," said Lady Meredyth; "I suppose I must." 
 
 " And I shall go," said Lady Hilda. "It will be bright 
 moonlight coming home, Meredyth, and you must let me 
 drive." 
 
 " And what about you, Miss Conway ? " said Lord Meredyth, 
 turning to her. 
 
 Joanna had been looking anxiously and pleadingly in 
 Nicholas' direction, ever since the word dance had been said. 
 She wanted very badly to go. 
 
 " I don't know," she said with hesitation. 
 
 ' ' There, Nicholas, you are appealed to, " said Lady Meredyth, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 " Of course I shall do exactly as Miss Conway does," said 
 Nicholas gravely, in answer to his sister's tone more than to 
 her words. 
 
 " Very good indeed, Nick! " said Lady Hilda approvingly. 
 
 " We shall see you dance next," said Lord Meredyth, and 
 his wife added: "Lady Florence will be here in time for the 
 hunt ball." . 
 
 Nicholas and Joanna exchanged a look of amusement. 
 
 " Confound that woman ! " said Lady Hilda, under her 
 breath; "she just lives to make mischief. Poor Captain Digby- 
 G-rant, he's going to have her afternoon and evening." 
 
 " She will find it rather difficult to make mischief between 
 Nicholas and me," said Joanna proudly. 
 
 She was not at all anxious. 
 
 No fears of Lady Florence Delacqne disturbed her delight at 
 the prospect of her very first ball. Nicholas laughed at her, 
 but promised to enjoy himself if she would not insist on making 
 him dance, and she quite felt that this was all that could be 
 expected from him. 
 
 In return for her good fortune, she was almost persuaded to 
 immolate her.self by playing golf with The Beattie, instead of 
 going with Nicholas and the rest to the moor. 
 
 But Nicholas interfered, and pointed out that her duty lay 
 in coming to encourage and look after him during the donkey 
 races. 
 
 Here, too, Joanna enjoyed herself immensely. She enjoyed 
 the freedom and she enjoyed the fun, two things which she 
 had longed for all the nineteen years of her life, She galloped 
 about on her donkey, actually won a race, and was as much 
 amused as anybody when Nicholas among others came dis- 
 astrously to the ground. She galloped with the rest at mad- 
 cap pace through the streets of Merevale, to the dismay of the 
 inhabitants, and did not stop to think of rowdiness or any- 
 
92 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 thing else. It was glorious, it was intoxicating, to think there 
 was no one there to keep her in order, no one to say : "Joanna, 
 would you oblige me by going up to put your room in a state 
 less like a pig-sty? " or, " Joanna, as usual I see you are think- 
 ing of nothing but the pleasures of this world." 
 
 At Merevale nobody seemed to think of anything hut pleas- 
 ure, and though Joanna entirely declined to have anything 
 to say to whiskey and soda and cigarettes, and still jumped 
 when Lady Hilda gave vent to a somewhat startling expres- 
 sion, she was marvellously quickly getting used to it all. 
 
 But she was undoubtedly aloof from the others in a way 
 which annoyed Sir Nicholas. He would have liked to see 
 her still absolutely different from the rest, but nevertheless 
 surrounded by admirers, who would all enviously give place 
 at his good pleasure. 
 
 But instead of crowding round her, the men for the most 
 part rather ignored her, and Joanna did not care in the least. 
 Also with Lady Meredyth and her set she was an undoubted 
 outsider. Her dresses were not up to the Merevale mark, 
 being, not unnaturally, unable to compare favourably with 
 Worth and Redfern ; in fact, naturally enough she was out of 
 her element, and though Sir Nicholas admitted it to be natural 
 he did not like it. 
 
 He did not wish her to be like the rest, to tell risque stories, 
 smoke, swear, bet, and do worse, like a good many of his 
 sister's set, who had gained for Merevale the name of the fastest 
 house in the county, but still he was annoyed that she could 
 not hold her own. He had said something of the kind to her, 
 as they went up to dress for dinner and the dance, and Joanna 
 laughed, though she was a little hurt. 
 
 " How unreasonable you are, dear boy," she said, "you tell 
 me I am not to do ever so many things, that I am not to be 
 like these people or to see too much of any of them, and now 
 you don't seem to like it. You know men can't want to bother 
 themselves with an engaged girl, even if I was pretty, and 
 not countrified. I do wish my dresses were better made, and 
 that I could do you more credit, darling. " 
 
 After which there was nothing for Sir Nicholas to do but 
 to kiss her in a dark corner of the stairway, and assure her 
 that he was quite satisfied with her, — which for the moment he 
 was, — and would not have changed her in any way if he could. 
 
 Lady Hilda did her very best for Joanna that evening. She 
 made the girl try on her dress early, and brought her own 
 maid upon the scene to make a few alterations which were a 
 vast improvement ; meanwhile she gave her dancing lessons 
 in her dressing-gown, which failed to be a great success. 
 Joanna was too eager to learn, too anxious, too unpractised. 
 However, her dress looked wonderfully improved, and Lady 
 
A SELF-BENTINO OBDINANGB. 83 
 
 Hilda's maid, still to the front, did her hair for her, and then 
 Lady Hilda arranged the butterfly brooches in her liair and 
 oil her dress, and insisted on lending the girl a string of pearls 
 for her neck; felicity reached its height when, sprays of white 
 roses and maiden-hair made their appearance by Sir Nicholas' 
 orders. 
 
 "Now,'' said Lady Hilda, "I am pleased with you — content 
 — satisfied. Those flowers are a very good finishing touch, 
 and in the line of flowers, I must say Nick knows what he's 
 about." 
 
 " Yes, he used to send Lady Florence Delacque a bunch of 
 violets every day all through the winter, didn't he? " said 
 Joanna, laughing from pure lightness of heart. 
 
 " Go and look at yourself in the glass, while I fly to dress," 
 said Lady Hilda ; "I shall be late as it is." 
 
 "I laid your dress ready an hour past, my lady," said 
 the maid, who did not approve of this trouble expended over 
 extraneous young women who had no maids of their own. 
 
 Joanna went over to the glass, and scarcely recognized 
 herself. 
 
 Was she this girl with shining eyes and a pretty colour, 
 with hair done as she had never worn it before, and a white 
 dress which had almost lost its home-made appearance? 
 When she was' alone she positively danced through the room 
 in her delight. What would Nicholas think of this transfor- 
 mation scene? 
 
 What Nicholas thought she very soon discovered, as he 
 overtook her on the stairs, and caught her in his arms, oblivi- 
 ous of the danger of crushing her dress or of being seen by 
 some of the rest. He also took her in to dinner, and made 
 her perfectly happy. 
 
 As for Lady Hilda, she made a very hasty toilet, and was 
 extremely late for dinner. 
 
 Joanna was absolutely the first to reach the little sitting- 
 room where the dance party had agreed to assemble, and was 
 having a little private practice of the unconquerable valse 
 when Lord Meredyth sauntered in. 
 
 "Hallo !" he said, laughing, "have you begun to dance 
 already ? " 
 
 " It is my only trouble," said Joanna, with a sigh ; "I can- 
 not learn to dance. I practised at home with a chair every 
 evening after I heard I was to come here, and Lady Hilda has 
 been trying to teach me, but it is all no use." She ended with 
 a sigh. 
 
 " Wait till you get into the ballroom, and hear the music,'' 
 said Lord Meredyth encouragingly ; " you have no idea what 
 a difference that will make." 
 
 " Do you think so ?" said Joanna. " I used to make Polly 
 7 
 
94 A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 play,— that is my little niece,— but she only knew ' The March 
 of the Men of Harlech,' and that was not very good to dance 
 to." 
 
 " I shouldn't think so," Lord Meredyth agreed. 
 
 "But you see, it will be so discouraging for my first 
 partner," said Joanna. "Lady Hilda says tiiat I jib, and I 
 shall do it worse, I know, when I am nervous ; and then 
 Nicholas won't like it if I don't get people to dance with." 
 
 "Never fear, you will get plenty," Lord Meredyth said, 
 "and I am so sure of it," he added good-naturedly, "that I 
 want to lay claim to some dances before we start." 
 
 In saying which he was really very kind, as he did not 
 think Joanna's account of herself as a partner sounded par- 
 ticularly promising, and he took no great interest in her 
 personally. 
 
 " Oh," said she, flushing very red, " you must not think I 
 was Ashing for you to ask me to dance." 
 
 " My dear Miss Conway, if you knew me a little better you 
 would know that fishing never answers with me," said Lord 
 Meredyth. " I ask you to dance because I really want very 
 mucti to dance with you." 
 
 ' ' Oh, thank you ! but I am afraid you don't know what you 
 are letting yourself in for," said Joanna discouragingly. 
 
 " Am I to conclude that you won't dance with me ? " 
 
 " Oh, no 1 I should like it very much if it won't be a bother. 
 But I should advise you to have a polka ; I can manage that, 
 if you won't go bac'K wards." 
 
 "All right ! the first polka, and I shall expect some more 
 too, if you can spare them," Lord Meredyth said, and in so 
 saying, he unconsciously gained for himself Joanna's grati- 
 tude forever. It was not a very great kindness, and it was one 
 he forgot all about next day, but she never forgot it. 
 
 It was an evening to look back upon. The eight-mile drive 
 on the top of the coach beside Nicholas, the bewildering 
 entrance among crowds of strangers, which made her feel 
 quite rejoiced when she caught sight of a face from Merevale, 
 even of somebody to whom she had not spoken two words. 
 There were plenty of dances to be sat out with Sir Nicholas, 
 and plenty more to be danced. Lord Meredyth rose to the 
 occasion nobly, and complained not, though Joanna trod upon 
 his feet and pulled away from him in her nervousness. 
 
 By the end of the evening things, as far as they concerned 
 her, were going much better ; she had accomplished the jDOS de 
 quatre and the polka, and even felt herself becoming more 
 manageable in the valse. 
 
 "She is a nice little girl," Lord Meredyth said to Lady 
 Hilda as they watched her going past with a young Campbell 
 in the Guards, bumping a good deal it must be acknowledged, 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 95 
 
 " but the very last girl I could have imagined Osborne would 
 choose." 
 
 " Nick is a very good fellow in his way," said Lady Hilda, 
 "but not to be trusted the least in the world ; I am afraid that 
 poor little soul will have rather a bad time of it next week." 
 
 " Do you tliink Lady Florence " 
 
 " I know she is awfully wild with Nick, and it is not a fair 
 battle. " 
 
 "Judith says he told her it is completely over and done 
 with as regards her, and in fact was more talk the whole time 
 than anything else." 
 
 " But then Nick is such an awful liar," said Lady Hilda. 
 
 They were rather a rowdy party going back on the coach ; 
 they smoked, sang, and threw anything that came handy at 
 each other, and finally Lady Hilda and Lord Dawley, who had 
 been usefully and agreeably employed for some time in put- 
 ting hairpins down each other's necks, took it into their heads 
 to start a scrambling voyage over the seats, upon which Lord 
 Meredyth took it upon himself to interfere. He was quite 
 sufHciently employed with his four horses, which were excited 
 by the moonlight and the noise. 
 
 Joanna would have liked Lady Hilda to be a little quieter, 
 but she could not forget how much gratitude she owed her, 
 not even when she came to her room that night to regale her 
 with several stories of the evening's proceedings which she 
 would, rather not have heard. How Mrs. Kestrell had 
 developed a startling affection for Lord Dawley after supper, 
 and had to be taken home then and there by her husband in 
 an extremely unequivocal condition ; how Captain Digby- 
 Grant had announced that he was sick to death of Lady 
 Meredyth and had cut three of her dances ; and how Lord 
 G-oring had been discovered kissing Mrs. Cuming in the 
 fernery, by her husband. 
 
 "Just like a lot of servant gu-ls, only worse," Joanna 
 remarked to herself privately. 
 
 But she forgot all about that and everything else in her own 
 happiness when she was alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " We did not part as we meet, dear. 
 Well, time has his own stern cures." 
 
 On Saturday Lord Meredyth was in London all day, and 
 everybody else attended tilting at the ring on the moor. 
 
 Joanna looked on, and felt filled with pride when Nicholas 
 galloped past with the rings neatly arranged on his spear. 
 
96 A SELF-DENYING OnDINANCE. 
 
 He came out victorious after a close struggle with Captain 
 Digby-Grant, who had come over for the occasion. 
 
 The ladies' match was a failure as to pace, and, after watch- 
 ing for a little, Joanna went oif and had a good golf practice 
 with her friend The Beattie and the Campbells. In the even- 
 ing they all went up to London, and to the theatre — Joanna's 
 very first theatre. 
 
 The " Enfant Prodigue " bewildered her a little, and amused 
 her very much. She did not understand in the least when 
 Lady Hilda asked her, later on: "Well, my little iwgfe'ntte, 
 were you shocked ? " 
 
 She had seen nothing in the world to be shocked about. 
 
 It was a delightful day, ending delightfully, and she was not 
 at all disturbed when she heard Lady Meredyth say to Nich- 
 olas, as they said good night : "This time to-morrow, Nick, 
 Florence will be here." 
 
 Joanna was living in a whirl of excitement. Ballylone 
 seemed years away, and Merevale the most delightful place in 
 the world, where things were always happening. 
 
 The strangeness and alarm of the first few days had worn 
 o£f, and though Lady Meredyth did not give herself much 
 trouble to be civil, she soon found that she had practically 
 very little to do with Lady Meredyth. She was free to do 
 whatever she liked from morning to night, with nobody to ask 
 her if she had learnt her gospel or got her work ready for the 
 Zenana meeting ; and then she was in the house with Sir 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Joanna did not crave for admiration ; except for Sir Nicho- 
 las' sake she had not the smallest desire to see herself a centre 
 of attraction. She was quite content with him, with The 
 Beattie to play golf with, with Lady Hilda to admire and dis- 
 approve of, and the Campbell boys to fill up odd moments. 
 
 She had the completest and most unshakable faith in Sir 
 Nicholas. 
 
 That one episode on his return from Dublin had disturbed it, 
 but not seriously. 
 
 She was proud and delighted to see his popularity, to hear 
 him called upon for songs and to take part in everything, to 
 see that any of the ladies of the party were glad to talk with 
 him. He never neglected her, and was ready to relate to 
 her all his sweet speeches to other people, and to laugh over 
 them freely. 
 
 " If I was once to be really jealous, dear, it would be with 
 good reason, and I should never believe in you again, "she said 
 to him once. 
 
 One Sunday evening, after a day in which Joanna only 
 went to church once, taught in no Sunday-school, for the first 
 time in her life learnt neither gospel nor collect, and, instead 
 
A SELF-DENTINQ OBDINANGB. 97 
 
 of reading good books and going for a sedate walk, was 
 mounted on a quiet horse and joined Sir Nicholas, Lady Hilda 
 and the rest in a gallop over the downs, and a visit to the ken- 
 nels with Lord Meredyth afterwards — on the evening of this 
 delightful day. Lady Florence Delacque and suite, including 
 her husband, arrived. 
 
 Nicholas had been a little nervous all day — avowedly nerv- 
 ous, as far as Joanna was concerned. His last parting with 
 Lady Florence— a parting when he had completely lost his 
 head and absolutely — cried — kept coming into his mind all 
 through the day ; he had not told Joanna quite the whole 
 story of that last parting, and he hoped very sincerely that 
 Lady Florence had forgotten it. 
 
 When they got in from the moor slie had arrived, but Sir 
 Nicholas did not rush at once to greet her. Instead he car- 
 ried Joanna off to the billiard room, and they had tea brought 
 to them there, which lack of eagerness to meet her entirely 
 convinced him there was nothing to be feared. 
 
 It was Joanna who urged him to go in : " She will think it 
 so rude if you do not." 
 
 But Nicholas knew there would be a question of more than 
 rudeness in Lady Florence Delacque's opinion of him. 
 
 He went up to dress for dinner rather early, and took a little 
 more trouble than usual over his attire ; it was natural enough 
 that he should not wish an old friend think he had degen- 
 erated, however much his feeling with regard to that old 
 friend might have changed. 
 
 He threw away several ties before he had arranged one to 
 his satisfaction ; he shaved for a second time that day, which 
 was absolutely unnecessary, and he spent a considerable time 
 before his glass, arranging his moustache to his complete satis- 
 faction. 
 
 It was then he found, to his immense disgust, that his hand 
 was shaking, and decided aloud that he had been smoking too 
 much lately. 
 
 Finally he waited until he knew everybody would have 
 assembled in the drawing-room, and then sauntered very 
 slowly downstairs. He made another pause at the drawing- 
 room door, and wished he had asked Joanna to wait for him. 
 
 Then he said to himself that he was a fool, and walked decid- 
 edly into the room, with a little more manner on than usual. 
 
 Lady Florence Delacque was sitting beside Lady Meredyth, 
 with a few men grouped round them. She was rather tall and 
 very graceful ; her figure was, perhaps, rather too much devel- 
 oped; she had the clear complexion which generally goes with 
 red hair, hair which suited her very well, and twisted into 
 little curls over her forehead, and she had very dark eyes, of 
 which she knew how to make the utmost use. 
 
98 A 8ELF-BENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 London society had decided that Lady Florence was a 
 beauty two year's ago, but she was not beautiful. She was 
 pretty, and, better than that, very fascinating and attractive. 
 
 She looked up when Sir Nicholas had crossed the room and 
 stood at her side, and held out her hand with a smile. 
 
 " I am flattered to see you still remember me, Sir Nicholas," 
 she said. "No, Mr. Stanton, I know nothing about the intri- 
 cacies of the Foreign Office, and that is the very reason I asked 
 the question." 
 
 She turned away, and Sir Nicholas remained standing 
 rather awkwardly where he was. He was annoyed to know 
 that his hand had trembled when it touched Lady Florence's, 
 and that he had flushed like a boy when she spoke. 
 
 Then dinner was announced, and Lady Meredyth said : 
 " Nick, will you take in Lady Florence 3 " and, as a matter of 
 course, he had to offer his arm. 
 
 It took some little time for everybody to fall into order and 
 walk across to the dining-room, and all this time Sir Nicholas 
 and Lady Florence were absolutely silent. He racked his 
 brain for something to say that would not be too absurdly 
 inappropriate. It was impossible that lie could begin by a 
 remark upon the weather or her journey, which he would 
 have considered a stupidity had they been just introduced. 
 
 His last words to her had been : "As long as I live I shall 
 be true to you. You may change, but I never shall, and no 
 other woman shall ever be anything to me." 
 
 It was rather difficult to follow up this by hoping that it 
 had not settled down to a frost to-night to interfere witli 
 hunting, or fearing that she must have found her journey 
 from Northumberland rather tiring. 
 
 So Sir Nicholas said nothing, twisted his moustache and 
 looked appealingly at Joanna, and Lady Florence disposed of 
 her fan, gloves, and train, addressed a few remarks to her left- 
 hand neighbour, and began her dinner. 
 
 At last she broke the silence : 
 
 " Well," she said, in a low voice, " have you nothing to say 
 to me, Sir Nicholas ? Are you waiting for me to congratulate 
 you ? Pray, consider it done." 
 
 "Thanks," said he, trying to gain courage from his mous- 
 tache. 
 
 " I think you might have written to tell me," she said. 
 
 Sir Nicholas drank ofl" a glass of champagne, and felt better. 
 
 " I d— did think of it," he returned, with his stammer very 
 marked, " b— but you had never written to me since I left 
 England, so how could I tell that you cared to hear ? " 
 
 Lady Florence looked at him, and turned away to answer a 
 remark from her right-hand neighbour. 
 
 Then she said : " Let us leave it an open question which of 
 
A SELF-DEmTINO OBDINANOE. 99 
 
 us has the most to complain of. Will you point me out your 
 fiancie ? " 
 
 Sir Nicholas felt that he was getting off very easily, and his 
 spirits rose, but this last request made him a little uncomfort- 
 able again. 
 
 "Look down the opposite side of the table to your right; 
 she came in with The Beattie," he said shortly. 
 
 " That dowdy little person ? " said Lady Florence, beginning 
 to laugh. " That is the first joke I ever heard you perpetrate, 
 Nicholas, but I am not so easily taken in, and know you a 
 little better than that." 
 
 It was a mistake which would have been embarrassing in 
 the extreme if it had been unintentional, but it was very 
 intentional indeed. 
 
 Lady Florence had had Joanna ijointed out to her by offi- 
 cious friends the moment she had entered the drawing-room, 
 and she knew very well that he was not joking, nor at all in 
 the humour for joking. 
 
 She said she was so very sorry, that she hoped Sir Nicholas 
 would forgive her stupidity, when she allowed herself to be 
 convinced of her mistake. Would he introduce Miss Conway 
 to her after dinner 8 Would he tell her how the world had 
 been going with him since their parting ? 
 
 " I used to hear about you sometimes from your sister," she 
 said, " but a year is a long time, and it will be a year on the 
 28th of next month. You see I have got a pretty good 
 memory. Sir Nicholas." 
 
 And Sir Nicholas was immensely flattered. In his secret 
 heart it gratified him not a little to find that a woman of the 
 world like Lady Florence had by no means forgotten him. 
 He said to himself that he was very sorry if she still cared for 
 him, and that he would have done anything in his power to 
 prevent it, but what could he do ? 
 
 He was very grateful to her for taking things so sensibly, 
 when she could have given him a very uncomfortable time of 
 it, so grateful that he thought it was only his duty to do his 
 best to make the rest of dinner pass pleasantly to her. 
 
 But he was unreasonably annoyed with Joanna. Certainly 
 her dress did not set straight, he said to himself, as she followed 
 the rest to the door ; he must tell her, but a girl ought to look 
 after those things for herself. 
 
 "What do you think of Nicholas' latest?" said Lady 
 Meredyth in the drawing-room. 
 
 " H'm ; has she any money ? " said Lady Florence, settling 
 herself comfortably on the sofa. 
 
 " Does she look like it ? " 
 
 Lady Florence put up her long-handled eyeglass, and 
 calmly studied her rival. 
 
100 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "There's no accounting for tastes," she said, with a sVirug 
 of her extremely pretty shoulders, rather a favourite action of 
 hers. 
 
 "My idea is that Nick amused himself rather too much in 
 the wilderness, and found himself seized upon by an irate 
 father," said Lady Meredyth. 
 
 " Far be it from me to insinuate anything of the kind," Lady 
 Florence said. " How does Miss Conway get on here ?" 
 
 "Oh, she is rather a stick, but Hilda has taken her up, 
 and Meredyth too to a certain extent. He and I have just had 
 a mighty row over tlie Kestrells. He had his eyes rather 
 opened at a dance at Rosshalton on Friday, and he swears she 
 shall never set foot in the house again." 
 
 " Be thankful you have nothing worse to quarrel about than 
 that," said Lady Florence. "Do you know what my bear has 
 just decided ? that we spend the season in Northumberland 
 this year." 
 
 " You won't stand that, will you?" said Lady Meredyth. 
 " If the worst comes to the worst you could come to me " 
 
 "No, I am to remain at Enderby to learn to appreciate 
 my home, and, I suppose, to appreciate James," said Lady 
 Florence with her shrug. 
 
 "But in the meantime there is a certain great personage 
 coming on Tuesday, who counts himself very warmly of your 
 friends." 
 
 "And in the meantime still, I hear Sir Nicholas is very 
 great in Coster songs," said Lady Florence. 
 
 Whereupon she calmly walked Nicholas off to the music 
 room, where she made him sing through all his songs, which 
 were few, if select, from " Knocking in the Old Kent Road" 
 to "Daisy Bell." 
 
 Next day there was a meet. 
 
 Joanna could not go, but she got up as before to see the 
 others off, and admired Lady Florence in her smart habit very 
 frankly. 
 
 She would not have kept Nicholas at home for any con- 
 sideration, though she pictured him in different dangers all 
 day, in a way which she knew to be very foolish. 
 
 He was the best of riders, but accidents happened to every- 
 body, and Joanna's happiness made her anxious — it seemed 
 too good to last. 
 
 But physical dangers were all she was afraid of. 
 
 Nicholas enjoyed himself immensely. He gave Lady 
 Florence a lead as he had often done before, and he rode home 
 ■with her too. 
 
 Where was the harm ? She had taken his defection very 
 well, and there was no reason that they should not still be 
 friends. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 101 
 
 So he rode beside her in the dusk, and talked of other 
 runs they liad had together, and recognised old landmarks 
 along the roads, with an embarrassment whieli -was not 
 unpleasant. 
 
 When he came in, he entirely relieved his conscience by 
 telling Joanna all about it, and she was glad when he had 
 been civil, and very sorry for Lady Florence. 
 
 But in the evening Lady Florence was surrounded as usual, 
 and Joanna, also as usual, was a little out of it. 
 
 "Miss Conway looks dull," Lady Florence said, directing 
 Nicholas' attention to the fact with great show of kindness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " And nearer, nearer still, the tide 
 Of music seems to come, 
 There's something lilie a human voice, 
 And something like a drum." 
 
 "Miss Conway, may I sit next to you ?" said The Beattie in 
 his fat voice. 
 
 "Oh," said Joanna, " I am very sorry, but I have promised 
 to keep a place." 
 
 The coach had come round to the door to take a select party 
 to a charity concert in Merevale school-house, a concert which 
 was to begin at seven with a special view to the convenience 
 of the big house, and the return of its inmates in time for 
 dinner. 
 
 Joanna loved coach drives, and had looked forward to this 
 one all day. She was peering rather anxiously into the hall 
 now ; Nicholas was certainly very late. 
 
 Lord Dawley, who was not only going, but was going to 
 perform, came up to her as she stood on the steps in the dusk. 
 
 "I am going to drive," he said. 
 
 " I shall go all the same," said Joanna. "I'll take the risk." 
 
 "You think you are very funny," said Lord Dawley 
 sulkily. 
 
 They always clashed, those two; Lord Dawley never knew 
 whether Joanna was in fun or in earnest, and by way of being 
 on the right side, resented everything she said. He remarked 
 now, that if Miss Conway did not want to come, he hoped 
 she would not constrain her inclinations on his account, 
 and she asked him if he could tell her what was the difference 
 between being funny and being rude. 
 
 Lord Dawley said that he never could guess riddles, in his 
 most sullen tone, and Joanna was beginning an ironical speech 
 when Lord Meredyth came over and interrupted them. 
 
102 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " It is time to start," he said. " Are you going to give Miss 
 Conway the box-seat, Dawley ? " 
 
 " Oh, no I " they both said in a breath, with such eagerness 
 that Lord Meredyth laughed, as he helped Joanna to an 
 humbler place. 
 
 "Is everybody here?" he said, standing on the step, 
 "Campbell, are you ready with a good blast — you have the 
 horn 2 " . 
 
 " Oh, no," said Joanna anxiously, " everybody hasn't come 
 
 yet." 
 
 " If you are keeping that seat for Osborne, he is not com- 
 ing," shouted Lord Dawley from the driving-seat, "I saw 
 him in the billiard room with Lady Florence not ten minutes 
 ago." 
 
 "Miss Conway kept the seat for me, very kindly," said 
 Lord Meredyth, with audacious disregard of truth. " Dawley, 
 you might just as well prevent that right leader from coming 
 up into the coach, and let us be off." 
 
 He swung himself up beside Joanna. The Campbells exe- 
 cuted some elaborate flourishes upon the horn, and they were 
 off". 
 
 But the drive was spoilt for Joanna, pleasant though Lord 
 Meredyth was. 
 
 Lord Dawley's style of driving was more dashing than re- 
 assuring to those under his care, but he brought them safely 
 to the school-house after once drawing up with his leaders' 
 noses touching a cart which barred his way, and twice shav- 
 ing so narrowly round corners that the coach swung over in 
 a way which very nearly upset its balance. 
 
 "I'll drive back, Dawley, if you don't mind," said Lord 
 Meredyth mildly, after lie had recovered from the abruptness 
 of their stop, which shook them all out of their seats. 
 
 Then they found that David Campbell's violin had been 
 forgotten, and after everybody had accused everybody else of 
 having forgotten it, and a groom had been sent back for it, 
 they all rattled up the concert room, in the middle of a song, 
 to the seats that had been reserved for them. 
 
 They settled down with a great deal of whispering and 
 laughing, and with the attention of the whole audience con- 
 centrated upon them. 
 
 The unfortunate singer finished his song without being 
 attended to by anybody but Joanna, who felt quite miserable 
 about him, and longed to have courage to support the stray 
 plaudits, which were vouchsafed to him. 
 
 She had got a seat next The Beattie, and Lord Meredyth, 
 who had come in later than the rest, took the only vacant 
 chair on the other side of hers. 
 
 There was a pause, while somebody came down to ask if 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 103 
 
 Lord Dawley and the Campbells, who were to perform, would 
 not come on the platform, an honour which they declined with 
 more energy than politeness. 
 
 Then came a very nervous girl, who held her music in front 
 of her face and whispered, coming to a miserable pause when 
 somebody in the audience shouted : " Sing up ! " 
 
 Through her song The Beattie talked steadily to Joanna, to 
 her extreme distress, and Lord Dawley said : " A decent 
 looking girl enough if she would let one have a fair sight of 
 her face," so loud, that Joanna, who was sitting quite at the 
 opposite end of the row, heard him distinctly. 
 
 Then came three young men, in dark coats and very light 
 trowsers, who sang : " A Little Farm Well Tilled," and broke 
 down and went into fits of laughter in the middle, to the 
 extreme delight of the audience. They made two efforts to 
 begin again, but were always overcome with amusement 
 before they got halfway through, and had to retire amidst 
 furious applause. 
 
 The Campbell twins' violin and 'cello duet ought to have 
 come next, but there was no sign of David's violin, though 
 somebody had been sent to the door in the middle of the 
 " Little Farm " to see, and a pause ensued. 
 
 Lady Meredyth sent a whisper down the line that Lord 
 Dawley had better take his song now, but he did not seem to 
 see it. 
 
 The audience began to get impatient, and the platform per- 
 formers very unhappy. The manager went from one to the 
 other, but no one seemed inclined to anticipate his or her per- 
 formance. 
 
 Finally Lord Dawley became the exceedingly ill-tempered 
 victim, and allowed himself to be conducted on to the plat- 
 form. 
 
 Then a leaf out of the particular song he wished to sing was 
 missing, and had to be hunted for. Lord Dawley was greatly 
 perturbed, but he declined to be persuaded to sing anything 
 else, and finally it was discovered under his chair. 
 
 Upon which he faced the audience, very red and furious, 
 and the chairman said that owing to an unforeseen delay the 
 Honourable Messrs. Campbell were unable to perform until 
 later in the evening, but that Lord Dawley had most kindly 
 taken their place. His Lordship was about to give them a 
 treat by singing • "Absent yet Present " in his well-known 
 style. 
 
 Meanwhile the Merevale house party were amusing them- 
 selves by deluging the unhappy Lord Dawley with paper 
 pellets. 
 
 " Don't sing that old thing," said Lady Meredyth. 
 
 " Pull youreelf together, and don't look as if you were going 
 
104 A 8ELF-DEN7ING ORDINANCE. 
 
 to be hung," said David Campbell, the delinquent, getting a 
 scowl in return. 
 
 Then the climax was reached by a false start, which made 
 the accompanist almost as nervous as the performer, and 
 which Lord Dawley's own particular party applauded 
 vociferously. 
 
 " We had better begin again," said Lord Dawley sourly. 
 
 This time he was totally demoralised, but kept on losing his 
 place, and trying back amidst furious applause. 
 
 "I see thee, I hear thee, I feel th^ embrace 1" he sang 
 without any fervour whatever, and with a scowl upon liis 
 pink-and-white boyish face. "You are two bars ahead of 
 me ! " in a furious whisper to the accompanist. 
 
 "It is a great mercy for the young woman that she was 
 absent," said Kennetli Campbell in a perfectly audible under- 
 tone. 
 
 Finally singer and accompanist came to utter grief towards 
 the end, and Lord Dawley broke down entirely, while Joanna 
 forgave him everything and almost hated her friends the 
 Campbells. It was all very well for them; they did not 
 know what it was to be nervous. 
 
 Everybody lauglied a great deal, and several Merevale 
 house ladies threw bouquets to Lord Dawley, who kicked them 
 disgustedly aside as he left the platform. 
 
 "By Jove, I never knew that was a comic song before 1 " 
 said David Campbell. 
 
 "You certainly did give us a treat, Dawley 1 " said Lady 
 Meredyth. 
 
 The unfortunate youth, who really had a very good voice, 
 had no resource save to beat an abrupt retreat. 
 
 Next came a recitation of " The Arab and his Steed" by the 
 village schoolmaster, wliicli was interrupted in the middle 
 by the arrival of tlie long-lost violin. 
 
 However, tliere was an encore, due perhaps more to the 
 personality of the reciter than to the extreme novelty or good 
 delivery of his recitation, which was given with more mark- 
 ing of the ends of the lines than of anything else. 
 
 He gave " Papa's Letter " as an encore, which he evidently 
 had not learned so well, and during which he was obliged to 
 have recourse to the prompter at the most pathetic moments. 
 
 The Campbells' duet went off without any hitches, and in 
 the middle of the next song it occurred to Lady Meredyth that 
 it was time to go, and she leaned over to her husband and 
 asked for the time with the utmost disregard of the performer. 
 
 " Get your wraps together," she said. " We must go after 
 this man has brought liis performance to an end." 
 
 " Have you got the 'cello part as well as your own, David ? " 
 said Kenneth Campbell across a dozen people. 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBDINANCE. 105 
 
 " You must let me have the seat beside you coming home," 
 said The Beattie, getting so close to Joanna's ear that his 
 breathing tickled it. 
 
 "Oh, hush !"she said in distress, and then the song came 
 to an end and there was a full stop while the Merevale house 
 party made their exit, and a few spectators who wished to be 
 fashionable followed their example. 
 
 " Now for my seat," said The Beattie. 
 
 " If you don't think you had better go inside," said Joanna 
 in all kindness. "It is all very well up there when people 
 are young." 
 
 Whereat The Beattie laughed uncomfortably, and nearly 
 broke his neck in trying to show his activity by swinging 
 himself up like Lord Meredyth. 
 
 After which he got closer and closer to Joanna, breathing 
 hard all the time, and ended up, to her unbounded amaze- 
 ment, by trying to kiss her in the dark. 
 
 She had been in rather low spirits all evening, but this had 
 the effect of making her feel absolutely sick. 
 
 Even Lord Dawley, who had not expressed any wish to 
 drive home, and had taken a very back seat, was infinitely 
 preferable as a neighbour to this hot, fat, horrible old man. 
 
 As for Nicholas, he took her in to dinner, and said he was 
 very sorry, but he had totally forgotten about the concert. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " ' But I,' he replied, ' have promised another, when love was free, 
 To love her alone, alone, who alone and afar loves me.' 
 ' Why that,' she said, 'is no reason. 
 
 Love's always free, I'm told. 
 Will you vow to be safe from the headache on Tuesday, 
 
 And think it wiU hold ? ' " 
 
 One after another, people took it upon themselves to say or 
 hint to Nicholas that he was throwing himself away, till he 
 began secretly to think so himself. He liked all his belong- 
 ings to be of the very best, and he was very much subject to 
 outside influence. Many a time and oft had a possession of 
 his, of which he had thought very highly, known a sudden 
 fall in his estimation owing to the different opinion of some- 
 body else. 
 
 He wished himself and all that concerned him to be uni- 
 versally admired and envied, which was unfortunate, as his 
 wishes were never likely to be fulfilled. Hence he had 
 moments of great elation, and others of quite as deep de- 
 pression, and it depressed him in the extreme that everybody 
 at Merevale did not admire Joanna. 
 
106 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Lady Florence was one of the people who hinted. She 
 always spoke of Joanna in the kindest manner, calling her 
 " poor little thing " or " a good little soul," in a pitying tone 
 whicli was worse to Nicholas than anything. 
 
 Lady Meredyth spoke out plainly. " I really did think you 
 liad cut your wisdom teeth, Nick," she said. " Miss Conway 
 is a very good girl, I don't doubt, but not of our class " 
 
 "She is a lacfy," broke in Nicholas. 
 
 " Yes, I daresay. So are a good many girls it is not advis- 
 able to marry. Of course it is no business of mine, and you 
 are quite right to marry her, if you like her, and have found 
 a way to live without money and society. I should think she 
 would make a capital wife if you intend to live at Ballylone." 
 
 Nicholas shuddered. Ballylone possessed no attractions for 
 him. 
 
 To Lady Florence Lady Meredyth said casually one day: 
 "You would be doing Ivfick a kindness if you would put a 
 stop to that absurd entanglement of his." But Lady Florence 
 only laughed. 
 
 In truth, Sir Nicholas' engagement did more than annoy 
 her ; it wounded and disturbed ner in a way which she would 
 not have thought possible in the days when he was utterly 
 devoted to her, and she laughed at him, liked him, and found 
 him useful. 
 
 She took a little extra trouble now to flatter him and other- 
 wise make herself agreeable to him, and Nicholas could be 
 influenced only too easily through his vanity. 
 
 The great personage who had been spolcen of by Lady 
 Meredyth came to Merevale, and joined Lady Florence's train 
 of admirers most openly, and it flattered Sir Nicholas' absurd 
 conceit to know that she was always glad when it was possible 
 to throw aside the Prince for him. 
 
 But in justice to him be it said, he had not as yet the least 
 idea of treating Joanna badly. For one thing, he really loved 
 her in a way which had nothing to say to his occasional, pas- 
 sionate admiration for Lady Florence, and for another, any 
 steady ideas of honour wliich Nicholas Osborne did possess 
 held him to the girl who trusted him as no one else in the 
 world did. 
 
 As for Joanna, she had not one single doubt or fear — not 
 even in the long days when Sir Nicholas and Lady Flor- 
 ence among the rest went out hunting, and she was left at 
 home. 
 
 A quite new happiness had been introduced into her life, 
 thanks to Lord Mieredyth, which filled up hunting days and 
 all odd moments. 
 
 He had found her one day sitting on the floor in the music 
 room, laboriously carving a very hard bit of wood in imita- 
 
A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 107 
 
 tion of one of the panels of the door, and perfectly happy and 
 content. 
 
 Nicholas came into Joanna's cai'ving, as he came into every 
 other concern or thought of her life. Her wild dreams of 
 success some day were all for him. 
 
 She was delighted when she found that Lord Meredyth 
 could give her hints, and still more delighted when he 
 made her a present of some tools, and arranged for a Windsor 
 master to give her a few lessons on hunting days, to pay for 
 which part of her treasured five pounds went gladly. 
 
 So she was perfectly happy. 
 
 It was Lady Hilda who was most displeased with the state 
 of afPairs, and who took upon herself to try to open Joanna's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Don't be a little fool, Jo," she said one day, when she was 
 sitting on Joanna's bed eating chocolates, while her hostess 
 was happily carving a group of lilies, which she had begged 
 from the gardener, with Lord Mei-edyth's support. "Open 
 your eyes, my child, and in case of accidents, cease to be 
 uncivil to Lord Dawley." 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? " said Joanna, beginning 
 upon her second lily. 
 
 " It's as plain as a pikestaff that Floj-ence is doing her best 
 to get Nick back, and if you don't take good care she will 
 succeed," said Lady Hilda, shaking the chocolate box to briug 
 one of a kind she particulai-ly appreciated to the top. " Take 
 my advice, and get homesick, and make him take you back to 
 Ireland. Believe me, I know Nick." 
 
 Joanna's hand slipped and she cut through the lily's stalk. 
 But she answered steadily and quite lightly : 
 
 " I surely ought to know him best, and you may believe me 
 when I tell you that I can trust him entirely." 
 
 " Of course you can, if you like, but if you take my advice, 
 you won't," said Lady Hilda. "At any i-ate, to please me, 
 have a chocolate and be civil to Lord Dawley." 
 
 Joanna laughed; she had been startled, but only for the 
 first moment. Nicholas untrue to her ? It was ridiculous, 
 absui-d, impossible! 
 
 " I wish you hadn't made me jump and cut thi-ough this 
 stalk," she said, " and as for Lord Dawley. he hates me." 
 
 "He might change that," said Lady Hilda tranquilly. 
 
 " Well, I can't say I think he would be a good exchange,'' 
 said Joanna. "Hilda, you can't deny that he is an absolute 
 fool ? " 
 
 "He'll be just as good as Nick twenty years hence, perhaps 
 better, for Nick may be fat. He is all very weU now, but he 
 won't be a nice old man." 
 
 " You really must not speak to me like that," said Joanna. 
 
108 A SELF-DENYma ORDINANCE. 
 
 "I am very bold," said Lady Hilda drily. "Can't you 
 yourself see Nick a fat, selfish old man like Beattie, looking 
 forward to his dinner all day, and trying to flirt with girls 
 who laugh at him for his pains ? " 
 
 Joanna carved in indignant silence, but Lady Hilda was 
 not easily suppressed. 
 
 " Well, if you don't object to the picture I have drawn," 
 she said, "why not keep The Beattie as a second string ? I 
 couldn't myself, but that's purely a matter of taste." 
 
 Joanna laughed in spite of herself. 
 
 " Haven't you any matchmaking of your own to attend to, 
 my dear Hilda ? " she said. 
 
 " Which speech in plain English is equivalent to— mind 
 your own business," said Lady Hilda. "There, take the 
 chocolate box. If I eat any more I shall be ill. Well, you 
 cross child, I was engaged once, for exactly a week." 
 
 Joanna was interested at once, ready to sympathise, to Bud 
 an excuse for all her friend's present oddities. 
 
 " How was it broken off ? " she said. 
 
 "Well," said Lady Hilda, lolling comfortably on the bed, 
 with a good deal of terra-cotta stocking and white petticoat 
 visible. "J said that before we were married my fianoi 
 must drop a pretty little establishment at St. John's Wood, 
 and everybody else said it was scandalous of a girl like me to 
 know anything about such things. But the chief point," with 
 a short laugh, " is what he said, and that was that he — 
 wouldn't. So he keeps his chk-e ainie and I keep my liberty. 
 If you don't understand. Miss Joanna, ask no questions." 
 
 But Joanna did understand ; understood, too, that there was 
 hurt pride, if not hurt affection, in Lady Hilda's voice. 
 
 She forgave her for her thoughts of Nicholas, and they 
 broup;ht her no doubt, no doubt at all, till one evening a sort 
 of crisis came. 
 
 Skirt dancing was the order of the night, and Lady 
 Florence was one of the performers. Nicholas had never 
 seen her look so pretty, so exciting, so disturbing. The 
 applause which was given to the four performers seemed to 
 belong only to her, and he hated the Prince when the latter 
 drew Lady Florence aside to compliment her apparently more 
 warmly than was at all necessary. 
 
 Then came wild games, during which everybody grew very 
 hot and excited, and the climax came when Nicholas, who 
 had never lost siglit of Lady Florence, pursued her down 
 a passage in the upstairs regions, and caught her, hot and 
 breathless, in his arms. 
 
 There was nobody there but themselves. Lady Florence's 
 dress, which was low enough without any disarrangement, 
 was a little disturbed and pulled about, and Sir Nicholas had 
 
A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 109 
 
 had quite enough champagne to excite him without anything 
 else. 
 
 She struggled with him at first, and he held her closer and 
 more passionately. 
 
 Everything was forgotten — Joanna was forgotten — honour 
 was forgotten. 
 
 But it was different next morning, when Joanna came to 
 him, doubting nothing, and putting up her fresh girlish face to 
 be kissed, and Sir Nicholas felt himself a brute and a villain. 
 
 He could have rushed forward and pulled her away from 
 Lady Florence when she went to shake hands with her and 
 wish her good morning. 
 
 Consequently, as he exceedingly disliked feeling not at 
 peace with himself, he took the first opportunity of trying to 
 transfer the burden to Joanna's shoulders. 
 
 He took her out with him, and they found a sheltered cor- 
 ner by the river, where there was a seat under the trees, and 
 there, overcoming a certain feeling of reluctance, Nicholas 
 took Joanna on his knee, and kissed her, and asked her if 
 she was quite sure she loved him, and then put her away 
 from him, taking her hand, and looking out to the river in 
 a silence which lasted some minutes. 
 
 What was this thing he was going to do ? A thing which, once 
 done, neither he nor anybody else could ever undo. To open 
 Joanna's eyes — to teach her to know good and evil — was it a 
 wicked thing, a thing which he would repent of all his life long ? 
 
 He was doing it because he wanted somebody to excuse him 
 to himself, to reinstate him in his own good opinion ; but he 
 repeated to himself, with unnecessary fervour, that he was 
 doing it because it was right for her to know. 
 
 Joanna was very happy, very glad at the thought of having 
 Nicholas to hereelf for a whole morning, and very sure that 
 she could soon soothe away whatever trouble was betokened 
 by his manner. 
 
 "Joanna," said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 Nothing was done yet; there was still time to pause, still 
 time to wonder if she would ever look at him again with that 
 complete trust in her brown eyes. 
 
 "Joanna," he said again, "you know that when most fel- 
 lows get engaged, whatever sort of life they may have led 
 before, they make certain resolutions." 
 
 "Yes, dear," said Joanna vaguely. 
 
 " Well," he went on, with much embarrassment, and his 
 head turned away, "if a man — through a mistake — or — or — 
 well, if he found he had broken through these resolutions — 
 do you think he should tell the girl ? " 
 
 " Dear boy, don't be so imperaonal and confusing," said 
 8 
 
110 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Joanna, vaguely anxious. " If you break through any reso- 
 lution you have made, I hope you will tell me, but 1 don't 
 know about other girls." 
 
 "Darling, I have," said he gravely, "broken through a 
 resolution and wronged you, and I want to make you a con- 
 fession. But first, whatever it is that I have to say, will you 
 kiss me, my sweetheart ? " 
 
 Joanna put her arms round his neck, without one moment's 
 hesitation, thereby making his tale all the harder to tell. 
 
 " Can't you guess — can't you guess at all, little one, what I 
 have to tell you ? " he said, and to his surprise she answered 
 unhesitatingly: " I tliinlc I can dear, and, perhaps, I shall not 
 mind it so very much as you think." 
 
 The answer was not in the least what he had expected, and 
 undoubtedly gave him a shock. He wanted her to mind, and 
 to mind very much indeed. 
 
 " Do you mean that you guess what I was going to tell you, 
 and that you do not mind ? " he said shortly. 
 
 " Not that, dear. I do mind," said Joanna gently; "but, 
 after all, as long as you are true to me in your heart I can for- 
 give it — almost easily." 
 
 " Upon my word, Joanna," said he, sitting up very straight, 
 ' ' I had not the smallest idea that you were one of the advanced 
 young women of the present day." 
 
 Poor Joanna was completely bewildered. " Don't you want 
 me to forgive you, dear ? " she said. 
 
 " Of course I am delighted," said Sir Nicholas, more coldly 
 than he had ever spoken so her. " Look liere, child; do you 
 seriously mean that as long as my heart, as you say, is true to 
 you, you don't care a straw what I do 9 " 
 
 " Perhaps I haven't guessed riglit," said Joanna in dismay; 
 "but what I meant, dearest, was this : that while you love 
 me and are sorry, I could forgive you even for brealcmg your 
 promise to me and kissing some other girl — which I suppose 
 you mean, but I don't say, darling, that it doesn't vex me a 
 little, though I know in this hou.se " 
 
 " You could forgive me for kissing some other girl,'' said Sir 
 Nicholas, looking at her very oddly. " God bless you, my 
 little innocent sweetheart 1 " 
 
 But it would have been better for him, better, perhaps, too, 
 for her, if she had been able to understand liim. 
 
 But for the moment the whole warmth of his love for her 
 had come back, and he felt that she was his one hope of being 
 a better man. 
 
 "But the fact is, darling," he said, a little later, "Lady 
 Florence has a kind of effect upon me " 
 
 " Then it was Lady Florence that you kissed ? " said Joanna, 
 with for the very first time a small feeling of pain and jealousy. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. HI 
 
 Slie was sure, as sure as an uncharitable little girl of nineteen 
 could be, that it was Lady Florence's fault. 
 
 " Yes, it was Lady Florence that I — kissed," said he, " and, 
 darling, it is true enough that I had better keep clear of her." 
 
 There was a queer pain in Joanna's heart ; an uneasy feel- 
 ing, as if the whole world was changing to her. 
 
 " Don't look at me like that, my child," he said. " I have 
 not changed to you. You couldn't understand, my sweet, 
 thank God, the feeling that I have for her. Won't you look 
 after me and keep me straight ? " 
 
 " Nicholas," said Joanna in a very low voice, " I love you 
 so well that if Lady Florence were not a married woman I 
 could give you up to her easily, but ^" 
 
 " Not another word, Joanna," said Sir Nicholas quickly. 
 " There is nobody in the world but you that I care two straws 
 about, and I wouldn't let you give me up if you wanted to. 
 Try as much as you like, you shall never be free from me ! " 
 
 At which she gladly drew closer to him, and was made to 
 promise faithfulness all over again, and under that tree by the 
 river all their old promises were made over again, till Sir 
 Nicholas felt and said that there was no danger to him from 
 Lady Florence. 
 
 His present sole anxiety was to many Joanna at once, and 
 he was twice as impatient and eager as he had ever been before. 
 He would have been willing for any sacrifice which should at 
 once enable him to marry. But there was no such immediate 
 road to fortune. 
 
 Meredyth's offered agency was a year away, and the China 
 plan, if it came to anything, meant that he could not bring 
 Joanna out for some time. 
 
 He told her all his impatience, and before they parted, 
 having done all he could to shake her trust, he made her 
 promise to trust him absolutely. 
 
 And Joanna promised, meaning to keep her promise. 
 
 After which they said to themselves and each other that 
 they were closer together than ever, and refused to recognise 
 the vague something which had come between them. 
 
 Joanna had promised to trust him, when he had himself 
 told her that he was not to be trusted, and Sir Nicholas vaguely 
 felt that she had changed to him ever so little. 
 
 He was not at peace with himself when he was with her, 
 annoyed by a certain tiresome feeling of guilt, and the con- 
 sciousness that there was ever such a small flaw in her perfect 
 belief in him. 
 
 From which an unacknowledged irritation grew up between 
 them, which was very slight and often barely perceptible. 
 
 Tliere are some breakages which, be they ever so slight, can 
 never be entix-ely mended again. 
 
112 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " Do not blame me if I doubt thee j 
 
 I can call love by its name 
 Wlien thine arm is wrapt about me, 
 
 But even love seems not tlie same 
 When I sit alone without thee." 
 
 " Why so sad, oh, Joanna ? Why this mournful counte- 
 nance, my worthy Jo ?" 
 
 "I have nothing' to weai* for the Hunt ball, and I have got 
 a horrible cold in my head," said Joanna disconsolately. 
 
 She was sitting in the middle of the room, dismally survey- 
 ing an array of wrecked dresses deposited limply on different 
 chairs. 
 
 "I haven't got a single handkerchief left," said she dis- 
 mally. 
 
 " Come, I can remedy that, at least," said Lady Hilda, pat- 
 ting her on the back with more goodwill than advantage, 
 ' ' and as for your next trouble " 
 
 "Don't those dresses look awfully shabby," said Joanna, 
 theatrically waving her hand towards them. "Do you think 
 if I did — something — to that white striped thing I could wear 
 it ! Oh, Hilda, give me your advice." 
 
 " I should be ungrateful if I didn't when you are so prodigal 
 in advice to me," said Lady Hilda amiably. " If you take my 
 advice, you miserable little object— but I know you won't — 
 you will stay at home." 
 
 " Oh," said Joanna in dismay, " stay at home ! " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, stay at home, and in your room," said Lady 
 Hilda unrelentingly. " What do you want at a ball, I should 
 like to know, witli a red nose and watery eyes, and a tendency 
 to sneeze every five minutes ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Joanna, "I couldn't stay at home, Hilda. I am 
 to dance the first valse with Mr. Campbell, and then Nich- 
 olas " 
 
 "Well, Nicholas !" said Lady Hilda. "Go and look at 
 yourself in the glass, and then see if you think Nicholas can 
 admire you. You'll do the wisest thing you ever did in your 
 liCe by staying at home, but I am sure I don't know why I am 
 wasting my breath, fori know you won't do it." 
 
 "It is ridiculous to talk like that, Hilda," said Joanna 
 sharply. " If Nicholas can't put up with me with a cold, it is a 
 very bad lookout for when we are married, for I am always 
 having colds." 
 
 " Very well," said Lady Hilda. " ' He that will to Cupar, 
 maun to Cupar,' to quote your friends, the Campbells. But I 
 assure you no man likes to be sneezed at, even literally. I will 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 113 
 
 send you in my carbolic smoke ball, and for God's sake, 
 powder your nose ! That's all I can do for to-day, but if you 
 are determined to go to the ball to-morrow — are you ? " 
 
 " Well, if you think I could make that dress at all decent ? " 
 
 "If go you must, you can do me a favour. You remember 
 that blue and silver stuff I showed you the other day ? Well, 
 I am at my wits' end to know what to do with it ; it doesn't 
 suit me and it won't suit you, but if you think you could do 
 with it, my maid could easily run it up upon one of your 
 foundations." 
 
 "Oh, Hilda, I can't " began Joanna, when she was stopped 
 
 by an outbreak of sneezing, in the middle of which Hilda ran 
 out of the room, banging the door as usual after her. 
 
 Consequently, Lady Hilda was not a little annoyed when 
 she found Sir Nicholas and Lady Florence suspiciously close 
 together on the stairs, and when he went away she broke out 
 hotly to her sister. 
 
 "Can't you leave that conceited young fool alone, Flor- 
 ence ? " she said ; " upon my word his airs make me sick." 
 
 " What on earth does it matter to you ? " said Lady Flor- 
 ence roughly. 
 
 " It matters to me that you and Judith are doing your d d 
 
 best to make that little Miss Conway miserable," said Lady 
 Hilda with more energy than elegance. " Can't I seehow you 
 are turning Nick's very silly head, and making him a still 
 greater fool than Providence was able to do ? Can't I see you 
 this evening, taking care to look your best, and to put your- 
 sell where he can't help comparing you with that unfortunate 
 little girl, with her home-made frocks, and her face swelled 
 with cold." 
 
 Lady Florence laughed. "The picture sounds enticing," 
 she said, "but look here, Hilda, this 1 say and stick to. If you 
 can get James to let me go up to town for the season as usual, 
 I will let Nick go back to tlie little Irishwoman, but if I am 
 left to find amusement for myself, find it I will." 
 
 "You know perfectly well that I have no influence with 
 James," said Lady Hilda shortly. " And we both know of a 
 little incident when Judith was a girl, which could make me 
 able to stop her troubling anybody, only that she knows that 
 I will never speak for Meredyth's sake — the best, truest, most 
 honest mih I know." 
 
 "Oh, everybody knows your opinion of Lord Meredyth," 
 said Lady Florence with a sneer. 
 
 " How dare you speak to me like that ! " cried Lady Hilda, 
 flying away, to try to forget all about Joanna and her 
 troubles in a saunter through the kennels with Lord Meredyth. 
 
 Lady Hilda liked to go among the hounds and have them 
 all round her ; she took an interest in all that concerned 
 
114 A SELF-DENTma ORDINANCE. 
 
 them, and did not object to enter into breeding details with 
 the huntsman. 
 
 It was clear she could do nothing for Joanna, so what was 
 the good of woi'ryiug over it ? 
 
 So things went on as usual, and Nicholas appeased his con- 
 science by giving Joanna presents, paid for out of his winnings 
 at cards. 
 
 That same evening they had a small dispute about Lady 
 Hilda herself. 
 
 "She is the only woman in the house that I care about," 
 said Joanna. 
 
 " There's not a pin to choose between her and the rest," said 
 Sir Nicholas. " If you heard the fellows talk about her in the 
 smoking room at night." 
 
 " The more shame for them," said Joanna sturdily. 
 
 "If you had heard The Beattie's tale last night, about a house 
 she stayed at in Scotland, where she borrowed a man's kilt, 
 and went out shooting with him all day in it." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," said Joanna. "What did 
 the man wear, then ? " 
 
 " Don't be absurd, my dear child," said Sir Nicholas, kiss- 
 ing her, but speaking rather crossly nevertheless. 
 
 " We are not going to quarrel over Lady Hilda, you and I, 
 are we ? " said Joanna softly. 
 
 " No, darling, not over anything," said Sir Nicholas, with a 
 tenderness which was a little forced. 
 
 " I know I am cross, dear," Joanna said apologetically. "I 
 can't think what makes me feel so irritated. You are as nice 
 as possible, but somehow I feel as if you were rubbing me up 
 the wrong way." 
 
 And for his part, Nicholas wondered if it was because she 
 had a cold in her head he felt so little inclined to make love to 
 her this evening. 
 
 Then with compunction he said : " You won't be able to go 
 out to-morrow, my pet, and it will be dull for you. Would 
 you like me not to go to the meet, and to stay at home to keep 
 you company ? " 
 
 " And lose your day's hunting ? " said Joanna. " Oh, not 
 for the world, dear." 
 
 "And yet it might be the best thing that could happen to 
 me," he returned gravely. * 
 
 But when she ceased to press him to go, he was annoyed in 
 turn, and with great inconsistency. 
 
 "Can't you trust me, then J "he said. "You who have 
 promised to trust me. If you lose faith in me, it will be a bad 
 day for me, Joanna." 
 
 " Aren't you a little unreasonable, dear ? " said Joanna with 
 a sigh. 
 
A 8ELF-BENTIN0 ORDINANCE. 115 
 
 It was the same with this as it had heen before with gam- 
 bhng. She was to promise to take care of him and to guard 
 him, and then, if she interfered, he was very much annoyed. 
 
 In the spur of his indignation he went off to look for Lady 
 Florence. 
 
 "Where is your sister ?" he said to Lady Hilda, whom he 
 met on her way back from the kennels. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said Lady Hilda, in no amiable 
 tone, " but if it is any satisfaction to you to know, I should 
 like to take you and Florence and knock your silly heads 
 together." 
 
 Which was a remarkably rude speech, even from Lady 
 Hilda. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 '"Is it BO?' 
 / I said, . . . ' is the world so bad ? 
 
 While I hear nothing of it through tlie trees ; 
 The world was always evil — but so bad ? ' " 
 
 A LONG day in the house with a cold in the head, when 
 everybody else is out, enjoying him or herself, is not exactly 
 lively. 
 
 Joanna took every remedy suggested to her ; she nearly 
 sneezed herself away over the carbolic smoke-ball, she drank 
 sal-volatile, and various home-made decoctions, and she re- 
 frained from water till she almost choked — all in hope of 
 being well for the ball in the evening. She did not .feel in- 
 clined to read or to write, or even to carve; she made up her 
 mind to go to the ball and to stay at home several times an 
 hour, and not even the sight of the blue and silver, rapidly 
 coming into shape under the clever fingers of Lady Hilda's 
 maid, was sufficient to cheer her. A long, admonitory letter 
 from Mrs. Conway by the afternoon post completed her 
 depression. 
 
 Mrs. Conway hoped that Joanna was careful to read the 
 lessons every day, that she remembered that the devil was 
 a ravening lion, going about seeking what he could devour, 
 and that he had special opportunities in a house and among 
 people given solely to society. She hoped her daughter was 
 not neglectful of a word in season, and that she was ever mind- 
 ful that the pleasuresof thisworld are vain and fleeting. Also 
 she might remember that Lord Meredyth had a good deal of 
 property in Ireland, and that his present agent was going to 
 Australia at the end of the year. If she had a chance to put 
 in a word for her father she ought not to neglect it. 
 
 Joanna felt suddenly very forlorn and far away from every- 
 
116 A SELF-BENYINQ OBDINANOE. 
 
 body and homesick ; she did not consider the pleasures of this 
 world at all vain, but she felt that just at that moment she 
 would have liked her mother to come and give her a hot drink 
 and send her to bed, and tell her she could not possibly go to 
 the ball, instead of being left to decide for herself. She had 
 rejoiced so much in her liberty, and now she all at once felt 
 a longing for somebody to order her about and to belong to 
 her. Then she said to herself angrily that of course Nicholas 
 belonged to her, more than anyone else in the world. In her 
 secret heart she knew that Mrs. Conway would not have gone 
 out and left her alone all day with a bad headache and a gen- 
 eral feeling of misery; no, she would have stayed at home, 
 and in staying, worried Joanna almost to distraction. 
 
