ll often suffice to change the whole intention and career of a life for good or for evil. It is as though a musician in the composition of a symphony should suddenly bethink himself o

n society and carelessness of conventions. She also heard that his works had been rejected twice by the Royal Academy Council, a reason he deemed all-sufficient for never appealing to that exclusive school of favouritism again,-while everything he chose to send was eagerly accepted by the French Salon, and purchased as soon as exhibited. His name had

the rarity of sincerity-and as for love!-there's no such thing permanently in man, woman or child. What is called 'love' is merely a comfortable consciousness that one particular person is agreeable and useful to you for a time-but it's only for a time-and marriage which seeks to bind two people together till death is the heaviest curse ever imposed on manhood or womanhood! Devoti

aste and sensitive in temperament she was the very last sort of creature to realise the ugly truth that men, taken en masse, consider women in one only way-that of sex,-as the lower half of man, necessary to man's continuance, but always the mere vessel of his pleasure. To her, Amadis de Jocelyn was the wonderful realisation of an ideal,-but she was very silent concerning him,-reserved and almost cold. This rather surprised good Miss Lavinia Leigh, whose romantic tendencies had been greatly stirred by the story of the knight of Briar Farm and the discovery of a descendant of the same family in one of the most admired artists of the day. They visited Jocelyn's studio together-a vast, bare place, wholly unadorned by the tawdry paraphernalia which is sometimes affected by third-rate men to create an "art" impr

years ago-I wonder what became of him? He promised great things. By the w

r cheeks and fled again

she an

at her inq

ou will hardly find two of ME!-and I expect I shall hardly find two of YOU!"

led with an

do you

self was conscious of

"There! You have it! I'm loth to believe it, and hope the report isn't t

ss and loss fell over her li

?" she asked-"We do n

smi

t is dif

ss Leigh looked a

t on l

e to consider cleverness, or 'genius' if you will, as our own exclusive property. We hate the feminine poacher on our particular preserves! We consider that women were made to charm and to amuse us-not to equal us. Do

n. She thought his talk trifling and

gularly gifted by nature-yes, dear child, I must be allowed to speak!"-this, as Innocent made an appealing gesture,-"and if people say she

e girl where she stood in a somewha

ournalist friend of mine, John Harrington-but I couldn't quite

!" she said, alm

amused, and taking her

rary women w

shly and her nerves thrill. She forgot the easy mockery which had distinguished his manner since when spea

eigh's little house in Kensington which she now called her "home"-

favourably in evening paper suggesting that you

ore deciding-and went to Miss Le

, what shall I do? Is it any use continuing to wear the veil

and drew the girl's f

face the criticism of the world, or be pointed out as a 'celebrity'-yes, I quite understand! But I think you must, in justice to you

ered, as with

from her kneeling attitude and moved away-"

wire to the publisher

true. You can con

tions from every possible quarter where "lion-hunting" is practised as a stimulant to jaded and over-wrought society, but amid all the attractions and gaieties offered to her she held fast by her sheet-anchor of safety, Miss Leigh, who redoubled her loving care and vigilance, keeping her as much as she could in the harbour of that small and exclusive "set" of well-bred and finely-educated people for

"I assure you I had no idea you could be t

d, a litt

ng and studying-I had no playmates and no games-and I was nearly always alone. I had only old bo

r-"I told Mr. Harrington, when he first suggested that you might

light deprec

" she said-"I am not at all ple

d-"Surely you must be happy

they are! To be stared at and whispered about and cri

lisher

id-"You've beaten all the literary fellows on their own

, as she rose to go-"I am gra

s no "falling-off"-he recognised the same lucidity of expression, the same point and delicacy of phraseology which had dis

book!" he said-"She's a wonder!-and the most wonderful thing about

ouncement of her authorship, ca

again before she dies. The work of the farm goes on as usual, and everything prospers-all is as Uncle Hugo would have wished-all except one thing which I know will never be! But you must not think I grumble at my fate. I might feel lonely if I had not plenty of work to do and people dependent on me-but under such circumstances I manage to live a life that is at least useful to others and I want for nothing. In the evenings when the darkness closes in, and we light the tall candles in the old pewter sconces, I often wish I could see a little fair head shining like a cameo against the d

t her ardent, enthusiastic soul on this wonderful discovery of the Real in the Ideal. She said nothing of her own work or success, save that she was glad to be able to earn her living. And when Robin read the simple outflow of her thoughts his heart grew cold within him. He, with the keen instinct of a lover, guessed at once all that might happen,-saw the hidden fire smouldering, and became cons

ll!-and now to come across a man o' the same name an' family, turning up all unexpected like,-why, it's like a ghost's sudde

ghed, a trif

ter-famous and admired,-he'll scarcely go in for farming! If he did-if he'd b

cried Priscill

d her ha

of some use-to Innocent." He paused, then added, slowly-"I

fashion and frivolity as though she were a queen of many kingdoms, crowned with victory. And again the old journalist, John Harrington, sought an audience of her, and this time was not refused. She received him in Miss Leigh's little drawing-room, holding out both her hands to him in cordial welcome, with a smile frank and sincere enough to show him at a glance that her "celebrity" had left her unscathed. She was still the same simple child-like soul, wearing the mystical halo of spiritual dreams rather than the brazen baldric of material prospe

rl with the frightened eyes, carrying a satchel for all her luggage, was a future great author, to whom I, as a poor old journalist, would have to bow!" He laughed kind

udying. She used to shut herself up all the morning and write-she told me she was finishing off some work-in fact it was her first book,-a manuscript she brought with her from the c

very astute person!-and I guessed at once, when I was told the address of the

ent b

said, "but really I WAS and AM the secretary of the

s, and then Harring

e told me I was talking nonsense-that you couldn't be,-he had met you at an artist's evening party and that you had told him a story about some ancestor of

ve a little

d he sa

You mustn't mind it-it's their way. Of course I rounded on Jocelyn and told him he was a fool, with a swelled head on the subject of his own sex-he IS a fool in many

rank?" queried Miss Leigh, mi

come out, I fear! He turns night into day too often. Oh, he's clever!-I grant you all that-but he hasn't a resolute will

e wanted to say-"No, no!-you wrong him! He is go

r thought and sat ve

told him in a sweet, ev

founded Briar Farm. H

e as by her way

night who disappeared and took to farming in the days of Elizabeth!" he said-"Upon my word

ent s

at an end no

looked at

ose. YOU are a romantic child!-I can see that!-but don't over-do it! And if you ever made an ideal out of your sixte

red to take his leave-and on rising from his chair sud

e!" he said, qui

we have just been speaking of," answered

Harrington, with some

him! One of the handso

f you like!-he might h

him?-do

s Leigh's gentle voice trembled a littl

swiftly to stare e

o you know you are rather like him! You

the usu

N

ht the same thing when I first met you-and HIS features are not easily f

ath qui

I were!"

looked

ell for yourself!-but don't be romantic! Keep that old 'French knight' of yours in