A Life Sentence

Chapter 1

Enid had the look of a veritable snow-queen, thought Hubert, as he came upon her a day or tAvo later in a little salon opening out of the drawing-room, and found her gazing out upon a landscape of which all the lines were blurred in falling snow. She was dressed in a white Avoollen gown, confined at her waist by a simple white ribbon, and she had white fur at the throat and Avrists. The dead-white suited her delicate complexion and golden hair ; she had the soft and stainless look of a newly-fallen snowflake, Avhich to touch were to destroy. Hubert almost felt as if he ought not to speak VOL. II. B to one so far removed from him — one set so high above him by her innocence and purity. And yet he was bound to speak. ' You like the snoAv ?' he began. ' Yes — as much as I like anything.' ' At your age,' said Hubert, slowly, 'you should like everything.' ' You think I am so very young !' ' Well — seventeen.' ' Oh, but 1 don't feel young at all !' the girl said, half-wearily, half-bitterly. ' I seem to have lived centuries!

You know, Cousin Hubert, there are very few girls of my age who have all the trouble that I have had.' 'You haA*e had a great deal. You have been the victim of a tragedy,' said Hubert, gloomily, not able to deny the truth of her remark, even Avhile he was forced to remember that many other girls of Enid's age had far more real and tangible soitoavs than had she. The A-ision of a girl pleading with him to find her work flashed suddenly across his mind ; her words about London Bridge — ' her last resource ' — occurred to him ; and his common sense told him that, after all, Enid's position, sad and lone ly though it was, could scarcely be called so pitiable as that of Cynthia West. But it was not his part to tell her so ; his own share in pro ducing Enid's misfortunes sealed his lips. What he said, however, was almost too direct an allusion to the past to be thought sympathetic by Enid.

A very natural habit had grownup at Beechfield Hall of never mentioning her father's fate ; and this silence had had the bad result of making her brood over the matter without daring to reAreal her thoughts. The Avord ' tragedy ' seemed to her almost like a profanation. It sent the hot blood rushing into her face at once. Enid's organisation was peculiarly delicate and sensitive ; her knoAvledge of the publicity given to the details of her father's death Avas torture to her. She was glad of the seclusion in which the General hVed, because, Avhen she went into Whitminster, she wouldhear sometimes a rumour, a whispered word : ' Look — that is the daugh ter of Sydney Vane, who was murdered a few years ago ! Extraordinary case — don't you re member it ?' and the consciousness that these B words might be spoken was unbearable to her.

Hubert had touched an open wound somewhat too roughly. He saw his mistake. ' Forgive me for speaking of it,' he said. ' I fancied that you were thinking of the past.' ' Oh, no, no— not of that !' cried Enid, scarcely knowing what she said. 'Of other troubles?' Hubert queried, very softly. It was natural that he should think of what Connie had said to him quite recently. ' Yes — of other things.' ' Can you tell me what they are V he said, gently taking one of her slight hands in his own. ' Oh, no — not you !' She was thinking of him as Constance's brother, possibly even as Constance's accomplice in a crime ; but he attributed her refusal to a very different motive. Tell him her troubles ? Of course she could not do so, poor child, when her troubles came from love of him. He Avas not a coxcomb, but he believed what Connie had said.

A LIFE SENTENCE. 'Not me? You cannot tell me?' he said, drawing her away from the cold uncurtained windoAvs with his hand still on hers. ' And can I do nothing to lighten your trouble, dear ?' She looked at him doubtfully. ' I — don't — know.' ' Enid, tell me.' ' Oh, no !' she cried. ' I can't tell you — -I can't tell anyone— I must bear it all alone !' and then she burst into tears, not into noisy sobs, but into a silent passion of grief Avhich went to the very heart of the man who stood at her side. She drew her hand away from his, and laid it upou the mantelpiece, which she crept to and leaned against, sobbing miserably meanwhile, as if she needed the support that solid stone could give. Her slender figure, in its closely -fitting Avhite gown, shook from head to foot. It was as much as Hubert could do to restrain himself from putting his arm round it, draAving it closely to him, and silencing the sobs with kisses.

But his feeling was that of a grown person to a child whom he wanted to comfort and protect, A LIFE SENTENCE. not that of a man to the woman whom he loved. He waited therefore silently, with a fixed look of mingled pain and determination upon his face, until she had grown a little calmer. When at last her figure ceased to vibrate with sobs, he came closer and put his hand caressingly upon her shoulder. ' Enid,' he said, ' I have asked you before if I could make you happier ; you never answered the question. Will you tell me noAV ?' She raised herself from her drooping attitude, and stood with averted face ; but still she did not speak. ' Perhaps you hardly know Avhat I mean. I am willing — anxious — to give my whole life to you, Enid, my child. If you can trust yourself to my hands, I Avill take such care of you that you shall never kuoAV trouble or soitoav again, if care can avert it.

