- ■^vir^esKifaifyjasKxr.ntrdia, '^J'ij'.'/»'/M^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA THE COLLECTION OF NORTH CAROLINIANA C813 R35ra3 i H o' FOR USE ONLY IN THE NORTH CAROLINA COLLECTION MISS CHURCHILL A STUDY BY CHRISTIAN REID AUTHOR OF "EOXNT KATE." " A SITMjrER TDTT.." "MORTON HOrSE," "VALERIE AYLMER," " KINA'S ATONEMENT," " HEART OF STEEL," ETC. NEW YORK D. APPLETOX AND COMPANY 1887 COPTKIGHT, 1887, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. All rights reserved. MISS CHURCHILL : A STUDY. BOOK I. AMONG THE PINES, CHAPTEE I. To one unaccustomed to their aspect, there are per- haps few things more melancholy than the great pine- forests of the South. Their vast extent, their absolute monotony, the total lack of other growth or any pict- uresque features connected with the landscape, render them oppressive in the extreme to one who journeys through them for the first time, or who takes up his abode among them reluctantly. But to one who has lived long in their midst, or to the new-comer of poetic soul, there is a strange fascination in this region of ap- parent gloom. Stateliest of all evergreens, the giant trees rise to an immense height, giving a great sense of space below. Between their sj^lendid trunks one walks as through the pillared aisles of a vast cathedral, while overhead the sea-like murmur of their plumy branches fills the air, and underfoot their fragrant needles, interspersed here and there with resinous 4 MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. cones, cover the earth as with a carpet. Balsamic odors are inhaled with every breath, and some aspects of beauty strike tlie observant eye so strongly that they can never be forgotten — serried ranks of spear-like pines, ranged like embattled Titans against a stormy sunset ; deep-green crests stretching with solemn majes- ty toward a far, golden horizon ; or a close-girdling wood, full of the suggestion of infinite melancholy, as the trees lift their dark boughs against a cold, gray sky. These pictures, and many more, came as familiar memories to a man who for the first time in twenty years found himself traveling through the pine-lands. All day long the railroad-car in which he sat had been filled with the unflattering comments of travelers, new to the country, on the gloomy and monotonous scenes presented to their view ; but Bernard Lysle, wdio had seen pretty much everything that the world could show, from tropical jungles to Russian steppes, sat silent, gazing out of the window beside him and recall- ing the half-forgotten memories of his early youth. He had been a mere child when he first saw these som- ber forests, coming with his father from the far Cana- dian JSTorth in search of health for the latter. In the pine-lands — not then so well known as they are now for their salubrious qualities — Mr. Lysle gained, if not health, at least a longer lease of life ; and here he spent the greater part of several years. Eecollection of these years thronged upon Bernard as the great forest opened its interminable vistas to his gaze. They were recollec- tions of scenes and people changed or vanished now in the storm of war that had burst over them. At the first muttering of that storm, Mr. Lysle had left the AMONG TEE PINES. 5 conntiy, taking the reluctant boy who, then of the ma- ture age of thirteen, ardently longed to become a sol- dier. Ruthlessly making an end of these warlike aspi- rations, his father hurried away, and from that time to the present Bernard had not looked again upon the soft Southern sky, the solemn Southern pines. "When the death of Mr. Lysle occurred, a year or so later, the boy was sent to England for his education, and he had never returned to America until a few months before the day that saw him traveling through the pine-lands. It was not curiosity alone that had drawn him back to these scenes of his yonth, but an interest which had been strong enough to survive the great length of time that had elapsed smce his depart- ure. Chief among the friends of those childish days had been the family of Governor Churchill, one of the foremost men of the State, to whom his father had carried letters of introduction, and who had made them welcome with the open-handed hospitality of the South, both in his summer lodge among the pine-lands and at his great estate upon the seaboard. To the last — the old seat of the family — Bernard had paid many visits, and his special friend had been Hugh Churchill, a boy two or three years older than himself, although at that time Bernard's quicker intelligence had made him seem the elder. The difference in age told, however, in the fact that, before the war ended, Hugh, like the rest of his class and generation, was old enough to bear arms and make a campaign or two, of which his friend at school in England heard with regretful envy. The war over, some communication passed between them ; but young Churchill was absorbed in the terrible strug- 6 MISS CHUECHILL: A STUDY. gle for existence of those days, and his friend's letters remained unanswered and finally ceased. Lysle, on his side, had many things to occupy him and drive old memories from his mind. But when circumstances at last led his wandering footsteps back to America, he at once recalled to mind his old friend, and wrote to him. After long delay a reply reached him, bearing the post- mark of a town in tlie interior of the State. '' I have been living here for ten years," Churchill wrote, " life on the sea-coast having become unbearable through the worthlessness and insubordination of the negroes. The sea-islands are abandoned, the rice-fields hardly worked at all ; so, giving up in despair the hope of doing anything on the old estate, I came here, bought a few hundred acres, and manage to live. Will you come and see how ? There is no one I would rather see than yourself, and my w^ife will be delighted to meet you. Did you know that I have a wife ? I do not think that I have heard from you or written to you since my marriage. Come, then, and see me in my character oi jpater farailiasP Lysle smiled over this letter, and felt that he should very much like to see the writer again. A few days later, therefore, found him traveling toward the small town of Oldfield, situated in the midst of the pine-belt. It was late in the afternoon of a soft autumn day when he reached his destination, and as he stepped from the train his hand was seized by a tall, handsome man with laughing eyes and bold, clear-cut features, whose slight shabbiness of dress could not conceal an air of personal distinction. " Bernard, my dear fellow, how delighted I am to AMONG TEE PmES, 7 Bee you again ! " lie cried, m a cordial voice. ^' This is what I call a compliment indeed — to come so far to look up an old friend." "My dear Hugh, I would have gone much farther to look yau up," answered Lysle. And then, since the first moments of meeting, after long separation, are not usually moments of expansion, the two friends regarded each other silently for an in- stant. What Lysle perceived has been said : Churchill on his side saw a small man, slightly and elegantly built, with something peculiarly refined and even pict- uresque in his appearance, with keen dark eyes that seemed made to look through everything, and the air and manner of a thorough man of the world. It was the latter whose brief scrutiny ended first, and who spoke again. " How much you are like your father, Hugh ! I should have known you anywhere by that likeness ; but how did you know me ? " Churchill laughed. " If you could see yourself," lie said, " you would not need to ask. Not many peo- ple of your stamp appear in Oldfield. Then, after all, you are not greatly changed. And so you think I re- semble my father ? I am glad of that, though I shall never be the courtly gentleman that he was — God bless him ! "We have fallen on rough days, and they leave their impress on me as well as on others. But this way, Bernard. Here is my trap." He led the way to where a Jersey wagon stood, in the back of which two negroes were laboriously assist- ing each other to place Lysle's luggage. The equipage, like its owner's coat, was somewhat shabby; but the 8 MISS CEURCHILL: A STUDY. horses were handsome and well groomed. Churchill sprang in and took the reins, Lysle followed, and the next moment they were driving rapidly through the streets of Oldfield and thence out into the open country. When they left the little town behind, and the great pine-woods closed around them, filling the nostrils with aromatic odors, while the wagon rolled smoothly, the horses trotted briskly over the level road, Lysle had a curious sensation as if all the memories and feelings of his youth were waiting for him among those solemn and majestic trees. " You see we are on a ridge," Churchill explained. " It is very healthy here, as the pine-lands mostly are ; but on each side of us are valleys where malaria exists. Hence every one endeavors to live on the ridge. Oldfield is built on it, as you observe, and so is my house, though my plantation lies a mile or two away." " I am sorry that you should have been forced to leave your beautiful old home," said Lysle. ''But I hope that you are prospering now." " So-so," answered the other, cheerily. " It has been a hard fight, but the worst is over. My marriage looked like simple madness at the time it took place, but Nettie — that is, my wife — was left an orphan, and I felt that, if I ever meant to take care of her, then was the time to do it. She has never repented our rashness, nor have I. ' Heaven helps those who help themselves,' and no man ever found a more willing and cheerful helpmate than she has been to me." " Who was she ? Did I know her people ? " " Of course you did — the Derringers ! They were AMO^G TEE FINES. 9 our near neiglibors. Her father and lier brothers fell in the war ; her mother died of a broken heart soon after ; and the poor little girl was left penniless — for the ocean might as well have risen and whelmed our sea- board estates, for all the good they were to us. We struggled on separately for a year or two, and then I could stand it no longer. 'If you are not afraid, Ket- tle,' I said, 'come and let us try it together.' She looks like a flower, but she has the courage of a soldier. She was not afraid. For several years we endured more privations than I care to remember, but we kept debt and starvation at bay, and now we are ' out of the woods ' — Deo g7'atias ! " If Lysle smiled at the tone, there was none the less a softening of the bright dark eyes which showed how his heart was touched ; for he knew enough to be able to divine much that was hidden under the story so simply told. He remembered the splendid heritage to which the speaker had been born, the luxury and ease in which his early years had been passed, and he felt that the brave gentlemen of the past had no cause to blush for their descendant. " But," he said, after a short pause, " had you not a sister ? I remember a fair-haired little girl in your father's house." " To be sure I had, and have," Churchill answered. " But I was relieved of the care of her by her aunt — my father married twice, so she is only my half-sister — who insisted on taking her at the time of my father's death, and with whom she lived until about two years ago, when Mrs. Austin herself died. Since then, Cecil has made her home with me. I believe that is all there 10 MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. is to know of us, except tjiat I Lave — ^Vby, hallo ! where do you scamps come from ? " This question was addressed to a party