 She tried to think of Nicholas and enjoy his day, but some- 
 how that didn't seem to go right any more than anything else. 
 • " It is absurd to let a physical thing — a cold in the head- 
 make me so miserable," she said to herself; "what should I 
 do if I had not Nicholas to look forward to ? " 
 
 She crept down to the billiard room, and settled herself in 
 an armchair by the fire. The over-mantle was carved by 
 G-rinling Gibbons, and was, she found, a "comfort to her." 
 She felt a degree less miserable when she sat there, pleasantly 
 warm, with the carving to gaze at, and misty thoughts of 
 Nicholas gradually growing more cheerful, and, presently a 
 most unprecedented thing occurred— she fell asleep. 
 
 " Hullo ! Miss Conway, this is a surprise ! " said somebody 
 through her dreams, and Joanna woke up, startled, and feel- 
 ing rather more miserable than when she had gone to sleep. 
 
 Lord Meredyth was standing over her in his red coat and 
 splashed boots and breeches, and looking down upon her with 
 his very nicest smile. 
 
 But she woke up like a child, half-frightened, and wholly 
 perplexed as to where she was and what had happened to her. 
 
 "Nicholas?" she said vaguely. "Is anything wrong? 
 What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all is the matter, at any rate with Osborne," 
 said Lord Meredyth rather shortly. "Personally I had rather 
 a cropper, but I am not mucli the worse except a bit of a 
 shake. It is freezing hard now, and we were too long about 
 stopping." 
 
 "I am very sorry," said Joanna, uncomfortably conscious 
 that she had to open her mouth to breathe at all, and that 
 speaking was quite a matter of difficulty. " How did it 
 happen ? " 
 
 "My gee slipped on the other side of a little brook where 
 some wet stones had been frozen, and went right over," said 
 Lord Meredyth. "Nothing is much damaged except my feel- 
 ings, for the mare seems none the worse. I have just left her 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 117 
 
 enjoying a mash, and was going across to the smoking room 
 when I saw you." 
 
 "Has Nicholas come in ?" said Joanna, who was just at 
 present a person of one idea, and who reflected that if Lord 
 Meredyth's horse had slipped on a frozen stone, Sir Nicholas' 
 might be no more sure-footed. 
 
 "I don't know, I hardly saw him during the day," Lord 
 Meredyth said. "Are you going to the ball to-night, Miss 
 Conway, because, if so, I think you ought to get ready. You 
 know we dine in Windsor ? " 
 
 "I don't know whether I shall go," said Joanna dolefully. 
 
 ' ' Well, I must say you look awfully seedy, " he agreed. "I 
 daresay tliat you would be wiser to go to bed." 
 
 " I will go upstairs and see how I feel," said Joanna, getting 
 up to discover that she ached all over. "You must wonder 
 what I am doing here, but I like to sit and look at those 
 panels, and wonder if ever, ever, I could do anything like 
 them. To-night I feel that I should like to throw all my old 
 rubbish in the fire. What time is it ? " 
 
 "A little after six," said Lord Meredyth looking at his 
 watch. " We must start at seven punctually. Miss Conway, 
 for it is an hour's drive, and then we have to dine and be at 
 - the ball by half past nine, for the reception business." 
 
 Joanna went meditatively up to her room. Should she go 
 or not ? 
 
 There, on the bed, lay the blue and silver dress looking very 
 different from anything she had ever worn before, and she 
 might never have as good an opportunity of wearing it again. 
 If she had only been able to see Nicholas, she was sure he 
 would not have minded staying at home in the least, and they 
 could have had a happy evening together ; but she could not 
 go to his room to look for him, and she felt shy about sending 
 him a message through any of those imposing valets or foot- 
 men. So she decided that in gratitude to Lady Hilda and her 
 maid she ought to go" and wear that dress. 
 
 So she dressed, stopping to sneeze at intervals, with aching 
 head and aching limbs, and though the blue and silver was 
 very pretty in itself, she could not flatter herself that the 
 result was good. 
 
 However, she was down and ready before seven, having 
 powdered herself as well as she could and filled her pocket 
 with handkerchiefs. 
 
 But there was no sign of Nicholas, no sign either of Lady 
 Florence Delacque, a fact which Joanna would not have 
 noticed or heeded a week ago, but which gave her a certain 
 troublesome pang now. 
 
 She hesitated to ask for him, as nobody else seemed to 
 trouble about his absence. 
 
118 A SELF-BENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 "How awfully ill you look, Jo," Lady Hilda said. 
 
 " I am sick of being told I look ill," said Joanna fretfully. 
 " Can't you say something newer for a change ? I know it is 
 only a polite way of telling me that I look ugly." 
 
 "Well, I can't truthfully say that you look pretty," said 
 Lady Hilda dispassionateljr. 
 
 "I can't help that," said Joanna impatiently. "I didn't 
 make myself." 
 
 "I should call it a very discreditable performance, if you 
 Lad," said Lady Hilda, who prided herself on frankness with 
 good reason. " You have every appearance of a hard drinker, 
 and I can't say that that powder is artistically put on." 
 
 " It wouldn't stick," said Joanna dismally. 
 
 But she did not feel cheered by Lady Hilda's plain speaking. 
 
 And meanwhile, where was Nicholas ? could any accident 
 have happened ? 
 
 "It is time to start," said Lady Meredyth. "Where is 
 Nick ? And, Mr. Delacque, do you know what is keeping 
 Lady Florence ? " 
 
 " Osborne has not come in," said Lord Meredyth, and every- 
 body looked at Joanna ; "I sent up just now to ask." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Joanna, " can anything have happened ? " 
 
 " I had a message from Florence about twenty minutes ago, 
 to say that the frost had delayed them," said Mr. Delacque, a 
 stout, burly pei-son. 
 
 " Oh, yes, the frost of course," Lord Meredyth agreed 
 hastily. "We need not wait then, Judith ; I daresay they 
 will come on to this affair later on." 
 
 And .loanna went with the rest, for the first time undeni- 
 ably jealous. 
 
 She did not enjoy the dinner ; she could neither eat nor 
 talk, and it seemed to her endless. She did not enjoy the 
 saunter of inspection through the almost empty ballrooms, 
 and she was annoyed all the time by feeling how much she 
 could have enjoyed it, if Nicholas had -been there, and she 
 had had neither cold nor headache. 
 
 She got into a retired corner to watch Lady Meredyth 
 receive each arrival, and to hope against hope that each one 
 was Nicholas. 
 
 Lady Meredyth was not a good hostess ; she made marked 
 differences in her greeting of people she did or did not like, 
 and she received men much more warmly than their woman- 
 kind. 
 
 She delayed a countess and her daughters in the effusive- 
 ness of her reception of Captain Digby-Grant, who was not at 
 all grateful. 
 
 "I have kept you some dances," she said; "4 and 8 and 
 13 — but you will see them marked on my programme." 
 
A SELF-DENTING OEDINANGE. 119 
 
 "You are very kind," he said with languid insolence, " but 
 I am not going to dance much this evening. I shall be 
 delighted if you will give me — say number twelve." 
 
 And Lady Meredyth gave it to him, while Joanna, in her 
 corner, felt she could have almost flung the programme in his 
 face. 
 
 Lady Hilda passed on her partner's arm, and stopped to 
 ■whisper : " Jo, if The Beattie takes you into supper, look out 
 what he gives you to drink. Tliey say he's an awful beast 
 with girls," and somehow or other this seemed to put a finish- 
 ing touch to her growing conviction of the wickedness of the 
 ■world this evening. Mrs. Conway was quite right — pleasures 
 were vain and fleeting. 
 
 The delinquents did not arrive till the evening was half over, 
 looking very cheerful and not much ashamed of themselves. 
 
 ' ' There was no way of getting back with unprepared 
 horses," said Sir Nicholas. \ 
 
 ' ' H'm ; all the rest of us got back, " remarked Lord Meredyth. 
 
 " So we stopped at a farm house, and eventually arrived at 
 Merevale about half-past seven in a spring-cart," put in Lady 
 Florence. 
 
 "I see," said Lord Meredyth di-ily. " I am glad to find you 
 are getting duly careful, Osborne." 
 
 " I never went in for being reckless that I know of," said 
 Nicholas sharply. 
 
 "I am going over to speak to Miss Conway, and apologise 
 for keeping you. Sir Nicholas," said Lady Florence sweetly; 
 " will you take charge of me across the room ? " 
 
 And then she came to Joanna and smiled upon her and 
 spoke to her most amiably. 
 
 "Miss Conway, I hope you are not very angry with me for 
 keeping Sir Nicholas so long ? You are not going to scold 
 him ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," said Joanna shortly. She was worn out, 
 miserable, and cross, and she showed it. 
 
 " I am awfully sorry I have missed two of my dances with 
 you," said Nicholas uncomfortably, "but 1 daresay you danced 
 them, which was more fun. The next is ours, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Joanna, and then he turned away to Lady 
 Florence, who had moved aside to speak to someone who 
 wanted a dance. 
 
 "What are you going to give me ? " he said. 
 
 "Oh, I haven't made up my mind to that," Lady Florence 
 said; " I can't sit out with you when I have been with you all 
 day. If you danced it would be different, but people will talk." 
 
 "Hang their talking ! " said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "Well, you can have the next, perhaps," Lady Florence 
 said graciously. 
 
120 A 8ELF-DEN7IN0 OBDINANOE. 
 
 " The next I am to have with Joanna ; give me the one after, 
 instead ? " 
 
 "No, no, my friend ; take the gifts the gods provide you 
 with or go without," said Lady Florence; "that one is a 
 square and I am to dance it with the Prince. Yes, Lord 
 Molyneux— the 8th— with pleasure." 
 
 " Well, what are you going to give me ? " said Sir Nicholas 
 impatiently. 
 
 " The next, or none," said Lady Florence turning lightly 
 away. 
 
 " You will drive me mad," Sir Nicholas said. " I tell you I 
 am to have it with Joanna." 
 
 " Very well, take your choice," said Lady Florence suavely. 
 " I am not yet reduced to pin my hopes on one partner. 
 Another dance. Captain Digby ? 1 am afraid I can't possibly 
 manage it." 
 
 Sir Nicholas looked from Lady Florence to Joanna — from 
 Lady Florence in her smart frock from Claud, to Joanna in 
 the blue and silver, which did not suit her — from Lady Flor- 
 ence looking her best and prettiest, and half surrounded by a 
 crowd of men clamouring for dances, to Joanna sitting all 
 alone with such an unbecoming cold in her head. 
 
 " You know I must have a dance with you at any price," he 
 said roughly to Lady Florence, whose eyes brightened with 
 triumph, and then he went over to Joanna, speaking with an 
 assumed nonchalance. 
 
 " You won't mind giving me the next dance instead of this 
 one, will you, dear ?" he said, and she answered: "Oh, no, 
 not in the least," with lips that quivered in spite of all her 
 efforts. 
 
 ' ' You see it is the only one Lady Florence can give me, and 
 it seems rather uncivil — don't you understand ? " said Nicholas 
 uneasily. " Why child, how ill you look! You are not tak^ 
 ing to powder, are you ? Rub that streak off your cheek this 
 minute." 
 
 Joanna meekly obeyed. 
 
 Lord Meredytn was the only person who had noticed the 
 whole performance, where he stood, leaning against the wall 
 and waiting for the next dance to begin, and while the band 
 was playing the first bars of the "Garden of Sleep" he 
 walked across to Lady Hilda and said : 
 
 "Hilda, would you mind my throwing you over for this 
 dance ? " 
 
 "Delighted, I am sure," said Lady Hilda calmly; "as you 
 know, like most people, I am rather partial to being thrown 
 over, and don't think it at all rude." 
 
 " The fact of the matter is this : there's Csborne gaily 
 dancing with your sister, and I know he was engaged to Miss 
 
A SELF-BENYma ORDINANCE. 121 
 
 Conway. I think it -would be a charity to dance with the 
 girl; she looks awfully miserable." 
 
 " Has he cliucked her — the— 6easi / " said Lady Hilda with 
 energy, "yes, Meredyth, go and dance with her by all means. 
 It is like you to think of it." 
 
 And she spoke very warmly indeed. 
 
 "And after that I think I shall go home, Hilda; that 
 tumble shook me more than I fancied at that time." 
 
 Lady Hilda looked at him anxiously. "After all, perhaps 
 you had better not bother with Joanna for to-night," she said. 
 " Go home at once, or come and sit out with me, and you need 
 not talk." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! there's nothing to be anxious about. But 
 I thought I would escape and have a rest, as you know I speak 
 in the House to-morrow." 
 
 "Well, try and get that child to go home with you; she 
 looks worn out," Lady Hilda said. 
 
 But though Joanna was glad enough to give Lord Meredyth 
 the dance and be taken away from her lonely corner, she was 
 not willing to go home. She was generally rather a sensible 
 girl, but now, between illness and disappointment she had got 
 into a state beyond reasoning with. 
 
 Go home, leaving Nicholas behind, she would not. There 
 were his dances with her to be thought of, and then her 
 promise to help him about Lady Florence. She was 
 bewildered, worn out, and miserable, and her one clear idea 
 was to stay while he did. 
 
 But her dances with him were not quite a success. He 
 talked of anything but Lady Florence, and she dared not 
 begin to speak of her for fear of bursting into tears or in some 
 way betraying the misery of which she was ashamed.. She 
 had no thought of blaming Nicholas, but she wanted him to 
 take her away from the rest, and then to take her in his arms, 
 and tell her that she was very silly. 
 
 But he had no idea just then of doing any such thing ; he 
 had quite sufficient thoughts and fears and wishes of his own 
 to engross him. Lady Florence had for the time being com- 
 pletely gone to his head. The excitement of the hunt, their 
 long day together, their dark drive home in the spring-cart, 
 and now the feeling that this woman, admired and sought 
 after by everybody, belonged to him more than to anybody 
 else— all this had put Nicholas' brain in a whirl. And then 
 Joanna — Joanna to whom he had sworn a thousand times that 
 he loved her for herself alone, and that no change, no dis- 
 figurement could change him — Joanna was looking very 
 plain, and she was not at all amusing or pleasant. 
 
 Besides, worst of all, she awoke in him a vague sense of 
 wrong this evening, which was very disagreeable. 
 
122 A BELF-BENYINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 So Nicholas hid his discomfort by flippancy, and he and 
 Joanna rubbed each other up wrong the whole evening. 
 
 And so houi- after hour of this ball which Joanna had looked 
 forward to for a whole weeli and could have enjoyed so much, 
 hour after hour went by till she thought it would never 
 end. 
 
 People came and people went, but they went very slowly. 
 
 They went as they chose, for there was no chance of saying 
 good-bye to Lady Meredyth, who had been invisible for the 
 last hour or so. 
 
 The Campbells, who were good-natured boys, came to sit or 
 dance with Joanna occasionally, but there was no doubt about 
 it that she was exceedingly dull this evening, 
 
 And at last, at last, the room was cleared, Lady Meredyth 
 turned up, and it was time to go. 
 
 But the sigh of relief which Joanna heaved when they stood 
 together in tlie hall, about twenty of tliem, the very last even 
 of their own party, was somewhat premature. 
 
 "What time is it?" said Lady Meredyth, in wild spirits. 
 " Five o'clock ? Now for Archie Lovett-Cairns' supper party." 
 
 " Wliat, are you really going?" said Lady Florence, who 
 was looking as fresh as ever with a blue shawl thrown over 
 her fair hair, and a warm cloak which Nicliolas had just 
 helped her to put on. 
 
 " Going ? I should think so ! I said I would the moment 
 I heard that Meredyth was going home early and would leave 
 us a free field." 
 
 " Oh, what am I to do ? " said Joanna, more to herself than 
 aloud. 
 
 " Great Heavens, Miss Conway! I thought you had gone 
 home hours ago," said Lady Meredyth in a disgusted voice. 
 She had thought the party a select one of her own kindred 
 spirits and intimates, and she took no trouble to conceal that 
 she tliought Joanna in the way. 
 
 " As you are here, I suppose you had better come," she said 
 unwillingly. 
 
 " But I don't know Mr. Cairns " 
 
 " I can't help that— unless you like to go home by yourself. 
 Mr. Cairns, we are ready. Miss Conway wants to be intro- 
 duced." 
 
 Mr. Cairns was a stout, red-haired, youngish man, with 
 long, sensual eyes, and not the most flattering reputation. He 
 had made rapid strides that night towards the place in Lady 
 Meredyth's platonic affections so decidedly vacated by Captain 
 Digby-Grant. 
 
 At another time Joanna would have thought nothing of 
 asking Nicholas to take her home, but to-night was different. 
 
 Lady Meredyth did not care to bring her own carriages to 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 123 
 
 wait at Mr. Lovett-Cairns' door, so she sent them hack to the 
 hotel, and the party started through the streets on foot. 
 
 Joanna was too dazed and stupid by this time to care if she 
 was out of it or not ; she followed the rest, engrossed with only 
 one idea, to keep them in sight: followed them, with aching 
 head and legs, and feeling more ashamed and disreputable 
 than she had ever felt in her life. 
 
 They whistled, they sang, they even executed a version of 
 "Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay" in the middle of the empty street, 
 waking up the neighbourhood and startling the policeman on 
 his beat. 
 
 And Mr. Lovett-Cairns' supper-party was a performance 
 such as Joanna had never even dreamed of ; a scene wliere 
 the men were all half drunk, and the women at least excited ; 
 a scene of license and disorder, which would have shocked 
 these people themselves at a calmer moment. 
 
 She was admitted for the first time to Lady Meredyth's most 
 intimate circle. 
 
 And Nicholas ? Excited as he was, he would have given 
 worlds to take Joanna away, and only the fear of ridicule 
 restrained him. 
 
 They reached home in the daylight of an eight-o'clock March 
 morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " He sat beside me, with an oath 
 
 That love ne'er ended, once begun ; 
 I smiled — believing for xia both. 
 What was the truth for only one." 
 
 Next day Joanna was really ill. She was shivering one 
 minute and burning the next; she ached all over and could 
 eat nothing. 
 
 She read over her diary, and decided that she was degen- 
 erating; that she did not mind things now that she had 
 thought dreadful at first, and that her becoming like the rest 
 was only a matter of time. She would not speak to Lady 
 Hilda or look at her, and all she said to Lady Meredyth, who 
 took the trouble of coming up several flights of stairs and 
 along many passages, and was much impressed by her own 
 kindness, was that she wanted to go home. 
 
 If Nicholas was to fail her, how was she to live in this 
 house and among these strangers any longer ? 
 
 And then she told herself over and over again that he had 
 done nothing — nothing to make her fear that it was possible 
 that he should fail her. Such a thing was beyond the limits 
 
124 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 of possibility, and she was a wicked girl to let the smallest 
 doubt creep into her heart. 
 
 Why, only the day before the ball he had told her that she 
 was his forever, and that notliing — no length of time or no 
 change in her should make him change, and after that, was 
 she not the most faitliless, unbelieving of girls to doubt the 
 very next day ? 
 
 She had heard and read of girls who could trust their lovers 
 when everything seemed black against them, and now, where 
 was all her faith in Nicholas gone ? Gone, without any cause 
 or reason whatever. 
 
 When he came to the door and asked to be let in, later on, 
 she would have given worlds to see him, but something — Bal- 
 lylone feelings and prejudices — held her back, and Nicholas 
 went away wrathfully, calling her a little prude. 
 
 Whereupon Joanna, this weak, foolish Joanna of the last 
 two or three days, began to cry helplessly to herself. 
 
 Nobody came near her till five o'clock, when Lady Hilda 
 made her appearance, carrying in her own hands a little silver 
 tray with tea and cakes neatly arranged on it. 
 
 "Now, Jo," she said, "be as disagreeable as you like, but 
 don't sulk. I haven't had any tea, so you can't in charity 
 refuse to let me have some with you here." 
 
 Lady Hilda looked as bright and fresh as if she had not gone 
 to bed about nine o'clock in the morning. She had got up in 
 time for lunch, after a comfortably sound sleep, and had been 
 playing tennis ever since. 
 
 " My poor child, what a wreck you look," she said, drawing 
 up a table to Joanna's bedside and beginning to pour out the 
 tea. "You aren't up to these late hours, and I must say they 
 do make the most of a dance in the country. You take sugar, 
 don't you ? You certainly need something to sweeten you 
 to-day." 
 
 " I can't talk ; my head is aching,'' said Joanna. 
 
 " You will feel better when you have expressed yourself, 
 and I am not easily offended. Well, it was very rowdy and 
 improper last night, wasn't it ? " 
 
 "I can't say what I think about last night," said Joanna, 
 turning her head away. 
 
 " Have a little tea-cake ? It is delicious," said Lady Hilda. 
 " And look here, Jo; whatever your feelings, like a good girl 
 don't say anything to Lord Meredyth, or there'll be the devil 
 to pay." 
 
 " I thought you liked Lord Meredyth, but you don't seem to 
 mind deceiving him," said Joanna. 
 
 "All men have to be deceived for their own good," said 
 Lady Hilda with conviction. " Do you think Meredyth knows 
 one-half or one-quarter or one-third of what goes on in this 
 
A SELF-BENTINO ORDINANCE. 125 
 
 house ? It is a bothersome world, Jo, and when you get into 
 a certain way of going, it is very hard to get out of it. Wlien 
 I come to see you in Ballylone, you must try if you can 
 improve me. Do you think I should astonish tlie natives ? " 
 
 Astonish them ? Joanna imagined Lady Hilda, with her 
 long-handled eyeglass, her cigarettes, and her occasional 
 oaths and startling stories, face to face with Miss Clarke and 
 her mother, or strolling down the streets of Ballylone with 
 her hands in her pockets. 
 
 She absolutely smiled at the idea, miserable as she felt. 
 
 ' ' Have you seen Nick yet ? " said Lady Hilda upon this 
 sign of relenting. 
 
 "No; how could I?" 
 
 "Propriety, eh? Well, there's more than propriety in 
 question just now. Take my advice and see him. I will lend 
 you my pink tea-gown if you like." 
 
 " No, thanks," said Joanna. " If you think I could see him, 
 my dressing-gown will do. Oh, Hilda, I do want him ! " 
 
 " You little goose," was all Lady Hilda said, but she helped 
 Joanna to get up and half dress, and brushed out her pretty, 
 wavy hair, and established her in a chair over the fire while 
 she went to look for Nicholas. 
 
 And Joanna vaguely felt that she was doing something 
 slightly improper and entirely Bohemian and delightful. 
 
 Nicholas was very penitent and completely charming. He 
 knelt in front of her, twisting his fingers through her 
 hair, kissing her grave brown eyes, telling her that he loved 
 her dearly, and altogether proving himself the most satis- 
 factory of lovers. 
 
 Joanna's vague fears and miseries vanished at once, and she 
 felt ashamed to confess them. 
 
 "Darling, I must tell you, as I promised to tell you 
 everything," she said, " I had all sorts of horrid thoughts in 
 my head. You must forgive me, for it was because I was not 
 well, or I should never, never, have felt the smallest little 
 doubt." 
 
 But his answer was not quite what she had expected. 
 
 " I don't know exactly what to say to you about last night, 
 my child," he said. "I don't know what came over me — it 
 was a madness. But it is all right now, my sweet, and you 
 need not be afraid, if you love me — you do love me, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 It was the same thing over and over again ; Nicholas was 
 trying to hold himself to Joanna with words. 
 
 He was very angry when she said : " But, dear, if things 
 are like that, how am I ever to be anything but uncertain? " 
 and in tlie end there were more promises of trust and every- 
 thing was satisfactory. 
 9 
 
126 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 But it is impossible to trust a man by sheer force of cleter^ 
 mlnation when he has proved himself untrustworthy. 
 
 Joanna was admittedly happy when he was .with her, and 
 unadniittedly anxious when he was away from her, and the 
 sliglit, almost imperceptible, rift between them became every 
 day more hard to ignore. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " She'll not be thwarted by an obstacle 
 Bo trifling as — her soul is — mnch less yours ! 
 Is God a consideration ?— she loves yon. 
 Not God ; she will not flinch for Him. Indeed 
 She did not for the Marchioness of Perth, 
 When wanting tickets for the fancy ball. 
 She loves you, Sir, with passion, to lunacy. 
 She loves you, like her diamonds— almost. 
 
 Lord Meredyth was a young man with every intention of 
 getting on in life and making himself of use in the world. 
 
 In his father's lifetime he had knocked about a good deal, 
 had gone as aide-de-camp, first to Australia and then to India, 
 and had finally returned to London and gone into Par- 
 liament. 
 
 There he had made a certain mark, as a promising young 
 fellow, with troublesome enthusiasms which would wear oft'. 
 He had taken up Home Rule for Ireland with great energy, 
 and as a pi'otest against absenteeism, had gone to live for a 
 year on his property in the West, after which he had honestly 
 confessed to a change of mind, and had taken up the opposing 
 side almost as hotly. He had interested himself in the poor 
 and the housing of the poor, and had gone round to all the 
 workhouses and a good many of the cottages in his county. 
 
 Then had come his father's death, which had placed him in 
 the House of Lords, and given him cottagers of his own to look 
 after. 
 
 He set to work to pull down, to build, and to alter ; he 
 attended parish meetings and sessions with a commendable 
 regularity, and he was ready to speak, and usually to speak 
 well, whenever he was asked. 
 
 He had also taken a place of his own in the House of Lords, 
 and people spoke of the Cabinet as a fairly certain prospect. 
 
 Consequently, with the Mastership of the County Hounds 
 in addition, and a troublesome conscientiousness, which made 
 him determined to put his very best work into everything, 
 Lord Meredyth had plenty of scope for the immense vitality 
 and energy which some people considered a virtue and others 
 a fault. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 127 
 
 He had married Miss Osborne, to whom he had been en- 
 gaged for years off and on, soon after his father's death. 
 
 Old Lord Meredyth had flatly declined to have anything to 
 do with the Osborne family, but his son was fully as obstinate, 
 and would have married Judith then in despite of anybody 
 had she chosen. 
 
 But Miss Osborne had nobly declared that she would 
 never marry him without his father's consent, which praise- 
 worthy sentiment, translated into plain Englisli, meant that 
 though in any case he was an excellent match for her, she 
 fully appreciated the difference that a disagreement with his 
 father might make. So they waited, and in the meantime old 
 Lord Meredyth died. 
 
 So, as his opposition was no longer of any avail, his son 
 forthwith married Miss Osborne and reigned in his stead, and 
 there were such doings at Merevale now as would have made 
 the hair of the old earl or his quiet, home-loving wife stand 
 on end. 
 
 The present Lord Meredyth was an active, purposeful, busy 
 man, but he was inclined to be a little easy-going as regarded 
 his wife. 
 
 If she had disappointed him, he never said so, even to her, 
 and he let her go very much her own way, but he was a good 
 deal away from home, and he had no idea what her own way 
 really was. Frankness was not a distinguishing virtue of the 
 Osborne family, and Lady Meredyth considered it by no means 
 necessary to tell her husband everything. 
 
 And as a husband, he was perhaps a little too careless, a 
 little too disinclined to trouble himself to draw out such good 
 as there was in Judith. 
 
 They really saw very little of each other in private — it was 
 quite a rare event for them to find themselves alone together 
 during the day. 
 
 Two days after the Hunt Ball this rare event did happen. 
 They met in the conservatories, where Lady Meredyth was 
 selecting the flowers she wished to wear in the evening, under 
 protest from the gaj-dener, who preferred to send in what he 
 pleased. 
 
 Lord Meredyth was still not entirely himself after his acci- 
 dent, and he had been taking a quiet day in consequence, and 
 now having something to say to his wife, he had sought her 
 out. to give utterance to his annoyance with Nicholas. 
 
 He emphatically did not like Nicholas, and he was not the 
 kind of man to have patience with his vacillations. He had 
 borne many things in silence from his wife, but he did not 
 think it at all necessary to bear with his brother-in-law, and 
 he said so, coming to the point at once. 
 
 "Osborne must either be willing to work or to go to the 
 
128 A SELF-DENYINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 workhouse, and they would not let him be idle even there," 
 he said grimly. " I am not going to take any trouble unless 
 I know it will be of some use, and I don't believe he is ever of 
 the same mind two days running." 
 
 Lady Meredyth shrugged her shoulders, and debated be- 
 tween a pink and a crimson geranium. 
 
 " He's out of his senses about Florence Delacque just at 
 present." 
 
 " More shame for him to insult Miss Conway when he has 
 brought her over here as his engaged wife." 
 
 " Can you wonder, when he sees on one side a little bundly 
 girl with a red nose, who is always sniffing "' 
 
 "Now, Judith— justice ! " said Lord Meredyth, laughing, 
 " Miss Conway had a very bad cold, and neither you nor I 
 nor Lady Florence are exempt from colds that I know of. I 
 like her very much — she is a sensible, clever girl, and some- 
 times says very amusing things." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know you and Hilda have taken her up. I am 
 going to the orchid house. Jack, if you have anything more 
 to say." 
 
 Lord Meredyth was always pleased when she called him 
 Jack, and he followed her, pulhng to pieces a much treasured 
 geranium of the gardener's, which he had plucked in absence 
 of mind. 
 
 " I would say nothing if he broke with the girl like a man," 
 he went on; "it would be a shabby sort of affair, but it is his 
 own business." 
 
 " Oh, Nick is a kind of sultan — he likes quantity," said Lady 
 Meredyth, laughing. 
 
 " Well, he's not going to act sultan in my house. Judith, 
 you must put a stop to it." 
 
 " My dear boy, what am I to do ? Who am I to turn out ? 
 Nick, or Lady Florence ? " 
 
 "My dear Judith, you are not the woman I take you for if 
 you can't manage it very easily," said Lord Meredyth, smiling. 
 "Eemember, you told me, to begin with, that though you 
 didn't cai'e to ask Lady Florence to put off her visit, you were 
 sure that when you casually told her that Nicholas was here 
 that she would do so herself." 
 
 "Jack, I wish to goodness you would look where you are 
 going. There wasn't the smallest necessity to walk into that 
 flower-pot. I wish you would go and express your feelings 
 to Nick or to Florence instead of scolding me." 
 
 " Oh, if you call this scolding " 
 
 " Well, I am sure I don't know what I am to do. You see 
 Florence is naturally flattered to have a handsome, smart 
 young fellow hanging after her, and then I always fancy she 
 is fond of Nick, and doesn't care to lose him ; and Nicholas is 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 129 
 
 flattered when he finds himself preferred to so many other 
 people, and so they go on flattering each other, and— isn't this 
 a queer orchid? it has got a most remarkable name that would 
 take some weeks to say, sol call it 'Piggy,' which is some- 
 thing like the beginning, for short." 
 
 " But look here, Judith, Osborne has been here for some 
 time, and the Delacques too. I don't wisli to be inhospitable, 
 but Hilda says " 
 
 "And how long has Hilda been here, I should like to 
 know ? " 
 
 "I am sure I haven't the smallest idea, but that, like the 
 other, is a question for you to decide." 
 
 " Slie is mad about a midnight steeple-chase she wants to 
 ride," said Lady Meredyth conversationally. " What do you 
 think about it, this next moonlight? " 
 
 " I think that it won't be ridden on my horses," said Lord 
 Meredyth calmly, " nor by me, as I have no wish to break my 
 neck at present. But about the Delacques, Judith " 
 
 "Great Scott, Meredyth, when God made you he made a 
 very obstinate man ! Well, if you won't say another word 
 about it to-day, I'll speak to Florence, or Nicholas, or some- 
 body. And now, as you won't look at my orchids, let us go 
 back to the rest, for I am sure you have been standing long 
 enough. You are quite lame still." 
 
 But all the same, nobody spoke to Nicholas, except Joanna, 
 vfho suggested one day that they had been a long time at 
 Merevale. 
 
 On the whole, he would have been rather pleased if some- 
 body had come forward to make up his mind for him. There 
 was never a time in this young man's life when he had not 
 wanted to do or to have at least two totally incompatible 
 things at once. Now, he wanted to keep both Lady Florence 
 and Joanna, and, as he could not make up his mind which he 
 wanted the most, he had rather an uncomfortable time of 
 it, and he found his position growing more difflcult every 
 day. 
 
 Lady Florence was exacting, — exceedingly exacting, — but 
 then she was very pretty and smart, and knew how to flatter 
 him to the top of his bent. He sometimes pictured to himself 
 the consternation, envy, and admiration his elopement with 
 one of the London beauties would create, the triumph and 
 Mat for him; whereas, under no circumstances could his 
 marriage with Joanna bring him ^clat, and it could not pos- 
 sibly take place for years. 
 
 There was as much flattered vanity as passion in Sir 
 Nicholas' relations with Lady Florence. That she should 
 further complicate matters by seriously falling in love with 
 him was an idea which he had hardly contemplated at first. 
 
130 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 but it was gradually presenting itself to him, and flattering 
 and perplexing him at the same time. 
 
 Wliatever he eventually decided, a practical diflBculty 
 stared him in the face, which was want of money. 
 
 On Monday there was a dance at Merevale, a dance where 
 Lady Florence was the undisputed beauty of the evening, and 
 where she sliowed equally indisputable favour to Nicholas. 
 
 After the first few dances they went to sit out together on a 
 a couch in the billiard room, where they could just faintly 
 hear tlie distant band in the hall. 
 
 Lady Florence was in blue, her favourite colour, with blue 
 ribbons in her hair, matching her eyes, and making her look 
 wonderfully young and girlish. She established herself very 
 carefully, with a background of pillows, half lying, half sit- 
 ting; ttie diamonds on her dress and fastening the ribbons 
 in her hair shone even in the shaded light. 
 
 Sir Nicholas sat and looked at her with his expressive dark 
 eyes, findnig her very lovely, very fascinating, very altogether 
 desirable. 
 
 " You are very sweet to-night," he said. 
 
 " It is all so nearly over," said Lady Florence, with a genu- 
 ine sigh. 
 
 "Over?" 
 
 "Yes, over. I am sorry— I admit I am sorry; but as for 
 you, you have had your amusement " 
 
 "Florence!" said Nicholas. She had very pretty well- 
 shaped, white arms, and she let him take her hand without 
 resistance. 
 
 "Well," said Lady Florence, " it is quite true. All this has 
 been a pleasant little episode to you and cost you nothing. 
 What does it matter that the remembrance of it will make 
 James twice as hard with me when we are buried in Northum- 
 berland ? I have been a fool, and I shall suffer for it — that's 
 all." 
 
 " Don't say that ! " said Nicholas roughly. "Do you thiuk 
 I am not miserable ? " 
 
 " You will not be difficult to console,'' said Lady Florence; 
 but tliough her words were reproachful, her tone was very 
 soft, and she let him draw very close to her. "Do you 
 remember the days when you swore nothing should ever 
 come between us ? You were consoled then— very soon." 
 
 The temptation was too strong for Nicholas' passionate, 
 pleasure-loving mind; he drew her to him, unresisting, and 
 held her, with a long kiss upon her lips. 
 
 "Nothing shall come between us," he said. "I can't let 
 you go " 
 
 " What else can you do ? You will soon be a married man, 
 with other interests " 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 131 
 
 ' "Never — never ! Florence, darling, there has been too 
 much between us for it to end like this." 
 
 " Don't speak like that. You only make the good-bye, 
 which must come, worse," said Lady Florence, very low; but 
 she said it with his arms round her, her head on his shoulder, 
 a,nd his kisses on her lips. 
 
 "By God, there shall never be good-bye between us ! " said 
 Nicholas, in a shaken voice. "Darling, if you love me, let 
 me take you with me. You shall be always mine — I shall kiss 
 these sweet lips " 
 
 Lady Florence drew a long breath. She was so tired of 
 everything — tired for the time of being admired and sought 
 after— very tired of her husband, and the prospect of a lonely 
 summer in Northumberland, and, after her own fashion, slie 
 was in love with Sir Nicholas. 
 
 "Oh, Nicholas, don't tempt me— don't tempt me !" she 
 said ; but she did not draw herself away from him. 
 
 He was excited entirely beyond his own control, and Joanna 
 was forgotten. He swore a passionate oath that nothing 
 should come between them — nothing — not God in heaven 
 Himself — should take Lady Florence from him. 
 
 For the time being everything and everybody else was 
 blotted out from his mind. 
 
 Later on, in his own room that night, with- a pipe in his 
 mouth, and a tumbler of whiskey and water beside him, he 
 came down to earth with a run. To carry off one's neighbour's 
 wife requires money, like most other things in the world, and 
 Lady Florence would certainly expect to be run away with 
 comfortably. 
 
 Nicholas turned out his desk and his pockets, and assembled 
 twenty-eight pounds, fifteen and sixpence, which seemed 
 scarcely a satisfactory income on which to start life. He had 
 overdrawn at Cox's already, and with a view to borrowing 
 money it was necessary to offer some security, and at least 
 to make the lender think there was sonje prospect of hiS 
 being paid. 
 
 And then — poor little Joanna! 
 . On consideration, he was inclined to put the blame of all 
 that had happened on fate. He had not been at all anxious to 
 come to Merevale himself, and he had certainly had no idea 
 of meeting Lady Florence there. In this was the hand of fate 
 most assuredlj', comfortably taking the blame off Nicholas 
 Osborne's shoulders. What was to be must be, and it was 
 evidently pre-ordained that he was to spend his life with Lady 
 Florence and not with Joanna. 
 
 And sodeciding, he made up his mind to leave it once more 
 to fate. 
 
 He had almost thirty pounds in his pocket, and to-morrow 
 
132 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 he would go up to a certain small baccarat club he knew of in 
 London, and either lose the money he had or win sufficient to 
 take him out of the country comfortably. It was a hundred 
 chances to one that he should lose, and if he did he would 
 leave Merevale at once — ^he had at least got his return ticket 
 to Ballylone — take Joanna with him, and devote himself to 
 learning- the agency business with a view to accepting Lord 
 Meredyth's offer. 
 
 If he won — why then he would know that there was no God 
 in heaven who cared for what happened here on earth —only 
 a fate that there was no use fighting against. 
 
 Nicholas drank off his tumbler, and filled it again with a 
 band that shook a little. 
 
 " Poor little Joanna ! " be said, half aloud. Something 
 seemed to tell him that there would soon be reason to pity her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " All's over, then ; does trath sound bitter 
 As one at first believes ? " 
 
 " Tremendous run of luck Osborne had to-night." 
 
 " Yes; he played as if the devil was on his side, and when 
 I said so he looked at me and said I might be more right than 
 I thought." 
 
 "Well, I know if I hadn't had a return ticket I should 
 have been in a bad way," said young Campbell, with a yawn; 
 " but all the same, I wouldn't be in Osborne's shoes just now." 
 
 " It was a very unpleasant scene. Had you ever suspected 
 him of not being on the square i " 
 
 "Well, I had heard talk, you know. The way he cleared 
 out of the guards was rather fishy." 
 
 " I had never heard a word," said San ton, of the Foreign 
 Office; "but I suppose it must be true, or Sylvain would 
 hardly have spoken out like that. It seems they had made 
 him promise to drop baccarat." 
 
 "An Osborne's promise is a frag^ile thing," said The Beattie, 
 who did not share the admiration for Lady Meredyth which 
 made Mr. Santon inclined to be lenient. 
 
 "He'll hardly care to stop on here, after an expos6 like 
 that," said Mr. Santon. 
 
 "But I believe he was playing quite straight to-night," 
 young Campbell said. " I only lost a couple of ponies to him, 
 and I believe I lost them fair enough, and don't grudge them. 
 Good-night, you fellows. I think Sylvain might have held 
 his tongue." 
 
 Sir Nicholas in his room was very miserable. 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBBINANCE. 133 
 
 He had begun to forget the sword hanging over his head, 
 and to hope that he might live his life without coming across 
 the few men who knew his story. And he had played hon- 
 estly enough; his fate— his whole life hung on the issue; aud 
 when he found himself 'winning, always winning,' he staked 
 recklessly, and almost wished to lose. He had thought 
 nothing of his promise ; it was such a promise, he had argued, 
 as was made to be broken ; a compulsory promise, which no 
 one could expect him to keep, and which was kept in the 
 spirit as long as he continued to play fairly. 
 
 He was very angry with Cecil Sylvain, who had been his 
 subaltern, and who joined to his romantic name complete 
 incapacity and a tendency to get drunk every night. None 
 of the others, Nicholas knew, would have' spoken without 
 warning, would have disgraced him publicly without giving 
 him a chance. 
 
 If the opportunity of doing Sylvain an ill turn ever came 
 Nicholas Osborne's way, he would not neglect it, and at the 
 time he could have gladly killed him. 
 
 But the thing was done, deciding his fate beyond hesitation. 
 He could not remain at Merevale another day, he could not 
 face Joanna with the thing which she might learn any 
 moment hanging over him, while with Lady Florence he 
 might be far enough away from England before the story 
 became public property. For Joanna he was very sorry, but 
 the wrong-doing lay between Cecil Sylvain and fate, and he 
 had already persuaded himself that he would never have left her 
 had the exposure that evening meant anything less than ruin. 
 
 And all this time Joanna was sleeping soundly, without any 
 presentiments, and dreaming that she and Nicholas were back 
 at Ballylone. She awoke too next morning, without a shadow 
 on her mind, and welcomed the departure of her cold with a 
 light heart. 
 
 It was a bright airy day — a day to make anybody feel cheer- 
 ful, and it completely suited Joanna's frame of mind. 
 
 She and Nicholas would have a nice, comfortable talk, and 
 after that, all would be right, and that day week they would 
 be once more at Ballylone. 
 
 She was not depressed, though Nicholas did not appear all 
 morning. She knew he had been late last night, and that he 
 was given to laziness. She did not notice that people looked 
 at her oddly, as the flancie of a man who had been openly 
 declared a cheat and a swindler. Nobody was surprised that 
 he did not show himself in public; those who knew him best 
 knew he was not a man to brazen things out when they were 
 going against him. 
 
 His non-appearance at lunch meant nothing either ; 
 Nicholas very often did not take lunch. 
 
134 A 8ELF-DBNTIN9 ORDINANCE. 
 
 Joanna went off cheerfully to join a set of tennis, and then 
 came back to say good-bye to the Campbell twins, who were 
 leaving. 
 
 There was a mock-melancholy parting, a good deal of 
 laughing, and an offer from Kenneth to carry any message 
 Joanna liked to Lord Dawley, who had gone about a week 
 before. The twins had liked her, and found her excellent 
 company, and they were sorry for her. 
 
 But she was not at all sorry for herself. 
 
 Slie gaily accepted an offer of instruction in billiards from 
 Mr. Santon, only stipulating for time to run upstairs and 
 cliange her tennis shoes, and hoping that Nicholas would turn 
 up in the billiard room. 
 
 Ou the way to her room she met a servant, who gave her a 
 note. 
 
 "Johnston said Sir Nicholas Osborne told him to send 
 you this at five o'clock, Miss," the maid said, looking at her 
 curiously. 
 
 The servants knew and guessed more than anyone else just 
 at present. 
 
 " Oh, thanks," said Joanna. " Is Sir Nicholas in his room ? " 
 
 "No, I think he has gone out. Miss." 
 
 Joanna went on to her room to get rid of her tennis racquet, 
 and read her letter in comfort. Nicholas had often sent her 
 notes, making appointments with her, and she concluded that 
 this was one, and reflected that it was a bother that she had 
 promised to play with Mr. Santon. 
 
 But he had never sealed his notes before, and this made her 
 vaguely curious. 
 
 Slie tore it open, and began to unlace one of her tennis shoes 
 as she read, but the very first words startled her. 
 
 " Dear Joanna : " 
 
 Never had he written to her like that before. 
 
 "Dear Joanna : 
 
 " I don't know how to write to you — I can't ask you to for- 
 give me " 
 
 Joanna grew very white, and drew a sharp breath; but 
 still she had no idea of the truth, only that he must again 
 have broken some of his promises. It all came to her in the 
 next sentence : 
 
 " I have loved you very dearly, and I do love you still, but 
 something, as you know, has come between us. I feel myself 
 a brute and a villain to write to you like this. If there was 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 135 
 
 any chance— any hope — if either of us had any money 
 
 Forgive me for saying it, but I see now that such a hasty 
 engagement was a mistake." 
 
 It was a hard letter to write — a letter that no man could 
 have made a good one, and Nicholas had found it very diffi- 
 cult to come to the point, to declare himself a scoundrel in so 
 many words. In the end the thing had been said vei-y 
 abruptly and baldly. 
 
 " I have left here with Lady Tlorence Delacque. I know I 
 shall go to the devil, and I deserve it for deserting my guar- 
 dian angel. Don't waste a thought on me — try and forget that 
 such a brute ever existed. I daren't read over what I have 
 written, or I should tear it up. I daren't even say God bless 
 you." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " AH this and more comes from some yonng man's pride 
 Of power to see, — in failure and mistake 
 Belinquishment, disgrace, on every side — 
 Merely examples for his sake, 
 Help to his faith untried." 
 
 "Jo, are you aware that Mr. Santon has been waiting for 
 you till he foams at the mouth ? Let me in, child." 
 
 "Hilda, is that you ? Are you by yourself ? " 
 
 " Quite, quite alone — no joke on the tapis. Are you going 
 to open the door ? " 
 
 "No, I can say what I have to say without." 
 
 " What a nice, hospitable girl you are ? " 
 
 " It isn't a joke. Nicholas " 
 
 Joanna's voice broke off and came to a dead stop. 
 
 "Well, what about Nicholas?" Lady Hilda said. "It's 
 rather cold in this passage, I must say." 
 
 "Nicholas — oh, I can't say it ! " 
 
 Then for the first time Lady Hilda took alarm. 
 . "He — has — gone away with your sister," said Joanna's 
 voice very slowly. " There— don't speak to me — please go 
 away ! " , 
 
 There wa;s a silence. Lady Hilda turned very white, and 
 all the careless good humour left her face. 
 
 " Oh, Joanna, Joanna, let me in," she said. 
 
 "No, I don't want you," Joanna said impatiently; "go 
 and tell whoever has to be told. I suppose Mr. IJelacque 
 ought to know." 
 
136 A 8ELF-DBN7ING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "But I can't leave you like this, my poor little Joanna. 
 Let me in for one moment." 
 
 "I can't talk to you. Please don't bother," Joanna said, 
 and further answer Hilda could not get. 
 
 She went away when she found it was useless to remain, 
 went away, betaking herself almost instinctively to Lady 
 Meredyth's room, where she found that lady having a com- 
 fortable rest with a novel over the fire, preparatory to dressing 
 for dinner. 
 
 "Well, Hilda," she said resignedly, "if the lock of that 
 door still survives, would you mind shutting it after you ? 
 Great Scott ! what is the matter ? You look as if you had seen 
 a ghost." 
 
 "Nick Osborne has gone off with Florence," Lady Hilda 
 said abruptly. 
 
 Lady Meredj^th shrieked faintly. 
 
 "Good gracious, how you startled me! Don't talk such 
 rubbish— it's impossible! " 
 
 "It's true enough. I have just heard from Joanna Con- 
 way, who ought to know. Where's Meredyth ? " 
 
 " Hilda, don't be so overwhelming," said Lady Meredyth, 
 with a scared face. "Florence would not be such a fool, and 
 Nick has no money." 
 
 " I can't help it. Miss Conway told me, and it is not prob- 
 able that she was joking. Where's Meredyth ? I sent a mes- 
 sage to the billiard room for him." 
 
 "I daresay he is there. Hilda, you have taken away my 
 breath. What is to be done ? Is it too late for somebody to 
 go after them and stop the scandal somehow ? Good gracious, 
 what will Meredyth say to me, and I am sure it is not my fault ! " 
 
 "Nicholas Osborne is a cowardly scoundrel," said Lady 
 Hilda, who never measured her words, "and as for Flor- 
 ence Someone must tell James Delacque." 
 
 " And with the house full of people, ileally it is most dis- 
 graceful and wicked and — and — annoying ! " Lady Meredyth 
 ended as a climax. 
 
 Then there was a tap at the door, and Lord Meredyth 
 entered, still in shooting coat and knickerbockers, and tliere 
 was the whole sorry tale to tell over again. 
 
 They looked at each other with consternation and dismay. 
 Tliere was not much use in words— not even much to be done 
 in the way of action. 
 
 Lady Meredyth was the first to speak again, with a cry of 
 dismay. 
 
 " And Nicholas has left Miss Conway on our hands ! Good 
 gracious, how very inconsiderate ! What is to be done ? " 
 
 "His conduct has scarcely been marked with considera- 
 tion," said Lady Hilda bitterly. 
 
A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 137 
 
 " She must go home at once— at once, or we may never get 
 her out of the house," Lady Meredyth went on anxiously. 
 " Jack, get a Bradshaw, and look up the trains. It is the last 
 time Nicholas enters this house." 
 
 "It is," said Lord Meredyth quietly. "Who is to go to 
 that poor girl and find out what she wishes to do ? Judith ?— 
 or Hilda, you are her greatest friend here. She has been 
 grossly insulted in this house." 
 
 ' ' I can't go— possibly, " Lady Meredyth said. ' ' I have seen 
 very little of her, and I must dress for dinner. At any rate, 
 I am upset enough already. Such an unpleasant thing to 
 happen. Florence can't expect me to recognise her after 
 this — I won't do it." 
 
 " I am— ashamed to go to her," Lady Hilda said in a low 
 voice. " Florence is my sister." 
 
 " She ought not to be left like this," Lord Meredyth said. "I 
 will go and look up the trains. I fancy one leaves Sunning- 
 hill for Stranraer between nine and ten to-night, and we 
 might just catch it. That is, if she wishes to go at once, as I 
 should think she will." 
 
 " For goodness' sake do persuade her to go at once,'' said 
 Lady Meredyth fretfully. 
 
 "Judith !" was all Lord Meredyth said, but he looked 
 appealingly at Lady Hilda. 
 
 "Yes, I will go," she said; " but she may not see me. She 
 would not see me before." 
 
 " It may be all just a jealous fancy the girl has got into her 
 head," Lady Meredyth suggested sharply. 
 
 "You may be sure I shall make it clear,'' said her husband. 
 ' ' Thank you, Hilda. Will you come to me in the study 
 afterward ? " 
 
 Lady Hilda walked slowly upstairs again. How was she 
 to face this girl, who owed such a cruel insult to her sister ? 
 But she was a resolute young woman, and she did not hesitate 
 for an instant, or pause till she had knocked again at Joanna's 
 door. 
 
 There was no diflBculty about admission this time ; the door 
 was unlocked, and Joanna said " Come in " at once. 
 
 The girl was moving about the room with sudden, restless 
 
 change of position; she was neither faint nor in tears, and 
 
 except that she was absolutely colourless she looked very 
 
 much as usual — very much as she had looked two hours ago 
 
 -when she ran gaily upstairs, racquet in hand. 
 
 " It was good of you to come back, Hilda," she said ; " I was 
 going to send to you. I have been wondering if I could get 
 away from here to-night." 
 
 " Meredyth is looking up the Stranraer trains," said Lady 
 Hilda nervously. She seemed all at once held at a distance 
 
138 A BELF-DENYINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 and silenced by Joanna's complete composure. Words that 
 she wished to say would not come, and after all, what possi- 
 ble comfort could she or anybody else give to Joanna ? 
 
 "I could pack very quickly." 
 
 " But you will be tired " Lady Hilda ventured. 
 
 " Don't be silly, I am not so easily tired." 
 
 "Let me send my maid, and you can rest; or let me 
 pack ? " 
 
 " No, rdon't want to rest. Why should I ? I am not ill," 
 said Joanna sharply. "Hilda, what should I give the ser- 
 vants ? Ohj don't look at me like that 1 " she cried suddenly, 
 stamping her foot. 
 
 "Joanna, am I not to say a word ?" said Lady Hilda, 
 meekly drying her eyes. 
 
 " No," said Joanna in a hard voice. " Please find out about 
 the trains. My return ticket is by Fleetwood. " 
 
 " Oh, what does that matter ?" Hilda burst out. 
 
 "I suppose it is too late to telegraph to-night?" said 
 Joanna, beginning to disentangle the contents of her drawers, 
 which, characteristically, were in dire confusion. "Hilda, I 
 am sorry to be so troublesome, but will you see about a strong 
 cord for that box ? I don't — much — want the maid in." 
 
 Lady Hilda went over to Joanna's big box, tugged at it a 
 little till she pulled it half out of its corner, and then pushed 
 it back again. 
 
 "Oh, Joanna!" she said, " I can't bear it — I can't go on just 
 as if things were all right." 
 
 "You must go away, then, please," said Joanna, on her 
 knees before her chest of drawers ; then she turned round 
 and looked at Hilda for a minute, with something in her 
 brown eyes which had never been there before. 
 
 " Hilda, don't worry," she said more gently. "I don't think 
 I even mind much yet. I don't believe it." 
 
 "Joanna, is it possible that there is some mistake? Is 
 there any doubt " 
 
 " No, it is perfectly true. I know it is perfectly true, but all 
 the same I don't believe it," said Joanna, turning away to her 
 packing again. 
 
 "Let me help you," Lady Hilda volunteered recklessly, 
 having never packed for herself in her life. 
 
 "If you do, you must talk about something else— tennis or 
 hunting or something," said Joanna over her shoulder, but, 
 though Hilda religiously tried her best, the conversation 
 flagged exceedingly. 
 
 Presently, after a long silence, Joanna, who was sitting on 
 the floor, packing her hat box, said : " It is very curious, 
 Hilda, but, I don't feel anything— anything at all, except a 
 real, physical pain at my heart. If you did not know, I 
 
A SELF-DENYINa OBBINANCE. 139 
 
 could laugh and talk just as usual, and though I repeat it over 
 and over to myself I carCt make myself believe it. If you 
 look as if you were sorry it will drive me wild — it is for me to 
 be sorry." 
 
 "But, she is— my sister," said Lady Hilda in a low voice. 
 
 " Don't ! " said Joanna, in a voice of sharp pain. 
 
 And then Lady Hilda was silent again, fearing that words 
 migiit do more harm than good; but, indeed, just then they 
 could do neither one nor the other. 
 
 A little later she went to find Lord Meredyth, leaving 
 Joanna to finish her packing by herself. 
 
 " Well ?" he said. 
 
 " She wants to go at once." 
 
 " All right. The Stranraer train leaves Stinninghill at 9.53 
 this evening and reaches Stranraer at half-past six to-morrow 
 morning. Miss Conway must be ready at nine." 
 
 " But, Jack, you can't send that child on a night journey." 
 
 " I shall take her, naturally. We reach Larne at half-past 
 eight, and I shall wire from there to her father to meet us in 
 Belfast ; or for that matter I could take her right on." 
 
 "But, Jack, you were going to speak to-morrow ? " 
 
 " It can't be helped. I have ordered some dinner for myself 
 here, and told them to send something to Miss Conway's 
 room ; she must eat something before we start. Is she awfully 
 upset ? " 
 
 "She is not at all upset," said Lady Hilda, "and I don't 
 know in the least what to say to her. I am an awful duffer 
 when people are in trouble. Don't knock yourself out. Jack ; 
 you are uot half right yet after that fall." 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear girl; don't make me out so soft as 
 that. Willyou tell Miss Conway ?" 
 
 "Yes, I will go," Lady Hilda said, but she lingered. "I 
 shall not be here when you come back, Meredyth," she 
 said. 
 
 "I suppose you are right," he returned, with a short 
 sigh. 
 
 Tlien came a hurried putting together of Joanna's belong- 
 ings, and a hasty attempt on her part to eat something. 
 
 They went ofT while everybody else was at dinner; went off 
 in the dark, with a light rain falling; a kind of night which 
 seemed to Joanna appropriate. 
 
 She had said good-bye to nobody, not even to Lady Mere- 
 dyth, and only Lady Hilda and a couple of footmen came to 
 see til em oflF. 
 
 "Shall I never see you again, Joanna ? " Lady Hilda said. 
 
 But Joanna neither knew, nor just then cared much. 
 
 Then there was a very warm hand-clasp between Lord 
 Meredyth and Lady Hilda. He swung himself up to the 
 
140 A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 driving-seat, and she stood upon the steps alone, straining her 
 eyes after them as they disappeared into the darkness. 
 
 She turned back into the warm hall with a heavy sigh, and 
 the footmen closed out the darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " Never any more 
 While I live 
 Need I hope to see his face 
 As before." 
 
 As long as she lived Joanna never forgot that sudden, 
 strange night journey. 
 
 Lord Meredyth made her as comfortable as he could with 
 rugs and hot water bottles, and she lay vei-y quietly where he 
 had placed her all through the night. He dozed at intervals, 
 always waking up to find her quite still in her corner, with 
 patient, wide-open eyes looking straight in front of her. He 
 remembered how gay and happy she had been when she came 
 to Merevale. Was there no punishment for Nicholas Osborne 
 for this thing that he had done ? Was he to escape en- 
 tirely free ? With the girl's white face before him, Mere- 
 dyth would have believed nothing too bad for Nicholas. 
 
 He himself could do nothing for her; no thing except suggest 
 occasionally that she must be cold or hungi'y;, or draw the 
 rugs more closely round her, and alter the position of the hot- 
 water tin; attentions for which she thanked him, but which 
 rather bothered her than otherwise. 
 
 What was she thinking of all through the night, he won- 
 dered, while she lay there with that far-away look in her 
 eyes ? Was she burning with wounded pride and anger, or 
 full of a despair too deep for other thoughts ? 
 
 But just then Joanna was feeling nothing in particular, 
 except intensest self-pity, and that extremely substantial physi- 
 cal heartache. She was sorry for herself, and, interested in her 
 own troubles, she viewed her composure with a certain satis- 
 faction and admiration, all as if the girl who was to suffer 
 was somebody else. She felt this girl to be a person of some 
 importance and interest in the dignity of her grief, and that 
 little exti'a attentions and observances were her due. But 
 hovi could it be herself ? She who, in all her life, had never 
 had a trouble worse than a Zenana meeting on a sunny day ? 
 
 Yet it was true — quite true — that Nicholas had left her, and 
 she would neY;er see him again as long as she lived. And what 
 was worse, it was true that he did not love her any longer. 
 
 She repeated the words to herself over and over agam, but 
 
A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 141 
 
 it was no use — she could not believe it. Never to see Nicholas 
 again, who had sworn not three days ago to be true to her till 
 death should part them ; who had told her again and again 
 that nothing could come between them now, and who was 
 connected with everything that Joanna thought or cared or 
 dreamt about ? Say to herself what she liked, reason and 
 logic notwithstanding, she could not shake off the conviction 
 that it was only some very evil dream, that that heartache 
 would soon go away as all the little worries of her life had 
 gone. 
 
 The rumbling of the train vaguely soothed her, as she sat 
 there, tliinking and feeling nothing in particular, except that 
 she wanted Nicholas to take her in his arms and say it was all 
 nonsense, and that she was not to worry. 
 
 It was a dreary business getting on board the boat in the 
 darkness of a March morning, after the first completely sleep- 
 less night Joanna had ever spent in her life. She looked 
 very white and strange in the light of the saloon, and the 
 helpless, stunned look in her eyes made Meredyth very 
 anxious. He had a misty idea that she ought to be made to 
 cry, but how to set about it, and what he should do if he suc- 
 ceeded, he had not the faintest idea. 
 
 He selected a sheltered corner of the deck, where he could 
 establish himself in moderate comfort with a thick coat and 
 a pipe, and there he worried his head over Joanna, and cursed 
 Nicholas to himself till the}' reached Larue. 
 
 Then he put out his pipe and went to look for Joanna, 
 whom he found patiently and indifferently waiting where he 
 had left her. 
 
