CHAPTER XLIII
IN WHICH SIR WILLOUGHBY IS LED TO THINK THAT THE ELEMENTS HAVECONSPIRED AGAINST HIM
Clara had not taken many steps in the garden before she learned howgreat was her debt of gratitude to Colonel De Craye. Willoughby andher father were awaiting her. De Craye, with his ready comprehension ofcircumstances, turned aside unseen among the shrubs. She advancedslowly.
"The vapours, we may trust, have dispersed?" her father hailed her.
"One word, and these discussions are over, we dislike them equally,"said Willoughby.
"No scenes," Dr. Middleton added. "Speak your decision, my girl, proforma, seeing that he who has the right demands it, and pray releaseme."
Clara looked at Willoughby.
"I have decided to go to Miss Dale for her advice."
There was no appearance in him of a man that has been shot.
"To Miss Dale?--for advice?"
Dr Middleton invoked the Furies. "What is the signification of this newfreak?"
"Miss Dale must be consulted, papa."
"Consulted with reference to the disposal of your hand in marriage?"
"She must be."
"Miss Dale, do you say?"
"I do, Papa."
Dr Middleton regained his natural elevation from the bend of bodyhabitual with men of an established sanity, paedagogues and others, whoare called on at odd intervals to inspect the magnitude of theinfinitesimally absurd in human nature: small, that is, under the lightof reason, immense in the realms of madness.
His daughter profoundly confused him. He swelled out his chest,remarking to Willoughby: "I do not wonder at your scared expression ofcountenance, my friend. To discover yourself engaged to a girl mad asCassandra, without a boast of the distinction of her being sun-struck,can be no specially comfortable enlightenment. I am opposed to delays,and I will not have a breach of faith committed by daughter of mine."
"Do not repeat those words," Clara said to Willoughby. He started. Shehad evidently come armed. But how, within so short a space? What couldhave instructed her? And in his bewilderment he gazed hurriedly above,gulped air, and cried: "Scared, sir? I am not aware that my countenancecan show a scare. I am not accustomed to sue for long: I am unable tosustain the part of humble supplicant. She puts me out of harmony withcreation--We are plighted, Clara. It is pure waste of time to speak ofsoliciting advice on the subject."
"Would it be a breach of faith for me to break my engagement?" shesaid.
"You ask?"
"It is a breach of sanity to propound the interrogation," said herfather.
She looked at Willoughby. "Now?"
He shrugged haughtily.
"Since last night?" she said.
"Last night?"
"Am I not released?"
"Not by me."
"By your act."
"My dear Clara!"
"Have you not virtually disengaged me?"
"I who claim you as mine?"
"Can you?"
"I do and must."
"After last night?"
"Tricks! shufflings! jabber of a barbarian woman upon the evolutions ofa serpent!" exclaimed Dr. Middleton. "You were to capitulate, or tofurnish reasons for your refusal. You have none. Give him your hand,girl, according to the compact. I praised you to him for returningwithin the allotted term, and now forbear to disgrace yourself and me."
"Is he perfectly free to offer his? Ask him, papa."
"Perform your duty. Do let us have peace!"
"Perfectly free! as on the day when I offered it first." Willoughbyfrankly waved his honourable hand.
His face was blanched: enemies in the air seemed to have whisperedthings to her: he doubted the fidelity of the Powers above.
"Since last night?" said she.
"Oh! if you insist, I reply, since last night."
"You know what I mean, Sir Willoughby."
"Oh! certainly."
"You speak the truth?"
"'Sir Willoughby!'" her father ejaculated in wrath. "But will youexplain what you mean, epitome that you are of all the contradictionsand mutabilities ascribed to women from the beginning! 'Certainly', hesays, and knows no more than I. She begs grace for an hour, and returnswith a fresh store of evasions, to insult the man she has injured. Itis my humiliation to confess that our share in this contract is rescuedfrom public ignominy by his generosity. Nor can I congratulate him onhis fortune, should he condescend to bear with you to the utmost; forinstead of the young woman I supposed myself to be bestowing on him, Isee a fantastical planguncula enlivened by the wanton tempers of anursery chit. If one may conceive a meaning in her, in miserableapology for such behaviour, some spirit of jealousy informs the girl."
"I can only remark that there is no foundation for it," saidWilloughby. "I am willing to satisfy you, Clara. Name the person whodiscomposes you. I can scarcely imagine one to exist: but who cantell?"
She could name no person. The detestable imputation of jealousy wouldbe confirmed if she mentioned a name: and indeed Laetitia was not to benamed.
He pursued his advantage: "Jealousy is one of the fits I am a strangerto,--I fancy, sir, that gentlemen have dismissed it. I speak formyself.--But I can make allowances. In some cases, it is considered acompliment; and often a word will soothe it. The whole affair is sosenseless! However, I will enter the witness-box, or stand at theprisoner's bar! Anything to quiet a distempered mind."
"Of you, sir," said Dr. Middleton, "might a parent be justly proud."