Give me the right to do this for you, dear. You shall not have cause to repent your trust. Look at me, Enid, and tell me that you trust me.' Why that insistence on the Avord 'trust'? Was it — strange contradiction — because he felt himself so unworthy of her confidence ? He said not a word of love. Enid looked round at him at last. Her gentle face was pale, her lashes were wet with tears, but the traces of emotion were not unbecoming to her. Even to Hubert's cold eyes, cold and critical in spite of himself, she was lovelier than ever. ' I Avant to trust you — I do trust you,' she said ; but there were trouble and perplexity in her voice. ' I don't know what to do. You would not let me be deceived, Hubert? You would not let dear uncle be tricked and cheated into thinking — thinking — by Connie, I mean — Oh, I can't tell you !

If you knew Avhat I know, you would understand.' Hubert had never been in greater danger of betraying his own secret. Knowing of no other, his first instinctive thought was that Enid had learned the true story of her father's death and Connie's share in bringing it about ; but a second thought, quickly following the first, showed him that in that case she Avould never have said that she wanted to trust him, or that he would not let her and her uncle be deceived. No, it could not be that. But Avhat was it ? By a terrible effort he kept himself from visibly blenching at her words. He stood still holding her hands, feeling himself a villain to the very lowest depths of his soul, but looking quietly* down at her, Avith even a slight smile on the lips that, do what he would, had turned pale. The ruddy firelight glancing on his face prevented this change of colour from being seen. ' But hoAV can I understand,' he said, ' Avhen I have not the slightest notion of what you mean?' ' You have not ?' ' Not the least in the world.' She crept a little closer to him. ' Yon are not sheltering Connie from punish ment ?' It was what he had been doing for the past eight years. 'Good heavens, Enid,' he cried, losing his self-possession a little for the first time, ' what on earth can you possibly mean?' She thought that he Avas indignant, and she hastened tremblingly to appease his apparent wrath. ' I don't mean to accuse you or her,' she said ; ' I have said a great deal too much.

I can trust you. Hubert — oh, I am sure I can ! Forgive me for the moment's doubt.' ' If you have not accused me, you have ac cused my sister. I must knoAv what you mean." ' Forgive me, Cousin Hubert ! I can't tell you ■ — even you.' ' But, my dear Enid, if you say so much, you must say more.' ' I Avill never say anything again !' she said, her face quivering all over like that of a troubled child. He loosed her hands and looked at her stea dily for a moment ; he had more confidence in his power over her now. 'I think you should make me understand what you mean, dear. Do you accuse my sister of anything?' She looked frightened. ' No, indeed I do not. I don't know what I am saying, Hubert. Tell me one thing. Do you think Ave should ever do wrong — or what seems to be wrong — for the sake of other people's happiness ?

Clergymen and good people say we should not ; but I do not know.' 'Enid, you have not been consulting that parson at Beechfield about it?' ' Not exactly. At least ' — the ingenuous face changed a little — 'we talked on that subject, because he kneAv that I was in trouble, but I did not tell him anything. He said one should ahvays tell the truth at any cost.' ' And theoretically one should do so,' said Hubert, trying to soothe her, yet feeling him self a corrupter of her innocent candour as he went on ; ' but practically it would not be ahvays wise or right. When you marry, Enid,' — he drew her towards him, — 'you can confess to your husband, and he Avill absolve you.' 'Perhaps that is Avhat would be best,' she answered, softly. ' To no man but your husband, Enid. She drew a quick little sigh. 'You can trust me?' he said, in a still loAver voice. ' Oh, yes,' she said — ' I am sure I can trust you !

It was only for a moment — you must not mind what I said. You will set it all right when you know.' He Avas silent, seeing that she had grasped his meaning more quickly than he had antici pated, and had, in fact, accepted him, quite simply and confidently, as her husband that Avas to be. Her childlike trust was at that moment very bitter to him. He bent his head and kissed her forehead as a father might have clone. ' My dear Enid,' he said, ' Ave must remember that you are very young. I feel that I may be taking advantage of your inexperience — as if some clay you might reproach me for it.' ' I told you I did not feel young,' she said, gently ; ' but perhaps I cannot judge. Do what you please.' The listlessness in her A*oice almost angered Hubert. 'Do you not love me then?' he asked. ' Oh, yes— I always loved you !' said the girl.

