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NEW NOVELS AT ALL LIBRARIES. MICHELINE. By Hector Malot, translated by Julia Rae. 2 VOlS. LIFE'S TAPESTRY. By Caradoc Granhim. 3 vols. A SECRET OF THE PAST. By Victor O'D. Power. 3 vols. BEERIS. By K. S. Macquoid. 2 vols. ROY OF ROY'S COURT. Ey Wm. Westall. 2 vols. CONSTANCE. By F. C. Philips. 3 vols. BY ESM£ STUART AUTHOR OF ((A FAIRE DAMZEL," "ONE FOR THE OTHER, "JOAN VELLACOT," ETC. " Could we by a wish Have what we will and get the future now, Would we wish aught done undone in the past IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. ILi. LONDON WARD AND DOWNEY 12 YORK STREET COVENT GARDEN W.C. 1S93 CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. LOVE AND LOVERS ..... I II. SECRET DRAWERS . . . . .14 III. MINNIE'S SCHEMES . . . -31 IV. A LOVER'S PLEADING . . . -45 V. AN OLD DIARY . . . . 6l VI. IT MEANS NOTHING . . . .Si VII. " THE WHOLE TRUTH " . . . -95 VIII.

MINNIE'S ENGAGEMENT . . . . Io8 IX. AT UNTERBERG AGAIN . . . -117 X. THE OTHER GIRLS . . . . .129 XI. PERFECTLY OPEN ..... 143 XII. ANOTHER MISS EVANS . . . -154 XIII. A COUNTERPART . . . . . 167 XIV. A DISCOVERY . . . . -175 XV. HUNTING FOR PROOF . . . -191 XVI. DRIVEN AWAY . . . . .211 XVII. A WILD NIGHT ..... 222 XVIII. CONQUERED ...... 234 XIX. NO DOUBTS . . . . . -251 XX. FAITHFUL AND FAITHLESS .... 269 XXI. LOVE ON EARTH ..... -»®«-

Chapter I. Love And Lovers

There was quite a joyful bustle and commotion at the Warren. The house was full of guests, and the Miss Gordons were finding life so in tensely pleasant that all the past years of struggles seemed to be forgotten and buried for ever. The bustle was caused by a sudden altera tion of plans, for Beatrice was to be married in December, as Colin had settled that, before re joining his regiment, he wished to take his wife to see Rome and to make her acquainted with what was most worth seeing in Europe. Mrs. Gordon, already weary of her future son-in law's frequent visits, assented with undisguised pleasure, saying that as Austin was now with VOL. III. A them it was really far better to have the wedding at once. Austin had waited to see whether Sidney's father would get well ; but he was still an in valid, and there seemed no prospect of his resum ing the post of tutor.

So Austin stayed at home, getting thoroughly out of tune with himself and the world. He wanted to be doing something; but his mother had always some fresh pretext for keeping him "just a little longer." There was really no hurry, she said ; he could afford to rest a little, because, of course, the first wedding in the family must see them all together in this dear old home. " Home" was already an ac cepted fact; the Warren, the yearly income, the superior county society — all that made life pleasant was taken as a matter of course by Mrs. Gordon. The reward was quite equal to her and she felt that she had not during all the past years wished in vain. Beatrice alone could not settle down in the new home. She was so soon to leave it, and in her heart she loved their old one best. There it was that she had first known Colin, and there her mind had awakened to new life and new as pirations; there Colin had taught her that there was something to be desired beyond mere worldly prosperity, which was the only creed she had been taught.

She had hoped that Austin would at once fraternise with Colin ; but in this she was dis appointed. Both men were reserved, and she noticed that Austin was changed, though she could not account for the change or his pre occupied look. One day in November, just as the wedding had been definitely fixed for the next month, Beatrice begged Austin to come and take a long walk with her; she was, said she, going to see the gardener's wife, who was ill. No one but Beatrice cared to find out whether the gardener had a wife or whether she were ill or well. The brother and sister were a handsome couple ; and the latter looked thoroughly happy. But it was otherwise with Austin; he seemed to be always thinking of something unconnected with the Warren. Suddenly he remarked: " I must say, Bee, that though I am glad you are going to 'pastures new,' I feel I ought to be pitied a little ; the other two are so engrossed in their own affairs that home will be quite different without you.

