 1 Chapter 18 The first news that Avadne received on arriving in Malta was contained in a letter from her mother. It announced that her father had determined to cut her off from all communication with her family until she came to her senses. She had remained quietly with Mrs. Orton Begg until it was time to leave England. She did not want to go to Freilingay. She shrank from occupying her old rooms in her new state of mind, and she would not have thought of proposing such a thing herself. But she did half expect to be asked. This not liking to return home, not recognizing it as home any longer, or herself as having any right to go there uninvited, marked the change in her position, and made her realize it with a paying. Her mother came and went, but she brought no message from her father, nor ever mentioned him. Something in ourselves warns us at once of any change of feeling in a friend, and Avadne asked no questions, and sent no messages either. But this attitude did not satisfy her father at all. He thought at her duty clearly to throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy and forgiveness, and he waited for her to make some sign of contrition until his patience could hold out no longer, and then he asked his wife, has Avadne, uh, what is her attitude at present? She is perfectly cheerful and happy, Mrs. Freiling replied. She expresses no remorse for her most unjustifiable conduct. She thinks she only did what is right, Mrs. Freiling reminded him. Then she is quite indifferent to my opinion, he began, swelling visibly and getting red in the face. Has she asked what I think? Does she ever mention me? No, never, Mrs. Freiling declared apprehensively. A most unnatural child, he exclaimed in his pompous way. A most unnatural child. It was after this that he became obstinately determined to cut Avadne off from all communication with her friends, until she should become reconciled to Colonel Cahoon as a husband. Mr. Freiling was not an astute man. He was simply incapable of sitting down and working out a deliberate scheme of punishment which should have had the effect of bringing Avadne's unruly spirit into what he considered proper subjection. In this matter he acted not upon any system which he could have reduced her writing, but rather as the lower animals do when they build nests, or burrow in the ground, or repeat generation after generation other arrangements of a like nature, with a precision which the cumulative practice of the race makes perfect in each individual. He possessed a certain faculty, transmitted from father to son, that gives the stupidest man a power in his dealings with women which the brightest intelligence would not acquire without it. And he used to obtain his end with the decision of instinct, which is always neater and more effectual than reason and artifice in such matters. He denied hotly, for instance, that Avadne had any natural affection. And yet it was upon that woman's weakness of hers that he set to work at once, proving himself to be possessed of a perfect, if unconscious, knowledge of her most vulnerable point. And he displayed much ingenuity in his manner of making it a means of torture. He let no hint of the cruel edict be breathed before she went abroad. She might have altered her arrangements had she known of it before, and remained with Mrs. Orton Begg. And there was something of foresight, too, in timing her mother's tear-stained letter of farewell, good advice, pious exhortation and plaintive reproach, to meet her on her arrival, to greet her on the threshold of her new life, and make her realize the terrible gulf which she was setting between herself and those who were dearest to her by her obstinacy. The object was to make her suffer. And she did suffer. But her father's cruelty did not alter the facts of the case, or appeal to her reason as an argument worthy to influence her decision. Mrs. Orton Begg ventured to express her opinion to Mr. Frailing on the subject seriously. She often said more to him in her quiet way than most people would have dared to. I think you are making a mistake, she said. What? he exclaimed, ready to bluster. Would you have me counten at such conduct? Why, it is perfectly revolutionary. If other women follow her example, not one man in ten will be able to get a wife when he wants to marry. It is very terrible, she answered in her even way, to hear that so large a majority will be condemned to celibacy. But I have no doubt you have good grounds for making the assertion. That is not the point, however. What I was thinking of was the risk you run of bringing more serious trouble on yourself by cutting a vadnaia drift from every influence of her happy childhood and casting her lot among strangers and into a world of intrigue alone. She will come to her senses when she finds herself so situated perhaps, he retorted testily, and if she does not, it will just show that she is incorrigible. Evadni answered this last letter of her mother's with dignity. Of course, I regret my father's decision, she wrote, and I consider it neither right nor wise. But I shall take the liberty of writing to you regularly every mail nevertheless. I know my letters will be a pleasure to you, although you cannot answer them. But where is the reason and right, mother, in this decision of my father's? We both know, you and I, that it is merely the outcome of irritation caused by a difference of opinion, and no more binding and reason upon you than upon me. When Mrs. Frailing received this letter, she wrote a hurried note to Evadni, saying that she did think her husband unreasonable, and also that he had no right to separate her from any of her children, and that therefore she should write to Evadni as often as she liked, but without letting him know it. She thought his injustice quite justified such tactics. But Evadni answered, No. There has been too much of that kind of cowardice among women already, she wrote. Whatever we do, we should do openly and fearlessly. We are not the property of our husbands. They do not buy us. We are perfectly free agents to write to whomesoever we please, and so long as we order our lives in all honor and decency, they have no more right to interfere with us than we with them. Tell him once for all that you see no reason in his request, and write openly. What can he do? Storm, I suppose, but storming is no proof of his right to interfere between you and me. Once on a time the ignorant were taught to believe that the Lord spoke in the thunder, and they could be influenced through their terror and respect to do anything while an opportune storm was raging. And when women were weak and ignorant, men used their wrath in much the same way to convince them of error. To us, educated as we are, however, an outburst of rage is about as effectual an argument as a clap of thunder would be. Both are startling, I grant, but what do they prove? I have seen my father in a rage. His face swells and gets very red. He prances up and down the room. He shouts at the top of his voice and presents altogether a very disagreeable spectacle which one never quite forgets. But he cannot go like that forever, mother. So tell him gently you have been thinking about his proposition, and are sorry that you find you must differ from him, but you consider that it is clearly your duty to correspond with me. Then sit still and say nothing, and let him storm till he is tired. And when he goes out and bangs the door, finish your letter, and put it in a conspicuous position on the hall table to be posted. He will scarcely tear it up, but if he does, write another. Send it to the post yourself and tell him you have done so, and shall continue to do so. Be open before everything, and stand upon your dignity. Things have come to a pretty pass indeed when an honourable woman only dares to write to her own daughter surreptitiously, as if she were doing something she should be ashamed of. Poor Mrs. Brailing was not equal to such opposition. She would rather have faced a thunderstorm than her husband in his wrath, so she concealed Evadney's letter from him, and wrote to her again surreptitiously in order to reproach her for seeming to insinuate that she, her mother, would stoop to do anything underhand. Evadney sighed when she received this letter, and thought of letting the matter drop. Why should she dislike to see her father in the position unreasonable husbands and fathers usually occupy? That of being ostensibly obeyed, while in reality they are carefully kept in the dark as to what is going on about them. And why should she object to allow her mother to act as so many other worthy but weak women daily do in self-defense and for the love of peace and quietness? There seem to be no great good to be gained by persisting, and she might perhaps have ended by acquiescing under protest if her mother had not added by way of postscript. I doubt very much if I shall be allowed to receive your letters. Your father will probably send any he may capture straight back to you, and at any rate he will insist upon seeing them. So do not, my dear child, allude to having heard from me. I earnestly entreat you to remember this. But the request only made Evadney's blood boil again. She did not belong to the old corrupt state of things herself, and she would not submit to anything savoring of deceit. If her mother were too weak to assert her own independence, she felt herself forced to do it for her. So she wrote to her father sharply. My mother tells me that you intend to stop all communication between her and myself. I consider that you have no right to do anything of the kind, and unless I hear from her regularly an answer to my letters, I shall be reluctantly compelled to send a detailed statement of my case to every paper in the kingdom in order to find out from my fellow countrywomen what their opinion of your action in the matter is, and also what they would advise us to do. You know my mother's affection for you. You have never had any reason to complain of want of devotion on her part, and when you make your disagreement with me a whip to scourge her with, you are guilty of an unjustifiable act of oppression. This letter arrived at Frailingay late one afternoon, and was handed to Mr. Frailing on his return from a pleasant country ride. He read it standing in the hall, and lost his equanimity at once. Where is Mrs. Frailing? He asked a servant who happened to be passing, speaking in a way which caused the man to remark afterward that, Mrs. Frailing was going to catch it about something, and he seemed to think I'd made away with her. Mrs. Frailing was in the drawing-room, writing one of her pleasant chatty letters to a friend in India, with a cheerful expression on her comely countenance, and all recollections of her domestic difficulties banished for the moment. When Mr. Frailing entered in his riding-dress, with his whip in his hand and his hat on his head, he was one of those men who are most punctilious with strange ladies, but do not feel it necessary to behave like gentlemen in the presence of their own wives, making it appear as if the latter had lost caste and forfeited all claim to their respect by marrying them. Mrs. Frailing looked round from her writing and smiled. Have you had a nice ride, dear? she said. Read that, he exclaimed, slapping a Vadni's letter with his whip, and then throwing it down on the table before her rudely. Read that, and tell me what you think of your daughter now. Mrs. Frailing's fair face clouded on the instant, and her affectionate heart, which had been so happily expanded the moment before by the kind thoughts about her absent friend that came crowding as she wrote to her, contracted now with a painful spasm of nervous apprehension. She read the letter through, and then put it down on the table beside her without a word. She did not look at her husband, but at some miniatures which hung on the wall before her. They were portraits of her own people, father, mother, grandmother, a great aunt and uncle, and other near relations, together with a brother and sister much older than herself, and both dead, and forgotten as a rule. But at that moment, all that she had ever known of them, details of merry games together, and childish naughtinesses which got them into trouble at the time, but made them appear to have been only amusingly mischievous now, recurred to her in one great flash of memory, which showed her also some lost illusions of her early girlhood about a husband's love and tenderness, his