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looked　well　and　happy；　or　some　such　cheerful　intelligence。　　I　dare



say　he　wanted　to　be　forgotten；　but　I　shouldn't　think　he　was　much



cheered　by　the　news。　　What　would　you　say？〃







Renouard；　his　legs　stretched　out　and　his　chin　on　his　breast；　said



nothing。　　A　sensation　which　was　not　curiosity；　but　rather　a　vague



nervous　anxiety；　distinctly　unpleasant；　like　a　mysterious　symptom



of　some　malady；　prevented　him　from　getting　up　and　going　away。







〃Mixed　feelings；〃　the　Editor　opined。　　〃Many　fellows　out　here



receive　news　from　home　with　mixed　feelings。　　But　what　will　his



feelings　be　when　he　hears　what　I　am　going　to　tell　you　now？　　For　we



know　he　has　not　heard　yet。　　Six　months　ago　a　city　clerk；　just　a



common　drudge　of　finance；　gets　himself　convicted　of　a　common



embezzlement　or　something　of　that　kind。　　Then　seeing　he's　in　for　a



long　sentence　he　thinks　of　making　his　conscience　comfortable；　and



makes　a　clean　breast　of　an　old　story　of　tampered　with；　or　else



suppressed；　documents；　a　story　which　clears　altogether　the　honesty



of　our　ruined　gentleman。　　That　embezzling　fellow　was　in　a　position



to　know；　having　been　employed　by　the　firm　before　the　smash。　　There



was　no　doubt　about　the　character　being　cleared　…　but　where　the



cleared　man　was　nobody　could　tell。　　Another　sensation　in　society。



And　then　Miss　Moorsom　says：　　'He　will　come　back　to　claim　me；　and



I'll　marry　him。'　　But　he　didn't　come　back。　　Between　you　and　me　I



don't　think　he　was　much　wanted　…　except　by　Miss　Moorsom。　　I　imagine



she's　used　to　have　her　own　way。　　She　grew　impatient；　and　declared



that　if　she　knew　where　the　man　was　she　would　go　to　him。　　But　all



that　could　be　got　out　of　the　old　butler　was　that　the　last　envelope



bore　the　postmark　of　our　beautiful　city；　and　that　this　was　the　only



address　of　'Master　Arthur'　that　he　ever　had。　　That　and　no　more。　　In



fact　the　fellow　was　at　his　last　gasp　…　with　a　bad　heart。　　Miss



Moorsom　wasn't　allowed　to　see　him。　　She　had　gone　herself　into　the



country　to　learn　what　she　could；　but　she　had　to　stay　downstairs



while　the　old　chap's　wife　went　up　to　the　invalid。　　She　brought　down



the　scrap　of　intelligence　I've　told　you　of。　　He　was　already　too　far



gone　to　be　cross…examined　on　it；　and　that　very　night　he　died。　　He



didn't　leave　behind　him　much　to　go　by；　did　he？　　Our　Willie　hinted



to　me　that　there　had　been　pretty　stormy　days　in　the　professor's



house；　but　…　here　they　are。　　I　have　a　notion　she　isn't　the　kind　of



everyday　young　lady　who　may　be　permitted　to　gallop　about　the　world



all　by　herself　…　eh？　　Well；　I　think　it　rather　fine　of　her；　but　I



quite　understand　that　the　professor　needed　all　his　philosophy　under



the　circumstances。　　She　is　his　only　child　now　…　and　brilliant　…



what？　　Willie　positively　spluttered　trying　to　describe　her　to　me；



and　I　could　see　directly　you　came　in　that　you　had　an　uncommon



experience。〃







Renouard；　with　an　irritated　gesture；　tilted　his　hat　more　forward　on



his　eyes；　as　though　he　were　bored。　　The　Editor　went　on　with　the



remark　that　to　be　sure　neither　he　（Renouard）　nor　yet　Willie　were



much　used　to　meet　girls　of　that　remarkable　superiority。　　Willie



when　learning　business　with　a　firm　in　London；　years　before；　had