I wish I were already off." " I can't think why it is, but since you went abroad, Austin, somehow you are not the same. What did Mr. Jones do to you? Was he very — " "He was a very good fellow; indeed, he was excellence itself. I am glad I went, that is, as far as he is concerned." "If it wasn't that I am sure you are not, I should say, Austin, that you were in love," and Beatrice, laughing, put her arm into her brother's and looked up in his face; but seeing that Austin did not laugh, she at once became grave. "Oh, Austin, it is that! I do hope it isn't a foreigner you saw at — " "Why not a foreigner?" he" said, a little quickly. Now that the ice was broken, it was almost a comfort to mention the subject to some one. "Because mother would object so very much, I am sure; only I think the girl you would care about must be nice, you dear old fellow."

"I'm going to trust you, Bee — can I?" "Please do, Austin; I ought now to be able to understand something about it ; but it does seem strange you should be in love. Somehow it never struck me that you would care for any one unless she were quite specially nice and almost too good to live." "And so she is; only, Bee, she won't have me, and I can hear nothing of her here. I wrote to the old professorin, but her writing powers are so very small, she only thanked me in the briefest terms, and hoped I found rhy honoured mother well, but not a word about her. "What is her name?" "Grace Evans. There is not much in the name; but if you could see 'her,' Bee, you would know that a man can't love twice if he loved her first." "But she is not a German!"' "Who said she was? No, she is English, only there seems some misfortune or mystery about the family; she was a governess out there."

" Oh ! " said Beatrice, rather disappointed. The romance was just a little too ordinary and commonplace. "A governess!" "Did you expect her to be a princess in dis guise?" asked Austin, a little crossly. "It is just like a woman ; they go by what a girl pos sesses. I don't care a straw about that." "Perhaps Minnie and Frances would, but indeed, Austin, I know better now. I don't be lieve we are really happier since we have got more money; and of course we receive more company and wear finer clothes, but mother often looks worried, and Minnie can't make up her mind about that poor fellow. It is a shame to treat him as she does ; he thinks so much of her, and she just plays with him. I couldn't behave like that to Colin; only the case is different, as Colin can't be compared with any other man.

"Look here, Bee," Austin said, suddenly, stopping short, "I shan't be able to stand this suspense much longer; sometimes I feel as if I must run off to Germany and ask her again, as if I must make her have me." " She must be a very stupid girl if she won't, Austin. Perhaps she is like Minnie, and doesn't know her own mind. I wish I could see her, and then I could tell her." "It would be no good, Bee. There is some thing I don't know — something that makes me feel that she thinks she can never marry any one. That is the hardest thing to fight against. She won't even try to like me. I don't believe a woman knows what it is to be in love," and Austin smiled, of course expecting the storm that came down upon him. " How can you say so ? Why, woman and constancy are almost synonymous terms, Austin !

Love means quite as much to a woman as to a man." Austin was incredulous, but he was more than willing to answer Bee's questions as to this unknown Grace, for now that the flood gate was opened his tongue could run on easily enough. When they reached the cottage, Beatrice made Austin come in with her, as she felt shy. Two boys with rough red hair were standing at the door, and remarked with a broad grin that mother was worse. The poor woman was, however, sitting close to the fire in her small room, and the brother and sister sat down and sympathetically listened to the history of the sprained foot which now kept her a prisoner. "I'm sure it's very good of you to come all this long way to see me, miss. This be a dreary country in the winter, and this cottage ain't fit for decent folk ; but my husband can't get a better one.

Mr. James Gordon, him as is dead, his gardener lived here." "This cottage does not belong to my mother, I think," said Austin. " No, sir, it don't; I wish it did. My neighbour Mrs. Smith's cottage, that un belongs to Mrs. Gordon. Mr. James Gordon's young ladies were very kind to her ; she often talks on 'em, that she do ; but their father was a strange gentleman, and the poor folk was mortal afeared of him." " Mr. Gordon had not any children," said Beatrice, in a decided tone, because she was afraid the good woman was romancing. " Per haps, however, they were some relations." " Mrs. Smith said as how they were his daughters, miss ; but she do tell long stories. It was the night afore I fell down that she was telling me about the eldest on 'em, and how she wondered where they was." The subject now turned to the even more in teresting subject of the fall, and then Beatrice, having given the woman some money — knowing nothing on the question of relies, or how the rules of political economy were thus infringed — she and her brother took leave, and left the cottage.

" I always thought Mr. Gordon lived alone," said Bee, when they were together again. " How strange it is that mother never men tioned any ladies living with him. He couldn't have had children, however, or we should not be enjoying these good things." " Perhaps adopted children," suggested Austin. " They were kind to the people, evidently. I wish Frances would visit our cottages ; but she is always busy." Austin did not wish to interfere about his sister's occupations, but he pondered as to the young ladies who had lived at the Warren. However, he soon relapsed into another subject of thought that was seldom long away from his mind. What was Grace doing ? How was she getting on ? Would she want him once more to act as protector ? Had that vain beautiful Sibyl got into any more scrapes ? Austin had not much patience with Sibyl ; but then he was not in love with her.

