A Provincial Lady

Chapter I

She was pretty, though not conspicuously so. No one would have picked her out for any one charm ; but the attractions of a figure not too slim yet naturally lissome, very brilliant blue eyes, a nose so slightly aquiline in form, that even in combina tion with the moist red lips, it did not suggest a strain of Jewish blood, and a sweet mouth with a pathetic expression, were sufficient when added together to make one wonder at her obvious dis content with herself and her surroundings. For the last half-hour she had sat on the terrace of the hotel, answering her sister-in-law's remarks with monosyllabic listlessness, her gaze directed sea wards ; yet, was she all the while cognisant and comprehensive of every movement round her. The scene was amusing ; and bright as scenes can only be abroad, where people literally live, and have their being, out of doors.

The sunlight g $rotnnctaf &ft&£. 2 was brilliant ; it bathed the blue sea and yellow sands in wonderful translucent gold : there was the usual babel of polyglot tongues, the light chattering of women, mingled with the deeper tones of men ; above both, the shrill sweet voices of children ; and through all a ripple of inex tinguishable laughter born of the glorious weather, and the holiday time of the year. The London season had, as usual, ended with the Goodwood week. Dinard, which had been full before, began to overflow with guests and gaieties when the Cowes week was also over, and pretty women and smart yachtsmen came on to start another summer season with fresh impetus, after a short (if only comparative) rest. On her first arrival, Mrs. John Wills had been content with the ordinary routine of seaside life.

She had bathed every morning ; and in the after noon, if there was no expedition planned to any interesting place, she had once or twice amused herself by watching the tennis. She did not play tennis, nor did she go to the Casino, as she was in mourning for her husband, who had died some fourteen months ago. On the whole, her visit to Dinard had been so quiet and free from events, that it had struck her more than once that the unknown country generally termed " abroad " @ (proutnciftf feafcg. 3 differed but little from Ramsgate, Eastbourne, Folkestone, or other resorts beloved of the English middle classes. There would, in fact, have been no difference at all, had she not gone by mere chance to that most fashionable season hotel, the Grand Hotel des Terrasses. There, her eyes were opened by degrees to the fact that, although millions may flourish and thrive on the face of the earth, although they may enjoy rmuch the same general advantages — since, as yet, there is only one sun to shine on the smart and the un smart, and that the air which we breathe is no respecter of persons — a certain select few are set apart by prejudice and tradition to skim the cream of life's pleasures.

It is the lot of some men to be known, as well as to know, just as some women are born to be seen, rather than to see. The serpent that first appeared in this some what commonplace Eden to poison its simple enjoyments, by offering to Rachel Wills what to her, at least, was a forbidden fruit, came in the guise of a woman. Lady Sophie Long had actually reached the age of forty-five, although, by force of ?fin de siecle resources, she was still by courtesy young, and actually charming. She had not an enemy in all (ft (provinciat feafcg. 4 her world, in spite of her many and various suc cesses, which must have aroused some natural malice, had she not disarmed the most cen sorious and proper by a reputation for impreg nable good-nature. She had never been known to say an unkind word of any one — those who live in glass houses are not always wise enough to refrain from throwing stones ; and no woman who ever pleased her own sex was blessed with a more winning smile.

Lady Sophie had smiled once at Mrs. John Wills when that lady politely made way for her to pass upon the stairs ; but smiles (like women) souvent varient ; and this one, so impersonal, so vague, had convinced the little widow more keenly than any affront, of her own absolute nonentity, her unimportance. The smile seemed to pass through her and beyond her, — " as though I were a ghost," she said to herself with a half-amused shiver. " Those swells are all like that," said her sister in-law, to whom she had only just now confided her impression. " They don't want to see people they don't know. I met her ladyship on the stairs yesterday with that pretty Countess What's her-name, and she pretended not to see me ; but she did, for I heard her talking about me, and she stopped when she saw you were following $ provinciat feafcg. 5 me up.