of children who suddenly appeared at the side of the road, and raised a shout at sight of the wagon. The horses shied a little, but Churchill jDulled them up ; when Lysle saw that the group was composed of three children and a young lady who stood a little farther back under the pines. There was much in the accident of time and place to make an enduring memory of this his first sight of Cecil Churchill. Through tall, straight stems the sun- shine slanted, full of the golden pathos of autumn, the dark-green foliage overhead stretched away with the melancholy aspect that only pines possess, while on the verge of the forest, touched by mingled light and shadow, this figure stood with the dim woodland depths behind it. A graceful figure — so much he perceived at once — tall for a woman, as her brother was tall for a man, but slender and stately as the trees that surrounded her. A broad hat of rough straw was pushed back from a face that challenged questioning rather than immediate ad- miration. "Was it beautiful ? Most people would have answered in the negative. " Striking," they would have said — " interesting," they might have added ; but they would not have been likely to admit that it pos- sessed beauty. Lysle, however, knew many types of many arts, and he recognized that there was beauty of a striking and unusual order in the nobly molded feat- ures, in the wide low forehead framed by hair the color of an oak-leaf in autumn, in the eyes deep-set as those AMO^^'G THE FIXES. H of antique sculpture under level brows, in the lips whicli were exquisite in form and expression, though too thin to please the ordinary taste; even in the pale, slightly hollowed cheeks and square contour of chin. It was with a swift glance that he took all this in, while the children answered the question with which Church- ill had stopped : " Take up jSTettie, papa — Xettie's tired." " Yes, take her, Hugh ; I have brought her too far," said the young lady. " Yery well," answered Churchill, good-humoredly. Then he added, ^' Here is my sister, Bernard." " I can not flatter myself that Miss Churchill re- members me," said Lysle, springing to the ground. But, since T remember her very well, I must beg to shake hands." '' I do remember you, however," said Miss Church- ill, smiling as she placed her hand in his. '^ Children have better memories than people fancy. I not only remember you, but I remember that I liked you best of all Hugh's friends. So I am glad that, after such long years of absence and silence, you have cared enough for him to come to see him." She spoke with a gracious sweetness of tone and manner that charmed him. "What can I say," he answered, " except that it shall not be my fault if you do not continue to like me best of all Hugh's friends? And, as a beginning, let me suggest that you, as well as ISTettie, come with us." "Come, Cecil," said Churchill. "There is room enough for you and the youngsters." "JSTo, thank you," she replied. "We are out for 12 MISS CEURCEILL: A STUDY. exercise, and would rather wallv. But Nettie is tired — take lier." " This is Nettie, I presume," said Ljsle, looking at a young person, apparently about three years old, with long, golden curls and large dark eyes. " Will made- moiselle allow me ? " He lifted her into the wagon, where she promptly took refuge between her father's knees, and then he turned again to Miss Churchill. " I am sorry that you are so resolutely bent on ex- ercise," he said ; " for I am sure these young gentlemen would like a drive." " Yery likely," she answered, for the other children — two sturdy boys of seven and nine respectively — regarded Nettie with evident envy. "But they are too gallant to leave me to walk home alone." " So am I," said Lysle, laughing a little, " if you will permit me to accompany you. Pray, do not re- fuse ! I should like very much to stretch my limbs after sitting in a railroad-car all day ; and to renew my acquaintance with my old friends the pine- woods." Miss Churchill did not refuse, but she looked at her brother, who said, easily : " Take him with you, Cecil. — And now, you boys, if you want to drive, up with you ! " The boys required no second invitation. They clambered quickly into Lysle's vacated place, and the wagon rolled away down the green vista of the road, leaving the two old yet new acquaintances standing together under the pines. CHAPTER II. "I HOPE that you do not consider me very pre- sumptuous, Miss Cliurchill," said Lysle, turning to his companion with a smile, as the equipage disappeared. " Oh, no," she answered. ^' I think it very natural that you should prefer to walk after having been in a railroad-car all day. And no doubt you remember how pleasant it is among the pines." '' I remember very well. It is really curious how much I recollect of my life in this country, considering what an interval of time has elapsed since I left here. Twenty years ! That is long at any period of exist- ence, but in youth it is an age. I have before my eyes a proof of what it can do. When I saw you last, you were Xettie's age. And now — " " I was a little more than Nettie's age, or perhaps I should not remember you," she said. '*! was five years old when the war began — and I think you went away then." " Yes, I went away then — sadly against my will. I felt that I was leaving untold possibilities of glorious excitement for the humdrum of ordinary existence. Bat I have learned since what the glorious excitement of war means when one comes to see it close at hand." " You have seen it often, have you not ? " 2 14 MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. " Yerj often. I have been a war correspondent, as you are perhaps aware. In that capacity I went through the Franco-Prussian War, and several lesser campaigns. When I was younger than 1 am now, I