When the pair reached home it was already getting dark, but in the drawing-room the scene was gay and pleasant. A large fire was blazing in the grate ; Minnie was entertaining young Harry Laurence by strumming over some new song he had brought for her, and he stood de vouring her with his eyes ; Mrs. Gordon was talking politics with a grey-headed colonel who had ridden over from the camp ; and Frances was arranging some dowers. " My son — Colonel James," said Mrs. Gordon in a proud voice, for Austin was certainly a son to be proud of ; indeed, all her children were a source of maternal satisfaction to her. Strange, that at this moment two of the present owners of the Warren were thinking of the former pos sessors. Austin thought of Grace, and Beatrice wondered if the young ladies had regretted leav ing this pretty drawing-room, where, from the western bay, the sunset could be seen through a sloping bank planted with fir-trees.

" I think that your voice beats all the others in the neighbourhood," murmured Harry to Minnie under cover of the conversation. " I should like to hear you sing every day." "What a dull business that would be," laughed o Minnie. " Not for me, 'pon my word." " But it would be very dull for me." Harry sighed ; yes, he knew he wasn't worthy of this perfect siren, only he did love her. He could not do more— or less. " Your sister's wedding will be a very gay affair, I suppose," he said at last ; his thoughts were running on weddings. " Oh, I don't know ; I think weddings stupid. However, I am glad it isn't mine." " Why, Miss Minnie ? " " Because I should hate to — marry Captain Grant." "That's fortunate; at least, I think so. I fancy he must be a good fellow, though. He looks it." " I hate good fellows, they bore me."

Harry sincerely hoped at this moment that he was not a good fellow. " You are made to marry a — duke, I think, Miss Minnie." " I think they are already all taken up, "I'm glad they are." Harry said that from the bottom of his heart. " Why ? " asked Minnie, raising her eyes to wards him. Why are women so maddening ? Why do they ask " Why ? " when they know the answer, or when the man they ask is in a drawing-room full of people, and when there is no possibility of his telling the beloved the reason why — the real one, at least ? " Because — because a duke has such a pull upon other fellows." "Ah! so he has. I suppose," and Minnie put on a very meditative tone, " I suppose they really can marry any one they like, and other men can't." " Why can't they ? " It was now his turn to ask why. " Because so often they haven't a title or heaps of money, or — " "You mean a duke can afford to be a fool."

Minnie pretended to be shocked at this strong word. " I didn't say that ; but I suppose if a duke asked a girl to sing the same song every day, she would do it." Harry was beaten for to-day ; he couldn't make an offer after that, and yet he really had come on purpose to do it this time, as he had many other times before ; still it was better to come and be repulsed than to be rejected alto gether. He had not yet learnt that some women can be asked many times before they say yes. Beatrice had been near enough to overhear this conversation ; it made her feel miserable. Had not Colin once suffered from such a heartless girl ? She knew now what he then had felt. Her heart went out towards Harry — rough, foolish, honest Harry, with a heart made of tender stuff after all. That evening she tried to win over Minnie ; she might as well have tried to stop the moon's onward course.

" Minnie, he does love you. If only — ' " I suppose you don't mean to say that you are jealous of his admiring me, Bee," she said, cuttingly. Beatrice, blushing with hurt pride and in dignation, beat a retreat. Minnie was not to be advised by her younger sister, especially after that younger sister's behaviour.

Chapter II. Secret Drawers

Mrs. Gordon had several small anxieties, in spite of the outside public believing her to be the happiest woman in the world. The truth was she had lost sight of Grace and Sibyl, and this important fact made her feel very ill at ease. She had lately written to Fraulein Storme to ask news of them ; but she had received in answer a polite note to say that Fraulein Storme had made inquiries, but she discovered that the young ladies had not found teaching profitable, as she had warned them, and they had therefore left the place ; but she did not know whether they were in Germany or had returned to Eng land. Mrs. Gordon thought that if these girls should some day appear at the door of the Warren, then all her little schemes of secrecy would be at an end. That youngest girl looked equal to anything !