She must have known we were re lations." Rachel winced. She had heard the remark alluded to, or rather a part of it ; and the words, " That dreadful woman dressed in flags," left no doubt in her mind that a reflection on her sister-in-law's dress was intended. Mrs. Wills, senior, had a passion for violent colours ; and even within the narrow range of tints permitted to half-mourning, managed to make a too mag nificent effect. Her exuberantly-dressed hair was curly black, her cheeks were terribly rosy, and being very much above the ordinary height, with, what in the province she had come from had been considered a very fine figure, she always attracted attention. No one, least of all Rachel, had ventured to hint that her appearance was outre; and that the good looks she might otherwise have boasted, were made more ob jectionable than any plainness, by the extrava gances of her apparel and her lack of good taste.

The name of Wills was known and respected all through Amcaster, and, indeed, through Nor shire, of which county it was one of the most flourishing small towns. A family of brothers had made their fortunes in iron (more correctly ($. ftrovinciat feabp. 6 speaking, in ironmongery, for theirs was a retail not a wholesale trade) ; but it was the youngest brother, the late Mr. John Wills, who had risen to a supreme height, by becoming Mayor of his birth place. It was felt by most of his friends (and by all his relations) to be a pity that one with such chances of success should have married the penniless daughter of a clergyman, who had died, some said, from sheer inability to fit his own re quirements, as well as the requirements of his poor parishioners, to a merely nominal stipend ; rather than one of those rich heiresses for which the north is famous.

That his young wife was charming, almost pretty, went for nothing. It is the metier of those who have no money to cultivate some personal attractions. All the same, not to like Rachel Wills was impossible ; and when she became a widow, with an income of three thousand a year, every one was ready to advise her how to lay out her fortune to best advantage. To the surprise, and somewhat to the dismay of most, when the first year of her mourning was over, Rachel chose to go abroad. A year before her husband's death, during his year of mayoralty in fact, some thing had led her to suppose that life in Amcaster was only a pale colourless reflex of life in the great (ft (promnciaf &a&j>. 7 world ; that the aims and ambitions of its inhabit ants might seem pitiably small and absurd, to those who scarcely could conceive its limitatious.

At the same time, her eyes had been opened not only to the limits of her previous existence, but to the possible horizons which lay before her in the future. " / was born" she wrote in a diary, which was soon destroyed, because she regarded it as too unsafe to keep; "/ was born in 1871, but my babyhood lasted an unusually long time; it was in the spring of 'q\ I began to ' take notice '. Up to then, I had lived, and enjoyed life, as the animals do, for such trivial reasons as comfort, food, and sheer delight in the sunshine, and fresh air ; and with nothing to show that I was human, but in stincts of gratitude, a natural interest in my neighbours affairs, and a womanly feeling for clothes. Even after I married — that was in '89 — I only vaguely understood that life has its burdens as well as its pleasures ; and that to get as much good as possible out of one's existence, one must go softly, one step at a time, and with eyes half-closed, since it does not do to see too much.

It was not till two years later, however, not till '91 {which was my epoch, my grand climacteric), that I began to guess what depths and heights of sorrow and joy some @ {provinciat £a&e- 8 may fathom. It was not till then, that I began to feel — think — and really live." When Mrs. John Wills decided to shake pro vincial dust for a time, at least, from her feet, and to use her new-found freedom by travelling abroad, the wife of her late husband's eldest brother volunteered to go with her. Mrs. Wills was the only one of the family who had any social as pirations ; and because a cousin had married an artist whose pictures were sometimes hung in the New Gallery ; and because she had a nephew who contributed articles to sporting papers, she considered she knew London. When the business of Wills Brothers had so largely increased as to necessitate a branch in London, she and her husband had settled in Baysw-ater, where they lived for two-thirds of the year.