"It is not jealousy; I could not be jealous!" Clara cried, stung by thevery passion; and she ran through her brain for a suggestion to win asign of meltingness if not esteem from her father. She was not an ironmaiden, but one among the nervous natures which live largely in themoment, though she was then sacrificing it to her nature's deepdislike. "You may be proud of me again, papa."
She could hardly have uttered anything more impolitic.
"Optume; but deliver yourself ad rem," he rejoined, alarminglypacified. "Firmavit fidem. Do you likewise, and double on us no morelike puss in the field."
"I wish to see Miss Dale," she said.
Up flew the Rev. Doctor's arms in wrathful despair resembling animprecation.
"She is at the cottage. You could have seen her," said Willoughby.
Evidently she had not.
"Is it untrue that last night, between twelve o'clock and one, in thedrawing-room, you proposed marriage to Miss Dale?" He became convincedthat she must have stolen down-stairs during his colloquy withLaetitia, and listened at the door.
"On behalf of old Vernon?" he said, lightly laughing. "The idea is notnovel, as you know. They are suited, if they could see it.--LaetitiaDale and my cousin Vernon Whitford, sir."
"Fairly schemed, my friend, and I will say for you, you have thepatience, Willoughby, of a husband!"
Willoughby bowed to the encomium, and allowed some fatigue to bevisible. He half yawned: "I claim no happier title, sir," and madelight of the weariful discussion.
Clara was shaken: she feared that Crossjay had heard incorrectly, orthat Colonel De Craye had guessed erroneously. It was too likely thatWilloughby should have proposed Vernon to Laetitia.
There was nothing to reassure her save the vision of the panicamazement of his face at her persistency in speaking of Miss Dale. Shecould have declared on oath that she was right, while admitting all thesuppositions to be against her. And unhappily all the Delicacies (adoughty battalion for the defence of ladies until they enter intodifficulties and are shorn of them at a blow, bare as dairymaids), allthe body-guard of a young gentlewoman, the drawing-room sylphides,which bear her train, which wreathe her hair, which modulate her voiceand tone her complexion, which are arrows and shield to awe thecreature man, forbade her utterance of what she felt, on pain ofinstant fulfilment of their oft-repeated threat of late to leave her tothe last remnant of a protecting sprite. She could not, as in a dearmelodrama, from the aim of a pointed finger denounce him, on thetestimony of her instincts, false of
speech, false in deed. She couldnot even declare that she doubted his truthfulness. The refuge of asullen fit, the refuge of tears, the pretext of a mood, were denied hernow by the rigour of those laws of decency which are a garment toladies of pure breeding.
"One more respite, papa," she implored him, bitterly conscious of thecloser tangle her petition involved, and, if it must be betrayed ofher, perceiving in an illumination how the knot might become sowoefully Gordian that haply in a cloud of wild events the interventionof a gallant gentleman out of heaven, albeit in the likeness of one ofearth, would have to cut it: her cry within, as she succumbed toweakness, being fervider, "Anything but marry this one!" She was faintwith strife and dejected, a condition in the young when theirimaginative energies hold revel uncontrolled and are projectivelydesperate.
"No respite!" said Willoughby, genially.
"And I say, no respite!" observed her father. "You have assumed aposition that has not been granted you, Clara Middleton."
"I cannot bear to offend you, father."
"Him! Your duty is not to offend him. Address your excuses to him. Irefuse to be dragged over the same ground, to reiterate the samecommand perpetually."
"If authority is deputed to me, I claim you," said Willoughby.
"You have not broken faith with me?"
"Assuredly not, or would it be possible for me to press my claim?"
"And join the right hand to the right," said Dr. Middleton; "no, itwould not be possible. What insane root she has been nibbling, I knownot, but she must consign herself to the guidance of those whom thegods have not abandoned, until her intellect is liberated. She was once. . . there: I look not back--if she it was, and no simulacrum of areasonable daughter. I welcome the appearance of my friend Mr.Whitford. He is my sea-bath and supper on the beach of Troy, after theday's battle and dust."
Vernon walked straight up to them: an act unusual with him, for he wasshy of committing an intrusion.
Clara guessed by that, and more by the dancing frown of speculativehumour he turned on Willoughby, that he had come charged in support ofher. His forehead was curiously lively, as of one who has got asurprise well under, to feed on its amusing contents.
"Have you seen Crossjay, Mr. Whitford?" she said.
"I've pounced on Crossjay; his bones are sound."
"Where did he sleep?"
"On a sofa, it seems."
She smiled, with good hope--Vernon had the story.
Willoughby thought it just to himself that he should defend his measureof severity.
"The boy lied; he played a double game."
"For which he should have been reasoned with at the Grecian portico ofa boy," said the Rev. Doctor.
"My system is different, sir. I could not inflict what I would notendure myself"
"So is Greek excluded from the later generations; and you leave afield, the most fertile in the moralities in youth, unplowed andunsown. Ah! well. This growing too fine is our way of relapsing uponbarbarism. Beware of over-sensitiveness, where nature has plainlyindicated her alternative gateway of knowledge. And now, I presume, Iam at liberty."
"Vernon will excuse us for a minute or two."
"I hold by Mr. Whitford now I have him."