Imaginary troubles are more difficult to combat than real sorrows, as Mrs. Gordon soon found ; and just because hers were purely im aginary, they constantly worried her, and would not depart. Every time she came in from a walk she fancied she saw the dispossessed girls at the door. Often it was only Minnie and Bee, at other times total strangers, or even well known callers. This discovery would make Mrs. Gordon laugh and scold herself for being so foolish ; however, the very next time she saw two girlish figures at the door the idea returned. Perhaps it was this constant expectation of something unpleasant that gave Mrs. Gordon bad, sleepless nights. Sometimes she would lie awake and wonder what those two girls were doing. She knew they were without money and without rich friends. If only they had been ugly and common-looking, then she would have comforted herself with the idea that most likely they would go "out to service ; " but, recalling their grace and beauty, which had been such a surprise to her, that idea looked ridiculous.

On the night after that day on which Austin and Bee had heard of the existence of James Gordon's daughters, Mrs. Gordon lay awake making plans to ensure the success of Bee's wedding. Several friends from Longham were coming, and the Warren must be made to hold them all, for neighbours were scarce and the town too far off to be of use. Thus planning, after a time she fell asleep, but her slumber was of an uneasy kind. In her dreams she was conscious of a strange fear, and at last woke with a start. She always burnt a night-light in her room, and this was placed on the top of the old bureau, which she had not had moved. Now opening her eyes, she looked towards the light, which was still burning, but it seemed to her that someone — it looked like the figure of a man — was sitting before the bureau, which appeared to be open.

Mrs. Gordon was a courageous woman, she did not believe in ghosts, so that her first idea was that a burglar had entered her room, and was trying to rob her ; her next thought was, " There is nothing of value to be found there ; " but even a woman of courage reasonably objects to a night visitor, so very quietly the widow sat up in bed and strained her eyes to distinguish the figure, then, though her heart beat fast, she said, firmly : "Who is there?" She expected the thief to start up and make for the door ; her hand was on the bell-rope to summon help ; but to her in tense surprise the figure appeared to turn its head, and she saw the profile. The likeness to the Gordons struck her at once, and a shiver of intense fear ran through her, even though she found courage to spring out of bed, and to walk straight to the bureau without being conscious of any change or movement in the figure.

But suddenly all disappeared ; indeed, as she gazed it seemed to her that the profile turned into a piece of white paper which was lying on the bureau, and the figure she had seen so distinctly was simply an old oak chair drawn near to the bureau, which, now she was near it, she saw was not even open, whilst the night-light was just flickering down in the socket. Mrs. Gordon hastily lit a candle and looked round, but every thing was as usual, and in another moment she recognised that she must have been asleep and dreaming of James Gordon. Her waking brain had evidently kept the impress of her dream, and thus she had imagined a ghost. Mrs. Gordon sat down a minute upon the oak chair and watched the last guttering of the night-light, and leaving the candle alight she went back to bed with the reflection : " If I were like many women I should say I had seen a ghost.

I ex pect most ghost stories, if examined, would dwindle into white paper and dark arm-chairs." VOL. III. D Thus thinking she fell asleep, but the next morn ing she found the bad night had considerably shaken her nerves, and when she looked at the oak chair it would turn into the similitude of a man's back which came back to her memory in a very vivid manner. She felt so tired that she decided to breakfast in bed, and later on it was Beatrice who came up to sympathise and to apologise for the trouble her affairs gave her mother. "You are tiring yourself out for me, mother dear. I don't half express my gratitude, but you do believe in it, don't you? If we might only have a very quiet wedding, Colin and I should be quite satisfied, and you would have less worry." " Nonsense, Bee ; what would the neigh bourhood think of us if we did not do things as others in our set ?

" "But why must weddings be for the grati fication of other people ? " " Beatrice, you always were foolish, and never could understand what was fitting. Pray say no more about it, and let me judge what is necessary to be done, and what is best for you." " Only to see just our own people would be best for me," said Bee, smiling. " Not at all. By the way, Beatrice, I was thinking this morning that you had no writing table in your room. Would you like to have this old bureau ? It is one of the worthless things we found here." "That dear old thing! I should like it so much, and I could put my presents in it ; but are you sure you can spare it ? " "I don't much care about it; it rather fills up my room. Yes, I think I will tell Philips to move it into yours to-day, and also that chair that belongs to it."

Beatrice knowing nothing of Mrs. Gordon's bad dream, thanked her mother heartily, and went downstairs again, looking cheerful. After all, her mother did care for her a little, personally ; it was not only as some one to provide for that she took all this trouble about her. Half the love in the world loses much of its value by being always unexpressed, till some times the recipients begin to doubt it altogether. This little episode added to the girl's happiness. Her life had gone on so smoothly, so happily, that it was only on the eve of becoming a wife that she began dreaming over life's problems. Colin Grant must find in her enough to make up for his past unhappiness ; he must find the comfort that he had missed in early days ; and the dread that she would not be good or clever enough for him now and then made her sad and thoughtful.

