CHAPTER IV. LADY ARABELLA gave a sigh of immense relief. She was standing near old Colonel Clark-Winter, the rich autocrat of the district, and she saw his eyes follow Phil's movements with intensest surprise. "Your son has returned?" he said, in a tone of inquiry. "Did not like the colony, I suppose, eh?" He, too, put up his eyeglass. "He's a handsome young fellow, Lady Arabella. You must get him married eh?" And the vision of six unattached ClarkWinters, in all their best bibs and tuckers, with their best go-to-meeting smiles on their waxen faces, come before his mind. Lady Arabella smiled. She, also, saw the same picture. She knew what Phil would think of it. "Is he inclined to settle down?" Phil" "settling was so unlike Phil unsettled that Lady Arabella smiled again. But she answered bravely, "Oh, yes; I believe he is," and then proceeded to chat with apparent complacency to her old enemy, on the art of bringing up children, a branch of education in which he had had much experience. "That question I hope to leave unanswered until the Greek Kalends. Why disturb ourselves?" 66 Yes, Phil," said she, drawing herself back a step or two. "Yes, Phil, that's all very well; but it cannot go on." "It can, in my case; and in yours too, you use your judgment." "Have I any, Phil?" she asked sadly. "Hear that!" he cried gaily. "Hear that, ye gods! Has she any judgment? If she hasn't- who has?" if "I have shown it so powerfully, haven't I?" "Let us sit down, and have a talk," said he, by way of leaving an unpleasant subject. Phil was ever ready at that sort of thing. They sat down on a low seat, under the shelter of the tall palms that made the conservatory so lovely; and with sweet odors stealing softly from unseen roses, "made believe" that they were supremely happy for a moment or two. Then the girl lifted her head from his shoulder, and laid her hand firmly there instead. "Phil!-dear Phil! let me tell her, if you will not I beg of you." Phil moved uneasily. He hated pain, trouble, worry of any kind. He had returned home, like the prodigal, and the fatted calf had been killed - if not exactly The dinner passed over well, no little in his honor, at least conveniently in time thanks to Phil, who had a fund of conver--and Phil had settled down most comsation ready, and if at times he romanced fortably in his own mind; and then slightly why, is that not a temptation to which all travellers are liable, from the greatest to the least? Phil was no exception, at all events. He followed the ladies very speedily to the drawing-room, and sang song after song to amuse the guests; and then, to amuse himself, he stole away into the large conservatory that had been built outside the drawing-room, with a doorway cut through the eight-feet-thick wall of the tower. There he found Constance. It was astonishing what cool ways Mr. Phil possessed. For instance, he passed his arm composedly round this young lady's waist and smiled calmly down into her troubled eyes, and with a gentle whiff of breath blew her curls to right and to left, until they revealed a nice white spot of forehead on which he could leave a kiss. “Ah, Phil," said Constance sadly," this is all very well; but — après ? ” "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I don't suppose you are prepared to deny that, are you, Con?" "We have had so many evil days," she murmured. "We shall have so many more. What next?" Con was too provoking. It was enough, as he said, "to make a saint angry." And he was no saint. So he frowned a little, and looked as fierce as he could. Constance put up her white hand, and calmly effaced the frown. "Let me do it, Phil!" she whispered once more. "Not to-night. I'll see about it. I'll do it myself, Con," he replied, and then there came an interruption in the person of Colonel Clark-Winter, who was the most obtuse man that ever lived, and who seated himself with unblushing effrontery on a wicker chair in front of the two. Constance had retired to one corner of the seat, and Phil lounged in another, the colonel, seated immediately before them, formed his own conclusions. "They don't agree, these two. Quarrelled perhaps. Doesn't matter to me. Must get him to think of - Helen! Helen will suit him to perfection. H'm, -hum, -humph." He cleared his throat. "You young folks like to be cool. Nice place this of your mother's." He looked round complacently. "We must have you up at the Hermitage, Mr. Phil. You must dine with us next week. Miss Selwyn too, I hope." The colonel bowed pleasantly. He had made a tremendous "pot of money in business, and was colonel of militia; so he gave himself unlimited airs, which amused Lady Arabella and Phil. "Lady Arabella has promised to come." done so had she known that he was with Colonel Clark-Winter; but fearing she knew not what, she came in search. "Phil!" she exclaimed in accents of surprise, when she saw him. "What is the