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I ■ I I I ■ BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 'LORD FLOYSHAM' A NOVEL 2 Vols. 21s. EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS. ' Lord Floysham is the chief of a symposium at which all sorts of topics, such as the difference between Gentlemen and Snobs, the Position of Roman Catholics, the Moral of Gambling Spas, are discussed in a bright and refined manner. The dialogues between Madame Galvarey and her maid are good enough for comedy.' — The Times. ' Lively and well written medley, in which Politics, Religion, Love and Whist play parts. The Electioneering Campaign is excellently described.' — Athenæum. 'A different book from any other. The Essays are as well written as the Tattler. Not without attraction for unquiet souls who are^.vexed'by urgent social problems.' — Spectator. Ay- . ■ ' There are clever sofiches as well as cynical bits.

Mr Walpole writes well, and in good English.' — Vanity Fair. 'A socio-political novel, with good character studies, and full of clever sayings.' — Morning Post. ' Light and amusing from beginning to end.' — Daily Chronicle. ' One of the brightest books of the season.' — County Gentleman. ' Very interesting novel. The writing very clever.' — Dundee Advertiser. 'Very much above the average of fiction. More readable than one novel in ten.' — Aberdeen Free Press. 'The production of a clever man of the world.' — Slicfficld Daily Telegrapli. BY F. G. WALPOLE Author os' Lord Floysham,' &c. LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. ■0-

Chapter I

Lady de Rasleigh and her son Sir Hubert, having finished breakfast in one of the spacious rooms in Marley Castle, they remained silent for a time, and their countenances bore traces of sadness. Sir Hubert was the first to speak, and as if in continuation with a subject before discussed, he said, — ' Yes, mother, I can see little hope of saving the property.' Lady de Rasleigh looked at her son, and replied, — ' I don't quite despair. You are young, Hubert, and should marry. There are heiresses, who would be only too happy to marry you, who represent one of the oldest families in the kingdom ; and, Hubert, Marley Castle is a magnificent place.' ' Yes, mother ; it is from a distance. It looks grand to a stranger : its old battlements, the moat A and drawbridge carry the beholder back to past ages, and inspire romantic thoughts ; but I am not so inspired.

It reminds me of the scenery at the theatre, which looks well in front ; but we, mother, are behind the scenery.' ' I fear that there is truth in what you say, Hubert.' ' Yes, mother ; the shell is all that is left. The place fills me with gloom. There is not a room which does not bear evidence of our poverty. I feel, at times, inclined to pull down the emblazoned coat-of-arms which now adorns the great hall ; the old armour, the helmets and plumes are all gone. ' Hubert, that would be folly ; we have little enough left.' ' And,' continued Sir Hubert, ' the empty pedes tals, once filled with fine pieces of sculpture, the worn and faded furniture ; what remains, mother, seems to mock our former grandeur.' As Sir Hubert said this, he looked up at a portrait of an ancestor which hung upon the wall, and which bore a striking resemblance to himself. ' An ill-fated family, mother,' he added, as he continued to gaze at the portrait.

Lady de Rasleigh turned her eyes to the portrait, and said, — ' Yes, Hubert ; many of your ancestors have in the past rendered brilliant services to the State, but there are, in the history of your family, dark pages, and the career of Sir Marmion, whose por trait so much resembles you, was, from all accounts, disastrous.' ' I wish, mother, that the likeness were less strik ing. I have been endeavouring to trace his history, and the records are gloomy.' ' What have you learned, Hubert ? ' ' He married early in life to the lady whose portrait hangs next to Sir Marmion's. Her name was Griselda ; and if the artist can be trusted, which there is no reason to doubt, as the portrait is evidently painted by the same hand as that of her husband, the Lady Griselda was of a gentle and sweet disposition, and differed much in these qualities from Sir Marmion, whose countenance, mother, betrays an imperious temper.' ' She must have been, to judge from the portrait, a very beautiful woman, Hubert.' ' Yes, mother ; and she was as good as she was beautiful ; and she suffered much.