As according to French philosophy those who have already drunk are always inclined to drink more ; so Mrs. Wills, senior, professed herself undismayed at the idea of a foreign tour. The journey, however, resolved itself into a night's voyage from South ampton to St. Malo. Then the sisters-in-law settled down quietly at Dinard. They had not moved in search of distractions, but distractions and amusements soon surrounded them. They were now in the gay world, if not of it. (ft Cpromnctcif feeing. 9 " It seems to me," said Mrs. Wills, looking round her with awe and admiration, " they could not dress more for church parade in the Park." Mrs. John, who had never taken part even as an onlooker in that diversion which is the delight of those who live in London suburbs, forbore to express an opinion.

She could have described the dress of each and every woman there, and the details of one dress which was worn by the lady her sister had irreverently named " the Countess What's-her-name," and who was really Lady Dover, a noted London beauty, had sunk so deeply into her brain that a year later she re produced it (slightly varied) for herself; but just then she was not in the mood to talk chiffons. She was feeling dolefully "out of it," desperately envious of those who seemed to have nothing to do but be amused, and to whom amusements seemed to come by right. " It is odd that there should be so many people whom one has never seen before, and whom one will never see again," she answered. " They are not quite the sort of people you would expect to meet at Amcaster, if you mean that ! " " And Amcaster people have no business to come here." &&$£• 10 " Why not, pray ?

It's a free country, I suppose ■although it's France." "That depends upon what you call freedom," mused Mrs. John, her blue orbs still on the blue sea, but the retina of her mind's eye still full of a fascinating woman in yellow alpaca, with a blouse of filmy lace, and an aerial bonnet of black tulle on her bright hair. " We are all free to drown ourselves, or marry dukes, to become famous, or to do a hundred other things which we don't do, just because we can't. I might " (with an involuntary backward glance at the pretty woman who was the centre of a small subservient crowd) " I might make friends with Lady Dover, and go with her on her yacht to the Canary Islands ; but I don't fancy that I shall." " And you would not enjoy it, if you did. You are a very poor sailor," added her sister-in-law, with that comfortable philosophy we reserve for our friends' use.

" I daresay I should not enjoy it anyhow. A provincial woman like myself would mix about as easily with women of that sort — women ' in society,' as water with oil." " For wholesomeness give me the water," answered Mrs. Wills. " I've heard queer stories of (ft Cftromnciftf £,a&i>. 11 the doings of those people, — the upper classes as you call them ; and as for Countess What's-her name, she's pretty, of course ; but if you were in her clothes, you'd look as well as she does." Mrs. John shook her head doubtfully, while acknowledging the compliment with a faint blush. " Her circumstances, too, are so becoming. A woman gains so much from her position. Make her a duchess, even a countess, and I can imagine that all her virtues of manner, of good looks, of fascination, would immediately be doubled.

Success is bound to be successful even in small things. When a woman is made much of, looked up to, and admired, she must become most charming." " That's just what I say," agreed Mrs. Wills, good-naturedly. " If you were a countess and dressed like that one, you'd be just as much thought of as she is. But what's the good of talk ing ? We are as God made us ; and you've no need to grumble. There's many a one might grudge you what John's left you ; seventy thousand pounds to do what you like with, and if you leave it in the business, they say you may double it in time. By-the-by, did I tell you I heard from Philip Morris? He asked after you of course, and I think he'd like to come here, if %AQt> 12 he thought that he was wanted. He's taking a holiday soon." "Oh! no, I hope he won't come!" cried Mrs. John impulsively, and then felt slightly con fused.

She could not explain to her sister-in-law her strong feeling on this subject. She had scarcely admitted to herself the senseless fear which had seized her once or twice with regard to this man whom she had known now for three years, but lately from a different point of view. Philip Morris had a strong masterful personality, and a certain charm of manner, in spite of some rough ness. She had always liked him ; but in her liking was not much of admiration. Her husband had considered him too sanguine, too — well, per haps not sufficiently scrupulous — to be willingly associated with him in any business schemes ; while at the same time he had admitted that he had splendid qualities which must command success- " He does not do business according to my ideas of how business should be done ; I daresay my ideas are old-fashioned," the worthy Mayor had once said ; " but I am sure of one thing, I am sure he will never allow himself to be beaten when he is quite certain what it is that he wants."