had a great taste for adventure, as well as a passion for letters, and the two fancies served each other in that way." " What a great thing it is to be a man ! " she said, looking at him with the most evident envy shining in her eyes — eyes that he now saw were of a clear and beautiful golden-hazeh " You could make your ca- pacity serve your taste ; but I — that is, a woman — must submit to tlie bondage of circumstances, without any hope of using her capacity or gratifying her taste." " Do you think so ? " he asked. " That was the case a generation or two ago, but women are pretty well emancipated now, and have perfect liberty, as far as the opinion of the world goes, to use whatever capacity they may possess. It is true they have not yet become war correspondents, but very likely they will, some day. Meanwhile, they are authors, artists, travelers, scien- tists, or anything else that they like." " Ah ! you are speaking of the world," she said, in a tone of half-un con scions sadness. " That is all true — in the world. But it is not much good to know that others are free, if one is in prison one's self." " All prisons have doors," said Lysle, looking at her with interest. She shook her head. "[tTot all. Some, I think, are like those ancient dungeons of which one reads, that have only a well-like opening above, through which the soul will escape some day. But see, Mr. AMONG THE PINES. 15 I^ygle — if you like the pines, here they are in their glory." They had turned from the road to follow a path leading through the woods, and were indeed in the midst of the great trees. Far as the eye could reach, vistas of pillar-like trunks opened to the gaze, while the dark crests above formed a shade so dense that hardly the noonday sun could j^ierce it. The shadow which reigned here was toned to softness by the ab- sence of any color save the rich brown of the stems, the paler bro^Ti of the fallen needles, and the somber green of the mighty boughs. It was a region of sub- dued light, monotonous tint, and solemn silence. There seemed no reason why the path that led through these dim forest-aisles should ever end. ^' How familiar it all is ! " said Lysle, with a glance that took in every detail of the picture. " And full of a charm which even as a child I dimly felt — the charm of infinite repose, subtly mingled with melan- cholv." " With melancholy, yes," his companion answered. *' Though these woods have a fascination for me, I confess that I feel their melancholy deeply. I can not shake off the influence; yet when I am in lighter, happier regions, I miss and long for it." Lysle's quick, dark glance again rested on her for an instant. '^ I can fancy that," he said ; " the longing for it, I mean, in what you call lighter and happier regions. Some scenes, like some people, are very bright, but also very shallow. There is no shallowness in the pines." 16 MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. She smiled. " No, indeed. On the contrary, they seem filled with a knowledge of some mystery of life or death which they never cease uttering to ears too dull to interjDret it. Listen ! — do you not like to hear their murmur?" She stood still, lifting her face toward the boughs overhead, whence came the mysterious whisper which the pines are forever sighing, even " though all the wings of all the winds seem furled." Lysle paused and listened also to the sound, pleasant to his ear as the murmur of the sea, and full of poetic suggestion. But, while he listened, he looked at the face that more and more revealed its character to him — a character of infinite sensitiveness and the inherent melancholy that in some souls never fails to vibrate in response to the deep note that runs through Nature. He saw that, despite the firmness of the chin, the lips were delicate and tremulous as the petals of a flower, and that the eyes had depths of sadness as well as of beauty. " IIow often I have lain under the trees, listening to that voice, so full of incommunicable things ! " he observed, when they presently walked on. " I am in- clined to think that I was rather a strange child when I remember all that it said to me." " Hugh declares that you were a most uncommon child," she said. "I am sure that no pinnacle of greatness to which you could have climbed would have surprised him." " He must be surprised, then, that I have climbed to none at all," answered Lysle, with a slight inflection of mockery in his pleasant voice. '* Have you any AMONG THE PIKES. 17 idea of what it is to feel yourself a failure, Miss Churcliill ? I am a failure." "Mr. Lvsle!" "Oh, yes," shrugging his shoulders lightly, "I know what you mean. I have done some things that the world has noticed and praised. But, as it has chanced, they were things of which I was ashamed, or, if not ashamed, at least thoroughly indifferent to ; while the things in which I have put the best that is in me, have fallen unnoticed. Hence I know that I am a failure. But," he added humorously, "I tell you this in confidence. Believe me, I do not go about the world proclaiming it." She seemed doubtful whether he was in jest or earnest, as she looked at him with her deep eyes, divided between sympathy and incredulity. Lysle smiled — a whimsical smile which she was destined to learn to know very well. "You do not believe me," he said. "I find it hard to believe you," she answered, frankly. " You have always been to me — to us, that is — an impersonation of success. We have felt as if we were not cut off entirely from the life of the world, since we knew, however remotely, one in the midst of its currents and its strifes, one whose name is familiar to everybody who has any knowledge of the affairs and the literature of the time." "You put it most flatteringly," said Lysle, sur- prised and touched. " But, believe me, I am not de- preciating myself in order that you may exalt me, when I declare that I have by no means accomplished all that you imagine. I have some reputation, it is true ; IS MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. but, as 1 said before, it is based on the things for wliicli I care least. You are so kind as to be inter- ested. Shall I tell you a little about myself ? " " Pray do," she said, with an eager glance. " I will try not to make the story long. Shall I commence with the beginning of such reputation as I possess ? 