 " We are just in, Joanna," he said, calling her, quite uncon- 
 sciously, by her name ; "I want to ask you, would you like 
 me to telegraph to your father or your mother to meet us in 
 Belfast, or would you like me to take you straight on ? I am 
 quite at your service." 
 
 "I should like my father to come," said Joanna, after a 
 moment's consideration. 
 
 " Very well. We shall be in Belfast a little after nine, and 
 we can wait there till your father arrives." 
 
 "I am giving you such a lot of trouble," she said. 
 
 " I don't call this a trouble; but, if it were, I should con- 
 sider it my distinct duty to do anything I possibly could," said 
 Meredyth gravely, hesitating about an allusion to Nicholas. 
 "You won't care now. Miss Conway, but will you promise me 
 that if ever I — or Judith — can be of use to you, you will let 
 us know, as a matter of course ? " 
 
 " Oh, thank you; you have always been kind to me," said 
 Joanna indifferently. 
 
 Then came the landing, and another short train journey, 
 
142 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 ending with breakfast in the Avenue Hotel in Belfast, where 
 the arrival of a real, indisputable English earl was not an 
 everyday occurrence, and created rather a sensation. 
 
 "What will you do now, Joanna ? " Meredyth asked. " Will 
 you come out, or shall I take a room for you where you can 
 rest ? Your father can't be here till after three, I see." 
 
 "Thanks," said Joanna. "If you don't mind, I won't go 
 out." 
 
 So all he could do for the time being was to establish her in 
 a comfortable room, and later on to lunch with her and relate 
 his exploration of the streets. He had gone to Robinson & 
 Cleaver's and laid in a supply of shirts, after which he had 
 been reduced to looking in at the shop windows in absolute 
 despair, till he had suddenly i-un across a man in the Eifle 
 Brigade that he knew, and by him had been charitably taken 
 into the Ulster Club, where he had promised to dine that even- 
 ing before going on board his boat. 
 
 He was not going out again, but he would have a smoke till 
 Mr. Conway arrived, and he had brought some papers, if 
 Joanna would care to look at them. 
 
 "Lord Meredyth," said Joanna, in alow voice, "will you 
 please tell my father before lie comes to me ? " 
 
 And he, seeing no pleasant task before him, promised. 
 
 Whereupon she went upstairs to her old seat by the 
 window, and waited for her father with an indifference which 
 surprised her. 
 
 Downstairs Lord Meredyth was wondering to himself 
 whether things would be easier for Joanna if he were to tell 
 her all he knew about Nicholas Osborne and his uii worthiness. 
 
 He felt that, in her place, contempt and disgust would have 
 killed his love, but somehow he was not so sure about Joanna. 
 
 It was after four before she saw her father. She saw him 
 come into the hotel, she heard his step and his voice in the pas- 
 sage without any particular feeling, but when the door opened 
 and she saw his familiar, homelike face again, when the first 
 desolation of utter loneliness among strangers was at an end, 
 Joanna suddenly burst into sobs. 
 
 "Oh, father, I can't bear it — I can't bear it!" she said. 
 " My heart is breaking ! " 
 
 But it was not to comfort she awoke, it was to a first real- 
 isation of the trouble that had come to her. 
 
 " My poor child, my poor child," was all Mr. Conway said. 
 
 " Father. I wish he had died — now he will never be my own 
 again. Nothing can bring it right — nothing, nothing, 
 nothing ! " 
 
 Her words came with long, shivering sighs, and a despair- 
 ing agitation which alarmed her father, but presently she 
 grew calmer, and he tried to bring her pride to her aid. 
 
A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 143 
 
 " My darling, he is a scoundrel " he began, but Joanna 
 
 let him get no further. 
 
 "It is not true," she said, " and if anybody tells you that, 
 you must not believe it. It is my only comfort — the only 
 thing I have got left — to think that he is good, and that be did 
 love me. You don't know him, you know you don't know 
 him as I do ! " 
 
 " No, dear, no, my pet, you are quite right," said Mr. Con- 
 way hastily and meekly. 
 
 "I shall never talk to you like this again, father," said 
 Joanna. "I am going to be brave, and I shall get over it — 
 people always do. But, please, will you tell them all at home, 
 and say they are not to speak to me about it, but just be as if 
 nothing had happened ? " 
 
 " It shall be as you like," Mr. Conway said, " Even if you 
 ■would rather not go home to-morrow ? " 
 
 " It must be done," said Joanna, "and every day will only 
 make it harder. I should like to go at once, this very 
 minute." 
 
 "But we can't go to-night ; we could only get as far as 
 Coleraine. " 
 
 " I know, I know," Joanna said. " I don't want to be un- 
 reasonable. Let us go down to the boat to see Lord Meredyth 
 off, and then to the theatre. Shall we go to the theatre and 
 amuse ourselves ? " she ended excitedly. 
 
 They did not go to the theatre, but Joanna's quietude was 
 over, and Meredyth was amazed at the change. She could 
 not bear to be still for a moment ; she did not want to be left 
 alone ; she was utterly different from the quiet, impassive girl 
 he had left. 
 
 Joanna herself would have given worlds to regain that im- 
 passiveness and lack of feeling. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 " ' The suminer,' she said, ' cometh blithe and bold ; 
 
 And the crocns is lit for her welcoming ; 
 And the days will have gannents of purple and gold ; 
 
 But I would be left by the pale green spring. 
 With the snowdrops somewhere under the mould j 
 
 For I dare not think what the summer may bring.' " 
 
 The first few days at home went wonderfully well. Joanna 
 was angry with herself because Clitf House seemed to her 
 all at once small and poor, Ballylone people very dull, and 
 their interests stupid and petty. 
 
144 A SELF-DENYING OBDINANCE. 
 
 It was strange and hard to meet everybody again, but in the 
 first bitterness of her grief she neither felt tliat, nor tJie return 
 to the place where she liad been so happy with Nicholas, so 
 keenly as she would have done later on. 
 
 She was a good imitation of her old self, and unceasingly 
 active. She could not bear to be still for a moment, and so 
 contrived to get through the day well enough, and to put off 
 going to bed and being alone as long as possible. 
 
 She took up her bees again, her lessons with Polly, and her 
 carving ; she went to see the Clarkes, Mrs. McCrackeu, and 
 the rest of the village, and was resolutely gay. Being duly 
 warned, they said nothing to her, but they made up for it by 
 saying a great deal to each other. 
 
 Sir Nicholas they spoke of with bated breath, and discussion 
 of this thing that he had done, superseded all Church discus- 
 sions, ended all quarrels. Joanna they argued about with 
 more acrimony, some declaring her to be pitied, others assert- 
 ing that she had never cared for Sir Nicholas, and had simply 
 been attracted by his title. 
 
 Even Mr. Conway began to hope that things were not as 
 bad as he feared at first, but his wife knew better. Joanna's 
 very fearlessness and constant rebellions had made her a fa- 
 vourite with her stern, disagreeably virtuous mother, and the 
 hurt and insult to her daughter came home to her very thor- 
 oughly. 
 
 Mr. Conway consoled himself by calling Nicholas every bad 
 name he could think of, and throwing up his agency, which was 
 not a very great sacrifice, as it had always given him more 
 trouble than profit. Mrs. Conway meant to be kind, but 
 worried Joanna more than anyone else. 
 
 Pity was the reverse of a comfort to her ; she liked much 
 better to have Mrs. Morris say fretfully : "It was awful when 
 you were away, Joanna, with no one but Polly to interpret 
 between the mother and me." Or to have Polly put her arms 
 round her neck and say it had been so lonely without Aunt 
 Joanna, and that she hated to do all her lessons with grand- 
 mamma. 
 
 But just at first Joanna bore everything with a smile. 
 
 On the first Sunday a reaction came. She had resolutely 
 put away the memory of that day week, when she had gone 
 for a ride over the moor with Nicholas and the rest, and 
 had such a delightful return in the gloaming with him. She 
 had taken her prayer-book and sat down to try and fix her 
 attention on her collect and gospel, which had never taken 
 her so long to learn. She brought them to her mother of her 
 own accord before starting for church, and Mrs. Conway's 
 heart ached as she stood before her, with that resolute smile 
 on her face, waiting so indifferently till Polly had finished her 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 145 
 
 hymn— Joanna, who had always been so eager and so trouble- 
 somely impatient. 
 
 She stood there, as she had stood so many Sundays, ever 
 since she could remember, ever since she had been a little 
 thing, just able to learn the verse of a hymn, and Mrs. Con- 
 way's hard eyes filled with tears as she took the prayer-book 
 from her. 
 
 Joanna frowned, tried to collect her attention, and began 
 with a rush, but after the first sentence she stumbled. 
 
 "Then answered the Jews " Joanna looked all round 
 
 the room for inspiration. " Then answered the Jews-^^" 
 
 " And said unto Him " Mrs. Conway suggested. 
 
 "Then answered the Jews and said unto Him " repeated 
 
 Joanna, and came to a dead stop. 
 
 "Never mind to-day," Mrs. Conway said. "It doesn't 
 matter for once in a way." 
 
 Then Joanna broke out : 
 
 " Why don't you scold me? " she cried angrily, " I won't 
 have you pity me I " 
 
 She snatched the prayer-book from her mother, flung it 
 down on the floor and rushed out of the room. 
 
 " I thought that angelic frame of mind wouldn't last," said 
 Mrs. Morris, secure in her immunity from reply. 
 
 In her own room Joanna was walking up and down. 
 
 " Why .should I have been angry ? " she thought to herself. 
 " What does it matter 3 What does anything matter ? " 
 
 Why did everybody at home irritate her, and remind her. 
 Should she ever be content to settle down here, and squabble 
 over whose ducks were the best, and whether it was right or 
 wrong to turn to the east in the Creed, or would she be always 
 miserable and fighting against the pettiness of it ? 
 
 She knew it would not always seem like years and years to be 
 lived without Nicholas, and she did not even want him back ; 
 it could never be the same. But she was jealous, frightfully 
 jealous. 
 
 If he were to come to her this very minute, and ask her 
 to take him back, she should do it of course, but she should 
 never be happy or trust him again, so it was best as it was, 
 if only Lady Florence would make him happy. 
 
 Joanna flung herself down on her bed. In the distance she 
 could hear the church bells beginning, and the others were 
 assembling by the open hall door. 
 
 Mrs. Conway's voice came: "Miss Clarke says Mr. Jellett 
 never touches an egg unless it is hard boiled, so if he comes 
 up to supper this evening, Annie, you must not forget. Be 
 sure you lock the kitchen door, and don't loiter about and 
 come in during the prayers. Polly, that hole in your glove is 
 disgraceful. You are old enough to have mended it yourself, 
 
146 A 8ELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 or, for that matter, your mother might have troubled her- 
 self." 
 
 Then Mrs. Morris : "Polly, tell your grandmother that I 
 knew nothing about the hole till this mmute." 
 
 Next came an enquiry as to whether Mr. Conway was 
 going, and a shrill request from Polly for a penny to put into 
 the plate. 
 
 After which their footsteps and voices gradually died away, 
 and Joanna was left alone. 
 
 Was this the kind of life that was before her till she grew 
 an old woman ? 
 
 " I could bear it better if I had taken more trouble to have 
 all the enjoyment possible out of it," she said to herself. " If I 
 hadn't believed like a fool that it would go on forever, and 
 that Nicholas was unchangeable." 
 
 And then she told herself that it was her fault for not being 
 able to keep him, and made excuses for him, so utterly far- 
 fetched that even he himself could scarcely have supported 
 them 1 But she could not believe that a life begun as his was, 
 could be happy, or could be for his good. And yet she could 
 do nothing to help him — nothing to keep him straight and 
 make him a good man. She had made for herself an idol, and 
 it had been taken away from her, and she could do nothing 
 now to keep it clean and unsoiled, only pray and hope. 
 
 There were his presents to be put together, a thing which 
 had to be done, but "which seemed to Joanna like cutting the 
 last link between them. 
 
 She took them all out, looked at tl;em, touched them with 
 caressing fingers, and then resolutely packed them away. 
 
 There were the butterflies he had given her when he came 
 back from Dublin, a diamond bangle which he had brought 
 her for her birthday — various bangles and brooches which all 
 marked eras and which had all to be packed up and placed 
 in the box which was to hold them. Last of all there was the 
 ring, over which he had sworn to be true to her again and 
 again. Joanna shut up the case which held it with a very 
 sore heart. 
 
 She loved them all — every one, and it seemed like parting 
 with him over again. She did not send back his letters — they 
 were only a few, which it would pain her to send and him to 
 receive. 
 
 She tied them up, and placed tliem carefully away in her 
 hat-box, which locked, and so would be safe from Mrs. Con- 
 way's inspection ; then she corded and sealed her packet, tak- 
 ing a certain pained pleasure in its neatness, and directed it 
 to " Sir Nicholas Osborne, Care of Messrs. Cox & Company," 
 after which she felt that the worst was over. Surely nothing 
 could ever be like that half hour's good-bye. 
 
A 8ELF.DEN7IN0 OBDINANCE. 147 
 
 Nothing could have been more unwelcome to her just then 
 than Miss Chester's voice and self-satisfied little person, as she 
 made her way into the room, with the slightest pause for a 
 knock, and kissed Joanna effusively. 
 
 " I have been longing to see you, Joanna,'' she cried. " I 
 only came home last night, and as soon as I saw you were 
 not going to church with the others, I made up my mind that 
 I would not go either, but would come over to see you instead. 
 Tell me all about Merevale, and how you got on there. No 
 end of sport, I am sure. I met a man at the Garrison dance 
 in Belfast, who said he knew the Meredyths, and that it was 
 the rowdiest house he had ever stayed in." 
 
 Miss Chester brought it all out in a breath, and she was the 
 first person who had ventured to mention Merevale to Joanna 
 in anything but the most apologetic and hesitating manner. 
 It was a relief to talk to somebody who was not in the least 
 afraid of hurting her feelings ; Merevale people and interests 
 naturally filled her mind just now, and it was a relief to speak 
 of them. 
 
 V She looked at Miss Chester, and wondered how any admira- 
 tion or envy of her had ever entered her head ; she was fat, a 
 trifle coarse, and she had rather a vulgar voice. 
 
 And yet it was not she who had changed, and Joanna 
 wondered if she was becoming snobbish that the difference 
 between the people at Merevale and the people at Ballylone 
 struck her so keenly and disagreeably. 
 
 "I suppose you speak to nobody under a duke now," sug- 
 gested Miss Chester, to her utter confusion. " I hear you are 
 disengaged once more ? Did you see anyone there you liked 
 better — tell me all about it." 
 
 "I will talk of anything else you like," said Joanna steadily, 
 and Miss Chester had sufficient sense to follow her lead. 
 
 She was a capital listener, drinking in all Joanna told her 
 about the ways of Merevale, with sighs of envy. Miss Chester 
 would have given much to be fast, had she known exactly 
 how to set about it. 
 
 "And all this time," she said, "I have only had little 
 Jellett, who follows me about like a dog, and is sat upon by 
 the whole parish. He thinks the sun rises and sets on me," 
 she added impressively, but Joanna had heard this too often 
 about men who seemed to survive Miss Chester's recounted 
 coyness very comfortably. 
 
 " You don't mean to say nobody fell in love with you the 
 whole time you were there — with a houseful of men ? " she 
 said, with a distinct sense of superiority. She was quite cer- 
 tain that half masculine Merevale would have succumbed to 
 her charms, had she had the opportunity which was denied 
 to her, and wasted on Joanna. 
 
148 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "Nobody that I know of," said Joanna with a laugh. 
 " Lady Hilda said " 
 
 "There you are ! You can't open your mouth without 
 mentioning a lord or a lady or an earl or a duke— or even 
 a prince, " said Miss Chester, immensely impressed. "How are 
 you going to come back to Elizabeth's fads, and Mrs. O'Brien's 
 rheumatism? Do you know, your proUgi Richard O'Brien is 
 drinking himself and his mother into the workhouse." 
 
 And then Miss Chester floated away to Ballylone gossip, to 
 Miss Clarke's temper, and the way in whicli Elizabeth was 
 fancying herself into hysteria. How she had taken into her 
 head for one whole day that she could not eat, and for nearly 
 a week that her voice had gone. 
 
 But talk of what she liked, she always came back, as if 
 fascinated, to Merevale. 
 
 " Will they ask you to go there again, Joanna ? " she said. 
 
 And Joanna saiS she didn't know, and thought to herself 
 that nothing and nobody would ever persuade her to go there 
 again, 
 
 " I think you are very much to be envied," said Miss 
 Chester, with a long sigh. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " I stand by the river where both of us stood, 
 And there is but one shadow to darlieu the flood ; 
 And the path leading to it, where both used to pass. 
 Has the step but of one to take dew from the grass." 
 
 So life at Ballylone began again for Joanna. 
 
 Everything was the same — the episode which had brought 
 Sir Nicholas into her life had ended, and left no outward 
 trace, except a little sharpness and impatience in her manner. 
 
 Everything was the same. Mrs. Conway's new gentleness 
 soon passed away, and Zenana meetings, Sunday-school, even 
 the old question of stays, arose once more and worried as 
 much as ever. Elizabeth was still fretful and fanciful, Polly 
 constantly in trouble, and Mr. Conway engrossed in his farm, 
 and spending as much time and money over it as he could 
 possibly contrive to secure from his business. 
 
 Only Joanna was changed— even she herself hardly knew 
 how much. Every day her trouble seemed to her to grow 
 harder to bear, and there were times when she said to herself 
 that she could not bear it — that she could not stand life any 
 longer. But there was nothing else to be done, nothing but 
 to make up her mind to go on again. 
 
 Everything reminded her of Nicholas, and of how, just a 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 149 
 
 year ago, he had asked her to be his wife, and she had grown 
 from being flattei-ed and excited to care with all her strength. 
 
 The show carnation, which she had ruthlessly sacrificed to 
 him at their second meeting, was flowering again, and old 
 Kelly sometimes came over to discuss with her the bees 
 slie had given Nicholas. There was another school feast in 
 the meadow like the one to which he had come, turning 
 depression into joy, and presently there was another hay-cock 
 in the very spot where he had first told her he loved her. 
 
 She felt that in a new place things might not have been 
 quite so hard to bear, but there was no money to be wasted in 
 the Conway household, and Mrs. Conway would not be likely 
 to excuse any discontent with her home on Joanna's part. 
 
 So she never complained, and threw herself into her carving 
 as she had never done before. She made no change in her life, 
 only the irrepressible happiness, the sheer joy of living had 
 gone. 
 
 She looked after her bees as carefully as ever, but the 
 excitement of a swarm could not make her forget everything 
 in the woi-ld. 
 
 It was terribly, dreadfully dull at Ballylone. Joanna 
 missed Nicholas, and she missed the constant excitement of 
 her engagement, too. 
 
 Summer passed into autumn and autumn into winter, and 
 still she never heard of him — never heard what had become of 
 him more than if he had been dead, and sometimes the long- 
 ing to know was very hard to fight down. She did not even 
 know if he was married to Lady Florence or separated from her. 
 
 Lady Hilda wrote to her occasionally, characteristic letters, 
 which Joanna was glad to get, but which always brought the 
 pain back very freshly. She had gone through her Lon- 
 don season, and then had come a trip to Norway in some- 
 body's yacht, shooting in Scotland, and finally hunting 
 once more, which. Lady Hilda declared, she considered the 
 only thing worth living for. She said she would have 
 liked, above all things, to have been able to ask Joanna to 
 come to her, if she had had any settled home of her own to 
 ask her to, and that she was almost tempted to marry for the 
 purpose. As Joanna had declined Lord Dawley for herself, 
 what would she think of him for her. Lady Hilda ? 
 . But though she was very friendly and even affectionate, she 
 did not come over to Ballylone. 
 
 Lord Meredyth wrote once, a kindly letter, asking how 
 Joanna's carving was progressing, but saying no word of 
 Nicholas. 
 
 And so the months went on, till nearly a year had passed, 
 and even Ballylone had long ago ceased to talk of Nicholas 
 and Joanna, and her father and mother said and thought that 
 
150 A 8ELF-DENYIN0 ORDINANCE. 
 
 she had "got over it," while to Joanna every day seemed 
 only to make things fresher and clearer and to add to the 
 keenness of her pain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " ' Ye weep for those Who weep,' she said— 
 
 ' Ah, fools 1 I bid you pass them by. 
 Go weep for those whose hearts have bled 
 
 What time their eyes were dry. 
 Whom sadder can I say ? ' she said." 
 
 " Haven't you got anything left but monkeys, Polly? There 
 are six already on this side of the screen, and one must draw 
 the line somewhere." 
 
 " There were more of that than of any other advertisement. 
 There are some big pictures, and there is a little one of two 
 fashion-plate boys trundling a hoop, but it isn't very well cut 
 out, and another of Mr. Stanley making a speech, but I began 
 to paint that when I was little." 
 
 '■ Perhaps we had better have the monkey, then — seven is a 
 lucky number, and it just fits into this corner." 
 
 " And I don't suppose the people in the workhouse have 
 ever seen a monkey, do you. Aunt Joanna ? " Polly suggested 
 consolingly. 
 
 They were in one of the attics which was used as a lumber 
 room, and which Joanna often found convenient for odd pur- 
 poses, and they were very busy indeed with a screen which 
 was destined for the nearest workhouse, and which had lat- 
 terly been filling up all the time Joanna could spare from 
 her carving. 
 
 " Will it be ready for my birthday. Aunt Joanna, do you 
 think ? " said Polly anxiously, surveying their work with an 
 admiration which her aunt could not entirely share. 
 
 " Let me see — say a week for tho.se two sides, and then 
 binding and varnishing— oh, yea, Polly, we'll manage it 
 somehow, and if we have another wet day it will be quite 
 easy." 
 
 " And if grandmamma says I am not to go ? " 
 
 " Wait till she does say it, for I see no reason why she 
 should," said Joanna wisely. "Where's the paste brush? 
 You shall go, and choose the ward for the screen, too." 
 
 " I should like it to go in two places," said Polly; " in the 
 ward for the little girls, and in the ward Mrs. O'Brien will be 
 in if she goes. But I think, perhaps, as she hasn't gone yet, we 
 might make her a little one for herself, with more grown-up 
 things on it." 
 
 Joanna laughed. " We'll see about that when my ship 
 
A SELF-BENTINO ORDINANCE. 151 
 
 comes in," she said, giving the monkey a final dab witli her 
 brush. "There, Polly, will that do ? " 
 
 "Oh, do let me stick him myself. He looks just as if he 
 were going to jump on the poor little Pears' soap baby. Your 
 ship will come in after the Derry Bazaar, won't it. Aunt 
 Joanna ? " 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," said Joanna with a sigh. "I 
 don't know whether it will ever come in, Polly." 
 
 And then Polly gave a cry of dismay, disclosing that she 
 had rubbed her monkey, not wisely, but too well, to the extent 
 of removing one of its legs, and was inconsolable until the 
 discovery of a gaily painted bunch of flowers, with which she 
 proceeded artistically to conceal the deficiency. 
 
 " I think your carving is better than anybody else's," said 
 Polly consolingly. " I hope it will be the rabbit one that is 
 sold, and not the other, unless you get a great deal of money 
 for it." 
 
 " If either of them are sold at all, I shall be delighted," said 
 Joanna ; "I shan't expect a great deal of money for them." 
 
 "Just think when we take grandpapa through the bazaar, 
 and he looks at this and at that," said Polly. " And all at 
 once he will say : 'What a lovely bit of carving! I wish I 
 had money enough to buy it,' and you will say : 'I did it,' 
 and he will say : 'Not really and truthfully?' and then, 
 when you tell him it is truthful, he will say you can go to 
 London and have lessons. " 
 
 " I am afraid that is not very likely," said Joanna rue&jlly. 
 
 "And then you will'go away in the train to London," 
 Polly proceeded, "and will go to a master and say : 'I want 
 to learn to carve; will you teach me ?' and he will ask what 
 you have done, and you will show him the knobby bit, and he 
 will say : ' It is no good ; you carve too well to be taught; but 
 if you give me some things, I know a shop where I can sell 
 them for hundreds of pounds ' ; and then " 
 
 " Wait till we get so far, and then you can tell me the rest," 
 Joanna interrupted; "and in the meantime, Polly, we must 
 cut out a few more little things to fill up corners. There are 
 some more Lady''s Pictorials and Graphics on the window seat, 
 and another pair of scissors somewhere about." 
 
 Polly jumped up obediently, bearing the ruthless shortening 
 of her tale with equanimity. 
 
 "It is raining awfully, still," she said, from the window; 
 ''there is a little river running down one side of the avenue, 
 and the trees look so wet." 
 
 "Bring me tlie papers, child; I am only going to work for 
 half an hour more," said Joanna.' 
 
 " I am just gathering them. But oh, Aunt Joanna, who do 
 you think is coming up the avenue in aU the rain 2 " 
 
152 A SELF-DENTINa ORDINANCE. ' 
 
 " I haven't an idea, "saidJoanna. "Be quick! It's too early 
 for the postman. Someone with chickens to sell, perhaps ? " 
 
 "It is the very last person you would expect," said Polly, 
 and then Joanna suddenly sprang to her feet, with a mad, 
 crazy idea in her head. 
 
 "She has got on that oldest green waterproof, and her dress 
 is tucked up till it is as short as mine," supplemented Poljy, 
 and Joanna sat down again, and took up her scissors quietly. 
 
 After a moment she said : 
 
 " You can't mean Miss Clarke, Polly ; she would never come 
 out a day like this." 
 
 "But I do. How uncomfortable she looks! My golly I 
 there goes her umbrella — inside out or I'm a Dutchman ! " 
 
 "Polly, what did I say ? Next time I heard one of those 
 extraordinary expressions, no more story-books for a fort- 
 night." 
 
 ' ' I am sorry ; it is only because it was so sudden it made me 
 forget. Oh, come and look at her. Aunt Joanna ! What will 
 she do ? " 
 
 Whereupon Joanna yielded to curiosity and came to the 
 window, too, and together they watched Miss Clarke by a 
 valiant effort right her umbrella and struggle on to the house 
 through the wind and rain. 
 
 " What in the world can have brought her up here on a day 
 like this ? " said Joanna. 
 
 " She generally won't go out if it even dribbles," chimed in 
 Polly, " and to-day even you and I are staying in." 
 
 " Well, let's restrain our curiosity and go on cutting out," 
 said Joanna. " We'll hear all about it in good time, I am sure. 
 Here's a picture of a girl gathering flowers, that will just do to 
 cover that bare space, Polly, if you cut it out carefully." 
 
 Joanna had changed a little between the April afternoon, 
 just two years ago, when she had escaped from a Zenana 
 meeting to join Miss Chester in Ballylone, with the loss of her 
 stays her deepest trouble, and this April afternoon when she 
 sat in the lumber room trying to direct Polly's cutting-out. 
 
 Her soft wavy hair was as pretty as ever, and had more 
 trouble bestowed upon it than in those days, and her brown 
 eyes had somehow gained a very wistful look. She was no 
 longer angular, no longer even so unbecomingly slight ; in fact 
 she was waking up latterly to the fact that she had a good 
 figure. Her manner had become more assured, and her spirits 
 had ceased to be outwardly subject to such frequent ups and 
 downs. 
 
 That year since her return to Ballylone had taught her a 
 good many things, and one lesson she had found harder than 
 all the rest— she had learned to wait. To wait from day to day, 
 and week to week, and month to month, hoping against hope 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBDINANCE. 153 
 
 to hear of or from Nicholas. To be filled with absurd expec- 
 tation and bitterest disappointment twice every day at post- 
 time, to be roused to excitement by every telegram or message, 
 and all in silence and without a word to anyone. And 
 hardest of all, she had to learn to sit still, to realise her utter 
 powerlessness to raise a finger to help this man from going to 
 destruction — this man who had been everything in the world 
 to lier one morning, and absolutely nothing when the night 
 came. 
 
 She did not allow herself to realise how much Nicholas was to 
 her still ; she was wilfully blind to the knowledge that if she 
 was more careful about her dress and her hair now than she 
 had been, it was all in some vague way for him; if she worked 
 hard, and sometimes hopefully, at her carving, it was with 
 the thought that one day if she was ever known in the world, 
 he might know. 
 
 Idleness had never been a failing of hers, and now she was 
 busy from morning till night, and so was sometimes content ; 
 but Joanna was very young still and she did not want to be 
 content — she wanted to be happy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 " 'Tis long since thou and I have met, 
 And yet methinke it were unkind 
 Those moments to forget." 
 
 "Polly, it's sold ! Take the letters quick, child, till I read 
 what they say." 
 
 Joanna bundled the rest of the post into Polly's hands, and, 
 though they were in the middle of Ballylone street, that faith- 
 ful little sympathiser executed a war-dance of triumph. 
 
 "Which of them is sold, Aunt Joanna ? Is it the knobby 
 one, or the little one with rabbits ? " 
 
 "It is the knobby one, as you call it. Fancy, Polly, even 
 before the exhibition is opened 1 I am to get three whole 
 guineas and a half ! " 
 
 " I am sorry it is that one, " said Polly ; " it took such a long 
 time to do and it was so pretty. I think you ought to have 
 got hundreds of pounds for it, Aunt Joanna." 
 
 " You little goose— just think what a lot three guineas and 
 a half can buy ! Tou shall choose something awfully nice 
 ■when we go up to Derry," said Joanna. 
 
 "I should like a little tea-cup best of anything," said Polly 
 at once; "a little tea-cup that I could have my own tea in, 
 different to anybody else. Aunt Joanna, Mrs. Moreland is 
 
154 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 nodding to you from the window, and she looks so funny 
 without her cap." 
 
 " What an odd thing to choose," said Joanna, " because you 
 know your tea is all the same whatever kind of a cup it is in. 
 Polly, who in the world is the man in knickerbockers ? He 
 looks like a gentleman, and what is more, I believe he is 
 going to speak to us ! " , 
 
 And even as she spoke, a tall, red-haired, freckled young 
 fellow hurried across the street to shake her hand in the ^^ry 
 warmest possible manner. 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Conway," he said effusively; " I am 
 awfully glad to see you again." 
 
 " How do you do," said Joanna less warmly. 
 
 " What a long time it is since we last met 1 Doesn't it 
 seem an age f " said the unknown, pausing to shake hands 
 with Polly. 
 
 "Time passes quickly," said Joanna, with commendable 
 originality. She could not say that the time since their last 
 meeting had seemed long to her, as she had not the vaguest 
 idea when they had met before. She tried to remember all 
 the men she had known at Merevale, in the faint possibility of 
 one of them having dropped from the clouds. It was rather 
 hard to tell a person who apparently met her with such glad- 
 ness that she had not the remotest idea who he was. 
 
 " I have been in here, actually trying to shop ! " he went on 
 with a laugh. " I am in sore want of tobacco, but I can't get 
 anything fit to smoke, so I must run up to Derry to-morrow. 
 Can I come to see you some time ? " 
 
 Who on earth was he ? Joanna's blank look betrayed her. 
 
 "Positively I believe you don't know me!" he said 
 reproachfully. "Well, this is humiliating and no mistake." 
 
 "I am very sorry," Joanna said, "and it is very odd. I 
 know so few people " 
 
 " If that is the style in which you generally apologise. Miss 
 Conway, I strongly advise you to drop it," said the stranger, 
 who fortunately seemed by no means offended. " Don't crusli 
 me any further, but try if you can't remember a cock-fight in 
 the days of your youth." 
 
 " A cock-fight ? " said Joanna, completely bewildered. 
 
 "This is worse than ever," said the stranger, shaking his 
 head. " A cock-fight by the river brim, a simple cock-fight, 
 was to you— while to me it has been a dream— a remembrance 
 — a — a — you know the sort of thing ?" 
 
 " I remember you, I remember you, Mr. Kelly ! " Joanna 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "And about time, too, after wounding all my tenderest sus- 
 ceptibilities," said Mr. Kelly, taking off his hat mockingly. 
 
 "You see I recognised you at once by your capacity for 
 
A SELF-BENYINQ ORDINANCE. 155 
 
 talking nonsense," said Joanna lightly. "And I really am 
 glad to see you." 
 
 " I suppose you never took suflBcient interest in me to 
 enquire if I had passed my examination," said Mr. Kelly 
 reproachfully. "And it will be news to you that I am home 
 on first leave from Egypt ? '' 
 
 "Well, we only met once, you see," said Joanna. "And 
 anxious as I was to hear, people might have thought it 
 odd " 
 
 " Only met once! How can you look at me and say that ? 
 It is quite true we onlj' spoke once, but haven't I seen you 
 about three times a week in Ballylone, ever since you were a 
 baby " 
 
 " I am sorry to disagree with you, Mr. Kelly," said Joanna, 
 laughing. "Polly, what do you want ? " 
 
 " Only to say that if you can't get both the tea-cup and the 
 screen for Mrs. O'Brien, I think"! would rather you got the 
 screen," said Polly, in a stage-whisper. 
 
 " Which reminds me I have got to see Mrs. O'Brien on our 
 way home, " said Joanna. " So I had better say good-bye, Mr. 
 Kelly." 
 
 But Mr. Kelly, being very hard put to it to get rid of his 
 time, and by no means shy, did not allow himself to be dis- 
 posed of so easily. 
 
 "You are the most ungrateful, unfriendly girl I ever met," 
 he said. " On meeting me you snub and repress me in every 
 possible way, and now your one idea is to get rid of me as 
 quickly as possible. I am particularly good at visiting old 
 women. Speak for me, Polly." 
 
 " You can't go and see Mrs. O'Brien, for she is in bed," said 
 Polly sedately. 
 
 "You'll see how easily she and I will live through that, " 
 said Mr. Kelly reassuringly. 
 
 ' ' Come along, then, " said Joanna, at which Polly was a little 
 shocked. 
 
 But she found Mr. Kelly immensely amusing, and had 
 sidled round to him and taken his hand before they reached 
 O'Brien's, where the lady of the house was in bed in the 
 kitchen, in an atmosphere of smoke which nearly choked the 
 whole party, with nobody to attend to her but an occasional 
 kindly neighbour, and a ne'er-do-well son who came in drunk 
 every night. 
 
 But from this paradise not even a glowing account of Polly's 
 projected screen could persuade her to move to the workhouse. 
 
 Mr. Kelly made himself most agreeable, and proved much 
 better able to find subjects of conversation than Joanna, pro- 
 ducing also an extremely welcome shilling, |^and altogether 
 making himself a welcome guest. 
 
156 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Then he walked to the Cliff House with Joanna and Polly, 
 interviewed Mrs. Conway without any alarm, (whereas his 
 sisters shook in their shoes when she spoke to themj , and finally 
 departed, much to Polly's regret. 
 
 " Isn't he funny and nice ?" she said to Joanna. 
 
 " Very well for once," said Joanna. "But a pereon who is 
 always trying to be funny is rather tii-esome after a little. 
 Polly, we have never found out what Miss Clarke came up in 
 the rain for yesterday, and I am sure there is a mystery." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 " Well, be it so or be it son't, you muBt be a common scholar afore yon can 
 be an uncommon one." 
 
 The three days before the Derry Exhibition were a long time 
 passing, and caused much anxiety to Joanna and Polly. 
 
 At first Mrs. Conway could see no reason why Joanna should 
 want to go, and when her resistance on the point was over- 
 come withoutany verygreatdifflculty, she took a stand on the 
 objection that to take Polly was really a sheer waste of money. 
 There would be her ticket to Derry, her entrance to the exhi- 
 bition, and probably her tea there — it was utter nonsense for a 
 child of her age. 
 
 Polly nearly made herself ill from excitement and disap- 
 pointment and made matters worse by being exceedingly 
 naughty, so that when Joanna made an appeal to Mr. Conway 
 for her, she thought it almost hopeless. But to her surprise 
 he said at once that if she wished it Polly should go, and she 
 heard him say to her mother : " I am very glad to see 
 Joanna take so much interest in Polly and her carving, 
 especially just at present." 
 
 Joanna puzzled over this speech till Polly's delight in her 
 pei'mission to go made her forget it. 
 
 " I do so wan t to see the knobby one once again, " she said ; " I 
 want to see how they both look among other people's things, 
 and to hear what grandpapa says when you turn round to him 
 and say: ' This is done by me.' " 
 
 But all was very far from being right yet. The very mom- 
 ino: of the exhibition Mr. Conway met Joanna and Polly on 
 on their way to get ready and said : " I thought I wasn't very 
 keen about the exhibition, Joanna, so I asked Mrs. Chester if 
 she would look after you and Polly." 
 
 "Oh, father ! " said Joanna blankly, " aren't you coming? " 
 
 "It's not much in my line," said Mr. Conway, "and be- 
 sides I have some business in Derry." 
 
A SELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 157 
 
 " Oh, make him come 1 " said Polly, pulling at Joanna's 
 dress. 
 
 "I should — particularly— like you to come, father," said 
 Joanna. 
 
 Mr. Conway could be good-natured enough when his good 
 nature did not entail an afternoon's boredom, but he had no 
 intention of allowing it to carry him so far, and Joanna 
 soon found it was no use. Her projected surprise could not be 
 carried out. 
 
 " Father," she said, "the reason I want you to go is this : I 
 sent up some of my carving, and I want you to see what you 
 think of it among the carving of other people." 
 
 ' ' You sent up carving ! Well, upon my word, you are a con- 
 ceited little monkey ! " said Mr. Conway, beginning to laugh, 
 while Joanna grew a brilliant crimson. 
 
 "She is not conceited," broke in Polly indignantly; "it is 
 lovely, and everybody thinks so." 
 
 " It is all very well for you to amuse yourself, Joanna, but 
 it is absurd for you to send your work in among that of people 
 who have had plenty of lessons," said Mr. Conway, laugiiing. 
 . "It has beeu bought," said Polly, in defence of Joanna's 
 flaming cheeks. 
 
 "Yes, father, I got three guineas and a half for one bit," 
 said Joanna, and Mr. Conway was truly and unflatteringly 
 astonished. 
 
 " I hope it is not from somebody who has given the money 
 out of kindness," he said. "Nothing would annoy me more. 
 Joanna, you ought to consult somebody before you do such 
 mad things." 
 
 At which Joanna held Polly's hand tight and said nothing. 
 
 They dressed in depressed silence. Joanna's inner con- 
 sciousness, which told her that, little as her work satisfied her, 
 there was something in it, had not for the time been able to 
 withstand Mr. Conway's unflattering amazement. She felt 
 that she had indeed been conceited and ridiculous. 
 
 But the remembrance of that substantial three guineas and 
 a half, which proved that somebody had not thought her 
 ridiculous, was a comfort, and she presently ran downstairs 
 with Polly, and bade a hasty good-bye to her mother with a 
 lighter heart. 
 
 It gave her rather a start to be called back from the hall 
 door, and for a moment she was afraid that Mr. Conway had 
 told everything, and that her mother was going to interfere 
 and keep her at home ; but Mrs. Conway only said : "Joanna, 
 when shall I succeed in teaching you to shut the door after 
 you? You are worse than your father." She bore the 
 reproof with equanimity, shut the door with much meekness, 
 and they were off. 
 11 
 
158 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Till the very last minute she did not know whether her 
 father was coming to the exhibition or not, and now she 
 would not have asked him for worlds, but just before they 
 met the Ch esters in Shipquay Street he turned to her with a 
 smile, and said : " Well, Joanna, I suppose I must go and see 
 this wonderful carving." 
 
 There were plenty of things to be seen before they got to 
 tlie carving, and Joanna would not have seemed in a hurry 
 for the world, though she could not take the same interest in 
 silks and laces as she would have done at another time. 
 
 Fortunately for her, Mr. Conway did not take any interest 
 in them at all. 
 
 At last. There was " the knobby one," a mirror frame 
 carved with acorns and oak leaves, which had been Polly's 
 favourite, and which Joanna herself had thought good. But 
 how insignificant it looked now among all the rest, and 
 close — so unfortunately close to a mantel-shelf by her 
 admiration, Grinling G-ibbons. 
 
 Never before had she been so glaringly aware of its defects ; 
 she felt that she had indeed been conceited and absurd, that 
 those three and a half guineas were ridiculous over-payment, 
 and ought to be returned. 
 
 But the effect on Mr. Conway was precisely the opposite. 
 Knowing nothing about carving, Joanna's struck him as being 
 quite as good as any of the rest, just at the moment when she 
 was realising what a vast gulf lay between her and success. 
 
 " Upon my word, Joanna, it is wonderfully good — ^remark- 
 ably good ! " he said. 
 
 "Oh, father, but look what they have put it near — look at 
 that mantel-shelf, it makes me feel so — infinitesimal ! " said 
 Joanna. 
 
 " Well, for my part, I think yours is every hit as good, and 
 I really think I am unprejudiced," said Mr. Conway. 
 
 " Oh, can't you see the difference — can't you see the awful 
 difference ? " said Joanna. 
 
 "It may be a little more — finished," said Mr. Conway, at 
 which Joanna laughed quietly to herself, knowing that the 
 greatest fault in her work was that is was finished too 
 much. 
 
 But she laughed no longer, when her father in his satisfac- 
 tion passed on his information to the Cbesters, and from them 
 to young Kelly, who had strolled up with them. 
 
 She was annoyed, till their persistent admiration of her 
 work, as compared with that of Grinling Gibbons, made her 
 laugh. Joanna herself knew very well what a wide difference 
 lay between them. 
 
 She stood a little apart from her own work and admired, 
 and wondered if she would ever have money enough to buy a 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBDINANCE. 159 
 
 Grinling Gibbons, and dreamed of a house with an over-mantel 
 like the one in Merevale billiard room. 
 
 "It is intense modesty that prevents you from admiring 
 your own work ? " said Marcus Kelly. 
 
 '"It is merely common sense," said Joanna. 
 
 " Which is rather hard on the rest of us." 
 
 " Oh, I know a good deal of what you say is kindness," said 
 Joanna. "No, I am not fishing for compliments. I would 
 give anything in the world — I would give years of my life, to 
 be able to carve like that." 
 
 Mr. Conway went away after a time and Joanna and Polly 
 and the Chesters had tea together, under the auspices of Mr. 
 Kelly and a couple of other men whom Miss Chester had 
 managed io pick up. 
 
 Mr. Kelly sat next to Joanna, but he did not find her very 
 conversational, and, being averse to silence, was obliged to 
 console himself with a kind of chaffing flirtation with Miss 
 Chester. 
 
 In the middle of which appeared the small form of Mr. 
 Jellett, behind a huge bunch of roses that he was bearing to 
 his admiration. 
 
 Whereupon Marcus Kelly, for sheer perversity, deserted 
 Miss Conway and betook himself to Miss Chester's side, to 
 carry on a very respectable amount of half-whispered con- 
 versation. 
 
 " Don't make me jealous," he said. " Tou don't want those 
 flowers, I am sure, and for that matter they are half-withered. " 
 
 " It would be a long time before you gave me any flowers, 
 withered or otherwise, Mr. Kelly," rejoined Miss Chester. 
 
 " Well, just wait till next time I am in Ballylone," said Mr. 
 Kelly. 
 
 Polly listened with all her ears, and the deepest interest, but 
 Joanna's thoughts were far away. 
 
 She proved it by a completely irrelevant answer, for which 
 Mr. Kelly reproached her later on. 
 
 "Miss Conway," he said, " why don't you like me? lam 
 really quite a likeable sort of person." 
 
 ' ' Like you ? " said Joanna, who was not thinking about him 
 at all ; "I am sure I like you — why shouldn't I ? " 
 
 " Well, the only day you were ever decently civil to me was 
 on the cock-fight afternoon, and then the next thing you did 
 was to crush all my aspirations by refusing to come to our 
 dance." 
 
 "Well, I didn't do that with a good will," said Joanna, 
 laughing; " I begged to go — I absolutely cried to go ! " 
 
 " Come, now, that's better," said Mr. Kelly cheerfully, "and 
 by the time I have come over and seen all your carvings we 
 shall be the best of friends. You are going to agree to that, I 
 
160 A.8ELF-.BENTIN6 ORDINANCE. 
 
 know, when you think how dull I am. Not one single soli- 
 tary person to speak to near us, except about three. " 
 
 "There's no doubt about it, you are a real true Irishman," 
 said Joanna. 
 
 And then they went on a tour of inspection round the 
 rooms, chaperoned by Polly, and became very friendly and 
 merry. 
 
 But something better than the three guineas and a half 
 came to Joanna as the result of that day's expedition. A.s 
 she and Polly walked up to Cliff House with Mr. Conway, 
 he said : "After this, Joanna, I suppose you consider your- 
 self beyond lessons ? " 
 
 " Oh, father ! " said she breathlessly. 
 
 " Because if you don't, I see no reason why I could not 
 arrange for you to go, say once a week, into Derry, if I can 
 get hold of anybody who teaches carving." 
 
 "Oh, father," said Joanna rapturously, "I should be grate- 
 ful to you forever ! If you can afford it, I can tell you of 
 people who teach there." 
 
 " So you don't consider you know too much to require in- 
 struction ? " said Mr. Couway. 
 
 " It is what I have loeea longing for ever since I left school," 
 returned Joanna. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " If ye loved only what were worth yonr love, 
 Love were clear gain, and wholly well for yon." 
 
 "What in the world is this latest fad that I hear, Elizabeth? 
 Mrs. Conway says that you have taken it into your head to 
 decline to come downstairs for the last few days ? " 
 
 Miss Chester, with the freedom of old acquaintance, had 
 made her way to Mrs. Morris' room unannounced, which was 
 not a very frequent proceeding on her part. She and Eliza- 
 beth had played together when they were children, but now 
 she very much preferred Joanna as a companion, and by dint 
 of persuading herself that they were on a level had come to 
 believe it. 
 
 Miss Chester was nine-and-twenty, and looked young for 
 her age — she would have looked much younger had she 
 not insisted on adopting the dress and manners of a girl of 
 seventeen. 
 
 But the amusing ignorance and charming simplicity which 
 had been delightful twelve years ago, were hardly so much 
 appreciated now, and she was beginning to find it requii-ed an 
 effort to retain the admirers without whom life to her was not 
 
A SELF^DENTIim OBDINANOE. 161 
 
 worth living. Consequently year by year she grew a little 
 less particular, as year by year she grew a little fatter and 
 coarser. 
 
 In the days when Elizabeth had thought it the most delight- 
 ful thing that could happen to escape from her mother's sur- 
 veillance to Miss Chester's championship, young men had 
 run after Miss Chester, but now it was she who ran after 
 young men. 
 
 This afternoon Elizabeth was by no means ovei-joyed to see 
 her visitor, and did not attempt to pretend that she was. 
 
 " It is all very well for you who don't know what it is to 
 feel ill to talk of fads," she said, in a lachrymose voice. " As 
 for me, I scarcely know what a day without a headache is 
 like." 
 
 " If you would get up, and go about and amuse yourself, 
 you would feel twice as well," said Miss Chester trenchantly. 
 
 " You are like the rest— you don't understand. I have no 
 more power to move off this sofa than a baby, let Dr. More- 
 land and Joanna say what they like. It is not likely that I 
 would stay here from choice." 
 
 "There's nothing but hysteria the matter with you," said 
 Miss Chester unsympathetically. " One day you take it into 
 your head that you can't speak, another that you can't eat, 
 and now that you have got a chill in your legs. Look here, 
 let me put you on your feet and see what happens." 
 
 At which kind offer Elizabeth screamed. 
 
 " Oh, don't excite yourself; you are a goodly weight, and I 
 have no overwhelming desire to exert myself," said Miss 
 Chester. "I only came up because I was alone with Mrs. 
 Conway, and I felt an irresistible inclination to say something 
 shocking coming over me. Look here! does Joanna know 
 tliis about Sir Nicholas ? I haven't liked to speak to her 
 about it, and her head seems full of nothing but carving." 
 
 "She knows there is some mystery about, but I don't 
 think she knows what it is," said Elizabeth, " I suppose you 
 know that Miss Clarke posted up here to tell us the very first 
 minute she heard of it ? " 
 
 "I have no doubt she was in ecstacies at having such a 
 splendid piece of news," said Miss Chester ; "but isn't somebody 
 going to tell Joanna ? It will be rather hard luck if it is 
 sprung upon her." 
 
 " So I think, and there is the chance of her hearing any 
 day — not that I suppose she cares." 
 
 "Did she ever care for him, or was it .just the case of a 
 title ? " said Miss Chester. But Elizabeth did not know. 
 
 " She never speaks of him," she said, " so I suppose she has 
 got over it. If she would only believe me, she is lucky. A 
 man is everything charming, and you marry him, and all 
 
162 A BELF-DENTINa OBDISANCE. 
 
 goes well for a bit till children come and you lose your looks, 
 and he goes out and amuses himself somewhere else. And if 
 a vomnan tries to amuse herself everybody is up in arms — no, 
 she is to stay at home and mind the baby." 
 
 "Well, I don't know," said Miss Chester meditatively; "I 
 always tease the men immensely when they ask me to marry 
 them; but perhaps some day, if somebody was particularly 
 charming " 
 
 " Mr. Jellett, for instance ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said Miss Chester, with a delighted laugh. "Poor 
 little man, I am very sorry for him, and he is so devoted! 
 But he is not my ideal " 
 
 " I am very sorry, Edith, but I really am not equal to talk- 
 ing any more," said Mrs. Morris, seeing an account of the 
 numerous pangs and heart-burnings caused by Miss Chester 
 looming before her. 
 
 But when that animated and rotund young woman had 
 taken her departure, Elizabeth bestowed a short period of 
 reflection upon Joanna, instead of upon her own ills and mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 If there was anybody in the world besides herself that Mrs. 
 Morris cared about, it was her sister. Polly suffered in her 
 mind from her rather ignoble and very rancorous hatred of 
 Polly's father, and, besides, the little girl had not unnaturally 
 grown to prefer the aunt who taught her, played with her, 
 and, still better, loved her, to the mother who largely ignored 
 her. This had aroused her mother's rather unjust resent- 
 ment, which was kept up by bitter jealousy. 
 
 But Mrs. Morris was not angry with Joanna, which was 
 also unjust. 
 
 She was not even angry when that young woman came to 
 enquire with some indignation if Elizabeth was going down to 
 supper. 
 
 Joanna was not absolutely certain whether Mrs. Morris 
 deserved pity or a good shaking, and was rather inclined 
 towards the shaking. She had not much sympathy with 
 people who lay on sofas and read novels all day long — she wlio 
 had been working even harder than usual with her carving, 
 with the encouragement of her first Derry lesson. 
 
 Her head was full of dreams and projects, interrupted for a 
 few unwelcome minutes by supper, which was a rapid meal at 
 Cliff House. 
 
 ' ' Joanna, one minute, " said Elizabeth ; ' ' there is something 
 I want to tell you. I daresay it will annoy you. but don't get 
 excited, for goodness' sake; my head is aching." 
 
 "Is it about my carving ? Does father not mean me to 
 have any more lessons '{ " said Joanna. 
 
 " Oh, do try to modulate your voice,'' said Elizabeth fret- 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 163 
 
 fully. " It has nothing to do with your carving; it is about 
 Sir Nicholas Osborne." 
 
 Joanna turned very white ; nobody spoke to her of Sir 
 Nicholas, and his familiar name sounded very strangely after 
 this long silence. 
 
 Her voice was low enough when she spoke. 
 
 "Nicholas ? " she said ; " tell me." 
 
 " He is coming to the Lodge next week. Don't look at me 
 like that, or I shall think the others were right to keep it from 
 you as long as possible." 
 
 Joanna sat down abruptly, with the colour creeping slowly 
 into her cheeks again, and there was a silence. 
 
 Her calmness, her interest in her carving — it was all gone 
 in one minute, lost in a mad unreasonable excitement — was it 
 joy or pain ? 
 
 "Not alone ? " she said. 
 
 " Not alone," repeated Elizabeth. 
 
 "Then I don't believe it ! " said Joanna; " it is not true— he 
 would not be so cruel." 
 
 " He is a scoundrel enough for anything " began 
 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 "I won't hear it ! How dare you say it ? It is not true, 
 and if it were, it would be because he could not help it." 
 
 Mrs. Morris' fingers had gone to her ears. " Oh, Joanna, 
 can't you think of anybody but yourself ? " she said plain- 
 tively; "you are causing me absolute agony, and if you had 
 only waited and let me finish what I was going to say, it 
 would have been all right, for in this case I do believe it is the 
 want of money." 
 
 " I will never hear you speak of him like that," said Joanna 
 proudly. 
 
 " But you are not going to persuade me that you are such a 
 fool as to care for a man who has treated you so abominably, 
 and whose very name you haven't heard for a year ? " 
 
 " Not care for him ? " said Joanna passionately. "Do you 
 think I don't care for him because I don't speak ? Do you 
 think that because I don't wear his ring on my finger I have 
 forgotten all that I promised him when he gave it to nie ? " 
 
 "Oh, my dear child, do take things more quietly," Mrs. 
 Morris pleaded. "If you haven't forgotten, the sooner you do 
 forget the better. Follow his example." 
 
 " He has not forgotten. And if he had a thousand times 
 over, I never shall. I suppose you think that because I laugh 
 and talk I don't care any longer. Don't you know that every- 
 thing reminds me of him — that sometimes, when I am trying ■ 
 to be merry and feel like other people, suddenly something 
 comes into my head, and I go nearly mad. Do you know 
 that sometimes I go up to my room, and repeat his name 
 
164 A SELF-BENTINO OBDlNANCE. 
 
 over and over again out loud, just because I can't bear ever 
 to hear it ? " 
 
 The hot, passionate words came to Elizabeth as a revelation. 
 She had never heard her sister mention Nicholas' name since 
 her return from Merevale. 
 
 " You are very forgiving, I must say," she remarked with 
 a sneer. 
 
 But, though her face grew crimson at her sister's tone, 
 Joanna said nothing more. Elizabeth could not understand — 
 she had never understood, and Joanna, remembering her own 
 happiness two years ago, was sorry for her sister. 
 
 She had forgotten about Elizabeth's legs, she had forgotten 
 about supper, she had even forgotten about her carving les- 
 sons, as she went to her own room and shut herself in with 
 her excitement. ' 
 
 She was glad — glad in a way which was not far removed 
 from pain, but which still was gladness unmistakable. And 
 she was a wicked girl to be glad. What right had she to 
 be so excited that she scarcely knew what she was doing, to 
 tremble so that she could not stand, and to feel as if her whole 
 tranquil world had been turned upside down in the last five 
 minutes ? None whatever; she was nothing to him, and he 
 must be nothing to her. 
 
 If he came to Ballylone she must make it her business to 
 avoid meeting him, and if she did meet him it must be as a 
 stranger. 
 
 It would seem so natural for him to come and take her in 
 his arms and kiss her, and yet it would be as wrong to be 
 kissed by him now as to be kissed by— young Kelly. He was 
 no more to her than that. It seemed so impossible. 
 
 "Oh, how shall I bear to see them together?" Joanna 
 thought to herself; " how can I trust myself when he is there ? 
 I wish, I wish, I wish, I could go away — anywhere ! " 
 
 " Aunt Joanna, aren't you coming down to supper? We 
 have nearly finished, and the pancakes you wanted specially 
 are cold. " 
 
 What an age seemed to have passed since she had last heard 
 Polly's shrill little voice, and had been annoyed at having to 
 leave her carving ! 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 165 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVII. 
 
 " It appears to me that since I have been sitting here I have heard a 
 great deal of vain and unprofitable couverBation." 
 
 " I WANT half a pound of your best butter, and a dozen 
 eggs," said old Kelly grumpily. "And it's the last time I will 
 be doing Mrs. Carroll's errands." 
 
 ''She be to be very busy now," Mrs. McCracken said, with 
 her usual inclination to smooth matters over. "It is true, 
 isn't it, that Sir Nicholas Osborne is going to bring his lady 
 home?" 
 
 " And a nice one she will be," said old Kelly, seating him- 
 self on the edge of the herring-barrel, "leaving her own 
 wedded husband to go off with the like of him " 
 
 "You might keep a civil tongue in your head about your 
 own master," remonstrated Mrs. McCracken. "It is I that 
 can't forgive him for the way he treated Miss Joanna. But 
 there is no being up to the ways of the quality ; they are not 
 just like other folk." 
 
 " I am not of your way of thinking there, Mrs. McCracken," 
 said old Kelly, who was known never to agree with any- 
 body. "Folk is very like each other, be they what they 
 may. Do you mind Andy Devlin, him who used to live out 
 by Laverty's mill ? Likely you have heard tell of him, any- 
 way. Well, he was going to be married on Rachel Sampson — 
 not Mary, you'll mind, though it was her he took in the 
 end " 
 
 "Yes, I mind all about it," said Mrs. McCracken, with a 
 vain effort to stop the recital. But old Kelly only settled him- 
 self more firmly on the herring-barrel, while the ends of his 
 coat found a savoury resting-place among the herrings. 
 
 " Well, Eachel, she was that set up, she was near crazy, for 
 she was a poor puny little woman, and she had never thought 
 to get a man of her own. And one day says she to him : 
 'Andy, I wish you would go over to the train to meet my 
 sister,' and says he, ' I'll go and welcome,' and when he come, 
 there was Mary Sampson, and a right sonsy girl she was, not 
 like her sister." 
 
 "I mind Eachel very well," said Mrs. McCracken; "she 
 went to the school with my mother." 
 
 " It's Mary I'm telling you about,'' said old Kelly, clearing 
 his throat, which resulted in a very narrow escape for the pile 
 of carpeting. " When he come to her, says she: ' So I hear 
 you are to be married on Eachel, Andy ? ' and he says, ' Aye,' 
 and says she: ' I am wondering why you never asked myself, 
 Andy,' says she, and says he, 'Sure, I thought you wouldn't 
 
166 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 have me.' 'Did you, indeed ?' said she. 'You might have 
 given me the chance.' Then says he, all in a minute: 'I'll 
 give it you now ; will you have me ? ' and she says : ' That I 
 will with a light heart '; and come that day four weeks they 
 were married. It's truth I'm telling you." 
 
 "And there's Rachel, buried them both, and a lone woman 
 to this day," said Mrs. McCracken, who had heard the moving 
 tale many times before, and did not consider it very appro- 
 priate ; ' ' but that wasn't like a married woman." 
 
 " I could tell you a wheen of stories about that," said old 
 Kelly, shaking his head. " I mind, when I was young 
 myself, I used to go up to Tamlaght every eight days, for 
 a whiles courting with Jennie McBride that's married on big 
 McDei-mott now. And then a neighbour would come in for a 
 crack with her father, and sure enough " 
 
 " And will it be to-morrow you expect Sir Nicholas and the 
 lady ? " broke in Mrs. McCi-acken. She had heard the story of 
 Jennie McBride's sister so many times. 
 
 " Not to Monday it isn't, but Jamie and Mrs. Carroll are 
 nearly out of their mind getting ready this two days. She 
 is looking for a girl to help in the house. I suppose you 
 wouldn't be thinking of putting out your Maggie ? " 
 
 " Not in that house, as long as I have hands to work,'' said 
 Mrs. McCracken, and in some degree she spoke the senti- 
 ments of the village. 
 
 There was a gi-eat commotion in Bally lone, and but one 
 subject of conversation for the time being, whether the people 
 who talked were in Mrs. McCracken 's shop or Miss Clarke's 
 drawing-room. Only before Joanna was there silence, a con- 
 scious silence which was almost worse to her than speech. 
 
 Mrs. Conway and Miss Clarke forgot their last quarrel over 
 Jane Bruce to whisper of this shocking thing, and what they 
 intended to do and to leave undone. 
 
 There was a certain amount of gratification in feeling that 
 they had every intention of ignoring an earl's daughter, and 
 that they, in the consciousness of their virtue, could look 
 down upon her from a height of superiority. 
 
 There was a satisfaction in determining beforehand to i-epel 
 the advances of a Lady Florence and to humble her. Miss 
 Clarke glowed with virtuous horror at the thought of the new- 
 comer; she must preserve her virgin modesty from all soiling 
 contact with this contaminating and unprincipled woman, 
 whose very name was only to be pronounced in a shocked 
 whisper, and who would doubtless be exceedingly anxious to 
 make her way back to respectability under Miss Clarke's 
 wing. 
 