seen　none　but　boarding…house　society；　he　guessed。　　As　to　himself　in



the　good　old　days；　when　he　trod　the　glorious　flags　of　Fleet　Street；



he　neither　had　access　to；　nor　yet　would　have　cared　for　the　swells。



Nothing　interested　him　then　but　parliamentary　politics　and　the



oratory　of　the　House　of　Commons。







He　paid　to　this　not　very　distant　past　the　tribute　of　a　tender；



reminiscent　smile；　and　returned　to　his　first　idea　that　for　a



society　girl　her　action　was　rather　fine。　　All　the　same　the



professor　could　not　be　very　pleased。　　The　fellow　if　he　was　as　pure



as　a　lily　now　was　just　about　as　devoid　of　the　goods　of　the　earth。



And　there　were　misfortunes；　however　undeserved；　which　damaged　a



man's　standing　permanently。　　On　the　other　hand；　it　was　difficult　to



oppose　cynically　a　noble　impulse　…　not　to　speak　of　the　great　love



at　the　root　of　it。　　Ah！　　Love！　　And　then　the　lady　was　quite　capable



of　going　off　by　herself。　　She　was　of　age；　she　had　money　of　her　own；



plenty　of　pluck　too。　　Moorsom　must　have　concluded　that　it　was　more



truly　paternal；　more　prudent　too；　and　generally　safer　all　round　to



let　himself　be　dragged　into　this　chase。　　The　aunt　came　along　for



the　same　reasons。　　It　was　given　out　at　home　as　a　trip　round　the



world　of　the　usual　kind。







Renouard　had　risen　and　remained　standing　with　his　heart　beating；



and　strangely　affected　by　this　tale；　robbed　as　it　was　of　all



glamour　by　the　prosaic　personality　of　the　narrator。　　The　Editor



added：　　〃I've　been　asked　to　help　in　the　search　…　you　know。〃







Renouard　muttered　something　about　an　appointment　and　went　out　into



the　street。　　His　inborn　sanity　could　not　defend　him　from　a　misty



creeping　jealousy。　　He　thought　that　obviously　no　man　of　that　sort



could　be　worthy　of　such　a　woman's　devoted　fidelity。　　Renouard；



however；　had　lived　long　enough　to　reflect　that　a　man's　activities；



his　views；　and　even　his　ideas　may　be　very　inferior　to　his



character；　and　moved　by　a　delicate　consideration　for　that　splendid



girl　he　tried　to　think　out　for　the　man　a　character　of　inward



excellence　and　outward　gifts　…　some　extraordinary　seduction。　　But



in　vain。　　Fresh　from　months　of　solitude　and　from　days　at　sea；　her



splendour　presented　itself　to　him　absolutely　unconquerable　in　its



perfection；　unless　by　her　own　folly。　　It　was　easier　to　suspect　her



of　this　than　to　imagine　in　the　man　qualities　which　would　be　worthy



of　her。　　Easier　and　less　degrading。　　Because　folly　may　be　generous



…　could　be　nothing　else　but　generosity　in　her；　whereas　to　imagine



her　subjugated　by　something　common　was　intolerable。







Because　of　the　force　of　the　physical　impression　he　had　received



from　her　personality　（and　such　impressions　are　the　real　origins　of



the　deepest　movements　of　our　soul）　this　conception　of　her　was　even



inconceivable。　　But　no　Prince　Charming　has　ever　lived　out　of　a



fairy　tale。　　He　doesn't　walk　the　worlds　of　Fashion　and　Finance　…



and　with　a　stumbling　gait　at　that。　　Generosity。　　Yes。　　It　was　her



generosity。　　But　this　generosity　was　altogether　regal　in　its



splendour；　almost　absurd　in　its　lavishness　…　or；　perhaps；　divine。







In　the　evening；　on　board　his　schooner；　sitting　on　the　rail；　his



arms　folded　on　his　breast　and　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　deck；　he　let