constant friendship, the careful, patient teaching of the more powerful mind which was to strengthen her mind and enlarge it too, and the constant companionship which would banish forever the indefinite gnawing sense of loneliness from which all healthy, young, unmaded creatures suffer. She had actually expected at one time to be more to her husband than the mere docile female of his own kind, which was all he wanted his wife to be. She had had aspirations which had caused her to yearn for help to develop something beyond the animal side of her, proving the possession in embryo of faculties other than those which had survived Mr. Freyling's rule. But her nature was plastic, one of those which requires the strong and delicate hand of a master to mold it into distinct and lovely form. Motherhood, as it had appeared to her in the delicate dreams of those young days, had promised to be a beautiful and blessed privilege. But then the children of her happy imaginings had been less her own than those of the shadowy perfection who was to have been her husband. She had little sense of humor, but yet she could have smiled when, in this moment of absolute insight, she saw the ideal compared with the real husband, this great, fat, country gentleman. The folly of having expected even motherhood with such a father for her children to be anything but unsatisfactory and disappointing at the best, dawned upon her for an instant with disheartening effect. But fortunately, the outlook was so hopeless there seemed nothing more to sigh for, and so she sat for once, looking up at the miniatures without washing out with tears the little mental strength she had left. Mr. Freyling waited impatiently for her to make some remark when she had read of Adney's letter. Almost anything she could have said must have given him some further food for provocation, and there is nothing more gratifying to an angry man than fresh fuel for his wrath. However, silent sometimes fans the flame as effectually as words, and it did so on this occasion. For having waited till he could contain himself no longer, he burst out so suddenly that Mrs. Freyling raised her large, soft, white hand to the heavy braids which it was then the fashion to pile high on the head and have hanging down in two rows to the nape of the neck behind, as if she expected them to be disarranged by the concussion. May I ask if you approve of that letter, he demanded? But she only set her lips. Mr. Freyling took a turn about the room with his hands behind his back, holding his riding whip upright and flicking himself between the shoulders with it as he went. Let her write to the papers, he exclaimed, addressing the pictures on the walls as if he were sure of their sympathy. Let her write to the papers. I don't care what she does. I cast her off forever. This comes of the higher education of women, a promising specimen, woman's rights and deed, woman's shamelessness and want of common decency once she has let loose from proper control. She'll make the matter public, will she, a girl of nineteen, and take the opinion of her fellow countrywoman on the subject, E. Gad, because I won't let her mother write to her, and my not doing so is an unjustifiable act of oppression, is it? What do you consider it yourself? He demanded of his wife, striding up to her and standing over her in a way which, with a flourish of the whip, was unpleasantly suggestive of an impulse to visit her daughter's offence upon her shoulders actually as well as figuratively. Mrs. Frayling did not shrink, but her comely pink and white face, usually so lineless in its healthy matronly plumpness, suddenly took on a look of age and hardness, the one moment of horrid repulsion marking it, more deeply than years of those household cares which write themselves on the mind without contracting the heart had done. Do you consider, he repeated, that I have been guilty of an unmanly act of oppression? I think you have been very unkind, she answered, meaning the same thing. Her conduct was bad enough to begin with, but now it will be ten times worse. She will write to the papers if she says she will. If Adne is as brave, you can't understand her courage. She will do anything she thinks right. And now there will be a public scandal after all we have done to prevent it, and you will never be able to show your face again anywhere, for there isn't a mother in the country from Her Majesty downward who will not take my part, and say you have no right to separate me from my daughter. I know what the end of it will be, he roared. I know what happens when women leave the beaten track, they go to the bed all together. That's what will happen, you'll see. She'll write a volume next to prove that she has a right to be an immoral woman if she chooses. She'll be a common hussy yet, I promise you. Sir, said Mrs. Freyling, stung into dignity for a moment, and rising to her feet in order to confront him boldly while she spoke. Sir, I have been a good and loyal wife to you, as my daughter says. And it seems she was right too when she declared that you are capable of making your disapproval of her opinions a whip to scourge me with. But I warn you, if you do not instantly retract that cowardly insult, I shall walk straight out of your house and make the matter public myself. Mr. Freyling stared at her. I-I beg your pardon, Elizabeth. He faltered in sheer astonishment. What with you and your daughter? I am provoked past endurance. I don't know what I am saying. No amount of provocation justifies such an attack upon your daughter's reputation, Mrs. Freyling rejoined, following up her advantage. If she had been that kind of girl she would not have objected to Colonel Cahoon, and at any rate she has every right to as much of your charity as you give him. Women are different, Mr. Freyling ventured feebly. Are they, said Mrs. Freyling, some of Avadney's wisdom occurring to her with the old worn axiom upon which for untold ages the masculine excuse for self-indulgence at the expense of the woman has rested? I believe Avadney is right after all. I shall get out her letters and read them again, and what is more I shall write to her just as often as I please. Mr. Freyling stared again in his amazement, and then he walked out of the room without uttering another word. He had not foreseen the possibility of such spirited conduct on the part of his wife, but since she had ventured to revolt the question of a public scandal was disposed of, and that being a consummation devoutly to be wished, he said no more, solving his lust of power with the reflection that, by deciding the question for herself, she had removed all responsibility from his shoulders, and proved herself to be a condemnatious woman, and blameworthy. So long as there is no risk of publicity, the domestic tyrannies of respectable elderly gentlemen of irascible disposition may be carried to any length, but once there is a threat of scandal, they coil up. By that one act of overt rebellion, Mrs. Freyling secured some comfort in her life, for a few months at least, and taught her husband a little lesson which she ought to have endeavored to inculcate long before. It was too late then, however, to do him any permanent good. The habit of the slave driver was formed. When a woman sacrifices her individuality and the right of private judgment at the outset of her married life, and limits herself to what thou biddest unargued I obey, taking it for granted that, God is thy law, without making any inquiries, and accepting the assertion that, to know no more is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise, as confidently as if the wisdom of it had been proved beyond a doubt, and its truth had never been known to fail in a single instance, she withdraws from her poor husband all the help of her keener spiritual perceptions, which she should have used with authority to hold his grosser nature in check, and leaves him to drift about on his own conceit, prejudices, and inclinations, until he is past praying for. There was a temporary lull at Freilinge after that last battle, during which Mrs. Freiling wrote to her daughter freely and frequently. She described the fight she had had for her rights, and concluded, Now the whole difficulty has blown over, and I have no more opposition to contend against. To which Evadne had replied in a few words judiciously, adding, Before the curing of a strong disease, even in the instant of repair and health, the fit is strongest, evils that take leave on their departure most of all show evil. Chapter 19 It came to be pretty generally known that all had not gone well with the cahoons immediately after their marriage. Something of the story had of necessity leaked out through the servants, but as the Freilinges had the precaution, common to their class, to keep their private troubles to themselves, nobody knew precisely what the difficulty had been, and their intimate friends, whom delicacy debarred from making inquiries, least of all. Lady Adeline just mentioned the matter to Mrs. Orton Begg, and asked, Is it a difficulty that may be discussed? No, better not, I think, the latter answered, and of course the subject dropped. But poor Lady Adeline was too much occupied with domestic anxieties of her own at that time to feel more than a passing gleam of sympathetic interest in other peoples. As Lord Dawn had hinted to Mrs. Orton Begg, it was now a question of how best to educate the twins. Their parents had made what they considered suitable arrangements for their instruction, but the children, unfortunately, were not satisfied with these. They had had a governess in common while they were still quite small, but Mr. Hamilton Wells had old-fashioned ideas about the superior education of boys. Unconsequently, when the children had outgrown their nursery governess, he decided that Angelica should have another, more advanced, and had at the same time engaged a tutor for Diavolo, sending him to school being out of the question because of the fear of further trouble from the artery he had severed. When this arrangement became known, the children were seen to put their heads together. Do we like having different teachers? Diavolo inquired tentatively. No, we don't, said Angelica. Lady Adeline had tried to prepare the governess, but the latter brought no experience of anything like Angelica to help her to understand that young lady, and so the warning went for nothing. A little affection goes a long way with a child, she said to Lady Adeline, and I always endeavour to make my pupils understand that I care for them and do not wish to make their lessons a task, but a pleasure to them. It is a good system, I should think, Lady Adeline observed, speaking dubiously however. Can you do long division, my dear? The governess asked Angelica when they sat down to lessons for the first time. No, Miss Absley, Angelica answered sweetly. Then I will show you how, but you must attend, you know. This last was said with playful authority. So Angelica attended. How did you get on this morning? Lady Adeline asked Miss Absley anxiously afterward. Oh, perfectly, the latter answered. The dear child was all interest and endeavour. Lady Adeline said no more, but such docility was unnatural, and she did not like the look of it at all. Next day Angelica, with an innocent air, gave Miss Absley a long division sum which she had completed during the night. It was done by an immense number of figures, and covered four sheets of fool's cap gummed together. Miss Absley worked at it for an hour to verify it, and finding it quite correct, she decided that Angelica knew long division enough, and must go on to something else. Her first impression was that she had secured a singularly apt pupil, and she was much surprised when she began to teach Angelica the next rule in arithmetic, to find that she could not make the dear child see it. Angelica listened, and tried, with every appearance of honest intention, getting red and hot with the effort, and she would not put the slate down, she would go on trying till her head ached, she was so eager to learn. But work as she might, she could do nothing but long division. Miss Absley said she had never known anything so singular. Lady Adeline sighed. For about a week, the twins lay low. The tutor had found it absolutely impossible to teach Diavolo anything. The boy was perfectly docile. He would sit with his bright eyes riveted on his master's face, listening with might and main, apparently. But at the end of every