 Mrs. Conway added a special clause, decently veiled, to 
 morning prayers: "May we be delivered from those who are 
 
A 8ELF-BENTING ORDINANCE. 167 
 
 hardened in sin, and will not turn aside from it, O Lord, and 
 if it be possible, may they be brought into the right path." 
 
 In which she considerately recognised the difficulties of the 
 case, and that she was possibly setting the Lord too hard a 
 task. 
 
 She also spoke to Mr. Jellett, representing to him the duties 
 which lay before him with regard to Lady Florence, and fill- 
 ing the meek little man with apprehension at the idea of a 
 remonstrance being called upon from him. 
 
 For everybody at Ballylone, except Joanna, knew that Sir 
 Nicholas and Lady Florence were not married — that Lady 
 Florence had never even been divorced. 
 
 And there was a baby — a baby which Mrs. Conway was not 
 at all sure that Mr. Jellett should not refuse to christen if he 
 was called upon to do so, because it had certainly no right 
 whatever to exist. 
 
 Mrs. Conway expressed her opinion to everybody, beginning 
 with Mr. Jellett and ending with Mrs. Carroll, whom she 
 walked up to see the Sunday before Sir Nicholas' arrival, as a 
 duty of necessity. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll was very busy, Sunday though it was, and not 
 at all in the mood for visitors. 
 
 "I am sorry to see you do not use Sunday as a day of rest, 
 Mrs. Carroll," Mrs. Conway said. 
 
 "This is a bi-ordinary occasion, ma'am. I want the house 
 to look as decent as may be, and the time is short." 
 
 "So you forget your duties to your God in preparing for 
 such as the woman who is coming here ? " said Mrs. Conway 
 sternly. 
 
 " I hope I don't forget my duties to nobody," said Mrs. Car- 
 roll, half offended; but she was a good-natured, cheery young 
 woman, and she said, " Such as she be, she'll want a bed to 
 lie on, ma'am, and I have had to put together some things in 
 a room that has never been used yet, to make a nursery." 
 
 "And you are content to let that child of sin come in to 
 contaminate your children " 
 
 " Bless you, ma'am, the little one is only two months old," 
 said Mrs. Carroll cheerfully, and for the moment Mrs.Conway 
 was silenced. 
 
 The example of a baby two months old certainly could 
 not be very injurious to Mrs. Carroll's sturdy children. 
 
 " If it is not the child, there is the mother," said Mrs. Con- 
 way solemnly. "We pray 'Lead us not into temptation,' 
 Mrs. Carroll." 
 
 " That is all very true, ma'am, but I can hardly make my 
 husband throw up a good place, and I would be sorry not to 
 do my best by Sir Nicholas. He is a civil-spoken, kindly gen- 
 tleman." 
 
168 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Go your own way, then. I can say no more, and I can 
 only hope, as I do, that no harm will come from it," said Mrs, 
 C!on way sourly. ' ' If you care nothing for your children " 
 
 " Bless their hearts, the eldest isn't but coming on ten, and 
 what would she know about it ? " said Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 With which she proceeded to set down some more brass 
 nails in the carpet, and Mrs. Conway departed, that her eyes 
 might not be desecrated by Sunday labour. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll was good-natured and willing enough, and 
 ready to oblige Sir Nicholas as well as unwilling to quarrel 
 with her bread and butter. 
 
 With a girl under her she worked hard in the way of 
 preparation, and took no little trouble about it. 
 
 She had everything as far ready as she could by Monday, 
 with fires in the rooms, freshly draped dressing-tables which 
 had given her some trouble, and flowers, begged from old 
 Kelly, all about the house. 
 
 She had laid out a plentiful tea in the dining-room, with 
 buttered eggs and bacon, for the mysteries of afternoon 
 tea were still a sealed book to her, and had banished the 
 children and donned her Sunday dress by the time she heard 
 the dog-cart wheels in the avenue. 
 
 As far as she was concerned, Sir Nicholas should have a 
 welcome. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX Vm. 
 
 " Meanwhile, I was thinking of my firtt love. 
 As I had not been thinking of aught for years, 
 Till over my eyes there began to move 
 Something that felt like tears. 
 And I swear, aa I thought of her thns, in that honr, 
 And of how, after all, old things were best, 
 That I smelt the smell of that jasmine flower 
 Which she need to wear on her breast." 
 
 " Undoubtedly this is the last place God ever made, and it 
 must have been done late on the sixth day, for He clearly 
 hasn't had time to finish it," said Lady Florence disgustedly. 
 
 She had established hei-self as comfortably as she could in 
 the corner of the railway carriage, but on the Ballylone line 
 even first-class carriages left much to be desired. 
 
 Lady Florence was bored by her journey, and horrified by 
 the increasingly countrified appearance of each station they 
 passed. 
 
 "Nicholas, will you trouble yourself to answer me?" she 
 said; "you must have read those papers down to the last 
 advertisement." 
 
 " I didn't know your last speech required an answer," said 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 169 
 
 Nicholas, with a yawn. " I have no information as to what 
 period of the creation was given to Bally lone." 
 
 Upon which he returned to his paper. The last year had 
 changed him a little ; he had grown slightly stouter, as the 
 result of good living and little exercise-on the Continent, and 
 there were lines about his eyes, which had no business there 
 for many a year ; but he was as careful about his clothes and 
 the curl of his moustache as ever, and he had not foi'gotten 
 his swagger. 
 
 " The only thing to he done will be to fill the house with 
 people, " said Lady Florence. 
 
 " Where's the money to come from ? " said Nicholas. 
 
 "Don't be absurd. Do you imagine that you and I can 
 settle down to pass the rest of our lives tete-a-tete f " 
 
 "Heaven forfend ! But you'll soon find out you can't have 
 people down," said Nicholas, shrugging his shoulders, after a 
 fashion that he had picked up from Lady Florence. 
 
 "As far as I can see, it will be worse than Northumber- 
 land," returned Lady Florence fretfully. "You are the most 
 selfish man I ever met. If you had thought of me a little and 
 not wasted your money on gaming tables and women " 
 
 "Oh, for goodness sake, drop it!" said Sir Nicholas impa- 
 tiently; "you have thrown that in my teeth often enough. 
 And as to extravagance, I wonder which of us has the most to 
 complain of as regards that. Here we are. If you will stay 
 here for a moment I will send Williams to you, and go and 
 look after the nurse and baby myself." 
 
 "Why, Nicholas, your hand is positively shaking !" said 
 Lady Florence, in surprise. 
 
 Nicholas moved hastily away, flushing all over his fair, good- 
 looking face. It was more than a year ago now since he had 
 left that bare little station behind him, with Joanna's hand 
 tightly held in his under their rug, and Joanna's brown eyes, 
 hright with excitement and delight, looking up into his face. 
 
 He thought of it as he looked after the nurse and the lug- 
 gage, and rejoined Lady Florence, who was waiting for him 
 on the station steps in a state of intense dissatisfaction. 
 
 Carroll was there, too, with the dog-cart, and Nicholas said 
 good-evening to him, and went to have a glance at Benedict 
 and to pat his neck before he turned to Lady Florence. 
 
 " Are you ready ?" he said. " What's the matter ? " 
 
 "I should like to know how you expect us all to go in 
 that?" said Lady Florence severely; "for one thing, you 
 know that I hate those high carts, and that man says there 
 is nothing else here." 
 
 " Nor at home, neither,'' said Carroll sullenly. He was not 
 accustomed to be spoken of as "that man," and treated as a 
 nonentity. 
 
no A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 "I wouldn't take the baby up there, sir," put in the nurae. 
 
 But Sir Nicholas' good temper was not as proof against 
 annoyance as usual to-day. 
 
 "You can take your choice between going in the dog-cart 
 and walking," he said, " for there's no third way. If you like, 
 I can take you all, and Carroll will walk ; if you don't like 
 that, say so." 
 
 Which speech had a decided effect, and after a murmur 
 about her luggage from Lady Florence, everybody yielded, 
 and the baby, the nurse, and Williams somehow managed to 
 establish themselves on the back seat. 
 
 Nicholas was very silent as they drove along the old fa- 
 miliar road. He knew every turn of it so well : Bruce had 
 had his gate repainted, the gate on which he and Joanna had 
 swung Polly one summer afternoon, till it suddenly dismayed 
 them by coming oflp its hinges, and Kennedy had filled up the 
 gap in his hedge through which they had escaped from Miss 
 Chester in the first days of their engagement. 
 
 An d then they came to the lodge gates, and there were the 
 little trees, not grown much taller, which was lucky for them, 
 as otherwise their last day would have come before now. 
 There was the avenue, sorely in need of gi-avelling, and there 
 was the square little house at the end. Nicholas remembered 
 with anxiety what a glorified description he had always given 
 of this abode, after his fashion of making rather more than 
 the best of the" things that belonged to him. He had repre- 
 sented it a.s a shooting lodge — a little rough, certainly, but 
 quite possible, and he knew Lady Florence's ideas of shooting 
 lodges well enough, and wondered what she would say — won- 
 dered, characteristically, what Williams would .say, too. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll came to the door to receive them, capless, pink- 
 gowned, but for once without a baby in her arms, in deference 
 to the proprieties. 
 
 She liked Sir Nicholas, who had always been polite and 
 considerate to her, who had not objected to her innumerable 
 children, and had generally had a kind word and a sixpence 
 for them whenever they came across him. 
 
 "You are kindly welcome, sir," she said, "and I have 
 done the best I could to have things right for you." 
 
 "Nick !" said Lady Florence tragically, "don't tell me 
 that you have brought me to live here, and to have that 
 woman to attend on me ? " 
 
 "Mrs. Carroll, can one of the children take the horse? 
 you see, I had not room for your husband," said Nicholas. 
 " Florence, I don't see that you will gain anything by remain- 
 ing up there, unless you prefer to get out in the yard." 
 
 " I should prefer not to get out at all," said Lady Florence. 
 
 "Just as you please," said he calmly. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 171 
 
 Upon which she consented to allow herself to be helped 
 gingerly down, and even to enter the house. 
 
 The hall was about four feet square, with the drawing-room 
 on one side, the dining-room on the other, and the stairs and 
 a short passage leading to the kitchen directly opposite. There 
 was barely room for Lady Florence, the servants, baby, and 
 rug-straps, not to speak of Sir Nicholas. 
 
 " Will you come into the dining-room, ma'am ? " Mrs. Car- 
 roll suggested. " I have a cup of tea ready for you." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Sir Nicholas. "Florence, you will 
 be the better of some tea." 
 
 But Lady Florence was beyond conciliation. 
 
 Nicholas was rather nervous. Never before had the house 
 looked to him so small, so shabby, so beneath the contempt of 
 Lady Florence, emphasised by that of the two English maids. 
 And then the high-tea arrangements in the dining-room — 
 the white cloth, the loaf ready for cutting, the breakfast cups, 
 the buttered eggs. 
 
 Lady Florence took the one step necessary to enter the 
 room, and then sat down abruptly in the first chair; the baby 
 in the hall set up its weak little wail, being both cold and 
 hungry, and Williams and the nurse looked equally ready to 
 melt into tears. 
 
 Sir Nicholas still struggled for peace. 
 
 "Come, Florence," he said, "lean see you are worn out. 
 Shall we ask Mrs. Carroll to make you some tea ? I know of 
 old her tea is always good." 
 
 " I am not prepared to drink a breakfast cup of tea at this 
 hour of the day," said Lady Florence sharply, "and the smell 
 of that bacon makes me ill. Take it away, you woman, what- 
 ever your name is, and bring me something a little less savage 
 to my bedroom." 
 
 " Don't take this away, please, Mrs. Carroll," interposed Sir 
 Nicholas. "I, at least, am very hungry, and I see you liavo 
 remembered my weakness for buttered eggs. Florence, I am 
 sure nurse and Williams are hungry, and doesn't that kid 
 want to be fed?" 
 
 "I am going to my room," said Lady Florence ; "I should 
 like to know when my luggage comes, and we might have 
 dinner about eight, I suppose, if anything can be got to 
 eat." 
 
 "People frequently eat at Ballylone," said Sir Nicholas 
 drily. "Mrs. Carroll, will you show Lady Florence up to 
 her rooms And, Williams," with an abject attempt at concili- 
 ation, " you and nurse had better have something to eat here 
 for to-day." 
 
 "I liope I know my place better than that, sir," said 
 Williams with withering disapproval. " I am sure I am not 
 
172 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 particular, and if some of the maids would show me to the 
 upper servants' dining-hall, for once " 
 
 " Will I take you up-stairs, ma'am? " said Mrs. CaiToll, in a 
 voice which had all at once grown hard and sullen. 
 
 " Are you chambermaid, butler, and footman all in one, my 
 good woman?" said Iiady Florence. 
 
 " Whatever I be, I am not accustomed to being evened to a 
 savage," said Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 Sir Nicholas fled incontinently — fled out of the house, as 
 there was no place of refuge inside it — aud betook himself 
 first to the yard to pay a visit to Benedict and the Witch, and 
 then, in default of anywhere else to go, to the garden, where 
 he smoked a pipe in the dusk, near the beehive which Joanna 
 had given him. 
 
 He hoped it would all come right; that Williams, Mrs. Car- 
 roll, and Lady Florence would somehow settle down peace- 
 fully; but till they did, he preferred to be out of the way. 
 
 A year had made a good deal of difference between Lady 
 Florence and him. The feeling which they had had for each 
 other, and which they had politely called love, had not died 
 all at once — was not even acknowledged to be dead — but had 
 undoubtedly suffered a good deal. When two exceedingly 
 selfish people live entirely together for a year, with no founda- 
 tion of mutual respect or mutual tastes, there are likely to be 
 a good many rubs and disagreements. 
 
 Till Nicholas' winnings began to melt away all went well, 
 but that was not long in happening, and then they mutually 
 grumbled at each other's expenditure, and Lady Florence 
 accused Nicholas of dragging her down to poverty, while he 
 said nothing, but thought a great deal. 
 
 Their society was of the most shady description ; even 
 on the Continent Lady Florence's position was too unmis- 
 takable, and the scandal too recent and well known to be 
 ignored, and if Nicholas went where she could not go, the 
 result was a scene, aud, of all things in the world, he hated 
 scenes. 
 
 Even Mi-s. Eestrell— Mrs. Kestrell, to whom the entiy of 
 most English houses was denied — took to herself the satisfac- 
 tion of cutting Lady Florence, on the Promenade des Anglais 
 at Nice, and afterwards apologising on the ground that her 
 companion at the time was inchned to be pai'ticular. 
 
 Mr. Delacque would not hear of a divorce. 
 
 Once Lady Florence wrote a secret remonstrance to him her- 
 self, but it was of no avail. 
 
 He wrote in return: " You can scarcely expect me to go to 
 trouble and expense for your benefit, and I can't see any 
 advantage a divorce is likely to bring me. I have never been 
 so comfortable and happy as since I have been deprived of you, 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. VIZ 
 
 and I have not the smallest desire to marry again. I assure 
 you, I feel that I owe Sir Nicliolas Osborne gratitude and have 
 no desire for revenge, so I will not make it necessary for him 
 to marry you. As for what you say further, I conclude I am 
 in no way personally responsible, and feel no more under an 
 obligation to trouble myself for tiie child than to trouble 
 myself for the mother." 
 
 " Oruel, coarse brute!" said Lady Florence, but she could 
 do no more. 
 
 Eacing, the tables at Monte Carlo, and credit carried them 
 on somehow or other for a long time, but when the baby was 
 born came a crisis in which the doctor's bill was only paid 
 through the help of those presents which Nicholas had given 
 Joanna. Tiie ring, the bangles, the bi-ooches, all went little by 
 little; it was not a time for sentiment— people must live. 
 
 It was after this that Ballylone began to appear before them 
 as all that was possible, but many a difficulty did they scramble 
 through before they came to this. They had been stayed for 
 want of money in several places, had left bills behind tiiem in 
 many others, and had found themselves once or twice with 
 only a few shillings between them and utter destitution, before 
 any decisive steps were taken. The thought of Ireland was 
 utterly distasteful to both of them ; and, to do him justice, Sir 
 Nicholas would have rather faced any other possibility ; but, 
 when it comes to a matter of existence, most people fail to 
 recognise that it is unnecessary that they should exist. 
 
 And so they came home, and brought the baby, poor little 
 unnecessary morsel of humanity, with them. 
 
 Sir Nicholas, on his seat in the garden, wondered to him- 
 self what would be the end of it all; what possibility of exist- 
 ence Ballylone held for him and for Lady Florence. 
 
 Then he found that he was cold, and that his seat was hard, 
 and strolled back to the house, hoping, with his usual optimism, 
 that everybody would have more or less shaken down by this 
 time. 
 
 But on the stairs was Williams, looking very black indeed. 
 
 " I waited to tell you, sir, that I couldn't possibly make up 
 my mind to staying on here any longer than to-morrow. The 
 living is not what I am accustomed to, nor the loneliness." 
 
 " You have made up your mind very quickly." 
 
 " I couldn't bring myself to say anything else, sir." 
 
 "All right; as you please," said Sir Nicholas, and going on 
 a little further he found Mrs. Carroll also on the watch to speak 
 to him. 
 
 " I would do a great deal to oblige you, Sir Nicholas,'' she 
 
 said, " but I am not accustomed to being treated by a lady as 
 
 the dirt beneath her feet, and I can't be expected to get 
 
 through my work if I am to carry one meal to Lady Florence 
 
 13 
 
174 A BELF-DENTma OBBmANCE. 
 
 in her room, and another to the nursery, and another to the 
 maid, who can't even herself to eat with them as is as good 
 as her any day, and with a dinner to cook in the middle of the 
 night, when I ought to be getting the children to their 
 beds " 
 
 "It will all come right in a day or two, I hope,'' said Sir 
 Nicholas. " I believe Lady Florence's maid is leaving to-mor- 
 row, and I am sure Lady Florence did not intend to offend vou, 
 Mrs. Carroll." 
 
 "Jamie always says lam not easy put out, but I never wore 
 a cap and I'm not going to begin now at her bidding, nor to 
 have her naming me Carroll, like as if I wei-e a man. I 
 would say nothing if she liked to call me Mary Jane. Not 
 but what I would do a good deal for a civil word, and I 
 would be sorry to disoblige you, sir." 
 
 " I am sure you would," said Sir Nicholas. " And to please 
 me I am sure you will be respectful to Lady Florence, and 
 remember that she is English. I am sure she did not intend 
 to offend you." 
 
 With which he made his escape from Mrs. Carroll, who was 
 acknowledged to have a temper, but had never shown it to 
 him before. 
 
 Lady Florence was in her room, a tiny, square room, half 
 filled by the old-fashioned bed, on which she had estab- 
 lisbed herself. 
 
 " I should like to know when my boxes are coming," she 
 said; " not that there will be any room for them in this hole. 
 Did you ever know anything more fiendish than that dressing- 
 table? That servant of yours is the rudest creature I ever met. 
 I told her that hideous erection must go as soon as possible, 
 and made her take away the scrubby little mats on it at once, 
 and she flounced out of the room without a word." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Carroll! She had vexed her conscience by work- 
 ing late on Sunday to have that dressing-table finished, she 
 had bought the muslin and ribbons herself, and the despised 
 little mats had been her own. 
 
 But Sir Nicholas did not know this. He only said sharply: 
 
 " You won't have a servant in the house very soon if you 
 go on like that, Florence." 
 
 " There isn't as much as a dressing-room for you, Nicholas. 
 I should like to know how you intend to manage." 
 
 "Great Scott! I can dress in the lumber-room, for that 
 matter." 
 
 " Nor a long glass, nor a sofa '' 
 
 " My patience will last about one minute and a half longer," 
 said Nicholas mildly. 
 
 ' ' You have ruined my life ! I cannot live here— I cannot— 
 I cannot ! " cried Lady Florence, bursting into tears. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 175 
 
 " I have no more fancy for the place than you have," 
 said Sir Nicholas roughly, " and there is one thing cer- 
 tain, that, if you go on like this, we won't both live here 
 long." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 " A worthleas woman, mere cold clay. 
 As all false things are ; but so fair 
 She takes the breath of men away 
 Who gaze upon her unaware." 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock next day when Lady Florence 
 came downstairs in the daintiest of attire. 
 
 Sir Nicholas was lounging in a very comfortable long chair, 
 smoking, amidst a surrounding of fishing-rods, riding-whips, 
 and pipes, but he rose at once, when she came into the room, 
 and stooped down to kiss her. She was dressed in a light 
 blue, tailor-made skirt and jacket, with a pretty, fresh, spotted 
 blouse, and her fair hair twisted up with a blue ribbon, and 
 he admired her as he generally did. 
 
 "Is our room over the kitchen ?" she said. "I have been 
 chased out of it by the smell of cabbage, or something horri- 
 ble, and upon my word it is just as bad here." 
 
 "It's nothing if you are used to it," said Nicholas, who 
 would have grumbled sorely had the house not been his own. 
 
 " I acknowledge that I am not used to it. Whei-e is the 
 drawing-room ? I liave been looking for it in hopes of getting 
 out of the smell." 
 
 "This is the drawing-room,'' said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 ' ' Oh ! " said Lady Florence, ' ' I see. Exceedingly luxurious ! 
 Nick, are you aware that Williams is going and that the nurse 
 is going ? " 
 
 " I wasn't, but it is just as well, except that, when I pay them 
 their wages, we shall have something like two shillings left to 
 start life here with." 
 
 "You may laugh, but will you tell me what is to happen 
 to me and to the baby ? If Williams goes, I go too ! I won't 
 stay another hour in the house." 
 
 "Nonsense, my good girl; give me a kiss and don't be 
 absurd. I can understand that the baby has good reason for 
 apprehension, but you are surely capable of dressing your- 
 self?" 
 
 " I have never been without a maid in vnj life.'' 
 
 " You won't begin younger. Don't make a fuss, like a dar- 
 ling. Let's have peace at any price." 
 
 "You are just a mass of selfishness," said Lady Florence; 
 
176 A BELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 but she let him kiss her, and condescended to be made comfort- 
 able in his chair. 
 
 Any improvements that Nicholas had made m the study- 
 had been with a view to comfort and not to appearance; the 
 Lodge had been too utterly hopeless in his eyes to be worth 
 troubling about. 
 
 There was the one comfortable chair in which he had sat and 
 smoked, many a day before he knew Joanna; in which he had 
 sat and thought about Lady Florence herself many a time and 
 oft ; and there was a thick, soft rug covering the shabby car- 
 pet in front of the fireplace. That was about all. The carpet 
 was worn to holes in several places, and there was a black 
 mark against the wall where old Kelly's gardening belongings 
 had been only the day before. There were pipe-racks, fishing- 
 rod stands, and some old guns, a couple of racing pictures on 
 the walls, and a few photographs of girls and women whom 
 Nicholas had admired, which he had left behind him when he 
 and Joanna had gone to Merevale. 
 
 Lady Florence settled herself in the chair, put her feet on 
 the fender and said the fire was good, glanced at a shelf of 
 dilapidated yellow-backs, and then at the photographs, and 
 finally looked out of the window, and shuddered as she saw 
 the uncared-for avenue, and the little trees swaying about in 
 the wind. It was a cold, gray day, and the lodge looked at its 
 worst. 
 
 Then came a knock at the door and Mrs. Carroll made her 
 appearance with the baby ; the baby in its spotless little white 
 dress, quiet and contented enough, perhaps feeling something 
 of the motherly touch of her arms. Mrs. Carroll could not for- 
 get that the seven little Carrolls, who had come to her almost 
 yearly, and once as a double blessing, had all been as helpless 
 as this, and that this little thing, for all its fine clothes, 
 needed far more pity. Many a slap and rough word did the 
 Carroll children get when something had happened to make 
 their mother's temper a trifle short, but all the same she thought 
 them the finest children in the world, and they knew it. 
 
 She beheved herself to have excellent reason to be offended 
 with the mother of this poor little nameless creature, but she 
 held it very tenderly and protectingly all the same. 
 
 But she was not a model of tidiness ; her print dress was by 
 no means in its first freshness, her hair was tousled, and there 
 was a smut on her face. 
 
 This was what Lady Florence noticed. 
 
 " How dare you come in here like that ? " she said. " Did 
 I not tell you never to appear before me again without a cap 
 and a black dress. And, may I ask, what are you doing with 
 the baby ? You are not the proper person, and nurse knows 
 that I don't want her at this hour." 
 
, A SBLF-MNTING OBBINANOE. 1T7 
 
 Mrs. Carroll's comely face grew red. "As for caps and 
 black dresses," she said, " they don't grow on hedges at Bally- 
 lone; and perhaps you would be no better yourself if you had 
 had all the redding up I have been doing this morning to try 
 and please you, ma'am. And for the baby, there's the nurse 
 and the other woman all ready to go, and wanting to know if 
 they could see Sir Nicholas." 
 
 " Will you see them, or shall I ? " said he unwillingly. 
 
 " Oh, I am not going to trouble myself any further ; if they 
 will go, they must. But, Nicholas, don't be such a fool as to 
 pay them ; if they go off like this there is no reason that you 
 should." 
 
 "And who will take the baby ? " said Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 " Can't you keep it yourself ? No, I suppose you had better 
 give it to me. Have you got its bottle ? " 
 
 " I can't keep the child now, ma'am, if I am to have any- 
 thing ready for the dinner. And there's Susan gone on a 
 message to the town, and the biggest of the childer at 
 school." 
 
 "Well, give her to me," said Lady Florence resignedly. 
 " This dress crumples and will be ruined, but I can't help it." 
 
 Upon which, being free from the child, Mrs. Carroll found 
 herself able to make an offended retreat, and to shut the door 
 after her with the suggestion of a slam. 
 
 She had been accustomed to have a good deal of her own 
 way ever since her husband had taken the position of care- 
 taker at the Lodge. They had been, as it were, master and 
 mistress of the place, and found themselves in very flourish- 
 ing circumstances. They both came of a well-to-do stock, 
 with respectable small farmers for their relations and on 
 equality with people, who were, as Mrs. Carroll said herself, 
 "If not the quality, at least the very height of the common- 
 ality." 
 
 Her husband's uncle kept a servant himself, had seven cows 
 and a bull, also a parlour, decorated with anti-macassars, 
 where nobody ever sat, and where the windows were not 
 opened from one year's end to the other. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll felt she was, to a certain extent, lowering her- 
 self in condescending to cook for strangers, but Jamie was 
 inclined to be a little " near, "and after all she looked upon 
 them rather as lodgers in her house. 
 
 It was natural enough that Lady Florence should not recog- 
 nise any difference of rank between Mrs. Carroll and Susan 
 McNat, the girl whom she had in to help, whose people 
 lived in the poorest part of Ballylone and had never been 
 more than day-labourers at the best. But to Mrs. Carroll the 
 distance seemed as great as that which existed between her 
 and Lady Florence. 
 
178 A 8ELF-DENTIN0 ORDINANCE. 
 
 While she was civilly treated, she "knew her place," hut 
 when she lost her temper she said whatever came uppermost. 
 
 Miss Clarke and Mrs. Ckjnway were always civil to her, and, 
 on her side, Mrs. Carroll did not recognise much difference 
 between Lady Florence and Mrs. Conway. 
 
 She walked away to the kitchen with her head high, and 
 the three little CarroUs who were too young to go to school 
 had a bad time of it for the rest of the morning. 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Florence lay in front of the fire with the 
 baby on her knee, utterly oblivious of the possibility of feel- 
 ings from Mrs. Carroll, and not even condescending to think 
 twice of her impertinence. To Lady Florence servants were 
 beings of another sphere, with whom all the intercourse 
 necessary was an expression of your wants, which were sub- 
 sequently fulfilled as a matter of course but never as a matter 
 for gratitude. 
 
 The baby lay on her knee, sucking at its bottle contentedly 
 enough, and seemed to have learned already that it must be 
 thankful to have its existence even tolerated. 
 
 They made a pretty picture, though they hardly looked like 
 a mother and her child. Lady Florence knew nothing about 
 babies, and considered this one an exceedingly tiresome and 
 inconvenient incident. It had caused her nothing but incon- 
 venience and pain physically, and mentally it was a worry. 
 The child would never be wanted, would always be a trouble 
 and annoyance to everybody ; and it was all James Delacque's 
 fault ; he was alone to blame for ruining its life before it was 
 born. So Lady Florence said, and so she really thought. 
 
 It was there always, to mark a period of her me which some 
 day she might want people to forget. 
 
 And it was not even pretty. I^dy Florence looked down at 
 the little thing, with its big blue eyes, which the nurse said 
 were like Sir Nicholas', its little soft nose, and mottled cheeks, 
 with a sense of irritation. 
 
 She was not taking the smallest control of the bottle, and 
 was exceedingly annoyed when the child took upon itself to 
 choke, in the haste with which it drank, and scattered milk all 
 over her dress. She absolutely shook the baby in her disgust, 
 and then became rather alarmed, and, as the sole idea that 
 came to her, proceeded to pat it on the back. 
 
 She did not venture to get up, which she thought might 
 possibly result in letting the child drop, but she rubbed away 
 at the milk stains with her handkerchief, and realised with dis- 
 may that she had no maid now to whom she could hand over 
 the dress with a request to have it made all right again 
 
 She was rubbing away hopelessly with one hand while she 
 held the baby with the other, when Sir Nicholas came in. 
 
 " Nick, I wish you would take this little wretch," she said 
 
A SELF-DENTINQ OTtDINANOB. 179 
 
 " I am in an awful mess. I suppose Williams and nurse are 
 gone, and I'll wager you were fool enough to give them what 
 they asked." 
 
 "I didn't like to be shabby," said Sir Nicholas deprecat- 
 ingly. " After all, what's the good of making a fuss about a 
 pound or two." 
 
 Sir Nicholas was never ungenerous, and would have made 
 a charming millionaire. 
 
 " You are vei-y silly," said Lady Florence, but she, too, did 
 not recognise a pound or two as of much consequence. 
 
 The baby, finding its resting-place uncomfortable, with the 
 tightness of its mother's dress and the scantiness of her petti- 
 coats, set up a complaining whine. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 "The child's sob in the silence curses deeper 
 Thau the stioiig man iu hi» wrath." 
 
 Joanna was leaning over the Cliff House avenue gate. 
 
 She had gone out, hatless and gloveless, as she liked to go, 
 to have a general inspection of the crops, and had wandered 
 down the avenue to see the people pass who were going to the 
 monthly fair at Ballylone. 
 
 There was a certain stir about the constant succession of 
 cattle and their drivers which she liked, and she knew a great 
 many of the people and could exchange a passing good-morn- 
 ing with them. 
 
 The wind blew about her fluflFy hair, and the watery 
 glimpses of April sun made it shine. She had nothing better 
 to do that afternoon than to stand there by the gate, for out- 
 side, for the last two days, she had not ventured. 
 
 That last week, with its constant, restless excitement, which 
 would not be conquered, had been very miserable, and 
 she had begun almost to long for the monotony she had 
 hated. 
 
 It seemed so strange to think that Nicholas was coming back 
 to this place, where he had asked her to marry him, with 
 another woman ; so strange that she would have been less sur- 
 prised had slie awakened to find all this long, bitter year a 
 dream. 
 
 And Joanna in her pride, the pride that was for everybody 
 but Nicholas, would not show one sign of difference or excite- 
 ment, while she knew that everybody was watching her. 
 
 She worked away at her carving, and nobody but herself 
 recognised the difference in the result. She was annoyed to 
 
180 A 8ELF-BENTINa ORDmANCE. 
 
 find that things would not go quite right with her, try as she 
 would. 
 
 But she could not trust herself to meet Nicholas— could not 
 feel how she would be able to bear the bitter pain of being 
 treated by him as a stranger, of finding that he had forgotten. 
 And if he had not— that would be worse still. As a rule she 
 had plenty of faith in herself, but at present she recognised 
 with anger that, under given circumstances, she absolutely 
 could not depend upon herself. 
 
 Yet, if Nicholas and Lady Florence were coming to live at 
 Ballylone, Joanna could not remain indoors for the rest of her 
 life ; and even if she could bring herself to try and persuade her 
 father to let her go away, she could not remain away forever. 
 
 She had learnt to drive her trouble to the background of 
 her mind, to put away the thoughts that flashed into her head, 
 and to be generally fairly successful, by dint of being con- 
 stantly busy, as long as daylight lasted. But now she could 
 not do this any longer. 
 
 Joanna did not feel as if she could have another moment's 
 peace and comfort, with this constant, daily possibility hang- 
 ing over her. 
 
 She could never get up without feeling that that day she 
 might see him; never go out without knowing she might meet 
 him before she returned. 
 
 Was he happy? she woudered; feeling that, if he was, it 
 would be easier for her. And was he married to Lady Flor- 
 ence ? Joanna had never asked, but during the whole year 
 she had searched the papers for divorce cases, and Delacque 
 V. Delacque and Osborne had not been there. 
 
 If he was happy and if he had married her, then, and then 
 only to a certain extent, would Joanna feel herself free from 
 the promises she had made him, and from the responsibility 
 which she had taken upon herself when she had promised to 
 be his wife. 
 
 She would be true to him, true all her life ; he must know 
 he might always depend upon her if the time should come 
 when she could help him, or even her, for his sake, but per- 
 haps—probably — the time would never come, or perhaps he 
 would not believe he could trust to her to feel nothing toward 
 him but the most complete faithfulness. 
 
 She had told him one day that she was "his, to take or leave. " 
 
 Joanna had been carving hard since eight o'clock, and her 
 hand was tired. She leaned over the gate, dreamily watching 
 the passers-by, and picturing to herself a time, long, long 
 years hence, when she, perhaps grown rich by her carving, 
 could come to help his children or even his wife. And they 
 would meet, calmly as friends, while neither of them forgot, 
 and he would come to her, depending unhesitatingly upon her. 
 
A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 181 
 
 Even Polly was an interruption— Polly, who, free from her 
 lessons as twelve o'clock struck, came dancing down the 
 avenue, a bright, active little figure, and clambered to the top 
 of the gate with restless legs. 
 
 " Will you finish the screen this afternoon. Aunt Joanna ? " 
 she said. "It is to-morrow we should take it — it will be my 
 birthday." 
 
 "Oh, then it must be finished," said Joanna. " Run and 
 order some paste, dear." 
 
 " Paste doesn't take a minute," exclaimed Polly, without 
 moving. 
 
 "And oh, Polly, what a disgraceful hole in your stockingl 
 How in the world did you make it ? " 
 
 "It only shows because my dress is tucked up," said the 
 little girl complacently. "Can't we go out, Aunt Joanna? 
 The cows have done coming, and it is dull." 
 
 "I can't go this morning, but there is nothing to prevent 
 you, if you don't go into the fair." 
 
 But Polly had no desire to go alone. 
 
 Slie sat on the gate, contentedly talking to Joanna, telling 
 her one of her long rambling stories of what was to happen 
 when she was rich, while Joanna was able to give herself up 
 to thinking again. 
 
 Slie was aroused this time by discovering that Polly had 
 wriggled off the gate and was pulling at her dress. 
 
 "Come into the road," she said. " I see Susan McNat com- 
 ing with the doctor's last baby. *Do let us speak to it." 
 
 Polly had a passion for babies of all sizes and ages. She 
 would sit for hours on the kitchen floor at McCracken's with 
 the baby on her small knees, and had once publicly implored 
 her mother, to that lady's great embarrassment, to give her 
 a little baby brother. 
 
 "Do let us stop Susan, Aunt Joanna," she said. " It is such 
 a sweet little baby, and she will let me feel its tooth." 
 
 " I thought Susan had left the Morelands," said Joanna. 
 
 Personally she did not share Polly's admiration for little 
 babies ; she liked them when they could speak and run about, 
 but there was no reason in the world why she should not 
 speak to Susan McNat, who was in her mother's Sunday-school 
 class, and she generally did what Polly wanted. 
 
 She had never seen the doctor's baby so spruce before, with 
 its little white lace mantle and bonnet, and even a tiny white 
 sunshade to keep off the extremely watery sun. 
 
 "Oh, the sweet little dear!" said Polly. "Oh, please let 
 me hold it for one minute, Susan ! Or, if I mustn't, let me feel 
 its tooth." 
 
 " You can't do that, Miss Polly ; it hasn't got no tooth," said 
 Su.san. 
 
182 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANCE. 
 
 "Oh, you didn't pull it out!" said Polly, distressed. "I 
 could feel it quite well." 
 
 " But this isn't the doctor's baby, Miss Polly," said Susan, 
 growing a little red. 
 
 ' ' Another dear little baby — oh. Aunt Joanna, it is a different 
 little baby." 
 
 " Whose chUd is it ? " said Joanna, absolutely unsuspicious, 
 in a way that seemed to her afterwards very odd. 
 
 "It is Sir Nicholas Osborne's, Miss Joanna. I have just 
 brought it out from the Lodge," said Susan. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Osborne's ba'by ! A sudden stab of pain almost 
 made Joanna cry out, and then came that old heartache at its 
 worst, and a sudden dizzy feeling. 
 
 But outwardly there was no change, and it was really only 
 a minute that had passed before she turned to Susan and said: 
 " It is a pretty little thing, but you had better move on, it is 
 cold standing," and Polly raised no protest. 
 
 She knew there was some reason that Sir Nicholas must 
 never be spoken about again to Joanna — Sir Nicholas whom 
 Polly had been so fond of; and after avague, childish fashion 
 she had ideas of her own on the subject. 
 
 As for Joanna, she walked blindly up the avenue with the 
 child at her heels, and a pain as fresh as in the first moment 
 when she had realised her trouble. 
 
 Had she hoped tUl no w ? Not consciously for a moment, but 
 otherwise, why should everything all at once seem harder to 
 bear? 
 
 A child — a link which bound him always, always to Lady 
 Florence; achildwhichshehadseen, which she had touched— 
 a child which might have been hers. 
 
 Nicholas' child, but Lady Florence's child too. 
 
 If it had come to Joanna — if it had been hers, theirs — ^liow 
 she would have loved it and cared for it, for its own sake and 
 for its father's; and how it would have been something to link 
 them together all their lives long. 
 
 Joanna felt vaguely that this was a closer bond between him 
 and Lady Florence than any mamage vow. 
 
 And she had nothing to do with his child. They three were 
 bound together, and she would always be alone and always 
 outside. 
 
 Joanna had few illusions about Nicholas now. She knew 
 he was neither a good man nor a trustworthy man ; she knew 
 that herfaith in him was gone forever ; but she knew, too, that 
 no man, respect and admire him as she might, would ever be 
 the same to her as this first unworthy lover of hers. She 
 could never give her love to another man as she had given it 
 to him; keeping back nothing, fearing nothing, believing him 
 as true as God in heaven. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 " I would that you were all to me, 
 You that are juet so much, no more, 
 Nor yOure, nor mine — nor slave, nor free ! 
 Where does the fault lie ? Where the core of the 
 wound since wound must be." 
 
 Every succeeding day at the Lodge seemed to Lady Florence 
 worse than the day before. 
 
 She had always thought she liked the country, but her idea 
 of the country was a big house filled with people and daily 
 entertainments, and above all, with plenty of men at her 
 feet. 
 
 Even in her schoolroom days, as an exceptionally pretty 
 girl, she had managed to amuse herself. She and Lady Hilda 
 had always been allowed to attend the meets, under the care 
 of their father and a couple of grooms ; and while Lady Hilda 
 had thought of nothing but the run, Lady Florence had con- 
 trived to pass the day in her own fashion. If she had ever 
 cared for anyone in her life it had been for a certain penniless 
 youth who had contrived to see a good deal of her in those 
 days, and who had gone off to India with a lock of her hair, 
 and a promise of correspondence, which she had kept for a 
 whole twelve months. 
 
 Ten years later she had met him at a big West End crush, 
 and was pleased to find that while the years had only improved 
 her, he had grown stout and slightly bald. He took her for 
 an ice and introduced her to his wife, an insipid little creature 
 very shabbily dressed, and knowing nobody. Neither of them 
 was particularly affected by the meeting. Lady Florence 
 wondered what he had done with the lock of her hair, and if 
 he remembered how he had kissed her good-bye under the 
 chestnuts one wet evening when they had lost the groom and 
 ridden home from hunting together. But there had never 
 been any real hope about the business, and she was very far 
 from en vying his wife, who had half a dozen children and 
 shabby clothes. 
 
 They only met once, for their circles in London lay apart. 
 
 Lady Florence was the fashion ; she was an established 
 London beauty and much sought after. She had been pleased 
 to know Sir Nicholas because he meant the box-seat on the 
 Guards' coach, and because he was a creditable person to take 
 about, but she had not thought much more of him than of the 
 rest till he had made an effort to shake himself free of her 
 thraldom. 
 
 This had annoyed her, and that a country girl who was not 
 even pretty should be her successor annoyed her still more. 
 
184 A SELF-DENYING OHDINANCE. 
 
 Lady Florence was selfish ; completely and unconsciously 
 selfish. 
 
 It never even occurred to her to consider other people's feel- 
 ings, or to try to see anything from their point of view. 
 
 When Mr. Delacque declared his intention of spending the 
 season in Northumberland, she was ready enough to see a 
 wrong and an injury to her, which more than justified any 
 action on her part. 
 
 When Sir Nicholas' money came to an end, she discovered 
 that he too had injured her, and in Ballylone there was 
 reproach in every look she gave him and every word she said 
 to him. 
 
 It was undoubtedly terribly dull and uncomfortable. 
 
 Lady Florence did not know how to unpack her clothes, and 
 wl)en they were unpacked there was nowhere to put them. 
 The Lodge was a damp house, a dampness which had been 
 attributed to the trees, but which liad remained behind when 
 they were cut down. There were damp patches on the walls 
 downstairs which were far from cheerful, and the wall presses, 
 in which the house abounded and which would otherwise have 
 been useful, were wet and mildewed. So there was only a 
 wardrobe and a chest of drawers in which to dispose of the 
 contents of half a dozen trunks. 
 
 Lady Florence did not know how to do her hair, and it tired 
 her, and she had not the remotest idea how to dress and 
 undress the baby, and nearly drowned it the one and only 
 time she attempted to give it its bath. 
 
 Susan McNat undertook it after tliis, and she knew some- 
 thing about babies, though she considered such frequent baths 
 unnecessary. 
 
 As for Mrs. Carroll, she and Lady Florence were in a con- 
 stant state of feud, and Mrs. Carroll declared half a dozen 
 times a day that but for her husband and children she would 
 not have been another hour in the house. 
 
 If she had been a Roman Catholic she would have crossed 
 herself whenever she met Lady Florence; as it was, she only 
 looked at her with horror-struck eyes and exclamations under 
 her breath of "The Lord save us !" "Did ever anyone see 
 the like ? " " By aU that's holy ! " 
 
 Mrs. Carroll had never before met a lady who smoked and 
 preferred whiskey and soda to tea, and when Lady Florence 
 turned her long-handled eyeglass upon the Carroll children, 
 their mother snatched them away as from some evil thing. 
 
 The very first evening a couple of rings from Lady Flor- 
 ence's room brought up Mrs. Carroll, very hot and flustered 
 over dinner preparations. 
 
 Lady Florence was lounging over the fire with a novel and 
 a cigarette. 
 
A 8ELF-DENYING OEDINANOE. 185 
 
 "You rung, ma'am ? " said Mrs. Carroll shortly. 
 
 " Put on some more coal, please," said Lady Florence, with- 
 out looking up. 
 
 " And the scuttle standing there to her hand 1 " said Mrs. 
 Carroll, in high indignation, when she afterwards related the 
 tale, " and me called up from the bottom of the house, in the 
 middle of seeing to the dinner ! " 
 
 As Mrs. Carroll said. Lady Florence, in herself, would have 
 been work for a regiment of servants. 
 
 The stormy atmosphere drove Nicholas up to Derry, where 
 he stayed for the night, and enjoyed himself, while in his 
 absence Lady Florence found the Lodge worse than ever. 
 
 She went down to the village once, creating an immense 
 sensation there. She wore high boots and a very short shoot- 
 ing dress, and she strolled along with her hands in the pockets 
 of ner covert coat, and a cigarette in her mouth, rather enter- 
 tained by the fashion in which the natives rushed to their 
 doors to stare at her. 
 
 But it was an entertainment which did not bear to be repeated. 
 
 What was she to do ? Was she to get up every morning for 
 the rest of her life, with a long, long day before her, exactly 
 the same as the one before ? Even lying in bed and reading 
 novels till lunch time palled upon her, and there did not seem 
 to be any object in getting up then or ever. Nicholas was 
 thinking of selling the Witch, and was teaching Benedict to 
 jump. He smoked a great deal, and had taken to sleeping 
 after dinner. 
 
 This she bore for almost a week, and then she could bear it 
 no longer. She came upon him one evening as he dozed over 
 the fire and shook him by the shoulder till he woke and looked 
 up at her with sleepy blue eyes. 
 
 "Nick," she said, "you will get detestable if you go on like 
 this." 
 
 "It doesn't matter much, does it ? " he said crossly. He did 
 not like being suddenly awakened. 
 
 " You have brought me to this, Nick, and you must tell me 
 if you expect me to spend the rest of my life here." 
 
 "Oh, hang it all, Florence, how can I tell ? It will all dry 
 straight somehow, I suppose." 
 
 " And in the meantime I shall go mad or kill myself. If I 
 was your wife, Nick, you would have more consideration for 
 me," Lady Florence ended reproachfully, using an argument 
 she had always found very effective. 
 
 "Look here, Florence, what am I to do ? I can't coin 
 money, and I can't make old Delacque consent to a divorce." 
 
 "You can't coin money, but, I suppose, you could make it 
 like any other man, if you chose," said Lady Florence. 
 " There's Meredyth, for instance " 
 
186 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "And if I went to Meredyth for help, don't you know as 
 well as I do what his first condition would be ? " 
 
 " If you had any pluck you would find some way of making 
 something to take us away from here ! " 
 
 "Well, what do you say to my running over to Ascot or the 
 Derby, this spring ?" said Nicholas, with hesitation. 
 
 At which Lady Florence gave a little cry and seized him by 
 the arm. 
 
 "I know what that means ! " she said. "You want to get 
 away and amuse yourself and leave me behind. You shall 
 not go from this place without me — I will not stand it ! " 
 
 " Oh, all right," returned Nicholas. He never tried to gain 
 the day by force. If he made up his mind to go, he would go 
 without a word or a dispute. Lady Florence knew it. 
 
 " There is no good in making you promise," she said, with 
 a shrug of her shoulders,, "because I haven't the smallest 
 faith in your promises. But I am not easily made a fool of, 
 Nick. One thing I tell you plainly : I cannot live in this place 
 without a soul to speak to." 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 " I would not for her, white and pink. 
 Though such lie likes — her grace of limh ; 
 Though such he has praised — nor yet I think 
 For life itself, though spent with him. 
 Commit such sacrilege, affront 
 God's nature, which is love, intrude 
 T'wixt two amanced souls." 
 
 "Nick, I am going to church ; will you come ? " 
 
 Nicholas, who had just come in from the stables, in knicker- 
 bockers and a shooting coat, gave a very decided negative. 
 Like most riding men, his legs were not at their best in knicker- 
 bockers, a fact of which he was far from being aware. 
 
 "Being in the country, it is our duty to show a good 
 example," said Lady Florence, " and as they have service here 
 at the outlandish hour of twelve, it doesn't require too great 
 an effort. Nick, you had better change your mind." 
 
 She had taken some trouble to dress herself for the amaze- 
 ment of the Ballylone natives, which shovv'ed how very low 
 she had fallen for lack of entertainment. She had put on a 
 pretty dress of gray and pink, marvellously and wonderfully 
 intermingled, with a big gray hat and a gray feather boa. 
 She had a gray and pink sunshade, and the silk of her petti- 
 coats rustled as she moved. 
 
 " I know I might go much more appropriately in a sack and 
 
A 8J£LF-BENTINa OBBINANGE. 187 
 
 boot-laces," she said, "but I had a fancy it would be kind to 
 show these people what a really well-dressed woman was like, 
 for once. But admire me, dear, before I go, because I know I 
 shan't be half appreciated." 
 
 Nicholas did admire her very much and he said so. He 
 walked down the avenue with her, and she took his arm and 
 leaned upon it, keeping very close to him, and at the gate he 
 drew her back to kiss her with a sudden ardour which she 
 laughed at, but which flattered her. 
 
 Lady Florence was very well pleased with herself. She 
 knew she was looking her very best, and concluded if there 
 were any natives in this country worthy of speech she would 
 see them now, and, most of all, she wished to confront Joanna, 
 and prove to her in one moment how impossible it had been 
 for her to dream of competition. 
 
 She wished Sir Nicholas to see them together, to compare 
 them, to recognise her immeasurable superiority; but to see 
 them together was the one thing which Nicholas had made 
 up his mind to avoid. 
 
 The church bell had just stopped as Lady Florence made 
 her way up to the door, and there was a rush of people who, 
 after the wont of country churchgoers, had stayed outside till 
 the last minute. 
 
 Lady Florence waited till they had all passed in, and then 
 made her own entrance very sedately. 
 
 The opening sentences and Exhortation were just over, and 
 there was a general bustle of preparation for the Confession ; 
 but Lady Florence's entrance caused a pause. She walked up 
 the aisle slowly, with that rustle of silk to which the inhabi- 
 tants of Ballylone were not accustomed, and though the eyes 
 of the whole congregation were turned upon her she was not 
 in the least embarrassed. 
 
 She made a leisurely inspection of seats, and finally turned 
 into the first cushioned one she came to. It had been the 
 Clarkes'from time immemorial, and Miss Clarke was alone iu 
 it now, and had just sunk on her knees. 
 
 The pause, in which even Mr. Jellett had shared, had come 
 to an end and he began the General Confession. 
 
 " We have followed too much the devices and desires of our 
 own hearts," said Mr. Jellett, and the whole congregation 
 looked at Lady Florence. 
 
 " We have left undone those things which we ought to 
 have done, and we have done those things which we ought 
 not to have done." 
 
 Miss Clarke rose from her knees, gathered together her 
 prayer-book, hymn-book, and umbrella, and passed out of 
 the seat, holding her dress closely round her that it might 
 not come in contact with Lady Florence, and the congre- 
 
188 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 gation again looked at her to see how she bore this severe 
 reproof. 
 
 But Lady Florence did not so much as trouble herself to 
 think why an ill-dressed old woman should change her pew. 
 She established herself in a corner, and surveyed her fellow- 
 worshippers through her long-handled eyeglass with much 
 sansfagon, and when she had finished looking at those who 
 were in front of her, she turned calmly round to study the 
 rest. 
 
 She soon discovered Joanna, two pews in front of her, 
 dressed in a dark blue serge, which fitted her better than her 
 dresses had been used to fit, but which was still far removed 
 from any rivalry with Lady Florence's. 
 
 She was conscious of Lady Florence's entrance, thougli she 
 had not looked round— she was too much afraid that there 
 might be someone else. But of the service she did not hear 
 a word. 
 
 A good many other people had their attention distracted. 
 The elders whispered and shook their heads, the girls gazed at 
 Lady Florence with a sort of guilty curiosity. 
 
 The Col lards, who only occasionally came to Ballylone 
 church, looked at her as if they half expected horns and a tail 
 to sprout forth, and still could not help being struck witli a 
 something about herself and her dresses which they could 
 never hope to attain. 
 
 Mr. Jellett thought he had never seen anyone so lovely in 
 his life, and lost his place in the Commandments. 
 
 Lady Florence was conscious that everybody was looking at 
 her, and she liked it. She was completely at her ease, aud 
 absolutely incapable of being disturbed by these rustics ; it 
 was natural that they should admire her, poor creatures. 
 
 And all through the service, all through the prayers and 
 hymns and sermon, Joanna was preparing herself for the 
 meeting that might follow ; was steeling herself to be brave, 
 and making up her mind what to do and say. 
 
 It was almost a disappointment when she found there was 
 no reason for special courage — that only Lady Florence 
 walked out of church in front of them. 
 
 Outside the church door she paused and waited for Joanna. 
 In her utter destitution of amusement it was something to see 
 a person she had known in happier days, though in those 
 days they had seldom exchanged a word ; the possibiUty 
 of a country solicitor's family feeling anything but honoured 
 by her notice had scarcely entered her head. 
 
 She held out her hand to Joanna with her sweetest smile. 
 
 "I hope you have not forgotten me. Miss Conway," she 
 said. 
 
 Joanna hesitated, flushing deeply. She had not forgiven 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 189 
 
 Lady Florence, thougli she had said in church half an hour 
 ago: " Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that tres- 
 pass against us." 
 
 Lady Florence did not look at all to be pitied ; she was smart 
 and smiling and self-possessed, and not at all bowed down by 
 her sin. 
 
 But she was perhaps Nicholas' wife ; she was certainly the 
 motlier of his child, and it was not for Joanna to make the 
 position to which he had brought himself harder. 
 
 She held out her hand to Lady Florence, for Nicholas' sake, 
 but she said nothing. 
 
 "I am so glad to see you again," said Lady Florence, 
 " Will you let bygones be bygones and come to see me ? I 
 know you are a great friend of my sister's." 
 
 But even as she spoke came Mrs. Conway out of the church, 
 with eyes large with horj'or and dismay, and she seized Joanna 
 by the arm : "Come away at once," she said, in her most 
 imperative tones, tones which once had carried terror to 
 Joanna's heart. "How dare that woman so much as touch 
 you ? Am I to stand by and see my daughter contami- 
 nated ? " 
 
 Joanna turned on her mother with a look which Mrs. Con- 
 way had never seen before. It seemed to her that this woman, 
 whom Nicholas had chosen, was standing there in a strange 
 place, witli everybody against her because she had counted the 
 world well lost for love. 
 
 With a sudden impulse of pity, she held out her hand to 
 Lady Florence again. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said, " I — I hope you don't find the Lodge 
 very damp." 
 
 The words were ludicrously insuflRcient, but they meant so 
 much which could not be said. 
 
 But Lady Florence was exceedingly capable of defending 
 herself. 
 
 She raised her eyeglass and turned it on Mrs. Conway, sur- 
 veying her with a calm curiosity, a well-bred insolence, 
 which that lady could not attempt to rival. 
 
 She said nothing, only surveyed her assailant from the top 
 of her old-fashioned bonnet to the soles of her boots with a 
 sweeping glance of amused disdain, and then, with a nod of 
 farewell to Joanna, she turned away and sauntered down the 
 church path in front of them. 
 
 She was in front of them as far as Cliff House gate, and 
 she enjoyed it ; she knew she walked well, and she walked 
 slowly, knowing they would not pass her, till Mrs. Conway 
 and Joanna wished they had disregarded the mud of the lane 
 and gone by the short cut. 
 
 Lady Florence was highly delighted with herself when she 
 13 
 
190 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 got home, and said so to Nicholas, who had slept and smoked 
 and read all morning and been bored to distraction. 
 
 " You ought to have come with me," she said, making for 
 herself a place beside him in his long chair. " It was most 
 amusing, and I never saw people stare more." 
 
 "I daresay," said Nicholas gruffly. "Aren't you going to 
 take off your hat before lunch ? " 
 
 He wished, and yet he did not wish, to hear something more 
 of that morning. 
 
 "It is not necessary to make many preparations to eat the 
 fag-end of a chicken and a scraggy leg of mutton," said Lady 
 Florence, "and as it is, Carroll has made enough fuss because 
 we won't dine in the middle of the day on Sundays. I don't 
 see any rea-son for being more uncomfortable that day than 
 any other, do you ? But to return, I got a seat to myself 
 about two behind Miss Conway and her belongings." 
 
 Nicholas said nothing ; he turned his head a little away, 
 and began to fill his pipe. 
 
 " Positively, I believe you blush, Nick! " said Lady Florence 
 cheerfully. " Well, you might be thankful to escape such a 
 mother-in-law — a regular old termagant, with dresses made in 
 the year One. No doubt Miss Conway inherits her temper." 
 
 " Drop it, Florence. Don't speak of her," said Nicholas 
 shortly. 
 
 "I should like to know why not?" said Lady Florence. 
 " If I am not to speak of her I have spoken to her." 
 
 " You spoke to her — to Joanna ? " 
 
 " I did, simple as I sit here," said Lady Florence, " which 
 suggests to me that you might move over and give me a little 
 more room." 
 
 Nicholas got up altogether, and moved to the fireplace, 
 looking about for the match-box, but when he had found it he 
 did not immediately proceed to make any use of it. 
 
 " What did she say ?" he asked, after a minute. 
 
 "What did she say? Nothing very remarkable, I fancy. 
 In fact all that I can remember is that she said she hoped we 
 did not find the house damp." 
 
 "Rubbish," said Nicholas. 
 
 "It is perfectly true, I assure you." 
 
 " Was she— changed? " said Nicholas, with much hesitation. 
 
 V She didn't look in the least as if she were going into a 
 decline, if that is what you mean. She had got rather fewer 
 freckles than I rememlDer, her boots were very muddy, and 
 tlie thumb of her right-hand glove had been mended with 
 thread which did not quite match. There 1 don't say I haven't 
 brought you sufficiently full particulars." 
 
 Nicholas sighed impatiently, but he did not say any more. 
 He did not want to heat of Joanna from Lady Florence. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 191 
 
 He had managed to put her very fairly successfully out of 
 his head while they had been abroad with plenty of amuse- 
 ment, and even now he was perhaps not so much disturbed 
 by regret, as by an utter dissatisfaction with life. 
 
 He and Lady Florence had come to a time which comes 
 generally even to the most happily married couples, a time 
 when they constantly managed to irritate and rub eacli other 
 up wrong, and when the friendship which is very needful as a 
 background to love was called for, and was called for in vain. 
 There was no friendship between Lady Florence and her lover. 
 
 In every way they seemed to have come to a dead wall. 
 Nicholas, no more than Lady Florence, was resigned to tlie 
 idea of spending the rest of his life in Ballylone, but neither 
 had he the energy to exert himself to get some way out of it, 
 some way of making money. And indeed there would have 
 been many difficulties before him. He just let things slide 
 from day to day, hoping against hope that a vague "some- 
 tliing" would turn up. 
 
 If someone would leave him a fortune, and Mr. Delacque 
 would die or consent to a divorce, he would marry Lady 
 Florence, and be a good man and an honest man. 
 
 But failing these eventualities what was to be the end of 
 it all ? 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 " And yonr sentence is written all the same, 
 And I can do nothing — pray, perhaps : 
 
 But soiaehow the world pnraiies its game, 
 If I pray, if I curse — for better or worse : 
 And my faith is torn to a thousand scraps. 
 
 And my heart feels ice when thy words breathe flame." 
 
 Lady Florence's appearance in church created an immense 
 commotion in Ballylone, and somehow seemed to emphasise 
 her wickedness to everybody. 
 
 Mrs. Conway made the allusion to her at morning prayers 
 next day so pointed as to be unmistakable, and summoned 
 Miss Clarke and Mr. Jellett to ClifE House in the afternoon to 
 discuss the engrossing topic. 
 
 Miss Clarke was radiant with virtue, but Mr. Jellett was 
 nei'vous and depressed. 
 
 "This cannot be permitted, " said Mrs. Conway emphatically, 
 and, as far as her hearers were concerned, not at all vaguely. 
 
 "It cannot," Miss Clarke chimed in, for once in perfect 
 accord. "That sinful woman must not be allowed to pollute 
 our holy church ; she must not be allowed to contaminate our 
 young people by her words and touch." 
 
102 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "She only spoke to Joanna because she knew her before, 
 when they were staying together with the Earl of Meredyth," 
 interposed Mrs. Conway, a little annoyed. Vain as were all 
 things of earth, she had a certain unacknowledged satisfaction 
 in Joanna's having stayed in the same house with Lady 
 Florence. 
 