1^0 ; I think I must go a little behind that, in order to make you understand. Well, even as a child I possessed a great deal of imagination, and all my dominant tastes were intellectual, so you may con- ceive what bent my ambition took as I grew older. I had hardly left Oxford when I published a volume of poems, which were received with praise from a few critics, but fell dead as far as the public was con- cerned. A year or two later I produced some dramatic studies, on which I had bestowed infinite pains and all the scholarship I possessed, but which shared the same fate. About this time I lost some money by the failure of a company in the stock of which my father had invested largely, and I saw that it was necessary to put my Pegasus in harness. A little anonymous journalistic work had given me credit with editors ; and when the Franco-Prussian War broke out I ac- cepted an offer to go abroad as war correspondent. The work was not to my taste, but I liked adventure, and I went. I dashed off descriptions of what was passing before my eyes with reckless haste and utter want of care — writing in camps, by bivouac-lires, in wayside inns, at red heat, and sending off the pages without even a glance of correction. It was work of which to be heartily ashamed, but it was the success of the day in London. I can scarcely express to you the AMONG THE FINES. 19 sense of stupefaction with wliicli I learned this. ' So picturesque, so graphic, so powerful ! ' people said, who had not noticed my most careful labor." '^ But do Tou not see," cried the girl, " that it was your fine qualities, if you will let me say so, that en- abled you to do this work so that it touched people ? Your imagination, your dramatic insight, your faculty of seeing things as a poet sees — oh, surely all this was needed by one who would paint such a terrible strug- gle, with all its warring forces ! The minute touches of pathos and interest, as well as the great movements of armies — those are the things which commonplace eyes never see, but which go straight to the heart, when they are vividly and truthfully portrayed." Her words rushed out so impetuously that she only paused here with a sudden blush. " Pardon me," she said, " but that is how it seems to me." "And it seems to me," said Lysle, ''that I have never found a listener who understood so quickly or divined so well ! ISTo doubt you are right — in part, at least. I had some qualities that gave a peculiar value to my work ; but that did not alter the fact that it was not work to which I should have wished to owe any- thing. Yet I owed to it that I stepped from obscurity into fame, and could thereafter dictate terms to editors and publishers. The war-sketches were subjected to a little correction, issued in book-form, and sold im- mensely. After that I went to the East — to India, to Afghanistan, to Upper Egypt — and, since I have written less superficially than most travelers and correspondents on the countries I have visited and the campaigns I have witnessed, my works have succeeded amazingly, and I 20 MISS CnURCEILL: A STUDY. have become rather an authority on Oriental affairs. Now, Miss Churchill, that is an epitome of what the world calls mv success, and what I consider mj failure. In which light does it strike you f " As she turned her face again toward him, he could see that she was much moved. The lightness of tone with which he had finished found no reflection in any lightness of mood in her — indeed, as he learned after- ward, lightness of mood was not common with Cecil Churchill. " It does not strike me," she said, " as either com- plete success or com^^lete failure. Of course, I under- stand that you have won your reputation by what yon feel to be your lower powers, when yon would have wished to win it by your higher. But I am sure that yon could not have won it without the aid of the higher. And you have this consolation, that now the world will listen to whatever yon wish to say." " I am not sure that I have anything now that I wish to say to it," he answered. " One's life ends by imposing itself npon one, and a failure which looks like a success is, after all, not very nncommon. But really it is uncommon for me to indulge in so mnch egotism ! " he added, snddenly. " I hardly know how I have been beguiled into it." " By my interest, I think," she said, smiling. " You know — or you don't know, but perhaps you may imag- ine — what a wonderful thing it is in my life to come into contact with a man who has done and seen all that yon have — a man of letters and of the world. You will not misunderstand me when I tell you that I have wondered, ever since we knew you were coming, what AMONG THE FIJSTFS. 