explanation the tutor found the same thing. Diavolo never had the faintest idea of what he had been talking about. At the end of a week, however, the children changed their tactics. When lessons ought to have begun one morning, Diavolo went to Miss Absley, and sat himself down beside her in Angelica's place, with a smiling countenance and without a word of explanation, while Angelica presented herself to the tutor, with all Diavolo's books under her arm. Please, sir, she said, there must have been some mistake. Diavolo and I find that we were mixed somehow wrong, and I got his mind, and he got mine. I can do his lessons quite easily, but I can't do my own. And he can do mine, but he can't do these, holding up the books. It's like this, you see. I can't learn from a lady, and he can't learn from a man. So I'm going to be your pupil, and he's going to be Miss Absley's. You don't understand twins, I expect. It's always awkward about them. There's so often something wrong. With us you know the fact of the matter is that I am Diavolo, and he is me. The tutor and governess appealed to Mr. Hamilton Wells, and Mr. Hamilton Wells sent for the twins and lectured them, Lady Adeline sitting by seriously perplexed. The children stood to attention together and listened respectfully, and then went back to their lessons with undeviating cheerfulness. But Diavolo did Angelica's, and Angelica did his diligently, and none other would they do. But this state of things could not continue, and in order to end it, Mr. Hamilton Wells had recourse to a weak expedient which he had more than once successfully employed, unknown to Lady Adeline. He sent for the twins, and consulted their wishes privately. What do you want? he asked. Well, sir, Diavolo answered, we don't think it's fair for Angelica only to have a beastly governess to teach her when she knows as much as I do, and is a precious sight sharper. I taught you all you know, Diavolo, didn't I? Angelica broke in. Yes, said Diavolo, with a wise nod. And it is beastly unfair, she continued, to put me off with a squeaking governess and long division when I ought to be doing mathematics in Latin and Greek. My dear child, what use would mathematics in Latin and Greek be to you, Mr. Hamilton Wells protested? Just as much use as they will to Diavolo, she answered decidedly. He doesn't know half as much about the good of education as I do, just ask him. She whisked round on her brother as she spoke and demanded, tell Papa Diavolo, what is the use of being educated? I am sure I don't know, Diavolo answered impressively. My dear boy, mathematics are an education in themselves. Mr. Hamilton Wells began didactically, moving his long white hands in a way that always suggested lace ruffles. They will teach you to reason. Then they'll teach me to reason too, said Angelica, setting herself down on the arm of a chair as if she had made up her mind and intended to let them know it. All her movements were quick. All Diavolo's deliberate. Men are always jeering at women in books for not being able to reason, and I'm going to learn if there's any help in mathematics, she continued. I found something the other day. Where is it now? She was down on her knees in a moment, emptying the contents of her pocket onto the floor and sifting them. There were two pocket handkerchiefs of fine texture and exceedingly dirty, as if they had been there for months. The one she used, she carried in the bosom of her dress or up her sleeve. A ball of string, a catapult and some swan-shot, a silver pen, a pencil holder, part of an old song-book, a pocket-book, some tin tacks, a knife with several blades and scissors, etc., also a silver fruit knife, two-colored pencils, India rubber, and a scrap of dirty paper wrapped round a piece of almond toffee. This was apparently what she wanted, for she took it off the toffee, threw the latter into the grate, where their Diavolo's eyes followed it regretfully, and spread the paper out on her lap, once it was seen to be covered with cabalistic-looking figures. Here you are, she said. I copied it out of a book the other day, and put it round the toffee because I knew I should be wanting that, and then I should see it every time I took it out of my pocket and not forget it. But why did you throw the toffee away? said Diavolo. Shut up and listen! Angelica rejoined from the floor politely, and then she began to read, Histories make men wise, poets witty, mathematics subtle, natural philosophy deep, moral, grave, logic and rhetoric able to contend. Now that's what I want, Papa, I want to know all that and have a good time, and I expect I shall have to contend to get it. You'll soon learn how, said Diavolo, encouragingly. Mr. Hamilton Wells had always enjoyed his children's precocity, and provided they amused him, they could make him do anything. So after the conference he announced that he had been questioning Angelica, and had found that she really was too far advanced for a governess, and he had therefore decided that she should share Diavolo's lessons with the tutor. The governess accordingly disappeared from Hamilton House. The first tutor found that he had no vocation for teaching, and left also, and another was procured with great difficulty, and at considerable expense, for the fame of the heavenly twins widespread, and their parents were determined besides not to let any candidate engage himself under the pleasing delusion that the task of teaching them would be something of a sinecure. The tutor they finally secured turned out to be a very good fellow, fortunately, a gentleman, and with a keen sense of humor which the twins appreciated, so that they took to him at once, and treated him pretty well on the whole, but lessons were usually a lively time. Angelica, who continued to be the taller, stronger, and wicketer of the two, soon proved herself the cleverer also. Like Avadney, she was consumed by the rage to know, and insisted upon dragging Diavolo on with her. It was interesting to see them sitting side by side, the dark head touching the fair one as they bent together intently over some problem. When Diavolo was not quick enough, Angelica would rouse him up in the old way by knocking her head, which was still the harder of the two, against his. Angelica, did I see you strike your brother, Mr. Ellis sternly demanded the first time he witnessed this performance? I don't know whether you saw me or not, sir, but I certainly did strike him, Angelica answered irritably. Why? To wake him up. You see, sir, Diavolo proceeded to explain in his imperturbable drawl. Angelica discovered that I was born with a hereditary predisposition to be a muff. We mostly are on father's side of the family. And if he isn't one, it's because I slapped the tendency out of him as soon as I perceived it. Angelica interrupted. Get on, Diavolo. I've no patience with you when you're so slow. You know you don't want to learn this, and that's why you're snailing. It was rather a trick of Diavolo's to snail over his lessons, for in that, as in many other things, he was very unlike the good little boy who loved his book, besides evincing many other traits of character equally unpopular at the present time. Diavolo would not work unless Angelica made him, and the worst collision with the tutor was upon this subject. Wake up, Theodore, will you, Mr. Ellis said during the first week of their studies? Not until you call me Diavolo, was the bland response. Mr. Ellis resisted for some time, but Diavolo was firm and would do nothing, and Lady Adeline cautioned the tutor to give in, if he saw an opportunity of doing so with dignity. But the young scamp will be jeeringly triumphant if I do, Mr. Ellis objected. Oh, no, Lady Adeline answered. Diavolo prides himself upon being a gentleman, and he says a gentleman never jeers or makes himself unpleasant. His ideas, on the latter point, by the way, are peculiarly his own, and you will probably differ from him as to what is or is not unpleasant. Mr. Ellis made a point of calling the boy Diavolo in a casual way, as if he had forgotten the dispute, as early as possible after this, and found that Lady Adeline was right. Diavolo showed not the slightest sign of having heard, but he got out his books at once, and did his lessons, as if he liked them. Mr. Hamilton Wells had a habit of always saying a little more than was necessary on some subjects. He was either a born naturalist, or had never conquered the problem of what not to say, and he was so unconscious as to come into the schoolroom one morning while lessons were going on, and warned Mr. Ellis to be most careful about what he gave the twins to read in Latin, because some of the classic delicacies which boys are expected to swallow without injury to themselves are much too highly seasoned for a young lady. You must make judicious excerpts, he said. Slap came the dictionary down upon the table, and Angelica was deep in the X's in a moment. Excerpt, she found, was to pick or take out. She passed the dictionary to Diavolo, who studied the definition, but neither of them made a remark. From that day forth, however, they spent every spare moment they had in pouring over Latin textbooks until they mastered the language, simply for the purpose of finding out what it was that Angelica ought not to know. There were, as has already been stated, some lively scenes at lessons. Talk less and do more, Mr. Ellis rashly recommended in the early days of their acquaintance. And after that, when they disagreed, they claimed that they had his authority to settle the difference by tearing each other's hair, or scratching each other across the table. And when he interfered, sometimes they scratched him too. Mr. Hamilton Wells raised his salary, eventually. The children invariably had a discussion about everything as soon as it was over. They called it, talking it out. And after they had sinned and suffered punishment, their great delight was to come and coax the tutor to talk it out. They would then criticize their own conduct and his impartially, point out what they might have done and what he might have done and what ought to have been done on both sides. These discussions usually took place at the schoolroom tea, a meal which both tutor and children as a rule thoroughly enjoyed. Mr. Ellis was not bound to have tea with the twins, but they had politely invited him on the day of his arrival, explaining that their parents were out, and it would give them great pleasure to entertain him. Tea being ready, they took him to the schoolroom, where he found a square table, just large enough for four, daintily decorated with flowers, and very nice china. We have to buy our own china because we break so much, Angelica said, seeing that the tutor noticed it. That was the kind of thing Papa got for us, indicating a hugely thick white cup and saucer which stood on the mantelpiece on a stand of royal blue plush and covered with a glass shade. We broke the others, but we had that one mounted as a warning to him. Papa has no taste at all. The tutor's face was a study. It was the first of these remarks he had heard. The children decided that it would balance the table better if he poured out the tea and he good-naturedly acquiesced, and sat down with Angelica on his right and Diavolo on his left. The fourth seat opposite was unoccupied, but there was a cover laid, and he asked who was expected. Oh, that is for the peace angel, said Diavolo casually. Prevents difficulties at tea, you know, Angelica supplemented. We don't mind difficulties, but we thought you might object, so we asked his holiness, indicating the empty chair, to preserve order. Mr. Ellis did not at first appreciate the boon which was conferred on him by the presence of the peace angel, but he soon learnt to. I am on my honour and thick bread and butter today, said Diavolo, looking longingly at the plentiful supply and variety of cakes on the table. What does that mean exactly? Mr. Ellis asked, pausing with the teapot raised to pour. Why, you see, he was naughty this morning, Angelica explained, and as mama was going out she put him on his honour as a punishment not to eat cake. I have a good mind not to eat anything, said Diavolo, considering the plate of thick bread and butter beside him discontentedly. Then you'll be cutting off your nose to vex your face, said Angelica. Diavolo caught up a piece of bread and butter to throw at her, but she held up her hand, crying, I appeal to the peace angel. I forgot, said Diavolo, transferring the bread