"Do you think you can?"

"I am sure of it."

He rang for the landlady, and asked for writing materials. She apologised for the penny bottle of ink, and spoke of getting a table from the next room, but he said he could write very well on the chimney-piece. "I suppose I had better begin, 'Sir'?"

"Don't people generally begin, 'Dear Sir'?"

"Not when they don't know the people they are writing to."

"But you do know him a little. He always said you were very haughty.

You used to sit at his table."

"I think I had better begin the letter with 'Sir.'"

"Very well. You know best. He was always very jealous."

XVI

"SIR,--I hear from Miss Baker that you were in Brighton last week, and, drawing the inference from the fact that she came to my studio to sit for her portrait, you accuse her of very grievous impropriety. I beg to a.s.sure you that this is not so. At my urgent request, Miss Baker, whom I had better say I have known for some years, consented to give me a sitting. My intentions were purely artistic; hers were confined to a wish to oblige an old friend, and I deeply regret that they should have been misinterpreted, and I fear much unhappiness caused thereby."

"Do you think that will do?"

"Yes, it is a beautiful letter."

"Do you think so--do you really think so? Do you think I have said all?"

"You might say something--that I never even kissed you; and that you respected me too much."

"I will if you like, but don't you think that is implied?"

"Perhaps so; but you see he does not read many books. He hasn't time for much reading, and you put things in a difficult way. They sound beautiful, but I--"

"Show me."

"Well, this 'grievous impropriety.' I know what you mean, but I couldn't explain it."

"Shall I say 'serious impropriety'? but grievous is the right word.

You say a grievous sin for a mortal sin. If we had done any wrong it would have been a grievous sin; but I'll change the word if you like."

"No, don't change it on my account; but I think he would understand an easier word better."

"A 'heinous impropriety'? No, that won't do. A 'serious impropriety.'

That will do. Is there anything else you would like me to alter?"

"No, I don't think there is."

"You think this letter will convince him that there was nothing wrong?"

"I hope so; but he is a very suspicious man."

"I will post it when I go out." Then after a long silence: "Do you know what time it is? It must be getting late."

"It must be getting on for nine."

"Then I must say good-bye; but I forgot, I want to ask you--you must be hard up, and want some money--do you? If you do, I a.s.sure you I shall be only too glad."

"Well, I am rather hard up, for you know that this illness has prevented my doing anything; and I am afraid I have lost my place at the 'Tivoli.'"

"What do you intend to do?"

"I should like to go back to London. I shall see him there, and if the letter makes it right we may be married. I will write to you."

"You will?--Do. Here is five pounds. I have no more about me, but if anything should occur, you know where to write to."

"You are very good; I don't deserve it. I don't know why you take so much trouble about me. If he doesn't marry me I'll try to get another place; I shall go back to the firm."

"When do you intend to leave?"

"As soon as I am well enough, in a day or two; but you will not come here again."

"I had thought that I might."

"I know; but if he were to hear that you had been here, it would be worse than ever. You don't mind, do you? You aren't angry, are you?"

"No; good-bye, Lizzie. Write to me when you are married." Frank walked into the street. There was neither rage nor will in him. He was a sorrowing creature in a bitter world. The sea was cruelly blue in the coming night; the sky was also blue, only deeper, a red streak like a red bar of iron stretched across the embaying land, relieving into picturesque detail the outlines of coast-towns and villages. His eyes rested on and drew grief from this dim distance so illusive; and for jarring contrast, the pier hung with gaudy and gross decoration in the blue night, and a bra.s.s band replied to the waves.

Then the clouds lifted, and when he returned to Southwick the moon was shining and some boys pursued the resounding ball through the shadows.

He undressed with an effort, and he lay down hoping never to rise again. Next morning he went to his studio full of resolve. His picture must be finished for one of the winter exhibitions. He did not take up his palette, nor did he sit at his piano for more than a few minutes; and when he met w.i.l.l.y he raged against Lizzie, jeered at her vulgarity, heaped ridicule upon her lover, the waiter; he spoke of writing a novel on the subject; he set out her character at length; and was alarmed when told that Maggie was ill. He must win her. She must be his wife. So he told w.i.l.l.y, so he a.s.sured himself that she would. He knew that Lizzie was nothing to him. She had left Brighton, thank G.o.d! He went to sleep, certain he had torn this page out of his life, and he awoke to find it still there; and day after day he continued to brood upon, and still unable to understand its meaning, he longed to turn it over and read, for there were other pages; but they were sealed, and he might only read this one page.

"I'm afraid that our old friend Brookes is having a hard time of it,"

said the General, taking the spectacles from his nose, and laying down the _St James's_, "they are all at him tooth and nail," and the General laughed gleefully. "You are the young man who has upset them. The young lady won't dress herself."

"My dear Reggie, you shouldn't talk like that. I do hate to hear scandal; you'll repent it," said Mrs. Horlock, and she adroitly smoothed the wax on the horse's quarters.

"I a.s.sure you, Mrs. Horlock, I never repeat what I hear; the guiding principle of my life is not to repeat conversations. Particularly in a village like Southwick, it is most essential that none of us should repeat conversations; I have always said that."

"Do tell me about Maggie; I hear she is very ill. What is the matter with her? What did you say--the young lady won't dress herself?"

"My dear Reggie, I will not stay here and listen to scandal. Not a word of it is true, Mr. Escott."

"What is not true, Mrs. Horlock?"

"What he told you about her walking about the house with her hair down."