matter?" "I believe I am," said the colonel, rising out of the shadows. "I am keeping your son from more agreeable concerns, I He saw Phil as a prospective "lion," and was glad he was going to act as show-fear, Lady Arabella." man first of all. She smiled quietly. "You must give us some information regarding the h'm-the colony. Ha, ha! we shall have you as great a diplomatist as Mr. Monkton very soon.' Somehow the mention of Ned's name made Phil moody. He made some sort of reply to the colonel, not caring much what he said. "Fortunately the old boy likes the sound of his own voice best," said Phil later on, when he thought his promise over. "Perhaps he never heard what I said. A precious lot I know about the colony! Oh, hang it! I do know where the cheapest dinners can be had, and where you can lodge at the lowest rate with comfort. That's about all! Never mind. I'll go and dine at the Hermitage. Con will be there, bless her! I have hardly had a moment's talk with her, after all this long time." Colonel Clark-Winter talked on in his babbling kind of way for some time. He knew a little of Australia too, it turned out, and his information differed from Phil's, which made it interesting-very to the young man. The colonel aired his knowledge peacefully, while Constance crept softly back to the room; and Phil, with his hands clasped behind his head, and his feet crossed, made himself as happy as he could under the circumstances and heard very little of his friend's narrative. 66 Ah, no; he could not do better than talk to you from time to time," she said, in a tone that implied many things. "I did not see you at first, and was prised at finding him alone.” Phil looked up merrily, giving her a quick, sharp glance. - sur "My mother always gives me credit for more than is in me, colonel. She believes in her son to the extent of thinking he could always do something-wrong-if he chose. I am not Ned, you see." The colonel grew quite paternal. He put his shaky old hand on the young fellow's arm. 66 Ah, my boy, matrimony is clearly the thing to keep you at home. A nice house and a decent little place, with a comely woman at the head of it, is worth all the rest of our counsels and so forth." He grew quite eloquent, and might have said much more, only that Lady Arabella drew her son's arm within her own hastily, and took a step or two in the direction of the room, saying to the colonel over her shoulder: "Phil must come and see you, and get some good advice. He will be dull at home nowadays. It would have been different if Ned had been here." Then a blaze of light met them through the deep passage, and the sound of music reached their ears. In the distance Constance Selwyn was In truth, he was really thinking for singing very softly and beautifully, and once in his life- -poor Phil! Circum- her rich contralto voice was nowhere stances had always been hard upon him; heard to greater perfection than at Monkthey were harder than ever just now. He ton. Phil sauntered idly in her direction, had returned, and, by sheer force, had and Colonel Clark-Winter's brow dark. made his return turn out well, even with ened. éclat, and in the very moment of triumph Constance interferes and troubles him. "It is too bad," said Phil, shaking his head. "What shall I do to quiet her? My mother is a dear creature; but she, alas! has hopes,' which I am compelled to disappoint. It's a bad business altogether.' Much to Phil's relief, Lady Arabella felt it her duty to look after him that evening. Perhaps she would not have "Your son seems to pay that young lady some attention," he observed, as both Lady Arabella and he came to a stand by the door through which they had entered. Lady Arabella looked over to the piano, and said gently: 66 They were brought up together." "Is this to be always her home, then?" "I suppose so. I really do not know. It will be-if she marries Edward, I believe." She turned to him as she spoke; but it was very unlike Lady Arabella to stammer so much over a few harmless remarks. Colonel Clark-Winter marked her hesitation; he followed up the conversation. "Are you doubtful as to whether she will- -or will not?" he asked grimly. "Will-what?" "Marry Mr. Monkton?" "It is, of course, problematical. You cannot make young people act as you like, can you?" "Mine are obliged to do so." The stern emphasis of his words made Lady Arabella look across to the young Clark-Winters who were present. And she felt more compassion for them at that moment, than at any other before - or since. "Constance Selwyn is entirely beyond my control," she said, with a proud air that became her well. "But your son, I take it, is not. And is it not rather impolitic to throw her so much in the society of one son when the other is away?" "We are expecting Edward home this week," she said gravely. The old warrior smiled approvingly. "That is good hearing! Let us hope his visit