It appears that Sir Marmion got into money difficulties, and was compelled to sell a portion of the estate, the family plate and jewels ; that he eloped with the wife of a neighbouring squire, fought a duel and killed the lady's husband ; that he for a time left the country, and that on his return he turned Protestant and deserted to Cromwell. I gather that the elope ment and tragedy, in which he had been the principal actor, had caused his former friends to shun him, and that this influenced him in attaching himself to the Parliamentary army. He appears to have been taken prisoner by the Royalists and sentenced to be shot. That he was under sentence of death I learned from the finding of a letter written to him by his wife, in these words : — '"Betrayed, but faithful, I have sought your pardon, and it has been granted.

Repent while there is yet time. Remember that life is but a journey to the tomb. YOUR GRISELDA." ' Sir Marmion afterwards returned to Marley Castle, but little is known of the life he there led. He left suddenly one day, and was never after wards heard of by his wife. He appears to have left a letter addressed to her : — '"I leave you, Griselda, for your sake. In the direst hours of my life, and at all times, even when my crimes seemed to call to heaven for vengeance, you and you alone reigned in my heart. Yes, I never ceased to love you, you and you only ; but I was faithless, and so, may be, you thought I had ceased to love you ; think it not. Faithless to myself, faithless to the glorious traditions of my race, my love for you, that love which is real, and which is blended with worship for your angelic nature, is as deeply rooted as it is constant It is your sweetness which has made me shudder at myself.

My selfish and imperious temper has been replaced by humility. No ; that would be a virtue, and I claim none, but by abiding sadness, I would ask your pardon for all the pain which I have caused you, but that your gentle nature knows nought but charity. Oh, that I could find rest from weary self-reproach in my ancestral home. Alas ! my past there is too real. I seek repose far away ; may I, in the cloister, find solace, for which I supplicate your prayers. - Marmion." 'The following words appear to have been written at the foot of the letter by his wife : — " The will of God be done ; may be it is best that a proud but broken heart should be screened from an earthly past to gaze on heaven. "Griselda."' Lady de Rasleigh looked anxiously at her son : the history of Sir Marmion had distressed her, for she felt that in character, as well as in physiognomy, her son resembled this ancestor.

Sir Hubert was strikingly handsome, dark wav ing hair, large deep blue eyes, jet black moustache, a full mouth. His countenance-portrayed force and generosity, and it would have been at all times attractive, but for a frequent curl of the upper lip, which conveyed an expression of disdain and cynicism. He was only twenty-four, but his mind was in harmony with the gloomy aspects of the castle, and there was usually a passive sadness in the expression of his face which made him look older. After a pause Lady de Rasleigh said, — ' Hubert, I have some good news ; Lady Hamp shire has written to me, advising that you should by all means go to London for the season. She says that she is quite sure that she will be able to ensure that you will find London life agreeable.' Sir Hubert at first raised objections, but in the end assented, and within a few days he was launched in the fashionable London world, to satisfy the wishes of a fond and vain mother, who was convinced that the world could not fail to appreciate the good looks and merits of her son.

She looked forward to a grand and rich marriage for him, and hoped that he might by this means retrieve the fallen fortunes of his house. In society Sir Hubert was made much of. His charms were appreciated by the fair sex, and more than one lady of fashion risked her reputation for him. Amidst fortune's favours Sir Hubert forgot his mother's admonition, and heiresses who had lost their heart to Sir Hubert, arid who might have been secured, found consolation elsewhere. His mother, who felt bitterly the penury to which they had been reduced, and whose then almost only solace was in the love which she bore her son, parted in secrecy with some valuable remnants of jewellery in order to enable Sir Hubert to live, for a while at least, in the best society. This fond and scheming mother, like many others, unwittingly helped to frustrate the result on which she had set her heart.

