with a curious sense of uneasiness, marius lyndwood, entering his brother’s drawing-room, saw the countess there, alone.

it was about five of the clock and the gorgeous chamber was full of sunshine. the countess sat by the window teasing a crimson and green macaw that swung in an ebony ring; she wore a black and white striped dress and a muslin fichu edged with glittering silver ribbon.

she did not rise to greet him.

“good afternoon, captain lyndwood,” she said, and continued to busy herself with the parrot; he hesitated a moment, then crossed the room to kiss her hand, still she did not look at him.

“my lord is abroad?” he asked.

the countess lifted her shoulders.

“i suppose so.”

then she regarded him, covertly.

“you go to paris, captain lyndwood?”

“i have not yet taken my resolution, madam.”

she smiled and rose.

“you came to see my husband?”

“yes, madam.”

the countess moved towards the mantelpiece.

“do you love your brother, sir?” she asked abruptly, and fixed her powerful dark eyes on him.

marius lyndwood made an effort to meet her on her own ground.

“what is your meaning in that question, madam?”

“this meaning,” she answered, “that i do not think you know him——”

“my lord has ever done his duty by me,” said marius.

“there is the point,” cried the countess. “you do not guess how he has behaved to me.”

“i cannot listen to this, madam,” he interrupted in an agitated voice, but she would not be stopped.

“it is not long ago that you were kissing my shadow, marius—are we now such strangers that i must conceal from you that my life is utter misery?”

“indeed it can be no matter of mine,” he answered, very pale.

the countess clasped the edge of the chimney-piece.

“it is very much a matter of yours. my lord, ye say, does his duty by you; but what of me? do you dare to have no pity? the money that gave you your career was the price of my degradation——”

“enough of that,” he exclaimed. “i have had very little from the earl, and mean now to be free of him altogether.”

“but i,” she said, “can never be free.”

she was silent a second, then added with a quiet force:

“did you know him as i have to know him you would hate him”—her voice sank—“even as i do.”

marius lyndwood shuddered.

“i must not hear this.”

“you shall hear this. his bargain with my father cannot save him, my fortune has gone like sand through his fingers, and your noble house will come very surely to utter ruin.”

“you speak as if i were to blame,” said marius sombrely. “i am not my lord’s monitor; what would you have me do? i have not been over contented or very much at ease this last year.”

he was angry with his brother though he would not admit so much, even to himself; he half disdained the countess, but felt that truth and justice were on her side—he was attracted by her and repelled and troubled by her presence beyond the power of speech.

“well,” she spoke more quietly. “you will go abroad again, and i am sorry, for it will leave me more utterly lonely; well, well.”

marius moved silently to the window with a heavy step and looked out on the flat houses, the dusty sunshine, the barren blue sky.

he turned again at a slight exclamation from the countess.

rose lyndwood had entered; he wore riding boots, and was wrapped in a pale pink mantle; he carried his white gauntlets and a short whip; he looked at his brother and an indescribable chill fell between them.

marius bowed formally.

“good even,” said the earl, and glanced at his wife; “it is unusual to find you at home at this hour, madam; marius was fortunate.”

“i met him yesterday in your mother’s house, my lord, and heard of his intent to come here today; therefore i am at home.”

with that she swept a curtsey and left them alone, save for that nameless discontent and coldness breathing like another presence between them.

“the countess is seldom at my mother’s house,” said rose, as the door closed on her; “strange you should have met there.”

marius did not answer; the level beams of the sun just sinking behind the houses on the other side of the square struck brilliantly on his bright uniform and flushed face.

“you have decided to go to paris?” asked my lord.

“no,” answered marius in a constrained way, “i have decided to remain in london, sir.”

“i think you are wrong,” said the earl. “there are few chances in london; but it is for you to choose your own way.”

he seated himself on the couch, and marius looked at him earnestly; my lord glanced up and their eyes met.

“do you wish an appointment about the court?” asked the earl; his handsome eyes were weary and his face pallid in contrast with his bright unpowdered hair. marius could not understand what had happened to make them such strangers, nor how in a year they could have drifted so far apart; a sensation of utter depression came over him.

“what is the matter with you, marius?” asked rose lyndwood with a slight note of challenge in his voice.

his brother gazed out into the grey street from which the sun had disappeared.

“i do not wish to hang about the court, my lord.”

the earl observed him sharply.

“what do you propose to do?”

marius kept his face averted.