But there was no look of a woman's love in her grave eyes. ' You were always so kind to me, dear cousin Hubert ; and indeed I feel as if I could trust you absolutely. You shall decide for me in everything.' There was certainly relief in her tone ; but Hubert had looked for something more. ' I have been Avanting to speak to you for several days,' he said, ' but I have never had the opportunity before; and I must tell you, dear, that I spoke to the General before I spoke to you.' ' Oh !' Enid's fair face flushed a little. ' I thought — I did not know that you intended — when you began to speak to me first, I mean — ' Hubert could not help smiling. ' I understand ; you thought I spoke on a sudden impulse of affection, longing to comfort and help you. So I did. But that is not in compatible with previous thought and prepara tion, is it ?

Surely my care for you — my love for you — Avould be worth less as a sudden discovery than as a plant of long and hardy growth ?' He groaned inwardly at the subter fuge contained in the last few words, but he felt that it was unavoidable. Enid looked up and gave him an answering smile. ' Oh, yes, I see !' she said, hurriedly ; but there was some little dissatisfaction in her mind, she did not quite knoAv why. Even her innocent heart dimly discerned the fact that Hubert was not her ideal lover. His wooing had scarcely been ardent in tone ; and to find that it had all been discussed, mapped out, as it were, and formally permitted by the General, and perhaps by his wife, gave her a sudden chill. For Connie's interpretation of Enid's melancholy was by no means a true one. She had dreamed a little of Hubert in a A-ague romantic way, as young girls are apt to do Avhen a new-comer strikes their fancy ; but she had not set her heart upon him at all in the way AA'hich Constance had led her brother to believe.

There Avas certainly danger lest she should do so now. ' The General says,' Hubert Avent on, more lightly, ' that you cannot be expected to knoAv your own mind for a couple of years. What do you say to that ?' ' I think that Uncle Richard might know me better,' said the girl, smiling. She was still standing on the hearthrug, and Hubert put his arm round her as he spoke. 'And he will not consent even to an engage ment until you are eighteen, Enid. But he did not forbid me to speak to you and ask you whether you cared for me, and if you Avould wait two years.' 'Oh, why should it be so long?' the girl cried out ; and then she turned crimson, seeing the meaning that Hubert attached to her words. 'I only mean,' she said, 'that I wanted to tell you everything that Avas in my mind just now.' 'And can't you do it uoav, little darling?' ' No, not now.' ' I must wait for that, must I ?

We must see if we can soften the General's obdurate heart, my dear. But you are not unhappy now ?' To his surprise, the shadoAV rose again in her beautiful eyes, the lips fell into their old mourn ful lines. ' I don't knoAv,' she said, sadly. ' I ought not to be ; but, after all, perhaps this does not make things any better. Oh, I wish I could forget what I knoAv — what I have heard !' ' It is about Connie ?' said Hubert, in a whisper. She hid her face upon his shoulder without a word. 'My poor child, I am half-inclined to think that I can guess. I know that Connie's life has not been all that it should haA^e been. No, don't tell me — I will not ask you again unless you wish to confide in me.' ' You said you did not know.' ' I do not know — exactly ; but I suspect ; and, my dear Enid, Ave can do nothing.

Make your mind easy on that point. Our highest duty now is to hold our tongues.' He thought, naturally enough, that she had heard of Constance's secret interviews Avith Sydney Vane — so much, he was certain, even the village-people kneAA- — that in her visits to the cottages she had heard some story of the kmd and had been distressed — that was all. ' Do you really think so ?' said Enid, clinging to him. She was only too thankful to get rid of the responsibility of judging for herself. ' You do not think that Uncle Richard ought to know ?' ' My dear girl, what an idea ! Certainly not ! Do you want to break the old man's heart ?' ' He is very fond of little Dick,' murmured Enid, rather to herself than to him. He did not lay hold of the clue that her words might have given him if he had attended to them more closely.