 " How she dares in her effrontery to seat herself among 
 true worshippers, to hear the Commandments, which she is 
 breaking, read ! " 
 
 "I went to Mrs. McNat yesterday about her little Susan, 
 who has been taken into tliat evil house," said Mrs. Conway, 
 "and as the mother refused, ou my solemn warning, to take 
 the child away, I have been obliged to refuse to allow her to 
 come to me in Sunday-school any longer. SometliLng must 
 be done." 
 
 And Miss Clarke chimed in : " Something must be done." 
 
 Mr. Jellett looked overwhelmed. 
 
 "I quite agree with you — I quite agree," he said, as he, 
 always did, " but I can't do anytliing. I can't turn her out of 
 the church, you know." 
 
 " Can't do anything ? Can't turn her out of the church ? " 
 cried Miss Clarke, " but you must. You must visit her and 
 represent her sin to her — you must write to the bishop — you 
 must " 
 
 "I don't think the bishop could do anything either," said •■ 
 Mr. Jellett mildly. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that the Church cannot interfere when 
 a woman comes and lives in open sin in our midst, comes as an 
 emissary from the devil, whose example may destroy many, 
 many of the souls of your flock." 
 
 " I am afraid I can do nothing, except visit her, if you think 
 it would be of any good," said Mr. Jellett timidly, immensely 
 embarrassed by the conversation. 
 
 "It is your duty, your bounden duty to do so," said Mrs. 
 Conway gravely. " Perhaps you may bring her to view her 
 sinfulness in the right light — to see for herself that she is on 
 the way to perdition, and to free herself from the chains of 
 hell and the devil while there is yet time. It is your duty to 
 go to her, the parish expects it, /expect it." 
 
 "Of course, if you think it necessary," said Mr. Jellett 
 uncomfortably. " It is a painful task, but I agree with you— I 
 quite agree with you." 
 
 " It IS a Christian task," said Mrs. Conway, "and you will 
 feel it is so when you kneel before her hardened eyes, and 
 pray that she may be led to turn away from the broad path 
 that leadeth to destruction, or at least that others may be 
 saved from being led astray by her sinful example." 
 
 "Tell her that, long as she may live among us, she can 
 
A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 193 
 
 never hope that we will receive her into our midst, " said Miss 
 Clarice. 
 
 "But by prayer, penitence, and good works she may make 
 herself to be accepted by God," added Mrs. Conway, evidently 
 considering that He was less particular about His society. 
 
 "I quite agree with you," said Mr. Jellett meekly, upon 
 which he made his escape with the excuse of a choir practice, 
 and Mrs. Conway and Miss Clarke found Lady Florence's 
 character in their hands. 
 
 "I am thankful I have not a son to be led into sin," said 
 Mrs. Conway. 
 
 "I have a brother," said Miss Clarke, solemnly shaking her 
 head. 
 
 But even Mrs. Conway did not think there was much danger 
 for sedate, elderly Mr. Clarke, with a pimpled nose which 
 wronged him, and not an idea beyond the tenants and the crops. 
 
 "The strange woman of the Scriptures has come into our 
 midst," said Mrs. Conway solemnly. " From the temptations 
 of the Evil One, good Lord deliver us." 
 
 And then Joanna came in, and there was a dead silence, one 
 of those silences which tried her more than any speech. 
 
 Just now, with her heart full of pain and trouble, she could 
 not bear it, and broke out with hot impetuosity : 
 
 "Why do you always stop talking when I come in ?" she 
 cried. 
 
 There was a shocked pause. 
 
 " Joanna ! " said Mrs. Conway reprovingly. 
 
 " Well ? " said Joanna, -with much irritation. " Why ? " 
 
 "Because, my dear, we are speaking of a subject which is 
 unfit for the ears of a young girl," said Miss Clarke. 
 
 "A subject which you know nothing about," said Mrs. 
 Conway decidedly. 
 
 "Now that is nonsense," said Joanna, with a short laugh. 
 "Because I am a girl, do you think I am a fool ? Do you think 
 my eyes are shut to what passes directly in front of them ? 
 Do you think I don't know all about it, and who you are talk- 
 ing about, as well or better than you who have lived all your 
 lives at Ballylone ? " 
 
 " Has a bad example borne fruit so soon ? " said Miss Clarke 
 to Mrs. Conway. 
 
 "Joanna, go to your room," said Mrs. Conway, in the tones 
 she had used when Joanna was six years old. "We are 
 speaking of one whose name is unfit for your ears, who is 
 too hardened in sin to turn to the right." 
 
 ' ' And what is the right ? " cried Joanna passionately. " Is it 
 the right for her to leave the man who loves her, and the little 
 baby that is his and hers ? You who have never lived a day 
 of your lives — you can sit down here to judge one whose 
 
194 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 temptations you know nothing about. If it were me, I should 
 not leave him ! " 
 
 Mrs. Conway almost shrieked. 
 
 "Joanna, what are you saying? How can you compare 
 yourself to that sinful woman ? Is this the end of my years 
 of care, of the pains I have taken to keep you pure and 
 innocent ? " 
 
 " But oh ! it would be better if you were not so hard, if you 
 had a little more pity — ^for me too ! " said Joanna, and then 
 she moved suddenly out of the room, leaving her mother in a 
 distress which wa-s quite real. 
 
 Joanna herself did not know what sudden impulse had come 
 to her to speak out. It was the knowledge of the whispers 
 around her in all directions, and the half-concealed pity which 
 almost drove her mad. Did they think that if they did not 
 speak she would see and know nothing ? From Elizabeth she 
 had found out the night before that Sir Nicholas and Lady 
 Florence were not married, and with the baby as a link 
 between them this had .seemed to her a trouble the more, a 
 trouble that, knowing Sir Nicholas as she knew him, made her 
 hope of seeing him some day a good man the less. 
 
 It did not even occur to her that it made a reconciliation 
 between them possible; the baby was to her a stronger tie than 
 any marriage, and anything to unite her and Nicholas was 
 impossible now. 
 
 All the purity and faith and brightness of their engagement 
 was impossible — could never be again. 
 
 Joanna had no confidante; she had never had anyone to tell 
 her thoughts and hopes and troubles to except Nicholas, and 
 now there was nobody at all. 
 
 Nothing, she knew, could ever be the same again as it had 
 been not mucli more than a year ago, but for all that she had 
 her life to live like other people. If Nicholas had died, that 
 one happy year would have been something to have looked 
 back upon and have given her courage for ever, but indeed if 
 it had been only death which had come between them, she 
 would not have lacked courage ; he would have been always 
 her own, there would have been his memory, which soon 
 would have been all sweet, and which would have helped 
 always through the life which it would have been hers to 
 render worth something for his sake. 
 
 Some day, perhaps, even as things were, the bitterness in the 
 remembrance of that year would fade away, but happen what 
 might, neither in this world or the next could Nicholas be 
 hers again. 
 
 Joanna had ceased to wish that they should not meet. Now 
 that he had come here it must happen some day, and the 
 sooner it was passed and gone the better. 
 
A SELF-DESYING ORDmANGE. 1^5 
 
 It was the only way in which life could settle down again 
 to be more possible and less agitating. 
 
 To live as she had lived during these last few days was not 
 possible. 
 
 Nothing could come of seeing him again but pain, but even 
 that was better than living with the constant expectation of 
 seeing him. 
 
 "And the saddest thing of all," said Joanna to herself, 
 " would be to meet and not care." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 " I warn yon, men, take earnest heed, 
 Let not bright eyes your sight mislead." 
 
 Poor Mr. Jellett was very much perplexed and very 
 toiserable. 
 
 The idea of visiting and rebuking Lady Florence Delacque 
 for the error of lier ways was to him appalling, and would, he 
 felt convinced, result in no good. 
 
 It was only a few months since he had gone to visit the 
 daughter of one of his parishioners who had come to trouble, 
 and sinned and been sinned against, and the utter embarrass- 
 ment of that visit was still fresh in his memory. He had sat 
 opposite to lier with burning face and words that would not 
 come, till the girl herself, who was about his own age, had 
 come to his assistance. 
 
 And that was as nothing to what lay before him now. 
 
 Lady Florence's title impressed him a little undoubtedly ; 
 Mr. Jellett, belonging to the English middle class — a class 
 non-existent in Ireland, had a due respect and reverence for 
 titles. 
 
 But worse than this, Lady Florence was the loveliest woman 
 he had ever seen. She had come upon him, driving Miss 
 Chester completely out of his head, and yet he knew that 
 when he saw her again it must be as a mentor, and he had a 
 well-founded doubt of his own courage under the circum- 
 stances. 
 
 He did not go during that week, though he made up his 
 mind to the effort every morning, and it was not till he had 
 seen her once more in his church that he took a decided step. 
 It was Sacrament Sunday, and during the service he had 
 suffered untold agonies. If she elected to stay in, what was 
 he to do ? What steps was he to take ? 
 
 She was looking lovelier than ever, he thought, and as calm, 
 serene, and untroubled. She had come to church this Sunday 
 
196 A SELF-DENYINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 in her " sack and boot-laces," which, being interpreted, was a 
 serge dress and a sailor hat, and looked very young and 
 fresh. 
 
 Mr. Jellett was unspeakably relieved when she left the 
 church after the blessing, and the very next day lie went up 
 to the Lodge to see her, with many qualms at heart. 
 
 In the perturbation of his spirits he scarcely knew his 
 Sunday-school scholar, Susan McNat, when she opened the ' 
 hall-door for him, and gave her his name, as if tbey had never 
 met before. 
 
 And then he was ushered into the office, and into a little 
 domestic scene which was most disturbing. 
 
 Lady Florence was sitting over the fire with the baby fast 
 asleep on her knee. There were few changes in the room 
 since Mr. Jellett had last seen it. Lady Florence looked 
 upon attempts of improvement as hopeless, and besides, did 
 not like the idea of having to carry them out herself. 
 
 She was very dull that afternoon, bored to such an extent 
 that even the baby had been a distraction, and she was 
 delighted to see Mr. Jellett. Even a pink and white little 
 clergyman, overwhelmed with shyness, was better than 
 nobody. 
 
 " I am so glad to meet you," she said sweetly. "You must 
 excuse my getting up, as I don't want to wake the child. I 
 have been hoping you would call." 
 
 Under the present circumstances, not even Mr. Jellett was 
 unworthy of a little pleasant flattery. 
 
 He shook hands with Lady Florence and sat down beside 
 her, trying to remember what he had made up his mind to 
 say. 
 
 With his hostess before him, with the baby lying there con- 
 tentedly, and twining its little mottled fingers round its 
 mother's hand, everything seemed harder than ever. 
 
 " I have been intending to come for some time," he 
 said. 
 
 "If you hated your own company as much as I do," said 
 Lady Florence, "you would have some idea how welcome 
 you are. Don't let us talk loud, or we shall wake the baby, 
 and then farewell to all peace. Mr. Jellett, I don't know how 
 you live in this place ; don't you feel the dulness 3 " 
 
 " I have plenty to do— I am always bu&y," said Mr. Jellett. 
 
 "And I am an idle individual, so the dulness nearly 
 kills me." 
 
 It was a good opening, and could not be neglected. 
 
 " You could leave this place," said Mr. Jellett, crimsoning 
 at his own temerity. 
 
 "There's nothing I should like better," returned Lady Flor- 
 ence ; "but," she added, with a shrug of her shoulders, 
 
A SELF-DENTINa ORDINANCE. 197 
 
 "there are all sorts of drawbacks, Mr. Jellett. If you ask 
 Nicholas, he will give you a thousand reasons." 
 
 Then Mr. Jellett made a great effort ; if he was afraid of 
 Lady Florence, he was considerably more afraid of Mrs. Con- 
 way, and he might not have as good an opportunity for speak- 
 ing' again. 
 
 He said : "Oh, Lady Florence, it is you yourself I am 
 speaking of. Let me urge you — let me entreat you to — 
 to " 
 
 Here he came to utter grief. 
 
 Lady Florence meditated, leaving Mr, Jellett to suffer all 
 the embarrassment of his unfinislied words. Should she 
 utterly crush this little country clergyman, who had been so 
 impertinent as to dream of rebuking her, or was the triumph 
 of bringing him over to her side, despite his principles and his 
 disapproval, worth the trouble of being a little sweet ? 
 
 A few weeks ago, in spite of her predilection for mankind, 
 she would have decided that it was not, but now, after her 
 experience of Ballylone dulness, she thought that there might 
 be some amusement even in this ^ittle man's society and 
 admiration. 
 
 So she looked at him very sadly, and sighed before she 
 spoke. 
 
 "I thought," she said, " that you had come to see me out of 
 kindness. Mr. Jellett, I am not a happy woman. Don't go 
 away leaving me a little more miserable than I was when you 
 came." 
 
 Mr. Jellett felt a glow of pleasure and gratified .vanity. 
 Was he after all to succeed beyond the wildest desires ? Was 
 it possible that his words had such an effect upon the loveliest 
 woman he had ever seen ? He began to feel the full ioy of 
 duty fulfilled. 
 
 '■Then you won't refuse to listen to me, if I urge you to 
 
 leave this life— to turn to the right " he began, with 
 
 increasing courage. 
 
 " But indeed I cannot listen to you to-day," said Lady Flor- 
 ence meekly. " Wait till we know each other a little better, 
 and then I can perhaps tell you the whole miserable story. I 
 can't speak of such trouble to a stranger." 
 
 " But in the meantime— can I not be useful in any way to 
 take you from here ? " 
 
 "I have nowhere in the wide world to go to," said Lady 
 Florence, with touching candour. 
 
 She knew that her very easy conquest was gained, and the 
 way in which it had been gained did not trouble her pride. 
 Her pride had never been troublesome in her relations with 
 men. 
 
 She sat there in the dusk with Mr. Jellett, fascinating and 
 
198 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 bewildering the unfortunate man till he hardly knew what ho 
 was doing. 
 
 And then Nicholas came in, greeted him warmly, and asked 
 Lady Florence why she had not ordered tea, laying his hand 
 caressingly on her shoulder ; and the baby woke, and smiled 
 up in Mr. Jellett's face till Mrs. Carroll was summoned to take 
 it away. They all sat round the fire together and Lady Flor- 
 ence made tea, while Mr. Jellett rebuked himself for thinking 
 that they were the pleasantest people he had ever met, and 
 forgot that his own position in. their midst was not likely to be 
 approved of by Mrs. Conway. 
 
 He would have departed without another word said of the 
 many he had intended to say, if Nicholas had not taken it into 
 his head to stroll down the avenue with him, thereby giving 
 the susceptible youth a little time to recover from Lady Flor- 
 ence's influence. 
 
 Consequently, when Nicholas shook hands with him at the 
 gate, and said that he hoped to see hira often, Mr. Jellett 
 spoke out. 
 
 " It is impossible for me to visit in your house, except as a 
 clergyman, Sir Nicholas," he said, and Sir Nicholas, after 
 staring at him for a minute, and growing rather red, answered 
 with his grandest manner, and a slight stammer : " Indeed ? 
 Clergymen are not particularly in our line, so we needn't 
 trouble you." 
 
 Mr. Jellett went home, convinced that Lady Florence was 
 but the victim of Sir Nicholas' guilty passion, and that it lay 
 in his power, and in his duty, to bring her back to the paths 
 of right. 
 
 But his somewhat lame account of his visit by no means 
 satisfied Mrs. Conway. Charity was not a strong point of her 
 character, and she was not unnaturally prepared to think the 
 worst of the woman who had so injured Joanna. She was 
 not inclined to agree with Mr. Jellett, in thinking her a re- 
 pentant, and injured woman, and before the end of that week 
 came she had made up her mind to see how things were for 
 herself, 
 
 Was there a certain amount of curiosity mingled with her 
 virtue ? If there was, Mrs. Conway herself did not know it. 
 
 She dressed herself in black, with a certain sense of appropri- 
 ateness, but she put on her newest bonnet, which was not very 
 new, and a pair of gloves she had never worn before. 
 
 She was not at all afraid of lacking words, not even should 
 she meet Sir Nicholas, who had in old times been rather a 
 favourite of hers. 
 
 Lady Florence was lounging over the fire in a state of bore- 
 dom, and waiting for Nicholas, who was somewhere about 
 the stables, when Mrs. Conway's ring came at the door. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 199 
 
 There was nobody in the house to answer it ; Susan McNat 
 was out with tlie baby, which she had no business to be, at 
 six o 'clock in the evening, and Mrs. Carroll was milking the 
 one cow, surrounded by children. 
 
 Consequently, after listening to a couple of rings and a 
 good deal of knocking, Lady Florence made up her mind to 
 see who was at the door, partly because the knocking and ring- 
 ing annoyed her, and partly because she had a certain curios- 
 ity, born of idleness, to know who was there. 
 
 She knew very well what Mrs. Conway had come for, but 
 she was delighted to see her ; she was cross and bored, and 
 just in the humour for a battle — a battle in which she had an 
 untroubled conviction that she would be on the winning side. 
 
 "Do come in," she said sweetly. "Have you had tea? 
 Ours is over, but I can have some made for you in a minute." 
 
 "Thank you, no," said Mrs. Conway solemnly. 
 
 " Come in to the lamp and the fire, then," said Lady 
 Florence, still agreeable. " How is Miss Conway ? " 
 
 " I wonder, Lady Florence Delacque," said Mrs. Conway, in 
 her sternest tones, "that you dare to look me in the face, 
 much more to take the innocent name of my daughter upon 
 your lips." 
 
 She stood in the lamplight, a little way from the culprit, a 
 very righteous and upright figure, with all the narrowness in 
 her words and manner of a North of Ireland woman whose 
 belongings of past generations had been Presbyterians. 
 
 If Lady Florence's crime had been that she had turned to the 
 East during the creed, it would have been just the same. 
 
 Lady Florence did not sit down, but she leaned against the 
 chimney-board, and answered Mrs. Conway only by a shrug 
 of her shoulders, and a raising of her eyebrows. 
 
 "You have come to live among us, breaking God's com- 
 mandments, leading others astray by your life of dissipation 
 and wickedness." 
 
 "I hope I haven't led you or Miss Conway astray," said 
 Lady Florence politely. " And I don't think Nicholas and I 
 are having a particularly dissipated time of it here, worse 
 luck." 
 
 " You dare to mention to me the partner of your guilt ! 
 Why do I stay in this house a moment longer ? " 
 
 "I am sure I don't know," said Lady Florence, still undis- 
 turbed. "It isn't in the least necessary that you should." 
 
 "Woman !" said Mrs. Conway, at which Lady Florence 
 very unaffectedly burst out laughing, "I will pray for you. 
 It is all I can do for one so hardened in wickedness." 
 
 "It is very kind of you, lam sure," said Lady Florence. 
 '_' But I must say, you sound more like cursing than praying, 
 just at present." 
 
200 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "For the last time I ask you, will you turn from your life 
 of sin ? Will you shake yourself free from the clutches of 
 the devil ? " 
 
 " You never asked me that before," said Lady Florence. " If 
 anything was likely to move me, it would be seeing in your 
 person how charming good people are ; how kind, how gentle. 
 Will you excuse me, Mrs. Conway? it is time for the baby to 
 be put to bed." 
 
 At which Mrs. Conway fled, utterly routed, and Lady 
 riorence accompanied her to the door, and sent her love to 
 Joanna. 
 
 She was victorious, and she was undoubtedly equal to a 
 contest with anybody in Ballylone, but oh, how dreary and 
 miserable it ail was — how tired she was of every thing and 
 person about the Lodge, even, at times, of Nicholas himself ! " 
 
 Lady Florence was as unhappy as her worst enemy could 
 have wished, and sometimes she felt as if death would be 
 better than these endless days at Ballylone, when evei-ybody 
 else was in London. 
 
 She read in the papers of entertainments of all kinds, in 
 which her name had once been prominent, and felt that her 
 punishment was harder than she could bear. 
 
 But for the cruelty of Mr. Delacque, something might have 
 been possible. 
 
 Certainly, Lady Florence felt herself a very hardly used 
 woman. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 " Get money ; still get money. . . 
 No matter by what means." 
 
 " Mrs. Carroll, how can you let that dirty child nurse the 
 baby ? " said Lady Florence sharply. 
 
 The eldest little Carroll was sitting on the kitchen door-step 
 with the baby, in a great state of contentment, on her knee, 
 and a couple more children crawling about her. 
 
 At another time, Lady Florence would probably have 
 passed the group with a shrug, but she was feeling bored and 
 cross, and was glad of an opportunity of blaming anybody. 
 
 " It is not easy to know who else would nurse the child, 
 my lady," said Mrs. Carroll, having adopted this style of ad- 
 dressing her mistress under protest. "Sure Susan had to go 
 down to the town for about a dozen things that your ladyship 
 wanted, and it is telling me not to have a baby to care, when 
 I have your dinner to make ready." 
 
 "I never said that Susan need go with those messages." 
 
A SELF-JDENTINQ ORDINAKCE. 201 
 
 "And who else would go? It's not one of the childer I 
 could send out in the dark." 
 
 Mrs. Carroll turned to the fire again, muttering something 
 half to herself about ''■that unreasonable — no pleasing her." 
 
 " Well, if the child must nurse her, she might at least have 
 a clean frock." 
 
 "And how long would she keep it clean when my back was 
 turned ? If you had as many as I have, my lady " 
 
 "May the saints preserve me !" said Lady Florence fer- 
 vently, shocking her hearer beyond words. 
 
 Then Nicholas, who had been out with Lady Florence and 
 had lingered a little behind her, came in. 
 
 " Have you got a sixpence or a few coppers, Floss ? " he said. 
 " That wretched O'Brien is up here begging again." 
 
 " He'H only take it to the public house, as you know, Nick, " 
 said Lady Florence, feeling in her pocket all the same. 
 
 "That he will, sir," said Mrs. Carroll, brightening up, as 
 usual, in the presence of her favourite. " He was never more 
 than a poor doited creature at the best, but since they turned 
 him away at Cliff House and he can get no more ether, he is 
 worse than ever." 
 
 "I must give him sixpence to get rid of him, anyhow," said 
 Nicholas. 
 
 " It's Tuesday come eight days, he was up here," said Mrs. 
 Carroll, changing the position of her pots, and taking a glance 
 into the oven where the pudding was baking, "and he stood 
 as it might be where you are, sir, and says he : ' My ma's gone 
 away to the House, and it's till death's day I'll bless you if you 
 have something for me ' ; and says I : ' If I have, sure you'll 
 only drink it,' and says he : 'And if I do, wouldn't it be for- 
 getting all my troubles I'd be ? ' It's ether that has been the 
 curse of this country, sir, and now that there's a law to keep 
 them from getting it, there's them like Eichard O'Brien that 
 can't thole to do without something." 
 
 "I shouldn't think it was nice to take," said Lady Florence, 
 who had at last produced a sixpence. 
 
 "There's no two minds about that, my lady," said Mrs. 
 Carroll, " but it comes cheaper than whiskey and acts quicker, 
 and I've heard tell of the lovely dreams it gives you, and that 
 it makes you happy no matter what is wrong." 
 
 "Here, Floss, are you going to give me that sixpence," said 
 Nicholas. 
 
 " No," said Lady Florence suddenly. "Go and get ready for 
 dinner. I shall speak to the man myself. I am rather curious 
 to see an ether drinker." 
 
 "You must be very hard up for something to do," said 
 Nicholas, laughing, but not a little astonished. It was very 
 unlike Lady Florence to take an interest in a man like O'Brien. 
 
202 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Eichard O'Brien was lounging against the wall, in the full, 
 light of the stable lamp. He had been loutish in his best days, 
 the days when he had slouched about Cliff House, doing as 
 little work as possible ; now, with his rounded shoulders, his 
 unwholesome face, his long, uncombed red hair, he looked 
 half a savage. 
 
 "You are O'Brien, I suppose ? " said Lady Florence, survey- 
 ing him with disgust, and keeping as far away as possible. 
 " Sir Nicholas has sent you out some money, but before I give 
 it to you, I want to know how you will spend it." 
 
 " Sure, what would your ladyship know of the wants of the 
 like of me— the heavens be your bed," said the man. 
 
 "Tliey say indoors that you would spend it all in drink — is 
 that true ? " said Lady Florence. " I shall give it to you all the 
 same, so you needn't be afraid to tell me. When you want 
 food and clothes and— everything, would you still rather have 
 drink ? " 
 
 Richard O'Brien looked at her with some hesitation. 
 
 " And if I did," he said, "wouldn't the drink make me for- 
 get that I was cold or hungry ? Wouldn't it be like food and 
 drink to me at the one time ? " 
 
 "And it would make you happy?" said Lady Florence, 
 "Here, take this, and do what you like with it — they won't 
 give you ether for it now ? " 
 
 " And it's that I can't live without," said O'Brien. " And 
 now it's only the quality^fine ladies, the like of you tiiat 
 doesn't want it, that can get it, and not a drop for the like of 
 me, for love or money. And it's not the king upon his throne 
 I would envy, if I had it. Long life to your ladyship I May 
 all the blessings of Heaven rest on your head this day for the 
 help you have given a poor man ! 
 
 Lady Florence turned slowly away to the house. 
 
 "It's not the king on his throne I would envy if I had it." 
 " It makes you happy no matter what is wrong." "It's only 
 fine ladies — the like of you that doesn't want it, that can 
 get it." 
 
 The words kept on saying themselves in her head as she 
 went upstairs to get ready for dinner. 
 
 Late that evening she made a last appeal to Nicholas to take 
 her away. She stood before him, with her arms round his 
 neck, and her head on his shoulder, and begged as she had 
 never begged before. 
 
 " Let us go away — anywhere, anywhere, Nick! I can't bear 
 it, the dulness is killing me. If you ever cared for me, if you 
 have the least scrap of love in your heart for me now, take me 
 
 away 
 
 I" 
 
 Nicholas was not in a mood for sentiment at all. He was in 
 the middle of an abstruse calculation as to whether it would 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 203 
 
 be better to sell the Witch at once, or to put her out to grass 
 for the summer, and try to get a better price when the hunt- 
 ing season was near, and into this Lady Florence came, 
 entreating, excited in a way for which there was no apparent 
 reason. 
 
 "My dear Florence," he said, kindly enough, " I have told 
 you S, dozen times that I would be as glad to go away as you 
 if there was any money to be had. Need I repeat for the 
 fiftieth time that it is impossible ? " 
 
 "But for my sake, Nick, darling, can't you manage it some- 
 how ? Can't you beg, borrow, or steal enough to take us away 
 from hei'e, no matter how poorly we may have to live some- 
 where else ? Why should it cost any more to live abroad ? " 
 
 "Because this is my house, and because we have no money 
 to take us abroad. Look here, Floss, be a reasonable being. 
 Who knows what may turn up some day ? " 
 
 "For God's sake, Nick, take me awayl You will be sorry 
 for it some day if you won't listen to me. The life here is kill- 
 ing me — it is driving me mad — it — it " 
 
 She broke into stormy sobs, and Nicholas suggested, rather 
 impatiently, that she had better go to bed. 
 
 "Oh, you don't know what you are doing — you don't know 
 what you are doing ! " she cried, but she went, nevertheless. 
 
 Next day she wrote to Lady Hilda West, entreating her to 
 help her, to take her away, even though it should mean a 
 separation from Nicholas. 
 
 "At least," she said to herself characteristically, "I will 
 give them every chance, so that I need not blame myself, 
 whatever happens." 
 
 And she really did believe that she had shifted the responsi- 
 bility of the future from her own shoulders. 
 
 But day after day passed without any answer from Lady 
 Hilda, for the very good reason that she had gone off on a 
 yachting expedition to Norway. 
 
 And so a whole month dragged away. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLVI. 
 
 " Since all that I can ever do for tliee 
 Is to do nothinR, may'st thou never see, 
 Never divine : the all that nothing costeth me." 
 
 "Is it necessary to gallop invariably?" said Joanna re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 Young Kelly had caught sight of her in Ballylone Street, 
 and had drawn up his horse with a suddenness which nearly 
 brought horse and rider to the ground. 
 
204 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "I like to go at a good pace, I must sajr," he returned ; " and 
 besides, I was afraid I sliould not be in time to catch you 
 before you turned up the. short cut." 
 
 " But look how hot this poor thing is. Mr. Kelly, you ride 
 like tiie traditional sailor. Was it absolutely vital that you 
 should catch me before I turned up the short cut ? " 
 
 "You ungrateful girl ! I liave taken all the trouble of 
 riding into Ballylone to bring you an invitation, and in return 
 you won't be decently civil." 
 
 "I only venture to disapprove of your riding like Jehu," 
 said Joanna lightly. 
 
 " I thouglit it was driving he was celebrated for ? " 
 
 " Well, I find just as much to object to there. Why, it is 
 only a few days since you nearly drove over Polly and me 
 with your tandem, and ended with the back of the dog-cart 
 in McCracken's shop." 
 
 " And you told me I had better learn to drive one horse be- 
 fore I undertook two," said Marcus Kelly, laughing. 
 
 "That was rude, I admit," said Joanna, "but I was 
 friglitened." 
 
 Marcus Kelly had jumped off his horse, and they stood 
 together in the middle of the street. Joanna liked him, and 
 patronised and snubbed him as she pleased; he was so young, 
 so ridiculously young ; he made her feel like an old woman. 
 
 " Have you ever driven tandem, Miss Conway ?" he said ; 
 "will you come with me some day !" 
 
 "Thank you ; I had much rather not," said Joanna fer- 
 vently. 
 
 She thought of her last tandem drive, with the Campbell 
 twins, at Merevale, and how they had taken a short cut on 
 the way, which had landed them in all sorts of difficulties. 
 They had come to a descent like a precipice, and having sur- 
 vived this, they had reached a ford, which in consequence 
 of some heavy rain had ceased to be one, and they had been 
 obliged to turn back, arriving at their destination when every- 
 body else was going away, to find Sir Nicholas distinctly 
 jealous. 
 
 Joanna did not think she would like another tandem drive. 
 
 At that moment, as the two stood tliere in a sudden silence, 
 Nicholas Osborne came directly round the corner by the post- 
 office, facing them. 
 
 Though he had been at the Lodge for nearly six weeks, it 
 was the first time Joanna had met him, and, as the time had 
 gone by, it had begun to seem possible to her that they might 
 live near each other for months without meeting, and the 
 agitating necessity of going sometimes outside the gates of 
 Cliff House became less agitating. 
 
 And now, here he came towards her, just as he might have 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBDINANOE. 205 
 
 done long ago, -with his hat at the angle she knew so well, 
 and the old air of grandeur in his walk and manner. 
 , He caught sight of the other two at the same moment, but 
 it was too late to turn back, and it was impossible to pretend 
 blindness. ji. , j 
 
 Mr. Kelly looked a little embarrassed, and made an attected 
 examination of his saddle girths. Nicholas hesitated for a 
 moment, and then came on, flushing, and putting up his hand 
 to twist his moustache, as he always did when he was embar- 
 rassed or annoyed. 
 
 Joanna bowed, and Nicholas raised his cap ; Marcus Kelly 
 said, "How are you, Osborne !" and he replied nothing; 
 then he passed on, quickening his pace a little ; they stood 
 still, and it was all over. 
 
 " It was not so hard, after all," said Joanna to herself, with 
 a white face. But her hands were trembling so that she could 
 scarcely hold her umbrella. 
 
 " I had better give you my mother's note now; I must he 
 ofP," said Mr. Kelly, who was still a little embarrassed. " It 
 is to ask if any of you will come over for tennis next week. 
 You will come, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna vaguely, "I should like it very much. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 "Wait a minute ; you are forgetting the note," said Mr. 
 Kelly, and Joanna laughed and said she was very stupid. 
 
 But all the same, she put the note into her pocket, and for- 
 got about it till next morning. 
 
 The meeting had not been so very terrible after all, and she 
 need not be afraid of seeing Nicholas now. Nobody, she 
 flattered herself — neither Marcus Kelly nor the curious in- 
 habitants of Ballylone — could have noticed anything. 
 
 Only when she gave her mother Mrs. Kelly's note next day, 
 she did not tell her that she had received it nearly twenty-four 
 hours earlier. 
 
 Mrs. Conway accepted the invitation without demur. She 
 was anxious about Joanna, who had been rather beyond her 
 management and comprehension ever since Sir Nicholas' 
 arrival at the Lodge. Something, even in the shape of fri- 
 volity, was desirable to occupy her mind, and the Kellys' 
 frivolity was of an exceedingly sedate description, and, more- 
 over, had the seal of the county upon it. 
 
 Mr. Conway, with his head full of the approaching Ulster 
 Convention and the possibilities of Home Rule, had no opinion 
 to give. 
 
 "Do whatever you like," he said. " We shall all be ruined 
 in a year or so, so it doesn't much matter, and as for Joanna, 
 it is very likely she hasn't seen her worst troubles yet." 
 
 So Joanna was told to write an acceptance, which she did 
 14 
 
206 A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 with rather ioo fervent expressions of satisfaction, and an 
 interest in her clothes which was not entirely genuine. 
 
 All the same she liked to go ; she liked to wear good clothes, 
 and slie liked to drive on the outside ear from McCracken's, 
 which had seen better days. Joanna, having never had aiiy- 
 tliing of lier own better than a school-cart and a Shetland pony, 
 was not too particular, and Eoddy McCracken, who himself 
 condescended to drive the car, always amused her. She had 
 got on her best dress, a gray cloth which she had got in Derry 
 before going to Merevale, and which was a little hot for the 
 day ; but then it was impossible to have everything, and it did 
 not look hot. 
 
 The Kellys' place was very different indeed from Merevale, 
 ■which was Joanna's only other experience of county society. 
 
 To begin with, it was very, very much smaller, and the 
 Kellys were not at all rich, though they were important people 
 in the county. 
 
 Also, they were eminently respectable, and there were no 
 doubtful people nor doubtful entertainments with them. 
 
 But the greatest diflFerence which struck Joanna that after- 
 noon was that they were excellent hosts. 
 
 When Lady Meredyth invited unimportant people to Mere- 
 vale, she considered that her duty was completed, and that it 
 was not at all incumbent upon her to have anything to say 
 to them when they came; but Mrs. Kelly and her daughters 
 took as much trouble for Joanna, who was, as she told herself 
 proudly, a nobody, as for anyone else who was there. 
 
 Even Mrs. Conway could not help being propitiated when 
 Mr. Kelly himself, Marcus' elder brother, found a seat for her, 
 and bestirred himself to be agreeable. 
 
 Joanna enjoyed herself ; she liked tennis, as she did most 
 games, and though her chances of practising were few and far 
 between, she found that she did not play worse than plenty 
 of others. Marcus was her shadow, but his family were not 
 at all anxious ; it was only Marcus' way — a way which had 
 begun with his first knickerbockers, and lasted ever since, 
 with an infinite variety in the objects of his admiration. 
 
 Joanna thought him a nice boy, but he bored her a little ; 
 admiration for its own sake she did not much care about ; it 
 was simply not in her line; she had other things in her head, 
 and, boy-like, Mr. Kelly contrived to make himself rather a 
 bother by being simply ubiquitous, and having no refine- 
 ments whatever in his determination to do as he wished. 
 
 It was just before tea, when she had managed to get rid of 
 him for a few jninutes, that the happiest time of the day came 
 to her, to be succeeded only too quickly by the most miserable. 
 
 "Mrs. FitzHerbert wants to be introduced to you. Miss 
 Conway," said one of the Kelly girls, and Joanna was taken 
 
A SELF-DENYINO ORDINANCE. 207 
 
 across the lawn, and introduced to a pretty, little old lady- 
 she had seen sometimes driving about in her carriage in 
 
 Deri*v« 
 
 " I suppose this isn't the right time to talk business, Miss 
 Conway," she said, "but I live so far on the other side of 
 Derry that we have few chances of meeting. I have seen 
 some of your carvings, and I want to ask you if you will 
 undertake a small commission for me." 
 
 Would she undertake it ! Joanna sat decorously still, but 
 she could have risen and danced upon the lawn in joy. She 
 had sold carvings before now, and parted from her work vyith 
 mixed sorrow and satisfaction, but it was her first commission, 
 and the difference was wide. 
 
 "If I can do it well enough," she said, " I shall be glad, 
 and I thank you very much. I will do my very best." 
 
 "It is something for a wedding present that I want," said 
 Mrs. FitzHerbert, " and it must be something that won't take 
 you too much time or cost me too much money. We must 
 arrange about the price on the most business principles. You 
 take lessons from Mr. Tesser in Derry, don't you ? Shall 
 we refer it to him ? " 
 
 Joanna was very nearly saying that she would be very glad 
 to leave it all to Mrs. FitzHerbert herself, but she decided 
 that this would be un business-like, and above all things she 
 wished to be business-like. 
 
 So she only said ; " I daresay that will be best, but I can't 
 expect much for my first commission. Thank you very much, 
 indeed, Mrs. FitzHerbert, and of course if you don't like what 
 I do, I will keep it." 
 
 Was there happiness before her after all ? Not the same 
 kind of happiness as she had once dreamt of, but a kind 
 which was by no means to be despised. Was London becom- 
 ing a real possibility, and a life which would be living ? She 
 was not good enough, she said to herself, to settle down con- 
 tentedly in Ballylone, and live her life for other people. She 
 could not efface herself, and give herself away to her family 
 and the poor, though she had all along had an uncomfortable 
 suspicion that this would have been the proper thing for her 
 to do under the circumstances— the decorous, usual thing. 
 
 It is hard to say why this was the first time that Joanna 
 really felt that one day things might once more be well with 
 her — that there were other things in the world besides love 
 and marriage— other ways of being happy. 
 
 She was at a disadvantage with other girls in this, that the 
 mere joy of living had gone, and could never be replaced, but 
 was it wholly a disadvantage ? She would not have had that 
 sweet glad year of her life effaced, not if by doing so all past 
 and future pain could be driven away. 
 
208 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 All the time another part of Joanna's mind was attending 
 to her conversation with Mrs. FitzHerbert. 
 
 They talked about carving, and presently they discovered 
 that there was another link of sympathy between them: Mrs. 
 FitzHerbert kept bees; she found that Joanna was able to 
 give her a good many hints, and she ended by asking the 
 girl to come over and see her next time she came up to 
 Derry for a carving lesson. 
 
 Then Sir Richard Sherbourne, an elderly gentleman Joanna 
 knew slightly, came up and talked for a little, and brouglit 
 them over a little tea-table, where they had a select party of 
 three ; Joanna enjoyed it very much. 
 
 Then, when he and Mrs. FitzHerbert began to talk about the 
 election prospects, Joanna, being rather overwhelmed with 
 that subject at home, and not liking, besides, to express her 
 opinions, allowed herself to wander into a dream of London. 
 
 She was roused by a very familiar name. 
 
 " I suppose there is not much use in my writing to that 
 young Osborne," Sir Richard Sherbourne was saying. "He 
 can't have much influence or standing, but I conclude he 
 will, at least, give us his vote ? " 
 
 "You know all about him, I am sure," said Mrs. Fitz- 
 Herbert. 
 
 " He's got himself into all sorts of trouble," Sir Richard said, 
 shaking his head. " He is in debt to the very shop-keepers in 
 the village, I believe, and they say he drinks." 
 
 Joanna put down her tea-cup rather noisily, but nobody 
 noticed her. 
 
 "I never heard that," said Mrs. FitzHerbert. "What I 
 heard was that she drinks, and I heard it as a fact, from a 
 person who ought to know." 
 
 " Very likely that may be the way of it." 
 
 "I have seen for myself thit he makes associates of the 
 men in the village," said Mrs. FitzHerbert, "but I suppose 
 he's very hard put to it for society. I am afraid he's a ne'er- 
 do-well sort of young fellow at best, without the energy to go 
 to the bad actively any more than he has the energy to do 
 anything else." 
 
 Joanna sat still, with a burning face, trying to eat her plate 
 of strawberries. What could she do ? If her companions 
 knew of her connection with Sir Nicholas, which in all prob- 
 ability they did, they had clearly forgotten it, and to get up 
 and walk across the lawn alone was more than she had cour- 
 age for ; besides she wanted to know all about Nicholas — 
 oh, how badly she wanted to know ! 
 
 Only a few minutes ago she had been almost happy in the 
 thought of what could be made of her own life, and now she 
 heard this about him. 
 
A SELF-DENTING- ORDINANCE. 209 
 
 " Thei-e are several nasty stories about young Osborne," said 
 Sir Eichard; " but all the same I suppose lie will be likely to 
 go to Belfast as a delegate, and I will speak to him there if I 
 get a chance. From all accounts Lady Florence Delacque is 
 a handful for any man. But to live in a place like Ballylone 
 with nothing to do is very bad for any young fellow." 
 
 "When he first came over "Mrs. FitzHerbert began, 
 
 and then she all at once remembered Joanna and came to a 
 dead pause. 
 
 "Oh, good Heavens!" she said, and then added very 
 hastily, " how is Lady Sherbourne ? " 
 
 At which Sir Richard was a little astonished, as Mrs. 
 FitzHerbert had met his wife in excellent health in the earlier 
 part of the afternoon. 
 
 But there was no more brightness that day for Joanna, no 
 more pleasure, nothing but a longing to get home. 
 
 She thought of Mr. Kestrell at Merevale, and remembered 
 the pity she had felt for that insipid young man, in the dis- 
 grace of his wife. And now, if this same misery came to 
 Nicholas, if Lady Florence drank, how could Joanna dream 
 of being happy herself ? 
 
 What was Nicholas making of his life ? Nicholas, for whom 
 she had had such hopes and plans, of whom she knew she 
 could have made something. 
 
 Was he every day to siiik a little and a little lower in her 
 very sight ? 
 
 And not the sacriBce of her life or of all that made life most 
 worth living, could do him any good. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 " To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? 
 May I take your hand in mine ? 
 Mere friends are we — well, friends the merest 
 Keep much that I'll resign. 
 
 Yet I will but say what mere friends say, 
 Or only a thought stronger ; 
 I will hold your hand but so long as all may, 
 Or so very little longer " 
 
 V 
 
 Ballylone broke out into gaiety in the beginning of June. 
 
 Everybody began to give tennis parties, at which of course 
 the same people were always to be met, and Joanna went 
 everywhere she was asked, just for something to fill up the 
 afternoons, while the mornings and evenings were given to 
 carving. 
 
210 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 The Conways themselves had a strawberry party in the 
 meadow by the river, for which Mrs. Morris made a rapid and 
 transient recovery. 
 
 But the greatest excitement of all was a Gymkhana given 
 by a neighbouring militia, to which Joanna went with Mrs. 
 Chester, as Edith was somewhere in the south and Mrs. Con- 
 way would not go. 
 
 Nobody in Ballylone knew exactly what a Gymkhana was, 
 and while some decided that it was a name which the Rifles 
 had seen fit to bestow upon their camp, others looked upon the 
 word as an unsolvable mystery, and among these was Mrs. 
 Conway, who was afraid to go lest she should be betrayed into 
 some new and strange dissipation of which she could not 
 approve. 
 
 Mrs. Chester said she must at least go and find out what she 
 was asked to, and that curiosity alone would bring her. 
 
 Joanna said to herself that she was quite sure Sir Nicholas 
 would not be there, or she would have stayed at home; he 
 had not been to any of the other entertainments, and why 
 should he go to this ? Lady Florence would not be asked, 
 and he could not go without her. 
 
 But all the same, she mentioned to nobody that they had 
 once got up an impromptu Gymkhana at Merevale, and that 
 she knew that it had to do with the games on horseback and 
 horseraces. 
 
 They had not been two minutes at the camp, they had not 
 even taken their places by the racecourse, before she saw him, 
 long before Mrs. Chester had any idea he was there. 
 
 He was standing in a group of men, with a long coat over 
 his racing kit, inspecting the spears which had been prepared 
 for tent-pegging. 
 
 Nicholas was not in the best of tempers. His invitation to 
 the Rifles had not included Lady Florence, and having been 
 seen by her, had roused her to an angry protest that he should 
 not go. 
 
 He had said, " Very well," and had made his own arrange- 
 ments without further remark. Nothing was worth having 
 a row over, but he had every intention of going, and as 
 several of the competitions were open, he amused himself dur- 
 ing the intervening days in giving Benedict a little practice. 
 
 But at the very last minute Lady Florence had discovered 
 that he was going, and had made a scene, to his extreme 
 annoyance. He had not given in, but he was worried and 
 vexed. 
 
 But he rode away his vexation. He was perfectly happy ; 
 he loved to feel Benedict quivering with excitement under 
 him ; there was no fear that either his patience or his courage 
 would give way, when again and again the young horse 
 
A SELF-DENYINO OBBINANOE. 211 
 
 refused to be brought into line ; and yet there was no swagger 
 about Nicholas' riding, no attempt to show off. 
 
 He did not win the race ; half mad with excitement and the 
 galloping of the other horses, Benedict swerved at the second 
 fence and bolted, and by the time Nicholas got him back to 
 the course the race was over. 
 
 The runaway had created a little excitement and alarm 
 among the spectators, but Joanna had proudly refused to be 
 alarmed. 
 
 Somebody beside her said : "Oh, he will be killed ! " and 
 she smiled to herself with pei'fect faith in Nicholas on horse- 
 back. 
 
 Later on Benedict redeemed his character over tent-pegging 
 and tilting at the ring, and then came tea in one of the tents. 
 
 Here tlie ubiquitous Mr. Kelly made his appearance. He 
 had distinguished himself in tent-pegging by overbalancing 
 himself and falling oflf on his head, but neither his head or his 
 feelings seemed much the worse. 
 
 But, as a matter of course, he had to escort Mrs. Chester, and 
 Joanna was free to follow at her own sweet will, a few steps 
 behind. 
 
 And then a strange thing happened. 
 
 As they walked up to the tea tents they met Nicholas 
 Osborne, who had been to change into his ordinary clothes. 
 He hardly knew what impulse seized him not to pass with a 
 bow, or whether the impulse was only his ; he was excited 
 with his riding, ruffled with Lady Florence, and suddenly 
 found himself admiring Joanna in her white dress. 
 
 He paused, hesitated, without holding out his hand, and 
 said : " Will you let me take you for some tea ? " 
 
 Nicholas did not often expose himself to a possible snub. 
 
 All in a minute, Joanna had to make up her mind how to 
 treat her old lover. 
 
 "Thanks," she said, in a low voice, and she went with him 
 in silence, absolutely unaware that he had not followed Mrs. 
 Chester and young Kelly, but had taken her to the opposite 
 tent. 
 
 There was only one idea in her head at the moment, and an 
 idea which was absurdly disproportioned to the occasion ; it 
 was a hope, a prayer to herself, that he would not call her 
 Miss Conway, for that she felt she could not bear. 
 
 Neither of them said anything till he had brought her her 
 tea, which might as well have been vinegar, for all Joanna 
 knew about it. 
 
 He asked her if she would have sponge cake or currant, 
 and found her a comfortable seat in a corner, and she felt the 
 old delightful excitement of existence coming back, and began 
 to think there might be pleasures in friendship. 
 
212 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANOE. 
 
 Nicholas had a whiskey and soda himself before he came to 
 sit down beside her. They were in a corner a little way from 
 everybody else, and indeed, most of the guests had gone to the 
 other tent. 
 
 "Joanna," he said, " it is very good of you to speak to me. 
 I couldnH pass you as a stranger ; again it was too unbearable 
 that day in Ballylone." 
 
 Joanna gave a long sigh. Other people had been sorry for 
 her, but nobody had understood — there had been nobody who 
 had felt with her all that long year. The old habit of feeling 
 sure that whatever worried her, Nicholas would know and 
 understand, was coming back very strongly. It was so hard 
 to realise the difference. 
 
 ' ' You are the only girl in the world who would be so 
 sweet and so noble," said Nicholas, still very low. " My 
 wicked madness has brought me misery enough, but I deserve 
 it. It would be all right, if I was the only one to suffer. 
 Joanna, I daren't hope for your friendship or foi-giveness." 
 
 " Nicholas," said Joanna, " you know I forgive you." 
 
 "I know you are the dearest, purest, sweetest girl in all the 
 world ! " said Nicholas passionately. "Joanna, I know how 
 to value you now that it is too late. Yes, I know I mustn't 
 speak like this again, dear, and I won't. Let us talk about 
 something else." 
 
 They did ; they even laughed and discussed the people 
 round them, and Joanna, at least, began madly to dream of 
 friendship. It was such a relief — a relief that Nicholas could 
 not know — to feel that she could say what she liked, that she 
 need have no difficulties, no reserves. 
 
 And to do him justice, he did not misunderstand her. 
 
 When he asked her to go for a stroll with him a little later, 
 she did hesitate, but even then it was only for a moment. 
 
 " Won't you come as a friend ? " he said. "I want to tell 
 you all about myself, and I will be very careful, dear." 
 
 Joanna went. Might not her friendship with him be a 
 possible means of making something of his life ? 
 
 " Have I changed ? " said Nicholas. 
 
 " No, not much," Joanna answered. 
 
 " You have, but I don't exactly know how. You are differ- 
 ent — you are older, I think," said Nicholas, and then there 
 was a pause, which both understood. 
 
 " Has your hair growUj dear ? " said he, and from his tone 
 he might as well have said "darling.'* Perhaps Joanna felt 
 this, for she drew away from him a little, as she thought of 
 that day in Merevale, when he had come to see her in her 
 room. 
 
 " I don't know," she said; " Idaresayit has." 
 
 "You look as sweet and pure as ever," said Nicholas, " and 
 
A SELF-DEN TINQ OBBINANGE. 213 
 
 as for me, I have been going headlong to the devil, ever since 
 I lost you, through my own fault." 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry," said she softly. 
 
 "Nicholas," she said, a little later, "you are not going to 
 make me more miserable, are you ? If you think you have 
 helped to spoil my life a little, if you feel you owe me any- 
 thing, won't you make up to me by keeping straight, and 
 being a good man, that I can feel proud of as my friend ? " 
 
 " I would do anything for you," said Nicholas. "But you 
 don't know how hard it is. I have not a sweet girl like you 
 to help me. Don't worry about me, little girl ; I have made a 
 mess of my life all through." 
 
 "But won't you try and make something of it now, for the 
 sake of old times," said Joanna; "for — for — Lady Florence's 
 sake " 
 
 "Don't ! " said Nicholas roughly. 
 
 But he was never ungenerous in the matter of promises, 
 and just then he really felt what he said. 
 
 Afterwards they talked about all sorts of things and people, 
 about Merevale, about Ballylone, sometimes checking them- 
 selves with a sense of approaching forbidden ground. 
 
 These were eloquent silences, which they both understood — 
 pauses when words were absolutely unnecessary. 
 
 When Joanna came back to Mrs. Chester at last, she felt 
 that friendship was indeed a thing to be prized, and that she 
 might still be of some use to Nicholas. She was so excited 
 that she scarcely knew what she was doing, and with glowing 
 cheeks and shining eyes, for once she looked really pretty ; 
 and she flattered herself that she looked just as usual. 
 
 She did not notice young Kelly's embarrassment, or Mrs. 
 Chester's stony silence ; she noticed nothing till they were 
 once more in the phaeton driving home, and there Mrs. 
 Chester expressed herself. ' 
 
 "Joanna," she said, " I am surprised; I am very much sur- 
 prised ! Get on ! " to the pony, who had taken advantage of 
 his mistress' abstraction to stop. Mrs. Chester drove with 
 both arms and with her body too, so it was seldom she tried to 
 do anything else at the same time. 
 
 Miss Chester was irreverently fond of adapting an old story 
 to her mother, about a Frenchman who had requested his 
 friend not to speak to him, as he was "busy riding." 
 
 Mrs. Chester was very busy driving, but all the same she 
 was too excited and indignant to restrain herself. 
 
 "I thought you were a steady girl, Joanna ; I thought I 
 might trust you ; I thought you were the last girl to wander 
 off in the woods all afternoon with a man who treated you 
 like that scoundrel " 
 
 " How dare you ! " cried Joanna. 
 
214 A 8ELF-DBNTINa ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Sit quiet this moment; you will frighten the pony," said 
 Mrs. Chester. "Joanna, such behaviour is neither ladylike 
 nor womanly, and is certainly lowering yourself very much. 
 Of course, Sir Nicholas simply thinks that you are doing your 
 best to catch him again, even now. Oh, dear, I see what is 
 the matter with the pony— I have been pulling the wrong rein." 
 
 Mrs. Chester was so kindly and good-natured in general that 
 her words hurt Joanna very much. 
 
 "You don't understand," she said. " He understands." 
 
 " I am afraid he understands only too well," said Mrs. 
 Chester. " What is that coming up rattling up behind. Do 
 shout for them to stop ; it is sure to frighten the pony." 
 
 But just then Joanna would not have cared much if the 
 sedate little pony had seen fit to end everthing in this world 
 for her. 
 
 Who was right — what was right ? 
 
 Nicholas, when he thanked her for her friendship and said 
 it was his one hope of salvation, or Mrs. Chester, when she 
 said these cruel things ? 
 
 CHAPTER XLVni. 
 
 "... Vous connaltrez un jour 
 Le tort que voas vous faitee ; 
 Le m^pris Buit de prfes I'amonr 
 Qu'in Spirent les coquettes. 
 Chercnez k vous faire estimer 
 Plus qu'k vous rendre aimable ; 
 Le fanx honnenr de tout charmer 
 D^truit le veritable." 
 
 " I HOPE you had a pleasant afternoon," said Lady Florence. 
 " Will you have another cup of tea ? " 
 
 " Half a cup, please, if it is good still ; you know I don't 
 like hot water. Floss, is the kid safe there ? Won't it bang 
 its head against the fender if it rolls ? " 
 
 "Oh, it's all right. The rug is a capital place for it. I 
 can't manage my breakfast with the little wretch on my knee," 
 said Lady Florence, with a glance at her offspring. 
 
 They were having their usual eleven-o'clock breakfast on 
 tlie day after the militia Gymkhana, and Nicholas was just 
 beginning to think that he was going to escape scot-free. 
 
 The last month had changed Lady Florence a good deal: 
 she had lost her pretty colour and she had become irritable ; 
 the terms upon which she and Nicholas were, were not of the 
 best ; they quarrelled and were reconciled a dozen times a 
 day ; quarrels which Nicholas hated, which he was ready to 
 
A SELF-DENTING OBDINANGE. 215 
 
 do anything to avoid, short of giving up his particular fad for 
 the moment. 
 
 " I hope you had a pleasant afternoon, yesterday," repeated 
 Lady Florence. 
 
 "Yes, thanks. Would you mind passing me an egg'i" 
 said Nicholas, in a most apologetic tone. 
 
 " I had a very pleasant afternoon, too, all alone." 
 
 " There, Floss, drop it, and forgive me like a good girl." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind in the least— not in the very least. You 
 shall do as you like, and I shall do as I like," said Lady 
 Florence. 
 
 Nicholas got up from his chair, and walked up to her with 
 a very grave face. It was in his mind to say to her tliat he 
 was sorry, to say that he would try to be different, that for 
 his part he would be glad to make an effort to draw their lives 
 closer together. He felt that she had more to forgive him 
 than she knew, and the influence of Joanna was still strong 
 upon him. 
 
 But when he laid his hand upon her shoulder and stooped 
 over her, he suddenly drew back with a very different ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "That stuff again," he said with disgust. "I know the 
 room reeks with it, but I was in hopes it was from yes- 
 terday." 
 
 "Well, it is not my fault," said Lady Florence sharply. 
 " I have not been accustomed to live like this without a 
 comfort or a soul to speak to all day long. You go away and 
 leave me to myself from morning till night, and then you are 
 surprised that I am glad to take any way of making the time 
 pass." 
 
 Then she suddenly broke out passionately: "You don't 
 know what it is, Nick, to count minute after minute and think 
 that the day will never pass, and feel that every other day 
 will be the same. And to know that other people— all the 
 people I used to know— are enjoying themselves, as I might 
 be enjoying niyself but for you. Oh, sometimes I feel as if I 
 should go mad ! " 
 
 " We have made an awful mess of it," said Nicholas, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 ^^ " It is all your fault," said Lady Florence, with excitement. 
 " All ! As long as you can manage to make the time pass, 
 what do you care about me ? " 
 
 "Well, look here, Florence, let bygones be bygones," said 
 Nicholas. " Go up to your room and lie down for a bit till 
 you are quite yourself, and then, when you come down, we 
 will do what you like for the rest of the day. I am sorry I 
 left you alone, dear." 
 
 "That might do if I didn't know you quite so well, Nick. 
 
216 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 As far as promises go, you are the most generous man in the 
 world. No, I am going out, for my own amusement, this 
 morning, and as you have finished your breakfast, I am going 
 at once." 
 
 " You are not," said Nicholas; and as she got up, he took a 
 few hasty steps and placed himself in front of the door. 
 
 ' ' This is very amusing, " said Lady Florence. ' ' Are you 
 going to Iceep me as a prisoner to-day ? " 
 
 "Listen to me, Floss," said Nicholas calmly. " You are not 
 quite yourself, and there is no reason why you should want 
 to go out just now. Wait for a few hours, and you shall do 
 as you like. This sort of thing is neither more nor less tlian 
 vulgar." 
 
 "Are you going to let me pass ? " 
 
 " Not at present. Sit down and think it over for a bit; 
 you and I might have an expedition to Derry in the after- 
 noon." 
 
 "That would be exciting I Nick, I am not a child, and I 
 choose to do as I wish." 
 
 " I am not going to argue about the matter any more," said 
 he shortly. 
 
 Whereupon, without another word, he walked out of the 
 room and locked the door after him. 
 
 Then he went to the office and lighted a pipe. 
 
 He would at least keep his shame to himself as long as he 
 could, but how long would that be ? Must not Mrs. Carroll, 
 at least, have recognised something strange about Lady Flor- 
 ence weeks ago ; must not the smell of ether be too familiar 
 to her for possible mistake ? 
 
 Would she not think it very odd to find the dining-room 
 door locked upon her mistress, a discovery which she might 
 make at any minute ? 
 
 Nicholas was in a very black mood this morning, and it 
 seemed to him that everything and everybody in the world 
 were against him. 
 
 He edged his chair impatiently out of the sunshine, which 
 found its way through the window in spite of the little trees 
 outside. 
 
 The very darkest corner of the room seemed most appro- 
 priate to-day. 
 
 He was vexed and angry with himself, and in one of those 
 moods when he seemed to himself a very scoundrel. It was 
 the revulsion from his high spirits of yesterday, when he had 
 been inclined to consider himself a very fine fellow indeed. 
 As long as they remained at the Lodge, matters could only go 
 on getting worse with Lady Florence and himself. 
 
 And yet he owed money to everybody in Ballylone, though 
 only small sums, it was true. He had not paid Carroll any- 
 
A SELF-DENYING OBDINANCE. 217 
 
 thing for some time, and he had a pretty long tailor's bill on 
 
 his hands. .,..,, 
 
 Tliere were some little things unpaid in Derry ever since 
 his last visit, and on his table, even now, lay the bill for some 
 of his presents to Joanna in the days of their engagement, 
 presents which had long ago been sold once more. 
 
 Some time or other, he supposed, all these people would 
 want to be paid. The "Witch " must go, perhaps, but Bene- 
 dict he could not part with. 
 
 And then there was Joanna— Joanna, who he felt ne 
 loved, now she was unattainable, twice as much as he had ever 
 loved her before ; Joanna, who would probably marry that 
 young Kelly, and forget all about Nicholas and be happy. 
 Why had he been such a fool as to throw away his chance of 
 happiness ? Would not the very best thing for him be to end 
 his life, which was of no use to himself or anyone else ? 
 Nicholas amused himself with pictures of his death, and what 
 everybody would say. Joanna would not forget him then — 
 even Lady Florence would regret having made him so miser- 
 able. It would be a dramatic and pleasing end to everything. 
 But in his secret heart he knew very well indeed that he had 
 not the smallest intention of killing himself ; he did not even 
 wish to, and, had he wished it, he knew he had not the courage. 
 