“i wish to go somewhere, to be quartered in some country town, where i can live on my pay,” he answered reservedly.

“by gad!” said my lord softly. “what whim is this?”

marius turned swiftly.

“isn’t it an honest wish, my lord? isn’t it an honest wish to desire to take no more money from you?”

“are we discussing honesty?” smiled the earl. “you are in a strange mood, marius.”

the young soldier coloured, gloom overcame him again.

“your lordship and i will never understand each other,” he said hopelessly.

“why not?” asked his brother kindly.

“i do not know.” marius spoke in a constrained way. “i suppose that we are in such different positions—of such different natures.”

my lord gave his charming laugh.

“you go too deep for me, marius; say what you wish and i will endeavour to comprehend it.”

but marius lyndwood was silent.

“what is this between you and me?” continued the earl lightly. “you have a look of judgment as one who would say, ‘faith, i am ashamed of this brother of mine.’”

“i do not like this life,” answered marius gloomily. “nothing is as i thought it would be-matters seem very worthless.”

rose lyndwood laughed.

“your malady is plain, my dear: you are too young and too serious; a season in london will cure you.”

marius moved from the window.

“i might have known that you would sneer at me,” he said, holding his head haughtily, “but scoff as you will, my lord, i have no zest for these follies that please you.”

my lord laughed again; there was no change in his handsome face; under his air of lightness a melancholy indifference seemed habitual.

“my follies are my own affair, are they not?” he asked carelessly.

“i do not know,” answered marius, “but it seems to me ’tis an ignoble business, as you have handled it.”

“as i have handled it?” questioned the earl.

“you will reprove me for my impertinence if i speak further,” said marius, “and you are the head of the house; yet perhaps those few years between us do not rob me of the right to say that your courses go far to dishonour us.”

“oh, marius!” cried his brother, smiling, “thou art become a sad virtuous fellow; concern not thyself with me, thine own good qualities will save the name of lyndwood.”

“’tis a thing not wholly in my keeping,” replied marius, kindling at the other’s manner. “you are the elder—well, no more, but i will none of your money, my lord, and none of your influence to push me into some idle place at court.”

rose lyndwood loosened the pink mantle from his throat.

“you are a pragmatical fellow,” he said calmly; “and must even do as you please. i shall expect to see you again when you are tired of virtue on a hundred a year.”

“i do not put such a high value upon money,” answered marius hotly.

“maybe,” said my lord lazily; “but you have not yet tried to do without it.” he rose suddenly. “i’ god’s name, marius, let us have done with this prating; we each mean the same thing, i doubt not; why should we be discontented with one another? stay in london and make the best of it; do what others do, ’tis the surest wisdom.”

“what others do!” repeated his brother with quickened breath; “marry an heiress and gamble myself and her to ruin, take some woman for her fortune and make her life unendurable with my disdain while i spend her money on sordid pleasures; buy myself into a corrupt ministry and fatten on the proceeds of court intrigues. i have not the temper for these things, my lord.”

the earl laid his gloves and whip on the couch from which he had risen; he looked steadily at marius.

“i shall begin to think that you came here to insult me,” he said. “now why, i wonder.”

“i tell you that my way is not your way, my lord.”

“you tell me more than that,” answered rose lyndwood. “and i discern who has been prompting you.”

at this allusion to the countess, marius flushed.

“i need no promptings to perceive the way you live, my lord, nor can i shut my ears to what i hear of your senseless extravagance.”

the earl interrupted.

“oh, she gave me a rake-helly reputation, i doubt not—spare the repetition, and understand i’ll have no more of it.”

“no more of what, sir?”

lord lyndwood moved towards him.

“no more of these discussions with my lady—either in my house or out of it—she needs no champions.”

“i cannot speak of this with you,” answered marius hotly. “all has gone amiss.”

“have done with this philosophy,” interrupted my lord with darkening eyes, “and do not seek to play the monitor with my affairs—i’ll not take it, marius.”

“there are things i will not take, my lord. i am at liberty to see what all the town sees, and to say what all the town says.”

“not to my face,” said the earl, “nor yet to my wife.”

“leave the countess out of it, my lord—even if she should show her unhappiness; she has given no bond to be dumb as well as patient.”

my lord unclasped his cloak and flung it over a chair.

“you are a fool, marius,” he said haughtily; “but you must keep your folly to yourself, nor become my lady’s puppet defender; her unhappiness, and her patience, and her dumbness are not matters of yours.”