21 you would be like, and what I could liope to learn from you. I did not venture to think of your talking to me in this manner — talking of the things I long most to know — at once." She spoke with so much simplicity, with so little thought of herself or any impression she might make, that Lysle felt his interest more and more stirred. " You do not know yourself, then," he said, " or you would not be surprised at any confidence which might be bestowed upon you. Your sympathy makes every- thing possible." '* But I am not of a sympathetic nature," she an- swered. " Are you not ? I think I must be appointed to re- veal you to yourself." *' Ko," she said ; " it is you who mistake, and I should be sorry for you to begin with too good an opin- ion of me. I am not sympathetic, in a general sense. It is only some things that rouse my interest — things, unfortunately, that lie remote from my life." " I feel, then, that I have been pecuKarly fortunate in rousing it this afternoon ; and if I may ask a favor of you — " " Oh, yes," she said, as he paused. " It is, that you will command whatever knowledge I possess. I have seen a good deal of the world, and no doubt there are many things in my experience that would interest you. Look upon me as a book, open the pages where you will, and be sure that I shall endeavor to make the record as entertaining as possible." " May I indeed do that ? " she said, with an eager regard. " You can not tell how glad I shall be ! I only 22 MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. fear that I shall bore you terribly if I ask all that I want to know." " That is impossible," he answered, with evident sincerity, " for do you know I have a presentiment that Vv'e shall be very good friends ? " "I hope so," she replied. "Indeed, if I were not afraid of speaking too precipitately, I should say that I am sure of it. But here we are at home. This is my brother's house before us." Lysle looked up as they emerged from the pines, and saw on the other side of the sandy road — which, like a stream, had made a bend around them while they fol- lowed a straight line from point to point — a low, wide- porticoed house, which, without architectural preten- sions, pleased the eye by its perfect adaptation to the climate and the life which it enshrined. Its doors stood hospitably open to the soft air, flowers surrounded it, vines clambered over it, and numerouG chairs scattered about the piazzas indicated how much of the family life went on there. As the two figures, leaving the shadow of the forest, crossed the road to the gate, set in the midst of a luxuriant mock-orange hedge, Churchill, who was reading on the piazza, came forward, newspaper in hand, to welcome his friend again. CHAPTER III. When Ljsle, acting on a sudden impulse, Lad begged to accompany Miss Churchill on her homeward walk, he felt, if he had not distinctly said to himself, "Here is some one whom I wish to know, and who will in- terest me." But he had not expected that the inter- est would develop so quickly, or that the conversation would fall immediately into such a personal channel. After he had been conducted to his chamber and left alone, he found himself recalling, with a sense of surprise, his own expansiveness. He was not prone to talk of himself — much experience had eradicated the impulse, if it had ever existed with him — and far less was he disposed to take others into his confidence with regard to the sense of failure that rendered his apparent success worthless in his own eyes. Yet he had laid bare this inmost secret of his life to a girl who was an absolute stranger to him, and that on an acquaintance of half an hour. If it had been the other way — if he had drawn forth her confidence — the matter would not have been so surprising ; but for him, a man of the world trained in reticence and self-suppression, to be led to talk of himself like a schoolboy — this was too astonish- ing not to need an explanation. And the explanation was soon forthcoming. He 2i MISS CnURCEILL: A STUDY. liad only to recall the pale, beautiful face, the deep eyes with their lurking sadness, and the sensitive, deli- cate lips, to understand that his impulse of confidence had simply been the first step toward winning hers. lie had wished to interest her as a means of studying her, so he had seized the first subject that was avail- able, the first that would serve his purpose — which chanced to be that of himself. And it had served his purpose well. He recalled the look, the tone, with which she had said, " Do you not see that it was your fine qualities that enabled you to do this work so that it touched people ? " He had known it himself, but he could not have imagined that she would grasp the truth so quickly, guided only by his slight and imperfect ex- planation. "• There is something in her that answers to it," he thous-ht. "But what is there besides?" He smiled a little. It would not be his fault if he did not learn what there was besides. He felt this with a sense of pleasure such as only the man who has a desire for fresh intellectual interest knows. He found that no fresh intellectual interest awaited him, however, when he went down-stairs and made the acquaintance of Mrs. Churchill — a pretty, delicate, dark- eyed woman, who received him with much kindness. Her gentle voice and caressing manners revived memo- ries of many such women ^hom he had seen in his youth at Governor Churchill's and elsewhere. Singu- larly enough, these memories had not been stirred by anything about Cecil. With her, individuality was so strong that she seemed a creature sui generis^ belonging to no class or order ; but Mrs. Churchill was the em- bodiment of traditions, of gentle influences and fine so- AMONa THE FIXES. 