Ease and affluence are not commonly stepping stones to self-help, and Sir Hubert, en abled to live a life of luxury and pleasure with men who were far richer than himself, did not, while enjoying the present, count the cost in the future. On his arrival in town he was taken under the protection of the Dowager Countess of Hampshire, a cousin of his father. The Countess was old and wrinkled, but, nevertheless, strikingly handsome. She was, moreover, exceeding popular and fashionable. She was very clever, but singu larly free from any of the accomplishments. She had never painted, sung, or exhibited any other musical talent, yet distinguished artists and musicians were frequently found in her salons, and the Countess was pronounced by them to be a woman of singularly good taste and judgment in art and music.

She had married young, and when she made her de'but in society she at once made her mark, and her position in the beau monde was assured. Pretty, or rather handsome, lively and witty, and with an extraordinary talent of savoir faire, which she retained to the end of her days, she became a power in the world of fashion. People often asked one another why Lady Hampshire was so much the rage ; other ladies with higher rank and larger purses, it was said, had a better right than Lady Hampshire to fill the position of leader. True, but these ladies had not in so great a degree the qualities in which Lady Hampshire excelled — tact and freedom from prejudice — and yet Lady Hampshire was constantly accused of want of tact. You might meet at her house on the same night an Imperial Highness and an Italian patriot, and the world said, ' What a want of tact ; but then, you know, Lady Hampshire may do anything.' Lady Hampshire knew exactly what the world would say, and knew that in doing anything which other people did not dare do, was one of the reasons why she held her sway.

In truth, Lady Hampshire was large-hearted, and extraordinarily free from prejudice. She liked the Tory Prime Minister, because he was so chivalrous. She liked the Liberal Prime Minister, because he was so earnest in reforming abuses. She didn't know what the reforms or abuses were, nor did she care. Why should she ? She might have been called on to agree or disagree with any particular reform, and she had too much tact to identify herself with any disputed opinions. She was kind to the Radi cal leader, because he had such odd ideas about the redistribution of wealth ; but she did not like him much, because she thought that the odd ideas were foolish, and her beneficent nature rebelled as much as such a nature could against fools. This feeling was, no doubt, the result of fools being wanting in the matter of tact in which Lady Hampshire so excelled.

Lady Hampshire could lookbenignly upon anyone, no matter how outrageous his views, or how much they differed from her own, but she had no liking for fools, and persons who held extravagant views, and expressed them with much combativeness and noise, were classed by Lady Hampshire in that category. It might be assumed that Lady Hampshire had no preferences. This was not the case. She was very sensitive in respect of good manners. She had been brought up in the old school, and liked young ladies to be simple and maidenish. She had also a great weakness for personal beauty, which was not confined to the fair sex only. She had pleasant recollections of the D'Orsay period, and young men who were well dressed found favour in her eyes. She had never been reconciled to the modern fashion of groomy legs and ungloved beefy hands.

In short, at Lady Hampshire's receptions one met the best-looking and best-dressed of the human race ; and the celebrities of the day of all parties congregated there. Her house was neutral ground for politicians, of which they eagerly availed themselves, because to be admitted into Lady Hampshire's circle added somewhat, in many cases, to their social status, and could in no way compromise their political position. It may seem strange that where politicians, artists, scientists, and all the 'disputations' met, there should be absolutely no friction, and yet that the gathering should be gay and lively. The fact was, that it was understood that at Lady Hampshire's everyone must leave his or her combative hobby with the wraps, in charge of the hall porter, and on no account take it up again until that functionary had again seen you safely deposited in your carriage.

It would occasionally happen that someone forgot to leave a hobby of the sort with the wraps, but this was considered so great an outrage that such an event created quite a sensation. A lady, a novice be it said in extenuation, on one occasion took the Primrose League upstairs with her, and after dilating upon its great importance, asked Lady Hampshire her opinion, to which Lady Hampshire replied, ' So pretty, so very pretty, my dear.' The Russian Ambassador smiled at the discomfiture of the Primrose, and the disconcerted Primrose blushed. Lady Hampshire was charmed with Sir Hubert. His handsome face was alone sufficient to ensure a gracious reception, and his manners, which were highly polished without being effeminate, completely captivated the old Countess's heart. He frequently dined with Lady Hampshire, where none were in vited except the chosen people of society — and so became acquainted with the elite of the beau monde.

