LITMIR.BIZ

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distance. “Perhaps, if you are better in a day or two, you can follow; but you will go away now in the carriage, and send over to Dr. Spruce, and he will prescribe for you.”

      Baptisto did not answer, but, taking his masters hand, kissed it gratefully. The train came up. Haldane entered a carriage, and, gazing from the window as the train began to move on, saw Baptisto still seated on the platform, very pale, his eyes half closed, his head recumbent. Near him stood the station master, a railway porter, and the groom who had driven them over from the Manor, all regarding him with languid curiosity.

      But the moment the train was gone, Baptisto began to recover. Rising to his feet, and refusing all offers of assistance from the others, he strolled out of the station, and quietly mounted the dog-cart. The groom got up beside him, and they drove homeward through the green lanes.

      Now, Baptisto was a gentleman, and seldom entered or tolerated familiarity from his fellow-servants. Had it been otherwise, the groom might have asked the explanation of his curious conduct; for no sooner was he mounted on the dogcart, and driving along in the fresh air, than the Spaniard seemed to forget all about his recent illness, sat erect like a man in perfect health, and exhibited none of the curious symptoms which had so alarmed his master.

      And when the groom, who was a thirsty individual, suggested that they should make a detour and call at the Blue Boar Inn for a little stimulant, chiefly as a corrective to the attack from which his companion had just suffered, the Spaniard turned his dark eyes round about him and actually winked. This proceeding so startled the groom that he almost dropped the reins, for never in the whole course of his sojourn had the foreign gent condescended to such a familiarity.

      They drove round to the Blue Boar, however, and the groom consumed the brandy, while Baptisto, who was a teetotaller, had some lemonade, and lit his cigar. Then they drove home to the Manor, Baptisto sitting with folded arms, completely and absolutely recovered.

      About noon that day, as Mrs. Haldane moved about the conservatory, looking after her roses, a servant announced the Rev. Mr. Santley. Ellen flushed, a little startled at the announcement, coming so soon after her husband’s departure, and her first impulse was to deny herself; but before she could do so the clergyman himself appeared at the door of the conservatory.

      “You are an early visitor,” she said coldly, bending her face over the flowers.

      “It is just noon,” answered the clergyman, “and I was going home from a sick-call. Has Mr. Haldane gone?”

      “Yes. Did you wish to see him?”

      “Not particularly, though I had a little commission which I might have asked him to execute had I been in time.” Surely the man’s fall had already begun. Ellen knew perfectly well that he was lying. In point of fact, he had seen the dog-cart drive past on the way to the station, and he had been unable to resist the temptation of coming over without delay.

      With face half averted, Ellen led the way into the drawing-room, and on to the terrace beyond, from which there was a pleasant view of the Manor, the plain, and the surrounding country. Just below the gardens were laid out in flowerbeds and gravel walks; but the dark shrubberies were beyond, and at a little distance, well in the shadow of the trees, the old chapel.

      There was a long silence. Ellen stood silent, gazing upon the woods and lawn, while the clergyman stood just behind her, evidently regarding her.

      At last she could bear it no longer, but, turning quickly, exclaimed —

      “Why did you come? Have you anything to say to me?”

      “Nothing, Ellen, if you are angry,” replied the clergyman.

      “Angry! You surely know best if I have cause. After what has passed, I think it is better that we should not meet,” she added in a low voice. “At least, not often.”

      He saw she was agitated, and he took a certain pleasure in her agitation, for it showed him that she was not quite unsusceptible to the influence he might bring to bear upon her. As he stood there, his sad eyes fixed upon her, his being conscious of every movement she made, of every breath she drew, he felt again the deep fatality of his passion, and silently yielded to it.

      There was another long pause, which he was the first to break.

      “Do you know, Ellen, I sometimes tremble for you, when I think of your husbands opinions. In time you may learn to share them, and then we should be further apart than ever. At present, it is my sole comfort to know you possess that living faith without which every soul is lost.”

      “Lost?” she repeated, in a bewildering way, not looking at him.

      “I don’t mean in the vulgar sense; the theological ideas of damnation have never had my sanction, far less my sympathy. But materialism degrades the believer, and sooner or later comes a disbelief in all that is holy, beautiful, and sanctified. It is a humble creed, the new creed of science, and fatal to spiritual hopes.”

      “Does it matter so much what one believes, if one’s life is good?”

      “It matters so much that I would rather see one I loved dead before my feet than an avowed unbeliever. But there, I have not come to preach to you. When does Mr. Haldane return?”

      “As I told you: in a fortnight, perhaps sooner.”

      “And during his absence we shall meet again, I hope?”

      She hesitated and looked at him. His eyes were fixed on the distant woods, though he stood expectantly, as if awaiting her reply, which did not come.

      “Can you not trust me?” he exclaimed. “You know I am your friend?”

      “I hope so; but I think it is best that you should not come here. If you were married, it would be different.”

      “I shall not marry,” he replied impatiently. “What then? I am a priest of God, and you may trust me fully. If our Church commenced the confessional, you might enter it without fear, and I – I would listen to the outpourings of your heart. Should you in your grief be afraid to utter them?”

      She moved away from him, turning her back; but betrayed herself. He saw the bright colour mount to her neck and mantle there.

      “What nonsense you talk!” she said presently, with a forced laugh. “Are you going over to Rome?”

      “I might go over to the evil place itself, Ellen, if you were there.”

      There was no mistaking the words, the tone, in their diabolic gentleness, their suavity of supreme and total self-surrender. She felt helpless in spite of herself. The man was overmastering her, and rapidly encroaching. She felt like a person morally stifled, and with a strong effort tried to shake the evil influence away.

      “I was right,” she said. “We must not meet.”

      He smiled sadly.

      “As you please. I will come, or I will go, at your will. You have only to say to me, ‘Go and destroy yourself, obliterate yourself for ever from my life, blot yourself out from the roll of living beings,’ and I shall obey you.”

      Her spirit revolted more and more against the steadfast, self-assured obliquity of the man. She saw that he was desperate, and that the danger grew with his desperation. In every word he spoke, and in his whole manner, there was the sombre assurance of something between them, of some veiled, but excitable sympathy, which she herself utterly ignored. That moment of wild delirium, when he caught her in his arms and kissed her, seemed, instead of severing them, to have made a link between them. He had been conscious of her indignation, he had even professed penitence; but she saw to her dismay that the fact of his folly filled him, not with fear, but with courage. So she determined to end it once and for ever.

      “Let us understand each other,” she said, trembling violently. “How dare you talk as if there was any community of feeling between us? How dare you presume upon my patience, Mr. Santley? It is wretched; it is abominable! When you talk of killing yourself, when you assume that I have any serious interest in you, or any right over you, you insult me and degrade yourself. We are nothing, and can be nothing to each other.”

      “I know that,” he replied.

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