The breakfast-table this morning at the Warren was outwardly a very bright, happy scene. Austin was trying to find out from Minnie what was her idea of matrimonial bliss ; Frances was mentally counting up the people who must be asked to Beatrice's wedding break fast, because they had given handsome presents ; and Bee, when she came downstairs, had enough work to do in opening various wedding gifts. She and Colin quite agreed that it was really tiresome to be obliged to accept presents from mere acquaintances who sent them because they felt they would be expected to do so. Bee wished much to have the power to refuse them ; but what would her mother have said to this ? It was not to be thought of. "Oh dear, how tiresome!" suddenly ex claimed Beatrice; "here is a present from Mr. Laurence — a locket with a diamond on it."

Minnie jumped up to see the jewel, feeling decidedly envious of these presents, but comfort ing herself with the idea : " When my turn comes I shall have better things than these." " That is hardly a grateful manner of receiv ing gifts," said Austin, laughing. " Perhaps you think it was meant for Minnie ? " " For me, indeed ! I don't think Mr. Laurence would dare to offer me a present." " I daresay you would accept it if he did," replied Frances, smiling. " Bee, did mother say she wanted me this morning ? " " No, she wants to be left alone. But do go soon and see her ; she looked so pale and ill." " This wedding business does tire her," said Frances. " I am sure it isn't my wish, or Colin's," said Bee, blushing. " You are both too virtuous to wish for any thing showy," remarked Minnie, in her gentle sarcastic voice, making Bee blush again with anger ; and Austin remarked, quietly : " Do you disapprove of virtue, Minnie ?

" " It's all hypocritical, I believe. Bee used to like pretty things as much as any of us, and since her engagement she pretends the contrary." " Indeed, I don't pretend," and Bee's eyes filled with tears caused by wounded pride. Austin wondered how Grace would have looked if placed in the midst of his family, and then suddenly he was struck with a revelation. Grace Evans had always reminded him of someone, and he now found that someone to be his own sister Minnie ! The expression was certainly different, but the features had a strong, decided likeness. He was almost sorry at this discovery, but it made him feel more brotherly towards his vain and selfish sister. Beatrice, feeling quite unnerved by Minnie's remarks, suddenly gathering up her letters, walked away and shut herself up in the library, where the family usually wrote letters.

It was hard to be always misunderstood and scorned by her sister, but it was equally wrong of her to mind, when she was possessed of earth's greatest blessing — the love of a good man. So thought Bee, trying to calm herself and to feel charitably towards Minnie. Austin looked in in a few minutes. " Hulloa, Bee, you are not sulking ?" Bee laughed. Austin's face was like bright sunshine. " No, only Minnie's remarks are hard to bear ; she is far worse than she used to be at the Villa. There, at all events, we did live at peace, but since we have come here nothing pleases her." " Her trials, my dear Bee, are numerous, certainly, and you don't see them ; but I, too, must plead guilty of envy." " Poor Austin," said Bee, rising and linking her arm into that of her brother, " can't you manage to forget her ?

I know mother has several ' delightful girls ' in her mind for you. She was saying so last week." " She is not wishing me to commit bigamy, is she ? But seriously, Bee, could you leave off liking Colin now and quietly put up with another ? " " Of course not! " " That's just what I feel about her. She is my fate, Bee ; I know that after your wedding I must go and see her, wherever she is. I must find out why she won't let me love her. I find I can't even take up my reading as I did formerly. I cannot settle down to anything." " There are enough books here, certainly, if reading could make up for a real person. By the way, the other day I found here a book belonging to a ' Grace Gordon ; ' that must be one of the young ladies the old woman was talking of to-day. I wonder what relations they were to James Gordon ?

I must ask mother. Do you know she looked really ill this morning? " "It was strange she never told us anything about this James Gordon in our young days. I must say it was very good and wise of her. We should have lived on expectation." "Yes, only his money has not brought us much happiness. Mother looks much more worried at times now than she ever did at Longham, and Minnie is cross and Frances overdone." " Riches and cares come always together ; that's only fair. When you are mistress of the Towers, we shall see wrinkles on your forehead, Miss Bee, as deep as cart-ruts." " I don't think we shall have much trouble. Colin means to do a great deal in the parish, and he has pet schemes for soldiers' widows, and heaps of things. Look, Austin, here is the little book ; we must ask mother about it."