will be a long one." "I don't know," sighed Lady Arabella. "He comes seldom, and stays a very short time-too short for me. But, I suppose we are rather quiet people, and he is used to a bigger world." The colonel's smile deepened. He was sincerely glad to hear that Edward Monkton was coming home, no matter for how short a time; sincerely glad, also, that it was on the cards that he should marry Constance. He would not fail to be charmed with her, that went without say. ing. For himself, he liked Phil. He did more. He coveted Phil. The Clark-Winters were rich in the matter of daughters, but they had no sons; and to remedy this, a son-in-law was the next best thing. The colonel set his heart on Phil. "Edward Monkton is all very well," said he, " but I like big men - something to show for my money- Helen is tall, she wants a tall man ; yes," looking at him critically as he leaned over the piano to look into Constance's eyes. "Yes, Phil is the kind of young fellow to please me." Poor Phil again! And he was so happy just now - even though he could not induce Constance to acknowledge that she was wild with delight at seeing him. Your voice I hear amid my life's long sadness, And it's sometimes, only sometimes, Sometimes, dear, beside the rippling river, When the night-breeze murmurs from the far-away, Sighing for the days gone by forever, for aye Dreaming of the heart's love-music, hushed Sometimes, dear, I seem to see you standing And I feel, amid the gloom your guiding hand, All my sadness into song beguiling, As once more beside the rippling stream we stand. And it's sometimes, only sometimes, When our hearts shall meet again. "It is a sad song," said Phil, after a long pause, when she had ended. "Sing something brighter, dear." Her fingers strayed over the notes, touching first one chord and then another, with a sort of lingering love for the suggestions of melody which they imparted. She seemed, with head bent down, to be listening to the voice of the notes. "I like it," she said presently. "That song? And so do I-only it is my first night at home, love. Sing me something for myself." The voice was low and caressing, there was no resisting it. Constance dared not look up. She let herself drift with the hour, and poured out her heart in the passionate words he was longing to hear. She sang so that none could help hearing, and a hush fell over the room; and the wonderful throbbing melody pulsated in the heart of the man who hung over her, hardly daring to move, lest he should destroy the spell. The evening passed like a dream, and at last it was all over. The last guests had rolled away over the silent moorlands, and the Tower was quiet once more. Two figures stood behind the motionless "man" in armor, and the moonbeams strayed over both lovingly. He drew her close to him. "My darling!" he whispered passionately. "At last I have you all to myself and even now you are shaking for fear of others!" "Oh, Phil! if they came - if they saw - what would they say?" "My dearest dear," cried the unabashed Phil. "I don't care two pins. I would behave like this before them all." "You wouldn't!" she retorted, with a laugh. They stood talking for some moments, then, as if a sudden recollection had come to her, Constance started. "Oh, Phil!" she cried hastily. "Such bad news! Ned is coming home." And once again the sunlight broke over Phil's face, as he repeated the words he had previously used to his mother with reference to Ned. "Dear old boy, bless him! I am in luck!" Constance drew back in some astonish ment. "Phil!" she cried. "Do you mean it ? " "Mean it? I should rather think I do. I'm as glad as I can be, that's all." Constance laughed. Then she looked grave, and took hold of both his hands, looking into his dark eyes with her cooler grey ones. "Phil, my dear old Phil!" she said gently, and there was a sound as of tears in her voice. "You are either a saintor forgive me, Phil — a fool! Which are you?" "An't please your majesty — neither!" was the instant rejoinder. "A saint is an inconvenient kind of creature to keep knocking about a house. He ought to live permanently on a shelf above your head. And a fool is a nuisance, always in the way. No, my dear, your Phil is neither, he is an ass, I grant you. I am modest, you perceive; and he is only an erring, sinful kind of a wretch after all. You know that, don't you, Con?" "I know this," and she drew down his head, and kissed him tenderly. "I have my own opinions - I must live, and wait, and see whether you are a greater saint, or," and she laughed a little, "a greater fool. Good-night, Phil. God bless you, and God keep all harm from us both, dear." "Amen!" he echoed, with many additions needless to be recounted. But in Constance's heart there was a weight of care. "Ned is coming home. Ned is coming home," she kept on repeating, without one grain of pleasure in the repetition. "And what