 As he pictured the consternation and dismay of his friends 
 and enemies, there came a tap at the open window, and he 
 looked round to see Lady Florence, free and unabashed. 
 
 " I called in to say good-bye for the present, Nick," she said 
 triumphantly. "You forgot that the dining-room windows 
 were not very far from the ground, my friend." 
 
 Nicholas shrugged his shoulders disgustedly. 
 
 "You had better see to the baby, unless, indeed, you are 
 still determined to keep me by force, in which case I have a 
 good start," said Lady Florence. 
 
 " I am certainly not going to run down the avenue after 
 you," said Nicholas coldly. "Had you not better get a hat ? 
 I shall not interfere with you any more." 
 ■ Not even in his pipe was there any consolation now. But 
 presently he bethought himself that it might indeed be well 
 that he should unlock the dining-room door, and give the baby 
 to Mrs. Carroll. It was lying contentedly on the rug, quite 
 wide awake, a little creature that seemed to have realised 
 already that there would not be much trouble taken for its 
 entertainment in this world. 
 
 Nicholas stood looking down upon it, feeling that here, too, 
 was somebody that would be better out of the way : that was 
 wanted by no one. 
 
 Then the baby held up its arms to him, and smiled in his 
 face. 
 
218 A 8ELF'DENYIN0 ORBINANOB. 
 
 Nicholas had never taken any interest whatever in his child, 
 but now that they two were all alone, he suddenly knelt down 
 on the rug beside it, and let it seize his finger between its two 
 soft, uncei'tain little hands. It was not afraid of him in the 
 least, and yet how easily, he thought, how very easily, he 
 could end the little thing's life for it, and perhaps it might be 
 the greatest kindness lie could do to it. 
 
 What was to become of the child when it should grow to be 
 a woman, a woman without a name or a place in the world ? 
 Was not his wrong toward this baby greater than his wrong 
 toward Joanna or toward Florence ? 
 
 " Wliat a jolly little kid it is ! " he said to himself regret- 
 fully, as the baby made an effort to carry his finger to its 
 mouth, and gave a small gurgle of laughter. 
 
 Then he heard Mrs. Carroll's foot in the passage, and sprang 
 to his feet, flushing hotly. 
 
 ' ' Lady Florence has gone out, Mrs. Carroll, " he said. ' ' Can 
 you take the baby ? " 
 
 And then he escaped, to avoid hearing her objections to hav- 
 ing the child on her hands at that hour of the day, when she 
 w^as particularly busy, and all the children were at school. 
 
 Nicholas almost thought that he would have liked to keep 
 the child in the room with him, but he would not for worlds 
 have admitted this to Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 But when Lady Florence returned in time for lunch, she 
 was very much surprised by his first words, which were : 
 " Florence, shouldn't the child be vaccinated, and christened, 
 and all that sort of thing ? " 
 
 Lady Florence was entirely herself again now, consequently 
 by no means completely pleased with her expedition to the 
 village, and all the more resolved to brazen it out. 
 
 "Well, that is easily arranged," slie said. "I might have 
 spoken to Mr. Jellett this morning if 1 had thought of it. I 
 walked all the way from Ballylone with him I " 
 
 "Did you?" said Nicholas. "You have got your dress 
 rather muddy." 
 
 " It was great fun," said Lady Florence. " Mr. Jellett was 
 so nervous, knowing that he was under the eyes of all his dis- 
 approving parishioners. At last I said ; ' Don't look so uncom- 
 fortable, Mr. Jellett ; I assure you, you are not compromising 
 me in the least. Nick never objects to clergymen,' and the 
 little silly hadn't a word to say in reply." 
 
 " I don't think it particularly funny," said Nicholas gravely. 
 
 " I daresay Mr. Jellett won't think it at all funny before he 
 has heard the last of it, " said Lady Florence. " I am tlie only 
 one with a sense of humour." 
 
 " But, I suppose, he can't refuse to christen the kid," said 
 Nicholas, half to himself. 
 
A BELF-BENTINQ ORDmANOE. 219 
 
 "If you turn out a fond parent on my hands, that will be 
 the funniest thing of all!" said Lady Florence, staring at 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 " Dreamer of dreams born out of time, 
 Why should I strive to set the crooked straight." 
 
 " Why, Joanna, working away still ? I heard you bad left 
 at half -past three." 
 
 " I am glad to see you back again, Edith. I generally leave 
 then, but this head is so fearfully difficult, I wanted to stay 
 till I made the ear right, and Mr. Tesser said I could. Had 
 you a good time in the South ? " 
 
 "A capital time," said Miss Chester. "There were two 
 militias out and lots of men." 
 
 "That must have been Paradise !" said Joanna with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " Very nice men they were too," said Miss Chester. " There 
 was a Captain Everett, but I must tell you about him later on, 
 and show you his photograph. What a pretty head you are 
 carving, Joanna ! " she added, with a decided decrease of in- 
 terest in her tone. 
 
 " It is excruciatingly difficult," said Joanna. " I suppose I 
 must stop," with a few lingering touches, " the time does_^y 
 when I am struggling over this thing. Are you coming home 
 with me, Edith ? " 
 
 "No, but I want you to come to the big polo match with 
 me. It is Belfast against this county, and ought to be awfully 
 exciting." 
 
 "My dear Edith ! I said I would be home for afternoon 
 tea " 
 
 "But you know you are beginning to break free a little, 
 now, '' interposed Miss Chester hastily. 
 
 " And look at my clothes " 
 
 " Why, you have got your best dress on, under that apron, 
 and have I not just heard this moment at McAfee's that your 
 new hat is finished ? It was that put the idea into my head 
 of asking you to come, for I am sure you will never have as 
 good a chance of showing it off. Now don't tell me that two 
 girls can't go alone to the field, for that is nonsense ; besides, 
 when we arrive we can ask somebody to chaperon us, if you 
 are very particular. Pack away those things and come 
 along like good girl." 
 
 Joanna meditated'. She wanted to go to that polo match 
 very much; she had wanted to go ever since last week, when 
 
220 A 8ELF-BENTIN0 ORDINANCE. 
 
 she had known that Nicholas was to play in it, and she had 
 been thankful that there was no chance of having her wishes 
 fulfilled. But was it some vague hope which had made her 
 put on her best dress that day ? She did long so much to see 
 Nicholas ride once more, perhaps to speak to him, in a place 
 where every word and look was not so sure to be noticed and 
 commented upon, as at Ballylone festivities. 
 
 The temptation was too great. 
 
 " Well, Edith, I will go," she said. 
 
 "I thought you were getting sporting !" said Miss Chester, 
 highly delighted. ' ' It looked hopeful to hear that you had got 
 into trouble with the mother. Are you no better than the 
 rest of us after all, my particular Joanna ? " 
 
 "If you go on like that, I shall most undoubtedly stay at 
 home,' returned Joanna shortly. 
 
 "Very well, I won't say another word. You ought to see 
 Captain Everett ride ! I wish he was here.'' 
 
 " Your geese are all swans, Edith," said Joanna, as she 
 took off her apron. 
 
 And then they went to McAfee's to get her new hat, which. 
 Miss Chester declared, suited her to perfection, though she 
 would hardly allow her time to put it on. 
 
 Joanna was unusually fidgety about her appearance, though 
 if she had known it, excitement and an unreasonable sort of 
 happiness were the most becoming things of all. 
 
 There were a good many people on the polo ground; all 
 Derry had turned up, and a few stray people had accompanied 
 their champions from Belfast. 
 
 Nicholas' ponies were of course not his own ; he had been 
 mounted for the occasion, and was at a slight disadvantage in 
 consequence, which was more than made up for by his superior 
 practice and science. He had played in his day with the 
 very best polo players in England or elsewhere, with men 
 whose sole idea of play did not lie in managing to "get a hit 
 at the ball," as he had said to Joanna once. 
 
 Lady Florence was there too, in the daintiest of dresses, 
 after a sharp tussle with Nicholas, in which she had proved 
 victorious. 
 
 She was the centre of a group of men, standing near the 
 refreshment table, laughing and talking loudly, and trying to 
 forget that her presence there was already coming home to her 
 as a mistake. 
 
 She had bowed to Lady Evesham, the only woman present 
 she knew, and she had received in return a cut direct, a cut 
 before everybody, and visible to everybody; and now she 
 felt herself as something apart from the rest, and could not be 
 content even with the men who surrounded her, who weredull, 
 familiar, and not such as she had been accustomed to meet. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANGE. 221 
 
 But she only laughed and talked the more, and did not de- 
 cline the champagne they offered her. 
 
 The attention of all the ladies on the ground was distracted 
 from the match. Tliey looked at her and discussed matters 
 among themselves. , . , i j 
 
 "How does the creature dare to come here? said somebody. 
 
 " She is painted up to her eyes, I can see that plamly,' said 
 somebody else, which was absolutely unfounded on fact. 
 
 "Slie is drinking too much, what is more. That horrid 
 young Loder is filling her glass again and again." 
 
 ' ' What a disgraceful sight ! " 
 
 "Joanna," said Miss Chester, "will you come and walk past 
 Lady Florence slowly ? I want to see her close." 
 
 " I will not— I will not ! " cried Joanna. "How can you— 
 how can they all— look at the wretched woman as a sight— a 
 spectacle ? I will not walk past to stare at her." 
 
 "Oh, all right ; only you might say it in fewer words. 
 There, that quarter is over." 
 
 But Joanna would not look up ; she was afraid to face the 
 shame in Nicholas' eyes. She was so sorry for him, so very, 
 very sorry. 
 
 He did not come up to speak to her. He walked over to the 
 refreshment table, had a glass of something, and apparently 
 spoke a few words to Lady Florence. Then he shrugged his 
 shoulders, and went back to mount again. 
 
 As he rode out past Joanna their eyes met for one moment. 
 
 She was full of a hot indignation against the men who were 
 round Lady Florence, amusing themselves with her disgrace. 
 All her interest in the game was gone, and she would have 
 given worlds for courage to go up to Lady Florence herself. 
 But what good could she do ? 
 
 By the time the next quarter was over, the men round Lady 
 Florence had thinned a good deal ; such amusement might be 
 carried a little too far, they recognised, and went to detail 
 amusing things she had said among the crowd. 
 
 This time Nicholas gave his pony to a groom, and walked 
 straight up to Joanna, hot and dirty as he was. 
 
 He gave her no greeting at all. He only said in a low voice : 
 " My God, this is awful— what can I do ? " 
 
 " Can I do anytiiing ? " said Joanna. 
 
 " If you could get her'to go home— but no, I shouldn't mix 
 you up in such a thing." 
 
 "I will try," said Joanna. 
 
 "There will be two more quarters, and I must stay," said 
 Nicholas. 
 
 He knew very well that he had no right to draw Joanna into 
 his concerns, even as he spoke. 
 
 "I shouldn't let you have anything to say to it," he said. 
 15 
 
222 A SELF-BENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 "I believe she would go readily enough if she had an excuse. 
 No, Joanna, I won't let you do it." 
 
 "I shall manage it, dear, trust me," said Joanna quietly. 
 
 Courage to face two or three unknown young men ? — she 
 had courage to face a regiment now, and with all the misery 
 of it she could not control an immense happiness ; Nicholas 
 had trusted her unhesitatingly ; he had known that he might 
 depend upon her to do all she could. She was absolutely 
 grateful to him. 
 
 She did not ask Miss Chester to go with her. She knew 
 that it would have been of no use, and, besides, she felt she had 
 no right to drag her into the matter. She did not stop to 
 think what everybody there would say and imagine about 
 her; she walked steadily over to Lady Florence, considering 
 only how she could best gain her purpose. 
 
 Lady Florence was glad to see her, very glad. She was 
 not too much excited to recognise her position, and the sup- 
 port there was in this girl, of whom she thought so little. 
 
 " Lady Florence," said Joanna, weighing every word, " the 
 best of the match is over, and I promised to be at home early. 
 Sir Nicholas said that perhaps you would see me home, as my 
 people do not like me to go alone." 
 
 Lady Florence hesitated; even the few remaining men had 
 more or less melted away, and if Joanna left her, there was 
 every chance of her finding herself alone. 
 
 "You are in a great hurry," she said, in a voice which 
 was slightly unsteady. "Why should we go before all the 
 rest ? " 
 
 " I must go now," said Joanna. 
 
 " Well, then, I suppose I must be good-natured," said Lady 
 Florence. " I don't know that I care much to stay, after all." 
 
 She understood perfectly well all the time that it was for her 
 sake, not Joanna's, that they were to go, but not even to her- 
 self would she admit it. 
 
 She walked slowly, very slowly, past the curious crowd, talk- 
 ing to Joanna of Lady Hilda, of Merevale, with defiant gaiety. 
 None of them should think they had driven her away. 
 
 But the general interest was largely transferred from her to 
 her companion. 
 
 As they passed Miss Chester, she sprang forward and 
 caught Joanna's arm, with a face of dismay. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this, Joanna ? " she said. "Do 
 you want to have yourself talked about all over the county? " 
 
 " I can't help it," said Joanna, and she passed on. 
 
 At Merevale she had been rather afraid of Lady Florence, 
 but now she was not afraid of her at all, not even when they 
 reached the station and her charge grumbled not a little to 
 find they had an hour to wait for the train. 
 
A SELF.BENTING OBDINANCE. 223 
 
 Lady Florence had been very much excited at first, but she 
 soon calmed down and fell,asleep on the waiting-room sofa. 
 
 Joanna got a seat just outside, and sat there very quietly, 
 and without any impatience. The exaltation, the joy of hav- 
 ing been able to do something for Nicholas, of having been 
 appealed to unhesitatingly by him, was too recent to leave 
 room for any other feelings. Just then she did not care in 
 the least what people said or thought of her. 
 
 Nicholas and Miss Chester were both in time for the 
 train. 
 
 He did not say anything to thank Joanna; indeed the only 
 words that passed between them were hers, when she told him 
 where Lady Florence was. 
 
 She and Miss Chester were travelling second class, and they 
 saw no more of the other two till they reached Ballylone. 
 
 There were plenty of other people in the carriage, and all 
 Miss Chester had a chance of saying was : " You are a quix- 
 otic little fool," which annoyed Joanna exceedingly. 
 
 She was rather proud of her common sense, and she knew 
 she was not quixotic — except where Nicholas was concerned. 
 
 She did not want to walk with Miss Chester, and she did 
 not want to see Nicholas and Lady Florence again, so she 
 hung back, and waited till everybody else had left the station. 
 
 But she came out to find Nicholas waiting for her. 
 
 "The dog-cart had come to meet us," he said, " so I sent 
 her up. I couldn't go myself, without saying to you how 
 very, very grateful I am." 
 
 His words came very fast, and he stammered and pulled at 
 his moustache, but it did not seem to occur to him that he 
 could have shown his gratitude better by giving no further 
 opportunity for gossip about this girl he had already injured 
 so much. 
 
 Joanna knew very well that it would have been better for 
 her to have walked home alone, but how could she hurt him 
 more on this day when he had had so much to hurt him, when 
 he so evidently wanted comfort ? 
 
 Nicholas was very much excited. 
 
 "Joanna," he said, "I can't stand it any longer. My life 
 is like hell. It is not the first, nor the second time that that 
 has happened." 
 
 "You must go away," said Joanna very gravely. " To me 
 that seems the only thing to be done." 
 
 "Go away ! Joanna, you know I would not have come 
 here if I could have helped it, but now I can't go away. Tell 
 me, when a woman acts like that, don't. you think she cuts all 
 bonds of honour? You know there are no legal bonds 
 between us. Darling, is it possible you could forgive me ? " 
 
 They were in the "loanan" now, going up the short out 
 
224 A 8ELF-DENTma OBDINANCE. 
 
 with slackening steps, and at his hasty words Joanna came to 
 a full stop. 
 
 " Dear Nicholas," she said, "I must speak out to you for 
 once. If there was nothing to separate us, and there is, 
 much — nothing could ever be the same as it once was— 
 nothing could ever be the same again." 
 
 " But it could " Nicholas cried, eagerly catching her 
 
 hand. " Only that I should love you more — more than ever 
 before." 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to vex you," said Joanna, "or to hurt 
 you. But dear, there is this between us at least — loss of trust. 
 I could never trust you again, not if I spent my whole life in 
 trying to learn." 
 
 " You are very cruel," said Nicholas, with his voice full of 
 pain. 
 
 " Oh, Nicholas, I can't bear to hurt you ! " said Joanna. 
 
 "Don't you love me any longer ? " 
 
 " I do love you, I do love you, dear, but what I have said 
 had to be said once ; we will never speak of it again. I want 
 you to be brave, Nicholas, and to face life." 
 ' And to herself she was saying : " Oh, I wish I could bear it 
 for him." She knew well she was the stronger of the two. 
 . "And yet, you won't give me the only help you can," said 
 he reproachfully. 
 
 " You must help yourself," said Joanna. " Nicholas, I can't 
 bear you to be content to settle down here, and scrape along 
 for the rest of your life doing nothing. It is not like a man ; 
 it is like a coward to be beaten so easily ! " 
 
 " You may say what you like to me, of course," said Nicho- 
 las, " but you don't understand the diflSculties." 
 
 " I would conquer them, at any rate," said Joanna. " You 
 know, Nicholas, tiiat it is only to you I would allow that you 
 are not perfect. You aren't vexed with me for speaking out 
 plainly ? " 
 
 " I am thankful— I am grateful," said Nicholas, but he was 
 a little annoyed all the same. 
 
 " Then if I was free, it would be no use ? " he said. 
 
 "You are not free," said Joanna. "Nicholas, I see we 
 can't hope to meet as friends yet; we can't feel that things 
 are not as they were between us." 
 
 " Oh, don't say that ; I can ! I promise I will." 
 
 "At least I cannot," said Joanna sadly. "Nicholas, ITcnow 
 that it has been wrong for me to let you speak to me as you 
 have spoken to-day, but I can't feel it, and so we must say 
 good-bye." 
 
 At the end of the lane they parted in silence. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 225 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 "Yet this turns now to a fault— there ! there 1 
 That I do love, watch too long, 
 And wait too well, and weary and wear ; 
 And 'tis all an old story, and my despair 
 Fit subject for some new song." 
 
 The blow which Joanna had been expecting, ever since the 
 polo match, fell on the evening of the next day. 
 
 She was giving Polly her drawing lesson, when the servant 
 came to say that her father wanted to speak to her in the din- 
 ing-room. 
 
 She lingered over the little girl for a mmute. 
 
 " Give me a good kiss, dear," she said wistfully, and Polly, 
 who had had an instinct all day that something was wrong, 
 flung her arms round Joanna's neck, and hugged her closely. 
 
 Then Joanna walked slowly out of the room. 
 
 Both her father and mother were in the dining-room, but 
 Mrs. Conway got up and walked towards the door as she 
 came in. Joanna had often seen her mother angry, but she 
 had never seen her face drawn and white with passion as 
 now. 
 
 "Joanna," she said, and her words came with difBculty, 
 " for myself, I cannot speak to you. I am sorry you are my 
 daughter. I leave you to your father. I never thought you 
 would bring disgrace upon your family." 
 
 Her words came in short, abrupt sentences, but when 
 Joanna would have spoken she waved her hand for silence. 
 
 " Not a word ! " she said. " Not a word in my presence ! " 
 
 But it was with an immense relief that Joanna found her- 
 self left with her father. 
 
 He said nothing till his wife had left the room ; he stood 
 silently by the window with bent head, and a look of utter 
 depression which cut her to the heart. 
 
 " I don't know what to say to you," he said, with a heavy 
 sigh. " When a girl has acted as you have done, there is very 
 little use in speaking to her. The only possible defence you 
 could make would be to deny the whole thing." 
 
 "Will you tell me what you have heard ?" said Joanna. 
 As a rule the excessive anger of her family made her think 
 less instead of more of any wrong she had done, but in this 
 case she was not sure of her position. Everybody seemed to 
 be against her. Was her point of view totally -wrong ? 
 
 "I have heard this: that on the day of that militia affair, 
 you spent the afternoon in the woods with Sir Nicholas 
 OsborneT that yesterday, instead of coming home after your 
 
226 A 8ELF-I)ENYIN& ORDINANCE. 
 
 carving class, you went to meet him at the polo field in Derry ; 
 and came home with him, and, besides that, God knows how 
 often you may have met him, or whether you ever have been 
 to the carving class at all " 
 
 "Father ! " cried Joanna. 
 
 "Well, can you wonder that I can't trust you now ? I who 
 never for one instant doubted you before." 
 
 "Father," said Joanna, " it is not all true, but it is so hard 
 to make it clear. I did not go to the polo match yesterday to 
 meet him, and I have only seen him twice " 
 
 "What is the good of distinguishing the particular shades 
 of your shame?" said Mr. Conway passionately. "It is 
 enough for me that you have spoken to a man you ought 
 not to allow to approach you, much less to speak to you. 
 Have you no pride or self-respect ? " 
 
 Then, with all her reserve, Joanna for once spoke out, 
 helped by a sudden anger at his words. 
 
 " Father," she said, " will you listen to me ? When Nicho- 
 las first asked me to marry him I did not care very much. I 
 was just a child, and it amused me and flattered me. I 
 thought I should like to be married before the other girls at 
 school 1 " she said, with a hard little laugh. " But then, little 
 by little it became difTerent. We were together every day, 
 and I was to be his wife and everything I did and thought 
 and cared for was for him. There was never a minute of the 
 day that I did not think of him, and there wasn't a thought 
 or a hope or a prayer without his name. He came in my 
 heart before God in heaven, and I never even dreamt of the 
 possibility of life without him ! " 
 
 Joanna's desperate earnestness and passion silenced her 
 father. 
 
 She went on with hardly a pause. 
 
 "Then all at once — all in a minute, what had been right 
 before became wrong. All at once Nicholas was to be noth- 
 ing to me. It was improper and wrong for me to think or 
 care. Well, it had to be borne, and I did my best, didn't I, 
 father ? I did try to be the same as before." 
 
 Mr. Conway was touched in spite of himself, and his face 
 softened. 
 
 " You ask, have I no pride, but it nearly killed me to think 
 that everybody knew, and I tried always to make them think 
 that I did not care, and I believe sometimes even you thought 
 so, father. At first it was not so bad, but it was later on, 
 when you thought I was getting over it, that it was worst. 
 It seemed as if I couldn't bear to go on living, and — oh, father, 
 this is worst of all — my heart is breaking ! " 
 
 Joanna all at once turned so very white that Mr. Con- 
 way instinctively put out his hand to steady her. She was 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 227 
 
 not in the habit of fainting or ailing in any way, and he was 
 frightened. 
 
 He put lier in a chair, and got her a glass of water, and the 
 colour came back to her face very quickly, but he could not 
 speak to her again with the same hardness. 
 
 " But everything you have told me," he said, " only makes 
 it more certain that you ought not to have spoken to him." 
 
 "He has nobody else," said Joanna, in a low voice. "I 
 thought we could be friends. Whatever happens, he is like 
 no otiier man to me, and it is only a year since he was every- 
 thing. I was so sorry for him, and I thought perhaps I could 
 help him " 
 
 " Help him ! how could you help him ? And as for friend- 
 ship — rubbish ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Joanna, "I found that was a mistake. But, 
 father, could I turn away, when I thought a word would per- 
 haps help him ? " 
 
 "Nonsense! how could a word from you help him? He 
 deserves nothing but contempt at your hands. You should 
 have left him to his Lady Florence, for whom he threw you 
 over. No, Joanna, I am very soriy for you, but you have 
 acted very wrongly and foolishly, and you may be sure you 
 have lowered yourself in his mind, too. And as for your 
 mother ! " 
 
 Words failed him to express Mrs. Conway's feelings. 
 
 "I suppose mother will never forgive me, nor you either," 
 said Joanna wearily. 
 
 "Oh, I don't say that, child," said Mr. Conway, with some 
 discomfort, " but there must be no more of this kind of thing. 
 I am sorry for you, though I must say I thought better of 
 you, and, of course, I can't answer for your mother." 
 
 Joanna felt the reconciliation was not worth much. 
 
 Then a very miserable week began for her. Mr. Conway 
 was cold and displeased ; her mother would not speak to her, 
 and to mark her displeasui-e, for the first time for years she 
 addressed Elizabeth. 
 
 Elizabeth, triumphant at her return to favour, showed her 
 anger with Joanna very plainly, arid Polly, who was full of 
 sympathy, was not allowed to speak to her aunt, lest she 
 should be corrupted. 
 
 Out of. doors things were not much better ; Mrs. Chester, 
 Mrs. Moreland, and Miss Clarke were one and all scandalised, 
 and the whole village knew of Joanna's doings. 
 
 Even Mrs. FitzHerbert, who had been so kind to her, wrote 
 I'ather a cold letter in return for the carving which Joanna 
 had sent her, or at least she thought so ; but whether this was 
 imagination or not, she certainly omitted to ask Joanna to go 
 to see her. 
 
228 A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 Mr. Conway had stopped the carving lessons. He said that 
 somebody could not be spared to go with Joanna each time, 
 and she certainly could not be trusted alone. If she went 
 even outside the gates, she was expected to say where she had 
 been. 
 
 It did not seem to occur to her family that this was the very 
 way to drive her to thoughts of Nicholas. 
 
 But these thoughts were worst of all ; was it possible that 
 her father was right, and that she had lowered herself in his 
 estimation ? 
 
 Joanna did not believe it, but inconsistently the thought 
 made her miserable all the same. 
 
 One day she had been down to the post-office with a tele- 
 gram for her father. She had sent it off, and she was return- 
 ing with depressed steps to Cliff House ; she was too depressed 
 even too look round when she heard wheels behind her, till 
 she was suddenly startled by a shout. 
 
 "Stop ! stop !" cried somebody, in a voice that was very 
 familiar to Joanna's ears, and without waiting for the car to 
 pull up entirely, somehow or other Lady Hilda West was in 
 the street beside her. 
 
 "I said I would come to see you some day! " said Lady 
 Hilda. 
 
 And though they were in front of McCracken's shop, with 
 half the village staring at the newcomer, Joanna flung her 
 arms round Lady Hilda's neck, with a choking sob. 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, I am so glad to see you — what a comfort ! 
 Now everything will go right," she cried. 
 
 She had not had the least idea how glad she would be 
 to see the girl again; the relief in her own voice surprised 
 her. 
 
 It surprised Lady Hilda too, and touched her as well. 
 
 "My dear Jo, you flatter me," she said, with a shaky little 
 laugh. 
 
 "Oh, I like to hear you call me that again," said Joanna 
 eagerly. "Oh, Hilda, is it really you ? I can't believe it." 
 
 "My dear, it is me," said Lady Hilda grammatically, "as 
 large as life and twice as beautiful. Can you guide me to 
 my destination, if I let this vehicle go on with my be- 
 longings ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Joanna. " Eoddy, you are to drive on to 
 the Lodge." 
 
 "Let me get out my umbrella fir.st," said Lady Hilda. 
 "The last piece of advice I got before I left England was 
 never to let myself be beguiled two steps from shelter without 
 an umbrella. Does the man know his way ? " 
 
 " Is it the way to the Lodge, you mean '< " said Roddy, in 
 high contempt, and without further parley he drove away. 
 
A SELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 229 
 
 Then Hilda and Joanna looked at each other, and laughed 
 for the very pleasure of meeting. 
 
 "My little Jo," said Lady Hilda, " you have grown into a 
 woman. Are you surprised to see me ? " j , • j 
 
 " I am surprised, but I am glad— oh, I am so glad ! ' said 
 Joanna. "Everything is so miserable and in such a mess." 
 
 "I don't think I am the best person in the world to bring 
 order out of chaos," said Lady Hilda. " Do you know, this 
 is an entirely unauthorized proceeding on my part, against 
 the advice of my best friends. I got a letter from Florence, 
 forwarded after me from place to place in Norway, and I only 
 got back to England on Tuesday. I saw Meredyth the day 
 before yesterday, at a cricket match at Lord's ; it was a 
 guards' match, and the Campbell twins were playing." 
 
 "Oh," said Joanna, drawing a long breath, "you make me 
 feel as if I were back at Merevale ! " 
 
 "Do you remember somebody else at Merevale, Joanna? 
 What would you think if I were to marry Lord Dawley ? " 
 
 "You have threatened me with that so long that I am 
 beginning to be less frightened," said Joanna. 
 
 " Long threatened, comes at last," said Lady Hilda, laugh- 
 ing. "Isn't it remarkable to hear me quoting proverbs? 
 Well, I expect we shall be married, unless, indeed, this little 
 expedition shocks my future lord and master too much. My 
 dear Jo, when I read that girls remain unmarried in the pro- 
 portion of three to four for want of ever a man to marry 
 them, I reflect that I mustn't be too particular. A nice young 
 man, heir to a dukedom, with goodness knows how many 
 thousands a year, is not to be sneezed at in these bad times. 
 There ! that is one of the nice expressions I picked up from a 
 charming man who sat next me at the table-d'hote in one of 
 the hotels in Norway. He was a commercial traveller, and 
 we got quite intimate. He must have thought me intelligent, 
 too, for he asked me if my father was in the business. Dawley 
 was awfully shocked. Tou know he went in his yacht ? " 
 
 Lady Hilda had talked rapidly to get away from the subject 
 of Lord Dawley and matrimony, and then inconsistently 
 returned to it at the end. 
 
 But Joanna, who was not quite sure that she was serious, 
 said no more about it just then. 
 
 They parted at the Lodge gate, with a promise from Lady 
 Hilda to come and see Joanna next day, and the world seemed 
 much more cheerful than it had been an hour ago. 
 
230 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 ' ' Love in a hut, with water and a cmst, 
 Is — love, forgive ua ! — cinders, ashes, dust." 
 
 "Hilda!" cried Lady Florence. "Good gracious me, 
 why didn't you say you were coming ? I couldn't imagine 
 who the luggage at the door belonged to ! " 
 
 " I did think of telegraphing," said Hilda calmly. " Ugh, 
 how this room smells of something — ether, is it ? Can't the 
 luggage come in ? I am here on your own invitation, 
 Florence, which followed me to Norway." 
 
 " What in the world am I to do ? " cried Lady Florence, 
 still in consternation. " There's neither a bed nor a bath for 
 you ! " 
 
 Hilda burst out laughing. 
 
 " Nor a place for your maid " 
 
 " I haven't brought one," said Hilda, " and as for a bed, a 
 mattress will do. I should like a bath, certainly, but I dare- 
 say it can be managed." 
 
 "I don't see how, I am sure," said Lady Florence helplessly. 
 
 " Well, at present I only want something to eat," said Lady 
 Hilda. "I am half -starving." 
 
 "I don't think there is anything in the house but part of a 
 leg of cold mutton." 
 
 Her sister opened her eyes very wide, but she only said : 
 "Well, I'm not particular; I rather like cold mutton. 
 Hullo ! Nick, how are you ? " 
 
 "Hilda ! " cried Nicholas, gazing at her with dismay. 
 
 "Well, neither of you seem very pleased to see me," said 
 Hilda placidly, "which doesn't embarrass me so much as it 
 might have done if I hadn't come on Florence's particular 
 invitation. Nick, I can't go back to-night, so can somebody 
 bring in my belongings, and would you pay the car-man 
 for me ? " 
 
 "I am afraid I haven't got any — change," said Nicholas, 
 turning red. 
 
 "Which means that there isn't any money in the house," 
 said Lady Florence. " He came home from Derry last night 
 without a shilling in his pocket." 
 
 Nicholas said nothing, but he gave Lady Florence a look 
 which silenced her. 
 
 "Oh, I have got lots of change," said Lady Hilda hastily. 
 " It was sheer laziness, because my pocket is so hard to get at 
 in this dress." 
 
 Nicholas followed her as she hurried into the little hall, and 
 took out her purse. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 231 
 
 " Hilda," he said, " this is not the place for you. " 
 
 "Nick," she said, " somehow I don't think you are the right 
 
 person to say so." , , , , , , i i • i 
 
 Then she turned to the driver, and had her box brought into 
 the hall, which it nearly filled. 
 
 "You don't know everything, "said Nicholas, with a sigh; 
 "but you will very soon." „, ,. . 
 
 "I have always been wonderfully capable of taking care ot 
 myself, my good Nick," said Lady Hilda. 
 
 Then they went back to the office. 
 
 " What about that mutton bone, Florence ? " she began, and 
 then the entrance of Mrs. Carroll with the baby startled her 
 beyond measure. , • i. i 
 
 Here was an entirely new complication of which she had 
 heard nothing. 
 
 She stared at the baby, she put up her eyeglass and sur- 
 veyed it with a perturbed face. 
 
 Was this little creature to put an end to all her half-formed 
 plans and'ideas ? Could anything ever be forgotten or ignored 
 now, with this child as a sign of what had been ? " 
 
 When Mrs. Carroll had been given her instructions about 
 the cold mutton, and had left the room, she turned to her 
 sister with a face of unconcealed dismay. 
 
 " Didn't you know ? " Lady Florence said, flushing faintly. 
 
 " You never told me ; you never said anything in your 
 letter." 
 
 " Well. I am sure I meant to tell you— I thought I had told 
 you," said Lady Florence, rather sharply. "But the fact of 
 the matter is, t was so worried when I wrote to you that I 
 hardly knew what I was saying." 
 
 For the time Hilda said no more. They talked of common- 
 places, of mutual friends, of Hilda's Norwegian trip, of her 
 engagement to Lord Dawley, keeping off awkward topics by 
 general consent. 
 
 But when the two sisters found themselves alone upstairs, 
 this could not go on. 
 
 "This is our room," said Lady Florence. "You had 
 better come in here to take oflf your hat, for the one you are 
 to sleep in is not ready. Nick has been using it as his dress- 
 ing room, and I am sure I don't know what he will do now." 
 
 " Look here, Florence, did you not want me to come after 
 all ? You don't seem particularly glad to see me." 
 
 " I did want you to come, as much as I can want to see any- 
 body in this hole. Hilda, it is awful," said Lady Florence, 
 throwing herself dejectedly upon the bed ; " the short and the 
 long of it is, I can't bear it ! Do you think there is any 
 chance — the smallest — the remotest — that James would be 
 kind ? I would go on my knees to him if I thought it would 
 
232 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 be of any use. I would agree to stay in Northumberland half 
 the year If he liked." 
 
 "Come into my room," said Lady Hilda. She was not a 
 person of particularly delicate susceptibilities, and she prided 
 herself on calling a spade a spade, but to sit there and telk of 
 Lady Florence's return to her husband was more than she 
 could stand. 
 
 The room intended for her was crammed with trunks and 
 portmanteaus, with a small space which Nicholas had used to 
 dress in, and a big glass, which he had bought in Derry, fill- 
 ing up a corner. There were signs of his presence here, too ; 
 his shaving apparatus, his hair-brushes, and an array of boots 
 of all kinds, but there was no sign of a bed, and no room at all 
 for one, and Hilda's prospects for the night looked rather 
 questionable. 
 
 But Lady Florence was much too full of her own troubles 
 to disturb hereelf about anything else just then. 
 
 She seated herself upon a convenient, but rather dusty, 
 trunk, and continued her lament. 
 
 "I think James has treated me very badly," she said, " and 
 it is his duty to do something for me. Hilda, you can have no 
 idea of the miseries of life here ; one can hardly even get 
 common necessaries — and the dulness ! It is all very well for 
 Nick, he goes out and amuses himself ; but if you don't do 
 something for me, Hilda, I don't know what I shall do — I 
 shall go mad, or kill myself." 
 
 "It doesn't strike me as a fancy abode certainly," said Lady 
 Hilda calmly, " but, Florence, though I am always against hit- 
 ting a fellow when he is down, I must remind you that under 
 any circumstances there would be some difficulties about your 
 going into society just at present." 
 
 "Which is no reason that I should live like a savage," said 
 Lady Florence sullenly. ' ' As for Nicholas, he is so completely 
 selfish that he never troubles his head about me. Hilda, have 
 you no pity ? Will you go to James and tell him that he 
 has treated me cruelly, but that I am willing to go back to 
 him ? " 
 
 "I don't exactly see my way to doing that at present," said 
 Lady Hilda. 
 
 Lady Florence burst into tears. 
 
 "You are just like the rest!" she said. "Tou don't care 
 what becomes of me, or how miserable I am." 
 
 "Tou see, you care so very much yourself," said Lady 
 Hilda. " But after all, Florence, I haven't come here to make 
 myself disagreeable, and I will certainly do whatever I can 
 for you. Will you let me think it over till to-morrow, and 
 we will try and have a pleasant evening and forget our 
 troubles to-night ? ' 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 233 
 
 But this was not Lady Florence's idea at all ; having se- 
 cured a fresh listener for her woes, she was comparatively 
 happy, and everything was retailed for Hilda s benefit before 
 they went downstairs. . , . j. j u+f„i 
 
 But it was not till next morning, after a night of doubtful 
 comfort on a little stretcher, which had somehow been 
 squeezed in among the trunks, that she and Nicholas were 
 alone together. . , , , , , ii,„„„ 
 
 Hilda had had no temptation to remain in bed late ; there 
 were not even shutters to her window, and the sun had crept 
 in through the thin blind and waked her up. 
 
 When Nicholas came in from an early visit to the stables, 
 he found her with a large kitchen apron over her dress, and 
 Mrs. Carroll's broom, busily engaged in sweeping out the 
 
 office. , . , .ii 1 u 
 
 " I didn't mean you to catch me," she said, with a laugh, 
 " but I simply can't stand dust, and Florence and Mrs. Carroll 
 don't seem to share my aversion." 
 
 " Give the thing to me," said Nicholas, not looking particu- 
 larly well pleased. ., T 1 TT-IJ 
 
 "Indeed, I shall do no such thing," said Lady Hilda 
 briskly. ' ' Why, I have only just finished scattering tea-leaves, 
 under Mrs. Carroll's instructions, and I am beginning to enjoy 
 myself. Give me a cigarette, instead , and get out of my way. " 
 
 Whereupon Nicholas swung himself onto a table and 
 watched her in silence, and Hilda swept on, and declined to 
 take any notice of him. 
 
 They had known each other for a good many years, and 
 there had always been a half-ohafiing flirtation between 
 them, which would probably have continued undisturb,ed had 
 he been genuinely her brother-in-law, but as it was, it had 
 been replaced by a decided awkwardness and difficulty. 
 
 Hilda prided herself on judging nobody; as far as her 
 sister was concerned, in her secret heart she believed that if it 
 had not been Nicholas, it would have been somebody else. 
 
 She had a half -contemptuous liking for him still ; he was no 
 worse, she considered, than other men, always excepting one 
 only, and he certainly looked very handsome and young and 
 pleasant. 
 
 He was much less at his ease. Would Hilda say dis- 
 agreeable things to him ; would she not feel herself bound 
 to say disagreeable things ? 
 
 "Hilda," he said, at last, to break the silence, which was 
 more embarrassing to him than to her, as he had nothing to 
 do, " what are you going to do now ? " 
 
 "After I have finished sweeping, Mrs. Carroll informs 
 me, breakfast will be ready, so I contemplate pouring out your 
 tea." 
 
234 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " I don't mean that at all," said Nicholas. " I mean, have 
 you any message, or any arrangement to propose ? " 
 
 "I have no message," said Lady Hilda gravely; "and as 
 to arrangements, why, all that depends upon what you and 
 Florence decide." 
 
 " Nothing can make matters worse than they are at pres- 
 ent," said Nicholas gloomily. " If anything can he arranged 
 about a divorce, of course I am ready to marry Florence if 
 she wishes, but she says she can't stand living here, and for 
 that matter, it is enough to drive anyone mad." 
 
 "I don't know what is to be done," said Lady Hilda, ceasing 
 to brush. "I will take Florence back with me if she wishes, 
 but if I do, there will certainly be the devil to pay as far as 
 Dawley is concerned." 
 
 "You had better not mix yourself up in it, Hilda," said 
 Nicholas. " We have made an awful mess of it, but we can't 
 go back, either of us, and as far as I can see, the only thing 
 left for us is to try and slide along as comfortably as we can." 
 
 " That is what you have tried to do all your life, Nick," 
 said Lady Hilda, " and I can't see that you have made much 
 of it." 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 " They were so queer, so very queer, 
 I langhed as I would die." 
 
 Joanna was in the garden when Lady Hilda came to her. 
 
 Her carving had gone very badly that morning, and she 
 had come out to see if a little fresh air would steady her hand 
 and her head. 
 
 What was going on at the Lodge ? Were Nicholas and 
 Lady Florence to be married at last ? And if they were, what 
 hope was there for him with a woman like that for his wife ? 
 But after all, was she worse than any of the others ? Joanna, 
 with her one experience of country house life, was quite in- 
 clined to agree with Lady Jeune in her sweeping denuncia- 
 tion of modern society. 
 
 But it was she, she herself, that Nicholas loved, and know- 
 ing this, nothing seemed the same. 
 
 It was a knowledge which ought not to have made her glad, 
 and she religiously did her best to believe that it did not. 
 
 But for once she allowed herself to sit in the seat where she 
 and Nicholas had sat the first time they were together in the 
 garden, and many a time afterwards, and to think of him. 
 At home they were all angry with her, and meeting Lady 
 Hilda had brought b?ck old times so vividly. 
 
"l~mZT^ENYmG OBDINANCE. 235 
 
 But the bitterness of it all was beginning to overcome eyerj 
 other feeling by the time Lady Hilda came, with her loud 
 cheerful voice and her bright face. 
 
 " I discovered this young woman on the steps and insisted 
 upon her guiding me here," said Lady Hilda, producing Polly, 
 who looked very conscious of a dirty pinafore and holes in her 
 stockings; " and she tells me she is the celebrated Polly of 
 wliom I heard so much at Merevale." 
 
 "And a nice vision she is," said Joanna rather sharply, as 
 was not unnatural, considering she had spent twenty minutes 
 mending that identical pair of stockings the night before. 
 "Polly, get out of my sight — you have been climbing again." 
 
 Upon which Polly obediently vanished. 
 
 "Well, Jo, I have had a very exciting night of it," said 
 Hilda clieerfully; "having spent it upon a rather eccentric 
 spring bed, which collapsed whenever I went to sleep. You 
 haven't taken to cigarettes yet, have you ? I smoke all day 
 long since I went to Norway, and Dawley gave me this case 
 the other day — isn't it a pretty one ? Gold and no mistake 
 about it." 
 
 "Then you are really going to marry Lord Dawley ? " said 
 Joanna. 
 
 "Eeallylam," said Hilda calmly. "His mother has the 
 most lovely diamonds, but that wouldn't tempt me. It's the 
 yacht and the best shooting in Scotland, not to speak of my 
 future lord and master's pretty pink face." 
 
 " I hope you will be happy. Oh, Hilda, I do hope you will 
 be happy ! " 
 
 " You don't seem to think it is likely, but then you were 
 always prejudiced against Dawley. Do you remember ' Ab- 
 sent yet Present ' at the Merevale concert ? " 
 
 In the middle of reminiscences of Merevale Joanna began 
 to be troubled with thoughts of lunch. Did Lady Hilda 
 intend to stay, and if so, wliat was there for her to eat ? 
 Though lunch at the Cliff House was in fact eai-ly dinner, it 
 was not apt to be very luxurious, and guests did not drop in 
 uninvited. 
 
 Had Polly told Mrs. Conway that a visitor was there, and 
 even if she had, would Mrs. Conway be willing to have Lady 
 Florence Delacque's sister at her table ? 
 
 At last Lady Hilda came round to speak of the Lodge and her 
 sister with some hesitation. 
 
 " Florence is a most extraordinary person, "she said. " I do 
 wrong things often enough, but when I do, I know they are 
 wrong, and am either ashamed of myself or determined to 
 brazen it out. But she is neither one thing nor the other • 
 she IS evidently genuinely sorry for herself, "and is ready to 
 blame anybody but herself for the present state of affairs 
 
236 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 James Delacque, or Nick, — or you or I, for that matter, veiy 
 likely." 
 
 Did Hilda know the worst of her sister, Joanna wondered. 
 
 " Have you seen her, Jo ? " 
 
 Joanna nodded . ' ' And Nicholas too. " 
 
 " But Joanna " 
 
 " Hilda, don't let us talk of it," said Joanna. "Talking does 
 no good, and the wliole world seems to have gone wrong 
 somehow." 
 
 A year ago she could have spoken of it all to Lady Hilda, 
 but every month made speech more difficult. And good- 
 natured as she was, Hilda could not understand — only 
 Nicholas could fully underetand. 
 
 Joanna was even glad to see her mother coming toward 
 them in the pause which followed. 
 
 It was evident that Mrs. Conway expected a visitor; she 
 had put on her Sunday dress and a bonnet, which was not her 
 usual attire for the garden. 
 
 But Joanna's fears were by no means set at rest; would Mrs. 
 Conway follow up her introduction by denouncing Lady 
 Florence Delacque, and declining to receive Lady Hilda, or, 
 if she proved willing to overlook these things, was Lady 
 HCda's behaviour to be depended upon ? Joanna knew her 
 too well to believe that anything would restrain her if she 
 once became possessed by the spirit of mischief. 
 
 Even at that moment she did not look at all like Mrs. Con- 
 way's ideal young woman. She had a sailor hat on the back 
 of her head, and a tailor-made shooting dress, which did not 
 reach to her ankles, and was completed by a pair of spats, 
 Mrs. Conway's abhorrence. She had a walking-stick in 
 her hand, and Mrs. Conway considered walking-sticks 
 unfeminine, and a cigarette in her mouth, which was worst 
 of all. 
 
 The tailor-made gown in itself would have been quite 
 enough to incur Mrs. Conway's disapprobation, and all Joanna 
 could hope for was that her mother would consider that things 
 were so bad as to be beyond remonstrance. 
 
 "Mother," she said nervously, "may I introduce Lady 
 Hilda West? " 
 
 Mrs. Conway had not spoken to her for the last few days, 
 and had ignored all her remarks, but though she still looked 
 past her daughter as if she was invisible, sh'e accepted her in- 
 troduction. 
 
 " How do you do. Lady Hilda ! " she said graciously ; " I hope 
 you will give us the pleasure of your company at lunch." 
 
 "Thank you very much; I shall be delighted!" said Lady 
 Hilda. 
 
 It would be pleasant to speak to Miss Clarke of "the day 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORBINANCE. 237 
 
 wheTi Lady Hilda West lunched with us," hut Mrs. Conway 
 honestly helieved it was Chvistian charity that dictated her 
 
 ^^Everydiing went very smoothly at first; Mrs. Conway and 
 Hilda walked up to the house together and talked of the 
 ■weather and the country with much politeness. 
 
 But this agreeable state of affairs lasted precisely till grace 
 had been said and they were all seated at luncheon. 
 
 Mrs. Oonway sat erect and formal at the head of the table, 
 apoloo-ised for the absence of fish, sent Polly for a napkin for 
 Lady Hilda, and followed Maggie with her eyes so sternly 
 that that young woman's waiting, always perfunctory, became 
 worse than usual in her nervousness. 
 
 Mrs. Conway even did violence to her feelings so far as to 
 offer Lady Hilda wine, and it was over this she first saw reason 
 to disapprove of- her guest. 
 
 " There is some claret in the sideboard," she said, in a dis- 
 couraging tone. " I can't say that I myself approve of wine at 
 this time of day, or indeed at any time, but I daresay you are 
 accustomed to it." 
 
 " No, I quite agree with you," said Lady Hilda sweetly ; " I 
 never take anything now, unless indeed you wouldn't be 
 shocked at my having a little whiskey and soda ? " 
 
 But Mrs. Conway was shocked— very much shocked. 
 
 " You must excuse me, Lady Hilda West," she said ; " there 
 is no whiskey in the house except what Mr. Conway keeps 
 under lock and key." 
 
 "It doesn't matter in the least," said Lady Hilda; " only I 
 wonder you have never taken to it yourself; there is nothing 
 makes you feel so fit, if you are tired or wet after a day's 
 shooting, for instance." 
 
 The idea of Mrs. Conway, tired and wet after a day's shoot- 
 ing, seemed rather inappropriate, and in the middle of a stony 
 silence Joanna unfortunately laughed. 
 
 But her motlier merely looked at her and then turned to 
 the worst offender. 
 
 " I do not approve of wine or spirits in any form," she said, 
 with crushing severity. 
 
 " No ? " said Lady Hilda, unabashed. 
 
 Mrs. Conway might alarm her family, who were now in a 
 in a state of the gravest anxiety, but her guest was not so 
 easily dismayed. 
 
 But after this there was a great peace, which lasted till Mr. 
 Jellett became a bone of contention. 
 
 " He is a truly Christian young man, who does his utmost 
 to serve his Master," said Mrs. Conway, with whom Mr. 
 Jellett was just then in high favour. " It would give me pleas- 
 ure—the greatest pleasure— to introduce him to you." 
 16 
 
238 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Oh, pray don't," said Lady Hilda fervently; " if there is 
 anyone I detest, it is a Christian young man and, in fact, the 
 only man in the shape of a clergyman that I can stand is a 
 dear little cur6 1 met in Norway, who was pei-fectly chai-ming." 
 
 "I can only hope you do not mean what you say, Lady 
 Hilda," said Mrs. Conway. 
 
 " I am afraid I do," said Hilda. " Joanna, my little cur6 had 
 the most lovely eyes, and he used to look at me— just like Mr. 
 Santon. Do you remember how he used to gaze at you over 
 the billiard table ? " 
 
 Lady Hilda was making herself agreeable with a vengeance. 
 
 "Yes," said Joanna hastily. "But what a lot of people you 
 seem to have met at Norway." 
 
 " As to clergymen," pursued Lady Hilda, " don't you agree 
 ■with me, honestly, Mrs. Conway, that they are rather apt to 
 turn into old women ? My sister went in for them, if you like ; 
 she used to go to confession for nearly a year after she was 
 grown up, and then her saintly and exceedingly handsome 
 instructor was removed for coming to church drunk one Sun- 
 day, and we had an old man with a family instead, so she 
 never went any more." 
 
 " For what we have received the Lord make us truly 
 thankful," said Mrs. Conway abruptly, much to the indigna- 
 tion of Polly, who had not succeeded in finishing her pud- 
 ding owing to her deep interest in the conversation. 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, how could you talk like that? " said Joanna. 
 
 "Why, you don't call that anything ?" said Hilda, laugh- 
 ing. "It's nothing to what I can do if I try, and I was only 
 just beginning." 
 
 " Well, I think it was horrid of you,'' said Joanna. 
 
 " I couldn't resist your mother's face. Besides, it is really 
 all quite true about Florence's confessor. Now, Jo, don't 
 look so prim, and take me to see your carving in case your 
 mother never lets me into the house again." 
 
 Which Joanna secretly felt was more than likely. 
 
 She had been working very hard lately, and she had a good 
 many carvings on hand, which Lady Hilda insisted on look- 
 ing at one after the other. 
 
 " Jo," she said, "I needn't preface what I am going to say 
 by telling you that I know nothing about carving, because 
 you are aware of this, but are you also aware how completely 
 different your work is now from what it was in Merevale 
 times ? Even I can see the difference." 
 
 "Do you mean, better?" said Joanna, flushing. 
 
 "I should think I do. I mean that it is alive, which it 
 wasn't then. I am not a fool, Jo, if I don't understand about 
 carving, and in my opinion there's a touch of the real thing 
 about it — this is more than just clever carving." 
 
ITSSlF-DENYING OBDINAIfGE. 239 
 
 "I have sometimes begun to hope,'' said Joanna, with 
 brightening eyes. 
 
 "Well, if Meredyth comes over, take mjr advice, and show 
 it to him ; he does know something about it." 
 
 "But is he coming?" said Joanna. "Oh, Hilda, I should 
 like to see him again ; he was so kind to me, and I never 
 thanked him." 
 
 " I don't know. I don't know whether to send for him or 
 not. I wUl try what I can do first," said Lady Hilda, "for 
 he is very busy. But he spoke of coming, when he heard 
 that they were here. He wants to get Nick, at least, out of 
 the country." 
 
 To get Nick out of the country. To dispose of him, where 
 he could go comfortably to the bad if he liked, well out of his 
 connections' sight. 
 
 Joanna said to herself bitterly that she knew what that 
 meant, and her face hardened. 
 
 " At any rate, your father will have a letter from Meredyth 
 to-morrow," said Lady Hilda, and she would say no more. 
 
 CHAPTER LHI. 
 
 " LoTe is maintained by wealth ; when all is spmt 
 Adversity tlien breedn the discontent" 
 
 "I CAN pity Nicholas now," said Ladv Hilda. 
 
 She had come into her sister's room, and found Lady 
 liorence lying on her bed, trying to make up her mind to 
 rouse herself and dress for dinner. 
 
 She started up, and looked at Hilda with dismay. 
 
 t>.=fT wil^ rr°fr 'i l'^ ^^^^- " ^^'^ ^° yo-i look atme like 
 that ? What has Nick been saying ? " 
 
 "There is no good in exciting yourself, Florence," said 
 Hilda gravely. " Nobody has told me anything-it was not 
 necessary that anybody should tell me. I was neither blind 
 nor a tool when I came m a few hours ago " 
 
 "Oh, you are going to desert me too ! " cried Lady Florence 
 
 Hilda drew a chair up to the bedside and sat down. 
 
 call^"^T i<f '^"^' ",^ ^'".''°* ,^°i°g^ to desert you, as you 
 sor offM^IfT ^ unpleasant and very disgusting, and the 
 
 sort of thmg I never could understand, but all the salme " 
 
 You can t understand it-how could you ? But if vou 
 hvedhere, you would understand it!" cried Lady Florence 
 
240 A SELF-DENTINQ OBDINAHCE. 
 
 passionately. " Can you understand getting up every morn- 
 ing, witli nothing to do and nobody to speak to all day long? 
 Knowing that it would be the same always on and on and on, 
 as long as you lived ? Hilda, I can't live without excitement 
 — I cannot — it breaks my heart ! " 
 
 " There is a good deal in what you say," said Hilda. 
 
 " Just think of this hole to live in, without money — without 
 even a maid," said Lady Floi-ence, unconscious of any bathos 
 ill descending to particulars; "and other people amusing 
 themselves who are no better than I am ; and Judith, who 
 makes herself a perfect nuisance to men. Hilda, I am the 
 most miserable, unfortunate woman in the world ! " 
 
 " I certainly don't think you are very happy," said Hilda. 
 " Look here, Florence, what do you say to this? You know 
 I am not rolling in wealth, and I shall have my trousseau to 
 attend to in the autumn, but if you will agree to my condi- 
 tions, I think I can promise you three hundred a year, which 
 is better than nothing, and I may be able to do more when 
 I am married. Then there is your own money " 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, Hilda, I will agree to anything if you will get 
 me away from here," cried Lady Florence, catching her 
 sister's hand. 
 
 " You can guess my first condition," said Lady Hilda gravely. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will give it up — I promise I will give it up, 
 once I leave this place." 
 
 "I thought," said Lady Hilda — "my idea was, that you 
 could manage to live somewhere abroad cheaply enough; 
 somewhere where the baby could be educated later on " 
 
 "The baby ? " said Lady Florence blankly. 
 
 " The baby," said Lady Hilda decidedly. 
 
 " But, I cannot take the child." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because it is impossible— it is out of the question. What 
 could I do with it when I was travelling about ? " 
 
 "I did not know you intended to travel about," said 
 Hilda. She looked at her sister with more curiosity than 
 anger. 
 
 "Besides, do you want to make it impossible for me to be 
 received again ? Can't you see the awful awkwardness ? Can't 
 you see that you are unreasonable ? " 
 
 " I can see your point of view, " said Hilda calmly. ' ' What 
 do you propose yourself ? " 
 
 "For the child ? Oh, somebody can easily be found to look 
 after it. I would be glad to have it if I could, but you see 
 the impossibility ? It is a miserable business. James must 
 do something." 
 
 " I will not ask him," said Lady Hilda drily. 
 
 " And yet you know how much worse it will be for me. I 
 
A SELF-DEWYING ORDINANOB. 241 
 
 think that is very unkind of you," said Lady Florence. She 
 was sitting up in bed, and looked brighter already. 
 
 " I would rather starve than go to Mm," said Lady Hilda. 
 " But of course that is purely a matter of opinion." 
 
 " It is easy for you to talk of starving, when you ai'e going 
 to marry a man with twenty thousand pounds a year," said 
 Lady Florence. "I would certainly not go to him if it could 
 be avoided, but you see for yourself that I cannot live on tliree 
 or four hundred a year. It is simply impossible." 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot promise more," said Hilda. 
 
 "Oil, you are very kind — very kind indeed. But you see 
 if I go abroad — to a place such as Monte Carlo, for instance — 
 I must have decent clothes. Oh, Hilda, the very thought of 
 getting away makes me forget all the misery," said Lady 
 Florence, with glowing cheeks. 
 
 " But nothing is arranged, and in the meantim.e you had 
 better change your dress," said Lady Hilda gravely. 
 
 "If I lost hope now, I should kill myself," said Lady 
 Florence vehemently. 
 
 Hilda went downstairs and nursed the baby till dinner-time. 
 
 Something could be done with Lady Florence evidently, 
 but what about tlie baby, and that almost equally helpless 
 individual, Nicholas ? Would it be right for her to make it 
 possible for her sister to desert the child. And yet what Lady 
 Florence said was true enough : if she took it with her it was 
 impossible that anything could be forgotten. Lady Florence 
 was not a woman who could console herself by being nothing 
 but a mother to the child, whose coming she already resented. 
 If she found herself shut up with it in some little French 
 town things would be no better than they were here in 
 Ballylone. 
 
 As for Nicholas, if he was to be arranged for, money would 
 certainly be necessary. 
 
 Hilda made up her mind there was nothing to be done but 
 to write to Lord Meredyth, and if anybody could make the 
 best of a bad business, she had the fullest faith that he was 
 the man. 
 
 He would arrange something for Nicholas, and help Hilda 
 to decide about her sister and the child. The child— there was 
 the chief difficulty, the worst difficulty of all. 
 
 A child nobody wanted, whose life was spoilt for her befpre 
 ever she came into the world. Worse than all, a girl. 
 
 Lady Florence had evidently no intention of letting the 
 responsibility rest upon her own shoulders. 
 
 She would probably have been very fond of her child if it 
 had come to her lawfully and properly in the due course of 
 events, and been a pretty child, with plenty of nurses and 
 white frocks. 
 
242 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 She and Nicholas would, without doubt, have been a charm- 
 ing married couple, with the addition of plenty of money and 
 society. 
 
 It was not her fault that things had gone askew, that the 
 baby was an increasing inconvenience, and that Nicholas was 
 poor and selfish— at least Lady Florence did not consider it 
 her fault. 
 
 She had been so pretty and so graceful and so fascinating 
 all her life ; she had been petted and spoilt always, by her 
 own family, and by everyone she knew; it was small wonder 
 she had grown to think herself the most important person in 
 her world. 
 
 Hilda remembered what a very poor second she had played 
 to her sister in the old days at home ; she had not minded 
 much so long as she had been free to amuse herself after her 
 own fashion, but though she and Florence had always been 
 excellent friends, she had not joined the rest of the family iu 
 worship. 
 
 Now she was the only one left to remember how systematic- 
 ally Florence had been taught to be selfish. When the first 
 shock of disgust was over, she was sorry for her sister. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 " H^las ! oil done oheroher ou trouver le bonhenr? 
 En tons lieux, en touB temps, dans tonte la nature, 
 Nnllo part tout entifere, partout aveo mesure, 
 Et partout passager, bora de son eenl aiiteur." 
 
 " AtTNT Joanna, grandfather wants you in the dining-room," 
 said Polly. 
 
 Joanna put down her carving and looked at the child in 
 dismay. 
 
 " What is the matter, Polly? " she said. " Is anything more 
 wrong ? " 
 
 "I don't know," said Polly. "He called it out when I was 
 in the hall, and said I was to be quick. I don't think he was 
 angry, but I am not sure." 
 