He soon found himself in a coterie distinguished by rank and wealth, and was fascinated by a life which left nothing to be desired, either in refinement or luxury. Nobody was better able than Lady Hampshire to further Lady de Rasleigh's views, but she liked Sir Hubert too well to wish to see him sacrificed to an early marriage. She would say to herself, ' Sir Hubert is an ornament in the very best set. He will enjoy himself, and be a source of pleasure to others. Let the dear boy enjoy himself for a while, and retrieve the family estates later.' This was natural, but in the case of Sir Hubert not wise. There are some natures so orderly that they can command their actions. They lay out their daily, monthly, and yearly lives in sections, and carry out the arrangements fixed upon. It is recorded of a man, whom nothing would tempt to depart from his programme, that a letter was brought to him which he expected, and which he knew from the deep black edge of the envelope would inform him of the death of his dearest friend ; he put the letter down, ate his breakfast, ordered his dinner, and then in due course went to his study at the stated time and read his letters.

He opened the doleful letter, and then shed tears. With some people there is a time for all things, and of course a time for tears. Sir Hubert was not of this quality. He was impulsive in his nature and im perious in his bearing. Mostly educated at home, under the influence of a vain and ambitious mother, he had not imbibed any very exalted notions of honour and principle. He was impressionable, and therefore had some heart, but his ruthless nature was not in harmony with order or arithmetic, and, like his ancestor whom he resembled, he laid up heavy stores for repentance. When Sir Hubert entered the fashionable world the first coteries adopted him at once. He became one of them, and with the assistance of Lady Hampshire, whose house was always open to him, he might have continued to live in the 'best set' at a moderate expense, but economy was, in Sir Hubert's eyes, only an abstract proposition ; in the concrete he knew it not at all.

A wealthy banker would consider his establish ment disgraced if the pence columns of account were not duly respected, but to a gentleman — a real gentleman — a pound more or less is after all only a pound more or less. Fancy Sir Hubert de Rasleigh in the middle of a London season with a ready reckoner in his hand — absurb and ridiculous ! It would have put him out of his stride, as sporting men say, and rendered him quite unfit to fulfil his engagements. Everyone knows that a poor man in the full swing of fashion may make debts, but that if he stoops to arithmetic he is lost. Sir Hubert stooped at first to nothing, but after a time he stooped a great deal. If Sir Hubert had been in character a little prudent and much more selfish, qualities which are often combined, he had every prospect of success, but any prudence which he might have originally possessed was soon dissipated by the society into which he was thrown, and events accumulated with which prudence was of no more avail than would be a feather to arrest a charge of cavalry.

Sir Hubert, moreover, was naturally generous and careless to an extent which bordered upon want of principle — qualities, again, which are also often found in common — but as time progressed, he was no longer able to be generous ; and with the contraction of his purse came elasticity of morals. We do not wish to excuse the conduct of Sir Hubert, but it may be said with some truth, that for a young man the delights of a luxurious and fashionable life in the best set are so sweet and ensnaring, that once tasted they are difficult to break away from. It is an intoxication which, while it feeds one's vanity, makes any other life seem coarse and worthless. Sir Hubert, graceful and accomplished, and in all respects suited to the enjoyment to the full of a life of refinement, made no effort to enfranchise himself, until, alas, he was driven to bay at the sacrifice of honour.

Oh, sweet maiden fair and lowly born, is it not so with thee ? The flattering tale of love when told by one of higher rank seems to raise thee so far above the level of the commonplace ; the poetry so false seems so true. Dazzled by a brightness — only glamour — there comes a time when you must return to what now seems the prosaic life of no thingness, or give all for nothing. Insensibly as the maiden glides to ruin over the premier pas, so Lady de Rasleigh's premier pas, in the supposed interest of Sir Hubert, culminated in disaster.