is to become of us?" What, indeed, little mistress Con? No one knew, not even Colonel Clark-Winter, not even Lady Arabella. It was a perplexed little head that sought its pillow. A perplexed mind that found refuge in sleep. But all through the night she was pursued by a phantom, a goblin of ill-omen and this elf took the face and the form of Edward Monkton. "What a shame! What a libel!" Phil would have said - probably did say the next morning, when he was told. But of course it was Phil who said so. Who else could it be? CHAPTER V. IN due time Mr. Monkton arrived, and his arrival was a marked contrast to that of Phil. a The carriage met him at the station mile and a half away - and the stout horses brought him in triumph home. Every old woman, and every toddling child knew that he was coming, and was on the lookout for his arrival. There were plenty of people to greet him. Poor Phil had been found wandering about the market-town on his way to a cab-stand. Cabs are good enough for prodigals. The carriage-and-pair are fittest for the hope of the family. And Ned looked his part to perfection. He was a very correct young fellow, his luggage in beautiful order, his "man,' faultlessly attired, behind him. Sir Edward, who was on the platform, greeted him with outstretched hand, and his son, with a grave smile, took it warmly, but yet not with the warmth of | exhibit some slight feeling for these usePhil. He would no more have kissed his ful relatives - once in a "blue moon." old father than he would have flown, and certainly not in public. He gave Lady Arabella his cheek decorously. She was his mother, so much he could concede. But he started when he saw Phil. "Phil!" he exclaimed, for once moved out of his ordinary tones. And Phil, as usual, bent down and gave him a brotherly salute that might have been heard beyond the gates. "I thought you were in-in-Australia!" ejaculated the diplomatist, when he recovered his breath and his "pose." "And so I was - once upon a time," said unrepentant Phil, in a rollicking tone. Then he pulled his cuffs down, and pruned himself up. It was always the diplomatist you saw when you looked at Edward Monkton the younger. He never forgot himself. The station-master received a gracious nod - Phil had nearly wrung his hand off and the old fat" But I thought better of it. Come along, coachman, Stephen, only had a "How Ned, and I'll take you to your room." are you, Stephen? "hurled up at him with gravity and studied politeness, where if it had been Phil Yes, she is." The same thought darted at once into the minds of Sir Edward and his son. "Why is she not with us?" "She did not know we had left," said Lady Arabella, answering the unspoken thought. "We came away in such a burry." Edward Monkton leaned back serenely, and looked about approvingly. "The game seems plentiful," he observed graciously, with a lordly air, and his father replied almost obsequiously. "Oh, yes, it is indeed. You will have some capital sport, I assure you, later on." New keeper good?" 66 "Excellent. Could not be better." Then they were all three silent, and at the next turn, the Tower came in sight. On the steps stood Constance with Blanche and Phil, and Edward Monkton's eyes brightened as they rested upon Con. He advanced to her with that old-fashioned courtesy, which won him so much approval in courtly circles; and Constance smiled frankly as she gave him her hand. To Blanche was vouchsafed as much of his cheek as his mother had touched. She was his sister, and men are bound to The housekeeper and some of the upper servants were in the hall to do honor to the heir, and Edward Monkton acknowledged their presence with a nod or two, as he followed his brother's steps, but in his own room he thawed a little. "Phil," he said with more empressement than Phil had ever heard him use before. Phil, that's the loveliest girl I've seen!" "Who?" asked the younger brother cautiously. "Who?"- he stared "where are your eyes, that you ask such a question? Constance Selwyn, of course. I never saw any one so lovely before." Phil colored to the roots of his hair, as he walked to the window and looked out, leaning his arms on the sill as he stood. Then he turned back into the room again, all sunshine and warmth as before. "Yes," he said gaily, “she is, and as good as she is beautiful. She is longing to see your sketches, and to hear you sing. She has not heard you since she was a little, tiny girl, you know and that is a long time ago." Edward Monkton smiled indulgently. "Not so very long ago, I fancy. She would make a sensation abroad, Phil." "She made one in London, I can tell you," cried the enthusiast, waxing warm | in generous praise. "And yet she came back here as simple and as nice as any two-year-old! Oh, the wonder of it in these days!" Edward Monkton mused quietly. "Is she staying here at present?" he asked his brother. "Yes, for some time." |