“in a manner they are matters of mine,” answered the other with a kind of fierce heaviness. “i have been to blame—we, both of us, have wronged her.”

“this is intolerable!” cried my lord. “by gad, you will anger me.”

“and yet i only speak the truth.”

“you speak dangerous foolishness.”

“my lord, i speak the truth, and ye know it.”

“truth or no,” said the earl, “’tis what i will not listen to.”

“on that we part, my lord.”

rose lyndwood smiled and raised his shoulders scornfully.

“i’ faith we cannot argue, marius.”

“then, as i say, we part.”

“why, you must go your way.”

marius stepped aside and looked away, the room began to be full of creeping shadows; it was not easy for either, even with close scrutiny, to catch the changing expression of the other’s face.

“it is curious,” said the earl, “that we should have parted understanding each other on this matter, and now we meet with this discontent between us. i perceive that what is on your mind refers to the same—the question, my lady’s money—it is not one we can discuss.”

marius interrupted.

“i think i know what you would say, my lord: that for my sake, and for the sake of my lady mother, you made this match.”

“nay, you would never hear that from me,” rejoined rose lyndwood.

“but it crossed your mind—it is in susannah’s mind,” said marius gloomily and fiercely; “and it is not true; at first i thought it so, but it was not. mr. hilton’s money was not bought for us but for yourself, to save yourself from ruin; you married his daughter for no noble consideration but to give you the means to continue this life of a man of fashion; as she said, you wanted the money.”

“do you speak to provoke me?” asked my lord breathlessly.

“i think i speak to make it all clear to myself,” answered marius slowly. “it sounds so mean put into words and so clear—there was no other way out for you save this marriage—it was not in you even to desire other than this life you led, and so you married your lady; she was forced into it and you allowed her to be forced.”

rose lyndwood laughed, suddenly and unrestrainedly.

“my lady has made a rare convert!” he cried. “it is amusing to see you learning virtue at the countess lavinia’s feet. i wonder what else she will teach you besides hate of me.”

he picked up his cloak; there was a gleam of the pale pink colour as he flung it about him in the shadows.

“i am due at the st. james’s coffee-house,” he said. “will you accompany me?”

“is that how you dismiss it?” asked marius unsteadily.

the earl made a light gesture with his fine hand.

“what is there to dismiss? are you coming with me?”

“no.” marius paused a moment, then added, “i take my leave; good-night, my lord.”

they could no longer distinguish the other’s face.

“good even,” said the earl, and turned his back to gather up his gloves.

marius, miserable, angry, hot at heart, turned from the room and closed the door fiercely after him.

there was a dim light in the hall and she was there, crouching against the panelling.

even as he saw her the knowledge that she had been listening stabbed into his blood.

“madam!” he said below his breath.

“well?” she whispered defiantly. she had her teeth in her handkerchief, and was tearing it to rags; her thin cheeks were flushed carmine, her eyes excitedly bright. “i heard what passed; what do you think of him now?”

“i am sorry for you,” he answered in a shamed voice, “that you—should—do this.”

the countess laid her hand on his sleeve.

“ah! you spoke for me!” she said exultingly. “and i could kiss your feet for it; but, hush!——”

“he comes,” interrupted marius in an agony. “shall he find us whispering behind his doors?”

she drew back.

“come to grafton’s mask,” she replied. “i will send you a note of my dress.”

she turned swiftly and in a light noiselessness sped up the wide quiet stairs.

marius stood still beneath the gentle glow of the silver lamp; so she took him for her champion—she bound him to her service—it had come to notes and appointments.

he grasped the handle of the door that concealed his brother; it was in his mind to return to him.

and say—what?

the red mounted to his cheeks, his brow; it was not so long ago since he had adored her, and she had been unfairly treated. rose had laughed; what would rose care?

he took up his hat and left the house. as he turned into the street he felt the evening air cold on his face, and looking up beheld a solitary star above the dark houses of panton square.

he thought of the countess with pain and misgiving, and his young face was stormy, but she did not wholly occupy his mind; like a pleasant odour pervading everything was the remembrance of susannah chressham waiting his return in the soft-hued room in the haymarket; he dwelt on the image of her and found it the image of gentleness and joy, soothing to consider.

he hastened his steps homewards, nor did it occur to him to look back at his brother’s house, where the countess leant from an upper window with the keen wind dishevelling her hair and watched him eagerly out of sight.