(ft CprotHttctaf £a&8. 13 Now there was one thing that Mr. Philip Morris wanted which Mrs. John Wills did not wish him to have ; and that was herself. Intui tively she had guessed his admiration even in her husband's lifetime ; and within the year which had elapsed since Mr. Wills' death he had let her see plainly what were his hopes so far as she was concerned. That he should have done so at such an early stage was scarcely decent ; but Rachel knew he never allowed himself to be stopped by regard for conventions ; and he was determined that she should not labour under any misunder standing. Rachel on her side was equally deter mined that nothing should induce her to sink back again into the commonplace provincial life, from which she felt she had escaped. Only at times a fear assailed her.

There was a buoyant dashing strength about Philip Morris that fascin ated her sometimes against her will. He could be very winning when he chose ; and women, she knew, were weak, and easily won. Something, that is to women what experience may be to men, warned her that it was best to avoid such a man. All this was not to be explained in words ; even to herself she had not put it plainly : but she felt that her first involuntarily-expressed Habp. 14 objection to his coming must be softened some what, and she added rather lamely : " It would be very stupid to come so far for a few weeks, and we are not staying long ourselves." " You were saying just now that you felt dull with nobody you knew to speak to ; and I think myself it would be nice to have some one to take us about. What is it, Rachel ?

Do you see any one you know now ? " Mrs. John had risen from her seat ; she was swaying a little uncertainly, and looked startled, almost frightened, as though she had conjured up a spirit in jest, and been confronted by it in real earnest. Unmindful of the curious glances which were at once directed towards her, she caught her sister-in-law by the arm and drew her indoors. " H-sh-sh ! " she whispered hoarsely. " It's Mr. Tempest. Come upstairs, and I will tell you all about him there." Obediently, Mrs. Wills suffered herself to be led off, with only one backward glance, just to see what manner of man had power so to disturb Rachel's usually cool assurance. The man was rather under medium height, and dressed in dark blue clothes, with a yachting-cap crammed down on his fair hair. Coming from the direction of (ft tfJrotnnctaf &a&go 15 the Casino which adjoined, he was exactly facing Mrs. Wills : but so far as she could remember, she had never seen him before ; and judging from his appearance, which she recognised as eminently aristocratic, he was more likely to be coming there in search of Countess What's-her name, than of Rachel or herself.

Chapter II

The new arrival was the member for Amcaster; and the story of how he won his seat was also the story of Mrs. John Wills' awakening to life. Two years ago, Mr. Albert Tempest had gone north to contest the town of Amcaster in the Conservative interest. It was in the natural order of things that he should be armed with an introduction to Mr. John Wills, the Mayor of Amcaster, and junior partner in a firm which had won its present high position by determined re spectability, and push : it was equally natural that Mr. John Wills, who had a truly British reverence for the aristocracy of his own country, should seize the opportunity of being civil to one of its scions. His offers of hospitality were so persistently and so persuasively tendered, that at last, from motives of expediency, they were accepted.

Mr. Tempest, who had his own ideas of what this hospitality would mean, had shown no undue alacrity in shifting his quarters, which he found $ {provinciat Ibabg. 17 exceedingly comfortable in a quiet way. He had met men of the Mayor's type before ; for the new-rich are now-a-days more prominently " always with us " than the poor ; and not only in provincial circles. The ancient nobility are almost elbowed out of their places by the modern social adventurer, who has greater command of money, and power of more prodigal display ; but they reserve to themselves the right of openly expressed contempt for the class of millionaires in general, although they may countenance any one particular member by accepting his favours. Now the Mayor of Amcaster was not uneducated ; nor was he exactly unrefined.