 Joanna got up with a sigh ; somehow she felt as if she had 
 reached the last stage of endurance this morning. 
 
 Hilda's coming had been a joy, but there had been a good 
 deal of pain in the joy. The near presence of Nicholas, and 
 the remembrance of their meetings, kept her in a state of 
 constant nervous excitement. 
 
 Any day, almost any hour of the day, she might see him ; 
 the next person she met on the road, the next voice she heard 
 might be his. 
 
A BBLF-DENTINQ OBBINANCE. 243 
 
 Slie bad lain awake the whole night before, full of an in- 
 tense overmastering excitement, which had no more cause or 
 reason to come that night than any other. 
 
 The strain had suddenly become too great, and the false joy 
 her meeting with Nicholas had brought her had all at once 
 proved how false it was. 
 
 Then she had risen to a heavy, oppressive day, with thunder 
 in the air, and rain in the low, dark clouds. 
 
 Mrs. Conway had been very irritable at breakfast ; thunder 
 always got upon her nerves. 
 
 Elizabeth had her breakfast in bed, so Joanna had been the 
 nearest, and in every way the most convenient victim. Mrs. 
 Conway had talked to her husband and at her daughter all 
 breakfast time. 
 
 First Lady Hilda had been brought up for discussion and 
 condemnation, then had come covert allusions to Sir Nicholas 
 and Lady Florence, and finally remarks upon the wrong of 
 giving an opening to gossip, upon the wickedness of girls 
 nowadays, who cared for nothing but pleasure, casting aside 
 modesty and womanly feeling in its pursuit. 
 
 Joanna bent her head low, and said nothing. It might all 
 be true, very likely it was; she had been unwomanly and 
 immodest. 
 
 Mrs. Conway always had prayers after breakfast, as she had 
 discovered that her family had an inclination to shirk them if 
 she had them before, and this morning her special prayers for 
 Sir Nicholas and Lady Florence, and afterwards for Joanna 
 herself, were so full of displeasure, and so unmistakable that 
 Joanna was once or twice very near springing to her feet and 
 leaving the room. 
 
 Now she felt she could bear no more ; if her father had 
 come back from his office at this hour to tell her of any fresh 
 sin he had discovered, she simply could not stand it. 
 
 Mr. Conway was in the dining-room, and he was certainly 
 excited, but he did not seem angry, indeed, he smiled at her 
 when she came in, as he had not smiled for the last few days. 
 
 "Joanna," he said, "who do you think I heard from tJfiis 
 morning ? Such a nice, gentlemanly letter." 
 
 It was ridiculous that Nicholas' name should be the first to 
 come into Joanna's head — it was so utterly out of the question 
 that he should have written to Mr. Conway, and that if he 
 had, her father should have spoken of his letter with such 
 approval. 
 
 "I suppose a man's luck really is bound to change some 
 day," said Mr. Conway jubilantly. " It was from your friend, 
 Lord Meredyth, I heard, young woman, offering me his Irish 
 agency, which is worth nearly four hundred a year, and may 
 lead to all sorts of things. What do you say to that ? " 
 
244 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Mr. Conway had lamented at breakfast that morning that 
 an end to Irish landlords and agents was coming within the 
 year, and that Home Rule was a certainty, so Sis rejoicing 
 might have struck Joanna as rather unreasonable. 
 
 "lam very glad," she said, recognising an inadequacy in 
 her tone. 
 
 But she was glad, and upon another day she would have 
 been gladder still. Four hundred a year would make a great 
 difference at Cliff House. 
 
 "And do you know who was the first person I thought of 
 when I got the letter ? " said Mr. Conway. " I thought, why, 
 if Joanna still wants to go to London and work at her carving, 
 here is a way of managing it. What do you say, Joanna ? 
 Shall we arrange it ? Would you like to go ? " 
 
 Joanna sat down abruptly in the nearest chair. 
 
 "Oh, father!" was all she said. Everything in the room 
 seemed to be suddenly dim ; there were tears rolling down her 
 cheeks, she knew, but whether they were tears of joy or sor- 
 row, she was not sure. 
 
 It was so good of him, so good of him even while he was 
 angry with her, to think of her at once when good fortune 
 came to them, and she had wanted to go to London very 
 much, she knew slie would want to go very much. 
 
 But just at first she was speechless, and Mr. Conway, who 
 had not at all expected to have his news received after this 
 fashion, stared at her in consternation. 
 
 " What is tlie matter, Joanna ? " he said. 
 
 "I don't know, father," said Joanna meekly, drying her 
 tears. 
 
 " If you have changed your mind about London now, there 
 is no need for you to go," he said, looking a little damped. 
 
 "It is not that, father; it is only silliness," said Joanna, 
 very much ashamed of herself. "It is so good of you; I 
 can't thank you. I am so glad about it all, that " 
 
 " That you look the pictui-e of misery," said her father, sur- 
 veying her. 
 
 "I believe it is because I am so glad that you are not angry 
 with me any longer," said Joanna desperately. "I have been 
 so miserable these last few days, that I didn't know what to 
 do. Father, I never meant to do anything to make you 
 ashamed of me, and I don't deserve you to be good to me." 
 
 " And I, who thought she didn't care a bit what was said to 
 her," said Mr. Conway to himself. 
 
 In her own room Joanna knelt beside her bed, burying her 
 face in the pillow to keep herself still. 
 
 How she had longed to go to London and have a chance 
 like other people, ever since she had been a little thing! A 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 245 
 
 longing which had grown with her growth and strengthened 
 with her strength, filling her whole mind. 
 
 She had fancied it to herself a hundi-ed times, she had 
 dreamt of it, thought of it, talked of it to her faithful Polly, 
 almost before Polly had known where London was; she had 
 said again and again that she would not mind what happened 
 if she could go to London. 
 
 And now her dream was to be fulfilled ; but what a difference ! 
 
 Joanna remembered very well how she had grown impa- 
 tient at the slowness with which the money to take her to 
 London grew together, how she had got tired of the monotony 
 of Ballylone, and had longed for something to happen— had 
 even prayed for it one day, in a half-superstitious way. Some- 
 thing, no matter what. She only wanted to begin to live. 
 
 What limitless possibilities there had been before her, and 
 she had had the courage which knew no pain to face every- 
 thing 1 
 
 Then Nicholas had come, and Joanna had said good-bye to 
 childhood without a regret, and had started gaily into life 
 without a single misgiving. There was no going back; every 
 one of those days of happiness, she had passed through so 
 lightly, had to be paid for now. 
 
 If she could only "have them over again, she would know 
 better how to enjoy them ; she would not waste one minute, 
 one second. 
 
 But then it had seemed to her that her life would be always 
 the same. 
 
 Now, whatever happened, whatever good fortune might 
 come, there would always be something wanting in her life, 
 something which in this world could never be set right, not if 
 Nicholas had been free to come to her that hour and ask her 
 to marry him. 
 
 Not even with him could there be happiness now, perhaps 
 less with him than with anybody. And yet he filled her world 
 just as much as he had ever done. Joanna remembered a day 
 a long time ago when she had locked herself in her room, half 
 mad with toothache, and thought to herself, what should I do 
 if I had not Nicholas ? how could I bear the pain if I had not 
 him to think about ? 
 
 Now toothache or heartache or anything else must be borne 
 alone. 
 
 She must go away, knowing that Nicholas loved her, know- 
 ing, too, very well, that when he saw her no longer he would 
 care every day less and less. 
 
 She knew him so well. 
 
 She felt she could have understood him and taken care of 
 him and forgiven him, and even kept him true, better than 
 anybody else. 
 
246 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 But the best thing she could do for him now was to leave 
 him and never see him again. 
 
 Could it be all a bad dream ? If she could succeed in awak- 
 ing herself would she find that all was right as ever between 
 Nicholas and her, that she had only to get up and go to meet 
 him in the big meadow with a light heart. 
 
 Suddenly the rain came bursting down in a heavy sullen 
 torrent. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 " Words are like leaves : and where they most abound, 
 Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found." 
 
 " Sir Nicholas' polo-cart has gone past, but Lord Meredyth 
 can't possibly be going to stay at the Lodge," said Mrs. More- 
 land. " Why, as it is, Sir Nicholas must do without a dress- 
 ing-room." 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Moreland !" said Miss Clarke, extremely 
 shocked. 
 
 But Mrs. Moreland being deaf, the remonstrance was un- 
 heard, and in any case would have been unheeded. 
 
 " The little McNat girl said that that room at McCracken's 
 had been takeri for him— just to think of it — an earl and all," 
 said Mrs. Moreland, whose frank admiration of rank always 
 annoyed Miss Clarke. 
 
 " I am sure," she said loudly, " we would have been most 
 willing to give him a bed, which would have been more what 
 he was accustomed to, but under the circumstances " 
 
 " My good woman, there would be little difference in his 
 eyes between Mrs. McCracken's and your little spare room. 
 You are wise in letting well alone, for what do you know 
 about the wants of that rank of life ? " said Mrs. Moreland. 
 
 Whereupon Miss Clarke subsided into a sulky silence, and 
 if she had seen any way to set about it, would then and there 
 have made up her mind to offer Lord Meredyth shelter. 
 
 "He is the least troublesome person I ever knew,'' said 
 Joanna, from her corner. 
 
 Mrs. Moreland was taking her turn of having the Zenana 
 meeting at her house, and on this occasion it only numbered 
 four members, one being Polly. 
 
 The Chesters were always more than erratic, and during 
 three successive wet days Mrs. Conway had succeeded in 
 catching a bad cold. 
 
 So Joanna and Polly had been despatched down in the rain 
 by themselves, and of all things Joanna hated a Zenana meet- 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 247 
 
 ing at Mrs. Moreland's, where the -windows were never opened, 
 let her son, ia his medical capacity, remonstrate as he would. 
 
 Polly, safe from her grandmother's eye, was enjoying her- 
 self. She had got her feet thoroughly wet walking down, 
 and they were at present encased in a pair of Mrs. Moreland's 
 shoes and stockings, which afforded her intense satisfaction. 
 
 Besides, she was looking forward hopefully to tea, when 
 she knew Mrs. Moreland always had a delightful cake, and 
 always insisted that Polly should take home a large slice with 
 her. 
 
 It was only very lately that Joanna had ceased to be expected 
 to do likewise. 
 
 "So you are going away soon, Joanna," said Mrs. More- 
 land. 
 
 " Not till September, I think," said Joanna. 
 
 "And I am to go and live with her when she gets rich," 
 said Polly; " that is to say if I promise never to have black 
 nails. My nails are disgraceful, aren't they, Mrs. Moreland ? " 
 she ended with modest satisfaction. 
 
 " When I was a little girl, I should have been whipped for 
 hands like that," said Mrs. Moreland. 
 
 ' ' They are bad, " said Polly. ' ' Don't you think I had better 
 go to your room and wash them ? " 
 
 By which judicious move she secured her freedom till tea, 
 to the extreme envy of her aunt. 
 
 Joanna stitched away at her little pink frock, and listened 
 dreamily to the other two. 
 
 "Can you believe it," said Miss Clarke, "after all I have 
 said to Mr. Jellett, I cannot impress upon him the necessity 
 for having an afternoon Sunday-school for the children ! " 
 
 " Why, there is Mrs. Conway " 
 
 "Oh, I- know she is very good," said Miss Clarke jealously; 
 "but she has not the influence of a clergyman in his own 
 parish. I said all I could to him; I represented to him that a 
 great many of the children were going to the Presbyterian 
 school in the afternoon, and that it was absolutely necessary 
 that something should be done, and he said he quite agreed 
 with me, but no effort has been made." 
 
 " Indeed, from all I hear, my dear, Mr. Jellett has other 
 things than the Sabbath-school in his mind at present," said 
 Mrs. Moreland impressively, and she finished her sentence in 
 the stage whisper which had brought embarrassment to so 
 many of her friends. 
 
 "They say he has been seen walking more than once with a 
 certain lady, and with my own eyes I saw her speak to him on 
 this street." 
 
 "It is really true, then?" said Miss Clarke, dropping her 
 work. 
 
248 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 "It may be or it may not," said Mrs. Moreland; "I am 
 never one to condemn anybody." 
 
 " But you saw her speak to him ? " 
 
 "I did, indeed; witli her man's shirt and her stick, and her 
 walk, as if the world was not good enough for her. Do you 
 happen to have the strong white cotton, Joanna ? " 
 
 Joanna did not mind what they talked about now ; she 
 would soon be away from it all, and when she remenibei-ed 
 this, she realised that she had a sort of affection even for Miss 
 Clarke, and that Mrs. Moreland had often been very good to 
 her, and when she was a child had always welcomed her to 
 the house. 
 
 But she was glad all the same when the sound of wheels 
 created a diversion, and sent both Mrs. Moreland and Miss 
 Clarke to the window. 
 
 A stranger of any kind, much less a real earl, was not to be 
 seen every day in Ballylone. 
 
 Joanna did not go to the window; she would have run 
 down to speak to Lord Meredyth had she not known what an 
 excitement it would create, and how eagerly the conversation 
 would be watched from the window. Besides, it was raining 
 in torrents. 
 
 She sat still, and thought how nice it would be to see his 
 friendly smile, and hear his voice again. 
 
 Consequently she missed an excellent view of the side of his 
 hat, his ear and his shoulder. 
 
 Mrs. Moreland and Miss Clarke were a little disappointed. 
 
 "Between his coat and his umbrella one could not see 
 much," said Miss Clarke. "However, there are candles to be 
 got to-morrow at McCracken's and I will go up myself instead 
 of sending Sarah." 
 
 Joanna was not unkind enough to suggest that Lord Mere- 
 dyth might not spend his day hanging about the shop ; she 
 sewed away diligently and silently, and thought of him. 
 
 Presently the tea and Polly appeared simultaneously, and 
 afterwards there were missionary reports to be read — to be 
 read, too, at a shout for Mrs. Moreland's benefit. 
 
 Polly yawned and pricked her fingers; the close room 
 always gave Joanna a headache, but she did not mind it so 
 much as usual to-day. This kind of thing was not to go on 
 just the same all her life till she grew old, as she had some- 
 times feared — there was a definite end approaching. 
 • However, she was glad when it was all over, and she and 
 Polly were free to roll up their work and start home through 
 the rain. 
 
 Not, however, till she had refused a pressing invitation to 
 stay for high tea and spend the evening, which Mrs. More- 
 land's unconquerably hospitable instincts always forced her to 
 
A SELF-DENYING- ORDINANCE. 249 
 
 proffer to her guests, also the use of a rather dilapitated pair 
 of goloshes, which their owner was wont to wear tied on by an 
 old pair of red garters. 
 
 "My boots were dried over the kitchen fire," said Polly, 
 " and they feel so funny. Shall we go by the short cut, Aunt 
 Joanna ? It is not so very wet if you keep along by the 
 side." 
 
 "No, no, we had better go round," said Joanna; hut she 
 said so as much because she hoped vaguely that they might 
 meet Lord Meredyth as because the lane was muddy. 
 
 They did meet him, just as they left the village, and 
 between the rain and her umbrella, and Polly clinging onto 
 her arm, Joanna was very nearly passing him unrecognised. 
 
 But he, having neither umbrella nor little girl, stopped at 
 once. 
 
 "Joanna," be said, quite eagerly. 
 
 He had always liked her since first she had come to Mere- 
 vale, and, being sorry for her, in their long journey together 
 he had grown to like her better still. 
 
 As for Joanna, she gave him her hand in silence, with the 
 remembrance of their good-bye in the Belfast hotel coming 
 back to her very freshly. 
 
 The silence had lasted quite long enough to surprise Polly 
 before either of them spoke. 
 
 Then Lord Meredyth said : "Where are you going this 
 awful day ? " 
 
 " Home," said Joanna. " Tou have no umbrella." 
 
 " I can stand a good deal of wetting," said he, looking at her 
 with the smile which was her most vivid remembrance of him, 
 and turning. 
 
 "How is Lady Meredyth?" said Joanna, still a little 
 embarrassed. The first moment of meeting again a person 
 once liked very much is seldom altogether pleasant. 
 
 "Judith is in London, and very flourishing indeed. What 
 about yourself ? Hilda tells me I am to expect great things 
 from your carving." 
 
 " I hope you will think it is better," said Joanna, flushing. 
 " I have worked very hard, and now I am going to London." 
 
 "Are you? I am awfully glad," said Lord Meredyth 
 heartily. " I hope we shall see something of you. Is this 
 Polly?" 
 
 Whereupon Polly entered into the conversation with much 
 gratification. 
 
 Joanna did not say much ; she wished she had courage to 
 ask Lord Meredyth about Nicholas and what he intended to 
 do, but Nicholas' name was a very hard one to say now, and, 
 besides, she did not know whether it would he right for her to 
 ask the question. 
 
250 A 8WLF-T)EN7IN0 ORDINANCE. 
 
 So she let Polly talk, and Lord Meredyth, who had a culte 
 tor children, was quite content to talk to her. 
 
 He said good-bye to them at Cliff House gate, in a mo- 
 mentary gleam of damp evening sunshine. 
 
 " I am coming to see your father to-morrow. Miss Conway," 
 he said ; " and then I am to see those carvings and pronounce 
 my valuable opinion, am I not ?" 
 
 "I am very glad you are coming," said Joanna. 
 
 " And so am I," said Polly. 
 
 "And I am very glad to see you again," Joanna added. 
 
 Then, as he turned away, she suddenly lowered her voice : 
 "Lord Meredyth, I never thanked you for all your kind- 
 ness " 
 
 ' ' We will have a long talk to-morrow," said Lord Meredyth 
 rather hastily. 
 
 "And now, I am going to kiss my hand to you all down 
 the road," said Polly ; "and you will promise to look round 
 before you turn the corner, won't you ? " 
 
 "Indeed you will do no such thing, Polly," said Joanna. 
 "You will come in this minute and get dry." 
 
 "Never mind, Polly; there's a great deal of tyranny in 
 this world," said Lord Meredyth, laughing, and raising his 
 hat. • 
 
 Joanna had to bring all her good sense to the rescue to drive 
 away a feeling of disappointment at the meeting. When they 
 had parted, they had been forced by circumstances into a sud- 
 den intimacy, and now they seemed to have fallen back again 
 to the level of mere acquaintances. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 "A great many difficulties arise from falling in love with the wrong 
 person." 
 
 After the three days' rain came a lovely morning. 
 
 Lord Meredyth breakfasted on rashers and eggs, and listened 
 to Mrs. McCracken's rejoicings that her hay was still uncut, 
 and her lament over the damage done to a field of ripening 
 corn. He won her heart by his interest in crops and farming, 
 which was quite genuine and practical. 
 
 Then he wrote a few business letters, and took them to the 
 post for want of something better to do, and by this time it 
 was half-past ten, which he considered a reasonable time to go 
 up to the Lodge. He did not hurry himself in any way, and 
 he rather enjoyed the walk ; if there was mud on the roads, 
 there was at least plenty of sun overhead. 
 
A SELF-BENTINQ ORDINANCE. 251 
 
 It had been extremely inconvenient to come to Ireland just 
 now, but it had been necessary, and there was no good worry- 
 ing about it. 
 
 He had made up his mind the night before about what he 
 was to do and say with regard to Sir Nicholas and Lady 
 Florence, and he hoped everything could be settled very 
 quickly. 
 
 He thought over Joanna a little ; being an extremely prac- 
 tical young man, he was troubled with none of her fanciful 
 disappointment about their meeting. He had a very friendly 
 feeling toward her, and determined that Judith should be kind 
 to her in London. 
 
 Then his mind strayed to a certain half -formed system of 
 drainage which he had not yet worked out to his own satisfac- 
 tion, and he was deeply engrossed in measuring its advan- 
 tages and disadvantages when he came to the Lodge gate, and 
 found Lady Hilda waiting for him. 
 
 " I have been looking out for you for ever so long," she 
 said. " The light comes into my room so much that I wake 
 ever so early in the morning. What do you think of your 
 abode ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'm in clover. I discovered my windows were nailed 
 up, and insisted on my host admitting a little air, and for a 
 permanence I should prefer that the young women at the 
 other side of the street had not quite such a good view of my 
 dressing operations. However, if it amused them, I am sure 
 I am very glad. I slept all night, and had excellent rashers 
 and eggs for breakfast." 
 
 "And now," said Lady Hilda, "have you made up your 
 mind what you are going to do — what we are going to 
 do?" 
 
 Lord Meredyth leaned his elbows on the low gate, and 
 drew thoughtful patterns on the gravel with his stick. 
 
 " I have thought it all over," he said, " and I will tell you 
 what I propose, if you agree with me. First of all, I should 
 like this to be clear : Is there no hope of a divorce, and are 
 they willing to separate ? " 
 
 " Yes, to your second question at any rate,'' said Hilda. 
 " Florence's one idea is to leave this place at any cost, and she 
 is tired of Nicholas. It is something new she wants — some 
 excitement." 
 
 " As to Nicholas Osborne, he never was two days of the 
 same mind," said Lord Meredyth. 
 
 " Nick is disgusted with her— naturally," said Lady Hilda. 
 
 " It is a bad business all round," Lord Meredyth said. " But 
 as far as Osborne himself is concerned, I see my way pretty 
 clearly. My idea is to take this place off his hands for what- 
 ever it is worth, clear up his debts, and start him with a few 
 
252 A SELF-DENTINQ OBDINANOB. 
 
 hundreds on a ranch of mine in America. If he refuses, he 
 must just go on his own way." 
 
 " He won't refuse ; he can't," said Hilda. 
 
 " That is simple enough," said Meredyth, absently drawing 
 out his name on the gravel ; " but the rest is not such plain 
 sailing. The right thing unquestionably would be for your 
 sister to take the child with her and go abroad." 
 
 "I am glad you think so," said Hilda, brightening. "It 
 was what I proposed, but she would not hear of it." 
 
 "In the immediate future, she must leave this place. 
 Isn't there anybody in the shape of an aunt or old cousin to 
 whom you could telegraph to meet you in London, and look 
 after Lady Florence, at any rate for the present ? " 
 
 " I can take her to rooms myself " 
 
 "That is out of the question," said Lord Meredyth with 
 decision. ' ' Dawley has already a very good right to complain. 
 I am sorry you came here, Hilda, but as that can't be helped, 
 I hope you will promise me to go to Judith at once when you 
 get to London. " 
 
 " Da wley must just take me as he finds me, or leave me 
 alone," said Lady Hilda defiantly. 
 
 "If I were in his position, it would be a long time before I 
 forgave you for going off in this way, without even saying 
 where you wei-e going to." 
 
 Lady Hilda flushed crimson. 
 
 " The devil looks after his own," she said sharply. " I am 
 perfectly well able to take care of myself, Meredyth, and if 
 Da wley doesn't know it yet, the sooner he finds out the better." 
 
 " Come Hilda, don't let us quarrel," said Lord Meredyth, 
 holding out his hand with a smile. " After all it is certainly 
 not my business to interfere with you, but it is just as well 
 that I am not in Dawley's place, isn't it ? You and I would 
 always -be quarrelling ! " 
 
 Hilda's laugh did not sound particularly amused. 
 
 " We have wandered from the point to discuss my delin- 
 quencies, " she said. 
 
 " The point is, do you think Florence would be willing to 
 start this afternoon, and could you be ready then ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hilda briefly. 
 
 "Also, do you know of anyone to send for on such short 
 notice ? " 
 
 "I am going to be very obedient. I will give you the 
 address of an aunt of ours, but I warn you that Florence 
 hates her." 
 
 " We can't consult Florence's likes and dislikes," said Lord 
 Meredyth shortly. "This is Tuesday; I will try to settle 
 Osborne's concerns, and get him out of this by the end of the 
 week. In the meantime, if you are able to arrange, with 
 
A SELF-BENTINa ORDINANCE. 253 
 
 Judith's help, for your sister to go abroad at once, -with your 
 aunt or some other suitable person, so much the better. As 
 far as money matters go, you may count on me to the extent 
 of a few hundreds a year " 
 
 " Oh, Meredyth, we have no right whatever to come upon 
 you for money," said Lady Hilda hastily. "I can do some- 
 thing, and then my cousin " 
 
 "You can count upon me for anything up to five hundred 
 a year, that is all I wanted to say," returned Lord Meredyth 
 calmly. " If it isn't necessary, so much the better. One thing, 
 Hilda, I don't think it is necessary or advisable to endow 
 Florence with a large income ; we don't want to reward her, 
 and whatever she has, there are sure to be debts to pay at 
 intervals." 
 
 "I shall be ready to start this afternoon, and I will do all 
 you advise," Hilda said. 
 
 " As to the child, the woman of the house seems fond of it, 
 and it had better remain here, till we can make some further 
 arrangements, I think. When I remember that chDd, with 
 its life simply destroyed for it, I feel that Osborne and Lady 
 Florence deserve to be left without a helping hand, " Meredyth 
 ended, with a very stern face. 
 
 " I should like to have you for a judge. Jack," said Lady 
 Hilda, " if it was justice I wanted, but not if it was mercy. 
 You help, but with such a contempt for the sinnei-s you are 
 helping ! " 
 
 "It is that child's life I can't forgive them," said Lord 
 Meredyth. " Hilda, it's an odd world ; here's this child that 
 nobody wants, and there's nothing I wouldn't give for a child 
 of my own." 
 
 Hilda leaned upon the gate absolutely silent; she knew tliat 
 this was a disappointment which grew and strengthened in 
 bitterness every year. 
 
 " Well, we don't seem to be able to keep away from our own 
 concerns," Lord Meredyth said a moment later, with a laugh. 
 "Come up to the house, Hilda, and I'll speak to Osborne, 
 while you settle matters with your sister." 
 
 The terms between Lord Meredyth and his brother-in-law 
 had never been very cordial at the best of times. 
 
 He had from time to time lent Nicholas money and helped 
 him in various ways, but he had never made much effort to 
 conceal that he looked upon him with contemptuous tolerance, 
 and Nicholas, with his sensitiveness to other people's opinion, 
 had not failed to recognise this feeling, and to dislike Mere- 
 dyth proportionably. 
 
 With him, Nicholas' usual good temper deserted him. 
 
 Still, he was quite aware that if any help were to come in 
 the present state of affairs, it would be" from Meredyth. 
 17 
 
254 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 He was not at all pleased to see him in Ballylone ; he was 
 ashamed of his surroundings, and he remembered too well 
 how he had described the place to him as a shooting lodge, 
 which was convenient if a little rough. 
 
 He would have liked to avoid Meredyth altogether, but as 
 this was clearly impossible he greeted him very civilly when 
 he came into the ofiBce. 
 
 He was lounging in his favourite chair, with a pipe in his 
 mouth, but he got up to shake hands with his visitor. 
 
 "Will you have a cigar, Meredyth ? " he said ; "there are 
 some very decent ones here. Have you seen the papers this 
 morning ; we get the Times and the Morning Post." 
 
 But Lord Meredyth had not come to the lodge to smoke or 
 read the papers. He leaned against the mantel board, and 
 with very little preliminary he made his offer. 
 
 Osborne must understand that no very gorgeous posi- 
 tion was offered to him, but Meredyth knew he could ride, 
 and if he was willing to work hard, he would be glad to 
 help him later on in any way in his power. He hoped 
 Nicholas would see his way to letting him know his decision 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 Nicholas listened to him with a very sullen face, pulling his 
 moustache and shifting his position nervously. 
 
 He answered, stammering more than usual : "I d-don't 
 see that I have any choice, Meredyth, except to th-thank 
 you." 
 
 "I don't see that you have," said Meredyth. "You see, 
 Sylvain has made it impossible for you to go back to England. 
 If you take my advice, you will go as soon as we can arrange 
 about the disposal of this place, and the settlement of any 
 debts you may have." 
 
 " I am sure I have no wish to delay matters." 
 
 There was a short silence. Nicholas stood with frowning 
 ■eyes bent on the ground, and Meredith, having said what he 
 had intended to say, was wondering if it would be well to go 
 into further particulars at once. 
 
 " There is one thing more, Meredyth," said Nicholas. " Of 
 course I am ready to do anything I can for Florence ; I am 
 even ready to take her with me if she wishes, though I can't 
 say I am willing. Tou know the whole business, and you 
 can't think I am to blame for this ? " 
 
 Even now, even with Meredyth, Nicholas clung to his 
 old habit of trying to make the best of his case. 
 
 " I don't want to judge you, I am sure," said Meredyth. 
 
 "Look here, Meredyth ; come to the window for a minute. 
 Do you see that fellow sitting on the door-step? He comes every 
 morning to beg. say what I will." 
 
 "I see him," Meredyth said shortly. 
 
A SELF-DENYINO ORDINANCE'. 255 
 
 " Well, when I first came here that poor devil was earning 
 fair wages and getting on well enough, looking after the 
 Conways' place ; now he can hardly drag himself along ; he 
 is half an idiot and half a heast. It's ether that has done it," 
 Nicholas ended shortly. 
 
 Meredyth did not answer directly. 
 
 " I think I'll have a cigar after all, Oshorne," he said. 
 
 CHAPTER LVn. 
 
 • 
 
 "I classed, appraising once, 
 Earth's lamentable sounds; the welladay, 
 The jarring yea and nay, 
 The fall of liisses on nnansweiing clay, 
 The sobbed farewell, the welcome mournfuller ; — 
 But all did leaven the air 
 With a less bitter leaven of sore despair, 
 Than these words—' I loved once.'' " 
 
 There was a great deal to be done at the Lodge that day. 
 
 Lady Florence's boxes had to be unpiled in the lumber 
 room, and her numerous garments collected and packed. 
 
 She herself was almost incapable from excitement and be- 
 wilderment, and most of the packing fell upon Lady Hilda's 
 shoulders. As for Mrs. Carroll, she was here, there, and every- 
 where, and thought no trouble too great in her joy at getting 
 rid of Lady Florence. 
 
 Hilda managed to secure a few minutes to rush over to Cliff 
 House to say good-bye to Joanna. It was a very hurried and 
 unsatisfactory good-bye. Lady Hilda said that she was going, 
 made Joanna promise to come to her wedding in September, 
 asked if she could get any embroidery done for her in the 
 neighbourhood, and said she would write when she got to 
 London. 
 
 At the end, she casually_ mentioned that Lady Florence was 
 going too, but she was in too great a hurry to wait and 
 explain. 
 
 "And Nicholas ? " asked Joanna, holding her arm. 
 
 "Oh, Nicholas— he is going later," said Lady Hilda. "I 
 really haven't a second, Jo. Good-bye till we meet in 
 London." 
 
 And of these hasty words Joanna could make nothing. 
 
 But Hilda had no time for more ; she got back to find the 
 boxes being corded, and that Lady Florence had completely 
 omitted to pack anything in the shape of brushes and combs 
 and washing apparatus. 
 
 Lord Meredyth was nowhere to be seen ; Nicholas was wan- 
 dering about rather forlornly. 
 
256 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 He was vaguely unhappy, touched hy the approaching 
 parting into something of his old desire for the unattainable, 
 and undecided about going upstairs to say good-bye to Lady 
 Florence. 
 
 Hilda settled the question for him. 
 
 " Nick, have you seen Florence ? " she said. "You had bet- 
 ter go upstairs and get it over, and then make yourself scarce." 
 
 Nicholas was quite glad to have anybody to obey on that 
 day of confusion. 
 
 He went upstairs slowly, and went to Lady Florence with 
 lingering steps. • 
 
 She did not turn round when he came in. She was standing 
 before the glass, twisting up her long, curly red hair, with 
 raised arms, and her pretty face a little flushed. 
 
 Nicholas remembered the time when it had seemed to 
 him the one thing desirable to touch that wavy, shining hair; 
 later, the first time he had kissed her lips ; later still 
 
 He had given up everything to possess her wholly : his 
 former prospects, which seemed to him much brighter now 
 than they had done at the time, the love of a good girl — 
 everything had seemed to him easier than to give up this 
 woman. And now the time had come when of their own will 
 they were to separate, to say good-bye forever with scarcely a 
 regret. 
 
 Passion had passed away, and there was neither love nor re- 
 spect to fill its place. , 
 
 Nicholas did not analyse his feelings; he knew that he felt 
 troubled and touched as he looked at her, but he did not stop 
 to ask himself why. 
 
 When Lady Florence turned round she met his eyes with 
 some shadow of their old expression, and it frightened her. 
 Was it possible that he would want to keep her with hbn — 
 would not be willing to let her go after all ? 
 
 "Nick," she said nervously, "did you order the cart ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Nicholas; " it is all right. I have come to say 
 good-bye." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Lady Florence. 
 
 " I am very sorry too," said Nicholas hoarsely. " Sorry for 
 all the harm I have done you. Florence, you know this is 
 not my doing. I am willing to stand by you if you wish it." 
 
 Lady Florence drew a long breath. 
 
 " Nick, dear," she said, "you know nobody is more sorry to 
 say good-bye than I am, but you must see, too, that anything 
 else is impossible — we can't starve." 
 
 The answer was what he had fully expected, had hoped for, 
 but it caused him an unreasonable pang. Was it a last mem- 
 ory of the love that had died away, or was it only wounded 
 vanity ? 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 257 
 
 " We can say good-bye as friends, at least," he said. 
 
 "Yes, dear, certainly; I hope we shall meet again some 
 day," said Lady Florence, turning away from the glass. She 
 had finished twisting up her hair, and she was almost ready 
 
 She went over to Nicholas and held up her cheek to be 
 kissed, calmly, sorry to say good-bye, but with a thousand 
 other thoughts distracting her mind. 
 
 Nicholas kissed her ; he was not very sorry either, but he 
 was sorry that he was not sorry. 
 
 " Good-bye, darling," he said, but there was no heart in the 
 word. . 
 
 The bathos of it all, he thought, as he went downstairs. 
 That such a parting between them should be possible ! 
 
 Lady Florence, in the hurry and excitement of departure, 
 had only time for a sigh and a muttered, " Poor fellow ! " 
 
 She had not thought he would have been so soiTy to say 
 good-bye, and she was rather flattered and gratified. But it 
 was not saying good-bye that made Nicholas sorry. 
 
 The rest was over very soon. She said good-bye to the 
 baby with a few tears, distracted by feai-s that one of her 
 boxes had been forgotten, and Lord Meredyth sent Carroll 
 on ahead to the station with the luggage, and himself drove 
 down Lady Florence and Hilda. 
 
 Nicholas did not put in an appearance again. 
 
 " Lord Meredyth," said Lady Florence, with tears, " try and 
 think as well of me as you can." 
 
 " Yes " said Lord Meredyth briefly, and that was all that 
 was said on the way down to the station. 
 
 All Ballylone was about the streets in a state of vague ex- 
 citement. Everybody knew that Lady Florence was going, 
 and everybody had formed different conjectures to account for 
 her departure. 
 
 They were in plenty of time at the station, and Lord Mere- 
 dyth and Hilda, at least, were conscious that they were being 
 watched and commented upon by the stray loungers. 
 
 Miss Clarke came down to ask for a time-table, and stared at 
 the group with undisguised curiosity. 
 
 Then came Mr. Jellett, nervously, furtively ; suspiciously 
 surprised when he saw them, and suspiciously perturbed by 
 Lady Florence's bow and greeting. 
 
 "I came to send a telegram," he said, " and I am surprised 
 to see you here." 
 
 "I am going away," said Lady Florence in a low voice. "It 
 is good-bye, Mr. Jellett, but I hope not forever. Perhaps some 
 day we may meet again under happier circumstances." 
 
 " I hope— I hope we will," said Mr. Jellett. 
 
 " And in the meantime, I shall never forget all you have 
 
258 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANCE. 
 
 said to me," said Lady Florence sweetly. "May I write to 
 you if I am in trouble or perplexity ? " 
 
 "Lady Florence, "said Meredyth impatiently, "would you 
 mind coming over here, and telling me what you would like 
 to have in the carriage." 
 
 " You will wait and see the last of me, won't you ? " she said, 
 with a plaintive smile. "I want a lot of things with me, Mere- 
 dyth. It is perfectly detestable travelling without a maid, and 
 not even a man to look after us. I think you might have ar- 
 ranged to come over with us." 
 
 Meredyth made no answer. 
 
 " There is the train," said Lady Hilda. "I will write to you. 
 Jack." 
 
 Then there was a hurried parting, and arrangement of seats. 
 The train did not waste much time at such an unimportant 
 little station as Ballylone. 
 
 "Dositdown, Hilda ! " said Lady Florence ; " you fill up the 
 whole window." 
 
 And her last look was for Mr. Jellett. 
 
 Then, as Ballylone gradually dwindled away in the dis- 
 tance, she sank back into her seat with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Thank Heaven, that is over," she said; "and now for Lon- 
 don, and Life with a capital L ! " 
 
 CHAPTER LVm. 
 
 " Mein Fruhling ging zu wusste, 
 Ich vreisB wohl warum, 
 Die Lippe die mioh Iciisste, 
 1st woiden kiihl und atumm." 
 
 After they were gone, Nicholas strolled back forlornly to 
 the deserted house. 
 
 He had nothing to do and nowhere to go to, and he was 
 desolate, something after the fashion of' a child's utter, hope- 
 less despair; like a child, Nicholas felt as if he could never be 
 happy again. 
 
 He had been to the garden, trying to get some companion- 
 ship from old Kelly, but old Kelly was even more crusty than 
 usual. The three days' rain had done much harm to his flow- 
 ers, and he loved his flowers very dearly. He was unhappy, 
 too, but he did not expect any sympathy from Nicholas, who 
 scarcely knew an auricula from a rose. 
 
 He was short and snappish in his answers and Nicholas was 
 discouraged. 
 
 In the house Mrs. Carroll had taken up the dining-room car- 
 
A SELF-DBNTING OBDINANCB. 259 
 
 pet, and was preparing to have it conveyed out of doors and 
 shaken, as if to rid it of all taint of Lady Florence's presence. 
 She did not want Nicholas, who was decidedly in the way. 
 
 There were signs of departure in the little hall ; ends of cord, 
 discarded labels, and the marks of Carroll's heavy boots upon 
 the carpet. ' 
 
 Nicholas went upstairs; in default of having anywhere else 
 to go. 
 
 •Their room bore the forlorn look given by a hasty depart- 
 ure— fets room, he corrected himself in thought. 
 
 An old hat, some ribbons, a pair of shoes, various odds and 
 ends which Lady Florence had not thought it worth while to 
 take, lay scattered about in dire confusion. But it was the 
 want of things which struck Nicholas; the spaces left where 
 her numerous toilette odds and ends had been, her jewellery, 
 her ornaments. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll's dusting was of a perfunctory kind, and there 
 was a distinct white mark where Lady Florence's dressing-box 
 'had stood; there was an empty shelf on the wall, which had 
 held divers little daintily -bound books of devotion, mixed up 
 with some fantastic animals, and a monkey on a stick, which 
 Lady Hilda had given Nicholas once. 
 
 He felt oddly injured and annoyed to see that the monkey 
 on the stick, which was not Lady Florence's, was gone too. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll had already begun to remove all signs of Lady 
 Florence's presence. She had taken away her pin-cushion and 
 looking-glass, and brought in Nicholas', which had been made 
 over to Lady Hilda. 
 
 Nicholas wandered about, touching one thmg after another, 
 but there was neither amusement nor occupation here; he 
 brushed his hair, which was already quite smooth, gave his 
 moustache a particular twist, which employed him for quite 
 a minute, tried to fancy he needed a shave, and then went 
 down to Mrs. Carroll again. 
 
 She was displaying a most unnatural amount of energy ; 
 the furniture was all covered with sheets, and she had already 
 begun to sweep. 
 
 He stood in the doorway, with his hands in his pockets — 
 very idle, very much in want of someone to speak to. ' 
 
 But Mrs. Carroll did not want him at all. 
 
 "I have made the office as nice as I could for you, sir," she 
 said. " I'll be raising a terrible dust here, and I'll need to have 
 the door shut." 
 
 Nicholas submitted to this decision, and wandered off to find 
 a cigar in the office. 
 
 Then he heard the sound of wheels, and went out to meet 
 Meredyth. 
 , There was the polo-cart, and there was Benedict, displaying 
 
260 A 8ELF-BENTIN0 OBDINANCE. 
 
 his usual objection to stand still, but even they would soon be 
 gone. 
 
 Nicholas went to Benedict's head, and stood beside him, 
 stroking his soft neck. 
 
 "Meredyth," he said, "do you think I had better leave 
 Benedict with Carroll to get him ready for sailing, or send him 
 to Derry or Belfast as he is ? " 
 
 "His action is very good, but he is too hot for harness- 
 work," Lord Meredyth said. " Have you hunted him ? " 
 
 "Only of an odd time," said Nicholas. "He's afraid of 
 nothing, and when I have once got him out of rushing his 
 fences— — " He paused. " I mean, when he has been cured 
 of rushing his fences, I wouldn't ask for a better horse in the 
 field. I was offered seventy for him last autumn, but it wasn't 
 good enough." 
 
 " If he is as good as you say, he is worth more," said Lord 
 Meredyth. He knew Nicholas' possessions were always cred- 
 ited with every virtue, and though he admired Benedict, he 
 was not inclined to do any horse-dealing with his brother- 
 in-law. 
 
 " I shall be sorry if Benedict gets into the hands of a fellow 
 who can't ride," said Nicholas, half to himself. 
 
 "He is hinting tome to take the animal off his hands," 
 thought Meredyth, and he hardened his heart. But in this he 
 wronged Nicholas. 
 
 " The polo-cavt is in good condition," said Lord Meredyth. 
 
 "I only had it built last year," said Nicholas, turning 
 away. " Carroll, take Benedict round. Meredyth, won't you 
 stop here to-night ? You will be as well done for as at 
 McCracken's." 
 
 " No, thanks," said Meredyth. " I am right enough there, 
 and I will stick to my room." 
 
 ' ' You will stay for dinner at least. I don't know what you 
 will get," said Nicholas, looking at his companion and pulling 
 his moustache. 
 
 ' ' No, thanks ; I have ordered a chop, and to-morrow the 
 Conways have asked me to dine." 
 
 " Ah — all right," said Nicholas, but his face fell. 
 
 " Do you think you could make me out some idea of what 
 you owe ? " said Lord Meredyth. "I will come up early to- 
 morrow, and we must see about making arrangements, and 
 having the things valued. Don't you agree with me that it is 
 as well to get everything over as quickly as possible ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Nicholas. 
 
 ' ' My idea was that you might be ready to start on Friday 
 from Derry. The Anchor Line boats call at Moville." 
 
 ' ' And not go to London at all ? " said Nicholas, with a start. 
 
 " Is there any particular object in your going to London ? 
 
A SELF-BENTINO ORDINANCE. 261 
 
 However, we can settle it all to-morrow. Good-bye for the 
 present." 
 
 " Grood-bye," said Nicholas. 
 
 He did not ask Meredy th to come in ; he did not even go 
 through the formahty of shaking hands with him. They 
 parted with a mutual careless nod, and Nicholas went into the 
 house and settled himself in his own favourite chair by in- 
 stinct, while Meredyth walked down the avenue, with the 
 even, purposeful steps of a man who had his place in the 
 world, and who knew how to fill it. 
 
 He was willing and ready to give Nicholas all the practical 
 help in his power, but he was not willing to have more per- 
 sonal communication with him than was absolutely necessary. 
 He believed that he could pardon most things, but not this: 
 he could not pardon a man who was not perfectly straight in 
 all his dealings, who had given others a right to call him dis- 
 honourable. 
 
 Just then, to show Nicholas that he was not absolutely be- 
 yond the pale of human sympathy, that he was not unworthy 
 of speech, would have done him more good than all the prac- 
 tical help in the world. 
 
 He was in one of his fits of intense self -depreciation. He 
 wanted someone to tell him, or at least to imply, that he was 
 not beyond hope. 
 
 What was to become of him ? What did it matter what be- 
 came of him ? he said to himself; and yet he felt that it did 
 matter. He was not prepared to think that his life was over. 
 He who felt so strong and young and full of life. His whole 
 pleasure-loving young mind rebelled at the thought of going 
 out alone to this uncongenial life. 
 
 If he could only have another chance ! There was nobody 
 else to make promises to, so Nicholas made them to himself — 
 gorgeous promises of what his life would have been if there 
 had been another chance for him. 
 
 If his father had left behind him money instead of debts, if 
 Nicholas had left cards alone, if he had never met Lady 
 Florence ! 
 
 He had never had a chance, he told himself, and now every- 
 thing had gone astray, and there was nobody to care or to 
 pity him— except one person from whom he had no right to 
 expect or ask for sympathy. 
 
 No right; it was at least his duty to make no sign, to ask for 
 no pity from her. 
 
 Nicholas could stand the loneliness no longer; he could not 
 fight away this dim, half-formed temptation by himself. 
 
 He again interrupted Mrs. Carroll in her sweeping. 
 
 "Is it — is it near dinner time ?" he said. It was the only 
 plea for his presence he could find. 
 
262 A SELF-DENTING OBDINANCE. 
 
 "Not for near an hour yet, sir," said Mrs. Carroll. "I hope 
 to have the room redd up very shortly now. " 
 
 And then again Nicholas paused and watched her. 
 , " If" — he said, with hesitation — "if you are busy, and the 
 child is in your way, I can look after it without any bother in 
 the study." 
 
 "Oh," said Mrs. Carroll, "I am much obliged to you for 
 thinking of it, but I wouldn't trouble you, sir ; the child is in 
 the kitchen with my little ones." 
 
 It was very kind of him to think of it, but everything was 
 easy to Mrs. Carroll to-day — nothing was a trouble now that 
 Lady Florence was gone. 
 
 " It would be no trouble," he persisted, with hesitation. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for thinking of it, sir," said 
 Mrs. Carroll; "but it's no trouble at all, and my little Annie, 
 she nurses it the best you ever saw." 
 
 Nicholas persisted no further, and into Mrs. Carroll's head 
 the idea that be might have wished for the child never entered. 
 
 Everybody had thought that in this baby might have been 
 salvation for the mother if she had been willing, but nobody 
 seemed to realise that it had anything to do with Nicholas. 
 Nobody suspected the queer, unacknowledged fascination it 
 had liad for him ever since the day when it had smiled up to 
 him from the dining-room rug. 
 
 But the child, too, must be left behind ; the child, too, he 
 would probably never see again. 
 
 Nicholas went out, and wandered about with his pipe in his 
 mouth. 
 
 He did not care to go to the stables, his usual resort, be- 
 cause he did not want to see his polo-cart, his horse, and all 
 the thousand and one things which would soon be his no 
 longer. He did not want to go and lounge away his time 
 among the village men, with whom, in default of other com- 
 panionship, he had occasionally associated ; they must know 
 of all that had happened, and were probably discussing it 
 among themselves, and besides he did not want to meet 
 Meredyth. 
 
 He wandered about among his little trees — not even they 
 would belong to him soon. From the stile which separated 
 him from the hayfield, he could see the Conways' house, and 
 even Joanna's window. 
 
 Quite close to him there was a haystack, just like the one 
 beside which he had first told her that he loved her. She, at 
 least, would be sorry for him if she knew — she only. 
 
 Nicholas told himself now that he had loved her all the 
 time. For Lady Florence it had been nothing but an in- 
 fatuation — a madness such as comes sometimes to the best of 
 men. 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 263 
 
 But it had lost him Joanna ; it had made it impossible to 
 go to her for the sympathy which she would have given. 
 
 " I do love you, I do love you, dear," she had said to him 
 in the lane that last afternoon. 
 
 She would not have looked upon him as an outcast ; she 
 would have comforted him, and said kind words to him. 
 
 There'was only a stile and a meadow between them,— a stile 
 and a meadow,— and the memory of another woman. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 " A •woman stood between hie soul and mine, 
 And waved us off from touching ever more 
 With those unclean -white hands of hers." 
 
 " Grandmother won't be able to come down to dinner to- 
 night," said Polly, with unmistakable satisfaction. ^ ^ 
 
 "I thought she wouldn't," said Joanna, looking up from 
 her carving. "It was absurd to think that a cold like that 
 would get well in a day." 
 
 "Aren't you bothered about Lord Meredyth ?" said Polly 
 with interest. " What will you do if the fish doesn't come ? " 
 
 "Polly, you are the greatest little fusser I ever met," said 
 Joanna, laughing. " If the fish doesn't come. Lord Meredyth 
 will have to try to eat his dinner without it." 
 
 Polly fiew off in a high state of excitement. 
 
 Joanna carved away diligently. She wanted to do as much 
 as she possibly could before she went to London, and every 
 spare moment was engrossed. 
 
 The idea of her going, of the possibilities opening before 
 her, was growing upon her day by day. As her father had 
 said, misfortune could not come always, and perhaps now 
 the tide was going to turn, and a second-best something, 
 which might some day be happiness, was coming to her. It 
 was the best possibility which the world held for her now, 
 she knew. 
 
 But there was not much time for carving allowed to her 
 that day. 
 
 Mrs. Conway's first thought on his arrival had been, as 
 usual, to ask Lord Meredyth to dinner, and when he had 
 accepted, there were many difficulties. Who was to be per- 
 mitted to meet him, and who was to be omitted without of- 
 fence ? What was he to be given to eat, and would Roddy 
 McCracken be able to come over and wait ? 
 
 Mrs. Conway worried herself and wandered about in 
 draughts till her cold was so much worse that there was no 
 choice for her but to go to bed and give her orders from there. 
 
264 A SELF-DENYING OBDINANCE. 
 
 The whole house was upset. They had a scramhling sort of 
 meal in the drawing-room, in the middle of the day, wiiich 
 Polly thought ecstatically delightful, and people never ceased 
 running about the house, and fussing and sending messages 
 and disagreeing. Mrs. Conway's bell i-ang at intervals, to 
 remind them of something she was sure everybody else 
 would have forgotten, and in the kitchen the cook was in de- 
 spair over ordered dishes she had not the least idea how to 
 accomplish. 
 
 Joanna did her best to help for a time, and then went back 
 to her carving. 
 
 Why would her mother insist on attempting impossibilities, 
 and presenting Lord Meredyth with dishes which necessitated 
 a French cook, and under the present circumstances would be 
 detestable ? 
 
 Polly rushed about in a state of excitement which would 
 soon have brought her to trouble and confinement in the 
 cellar if her grandmother had been at large. 
 
 "Aunt Joanna, there is something dreadful wrong with 
 the jelly. Cook wants to know what she is to do— it is all 
 sploshy." 
 
 " I haven't the least idea," said Joanna. " I know nothing 
 about jelly; ask your mother to go and see it." 
 
 " And I have a letter for you," said Polly ; "but you must 
 choose which hand it is in, and I won't give it to you till you 
 guess right." 
 
 "A letter?" said Joanna. " Why the post isn't in for a 
 couple of hours." 
 
 " It isn't a post letter," said Polly. " It came with a mes- 
 senger. Now, say right or left. Aunt Joanna." 
 
 ' ' Oh, give me the letter, Polly ; it may be to say somebody 
 can't come," said Joanna, who was not in the humour for 
 playing with Polly. 
 
 " No, no, not till you guess," said Polly, dancing out of her 
 reach. 
 
 "I guess right, then, and do give it to me at once like a 
 good child." 
 
 "But it isn't right, so there you are, and you must guess 
 again." 
 
 "Don't be so tiresome, Polly," said Joanna. " Fancy if it is 
 to say that Lord Meredyth can't come ! " 
 
 And at this dreadful possibility Polly yielded at once. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Joanna, take it— how dresidful that would be! " 
 she said. 
 
 Joanna took the letter, and looked at it rather anxiously. 
 Could Lord Meredyth intend to refuse at the last moment ? 
 It was unlike him to be so rude. 
 
 Then all at once her face grew white. 
 
A SELF-BENTINQ OBDINANGE. 265 
 
 There was a pause, during which Polly eyed the unopened 
 letter impatiently. 
 
 "What is the matter, Aunt Joanna," sne said. Why 
 don't you open it ? I want to hear if he is coming." 
 
 " It is not from Lord Meredyth, " said Joanna. ' ' Eun away, 
 dear, and see about the jelly." 
 
 " But you can't know it is not from him till you open it, 
 persisted Polly. 
 
 " Kun away, now," said Joanna again, and something m her 
 voice made the child obey. 
 
 Joanna was alone with her letter. 
 
 What did it mean ? Why had Nicholas written to her, and 
 what was there left to say between them ? 
 
 Nothing but good-bye — was that what was in the letter 
 which she held in her hand ? She tore it open with trembling 
 fingers and sudden breathlessness. 
 
 It was blotted and erased and it was very short and unevenly 
 written. 
 
 "Dear Joanna: 
 
 " I have tried to go away without seeing you, but I can't. I 
 have no right to ask you to speak to me again or to hope you 
 will consent. Will you come to the meadow about nine this 
 evening ? [There was a blot here, and a sentence carefully 
 scratched out.] I don't deserve anything, and it doesn't 
 matter what becomes of me, but if you knew how miserable 
 
 I am [The rest of the sentence was crossed out, and the 
 
 letter ended abruptly :] For God's sake come, darling, 
 
 "Yours ever, 
 
 "Nicholas." 
 
 "Aunt Joanna, the cream won't whip," said Polly, at the 
 door. 
 
 Joanna sprang to her feet and turned the key in the lock. 
 
 For a time at least she must be alone, to think, to resolve, 
 to make up her mind. 
 
 In her secret heart she knew that it was made up already. 
 At whatever cost, Nicholas' appeal should not be unanswered ; 
 but she did not admit to herself that she had decided. 
 
 If she went to meet him, it meant grieving her father, who 
 was doing so much for her now; it meant losing his trust once 
 more, and probably for ever ; it meant even possibly losing her 
 own good name. 
 
 And all the time, Polly kept coming to the door with anx- 
 ious questions and news of disaster. 
 
 "Aunt Joanna, what sash shall I wear ?" 
 
 "Aunt Joanna, is the silver thing to go in the middle of 
 the table?" 
 
266 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 " Aunt Joanna, have you sent Lady Hilda's handkerchiefs 
 to be embroidered ? " 
 
 " Aunt Joanna, Annie has upset the tray and broken nearly 
 all the claret glasses." 
 
 " Aunt Joanna, there are not enough napkins." 
 
 There was some sort of answer to be made through the 
 locked door to these laments. 
 
 There was the dinner party. If Nicholas had ever heard of 
 it, he had forgotten, but it increased Joanna's difHculties a 
 thousand fold. 
 
 Nicholas was unhappy, and he had turned to her for com- 
 fort ; was she to turn away ? 
 
 It was time to dress for dinner. Even were the world, at 
 least her world, to come to an end that night, she could not 
 go down to dinner in a serge dress. 
 
 There was nothing for her to wear but the blue and silver 
 Lady Hilda had given her, and she wondered if Lord Mere- 
 dyth would remember it as well as she did. 
 
 Sentiment must give way before poverty, and it was the one 
 evening dress which was available ; she had always done her 
 best to avoid wearing it, so when her other dresses had reached 
 the stage of being cut down to make frocks for Polly or con- 
 signed to the rag-bag, this had remained to her. 
 
 So she went downstairs to Lord Meredyth and the Miss 
 Kellys, and Dr. Newland. 
 
 It was her part to act hostess, a post which Elizabeth 
 relinquished in view of the carving which would necessarily 
 have fallen to her lot. 
 
 Joanna was too doubtful of Roddy's powers to trust to his 
 efforts. 
 
 She was glad that this meant she would have Lord Mere- 
 dyth beside her. 
 
 " Marcus asked for you in his last letter," said Miss Kelly. 
 " He wrote from Brindisi.." 
 
 " I hope he is having a pleasant voyage," said Joanna 
 politely. 
 
 How was she to escape from all these people after dinner ? 
 Would it be over by nine o'clock ? it was after half-past seven 
 now, and there was no sign of Roddy. 
 
 Joanna found it very hard to attend to the conversation, 
 and to keep her eyes from the door, and she welcomed the 
 announcement of dinner with an unmistakable sigh of relief. 
 
 "You look bothered," said Lord Meredyth, as they went in 
 together. " Nothing has gone wrong about London, I 
 hope?" 
 
 " London?" said Joanna vaguely. "Oh, no, it is all right," 
 she added hastily, and then she knew she must be more 
 careful. 
 
T 8ELF-DENTIFG OBBINANOE. 267 
 
 Everything went fairly well during dinner. Certainly there 
 was a reminiscence of the stables about Roddy, and there were 
 one or two little contretemps about the waiting. Also, the 
 jelly looked odd, and the cream could only be called whipped 
 by a stretch of politeness. . 
 
 But Joanna talked on valiantly, and if she inwardly fumed 
 at the occasional long pauses between the courses, she suc- 
 ceeded in concealing her impatience. 
 
 Polly appeared with dessert, in a high state of excitement 
 and delight, and proceeded to turn for the time being into au 
 enfant terrible of the worst kind. 
 
 She secured herself a seat next Lord Meredyth, for whom she 
 had developed an immense admiration, and selected matri- 
 mony as an agreeable topic. 
 
 Lady Hilda West's approaching wedding had implanted the 
 subject firmly in her small head. 
 
 '' Are you married. Lord Meredyth ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, I am married," he admitted. 
 
 " Did you have a grand wedding — and cake ? " said Polly, 
 with interest. "There is a lovely cake coming in the drawing- 
 room after dinner, and Aunt Joanna has promised that I am 
 to have a bit of it to-morrow for a wedding cake ? " 
 
 Polly looked rather severely at her aunt as she spoke, hav- 
 ing an idea that her consent had been a little forced. 
 
 " Why, Polly, are you going to be married to-morrow ?" 
 said Lord Meredyth. 
 
 "No, not I," said Polly contemptuously. " I am not old 
 enough to be married. But I am going to have a wedding 
 for my kittens, now that they have grown up." 
 
 " Oh, they want to be married, do they ? " 
 
 "I don't know about wanting," said" Polly ; "but I was 
 talking to Annie, and she says if they aren't married they 
 ought to be." 
 
 By which speech she brought confusion not only upon the 
 dinner table but uponthe unlucky Annie, who almost dropped 
 the fruit she was handing. 
 
 " I don't think I ever want to be married," said Polly, help- 
 ing herself to strawberries in the pause ; " but I should like to 
 have babies. Can people have babies without being married. 
 Lord Meredyth ? " 
 
 Joanna rose abruptly with b, crimson face. 
 
 "I have not half finished my strawberries," said Polly, in 
 tones of lamentation, "and, Lord Meredyth, do tell me, can 
 people have babies " 
 
 "You must run away, Polly; it is not proper to stay 
 behind the other ladies," said Lord Meredyth hastily. 
 
 It was ten minutes past nine by the hall clock. Joanna 
 was burning with impatience. 
 
268 A 8ELF-DENTINa OBBINANOE. 
 
 The Kelly girls wanted to talk to her, and time was passing. 
 
 How she got out of the drawing-room she never knew, but 
 she was afraid she must have managed it very abruptly. 
 
 Then she found herself for the moment free — free to draw a 
 cloak over her head, and make her escape in the half light by 
 the other side of the house. 
 
 But by no means free from the chance of discovery. There 
 was nothing to prevent her being seen from the house, noth- 
 ing even to prevent the rest taking it into their heads to stroll 
 out upon such a delicious evening. 
 
 And she was nearly half an hour late — would Nicholas have 
 waited ? 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 "Still thou art blest compared wf me, 
 
 The present only toucheth thee. 
 But, oeh, I backward cast my e'e on prospects drear ! 
 
 An' fonrard tUough I canna see, I guess, and fear." 
 
 " Joanna," said Nicholas, " I began to think you were not 
 coming, and yet I knew you would." 
 
 " I could not get away sooner," said Joanna. " We have 
 people to dinner." 
 
 There was no sort of greeting between them ; he did not 
 even take her hand. They stood together in the stubble, lialf 
 sheltered from the house by a little hay-stack, and at first it 
 seemed as if they had nothing to say to each other. 
 
 "I shouldn't have asked you to come," said Nicholas. "I 
 have been fighting against it till I was nearly m-mad." 
 