to his plate. The children studied the tutor during tea. He was a man of thirty, somewhat careworn about the eyes, but with an excessively kind and pleasant face, clean shaven, and thick, ready-brown hair. He was above the middle height, a little stooped at the shoulders, but of average strength. I like the look of you, said Angelica frankly. Thank you, he answered, smiling. And I vote for a permanent arrangement, she said, looking at Diavolo. He was just then hidden behind a huge slice of bread, biting it, but he nodded intelligently. The permanent arrangement referred to was to have the tutor to tea, and he agreed, wisely stipulating, however, that the presence of the peace angel should also be permanent. He even tried to persuade the twins to invite him to lessons, but that they firmly declined. You'll like being our tutor, I think, Diavolo observed during this first tea. He will if we like him, said Angelica significantly. Are we going to, Diavolo asked? Yes, I think so, she answered, taking another good look at Mr. Ellis. I like the look of that red in his hair. Now isn't that a woman's reason? Diavolo exclaimed, appealing to Mr. Ellis. Yes, it is, said Angelica, preparing to defend it by shuffling a notebook out of her pocket and ruffling the leaves over. Listen to this, and she read, A tinge of red in the hair denotes strength and energy of character and good staying power. We don't want a muff for a tutor, do we? There are born muffs enough in the family without importing them, and a woman's reason is always a good one, as men might see if they'd only stop chattering and listen to it. It may not be well expressed, but it will bear examination, Mr. Ellis suggested. Do you like being a tutor, Diavolo asked? It depends on whom I have to teach. If you're a good fellow, you'll have a nice time here on the whole, I hope so, Angelica observed. But why are you a tutor? To earn my living, Mr. Ellis answered, smiling again. The children remembered this, and when they were having tea under the shadow of the suppositious peace angel's wing, after the first occasion on which, when the tutor tried to separate them during a fight at lessons, they had turned simultaneously and attacked him, they made it the text of some recommendations. He expressed a strong objection to having manual labor imposed upon him as well as his other work, but they maintained that if only he had called the affray a struggle for daily bread, or a fight for a livelihood, he would quite have enjoyed it, and they further suggested that such diversion must be much more interesting than being a mere commonplace tutor who only taught lessons. They could not understand why a fight was not as much fun for him as for them, and thought him unreasonable when they found he was not to be persuaded to countenance that way of varying the monotony. Not that there was ever much monotony in the neighborhood of the heavenly twins, they managed to introduce variety into everything, and their quickness of action when both were roused was phenomenal. One day while at work, they saw a sparrow pick up a piece of bread, take it to the roof tree of an angle of the house visible from the schoolroom window, drop it, and chase it as it fell, and the twins had made a bet as to which would beat, bird or bread, quarreled because they could not agree as to which had bet on bird and which on bread, and boxed each other's ears almost before the race was over. Mr. Ellis, although continually upon his guard, was not by any means always a match for them. Over and over again he found that his caution had been fanned to sleep by flattering attentions, while traps were being laid for him with the most innocent air in the world, as on one occasion when Diavolo betrayed him into a dissertation on the consistency of the scriptures, and Angelica asked him to kindly show her how to reconcile Proverbs 8, 2, for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it, with Ecclesiastes 1, 18. For in much wisdom is much grief, and he that increaseeth knowledge increaseeth sorrow. His way with them was admirable, however, and he completely won their hearts. The thing that they respected him for most was the fact that he took in punch on his own account, and could show you a lot of things in it that you could never have discovered yourself, as Angelica said, and read bits in a way that made them seem ever so much funnier than when you read them, and could tell you who drew the pictures the moment he looked at them, so that punch-day came to be looked forward to by the children as one of the pleasantest events of the week. Lessons were suspended the moment the paper arrived, if they had been good, but when they were naughty Mr. Ellis put the paper in his pocket, and that was the greatest punishment he could inflict upon them, the only one that ever made them sulk. They would be good for hours in advance to earn the right of having punch shown to them the moment it came, and it was certainly by means of his intelligent interpretation of it that their tutor managed to cultivate their tastes in many ways, and give them true ideas of art, and the importance of art at the outset, and also of ethics. He was as careful of Angelica's physical as of her mental education, being himself strongly imbued by the then new idea that a woman should have the full use of her limbs, lungs, heart, and every other organ and muscle, so that life might be a pleasure to her, and not a continual exertion. He had a strong objection to the artificial waste, and impressed the beauty of Tenniel's classical purity of figure upon the children by teaching them to appreciate the contrast it presents to the bulging vulgarities made manifest by Keane, and showed them also that while Du Marier depicted with admirable artistic interpretation the refined surroundings and attenuated forms of women as they are, Linley Sanborn, that master of lovely line, pointed the moral by drawing women as they should be. There was nothing conventional about the heavenly twins, and it was therefore easy to make a good impression upon them in this direction, and the tutor soon had a practical proof of his success, which must have been eminently satisfactory, if a trifle embarrassing. The children were out on the lawn in front of the house one afternoon, when a lady arrived to call upon their mother. They were struck by her appearance as she descended from her carriage, and followed her into the drawing room to have a good look at her. She was one of those heroic women who have the constancy to squeeze their figures in beyond the Y shape, which is the commonest deformity, to that of the hourglass, which bulges out more above and below the line of compression. There were a good many other people in the room, whom the heavenly twins saluted politely, and then they sat down opposite to the object of their interest and gazed at her. Why are you tied so tight in the middle? Angelica asked at last, in a voice that silenced everybody else in the room. Doesn't it hurt? I mean to have a good figure when I grow up, like the Venus de Medici, you know. I can show you a picture of her if you like. She hasn't a stitch on her. She looks awfully nice, though, said Diavolo, and Angelica thinks she'd be able to eat more with that kind of figure. Yes, Angelica candidly confessed, looking at her victim compassionately. I shouldn't think now that you can eat both pudding and meat, can you? Not to mention dessert. Diavolo ejaculated with genuine concern. Mr. Ellis, will you get those children out of the room somehow? Lady Adeline whispered to the tutor, who had come in for tea. Is it true, do you think? Mr. Ellis began loudly, addressing Mr. Hamilton Wells across the room. Is it true that Dr. Galbraith is going to try some horrible experiments in Vivisection this afternoon? What is Vivisection? asked Angelica, diverted. Cutting up live animals to find out what makes them go, said the tutor. In three minutes there wasn't a vestige of the heavenly twins about the place. The Twins had a code of ethics which differed in some respects from that ordinarily accepted in their state of life. They honoured their mother, they couldn't help it as they said themselves apologetically, but their father they looked upon as fair a game for their amusement. What was that unearthly noise I heard this morning, Mr. Ellis asked one day. Oh, did we wake you, sir? Diavolo exclaimed. We didn't mean to. We were only yowling Papa out of bed with our fiddles. He's idle sometimes and won't get up, and it's so bad for him, you know. I wish you could see him scooting down the corridor after us, Angelica observed. And, you know, he speaks just the same at that time of day in his dressing gown as he does in the evening in dress clothes. You'd die if you heard him. Another habit of the Twins was to read any letters they might find lying about. It is dishonourable to read other people's letters. Mr. Ellis admonished them severely when he became aware of this peculiarity. It isn't for us, Angelica answered defiantly. You might as well say it's dishonourable to squint. We've always done it and everybody knows we do it. We warn them not to leave their letters lying about, don't we, Diavolo? That is because it is greater fun to hunt for them, Diavolo interpreted precisely. When Angelica gave a reason, he usually cleared it of all obscurity in this way. And how are we to know what goes on in the family if we don't read the letters, Angelica demanded? What necessity is there for you to know? Every necessity, she retorted, not be interested in one's own family affairs, why we should be wanting an intelligence, and we're not that, you know, and we should be wanting an affection, too, in every right feeling, and I hope we are not that either, Mr. Ellis, quite. But you needn't be afraid about your own letters. We shan't touch them. No, drawl Diavolo. Of course, that would be a very different thing. I'm glad you drawl the lines somewhere, Mr. Ellis observed sarcastically. He was far from satisfied, however, but he noticed eventually that the dust collected on letters of his own if he left them lying about, and he soon discovered that when his intelligent pupils gave their word, they kept it, uncompromisingly. It was one of their virtues, and the other was loyalty to each other. Their devotion to their mother hardly counted for a virtue, because they never carried it far enough to make any sacrifice for her sake. But they would have sacrificed their very lives for each other, and would have fought for the right to die until there was very little left of either of them to execute. Of such peculiar equality were their affections. They had gone straight to Fountain Towers by the shortest cut across the fields that afternoon when Mr. Ellis suggested Vivisection as a possible occupation for Dr. Galbraith. They never doubted but that they should discover him hard at work, in some underground cellar most likely, to which they would be guided by the cries of his victims, and would be able to conquer his reluctance to allow them to assist at his experiments by threats of exposure. And they were considerably chagrined when, having carefully concealed themselves in a thick shrubbery in order to reconnoiter the house, they came upon him in the garden, innocently occupied in the idle pursuit of pruning rose-trees. He was somewhat startled himself when he suddenly saw their hot red faces, set like two moons in a clump of greenery, peeping out at him with animated eyes. "'Hello,' he said. "'Are you hungry?' The faces disappeared behind the bushes. "'Are we Angelica?' Diavolo whispered anxiously. "'Of course we are,' she retorted. "'I thought we were too angry, disgusted, disappointed. "'Something,' he murmured apologetically, but evidently much relieved. Dr. Galbraith went on with his pruning, and presently the twins appeared walking down the proper approach to the garden, hand in hand, demurely. After they had saluted their host politely, they stood and stared at him. "'Well,' he said at last. "'I suppose we are too late,' said Angelica. "'For what?' he asked, without pausing in his occupation. "'For the viv... viv... vivinous sectioninning.' "'Vivinous sectioninning? What on earth?' "'Oh,' Light broke in upon him. "'Who told you I was?' "'Mr. Ellis,' said Angelica. "'No, he didn't tell us you were exactly,' Diavolo explained, with conscientious accuracy. "'He asked Papa if it was true that you were going to this afternoon.' "'And what were you doing?' Dr. Galbraith asked