He followed the course of current politics with intelligent concern ; he read all the reviews, and all the books that came out in decently solid dimensions ; he was so far musical, that he preferred a modern English ballad to the heavy oratorios, to which he listened patiently at the Amcaster Harmonic Concerts, of which he was a patron ; and a gentlemanly instinct, which might be roughly described as old-fashioned loyalty, led him to support his queen and all existing institutions. With sufficient savoir faire to avoid the neglect of some of his aspirates to the undue advancement of the rest ; and not to commit any harmless but un- (ft (provinciat feabg. lovable solecisms at the table, or elsewhere ; he was still a simple, kindly bourgeois, with a strong provincial accent, and a quite impossible coat.

Mr. Tempest thought that he could easily picture to himself the menage to which he stood com mitted ; the ponderous formality, the vulgar profusion, the terrible dulness. In his mind's eye, too, he saw the Mayor's wife — a woman without tact or charm, elderly, of course, and surrounded by a troup of unattractive children ; stout and motherly, with a faint regard for grammar, but with an invincible desire to rule his social destinies, while he was sojourning be neath her roof. This was what he expected ; but his actual first impressions were confused and somewhat blunted by surprise. He had arrived late in the evening. There was only just time to slip into his evening clothes, and to make his way to the drawing-room, which he entered as the dinner-gong was sounding. By the fireplace stood the Mayor alone ; but in an inner room he caught a glimpse of a fluttering white gown ; and a sweet voice— Mr. Tempest, like the late Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, was keenly susceptible to the charm of a sweet voice was singing the refrain to a quaint Russian song : (ft $romnctftf &ftbg. 19 " Hai luli, Hai luli, Oil peut done etre Mon ami ?

" and evidently singing it to a pet bird, for she finished up with a clear chirrup as the Mayor called out her name. The next moment there was a swish of silk lined skirts ; and the Mayor's wife, — shy, yet oddly composed, and eager for the meeting, — stood before the man who was to play an important part in her life. She was a mere girl, scarcely twenty. So much Mr. Tempest perceived at first sight ; but it was some time before (aided by memory and several furtive glances during long political debates) he could formulate anything like a clear description of her elusive, child-like charm. Her eyes were beautifully blue, large, and shadowed by long lashes, and soft scented masses of hair were knotted loosely in the neck. In spite of the frou-frou of her frock, on the surface it was diaphanous, like muslin.

There was a delightful mystery about it. It fell and floated around her as do the dresses in old prints. The grace of femininity was hers in a very marked degree. Her pretty head had a deprecating droop, and ($, (provinciat feeing. 20 a slight inclination to one side. She moved swiftly forward, in answer to her husband's call, with an undulating step that was inexpressibly enchanting ; and she laid her slim white fingers into the hand which Mr. Tempest had extended, with confiding frankness. " I am so glad you have come," she said ; and the remark, unsophisticated, but not in the least awkward, cordial, but by no means gushing, somewhat puzzled him to whom it was addressed. He twisted it this way, and that ; and distorted it from its first simplicity of phrasing, in vain efforts to judge what it might really mean.

As a matter of fact the meaning was all on the surface. Mrs. Wills had then been married very nearly two years. Though she had no suspicion of the fact herself, she was bored to death by marriage as she found it. The luxury of her present life did not compensate her for its lack of interest and occupation ; the mild semi-paternal affection of her elderly husband could not have satisfied her heart had it been awakened — but as yet it was not. Now and then a passage in some novel or a poem, had set a vague feeling of suspected pleasure, premonitory pain, stirring in her heart ; but on the whole she entertained the comfortable, old-fashioned, and exceedingly whole- (ft $rot>inciaf fea&g. 21 some conviction that romance was well over with marriage ; that having achieved the end and aim of woman's life, nothing remained to her but to live happily— as happily as she could — for ever after.