the　darkness　catch　him　unawares　in　the　midst　of　a　meditation　on　the



mechanism　of　sentiment　and　the　springs　of　passion。　　And　all　the



time　he　had　an　abiding　consciousness　of　her　bodily　presence。　　The



effect　on　his　senses　had　been　so　penetrating　that　in　the　middle　of



the　night；　rousing　up　suddenly；　wide…eyed　in　the　darkness　of　his



cabin；　he　did　not　create　a　faint　mental　vision　of　her　person　for



himself；　but；　more　intimately　affected；　he　scented　distinctly　the



faint　perfume　she　used；　and　could　almost　have　sworn　that　he　had



been　awakened　by　the　soft　rustle　of　her　dress。　　He　even　sat　up



listening　in　the　dark　for　a　time；　then　sighed　and　lay　down　again；



not　agitated　but；　on　the　contrary；　oppressed　by　the　sensation　of



something　that　had　happened　to　him　and　could　not　be　undone。















CHAPTER　III















In　the　afternoon　he　lounged　into　the　editorial　office；　carrying



with　affected　nonchalance　that　weight　of　the　irremediable　he　had



felt　laid　on　him　suddenly　in　the　small　hours　of　the　night　…　that



consciousness　of　something　that　could　no　longer　be　helped。　　His



patronising　friend　informed　him　at　once　that　he　had　made　the



acquaintance　of　the　Moorsom　party　last　night。　　At　the　Dunsters；　of



course。　　Dinner。







〃Very　quiet。　　Nobody　there。　　It　was　much　better　for　the　business。



I　say　。　。　。〃







Renouard；　his　hand　grasping　the　back　of　a　chair；　stared　down　at　him



dumbly。







〃Phew！　　That's　a　stunning　girl。　。　。　Why　do　you　want　to　sit　on　that



chair？　　It's　uncomfortable！〃







〃I　wasn't　going　to　sit　on　it。〃　　Renouard　walked　slowly　to　the



window；　glad　to　find　in　himself　enough　self…control　to　let　go　the



chair　instead　of　raising　it　on　high　and　bringing　it　down　on　the



Editor's　head。







〃Willie　kept　on　gazing　at　her　with　tears　in　his　boiled　eyes。　　You



should　have　seen　him　bending　sentimentally　over　her　at　dinner。〃







〃Don't；〃　said　Renouard　in　such　an　anguished　tone　that　the　Editor



turned　right　round　to　look　at　his　back。







〃You　push　your　dislike　of　young　Dunster　too　far。　　It's　positively



morbid；〃　he　disapproved　mildly。　　〃We　can't　be　all　beautiful　after



thirty。　。　。　。　I　talked　a　little；　about　you　mostly；　to　the



professor。　　He　appeared　to　be　interested　in　the　silk　plant　…　if



only　as　a　change　from　the　great　subject。　　Miss　Moorsom　didn't　seem



to　mind　when　I　confessed　to　her　that　I　had　taken　you　into　the



confidence　of　the　thing。　　Our　Willie　approved　too。　　Old　Dunster



with　his　white　beard　seemed　to　give　me　his　blessing。　　All　those



people　have　a　great　opinion　of　you；　simply　because　I　told　them　that



you've　led　every　sort　of　life　one　can　think　of　before　you　got



struck　on　exploration。　　They　want　you　to　make　suggestions。　　What　do



you　think　'Master　Arthur'　is　likely　to　have　taken　to？〃







〃Something　easy；〃　muttered　Renouard　without　unclenching　his　teeth。







〃Hunting　man。　　Athlete。　　Don't　be　hard　on　the　chap。　　He　may　be



riding　boundaries；　or　droving　cattle；　or　humping　his　swag　about　the



back…blocks　away　to　the　devil　…　somewhere。　　He　may　be　even



prospecting　at　the　back　of　beyond　…　this　very　moment。〃







〃Or　lying　dead　drunk　in　a　roadside　pub。　　It's　late　enough　in　the



day　for　that。〃







The　Editor　looked　up　instinctively。　　The　clock　was　pointing　at　a



quarter　to　five。