Chapter II

SlR Hubert woke one morning when his position had to be faced. His success, a success made easy owing to his extraordinary beauty, was, for the moment, a thing of the past. Women had found him irresistible, and courted his love. The gentleness of his voice and the soft melancholy expression in his eyes seemed to carry a mysterious and fatal influence. They seemed to say I am lovable, but harmless ; but it may be said with truth, that he laid no schemes for attacking virtue, but that, when the spell had taken root, virtue flickered round it and sought destruction. There is much saving grace in a true woman's love, and not the less to be es teemed should the woman be an heiress ; and Lady de Rasleieh had persuaded herself that virtue, rank and beauty — embedded in Consols or other material substitute — would have fallen to the lot of Sir Hubert ; and so far as beauty, rank and wealth went, Lady de Rasleigh's vanity might have been satisfied with her son's success, but neither were the ladies who engaged Sir Hubert's attention, nor their wealth, transferable ; and to make matters worse, the beauty who was in a position to marry, and who greatly preoccupied Sir Hubert, had neither rank, wealth nor virtue.

At this time there was an actress called Caroline Elstone, but known and admired by the public as Coralie Delpierre. Coralie was born close to Drury Lane Theatre, in a court where poverty reigned, and where strictness in moral virtue was not held in very high esteem. It is marvellous how some waifs and strays flourish in defiance of all hygienic laws, fed at uncertain and sometimes long intervals, and then on the worst — a herring, a piece of dry bread, a glass of adulterated beer or water adulterated sometimes with gin, they battle through. 'Above all things let the child have his meals at regular hours, and let the food be plain and whole some,' says the bald-headed and grave physician, and the mother's darling is given, with regularity, mutton chops and beefsteaks until the state of his liver would compare favourably with that of a goose about to be slain (ox pate defoie gras — and his temper is such that visitors who admire him superlatively in his mother's presence, console themselves by describing him to their friends as ' that little beast.' Coralie somehow flourished.

In this scientific age we may probably conclude that the protoplasm of a million years ago, and the microbe of natural selection which developed into Coralie were survivals of the fittest ; but be that how it may, Coralie, when seventeen years of age, was strikingly beautiful. Her shape was perfect, her movements graceful, and her rich dark brown hair and black long eyelashes intensified the beauty and brightness of large, expressive, blue eyes. More over, Coralie was favoured with the most delicate complexion and pretty hands and feet, and when later she appeared on the stage in the character of ' Galatea,' she looked as if she had been most gently reared, and had been fed on roses rather than scraps of herrings and enigmatical sausages, but so it was. Coralie was not destined to lead a life of drudgery.

Her parents had died when she was scarcely two years old, and she had since lived with her maternal grandmother, who obtained a precarious subsistence, before described, by means of equally precarious profits derived from the sale of oranges at the doors of the theatres. When her grandmother was ill, Coralie, from time to time, took her place ; and on one occasion when so occupied, Sir Hubert, in passing into the theatre, brushed against the orange basket and so caused some oranges to roll on to the pavement. Sir Hubert, with his innate polite ness, stooped to pick them up, and then looking at the girl, who said, ' Never mind, sir,' he was struck by her beauty, and gave her half-a-sovereign. A companion of Coralie, also engaged in selling oranges said, ' Gracious ! let's shut up shop and go to the gallery.' Coralie had never been inside a theatre.

Once or twice she had got together a 1: capital sum of fourpence, but the extra twopence was wanting at the proper moment. She had read, in a dog's-eared and dirty condition, several comedies, and had, in a pronounced degree, a girl's fancy that it was a fine thing to go on the stage. The ' School for Scandal ' was to be played this night, and Coralie had read it over and over again and rehearsed many of the scenes alone. It seemed providential that she should be able to enter the theatre on the very night that her favourite play was to be acted. The half-sovereign was quickly changed, and one shilling and sixpence set aside, for entrance and refreshment, the remainder being placed in the safe keeping of grandmamma. Coralie was entranced by the performance. She was so absorbed that even between the acts she never spoke.