He went on, encouragingly, 'And of his wife too. No, dear, we cannot wreck his happiness by scruples of that kind. We must endure our knowledge — or our sus picions, — in silence. Besides, Avhat you have heard may not be true.' 'Do you think so, Hubert?' she said, wistfully. ' It is better surely to take a charitable view, is it not ?' ' Oh, thank you ! That is just Avhat I wanted !' she said, a neAv brightness stealing into her eyes and cheeks. ' Yes, I am sure that I must have been hard and uncharitable. I will try to think better things. And, oh, Hubert, you have really made me happy now !' ' That is what 1 Avanted,' said Hubert, with a sigh, as, for the first time, he pressed his lips to hers. ' Your happiness, Enid, is all that I wish to secure.' He was in earnest ; and it did not seem hard to him that in trying to secure her happiness he had perhaps lost his own. VOL. II. C

Chapter II

' A Grand Morning Concert will be given on Thursday, June 25th, at Ebury's Rooms, by the pupils of Madame della Scala. By kind permis sion of Mr. Mapleson, the following artistes Avill appear.' Then followed a list of well-known operatic vocalists, also Miss This, That, and the Other—' and Miss Cynthia West.' The last half dozen names Avere not, as yet, famous. The above intimation, together with much detail concerning time, place, and performers, was printed on a very large gilt-edged card; and two such cards, enclosed in a thick square envelope, lay upon Hubert Lepel's breakfast table some months after the NeAv Year's holiday which he had spent at Beechfield Hall. He looked at them Avith an amused, interested smile, and read the words more than once— then, with equal interest, perused a programme of the concert, Avhich had also been enclosed. ' So it is to-day, is it?' he said to himself, as he finished his cup of coffee. ' She is late in sending me a ticket ; I shall scarcely be able to nail any of the critics for her noAV.

I would have got Gurney to Avrite her a notice if I had known earlier. Probably that is the very reason why she did not let me know — independent young woman that she is ! I'll go and see what I can do for her even at the eleventh hour. She shall have a good big bouquet for her debut, at any rate !' He sallied forth, making his way to his club, Avhere he found occasion to remark to more than one of his friends that Madame della Scala's concert Avould be worth going to, and that a young lady who had formerly been known in the theatrical world — Miss Cynthia West — would make her dibut as a public singer that afternoon. Meeting Marcus Gurney, the Avell-known musical critic of an influential paper, soon afterwards, he c2 pressed upon him his spare ticket for the con cert, and gave him to understand that it avouIcI be a really good-natured thing if he could turn in at Ebury's Rooms between three and four and write something for the Scourge that would not injure that very promising debutante, Miss West.

Marcus Gurney laughed and consented, and Hubert Avent off well pleased ; he had at least stopped the mouth of the bitterest critic in London, he reflected — for, though Gurney Avas personally one of the most amiable of men, he could be very virulent in print. Then he Avent off to Covent Garden, and selected two of the loveliest bouquets he could find — one, of course, for Cynthia, and one for her teacher, Madame della Scala. For Hubert was Avise iu his generation. He had seen very little of Cynthia West during the last feAV months, and had not heard her sing at all. Shortly after his second inter view with her, he had sent her to Italy for the Avinter, so that she might have a course of lessons from the most celebrated teacher in Milan. He was gratified to hear that there had been at least nothing to unlearn.

Old Lalli had done his work very thoroughly ; he had trained her voice as only a skilled musician could have done ; and, on hearing who had been her teacher, the great Italian maestro had thrown up his hands and asked her why she came to him. ' You will have no need of me,' he had said to her. ' Lalli — did you not know ? — he Avas once our primo tenore in opera ! He Avould have been great — ah, great — if he had not lost his voice in an expedition to your terrible England ! So he stayed there and played the violin, did he? And he taught you to sing Avith your mouth round and close like that — my own method ! La, la, la, la ! We shall see you at La Scala before we haA*e done !' But Avhen the spring came, and he himself Avas about to fulfil an engagement in Berlin, he handed Cynthia over to the care of Madame della Scala, who Avas then going to England, and advised her to sing in public — even to take a professional engagement — if she had the chance, and, if not, to spend another winter under his tuition in Milan.

So Cynthia came back to London in May, and lived with Madame della Scala, and was heard by nobody until the day of the annual semi-private concert which Madame della Scala loved to give for the benefit of herself and her best pupils. Hubert reached the rooms at three precisely. He might easily have sent in his name and obtained a little chat Avith Cynthia beforehand in the artists' room ; but he did not care to do that. He Avanted to see her first ; he was curious to know Avhether her new experiences had taken effect upon her, and how she would bear herself before her judges. He had seen her once only since her return from Italy, and then but for a few minutes in the society of other people. He could not tell whether she Avas changed or not; and he was curious to knoAv. She had written to him from Italy several times— letters like herself, vivacious, sparkling, full of spirit and humour.