25 cial culhire, whicli made her the type of a sufficieDtlj numerous class. She pleased Lysle in herself as well as for the sake of those past shadowy days, which yet seemed very real while he sat listening to the flow of her voice, with its soft Southern accent, telling w^hat had become of all the old friends whose names he could recall. " Poor Miles was killed, and Ealph — you re- member his brother Ralph ? — is hard at work like the rest of us, trying to make both ends meet," she was saying, when Churchill came up and sat down beside them. "Barnard looks quite melancholy under the influ- ence of your reminiscences, JS^ettie," he said. " Sup- pose we try to And some more cheerful subject." " With all my heart," she answered. " What shall it be?" " Well, we can make him talk of himself." " Ah, pardon," cried Lysle, with a laugh, " but that is not a cheerful subject at all." " I am sure it ought to be, then," said Churchill, lighting a cigar — for they were on the veranda after tea ; " a man who has succeeded and made a name in the world as you have, ought to find the subject of him- self very cheerful indeed." Lysle, who was conscious that Miss Churchill was wichin hearing, glanced at her, but she did not meet his eyes. She was sitting near one of the arches of the veranda, which framed her like a picture, with her figure in relief against a luminous sky. On this side the house overlooked a slight valley that gave a wider opening and horizon toward the west. One of the beau- tiful sunsets of the pine-lands was glowing on the sky. 2G MISS CnURCniLL: A STUDY. and CeciFs cjes were fastened on it, so that, if she heard her brother's remark, she made no sign. " I can not imagine a man, who is not an incurable egotist, linding the subject of himself very interesting," said Lysle, after a pause. " But I shall be happj to tell jou about some of my adventures with other people, if you care to hear them." " Of course we care," said Churchill. '' Do vou suppose we are devoid of the spirit of adventure be- cause we are forced to live in a rut ? Tell ns some- thing about that campaign in Afghanistan a year or so ago." So Lysle began, describing not only the incidents of the campaign that with its clash of arms had seemed so remote to the civilized world, but also the country which made the scene of it — that vast plateau of Central Asia, with its history stretching back into remote antiquity, those towering mountains which divide the rich plains of India from the table-lands and snowy heights of Afghanistan, the fierce, unconquerable tribes that dwell in those fastnesses, the wild grandeur of the great Khyber Pass, through which from earliest ages the tide of con- quest and plunder has rolled. He was conscious that he had never talked better — not even to a London audi- ence — than to this little group who sat rapt in silence under his words. The sunset glow faded, the yellow moon came up over the pines in the east and changed from gold to silver in the purple sky, and still he spoke, led on by questions from his listeners whenever he ceased. It was as Cecil had said : the poet in him came out in all that he uttered, the past history and traditions of man, the wonderful aspects of IN'ature, the picturesque sng- AMOXG TEE PINES. 27 gesticns of characters, customs, and uianTiers different from anything which modern nations produce — for how modern is Europe, with her civ^ilization of a thousand years, beside the ancient East ! — all were present with him as he talked, coloring his words and conveying to his hearers a vivid realization of that which he described. One of them, at least, almost held her breath while she listened. She seemed to see around her not the familiar girdling pines of the JSTew World, but those stupendous heights of hoary Asia, those vast table-lands from which, in the dimness of prehistoric time, the tribes that were to form nations and peoples began their westward march. The great movement seemed to unroll before her like an antique frieze, mingled with later pictures — of the hosts of Alexander, of the hordes of Timour, and finally of the conflict, deferred yet cer- tain to come, when in this region, fit for a strife of giants, the power of England would meet face to face the might of the AYhite Czar. The striking of a clock within the house at length startled them all. Mrs. Churchill uttered a slight ex- clamation. " Can that be ten o'clock ? " she cried. " O Mr. Lysle, how delightfully you have entertained us ; but how we have imposed upon you ! To make you talk for hours — that is inexcusable ! " " It is inexcusable in me," answered Lysle. " I fear I have bored you very much. You must take care an- other time how you set me off." " We shall certainly take care to set you off," said Churchill. " I can't tell when I have been so much in- terested ! And what vague ideas I had before of the country, and the fighting, and what it was all about ! 28 MISS CUUECEILL: A STUDY. My dear fellow, I don't wonder that you Lave succeed- ed, if you write as you talk." " Just what I was thinking," said Mrs. Churchill. But Cecil said nothing ; and looking at her face as the moonlight fell on it, showing its outlines and the eyes that under their level brows seemed gazing into some immeasurable distance, rather than at the silvery mist which filled the valley, Lysle felt a strong incli- nation to hear what she thought. He rose, and, with some comment on the beauty of the night, walked to the G^digQ of the piazza, pausing near her chair. As he stood silent, she turned her head and looked at him. '' I wish," she said, in a low tone, ^' that I could tell you what pictui'es you have brought before me." " And can you not ? " " Oh, no. Even if it were worth while, I do not think I could. But it would be very absurd to describe to you, who have seen the real things, the pictures in my mind." " The pictures in your mind might be better worth seeing than the real things," he said, smiling. " Imagi- nation is a great painter." " But imagination must have material with which to paint, and you gave me the materials." She paused, then added, quickly : " I see now that I was right in w^hat I said to you this afternoon. It is the qualities you bring to bear on your work that make it what it is." '^ So much can be said of all work — that it is what the qualities brought to bear upon it make it." " Yes. But it is not often, I am sure, that qualities such as yours are brought to bear on such work. Do AMOXG TEE FIXES. 