When the play was over she left in a state of excitement, and she and her friend went into a neighbouring coffee-house for refreshments. Her friend asked her, now that she had seen a great actress, whether she still thought she could act. ' I could, I feel I could,' Coralie replied, and, apparently unconscious of where she was, she rose and went through the scenes in the play she had seen. Lady Teazle and Sir Peter made no difference. She threw herself into one character, then another without any effort. The voice and gesture of the performers, the facial expression of the merry Lady Teazle and gruff Sir Peter, were reproduced, and when she reached the scene of the little money-lending Jew the spectators burst into applause. Sir Hubert, who had entered the coffee-house to get a light for his cigar, witnessed the performance with astonishment.

The applause startled Coralie. She ceased to speak for a moment — then said, ' Oh ! where am I ? ' and her eyes fell on Sir Hubert. She seemed lost for a moment, turned deadly pale, and then fell fainting at the side of her companion. The excitement of the theatre had proved too much for Coralie, but she soon recovered consciousness, and was able to return home. Sir Hubert's interest in the girl was excited by her beauty and the genius she had displayed in her recitation, and he followed Coralie and her companion. On reaching their destination he accosted the girl, complimented her upon her clever acting, and asked if he could be of any service to her. Coralie, who was still somewhat abashed, answered, ' No, sir, thank you. Oh, I quite forgot myself just now. I must have been very foolish.' ' No, my pretty girl,' said Sir Hubert, ' you acted marvellously well.

You will become a great actress. I will speak to a friend of mine, who may assist you.' Coralie blushed scarlet and began to tremble. Her joy overpowered her. Then she said, ' Can you, oh I can you help me? I will love and serve you all my life,' and Coralie again became overcome with excitement and tottered. Sir Hubert caught her in his arms and assisted her into her home. Coralie, however, almost im mediately recovered, and Sir Hubert bade her and her companion good-night, and went home. ' Beautiful in rags, and maybe honest ; she will some day be dressed in finery, look resplendent, and go to the devil, as the preachers say,' muttered Sir Hubert as he strode along. Although Sir Hubert was interested in the girl, he did not make any resolution to pursue his adventure. Sir Hubert did not care to lay siege to woman's virtue.

He was not a good man — indeed, he was very much the reverse — but he was naturally of a generous disposition, and his inclination tended rather to befriend any girl who was in danger of destruction. He probably would have forgotten Coralie but for the earnest manner with which she thanked him for his promised intercession to enable her to go on the stage. Sir Hubert dined the following day with Lady Hampshire, and recounted the episode of the previous night. Lady Hampshire, although fond of a little romance, on this occasion looked grave. She considered Sir Hubert an ornament in the beau monde and was proud of him, and she feared that the adventure might be the means of diverting him from his present mode of life. She was a firm believer in the premier pas qui coute, and experience had confirmed her faith in that aphorism.

No one can lead two lives, she had been heard to say ; you must be in or out of the set. The rest of the company laughed at Sir Hubert's story, and Carlyon, a smart and good-looking Life Guardsman, said, — ' This is delightful ; and where does Miss Perfec tion live? You are not going to keep her dark. Too bad, de Rasleigh. I shall place a guard upon de Rasleigh, Lady Hampshire ; we can't allow your ideal of perfection to be hanging about an orange stall.' ' That's just like Carlyon,' said Sir Hubert ; ' he can't hear of a pretty woman but he must want to run after her, and for all I care he may in this case' (Lady Hampshire looked slightly relieved) ; ' but Carlyon is much too volatile to be entrusted with, the education of so magnificent an actress. If Lord Avory will allow me I will consult him.