 His voice was very low and uncertain, but nothing touched 
 Joanna as much as the sudden diificulty and stammer in his 
 words. It was not too dusky to see tlie whiteness of his face, 
 and the strained look of misery in his blue eyes. 
 
 She remembered the time when he had been to her so far 
 above other men, when she had given him all her love and 
 faith, fearing nothing and keeping back nothing. Just then, 
 for tlie first time, perhaps, she understood all it had cost her. 
 
 Did Nicholas feel as she did that nothing could ever bring 
 them together as they had once been together ? 
 
 "Haven't you anything to say to me, Joanna?" said 
 Nicholas. 
 
 Joanna turned to him with passionate pity. 
 
 "My poor boy," she said softly. 
 
 "You know," said Nicholas, "you must know, that I have 
 never really loved anybody but you. It was a madness which 
 has destroyed both our lives. Joanna, we would have been 
 very happy together, wouldn't we, darling 3 " 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 269 
 
 It was a close, warm evening, and there was a heavy scent 
 of hay in the air. 
 
 " Two yeai-s ago last Tuesday; did you rememher ? " said 
 Nicholas, "and ]ust an evening like this. If we could owZy 
 have the time over again ! " 
 
 There was a long silence. It was not that they had not 
 much to say, but there was not much need to speak. 
 
 Joanna leaned up against the haystack, and Nicholas stood 
 a little way off and looked at her. 
 
 It was she who spoke first. 
 
 "I can't stay long," she said; " and there is so much to say. 
 Nicholas — is it all over — between you and Lady Florence ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Nicholas. For once in his life he was fighting 
 hard against a temptation — a temptation to take Joanna in his 
 arms whether she would or not, to tell her that thei-e was no 
 choice left to her, that he would not let her desert him. 
 
 But she was so completely in his power, so entirely at his 
 mercy. He knew better than she did how much she had 
 risked in coming unliesitatingly to meet him this evening. 
 
 "Oh, what a fool I have been, what a fool I have been !" 
 he cried. "Darling, how can I say good-bye, and yet, what 
 right have I to say anything else ? " 
 
 "You are going to America, are you not ? " said Joanna, in 
 a low, steady voice. 
 
 " Which means in plain English, I am going to the devil," 
 said Nicholas rouglily. 
 
 She paused, drawing her breath quickly. 
 
 " Do you want me to marry you, dear ?" she said. 
 
 There was a long silence. The hay rustled under Joanna's 
 touch, and through the open drawing-room window a sudden 
 bui'st of laughter came floating to them. 
 
 Joanna neither stirred nor flushed; she had counted the 
 cost and made her offer, and it was for him to decide. 
 
 " Oh, don't tempt me ! " said Nicholas hoarsely. 
 
 " I have thought it over," she said gravely, "ever since I 
 got your letter. If you think I should be a help to you— I 
 couldn't let you go alone." 
 
 "Oh, my darling, my darling !" cried Nicholas passion- 
 ately. " I shouldn't let you spoil your life. I am a selfish 
 brute to let you do it ? " 
 
 And he came close to her, catching her hand, and trying to 
 take her in his arms. But Joanna drew back with a shiver. 
 
 How long was it since he had taken Lady Florence in his 
 arms ? 
 
 " Don't, please, Nicholas," she said. " We can't be happy 
 like other people — I don't think we shall ever be very happy, 
 dear." 
 
 "I shall be happy if I have you," said Nicholas. "Oh, mj 
 18 
 
270 A SELF-BENTIKG ORBIXA^'CE. 
 
 darling, tny darling:, ^ovr I love you! I never knew how 
 much I loved you before. My sweetheart, I swear you shall 
 never be sorry. I will work for you — I will work so hard for 
 you." 
 
 "Nicholas, it is terrible when you talk like that," said 
 Joanna, with quivering lips. " Can't you see that words like 
 that seem a sin between us " 
 
 " No, I cannot," said Nicholas, " if we ai'e going to be mar- 
 ried. Darling, when will you marry me ? " 
 
 He was a different man now, with a colour in his face, and 
 eyes shining with hope. He had thrown trouble and care 
 behind him, and the pain in Joanna's face was incomprehen- 
 sible to him. 
 
 There was nothing to separate them now, and why would 
 she not be happy ? 
 
 He had begun to build castles in the air already. 
 
 "I will marry you whenever you like," Joanna said ; "but 
 don't kiss me, Nicholas ; let me go, please." 
 
 " But you will meet me here again to-morrow ? " 
 
 Could he not understand ? Had he not the slightest com- 
 prehension of the feelings with which she had consented to 
 marry him ? 
 
 "I shall tell my father to-morrow," said Joanna; "but I 
 can't come to meet you again, Nicholas." 
 
 "And your father will never agree," he burst out in sudden 
 alarm. 
 
 ' ' I have never failed you, Nicholas, have I ? I promise 
 that I will marry you if you wish. If in the morning you 
 think otherwise, dear " 
 
 " Joanna, you know I shall not ! " 
 
 "But if you do " 
 
 "You must trust me," Nicholas said hotly. "You want 
 me to trust you, and yet you won't believe in me in the least." 
 
 Trust him ? Joanna knew only too well that try as she 
 might she could trust him never again. But what was the 
 use of hurting him by pointing out the difference ? 
 
 That was one of the burdens which she must take up ; there 
 could never again be perfect confidence between them ; there 
 must always be some words left unsaid, and some thoughts 
 unspoken. 
 
 Nicholas had almost forgotten Lady Florence ; he could 
 not understand, or at least he would not understand why 
 things could not at once be as they had been. He rebelled 
 utterly at the idea of not seeing Joanna again till there had 
 been time to arrange their marriage. Why should he not see 
 her ? What was the meaning of such an idea ? 
 
 And when she turned away to go back to the house, he 
 refused to let her leave him without farewell. 
 
A SELF-DENTINO ORDIKAJSCE. 271 
 
 "Wby -won't you let me kiss you, darling ? What differ- 
 ence can it possibly make ? " be said; and Joanna paused, and 
 thought to herself, what difPerence did it make, indeed ? If 
 he did not understand — if he did not see for himself the 
 reason, why should she pain him ? 
 
 But when she walked up to the house again, she was not 
 like a girl who had parted from her lover. 
 
 What possible good or happiness could come of their 
 marriage now ? 
 
 And yet how could she stand aside, and see the man to 
 whom she had promised to be faithful, going to destruction, 
 from which there was at least a chance that slie might save 
 him ? Such as he was, she had once taken him for hers, and 
 though everybody else in the world had deserted him, and 
 given up hope of him, it was not for her to desert him or to 
 give up hope. 
 
 She looked at the clock when she came in, and it was only 
 ten. 
 
 The men had just come in to the drawing-room, and there 
 was a little buzz of conversation. Elizabeth had not changed 
 her seat, and Miss Kelly was stijl looking over a book of 
 photographs she had taken up before Joanna went out. 
 
 This half hour had meant so little to them, and it had 
 changed her whole life. 
 
 Mr. Conway was talking to Lord Meredyth, and looking 
 wonderfully bright and cheerful. How would he look to- 
 morrow when she told him ? What would he say — what 
 would everybody say ? 
 
 "Joanna, where have you been?" said Elizabeth. "Miss 
 Kelly wants to see some of your carvings." 
 
 And then Joanna had to bring down some of her latest 
 work, and listen to extremely ignorant admiration, while 
 Lord Meredyth, who had seen them before, talked still to her 
 father. 
 
 The Kellys spoke of London, of course, and of Joanna's 
 future life there, and she had to answer and smile and look 
 pleased, and wonder what they would think of her if they 
 knew where she had been that evening. 
 
 Lord Meredyth lingered a little behind the rest. 
 
 "Miss Conway," he said, "I shall be very much surprised 
 if you don't make a name for yourself. I have not seen 
 many things I like as well as that panel in your hand." 
 
 ' ' Will you take it, then — ^please take it, " said Joanna eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, I certainly cannot do that. I should like 
 you to show it to your master, when you have decided upon 
 - him." 
 
 " But I would much rather you would have it," said 
 Joanna urgently. " I do wish you would take it." 
 
272 A SELF-DENTINO OBDINANCE. 
 
 But Lord Meredyth was firm. This was the one he particu- 
 larly wished Joanna to have with her to show. 
 
 "Lord Meredyth has been more than civil," said Mr. Con- 
 way in a pleased tone. "He says his wife will call on you, 
 Joanna, when you go to London ; it will be very nice for you 
 to have them." 
 
 " When she went to London ! " 
 
 Joanna collected her carvings in silence. 
 
 Should she tell him now ? But to-morrow would be soon 
 enough ; he was so particularly pleased with the world 
 to-night. 
 
 "Good-night, father," she said, and then she went to her 
 room with lingering footsteps. 
 
 There were so many carvings in all directions, Joanna felt 
 that she could not go to bed with them before her as a 
 reproach. , 
 
 She gathered them together hastily, thrusting them out of 
 sight in a drawer, leaving her room strangely bare and vacant. 
 There was only left her present work — a large mirror frame 
 which would not fit into the drawer. There were birds upon 
 it, a whole flight of swallows at the top, with one only half 
 finished, as she had left it when Nicholas' letter came. It 
 would never be finished now ; whether she carved ever again 
 or not, she would carve no more at that panel. 
 
 She took it up and turned it with its face to the wall. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 " Time mleB us all. And Life indeed is not 
 The thing we planned it out ere hope was dead, 
 And then we women cannot choose our lot." 
 
 Against her own expectations, Joanna slept soundly all 
 night. 
 
 It was settled ; all the uncertainty was over, and the doubts 
 which had perplexed her ever since she had known that 
 Nicholas was to be sent away hopeless and alone. 
 
 Whatever their future might be, it was to be spent together, 
 and about this future she did not make herself illusions. It 
 would be a life of constant anxiety and struggle, struggle in 
 which she might not be successful. It might well be that she 
 would not be able to keep Nicholas steady and true to her, and 
 in that case, what would be the end of it all ? 
 
 But if the etfort was not made, how could she, all her life 
 long, forgive herself ? 
 
 Joanna went downstairs to breakfast, grave, but very quiet 
 and resolute. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 273 
 
 The sooner that everything was over the better; she was 
 feverishly impatient to get the words to her father said. 
 
 Breakfast was not a long meal at Cliff House, and yet to- 
 day it seemed endless. 
 
 Mr. Conway, who had no reason for impatience, lingered 
 over his, being in a particularly cheerful frame of mind, and 
 Polly, in the absence of Mrs. Conway's repressive presence, 
 chattered away unceasingly about the excitements of the even- 
 ing before. Then there were trays to be sent up to Mrs. Con- 
 way and Elizabeth, and on the part of the latter, various 
 instructions to be attended to, as to what she considered tempt- 
 uig and desirable. 
 
 But to everything an end comes, and there came a time 
 at last when Polly danced away to feed the chickens, with 
 an expressed rejoicing at the absence of prayers, for which 
 Joanna made a faint effort to rebuke her, and Mr. Conway, 
 having glanced at the paper, folded it up and prepared to 
 betake himself to the oflBce. 
 
 "Father," said Joanna, " I want to speak to you.'' 
 
 "Well!" said Mr. Conway. " Anything about London? 
 I daresay I may hear to-day ; what do you say to your put- 
 ting on your hat and walking down to the office with me to 
 see if there is a letter. Your carving can wait half an hour, I 
 daresay." i 
 
 "It is not about London or my carving," said Joanna. 
 "Father, I have to tell you something that I am afraid will 
 vex you very much, and make you very angry with me." 
 
 Mr. Conway's face changed ; there was no mistaking her 
 earnestness; something serious was certainly wrong. 
 
 Joanna would have liked to approach the subject gradually ; 
 she had no wish at all to make a dramatic point; she had tried 
 to make up her mind beforehand how her father could best be 
 told what must be told, but now every idea had gone out of 
 her head, everything, except a longing to get it over. 
 
 " Father, I have promised to marry Nicholas," she said. 
 
 She did not dare to look at Mr. Conway; she sat still in her 
 place at table, nervously crumbling the remains of the bit of 
 toast, which had been her sole breakfast this morning. 
 
 Mr. Conway heard her with a dismay which amounted to 
 incredulity. 
 
 It was absolutely impossible that Joanna could mean what 
 she said ; it was equally impossible that she could jest on such 
 a subject. What could she mean ? 
 
 " Joanna," he said, " are you mad ? What are you talking 
 about ! " 
 
 "It is true." 
 
 " Then I have understood you wrong." 
 
 "No, father. I have promised to marry Nicholas." 
 
274 A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Something in her tone carried conviction to her father. 
 He looked at her with such horror, such despair in his eyes, 
 that tears sprang into Joanna's. 
 
 "Joanna," he said, " if you will tell me at once that you do 
 not mean what you say, I will forgive you the bad taste of 
 your words, I will forgive you even — any fancies you may 
 have had." 
 
 " You must believe what I say — oh, do believe it and get 
 it over," cried Joanna with miserable impatience. 
 
 "I am to believe what you say," Mr. Oonway repeated 
 slowly. "Joanna, I would rather see you dead than married 
 to that man ! Have you no pride or self-respect ? " 
 
 Joanna said nothing. 
 
 " Why, tlie woman for whom he threw you aside has 
 scarcely left him — it is wicked— it is simply indecent 1 As 
 you are my own child, Joanna, I cannot believe my ears, and 
 this I tell you, that as long as I live, you shall never speak to 
 the scoundrel again." 
 
 Joanna was silent still. What was the use of speech ? 
 
 " Are you willing to be cast off and taken up at that young 
 man's pleasure — to be thrown aside whenever a fresher face 
 takes his fancy, and to rush back to his arms with hot hasle 
 when he holds up his finger ? You may think I put it 
 coarsely, but no words are coarse enough for the thing you 
 think of doing. There can't be a spark of love left in your 
 heart for such a scoundrel, and if it is a title you want, you 
 will find you are paying rather dearly for it. You never 
 shall marry him — do you hear me; you never shall ! " 
 
 " I have promised," Joanna said. 
 
 "You have promised ! And when was this fine promise 
 made ? When you met him, still living with another 
 woman— the lover of another woman ? God help us all, it is 
 a very black business. It seems to me we have known very 
 little about you, Joanna." 
 
 Mr. Conway sat down, and leaned his head on his band, 
 looking utterly crushed and depressed. 
 
 " It was last night," said Joanna. 
 
 "And where may you have seen him last night ?" 
 
 " In the meadow, after dinner." 
 
 " Oh, the plot is unfolding;," said Mr. Conway, in an altered 
 tone. "So you have been m the habit of meeting him? I 
 congratulate you on the way you have managed it all. I see 
 you looked upon his elopement with Lady Florence Delacque 
 as a mere trifle — nothing that need interfere between you — 
 that was it, wasn't it ? " he ended with a short, forced laugh. 
 
 "Oh, father!" cried Joanna. "I never met him but 
 once " 
 
 " Don't say any more ; I can't believe you," said Mr. Con- 
 
A SELF-DENTING OKDINANVE. '-iio 
 
 •wayroughly. " When I think of how you have fooled us all — 
 of how I have gone on planning for you, and you have gone 
 on pretending to enter into my plans, all the time laughing 
 at our simplicity with your lover, I daresay. Oh, yes, you 
 have acted your part very well indeed ! " 
 
 " But,' father^ " 
 
 " Not another word — I will not listen to another word ! I 
 have not patience to speak to you. Leave me, Joanna, at 
 once, and do not let me see you again till you come to tell 
 me that this madness has heen given up." 
 
 Joanna walked slowly out of the room. If she was not to 
 see him again till this had been given up, she would see him 
 again — never. 
 
 She weut straight upstairs to her mother ; the story had 
 better be told at once, while she was steady and composed, 
 and felt that nothing that anybody could say would make her 
 any the more miserable. 
 
 The worst was over. Mrs. Conway's words fell more 
 lightly upon her ; the lightest of offences evoked such a 
 storm from her mother, that now, when the matter was so 
 very serious, there was nothing fresh left to be said. 
 
 Joanna had heard much what she heard now a hundred 
 times before; she had only to listen to the end in silence, and 
 then go away to her room and lock herself in. But to-day 
 she could not turn to her carving for comfort ; she had 
 abandoned it, and the thought of it reproached her as if it had 
 been a living thing. 
 
 It was a long, long day. Joanna stayed in her room, and 
 sometimes tried to read and sometimes to work. Elizabeth 
 heard, and came to see her, to dilate upon the wickedness of 
 mankind, to ask her if she was content to take anotlier 
 woman's leavings, to represent to her the scandal she would 
 create and Nicholas' unworthiness. 
 
 Then came Polly, desperately agitated and anxious to find 
 out what was the matter and why she was forbidden to go to 
 Aunt Joanna, and afterward Mrs. Conway, with an inter- 
 cepted letter of Nicholas' in her hand, imploring Joanna to 
 see him in the meadow once again. It was of no use for her 
 to tell her mother that she would not have gone, so she held 
 her peace, and listened to the hard words in silence. It 
 seemed to her just then tliat she minded nothing. 
 
 In the afternoon came Miss Clarke on an errand of kind- 
 ness; Joanna was meeting Sir Nicholas in the evenings. Did 
 Mrs. Conway know ? Miss Clarke had thought it her duty to 
 warn her, lest worse might come of it. 
 
 And so Joanna's delinquencies found their way to the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 Mr. Conway said nothing more to her, not even when they 
 
276 A BELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 met at high tea that evening. He gave her one quick, enquir- 
 ing look, then he turned away, and ate what she gave him in 
 gloomy silence. 
 
 When the time came to say good-night, she could bear it no 
 longer. 
 
 "Father,'' she said, " won't you think the best you can of 
 me?" 
 
 " The best way to make me think you are sorry is to tell 
 me you have given up all idea of this wicked marriage," said 
 Ml'. Conway. 
 
 "I can't say that," said Joanna, drawing back. 
 
 " You may as well give way at first as at last," said Mr. 
 Couway, turning away. "You are my daughter, and I will 
 never permit you to disgrace yourself." 
 
 There was nothing more to be said between them just then. 
 
 CHAPTER LXH. 
 
 " Well, and if none of these good things came, 
 What did the failure prove ? 
 The man was my whole world, all the same, 
 With his flowers to praise, or his weeds to blame. 
 And, either or both, to love." 
 
 Lord Meredyth appeared at Cliff House next morning 
 before Mr. Conway had gone to his office. 
 
 He was very much disturbed. 
 
 " Mr. Conway," he said, " I hope there is no truth in what 
 Osborne has been telling me ? " 
 
 Mr. Conway shook his head with a movement of utter 
 depression. 
 
 " You agree with me that it is not to be heard of, that it is 
 absolute lunacy ? " he said. 
 
 "It is nothing more nor less than the destruction of your 
 daughter's life in a mad effort to save a man who can t be 
 saved, and isn't worth saving," said Meredyth hotly. " I can't 
 tell you what I think of Osborne. I spoke to him this morn- 
 ing about his start to-morrow, and then he turned to me coolly 
 and informed me that he could not leave so soon, and gave me 
 his reason— just as if he thought I should be immensely pleased." 
 
 Mr. Conway sighed heavily. 
 
 "I wish you would speak to Joanna," he said. "Perhaps 
 she would listen to you. I have had a long talk with her 
 since breakfast this morning, but I can do nothing." 
 
 " But something must be done," said Lord Meredyth. " She 
 must be prevented from marrying him at any cost. He is not 
 a fit man for her to marry." 
 
~" A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 211 
 
 It was easy for him to speak trenchantly, Mr. Conway 
 thought, but what was to be done ? He knew only too well 
 that an idea which had once entered into Joanna's head was 
 not easily dislodged. 
 
 Neitlier was it likely that Lord Meredyth would prevail 
 when he had himself so utterly failed; but it was not a time 
 to abandon even the faintest hope, and the young man him- 
 self seemed so confident. 
 
 Indeed to Lord Meredyth it seemed impossible that Joanna 
 would not let herself be moved by the common-sense view of 
 the question. 
 
 The girl was no fool, and she was in full possession of her 
 faculties. 
 
 "If she will see me, I will do my best," he said. "Miss 
 Conway and I have always been good friends." 
 
 And, somewhat to her father's surprise, Joanna consented 
 at once, and even eagerly. 
 
 " I should like to see him if I can see him alone," she said ; 
 and when she went to him in the drawing-room she greeted 
 him readily and without embarrassment. Just then she had 
 got past embarrassment. 
 
 The blinds were all down in the drawing-room, in consider- 
 ation of the furniture, so it was cold, though there was plenty 
 of sun outside. Joanna drew up a blind, and then Lord 
 Meredyth could see how white her face was, and what dark 
 rings there were under her grave brown eyes. 
 
 "I am glad to see you. Lord Meredyth," she said. " I can 
 say to you what I don't like to say to my father." 
 
 "But I must warn you. Miss Conway, that I completely 
 agree with him." 
 
 "Yes, but this is what I want to say : My father says he 
 will not consent to my marriage with Nicholas. I can't bear 
 to say this to him, but, he can't prevent it. I shall be twenty- 
 two my next birthday." 
 
 " If I was your father, I should work heaven and earth to 
 prevent such a marriage," Lord Meredyth said. " Miss 
 Conway, you cannot think it right to throw away your 
 life in this fashion. Nicholas deserves nothing from 
 you." 
 
 " I don't know if I can make you understand how I feel," 
 said Joanna. 
 
 She had been standing by the window, absently looking 
 out towards the meadow, but now she turned away, and took 
 a chair by the table. 
 
 " When I promised to marry Nicholas, I felt from that day 
 as much bound to him as if I had been his wife already. I 
 promised to be true to him for ever — not only so long as he 
 was true to me." 
 
278 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 Lord Meredyth did not answer at onco ; the words were not 
 his idea of love, and did not please him. 
 
 "Joanna," he said, after a pause, "you say you feel as 
 mucli bound to him as if you were his wife. But, if you had 
 been his wife, and he had — had treated you as lie has done — 
 you would not have taken him back. Why should you treat 
 him better than that ? " 
 
 "In such things," Joanna answered unhesitatingly, "every- 
 body must think out the riglit for themselves. Once I 
 believed that that was a thing no man could be forgiven. 
 Lord Meredyth, I can't say what I mean very well, but I know 
 what I mean. Nicholas is mine, my own, to make the best of." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you can care for him after the 
 way he has acted ? Do you mean to say that you can forgive 
 him ? Miss Conway, I must tell you plainly, 1 do not admire 
 forgiveness carried to this excess; it is too much like weak- 
 ness. Do you expect to reform Nicholas ? " 
 
 " I am going to try, at least," said Joanna, in a low voice. 
 
 "I thinTc'you are acting wrongly," said Lord Meredyth. 
 " You have a good prospect before you of making your life 
 useful, and you have no right to ruin it and fling it away for 
 a sentimental idea." 
 
 " I don't know whether it is a sentimental idea or not," said 
 Joanna, " but I know that it is too late to say all these things 
 to me. I can't go back and start my life fresh again ; I can't 
 feel like other girls who have had nothing go wrong with 
 them. The harm has been done, and I shall be as happy with 
 Nicholas as I could be anywhere else. He has nobody out me, 
 and I think I sjiall be able to help him. I shall have such 
 patience with him, you don't know how patient I shall be. 
 Lord Meredyth ! If I failed him now, as long as I lived I 
 should never forgive myself." 
 
 Lord Meredyth was touched, but not convinced. 
 
 " Joanna," he said, "if Nicholas were like fifty young men 
 I know, perhaps I should have no right to say any more. But 
 he is worse than unsteady. I must speak out for this once, 
 though I don't like to do it. He doesn't always run straight. 
 He has got into very disgraceful trouble over cards and racing. 
 He is not a fit man for a good girl to marry." 
 
 Joanna bent her head in a sudden agony of humiliation, 
 but she answered steadily enough, though her voice was very 
 low. 
 
 "He needs me all the more. Nothing can come between 
 us now. It has gone bejrond that." 
 
 "Then I have only this to say to you, and you must forgive 
 me for speaking very plainly. Whatever right you may have 
 to destroy your own life, there are other lives that you have 
 no right to injure. You may have children." 
 
A SELF-DENTINO pRDINANCE. 279 
 
 Joanna did not flush. 
 
 "I amnotachild, Lord Meredyth," she said; "and I have 
 thought of that. I thought of everything till I was nearly 
 mad, before I said I vpould marry Nicholas. I don't say that 
 I am right, or that a better girl in my place would not act 
 differently, but I am quite sure that I can do nothing else. 
 Please, Lord Meredyth, will you believe that nothing you or 
 anybody else can say will change me, and will you make my 
 father believe it too ? " 
 
 " Then you are giving up your carving and all your hopes 
 and ambitions ? Do you know what a terribly hard life you 
 are choosing ? Do you realise it ? " 
 
 " I am strong," said Joanna. " Will you tell Nicholas that 
 he can make what arrangements he likes; that I will marry 
 him when and where he pleases, but that till then I can't see 
 him — I can't, he must not ask me ! " 
 
 Lord Meredyth had not said one-half of tVie things he had 
 ■wished to say, but he had said enough to see that speech was 
 of no use. 
 
 " Will nothing I can say or do have any effect ? " he said. 
 " Will nothing that I can tell you of Nicholas' unfitness be of 
 any use ? " 
 
 "Nothing," said Joanna, with the faintest of smiles. " I am 
 very obstinate when I have made up my mind. Will you try 
 and make the best of it to my father ? It is so hard for him, 
 and he has been so very good to me. I think he had as much 
 hope about London as I had." 
 
 Which was Joanna's only approach to a spoken regret for 
 the life she was giving up. 
 
 CHAPTER LXni. 
 
 " Being observed, 
 When obseiTation is not sympathy, 
 Is just being tortured. If she said a word, 
 A " Thank yon," or an " If it please you, dear," 
 She meant a commination, or. at best, 
 An exorcism against the devildom 
 Which plainly held me. So with all the house." 
 
 There was nothing to be done — absolutely nothing. 
 
 Having failed with Joanna, Meredyth turned to Nicholas, 
 but he was as unsuccessful here. He could not bring himself 
 to bribe his brother-in-law with offers and promises, and if he 
 had done so, it would have been of no use. Nicholas was 
 hotly impatient to be married to Joanna ; he was angry 
 because she steadily refused to see him, but this only made 
 
280 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 him the more eager. The episode of Lady Florence had 
 almost faded out of his memory, and his good spirits had 
 returned. He had persuaded himself into a very rosy view of 
 the position ; he had been a fooj certainly, and he had treated 
 Joanna very badly, but now he was making her the only pos- 
 sible reparation in his power, and wheij they vv^ere married it 
 ■would be all right. 
 
 He had already fully persuaded himself that his late con- 
 duct to her had not been prompted by selfishness, but by a 
 noble desire for her good. 
 
 He had not the smallest doubt that they would be very 
 happy. Ranch life would just suit Joanna — she could have 
 her bees and her chickens and her potato fields. 
 
 He had conveniently foi'gotten that with her, bees, chickens, 
 and farming had been as means to an end, and not as the end 
 itself. 
 
 So Nicholas at least was happy, but with Joanna it was 
 different. 
 
 Everybody was against her — everybody, except perhaps 
 Polly, who did not understand. 
 
 Somehow, perhaps through Miss Clarke, the news spread in 
 the village, and caused an immense scandal there. 
 
 Mrs. Moreland and Miss Chester both came up to represent 
 their view of the case to Joanna, and were admitted to private 
 interviews by Mrs. Conway, with a view to leaving no stone 
 unturned. 
 
 Mrs. Moreland said she had known Joanna from infancy, 
 and had never thought she would be willing to bring down 
 the gray hairs of her father and mother with sorrow to the 
 grave. Had she forgotten the seventh commandment, and 
 was she willing to entrust her future life to one who had wil- 
 fully broken it ? Had she also forgotten the fifth ? 
 
 Miss Chester said she could not believe what she had heai-d. 
 Did not Joanna know that everybody said she was making 
 very little of herself ? Sir Nicholas was a handsome fellow, 
 but a girl ought to respect herself, and people were inclined to 
 say that Joanna had thrown herself at the young man's head 
 again, because he was a baronet and good-looking. 
 
 This, from Miss Chester, who in her numerous flirtations 
 was popularly reported to go more than half way', had an 
 extra bitterness. 
 
 But outsiders' interference was a slight trouble when com- 
 pared to the daily misery of facing her own family. 
 
 She had not even her carving to comfort her now, for she 
 could not bear to touch it, could not bear even to think of it. 
 
 Mrs. Conway talked to her constantly, and when she did 
 not talk to her she talked at her ; her father said very little, 
 but he looked at her sometimes with a trouble in his eyes, 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 281 
 
 which was worse to her than anything else. Polly followed 
 her about, studying her anxiously, noting the strain in the 
 household, and that Joanna carved no more, but asking no 
 questions. 
 
 Even Elizabeth aroused herself from a complication of dis- 
 eases to express her opinion to her sister. 
 
 It was on Saturday evening, when Joanna had discovered 
 the discomfort of the drawing-room to be more than she could 
 bear, and had escaped up to her room to sit by her window 
 with a book on her knee. What a long, long time it was 
 since Wednesday, and for how much longer would these 
 dreary, purposeless days go on ? 
 
 Everything seemed to have come to a deadlock, and it was 
 becoming more and more evident to Joanna that if she in- 
 tended to mari'y Nicholas she must give up all hope of even 
 the most grudging consent from her people, and either see him 
 or commission him to take matters into his own hands. 
 
 Among these thoughts came Elizabeth, with her soft voice 
 and her pretty, peevish face. 
 
 "Joanna," she said, " I have come to see what I can do." 
 
 "Oh, Elizabeth," Joanna said snappishly, " if I could only 
 convince you all that you can do nothing — nothing but make 
 me miserable ! " 
 
 Mrs. Morris drew up another chair to the window, and 
 seated herself with deliberation. 
 
 "Do you think we can all stand aside and see this madness 
 go on ?" she said. " You see how my life has been wrecked. 
 Joanna, you are a child — a baby — you don't see what you are 
 doing." 
 
 "I think I do," said Joanna. "You may say, Elizabeth, 
 that I did not know what I was doing when I first agreed to 
 marry Nicholas two years ago. That is quite true — I did not. 
 But what has happened to me can't happen to a girl and leave 
 her a child still. My eyes were torn open for me." 
 
 " And yet you will take no warning ? " said Elizabeth plain- 
 tively. " You imagine that you will be able to keep that man 
 true to you when you are married, when you could not keep 
 him true befoi'e ? " 
 
 "I think I shall be able to keep him true," said Joanna. 
 " I understood nothing before and I feared nothing." 
 
 "That is all very well," said Elizabeth. "You will think 
 all is going well, and some day you will find out — and then 
 you will come home as I came " 
 
 Joanna shook her head to herself; she would never come 
 home as her sister had done. 
 
 "But, after all, you can forgive what I could never bring 
 myself to forgive," Elizabeth added, shrugging her shoulders. 
 '■ Do you understand this, Joanna— Sir Nicholas Osborne is a 
 
282 A 8ELF-BENYIN0 ORDIFANCE. 
 
 passionate man and a man who is not likely to let anytliingr 
 stand between him and what he wishes " 
 
 "It is much better not to say tilings that cannot be for- 
 gotten, Elizabeth," said Joanna, "as whatever Nicholas may 
 be, I am going to marry him." 
 
 "If you would only wait a little,'' said Elizabeth; "you 
 would forget it all in a few years ; you would go to London, 
 the Meredyths would be sure to take you up, and you would 
 probably end by marrying a man. in as good a position as Sir 
 Nicholas, or better." 
 
 Then Joanna sprang up from her seat with nervous im- 
 patience. 
 
 "Oh, I can't stand any more!" she cried. "Elizabeth, I 
 have talked and argued till I am nearly out of my senses. Do, 
 do please, go away and give me up 1 " 
 
 And Elizabeth indignantly went. 
 
 Forget all about it in a few years — would that undo it all 
 and make everything as if it had never happened? Could 
 those two years be washed away out of her life as if they had 
 never been, and leave her cheek free for another man's kisses, 
 her ears to listen to the same words from another man ? 
 Nicholas absolutely blotted out of her life, and another man 
 with a right to her thoughts and love ! 
 
 Elizabeth had said she might marry somebody else. 
 
 She might pick up her life, and piece it together as well as 
 she could, and then give it to somebody else— some good man, 
 perliaps, who would deserve all love and trust. 
 
 But Joanna knew that this was the worst thing which had 
 happened to her — as long as she lived she could never trust 
 any man again — not though she tried her hardest, not though 
 her mind convinced her that her trust was deserved, not 
 though she struggled with her whole strength to gain it. 
 
 If there was to he any marriage in her life, it was better then 
 that she should marry Nicholas, with whom she need nevei' 
 reproach herself for this hidden want of faith. 
 
 Was it a sacrifice to give up the life she had planned out for 
 herself, for his sake? Joanna did not know, and she had 
 never asked herself the question clearly. 
 
 That evening she wrote a short note to Lord Meredyth ask- 
 ing him to come over to see her at church time next day ; it 
 was the only time when she could be sure of seeing him alone. 
 
 It was in all probability her last Sunday at home, and she 
 got up in the morning with this knowledge lying like a heavy 
 weight on her mind. 
 
 For the last time there were her collect and gospel to be 
 learned. 
 
 They were not so diflBcult now as they had heen in past 
 years, for with each there was a lingering memory of having 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 283 
 
 been learned many times before; but this Sunday she wished 
 to have them specially perfect and without mistakes. 
 
 Though she succeeded, her mother heard them in silence, 
 and Joanna wondered did she, too, think and remember that 
 never, never again would Joanna come and stand before her 
 to repeat her lesson as she had done ever since she was able 
 to stand. 
 
 Nobody asked Joanna if she was going to church; she fas- 
 tened Polly's jacket and put a pin in Elizabeth's placket hole 
 by way of security, and then she saw them all start, witli an 
 intense desire to tell Mrs. Conway that her dress was crooked. 
 
 After which she wandered up and down the avenue waiting 
 for Lord Meredyth. 
 
 He came very soon, in knickerbockers and gaiters, which 
 did not look at all like Sunday, and he greeted her kindly, 
 but without his usual smile. 
 
 They went to the garden, to Joanna's favourite seat by her 
 beeliives, where Lord Meredyth had never been before. 
 
 "Thanks for coming," she said. "This seat was painted 
 the other day — I wonder is it dry." 
 
 " It is all right — which end will you have ? I should have 
 come this afternoon, at any rate, to say good-bye, as I must go 
 back to London to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow — oh! " said Joanna, with a cry of dismay. 
 
 "Is there anything you want me to do?" Lord Meredyth 
 said. " I am afraid I must absolutely be in London on Tues- 
 day, but " 
 
 " Oh, it is nothing," Joanna said. "It was only a fancy — I 
 thought perhaps you might have gone to Belfast with me. It 
 seems — but it was only a fancy." 
 
 "To Belfast?" 
 
 " We are to be married there some day this week. We 
 thought of Derry at first, but it is too near." 
 
 " And you have settled all this ? " 
 
 " Yes, we have written to each other. Don't you agree that 
 the sooner it is over the better for everybody ? Only a special 
 license costs — I mean how long does it take to arrange about 
 that kind of marriage ? " 
 
 Joanna had checked herself ; it would not do to express to 
 Lord Meredyth her doubts of Nicholas' right to expend money 
 in this way. 
 
 He looked at her. She was so young and so forlorn as she 
 sat there beside him, and yet so resolute, for all the tired lines 
 about her eyes. 
 
 "Look here, Joanna," he said, " if this marriage must take 
 place, at least why not wait for a year ? Let Nicholas go out, 
 and see what the place is like, and make a home for you, and 
 then " 
 
284 A SELF-BENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 Joanna turned her steady brown eyes on liis face. ^^ 
 
 " If I were to put off my going for a year," she said, you 
 know and I know that I should probably go — never." 
 
 Then for the first time Meredyth felt certain that she knew 
 what she was about— she was making for herself no illusion 
 about Nicholas. 
 
 ''1 must go out with him now," Joanna went on, "and, 
 Lord Meredyth, I have not spoken of it to Nicholas yet, but 
 when we have got a home, in a year or two, we will send for 
 the child — Nicholas' child." 
 
 Lord Meredyth did not answer at once ; was it necessary 
 that this burden, too, should be placed on Joanna's shoulders? 
 
 "Do you think," she said anxiously, " that I should take 
 it at once? I do not feel as if I could, and while it is so little, 
 it will be happy anywhere, won't it? " 
 
 " You ^oor child! " Lord Meredyth said. " Look here, Jo- 
 anna, I see that nothing will make you change your mind, 
 so let us make the best of a bad business. Let me take you 
 back to London with me, to-morrow, and you can be married 
 from our house. It will be best — it will be much the best 
 thing to do. '' 
 
 " Oh," cried Joanna, with tears in her eyes, " how good you 
 are — how very good you are ! " 
 
 Not even in her thoughts did she form the comparison to 
 herself, but it was vaguely there all the same — what a differ- 
 ence there was ! How undoubtingly the woman who had 
 married Lord Meredyth might look to" him for help. 
 
 " I will speak to your father," he said. "I am sure, with 
 me, he will see it is the only thing to be done. Can you be 
 ready to start to-morrow? I would give you more time if I 
 could." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can be ready," said Joanna. 
 
 There was only one drawback, and it seemed such an in- 
 adequate reason to give — want of clothes. 
 
 " Well, then, we won't say another word on the subject at 
 present," said Lord Meredyth. "Let us go in, and find a 
 glass of wine for you. You look to me as if you needed it 
 badly." 
 
 " But all the wine is locked up, " said Joanna. " And father 
 has taken the keys to church with him." 
 
 " Then let us go for a walk by the river,'' said Lord Mere- 
 dyth. " But of Sir Nicholas and his affairs there shall not 
 be another word this morning." 
 
A 8ELF-DBNYINa OBDINANCE. 285 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange, 
 And be all to me ? " 
 
 The last day — the very last morning. 
 
 Everything had heen decided in such a hurry, and there 
 was so much to be done that Joanna had not much time for 
 thought. 
 
 Nobody either helped or hindered her in any way, and Mrs. 
 Conway contented herself with simply ignoring the fact of 
 her approaching departure. 
 
 Joanna had few clothes, and fewer boxes; this time she 
 could not take those belonging to the rest of her family. 
 
 There was a yellow tin box, which, much against her will, 
 had been purchased for her tp take to school, but which she 
 could not bear to use now ; it seemed to her as if it would add 
 something comic to the whole matter. 
 
 With Annie's help she unearthed a trunk and a portman- 
 teau, the first belonging to her, and the second to nobody 
 in particular, 
 
 Polly followed her about with an armful of kittens, blind, 
 helpless little morsels of fur, legitimised by her efforts only 
 twenty-four hours before their appearance in the world. 
 
 Rumours of contemplated murder had reached Polly's ears, 
 and she was doing her best to safeguard the lives of her 
 treasures. But the mother, who did not know her motives, 
 was far from pleased by her attention, and followed her about 
 complainingly, getting into everybody's way, and having 
 various narrow escapes as the trunks bumped down the attic 
 stairs. 
 
 Joanna packed after a desultory fashion all morning. There 
 was so much to be done and to be thought of. 
 
 For a long time she meditated over her carving; then she 
 decided to take it; some of it, at least, might be sold, and if 
 she had any time to spare on this indefinite future ranch, per- 
 haps she might be able to make a little money in this way. 
 
 Only it took a great deal of room in her trunk, and it was 
 very heavy. 
 
 She could not bring herself to go down to the village to say 
 good-bye, but everybody had somehow or other found out she 
 was going, and a good many people came up. 
 
 Among others, Mrs. McCracken, who left her shop to take 
 care of itself, and came up to weep and lament over her. 
 Where was she going to ? When would she come back 3 
 Questions to which Joanna could return no definite reply. 
 Only her own people said nothing. 
 39 
 
286 A 8ELF-DEN7ING ORDINANCE. 
 
 When everything was put together, and the portmanteau, 
 having been closed with much difficulty, was fastened by a 
 rope, in default of a lock, she went her farewell round out of 
 doors. 
 
 Polly entreated to come, too. 
 
 " Let me come. Aunt Joanna," she said. " I want to learn 
 what I am to do when you are away." 
 
 "Well, put down the kittens, then," Joanna said. "Not 
 on my bed — how can you, Polly ! " 
 
 " But you won't be sleeping in it to-night," said Polly, with 
 wide open eyes. " So, what does it matter? " 
 
 " You are quite right," said Joanna, turning away. 
 
 It was nearly time to start when they had made the round 
 of the potatoes, the hay, the bees, and the chickens. 
 
 Joanna went upstairs to put on her hat, and was surprised 
 to find that her hands were trembling. She did not feel any- 
 thing particular, only a dull determination to go through 
 ■with it to the end. 
 
 "Grandfather has sent for you," said Polly. "He is in 
 the dining-room." 
 
 " Very well," said Joanna composedly; " I am going." 
 
 " I suppose I mustn't come? " said Polly. 
 
 Joanna shook her head. 
 
 There were very few minutes left, and she had just been 
 making up her mind to go and look for her father herself. 
 
 " Come in and shut the door for a minute or two," he said. 
 
 He was looking very troubled and worried. He had been 
 so proud and fond of Joanna, and she had so entirely disap- 
 pointed him. He felt, too, what a difference, what a blank 
 her absence would leave in the house. 
 
 " Have you got a purse ? " he said practically. "Here are 
 five pounds which you will need for your journey and small 
 expenses, and here is a cheque for a couple of hundred. 
 Make it go as far as you can. When I hear, later on, how 
 matters are, I will see what I can manage to allow you 
 yearly." 
 
 "Thank you," said Joanna, in a low voice. "I am dis- 
 obeying you, father, and I don't deserve any help.'' 
 
 "Of course, I must help you as far as I can," said Mr. 
 Conway. "And if you are in any trouble or difficulty, 
 you must write to me at once. I want to hear the truth 
 about your life. Do you understand, Joanna? " 
 
 " Yes, father," said Joanna. 
 
 "And now, my child, good-bye, and God bless you," said 
 Mr. Conway, drawing her to him. 
 
 In that last moment it was all she could do not to cling to 
 him and tell him she could not go — she could not bear 
 to go. 
 
A SELF-DENTINO OBDINANCE. 287 
 
 Cliff House seemed so safe and so homelike, and all the little 
 rubs and troubles so very small and petty. 
 
 She was going away — alone — with nobody but herself to 
 depend on for the rest of her life. 
 
 But it was too late to draw back now ; even as she spoke to 
 her father she could hear the wheels of the pony-cart rattling 
 on the gravel in front of the hall door. 
 
 In the hall Mrs. Conway kissed Joanna coldly, but there 
 were tears in her eyes, which made up for it. She considered 
 it her duty to yield to no softness with the daughter who was 
 disobeying her. 
 
 Elizabeth kissed her affectionately enough, but it was Polly 
 who clung to her in a passion of grief, which went very near 
 to upsetting her composure. 
 
 Richard O'Brien's successor was to drive her to the station ; 
 he looked after the pony, and made himself generally useful 
 about the place. 
 
 He had once been in Joanna's Sunday-school class, and he, 
 too, was sorry she was going. 
 
 Lord Meredyth was at the station already. He came out to 
 meet her and have her boxes carried in, and he found her a 
 seat on the platform and was very kind to her. 
 
 There was not even Mr. Jellett to see Joanna off, on this, 
 her second journey in Lord Meredyth's company. 
 
 It was the first time she had left Ballylone since the day, 
 two years ago, when she and Nicholas had started off gaily 
 for Merevale. 
 
 In those days Joanna had not lacked courage to face the 
 unknown ; she had been full of joy and excitement, and had 
 left her home behind her with a light heart. 
 
 Now, it was very different indeed. 
 
 ' ' Here comes the train, " said Lord Meredyth. ' ' I have got 
 your ticket. Miss Conway. We must try and get a carriage 
 to ourselves." 
 
 Which they did without diflSculty; there were not many 
 first-class passengers about Ballylone. 
 
 There was a whistle, a slamming of doors, and they were off. 
 
 Joanna leaned out of the window, watching the familiar 
 little station till it could be seen no longer. Every field she 
 passed she knew well; there was a hedge where a lost swarm 
 of bees had been discovered ; a bog-hole where she had once 
 fallen in and been dragged out dirty and dripping; the path 
 across the fields which, of all others, she and Nicholas had 
 liked the best. Everything was familiar, everything had some 
 remembrance connected with it, and it was very, very possible 
 that she would never see Ballylone again. 
 
288 A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 " Loke who that is most Tirtuous always, 
 Prive and apert and most eutendeth ay 
 To do the gentle dedes that he can, 
 And take him for the greatest gentleman." 
 
 "Here we are," said Lord Meredyth; "this is Eaton 
 Square.'' 
 
 "Oh," said Joanna, "I was beginning to feel as if we 
 were going to drive on forever ! " 
 
 She was very tired, and far more nervous and shy in view 
 of this second meeting with Lady Meredyth than she had 
 been before the first. 
 
 Her box and that shabby portmanteau looked so out of 
 place in front of the Meredyth carriage, which had come to 
 meet them at the station. Their house looked so big and im- 
 pressive. 
 
 She recognised the footman who opened the door for them ; 
 on her first arrival at Merevale lie had also been there. 
 
 Vaguely it hurt her that he made no sign of recognition. It 
 was undeniable that he must see a great many ladies, and that 
 she did not see many footmen ; but still, had she known it, he 
 not only recognised her, but was entirely conversant with her 
 history. 
 
 " Is her ladyship at home ? " said Lord Meredyth. 
 
 The butler had made haste to come to do his master honour. 
 
 "No, my lord," he said; " her ladyship told me to say that 
 she would return for afternoon tea." 
 
 " And Lady Hilda West ? " 
 
 " Lady Hilda left for Scotland two days ago, my lord." 
 
 Joanna was disappointed ; she had hoped that Lady Hilda 
 would have been at Eaton Square still, and had felt that a talk 
 with her would have done her a great deal of good. 
 
 "As everybody seems to be out," said Lord Meredyth, 
 "shall we both freshen ourselves up a bit, and be ready to 
 have tea comfortably % " 
 
 " I think that would be a capital plan," said Joanna, with 
 resolute cheerfulness. 
 
 Somehow this time everything impressed her in a quite new 
 way; the big hall, the wide, handsome staircase, the neat, grave 
 maid who led her to her room. It had all amused and excited 
 her before, but never depressed her. Was she by chance be- 
 coming snobbish ? After all what difference did riches and 
 big rooms and luxury really make ? But Joanna knew they 
 did make a difference. 
 
 It gave her one more excuse for Nicholas. She herself had 
 
A SELF-DENYINa ORBINANGE. 289 
 
 been on one side, out of her element, with her rusticity and 
 her home-made frocks, and Lady Florence on the other, with 
 every help that dress and experience could give, in a circle to 
 which she had been accustomed all her life long, and where 
 she was admired by all. 
 
 She could realise now how different she had seemed to 
 Nicholas as Joanna at Ballylone and Joanna at Merevale. 
 
 With the courage of ignorance she had never feared Lady 
 Florence, had never even thought any precautions necessary. 
 She had made no allowance whatever for outside influences, 
 and was it any wonder that Nicholas had lost his head ? She 
 could not have believed in any man now with such serenity, 
 with such absolute unconsciousness of danger. 
 
 Joanna changed into the gray dress which was still her best, 
 and let the maid lay out the blue and silver on her bed. 
 
 She did not go down till a message came to tell her that tea 
 was ready, and even then it was with somewhat unwilling 
 steps. 
 
 But Lady Meredyth had not as yet come in, and there was 
 only Meredyth himself waiting for her. 
 
 He had more than plenty of business ready for his return, 
 and if he had intended to be idle, he could have spent the 
 afternoon very comfortably at his club, but he had suspected 
 that Joanna would be rather lonely and forlorn. 
 
 She was grateful to him, and very glad to have him for a 
 support. 
 
 They found themselves comfortable armchairs in a corner 
 of the reading-room, which Lord Meredyth had selected for 
 tea, because it was small and had an air of cosiness, and be- 
 ing both chilly people, they had a fire lighted, July though it 
 was. 
 
 Presently Lady Meredyth came in, rustling in her silk petti- 
 coat, in elaborate attire which Joanna thought suited her a 
 great deal better than the shirts and serge skirts of Merevale. 
 
 She had not expected an effusive greeting from her hostess; 
 she knew her too well. Consequently she was not disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Conway ? not tired after your jour- 
 ney, I hope ? Well, Mei-edyth, glad you're back ; you don't 
 know Captain Maurice, I think ? Great Scott, this room is 
 like a furnace! " 
 
 After which she devoted herself to the two men who had 
 followed her in. One of them had apparently come under 
 pressure, refused to sit down, and was barely civil to Lady 
 Meredyth, signs by which Joanna concluded that he was be- 
 ginning to tire of following in her train, as somehow or other 
 all her prot§g& did, sooner or later. The other declined tea 
 altogether,^ and was supplied with something more stimulating. 
 
290 A SELF-DENTINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 But both of them stared at Joanna; they knew all about 
 her and were curious, and they had both known Osborne. 
 
 "Captain Maurice, must you really go ?" said Lady Mere- 
 dyth. " Wait for a few minutes and we will have some fresh 
 tea; this is half cold." 
 
 "Thanks, I must positively go," said Captain Maurice, look- 
 ing bored. "I am late for an appointment already." 
 
 "Well, we will meet to-ni^ht at Lady Gower's. Do you 
 object to my having an appointment with Captain Maurice, 
 Meredyth ? " Lady Meredyth ended, with rather forced play- 
 fulness. 
 
 But the only person who objected to the appointment was 
 Captain Maurice himself. 
 
 After he had left, other people who were staying in the 
 house began to drop in, and one or two of them Joanna had 
 met at Merevale. 
 
 She escaped as soon as she could, but at dinner she had to 
 face them all; she would have liked to remain in her room 
 even then, but to say so, would, she thought, have sounded 
 like affectation. 
 
 Lady Meredyth did speak to her once, just as she was start- 
 ing upon her round of evening festivities. 
 
 " Miss Conway," she said, " I suppose you will want some 
 dresses ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna, "I shall have to get something.'' 
 
 " You can have a carriage to-morrow morning, if you like, 
 and I will send my maid to help you." 
 
 "Oh, thank you," said Joanna. 
 
 ' ' If you want any help outside that, of course I shall be glad 
 to do what I can for you," Lady Meredyth ended. 
 
 She was not ill-natured, but simply self-engrossed. 
 
 Meredyth brought her home from Lady Gower's, and in the 
 carriage he spoke to her about Nicholas and Joanna. 
 
 "It is a crazy marriage," Lady Meredyth said. "If Nick 
 had kept quiet he might have been more or less white-washed 
 in a year or two; but, of course, it is his own business." 
 
 "It is a crazy marriage for Miss Conway, certainly," said 
 Lord Meredyth gravely. 
 
 " Florence Delacque won't be best pleased when she hears 
 about it." 
 
 " She is in France, isn't she ? " 
 
 " She is in France, right enough, duennaed by an old cousin 
 or aunt or something, by your orders, according to Hilda. I 
 wonder how long she will stand it ! " 
 
 " It was the only thing to be done," said Lord Meredyth. 
 "Shall I draw up the window — that cloak of yours is very 
 thin." 
 
 "Thanks, no; I am not such a chilly person as you are. 
 
A SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE. 291 
 
 Florence has written to me, you know, Jack, complaining 
 about it all. What is more, she wrote to Mr. Delacque, in- 
 forming him that it was his duty to give her a yearly allow- 
 ance. He was furious and sent the letter to Hilda, saying he 
 wished for no further communication with the family." 
 
 "She has neither conscience nor shame," said Lord 
 Meredyth. 
 
 Judith laughed: " Well, I promise you that under the same 
 circumstances I won't write to you for help, Meredyth," she 
 said. 
 
 " Don't speak like that, child," he said abruptly. 
 
 Judith looked at him and was silent. She had a queer 
 respect and affection somewhere in her silly heart for her hus- 
 band. He had been in love with her once, and though he was 
 not in love with her any longer, though in London and at 
 Merevale they went their own ways and saw very little of each 
 other, still he was invariably kind to her when they did meet. 
 The rubs and disagreements of theirfirst years of marriage had 
 settled into a friendly indiif erence, but there was no likelihood 
 that she would ever wish to follow Lady Florence's example. 
 
 She went back to the subject of Nicholas. 
 
 "But you intend Nicholas to rough it, don't you ?" she 
 said. "From your account of the ranch, I don't see where a 
 Lady Osborne is to come in, even a little chit like that." 
 
 "I did intend him to rough it," Meredyth answered, " and 
 to a certain extent he must still. But I can't send a lady out 
 in the way I proposed to send him. I shall have to make a 
 difference of course, though it is more than he deserves. 
 Poor girl! in any case she will have plenty to put up with." 
 
 " Poor girl, indeed ! " said Lady Meredyth, " I should say she 
 is a young woman who can conveniently shut her eyes to a 
 good deal with a view to becoming Lady Osborne " 
 
 " A high honour, indeed! " said Meredyth, with something 
 approaching a sneer. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 ' ' Woo'd and married and a', 
 Married and woo'd and a' I 
 And was she sae very weel off, 
 That was woo'd and married and a' ? " 
 
 So, as all things come in time, it happened that Joanna woke 
 up one damp morning to find it was her wedding-day. 
 
 It was not a cheerful day by any means ; out of her window 
 there was nothing to be seen but rain, falling in a thick 
 drizzling mist. 
 
292 A SELF-DENYINO ORDINANCE. 
 
 Her boxes were packed already; there only remained out- 
 side her finished carvings, which Lord Meredyth had promised 
 to try and dispose of for her. 
 
 In a few hours now it would all be finally settled, so that 
 nobody could ever come between them any more; they would 
 have to help each other through the rest of their lives as best 
 they could. 
 
 What would be the end of it all ? Joanna wondered. 
 
 In her vague thoughts of what her wedding-day should be 
 like, it had never been like this. She felt nothing just then 
 but complete over-mastering terror; terror lest in this new life 
 Nicholas should fail her, terror of what the next few hours 
 would bring her. 
 
 It was a hasty morning, and for herself Joanna wished for 
 no delay. 
 
 The marriage was to be at ten o'clock, to leave them time to 
 reach the docks before their ship sailed. 
 
 Lord Meredyth was kind but grave. Lady Meredyth was 
 disturbed by her effort at early rising, and determined to have 
 Joanna in good time. She had a haunting fear that the boat 
 might be missed, and the newly married couple deposited upon 
 her hands for a week. 
 
 " Now, Joanna," said Lord Meredyth, " if you are ready, I 
 think we ought to start." 
 
 "I am ready," said Joanna. 
 
 There was a desperate longing in her mind to rush upstairs, 
 lock herself in her room, and declare that nothing would per- 
 suade her to be married that day, but this project was plainly 
 unadvisable. 
 
 . She had to recollect, too, that this day, though all important 
 to her, was only like other days to the rest. 
 
 In the carriage she heard Lady Meredyth say in an under- 
 tone to her husband: "What time will this business be over, 
 do you think? I have an appointment." 
 
 After all, why should not Lady Meredyth think of her 
 appointment ? Joanna was not much more than a stranger 
 to her, and Nicholas had forfeited all right to be considered. 
 
 Even Lord Meredyth — kind as he was, this could be noth- 
 ing but an episode to him. 
 
 Joanna longed for somebody from home, somebody who 
 was not only kind to her, but who belonged to her, and to 
 whose kindness she had a right. 
 
 They were to be married in a church near Regent Street, 
 which was not fashionable, and was fairly convenient. 
 Joanna's boxes were to be transferred to Nicholas' carriage, 
 and the one they were in now was to take Lady Meredyth to 
 her appointment. 
 
 It was very wet getting out at the church door; the foot- 
 
A SELF-DENTING ORDINANCE. 293 
 
 man had to hold an umbrella over Lady Meredyth and 
 Joanna in turn. 
 
 There were only a few stray people in church, and it was 
 such a dark day that the clergyman had had a lamp lighted 
 for his benefit. 
 
 Joanna became seized with a sudden panic ; suppose Nich- 
 olas had not come ? Suppose anything had happened to pre- 
 vent him — or had he changed his mind ? 
 
 No, there he was waiting for them, looking much more 
 nervous than she did. Joanna was seized with a sudden 
 impulse to laugh ; he had forgotten to turn down his trowsers. 
 It looked so absurd to see him, but there was no doubt about 
 it, she must not laugh — what would everybody think ! 
 
 " The voice that hreathed o'er Eden " 
 
 With the organ her impulse toward laughter passed away. 
 
 " Come," said Lord Meredyth. 
 
 "I don't call that a pretty girl," said one spectator to 
 another. 
 
 ' ' No, the man is handsome ; she has got the best of the 
 bargain," said another. 
 
 Nicholas was desperately nervous. All through the Exhor- 
 tation Joanna could see his hands shaking. 
 
 It never stopped raining, pattering against the windows. 
 
 "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the 
 dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall 
 be disclosed, that if either of ye know of any impediment, 
 why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, 
 ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many 
 are coupled together otherwise than God's word doth allow 
 are not joined together by God ; neither is their matrimony 
 lawful." 
 
 What were they doing ? Did God allow them to be joined 
 together while another woman lived, and a child which was 
 his and hers ? 
 
 Should not the memory of this woman have held them 
 apart forever ? Joanna pressed her lips together to keep back 
 a cry. Would Lady Florence herself appear to part them ? 
 
 But the clergyman went on to the next part of the service 
 with scarcely a pause ; he did not expect any answer ; he 
 only thought the bride looked very white and miserable, and 
 looking at Nicholas' handsome face, he wondered. 
 
 Nobody came between the two to separate them, and it was 
 all over very soon. Whether it was a sin or a thing well 
 done, nothing could undo it now. 
 
 They said good-bye to Lord and Lady Meredyth in the 
 vestry. 
 
294 A BELF-DENTINQ ORDINANCE. 
 
 "Good-bye," said Lady Meredyth ; "I wish you all kinds 
 of good fortune, and I hope you will have pleasant passage." 
 
 After which she kissed Joanna, and held up her cheek to 
 Nicholas, a little moved and touched by the whole affair. 
 
 "Good-bye, Osborne," said Meredyth, shaking his hand. 
 " You are a lucky man at last." 
 
 There were many things he could have said, but he did not 
 want to preach to Nicholas, especially just then. 
 
 Nicholas himself, with his handsome face bright, said : "I 
 owe you a lot, Meredyth, and I am really going to turn to 
 and make something of my life now. With God's help, 
 Joanna shall never regret to-day." 
 
 Then Lord Meredyth said good-bye to Joanna, simply good- 
 bye, without any words added. 
 
 The few spectators had gone when they walked through 
 the church again, and they nad it to themselves. 
 
 " This is our carriage, Joanna," said Nicholas, and Lady 
 Meredyth said good-bye over again, this time a little absently, 
 for she had begun to think of her appointment. 
 
 "To the Albert Docks," said Nicholas; then he turned to 
 Joanna. 
 
 "Darling, darling," he said, " you are mine at last." 
 
 He was very much agitated still, but for her the agitation 
 was over. 
 
 "I will take such care of you, my sweetheart— my wife" 
 he said. " Darling, you may trust me. I will make myself a 
 different man for your sake, believe me, I will." 
 
 "Oh, I will believe you — I must believe you!" Joanna 
 cried. 
 
 "And you are glad to be my wife ? Dearest, you used 
 always to be so cheery, and I want you to look happy. We 
 are going to forget everything, darling, except each other, 
 and we are going to be very happy." 
 
 ' ' We are going to be very happy, " repeated Joanna. ' ' Dear, 
 will you have patience with me just for to-day ? To-morrow 
 I will be as cheery as I used to be." 
 
 This ends, as it should end, with the ringing of marriage 
 bells. 
 
 And most undoubtedly the ringing of marriage bells is 
 understood to precede perfect happiness in this best of all 
 possible worlds. 
 
 THE END. 
 

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