He knew her A-ery well from these letters, and he Avas inclined to wish that he knew her better. He Avould see how she looked before she knew that he was present ; it would be amusing to note Avhether she found him out or not. Thus he argued to himself; and then, with perverse want of logic, after saying that he did not Avish her to knoAv that he Avas there, he sent his bouquets to the green-room for teacher and pupil alike, and compromised matters by at tachinghis card to Madame's bouquet only, and not to that which he sent to Cynthia West — a feeble compromise certainly, and entirely in effectual. He seated himself on a green-covered bench on the right-hand side of the room, and looked round him at the audience. It consisted largely of mothers and relatives of the pupils, some of whom came from the most aristocratic houses in England- — largely also of critics, and of musical persons Avith flowing hair and note-books.

Hubert knew Madame della Scala's reputation ; it Avas here that the impresario on the watch for new talent ahvays came — it was here that the career of more than one famous English singer had been successfully begun. It was of some importance, therefore, that Cynthia should sing her best and do her utmost to impress her audience. Having looked about him and consulted his programme, Hubert glanced at the platform, and was aware that a little comedy Avas being enacted for the benefit of all persons present. Madame della Scala was first led forward by a bevy of admiring pupils, Cynthia not being one, and made her bow to the audience Avith an air of gracious humility that Avas very effec tive indeed. She was a dark, thin little woman w-ho had once been handsome and Avas still striking in appearance.

She had been an operatic singer in days gone by, and had taken up the profession of a teacher only when her vocal powers began to fail. In demi-toilette, Avith ribbons and medals adorning her square cut bodice, long gloves on her hands, and a fan betAveen her fingers, the little lady curtseyed, smiled, gesticulated, in a charmingly foreign way which procured for her the warmest plaudits of the audience. One felt that, though she her self Avas not about to perform in person, she considered herself responsible for the efforts of her pupils, and made herself fascinating on their behalf. A large screen was placed on one side of the platform, and a grand piano nearly filled the other side, leaving a central place for the performers. At first Hubert had wondered Avhy the screen was there. Now he saw its use.

Madame della Scala seated herself in a chair behind it, with her face to the singers — evidently under the delusion that her figure was completely hidden from the audience, and that she could, unseen, direct, stimulate, or reprove the singers by movements of head, hands, handkerchief, and fan. The manoeuA*re would have been successful enough but for the fact that the back of the platform was entirely filled Avith a sheet of looking-glass, and that in this mirror her gestures and facial contortions were distinctly A-isible to the greater number of the audience. Hubert found great satisfaction in watching the different expressions of her countenance ; he told himself that madame's face was the most interesting part of the performance. How sweetly she smiled at her favourite pupils from the shadow of the screen !

How she nodded her head and beat time with her fingers to the songs they sang ! How, in moments of uncontrollable excitement, she waved her hands and swayed her body and gesticulated with her fan ! It Avas a comedy in dumb show. And as each girl-singer, after performing her part and curt seying to the audience, passed her teacher on the way to the artists' room, madame seized her impulsively by both hands and drew her doAvn to impress a kiss of satisfaction on the per former's forehead. The woman's old charm as an actress, the southern grace and excitability and warmth, Avere neA'er more evident than Avhen reflected in madame's movements behind the screen that afternoon, and visible to the audience — did she know it, after all ? — only in a looking-glass. The humour of the situation impressed Hu bert, and made him glad that he had come.

The whole scene had something foreign, some thing half theatrical about it. An English teacher of music Avould have effaced herself — would have shaken with nervousness and scowled at her pupils. Madame had no idea of effacing herself at all. She Avas benignity, composure, affability incarnate. The girls were all her ' dear angels,' who Avere helpingto make her concert a success. When, at a preconcerted signal in the middle of the afternoon, she was led forward by one of her most distinguished pupils, and presented by a group of adoring girls with a great basket of floAvers, her Avhole face beamed with satisfaction, her medals and orders and brooches twinkled responsh*ely as she curtseyed, waved her fan, spread out her lace and silken draperies, and slid gracefully back into the screen's obscurity once more.

Only one little contretemps occurred to mar the harmony of the scene. Just as madame had returned to her seat, the screen, displaced a little by her moA*ement, fell over, dragging doAvn flower-pots and ferns, and almost upsetting madame herself. The bevy of girls rushed to pick her up, gentlemen and attendants came to the rescue, and in a fe\v minutes madame Avas reinstated, a little shaken and flustered, but amiable as ever, the screen Avas replaced more securely, and the concert proceeded with decorum. But where all this time was Cynthia ? She had not joined the cluster of girls who presented the flowers to madame and ran to pick her up Avhen the screen fell down. Madame was reserving Cynthia for a great effect. She did not appear until nearly the end of the first part of the concert, when she came on to sing an Italian aria. ' More beautiful than ever !' Avas Hubert's first reflection. 'More beautiful than I remembered her !