astutely. "'We were in the drawing room,' Angelica answered. "'Trying to find out from a lady why she tied herself up so tight in the middle.' "'And so you came off here to see?' "'Yes,' said Diavolo. "'We wanted to catch you at it.' "'You little brute, misbegotten by the... Dr. Galbraith began, but Diavolo interrupted him. "'Sir,' he exclaimed, drawing himself up with an expression of as much indignation as could be got into his small patrician features. "'If you do not instantly withdraw that calumny, I shall have to fight you on my mother's behalf, and I shall consider it my duty to inform her of the insinuation which is the cause of offense.' "'I apologize,' said Dr. Galbraith, taking off his hat and bowing low. "'I assure you the expression was used as a mere façande parlais.' "'I accept your explanation, sir,' said Diavolo, returning the salute. "'But I caution you to be careful for the future.' "'What is a façande parlais, Angelica?' he whispered as he put his hat on. "'Oh, just a way of saying it,' she answered. "'I wish you wouldn't talk so much. Men are always cackling by the hour all about nothing. If people come to see me when I have a house of my own, I shall not forget the rites of hospitality.' The doctor put up his pruning-knife. There was a twinkle in his gray eyes. "'If you will do me the favor to come this way,' he said. "'My slaves will prepare a small collation on the instant.' "'Oh, yes,' said Diavolo. "'Arabian knights, you know. You must have fresh fruits and dried fruits, choice wines, cakes, sweets, and nuts. "'It shall be done as my Lord commands,' said the doctor.' That same evening, when he took the children home, Dr. Galbraith found Lady Adeline alone. She was a plain woman, but well bred in appearance, and tender thoughts had carved a sweet expression on her face. Next to her brother, Dawn, Dawn's most intimate friend, Dr. Galbraith, was the man in the world upon whom she placed the greatest reliance. "'I have brought back the children,' he said. "'Ah, then they have been with you,' she answered in a tone of relief. "'We hoped they were.' "'Oh, yes,' he said, smiling. "'They showed me exactly what the difficulty here had been, and I have been endeavoring to win back their esteem, for they made it appear plainly that they despised me when they found me peacefully pruning rose-trees, instead of dismembering live rabbits, as Mr. Ellis had apparently led them to expect. "'They told you then?' "'Oh, exactly, I am sure. About the lady tied too tight in the middle and everything.' "'They are terrible, George, those children,' Lady Adeline declared. "'My whole life is one ache of anxiety on their account. I am always in doubt as to whether their unnatural acuteness portends vice or is promising, and whether we are doing all that ought to be done for them.' "'I am sure they are in very good hands now,' he answered cheerfully. "'Mr. Ellis is an exceedingly good fellow. They like him too, and I don't think anybody could manage them better.' "'No,' said Lady Adeline, "'but that only means that no one can manage them at all. They are everywhere. They know everything. They have already mastered every fact in natural history that can be learnt upon the estate. And they will do almost anything, and are so unscrupulous that I fear sometimes they are going to take after some criminal ancestor they may have been in the family, although I never heard of one, and go to the bad altogether. "'Now what is to be done with such children? I hardly dare allow myself to hope that they have good qualities enough to save them, and yet—' "'And yet they are lovable,' she added, looking at him wistfully. "'Most lovable. And I am sure you need not disturb yourself seriously,' he answered with confidence. "'The children have vivid imaginations and incomparable courage. And their love of mischief comes from exuberance of spirits only, I am sure. When Angelica's womanly instincts develop and she has seen something of the serious side of life, been made to feel it, I mean, she will become a very different person, or I am much mistaken. Her character promises to be as fine when it is formed, as it will certainly be unusual. And as for Diavolo, well, I have seen no sign of any positive vice in either of them. "'You comfort me,' said Lady Adeline. "'How did you entertain them?' "'Oh, we had great fun,' he replied, laughing. We hadn't impromptu Arabian knights' entertainment, with all the men and women about the place disguised as slaves. And they all entered into the spirit of the thing heartily. I assure you, I never enjoyed anything more in my life. But I must go. I am on my way to town tonight to read a paper tomorrow morning upon a most interesting case of retarded brain development, which I have been studying for the last year. If I am right in my conclusions, we are upon the high road to some extraordinary and most valuable discoveries.'" "'Now that is a singular man,' Lady Adeline remarked to Mr. Ellis afterwards. She had been telling the tutor about the success of his stratagem. He spent valuable hours today playing with my children, and he says he never enjoyed anything so much in his life, and I quite believe him. And tomorrow he will probably astonish the scientific world with the discovery of the last importance.'" "'I call him a human being perfectly possessed of all his faculties,' Mr. Ellis answered. "'The twins worked well by fits and starts. But when they did not choose to be diligent, they considerably gave their tutor a holiday. The last threat of a thrashing for Diavolo happened to be on the first of these occasions. "'It looks a good morning for fishing,' he remarked casually to Angelica, just after they had settled down to lessons. "'Yes, it does,' she answered. There was a momentary pause, and then away went their books, and they were off out of the window. But Mr. Ellis succeeded in capturing them, and laying hold of an arm of each, he dragged them before the paternal tribunal in the library. He was not intimate with the peculiar relations of the household to each other at that particular time, and he thought Mr. Hamilton Wells would prefer to order the punishment himself for so serious an offense. Angelica shook her hair over her face and made sufficient faint of resistance to tumble her frock on the way. While Diavolo pretended to be terror-stricken, but this was only to please Mr. Ellis with the delusion that fear of their father gave him a moral hold over them. For the moment Mr. Hamilton Wells frowned upon them, they straightened themselves and beamed about, blandly. Mr. Hamilton Wells ordered Diavolo to be thrashed, and Diavolo dashed off for the cane and handed it to his tutor politely, saying at the same time, Do be quick, Mr. Ellis, I want to get out. You wouldn't dare to thrash him if you were big enough to thrash you back, Angelica shrieked, waltzing round like a tornado. And it isn't fair to thrash him and not me, for I am much worse than he is. You know I am, papa, and I shall hate you if Diavolo is thrashed, and teach him how to make your life a burden to you for a month I shall, stamping her foot. It always made her blood boil if there were any question of corporal punishment for Diavolo. She could have endured it herself without a murmur, but she had a feminine objection to knowing that it was being inflicted, especially as she was not allowed to be present. Don't be an idiot Angelica, Diavolo drawled, I would rather be thrashed and have done with it. It does fellow's good to be thrashed, makes the manly they say in the books, and it hurts a jolly sight less than being scratched by you if that is any comfort. Oh you are mean, Angelica exclaimed, wait till we get outside. I think, sir, Mr. Ellis ventured to suggest an answer to an appealing glance from Mr. Hamilton Wells, and looking dubiously at the cane. I think, since Diavolo doesn't care a wrap about being flogged, I had better devise a form of punishment for which he will care. Then come along, Diavolo, Angelica exclaimed, making a dash for the door. They won't want us while they're devising. Mr. Ellis would have followed them, but Mr. Hamilton Wells gently restrained him. It is no use, Mr. Ellis, he said, sighing deeply. I would recommend you to keep up a show of disapproval for form's sake, but I beg that you will not give yourself any unnecessary trouble. They are quite incorrigible. I hope not, the tutor answered. Well, I leave them to you. Make what you can of them, their father rejoined. I wash my hands of the responsibility while you are here. The heavenly twins got their day's sport on that occasion, and returned with a basket full of trout for tea, fishy themselves and tired, but bland and conciliatory. They dressed for the evening carefully and without coercion, which was always a sign of repentance, and then they went down to the school room, where they found Mr. Ellis standing with his back to the fireplace, reading a newspaper. He looked at them each in turn as they entered, and they looked at him, but he made no remark. I wish you would give us a good scolding at once and have done with it, Angelica observed. He made no sign of having heard, however, but quietly turned the paper over, chose a fresh item of information, and began to read it. Angelica sat down in her place at table, leaned back with her short frock up to her knees, and her long legs tucked under her chair, and reflected. Diavolo did the same, yawning aggressively. I'd sell my birthright for a mess of potage with pleasure this instant, he exclaimed. What was potage, Mr. Ellis? Angelica asked insinuatingly. You don't suppose the recipe has been handed down in the Ellis family, do you? said Diavolo. Angelica looked round for a missile to hurl at him, but there being nothing handy, she tried the effect of a withering glance, to which he responded by making a face at her. A storm was evidently brewing, but fortunately just at that moment, that's he arrived, and caused a diversion which prevented further demonstrations. Happily for those in charge of the twins, their outbursts of feeling were all squalls, which subsided as suddenly as those of the innocent babe which howls everybody in the house out of bed for his bottle, and is beyond all comfort till he gets it, when his anger instantly goes out, and only a few gurgling, ohs, of intense satisfaction mark the point from which the racket proceeded. For a week Mr. Ellis maintained an attitude of dignified reserve with the twins, and their sociable souls were much exercised to devise a means to break down the barrier of coldness which they found between themselves and their tutor. They tried everything they could think of to beguile him back to the old friendly footing, and it was only after all other means had failed that they thought at last of apologizing for their unruly conduct. It was the first time that they had ever done such a thing in their lives spontaneously, and they were so proud of it that they went and told everybody they knew. Mr. Ellis, having graciously accepted the apology, found himself expected to discuss the whole subject of tea that evening. Of course we were quite in the wrong, said Angelica, taking advantage of the peace-angel's presence to sum up comprehensively. But you must acknowledge that we were not altogether to blame, for you really have not been making our lessons sufficiently interesting to rivet our attention lately. That is true, said the diligent Diavolo. My attention has not been riveted for weeks. After the twins had made their memorable apology, they were so impressed by the importance of the event that they determined to celebrate it in some special way. They wanted to do something really worthy of the occasion. We'll do some good to somebody, shall we? said Angelica. Not lest there's some fun in it, said Diavolo. Well, who proposed to do anything without fun in it? Angelica wanted to know. You've no sense at all, Diavolo. When people get up fancy fairs and charity balls, do they pretend to be doing it for fun? No. They say, oh, my dear, I am so busy I hardly know what to do first. But what keeps me up is the object, the good object. And then they're enjoying it as hard as they can all the time. And that's what we'll do. We'll give the school children a treat. The twins were allowed an hour to riot about the place after their early dinner. And then a bell was rung to summon them in to lessons. But on that particular day Mr. Ellis waited in vain for them. Angelica had concealed her riding habit in a loft. And as