Now for the first time a real excitement had come into her life. She plunged with eager zest into the new world of politics which opened before her ; but to her had only one limited meaning — the return of Mr. Tempest as Amcaster's M.P. The hours, the days passed quickly. Though the domestic routine proved to be very much what Mr. Tempest had foreseen, yet the heavy, elaborate meals did not seem too long while Mrs. Wills sat at the head of the table listen ing intently to the conversation ; seldom offering an opinion, unless especially invited to do so by her husband ; but always utterly absorbed, and ready to do anything that lay within her power. Canvassing under such circumstances became the ideal occupation. The candidate experienced a subtle, unanalysed pleasure in benefiting by votes that were gained by her personal influence, and intervention.

Mr. Tempest, typical man of thirty-five, blase, desillusionne, intrigue, desœuvre as he was, could not fail to be touched by the interest his feft&e- 22 pretty hostess had so artlessly taken in his affairs. He was not proof against the tempta tion of playing upon feelings so sensitive, so responsive to his touch. She, possessing a keen sense of humour, a word could make her colour rise; and her eyes so easily became suffused with tears, that even her husband, who was com fortably slow of comprehension, had learned to refrain from mentioning sad things. Here was a new sensation for Mr. Tempest, who had hitherto known no medium between the rusee woman of the world, and the callous lower classes, to meet any one so innocent, yet undeni ably clever ; so full of fun and yet not shallow. At first she had seemed to be brimming over with merriment and mischief; but there was an under-current of sentiment in her disposi tion which he was not slow in bringing to the surface, although conscious at the time that there was danger in so doing.

To do Mr. Tempest justice, he had refrained from even attempting to make love to Mrs. Wills, while he was living in her husband's house. That the temptation to do so was there he had admitted to himself after they had been only a few days together ; but he had honourably met and conquered it in combat. It was a momentfeafcg. 23 ary madness — a mistake of judgment upon the one side, of inexperience upon the other — that led to a never-to-be-forgotten indiscretion. The electoral victory was won ; the event ful week was over. Mr. Tempest was returning to town, and Mrs. Wills was driving him in her little pony phaeton to the station. " Poor little ponies, they have done good service, but their hard work is over now," said Mr. Tem pest, his languid tones finely tempered with regret. " Everything is over : everything !

" echoed his companion. " What a week it has been ! What striving, and struggling, and succeeding ; what pleasant walks and drives and friendly talks — all crowded into seven days." " And all over !" came as another doleful echo. Mrs. Wills was unusually erect in her seat. As she spoke she gave her ponies a little flick with her whip, and sent them flying along the narrow road that led to the station. "Successfully over, at least; and it is all to you I owe it. You won me half my votes. You had a way of seeming so certain that I was the right man that you infected your hearers with the same belief; and, carried away by enthusiasm, they somehow carried me in." (ft (prowt'nctaf &afcg. 24 " And were you not the right man ? " asked Mrs. Wills, looking up at him from under her thick eye-lashes with the shyest, fleeting smile.

" I can only promise to do my best not to shake their belief to that effect. I can only hope to repre sent Amcaster — and you — with something like credit." Then, after a moment's pause, he repeated slowly, lingeringly, " I owe everything X.o you ". Something rose in Mrs. Wills' throat, and pre vented a reply ; a seeling oddly maternal and tender, a yearning desire to touch his brown hands as they comfortably clasped his black serge knees ; or to pass her fingers through his thick fair hair, which would have curled had it been longer ; an entirely womanly want to show some outward and visible sign of the warm friendship she inwardly felt. She had done so much for him that it was almost natural she should feel thus towards him ; and although she recovered herself after a moment, and chatted with her ordinary bright ness, there remained in her manner something of suppressed emotion that a man of the world could not fail to see — and misunderstand ; since no man instinctively suspects that he has inspired a purely platonic affection.