it? It has the merit of being very uncommon, at least, don't you think?""Beauty, I think, matters very little. He has no beauty, but his face has what, in a man, I think a great deal better--I mean refinement,
and cleverness, and a kind of satire that rather interests one," said Miss Arden, with animation.
Sir Walter Scott, in his "Rob Roy"--thinking, no doubt, of the Diana Vernon of his early days, the then beautiful lady, long afterwards celebrated by Basil Hall as the old Countess Purgstorf (if I rightly remember the title), and recurring to some cherished incident, and the thrill of a pride that had ceased to agitate, but was at once pleasant and melancholy to remember--wrote these words: "She proceeded to read the first stanza, which was nearly to the following purpose. [Then follow the verses.] 'There is a great deal of it,' said she, glancing along the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds that mortal ears can drink in--those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by the lips which are dearest to them." So writes Walter Scott. On the other hand, in certain states, is there a pain intenser than that of listening to the praises of another man from the lips we love?
"Well," said Darnley, "as you say so, I suppose there is all that, though I can't see it. Of course, if he tries to make himself agreeable (which he never does to me), it makes a difference, it affects everything--it affects even his looks. But I should not have thought him good-looking. On the contrary, he appears to me about as ugly a fellow as one could see in a day."
"He's not that," said Alice. "No one could be ugly with so much animation and so much expression."
"You take up the cudgels very prettily, my dear, for Mr. Longcluse," said Lady May. "I'm sure he ought to be extremely obliged to you."
"So he would be," said Richard Arden. "It would upset him for a week, I have no doubt."
There are few things harder to interpret than a blush. At these words the beautiful face of Alice Arden flushed, first with a faint, and then, as will happen, with a brighter crimson. If Lady May had seen it, she would have laughed, probably, and told her how much it became her. But she was, at that moment, going to her chair in the window, and Richard Arden would, of course, accompany her.
He did see it, as distinctly as he saw the glow in the sky over the park trees. But, knowing what a slight matter will sometimes make a recoil, and even found an antipathy, he wisely chose to see it not--and chatting gaily, followed Lady May to the window.
But Vivian Darnley, though he said nothing, saw that blush, of which Alice, with a sort of haughty defiance, was conscious. It did
not make him like or admire Mr. Longcluse more.
"Well, I suppose he is very charming--I don't know him well enough myself to give an opinion. But he makes his acquaintances
rather oddly, doesn't he? I don't think any one will dispute that."
"I don't know really. Lady May introduced him to me, and she seems to like him very much. So far as I can see, people are very well pleased at knowing him, and don't trouble their heads as to how it came about," said Miss Arden.
"No, of course; but people not fortunate enough to come within the influence of his fascination, can't help observing. How did
he come to know your brother, for instance? Did any one introduce him? Nothing of the kind. Richard's horse was hurt or lame at one of the hunts in Warwickshire, and he lent him a horse, and introduced himself, and they dined together that evening on the way back, and so the thing was done."
"Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?" asked Alice.
"Yes, where it is a kindness, I agree; but no one has a right to push his services upon a stranger who does not ask for them." "I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse if he had not liked," she answered.
"And Lady May, who thinks him such a paragon, knows no more about him than any one else. She had her footman behind her--
didn't she tell you all about it?"
"I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?"
"I think it does--that is, it has been a sort of system. He just gave her his arm over a crossing, where she had taken fright, and then pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can have been, and made her sit down to recover in a confec-tioner's shop, and so saw her home, and that affair was concluded. I don't say, of course, that he is never introduced in the regular
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way; but a year or two ago, when he was beginning, he always made his approaches by means of that kind of stratagem; and the fact is, no one knows anything on earth about him; he has emerged, like a figure in a phantasmagoria, from total darkness, and may lose himself in darkness again at any moment."
"I am interested in that man, whoever he is; his entrance, and his probable exit, so nearly resemble mine," said a clear, deep-toned voice close to them; and looking up, Miss Arden saw the pale face and peculiar smile of Mr. Longcluse in the fading twilight.
Mr. Longcluse was greeted by Lady May and by Richard Arden, and then again he drew near Alice, and said, "Do you recollect, Miss Arden, about ten days ago I told you a story that seemed to interest you--the story of a young and eloquent friar, who died of love in his cell in an abbey in the Tyrol, and whose ghost used to be seen pensively leaning on the pulpit from which he used to preach, too much thinking of the one beautiful face among his audience, which had enthralled him. I had left the enamel portrait I told you of at an artist's in Paris, and I wrote for it, thinking you might wish to see it--hoping you might care to see it," he added, in a lower tone, observing that Vivian Darnley, who was not in a happy temper, had, with a sudden impulse of disdain, removed himself to another window, there to contemplate the muster of the stars in the darkening sky, at his leisure.
"That was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse! You have had a great deal of trouble. It is such an interesting story!" said Alice.
In his reception, Mr. Longcluse found something that pleased, almost elated him. Had Richard Arden been speaking to her on the subject of their morning's conversation? He thought not, Lady May had mentioned that he had not been with them till just twenty minutes ago, and Arden had told him that he had dined with his uncle David and Mr. Blount, upon the same business on which he had been occupied with both nearly all day. No, he could not have spoken to her. The slight change which made him so tumultuously proud and happy, was entirely spontaneous.
"So it seemed to me--an eccentric and interesting story--but pray do not wound me by speaking of trouble. I only wish you knew half the pleasure it has been to me to get it to show you. May I hold the lamp near for a moment while you look at it?" he said, indicating a tiny lamp which stood on a pier-table, showing a solitary gleam, like a lighthouse, through the gloom; "you could not possibly see it in this faint twilight."
The lady assented. Had Mr. Longcluse ever felt happier?
CHAPTER XI.
THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES.
R. LONGCLUSE placed the little oval enamel, set in gold, in Miss Arden's fingers, and held the lamp beside her while she looked.
"How beautiful!--how very interesting!" she exclaimed. "What suffering in those thin, handsome features! What a strange enthusiasm in those large hazel eyes! I could fancy that monk the maddest of lovers, the most chivalric of saints. And did he really suffer that incredible fate? Did he really die of love?"
"So they say. But why incredible? I can quite imagine that wild shipwreck, seeing what a raging