soon as they got out, they ran to the stables, which were just then deserted, the men being at their dinner. And Angelica changed her dress while Diavolo got out their ponies and saddled them. And having carefully stolen through a thick plantation onto the high road, they scampered off to morning quest as hard as their lively little steeds could carry them. They were well known in morning quest, and many an admiring as well as inquiring glans followed them as they kented close together side by side through the quaint old streets. The people were wondering what on earth they were up to. Everybody looks so pleased to see us, said Diavolo, smiling genially. I think we ought to come oftener. We will, said Angelica. They pulled up at the principal confectioners in the place and bought as many pounds of sweets as they could carry, desiring the proprietor in a lordly way to send the bill to Hamilton House at his earliest convenience. And then they rode off to the largest day school in the city, stationed themselves on either side of a narrow gateway through which both boys and girls had to pass to get in, and pelted the children with sweets as they returned from their midday dinners. And as they had chosen sugar almonds, birds eggs, and other varieties of a hard and heavy nature, which, although interesting in the mouth of a child, are inconvenient when received in its eyes and cause irritation, which is up to be resented when pelted at the back of its head. The scene in a few minutes was extremely animated. This was what the heavenly twins called giving the school children a treat. And they told Mr. Ellis afterward that they enjoyed doing good very much. What shall we do now? said Diavolo, as they walked their ponies aimlessly down the street when that episode was over. Let's call on Grandpapa and the bishop, Angelica suggested. The bishop first, then, said Diavolo. They've such good cakes at the palace. Well, that's just why we should do Grandpapa first, said Angelica. Don't you see, we can have cake at Morn, and we shall be able to eat the ones at the palace too, if they're better. Yes, said Diavolo, with grave precision. I notice myself that, however much I have had, I can always eat a little more of something better. That's what they mean by tempting the appetite, observed Angelica sagely. End of Book 1, Chapter 20, Part 1 Book 1, Chapter 20, Part 2 of The Heavenly Twins This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Devorah Allen The Heavenly Twins by Sarah G. Book 1, Chapter 20, Part 2 When the children arrived at the castle, it occurred to them that it would be a very good idea to ride right in and go upstairs on their ponies. But they only succeeded in mounting the broad steps and entering the hall, where they were captured by the footmen and respectfully persuaded to a light. They announced that they had come to call on the Duke of Morningquest, and were conducted to his presence with pomp and ceremony enough to have embarrassed any other equally dusty, dishevelled mortals. But the twins were not troubled with self-consciousness, and entered with perfect confidence. The Duke was delighted. If there was one thing which could give him more pleasure than another in his old age, it was the wicked ways of the Heavenly Twins, and especially of the promising Angelica, who very much resembled him both in appearance, decision of character, and sharpness of temper. She promised, however, to be on a much larger scale, for the Duke was diminutive. He looked like one who stands in a picture at the end of a long line of ancestors, considerably reduced by the perspective. And it was as if in his person an attempt had been made to breed the race down to the vanishing point. His high-arched feet were admired as models of size and shape, and so also were his slender delicate hands. But neither were agreeable to an educated eye and an intelligence indifferent to the dignity of Dukes, but nice in the matter of proportion. The children found their grandfather in the Oriole Room, so called because of the great Oriole Window, which was a small room in itself, although it looked, as you approach the castle, no bigger than a swallow's nest on the face of the solid masonry, being the only excursions visible above the trees from that point of view. The castle stood on a hill which descended precipitously from under the Oriole, so that the latter almost overhung the valley in which the city lay below, and commanded a magnificent view of the flat country beyond, threaded by a shining, winding ribbon of river. The hill was wooded on that side to the top, and the castle crowned it, rising above the trees in irregular outline against the sky imposingly. The old Duke sat in the Oriole often, looking down at the wonderful prospect, but thinking less of his own vast possessions than of the great Cathedral of Morningquest, which he coveted for Holy Church. He had become a convert to Roman Catholicism in his old age, and his bigotry and credulity were as great now as his laxity and skepticism had been before his conversion. He was sitting alone with his confessor and private chaplain, Father Ricardo, a man of middle age, middle height, attenuated form, round head with coarse black hair, piercing dark eyes, aquiline nose somewhat thick, and the loose mouth characteristic of devout Roman Catholics, high church people, and others who were continually being wound up to worship an unseen deity by means of sensuous enjoyment. The uncertain lines into which the lips fall in repose, indicating fairly the habitual extent of their emotional indulgences. His manners were suave and deferential, his motives sincerely disinterested in the interests of the church, his method of gaining his ends unhampered by any sense of the need of extreme verbal accuracy. He was reading to the Duke when the children were announced, and rose and bowed low to them as they entered, with a smile of respectful and affectionate interest. Diavolo raised his dusty cap to his chest, and returned the bow with punctilious gravity. Angelica tossed him a nod as she passed up the room in a business-like way to where her grandfather was sitting facing the window. The old Duke looked round as the children approached, and his face relaxed. He did not absolutely smile, but his eyes twinkled. Angelica plumped down on the arm of his chair, put her arm round his neck, and deposited a superficial kiss somewhere in the region of his ear, while Diavolo rung his hand more ceremoniously, but with much energy. Both children seemed sure of their welcome, and comported themselves with their usual unaffected ease of manner. The old Duke controlled his mouth, but there was something in the expression of his countenance which meant that he would have chuckled if his old sense of humor had not been checked by the presence of the priest, which held him somehow to his new professions of faith, and the severe dignity of demeanor that best befits the piety of a professional saint. He was wearing a little black velvet skull cap, and Angelica, still sitting on the arm of his chair, took it off as soon as she had saluted him, looked into it, and clapped it on to the back of his head again, somewhat awry. I am glad you have your black velvet coat on today, she said, embracing the back of his chair with an arm, and kicking her long legs about in her fidgety way. It goes well with your hair, and I like the feel of it. Have you a holiday today? The Duke demanded, with an affectation of sternness. Yes, said Angelica absently, taking up one of his delicate hands, and transferring a costly ring from his slender white forefinger to her own dirty brown one. No, the more exact Diavolo contradicted, we gave Mr. Ellis a holiday. To tell you the truth, Grand Papa, I had forgotten all about lessons, said Angelica candidly. I fancy Mr. Ellis is fizzing by this time, don't you, Diavolo? What are you doing here if you haven't a holiday? Their grandfather asked. Visiting you, sir? Diavolo answered in his peculiar drawl, which always left you uncertain as to whether he intended an impertinence or not. He was lying at full length on the floor, facing his grandfather, with the back of his head resting on the low window sill, and the old gentleman was looking at him admiringly. He was not at all sure of the import of Diavolo's last reply, but had the tact not to pursue the subject. The priest had remained standing, with his hands folded upon the book he had been reading, and a set smile upon his thin intellectual face, behind which it was easy to see that the busy thoughts came crowding. Angelica turned on him suddenly, flinging herself from the arm of her grandfather's chair onto a low seat which stood with its back to the window in order to do so. I say, Papa Ricardo, I want to ask you, she began, what do you think of that boron de Chantal, whom you call Sainte, when her son threw himself across the threshold of their home to prevent her leaving the house, and she stepped across his body to go and be really jus. It was the heroic act of a holy woman, the priest replied. But I thought home was the woman's fear, said Angelica. Yes, the priest rejoined, unless God calls them to religion. But did God give her all those children, Angelica pursued? Yes, indeed, said Father Ricardo. Children are the gift of God. Well, so I thought I had heard, Angelica remarked, with a genial air of being much interested. But it seems such bad management to give a lady a lot of children, and then take her away so that she can't look after them. The poor old Duke had been dull all day. His mind, under the influence of his father confessor, had been running on the horrors of hell, and such subjects, together with the necessity of accomplishing certain good works, and setting aside large sums of money in order to excuse himself from such condemnation as the priest had ventured to hint, courteously, that even a great Duke might entail upon himself by the quite excusable errors of his youth. But since the heavenly twins arrived, the old gentleman had begun to see things again from a point of view more natural to one of his family, and his countenance cleared in a way which denoted that his spirits were rising. Father Ricardo was accustomed to say that the dear children's high spirits were apt to be too much for his grace. But this was a mistake, due doubtless to his extreme humility, which would not allow him to mention himself, for whom there was no doubt the dear children were apt to be too much. The old Duke, upon that last remark of Angelica's, twinkled a glance at his father confessor, which had an effect on the latter that made itself apparent in the severity of his reply. The ways of the Lord are inscrutable, he said, and it is presumptuous for mortals, however great their station, to attempt to fathom them. I have heard that before too, often, said Diavolo, with a wise nod of commendation. So have I, said Angelica, and then both children beamed at the priest cordially, and the long suppressed chuckle escaped from the Duke. Father Ricardo retired into himself. Grand Papa, Diavolo resumed, the heavenly twins never allowed the conversation to flag. Grand Papa, do you believe there ever was a little boy who never, never told a lie? I hope, sir, you do not mean me to infer that you are mendacious, the old gentleman sternly rejoined. Mendacious, Diavolo repeated, that's—do I tell lies, isn't it? Well, you see, sir, it's like this. If I'd been up to something, and you asked me if I'd done it, I'd say yes, like a shot. But if Angelica had been up to something and I knew all about it, and you asked me if she'd done it, I'd say no, flatly. Do I understand, sir, that you would tell me a lie, flatly? Yes, said Diavolo, decidedly, if you were mean enough to expect me to sneak on Angelica. Father Ricardo, the latter began energetically, when you tell a lie, do you look straight at a person, or just pass the side of their heads? I always look straight at a person myself, said Diavolo, gravely considering the priest. I can't help it. It's the best way, said Angelica, with the assurance of one who has tried both. I suppose, Grand Papa, she pursued, when people get old they have nothing to tell lies about. They just sit and listen to them. And again she looked hard at Father Ricardo, whose face had gradually become suffused with an angry red. I should think, Father Ricardo, said Diavolo, observing this. If you were a layman, you would be feeling now as if you could throttle us. But before the poor priest