29 not most- people describe only what they see ? But you make one feel so mucli besides — it is like the forty cent- uries looking down from the Pyramids. One realizes all the past as well as the present ; one feels the conti- nuity of human action, and that the events of to-day are only one page of a great drama which had its be- ginning in remotest time." She looked away from him again before she iinished speaking — over the silver-flooded valley to the dark crests of the pines crowning the opposite ridge — and Lysle, whose perceptions were quick, felt that the spell of the images he had evoked was stronger than that of his presence. This consciousness, which might have piqued another man, only interested him. " I am very fortunate if I make you feel those things," he said ; *' but I think you give me too much credit — for you supply, on your side, an imagination and a discernment that few people possess." *' Oh, I am not making myself a standard," she an- swered, simply. " I know that I am not exactly like other people. I found that out when I was a child. One discovers such things early." " Tes — generally by the price of isolation that one must pay," £aid Lysle, who had some experiences of the kind himself. "I never cared for that," she said. "It was the least of two evils. Isolation was better than uncon- genial companionship." " You are not of a social nature, then ?" " If you mean by that, one who likes indiscriminate society — not at all. It wearies me ; and I have no art to hide my weariness. But I think I should like some 30 ^I'SS CnURCIIILL: A STUDY. kinds of society — such Bocietj as (I have fancied) might be found in the great world." "Yes," said Lysle, thoughtfully, "I am sure you would hke that. It is a pity — " He paused — suddenly conscious that he did not yet know her well enough to utter the words on his lips ; but she looked at him with comprehension in her eyes. " A pity," she said, " that the prison has no open- ing? It may be, and yet — one can at least say, like Dante, that ' Even through the body's prison-bars One's soul possessed the sun and stars.' " " Unfortunately, they are very remote, and do not always satisfy one," said Lysle. " They did not satisfy Dante. "Where in all the world is there another face filled with such deep melancholy as his ? " " That seems to me the saddest thing about great genius," she said. " It is always so melancholy. Those who possess it are not only oppressed by the insight which enables them to see deeper into life than others, but their own lives are always so profoundly unhappy. There is hardly an exception to the rule." "Except Goethe." "I suppose Goethe was an exception — perhaps for that reason I have never found him very interesting." " He was a Greek pagan in soul — a true child of the Kenaissance," said Lysle. "That accounts for much. And then he had the good sense to live a long time. Most great geniuses die before the world knows them." "I hope you do not mean to emulate their ex- AMONG THE PINES. 31 ample, Mr. Lysle," said Mrs. Churchill, who had ap- proached in time to hear the last words. " You must not die before the world knows jou even better than it knows you now." '* That might readily be without my achieving any very great fame," said Lysle, laughing ; " but 1 have not the least intention of dying, I assure you. I find the world, with all its drawbacks, rather an amusing place." " I am afraid you will not find tliis an amusing place," said she, with a sigh. " It is really very dull. I have my house and my children to occupy me, and Hugh has his business ; but I am often sorry for Ce- cil—" " And I often tell you that there is no reason w^hy you should be," interposed the latter. " There is reason why I should be," replied Mrs. Churchill, "though that is neither here nor there. "\Yhat I was going to say is, that I fear Mr. Lysle will be bored to death." " My dear Mrs. Churchill," said Lysle, with great impressiveness, "I beg you to dismiss such an idea from yonr mind. Mere dullness — if by that you mean the absence of excitement, social or otherwise — never bores me. In fact, I like it. So much of my life has been passed at high-pressure, that I welcome any period of repose that offers itself. And I hoped that such a period was before me when I came here." "Then you were quite right," said she. "Eepose we can offer in unlimited quantity, but nothing else. We have no society, no amusements — " " Why do you tell him such things % " asked Church- 32 MISS CHURCHILL: A STUDY. il], also drawing near. "Do you suppose tliat if he had been in search of society and amusements he would have come here ? He has come to see us, and to tahe a rest in the pine-lands — eh, Bernard ? A fellow who lives as you do, must need complete rest now and then, I should think." "You think correctly," answered Lysle, "and you define my motives in coming exactly — to see you, and to rest in the pine-lands. Yoild tout ! " " I hope, then, we may be able to keep you a long time," said Mrs. Churchill, with friendly cordiality. " If we have little or nothing to offer you, you have a great deal to offer us, so the hope is a little selfish, per- haps, but very sincere. And now I must bid you good- night, for, not being strong, I am obliged to retire early. Don't let Hugh keep you up too late, or tell adventures that should be kept for the public ear. — Cecil, shall I bid you good-night also ? " "No," answered Miss Churchill, "'I will go with you." She rose, and turning toward Lysle looked at him with a smile. " I hope," she said, " that our pines may bestow on you their gift of pleasant slumber. For myself, I know I shall dream of all the wild and won- derful scenes into which you have taken us. So, good- nicfht."