could utter the reproof which trembled on his lips, the door opened, and the Duke's unmarried daughter and youngest child, the beautiful lady Fulda, entered, and changed the moral atmosphere in a moment. Both children rose to receive her tender kisses affectionately. Their passionate appreciation of all things beautiful betrayed itself in the way they gazed at her. And hers was the only presence that ever subdued them for a moment. I like her in white and gold, Angelica remarked to Diavolo, when she had looked her longest. So do I, Diavolo rejoined with a nod of satisfaction. My dear children, Lady Fulda exclaimed, you must not discuss my appearance in that way. You speak of me as if I were not here. You never seem to be here, somehow, said Diavolo, struggling with a big thought he could not express. I always feel when you come in as if you are miles and miles away from us. Now Mama is always close to us and Papa gets quite in the way, but you seem to be— He raised both hands high above his head, with the palm spread outward, and then let his arms sink to his side slowly. The gesture expressed an immeasurable distance above and beyond him. Yes, said Angelica, I feel that too, but sometimes when there's music and flowers and no light to speak of, in church, you know, and you feel as if angels might be about, or even the Lord himself, I rise up beside you somehow and come quite close. Lady Fulda's eyes deepened with feeling as Angelica spoke, and drawing the child to her side, she smoothed her hair and gazed down into her face earnestly, as if she would penetrate the veil of flesh that baffled her when she tried to see clearly the soul of which Angelica occasionally gave her some such glimpse. The old Duke glanced round at the clock, and instantly the attentive priest stepped to the window and opened it wide. Then the Duke raised his hand as if to enjoin silence, and presently the music of the bells of the city clocks, striking the hour in various tones, and all at different moments causing a continuous murmurous sea of sound arose from below. When the last vibration ceased there was a quite perceptible pause. The Duke took off his little round black velvet cap, and leaned forward, listening intently. Lady Fulda bent her head and her lips moved. The priest folded his hands and looked straight before him with the unconscious eyes of one absorbed in thought or prayer who sees not. The twins, assuming a sanctimonious expression, bowed their hypocritical heads and watched what was going on out of the corners of their eyes. There was a moment's interval, and then came the chime, mellowed by distance, but clear and resonant. It was the habit of the old Duke to listen for it hour by hour, and while it rang, he, and those of his household who shared his faith, offered a fervent prayer for the restoration of Holy Church. Lady Fulda insisted on sending the children home under proper escort. They strongly objected. They said they were not going straight home. They had to call on the Bishop of Morningquest. Why are you going to call on the Bishop of Morningquest? Their aunt asked. We wish to see him, Angelica answered, stiffly. On the subject of rotten potatoes, Diavolo supplemented, Lady Fulda stared. Son Chantal, you know, said the ready Angelica. The reason was new to her, but the twins usually understood each other like a flash. They put a rotten potato on her plate one day at dinner, and she ate it. She was so hungry? Suggested Lady Fulda, trying hard to remember the story. No, so humble, Angelica answered. At least so they say in the book, but we don't think it could have been humility. It must have been horrid bad taste. But we're going to ask the Bishop. He's so temperate, you know. We tried to discuss the matter with Father Ricardo, but he shut us up promptly. My dear child, Lady Fulda exclaimed. What an expression! I assure you it is the right one, Aunt Fulda. Angelica maintained. He got quite red in the face. Yes, said Diavolo, gazing at Father Ricardo thoughtfully. He looked hot enough to set fire to us if he'd touched us. I should think he would have been invaluable in the inquisition, said Angelica, to whom that last remark of Diavolo's had opened up a boundless field of speculation and retrospect. Wouldn't you like to hear a heretic go off pop on a pile? She inquired, turning to Father Ricardo. The Duke and Lady Fulda glanced at him involuntarily, and very good-naturedly tried to smile. This, however, did not necessitate such an effort as the mere cold reading of the twins' remark might make it appear, for they both had a certain charm of manner, expressive of an utter absence of any intention to offend, which no kindly-disposed person could resist, and Father Ricardo was, essentially, kindly disposed. The twins were taking their leave by this time. Angelica proceeded to deposit one of her erratic kisses somewhere on the old Duke's head with an emphasis which caused him to wince perceptibly. Then she went up to Father Ricardo and shook hands with him. I hope the next time we come you will be able to tell us some nice bogey stories about death and the judgment and hell and that kind of thing, she said politely. They interest us very much. You remember you told us some before. It must be very jolly for Grand Papa to have you here always, ready to make his blood run cold whenever he feels dull, Diavolo observed, looking up at the priest admiringly. You do it so well, you know, just as if you believed it all. We tried it once with some children we had to spend the day with us at Hamilton House, Angelica said. We took them into a dark room, the long room you know, Aunt Folda, and Diavolo rubbed a match on the wall at the far end, and I explained that that was a glimmer of hellfire at a great distance off, and then we told them, if they didn't keep quite still, the old devil himself would come creeping up behind without any noise and jump on their backs. And the little beggars howled, Diavolo added, as if that consequence still filled him with astonishment. My dear children, I'm afraid you tell dreadful stories, Lady Folda exclaimed in a horrified tone. Yes, said Angelica, with her grave little nod. And we're improving, but we cannot come up to Father Ricardo yet in that line. Not by a long chuck, said Diavolo. But my dear child, Lady Folda solemnly asserted, Father Ricardo tells you nothing but what is absolutely true. How do you know, Angelica asked? Oh, oh, Lady Folda stammered, and then looked at the priest appealingly. When you are older and able to understand these things, Father Ricardo began with gentle earnestness. Perhaps you will allow me. But how do you know it's true yourself, Angelica demanded? Did you ever see the devil with his little spade and shovel digging pradies in the garden with his tail cocked up? Diavolo chanted, accompanying the words with a little dance, in which Angelica, holding up her habit, joined incontinently. Lady Folda remained grave, but the old duke and Father Ricardo himself were moved to mirth, and there was no more talk of revealed religion, the power of the poptem, and the glory of the church on earth, ed more in that day. Lady Folda had been firm about sending the children home under escort, and they found a steady old groom waiting ready to mount a spirited horse when they went down to the courtyard to get on their ponies. They had discovered a box of croquet mallets on their way downstairs, and borrowed one each. As they descended the steep hill leading from the castle at a walk, they began to discuss recent events as their habit was. What did you do when the chime went and you hung your head, said Angelica? I hoped there'd be hot cakes for tea, but I didn't mean it for a prayer, Diavolo answered, as if the matter admitted of a doubt. I'm glad we decided to go secondly to the palace. I didn't think much of Grandpa Papa's tea, Angelica observed. It was all China and no cakes, to speak of, no crisp ones, you know. Well, you see, his teeth are bad, said Diavolo indulgently. He has enough of them then, Angelica answered. Yes, but they aren't much good, they're so loose, you know. Every now and again you can see them waggle, said Diavolo. I'd like to see him bite a fig, said Angelica, chuckling. They'd stick, I suppose, said Diavolo meditatively. I expect there will be great improvements in those matters by the time we want to be patched. The groom, who had been riding at a respectful distance behind, suddenly perceived that he had lost sight of the children all together. The descent was steep just there and winding, and knowing with whom he had to deal, the man urged his horse on, straining his eyes at every turn to catch a glimpse of the twins, but vainly till he reached the bottom of the hill, when they bounced out on him suddenly from among the trees on either side of the road, whooping and flourishing their mallets wildly. The horse, which was very fresh, gave one great bound and bolted, and the heavenly twins, shrieking with delight, hunted him hard into morning quest. When they arrived at the palace, Angelica asked with the utmost confidence if the bishop were at home, and being informed by an obsequious footman that he was, the twins marched into the hall, and were ushered into the presence of Mrs. Beale and her daughter Edith. Tell his lordship we are here, Angelica said to the servant authoritatively, before she performed her salutations. When these were over, the twins sat down opposite to Edith and inspected her. We've just been seeing Aunt Folda, Diavolo remarked. Angelica caught the connection. Your hair is about the same color as hers, but your face is smoother, she observed. It looks like porcelain. Hers has little stipples you know about the nose when you go close. They seem to come as you get older. Uncle Dawn calls you Saxon Edith, said Diavolo. Don't you wonder he doesn't want to marry you? I do. When I'm old enough, I'm going to propose to you. Do you think you will have me? Have you? I should think not indeed, Angelica exclaimed with a jealous flash. At that time the notion of sharing her brother's affection with anybody always enraged her. Diavolo was irritated by her scornful manner. I am a little afraid, he began, addressing Mrs. Biel in his deliberate way. I am a little afraid Angelica will stand in the way of my making a good match. No respectable wife would have her about. Quick as thought, Angelica had him by the hair, and the two were tumbling over each other on the floor. Mrs. Biel and Edith sprang forward to separate them, but that was impossible until the twins had banged each other to their hearts' content when they got up, with their feelings thoroughly relieved, and resumed their seats in the conversation as if nothing had happened. The skirmish, however, had been severe, although short. Diavolo had a deep scratch over his right eyebrow which began to bleed profusely. Angelica was the first to notice it, and tearing out a handkerchief which was up her sleeve, she rolled it into a bandage roughly, whirled over to Diavolo and tied it round his head, covering his right eye, and leaving a great knot and two long ends sticking up like rabbit's ears amongst his fair hair, and a pointed flap hanging down on the opposite side. I must cut my nails, she remarked, giving a finishing touch to this labor of love which made Diavolo rock on his chair, but he accepted her attentions as a matter of course, merely drawing, Angelica is so energetical, as he recovered his balance. Just at this moment, the bishop bustled in. He had been engaged upon some important diocese and duties when the twins were announced, but thinking they must have come with an urgent message, he suspended the work of the diocese and hurried up to see what was the matter. The twins rose to receive him with their usual unaffected affability. He was a short, stout man with a pleasant face, and a cordial, well-bred manner, a little apt to be fussy on occasion and destitute of any sense of humor in other other people, although given to making his own little jokes. He was a bishop of the old-fashioned kind, owing his position to family influence rather than to any special attainment or qualification, but he was a good man and popular, and the Sea of Morning Quest would have had much to regret if the back door by which he got into the church had been shut before he passed through it. I am afraid there has been an accident, he said with concern when he saw Diavolo's head tied up in a handkerchief. Oh, no, thank you, sir, that young gentleman assured him. It is only a scratch. I did it, said the candid Angelica, and it looked unpleasant, so I tied it up. Oh! the bishop ejaculated, glancing inquiringly at his wife and daughter. You wanted to see me? Yes, said Diavolo, preparing to suit his conversation to the bishop's taste. There are a great many things we want to discuss with you. What were they, Angelica? I am sure I have forgotten them all. Let me see, said Angelica. Saint Chantal and the rotten potato had quite gone out of her mind. It was just to have a little interesting conversation, you know. We're getting on very well with our lessons, Diavolo gravely assured him, anticipating the inevitable question. We've just come from mourn, said Angelica. Indeed, the bishop answered, how was your grandfather? Rather flat today, said Angelica. He didn't say anything of interest, didn't even lecture us. No, but he looked pleasant, said Diavolo. I like him to lecture, Angelica insisted. I like him to talk about the church, how it is going to encompass the earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and that kind of thing, you know, boom, boom! He makes you feel as if every word he uttered ought to be printed in capital letters, and it seems as if your eyes opened wider and wider and your skin got tight. Diavolo nodded his head to one side in intelligent acquiescence. Not being troubled with self-consciousness, he wore the handkerchief with which his head was decorated with the grave dignity of his best behaviour. I sometimes think, sir, he began, addressing the bishop exactly in his father's precise way, that there is something remarkable about my grandfather. He is a kind of prophet, I imagine, to whom the Lord doesn't speak. Edith walked to the window. Mrs. Beale got out her handkerchief hastily. The bishop's countenance relaxed. I suppose you wouldn't like us to be converted, Angelica asked. We call it perverted, dear child, said Mrs. Beale. Well, they call it converted just as positively up at the castle. Angelica rejoined, not argumentatively, merely stating the fact. I wonder what the angels call it, said Diavolo, looking up in their direction out of a window opposite, and then glancing at the bishop as if he thought he ought to know. I don't suppose they care a button what we call it, Angelica decided offhand, out of her own inner consciousness. But you would not like us to be either con or per, would you, she asked the bishop. I am afraid I must not discuss so serious a question with you today, he answered. I am very busy, and I must go back to my work. I thought you looked unsettled, Angelica observed. I know what it is when you've got to come to the drawing room and want to be somewhere else. They won't excuse us at home as a rule, but we'll excuse you if you like. Uh, thank you, the old gentleman answered, glancing with a smile at his wife. But I should think some tea would do you good, Diavolo suggested. Have you not had any tea? Edith asked, stretching her hand out toward the bell. Well, yes, he answered. We've had a little. The tone implied, but not nearly enough. We always liked your cakes, you know, said Angelica, and ours at Hamilton House are generally nice, but at Morn they're sometimes sodden. The bishop withdrew at this point, and the children devoted the rest of their attention to the cakes. Now we've got to go and settle with Mr. Ellis, Diavolo remarked to Angelica, yawning, as they walked their ponies out of the palace grounds. Well, at any rate, we've done the celebration thoroughly, she answered, and enjoyed it. He won't be able to help that now. Oh, by the way, here's grandpa's ring. I forgot it. It doesn't matter, said Diavolo. He knows you'll take care of it. Almost at the same moment, the old Duke at Morn missed the ring, and remarked, ah, I remember, Angelica has it. She put it on her finger when she was sitting beside me this afternoon. Shall I go at once to Hamilton House and bring it back with me? Father Ricardo asked, somewhat officially. No, sir, thank you, said the Duke with dignity. My granddaughter will return the ring when it suits her convenience. Next day Angelica begged her father to take the ring back for her with a note of apology. Explaining that she had forgotten it, and expressing her regret. Chapter 23 Part of the old gray palace at Morning Quest had been a monastery. The walls were thick, the windows gothic, the bedroom small, the reception rooms huge, as if built for the accommodation of a whole community at a time. And with unexpected alcoves and angles and deep embrasures, all very picturesque and also extremely inconvenient. But Edith Beale, who had been born in the palace and grown up there, under the protection of the great cathedral as it were, and the influence of its wonderful chime, was never conscious of the inconvenience, and would not at any rate have exchanged it for the comfort and luxury of the best-appointed modern house. The Bishop of Morning Quest and Mrs. Beale had three sons, but Edith was their only daughter, their white child, their pearl, and certainly she was a lovely specimen of a well-bred English girl. On the day following that upon which the heavenly twins had celebrated the important occasion of their first spontaneous kowtow, as they called it, in the early morning Edith being still asleep, turned toward the east window of her room, the blind of which was up, and fell into a dream. The son, as he rose, smiled in upon her. She had flung her left hand up above her head with the ping-pong outward, and the fingers half bent. The right lay on the sheet beside her, palm downward, spread out, and all relaxed. Her whole attitude expressed the most complete abandonment of deep and restful sleep. The night had been warm, and the heavier draperies had slipped from her bed, on the farther side, leaving only the sheet. Her warm bright hair, partly loosened from the one thick braid into which it had been plated, fell from off the pillow to the floor on her right, and the son looking in lit it up and made it sparkle. She left that window with the blind undrawn so that he might arouse her every morning, and now as the first pale ray gleamed over her face, her eyelids quivered and half opened, but she was still busy with her dream and did not awake. She lived in an atmosphere of dreams and of mystic old associations. Events of the days gone by were often more distinctly pictured in her mind than incidents of yesterday. Mrs. Orton Begg, her mother, and all the gentle-mattered, pure-minded women among whom she had grown up, thought less of this world, even as they knew it, than of the next as they imagined it to be, and they received and treasured with perfect faith every legend, hint, and shadow of a communication which they believed to have come to them from thence. They neglected the good they might have done here in order to enjoy their bright and tranquil dreams of the hereafter. Their spiritual food was faith and hope. They kept their tempers even and unruffled, by never allowing themselves to think or know, so far as that is possible, with average intelligence, not to do, either, in this world anything that is evil of anybody. They prided themselves on only believing all that is good of their fellow creatures. This was their idea of Christian charity. Thus they always believed the best about everybody, not on evidence, but upon principle. And then they acted as if their attitude had made their acquaintances all they desired them to be. They seemed to think that by ignoring the existence of sin, by refusing to obtain any knowledge of it, they somehow helped to check it, and they could not have conceived that their attitude made it safe to sin, so that when they refused to know and to resist, they were actually countenancing evil and encouraging it. The kind of Christian charity from which they suffered was a vice in itself. To keep their own minds pure was the great object of their lives, which really meant to save themselves from the horror and pain of knowing. Edith, by descent, by teaching, by association, and in virtue of the complete ignorance in which she had been kept, was essentially one of that set. It is impossible for any adult creature to be more spiritually minded than she was. She lived in a state of exquisite feeling. The whole training of her mind had been so directed as to make her existence one long, beatific vision, and she was unconsciously prepared to resent in her gentle way and to banish at once, if possible, any disturbing thought that might break in upon it. In her dream that morning she smiled at first, and then she fairly laughed. She had met the heavenly twins, and they were telling her something. What was it? The most amusing thing she had ever heard them say. She knew it by the way it had made her laugh. Why couldn't she repeat it? She was trying to tell her mother, and while in the act she became suddenly aware of a strange place, and Diabolo kneeling at her feet, clasping her left hand and kissing it. She felt the touch of his lips distinctly. They were soft and warm. He was beseeching her to marry him. She understood, and she was going to laugh at him for being a ridiculous boy. But it was the steadfast dark blue eyes of Lord Dawn that met hers, and she was looking up at him, and not down at the fair hair Diabolo kneeling before her. She caught the gloss of Lord Dawn's black hair, the curve of his slight moustache and the gleam of his white teeth. He was grave, but his lips were parted, and he carried a little child in his arms, and the expression of his face was like the dear lords in a picture of the Good Shepherd, which he had in her room. He held the little child out to her. She took it from him, smiling, raised its little velvet cheek to hers, and then drew back to look at it. But it was horrified because it was not beautiful at all, as it had been the moment before, but deformed, and its poor little body was covered with sores. The sight sickened her, and she tried to cover it with her own clothes. She tore at the skirt of her gown. She struggled to take off a cloak she wore. She stripped herself in the endeavor and cried aloud in her shame, but she could not help herself, and Dawn could not help her. And in the agony of the attempt she awoke and sprang up, clutching at the bed clothes, but was not able to find them at first, because they had fallen on the floor, and she fancied herself, still in her horrible dream. Big drops of perspiration stood in her forehead, her eyes were dazzled by the sun, and she was all confused. She jumped out of bed and stood a moment, trying to collect herself, and the first thing she saw distinctly was the picture of the Savior on the wall. A pre-due stood beneath it, and she went and knelt there, her beautiful, yellow hair streaming behind her, her eyes fixed on the wonderful, sad, sweet face. Dear Lord, she prayed passionately, keep me from all knowledge of unholy things, by which she meant sights and circumstances that were unlovely and horrified. She knelt for some minutes longer, with all articulate thoughts suspended. But by degrees there came to her that glow in the chest, that expansion of it, which is the accompaniment of the exalted sentiment known to us as adoration, or love, love purged of all earthly admixture of doubt and fear, which is the most delicious sensation human nature is capable of experiencing. And presently she arose, free from the painful impression made by the revolting details of her dream, put her hands under her hair, at the back of her neck, and then raised them up above her head, and her hair with them, stretching herself and dawning slightly. Then she brought her hair all around to the right in a mass, and let it hang down to her knees, and looked at it dreamily, and then began to twist it slowly, preparatory to coiling it round her head. She went to the dressing table for hairpins to fasten it, holding up her long night-dress above her white feet with one hand that she might not trip, and standing before the mirror lashed at the beauty of her own reflection. When she had put her hair out of the way, she glanced at her bed somewhat longingly, then at her watch. It was very early, and the morning was chilly. So she put on her white flannel dressing gown, got a book, returned to her bed, and propped herself up in a comfortable position for reading, and so she spent the time happily until her maid came to call her. Her book that morning was The Life of Frances Ridley Havergale, and she found it absorbingly interesting.