"I'll join you in the laboratory, Vernon," Willoughby nodded bluntly.
"We will leave them, Mr. Whitford. They are at the time-honoureddissension upon a particular day, that, for the sake of dignity,blushes to be named."
"What day?" said Vernon, like a rustic.
"THE day, these people call it."
Vernon sent one of his vivid eyeshots from one to the other. His eyesfixed on Willoughby's with a quivering glow, beyond amazement, as ifhis humour stood at furnace-heat, and absorbed all that came.
Willoughby motioned to him to go.
"Have you seen Miss Dale, Mr. Whitford?" said Clara.
He answered, "No. Something has shocked her."
"Is it her feeling for Crossjay?"
"Ah!" Vernon said to Willoughby, "your pocketing of the key ofCrossjay's bedroom door was a master-stroke!"
The celestial irony suffused her, and she bathed and swam in it, onhearing its dupe reply: "My methods of discipline are short. I was notaware that she had been to his door."
"But I may hope that Miss Dale will see me," said Clara. "We are insympathy about the boy."
"Mr. Dale might be seen. He seems to be of a divided mind with hisdaughter," Vernon rejoined. "She has locked herself up in her room."
"He is not the only father in that unwholesome predicament," said DrMiddleton.
"He talks of coming to you, Willoughby."
"Why to me?" Willoughby chastened his irritation: "He will be welcome,of course. It would be better that the boy should come."
"If there is a chance of your forgiving him," said Clara. "Let theDales know I am prepared to listen to the boy, Vernon. There can be nonecessity for Mr. Dale to drag himself here."
"How are Mr. Dale and his daughter of a divided mind, Mr. Whitford?"said Clara.
Vernon simulated an uneasiness. With a vacant gaze that enlarged aroundWilloughby and was more discomforting than intentness, he replied:"Perhaps she is unwilling to give him her entire confidence, MissMiddleton."
"In which respect, then, our situations present their solitary point ofunlikeness in resemblance, for I have it in excess," observed Dr.Middleton.
Clara dropped her eyelids for the wave to pass over. "It struck me thatMiss Dale was a person of the extremest candour."
"Why should we be prying into the domestic affairs of the Dales?"Willoughby interjected, and drew out his watch, merely for a diversion;he was on tiptoe to learn whether Vernon was as well instructed asClara, and hung to the view that he could not be, while drenching inthe sensation that he was:--and if so, what were the Powers above but abody of conspirators? He paid Laetitia that compliment. He could notconceive the human betrayal of the secret. Clara's discovery of it hadset his common sense adrift.
"The domestic affairs of the Dales do not concern me," said Vernon.
"And yet, my friend," Dr. Middleton balanced himself, and with an airof benevolent slyness the import of which did not awaken Willoughby,until too late, remarked: "They might concern you. I will even add,that there is a probability of your being not less than the fount andorigin of this division of father and daughter, though Willoughby inthe drawingroom last night stands accusably the agent."
"Favour me, sir, with an explanation," said Vernon, seeking to gatherit from Clara.
Dr Middleton threw the explanation upon Willoughby.
Clara, communicated as much as she was able in one of those looks ofstill depth which say, Think! and without causing a thought to stir,takes us into the pellucid mind.
Vernon was enlightened before Willoughby had spoken. His mouth shutrigidly, and there was a springing increase of the luminous wavering ofhis eyes. Some star that Clara had watched at night was like them inthe vivid wink and overflow of its light. Yet, as he was perfectlysedate, none could have suspected his blood to be chasing wild withlaughter, and his frame strung to the utmost to keep it from volleying.So happy was she in his aspect, that her chief anxiety was to recoverthe name of the star whose shining beckons and speaks, and is in thequick of spirit-fire. It is the sole star which on a night of frost andstrong moonlight preserves an indomitable fervency: that sheremembered, and the picture of a hoar earth and a lean Orion in floodedheavens, and the star beneath Eastward of him: but the name! thename!--She heard Willoughby indistinctly.
"Oh, the old story; another effort; you know my wish; a failure, ofcourse, and no thanks on either side, I suppose I must ask yourexcuse.--They neither of them see what's good for them, sir."
"Manifestly, however," said Dr. Middleton, "if one may opine from thedivision we have heard of, the father is disposed to back yournominee."
"I can't say; as far as I am concerned, I made a mess of it." Vernonwithstood the incitement to acquiesce, but he sparkled with hisrecognition of the fact.
"You meant well, Willoughby."
"I hope so, Vernon."
"Only you have driven her away."
"We must resign ourselves."
"It won't affect me, for I'm off to-morrow."
"You see, sir, the thanks I get."
"Mr. Whitford," said Dr. Middleton, "You have a tower of strength inthe lady's father."
"Would you have me bring it to bear upon the lady, sir?"
"Wherefore not?"
"To make her marriage a matter of obedience to her father?"
"Ay, my friend, a lusty lover would have her gladly on those terms,well knowing it to be for the lady's good. What do you say,Willoughby?"
"Sir! Say? What can I say? Miss Dale has not plighted her faith. Hadshe done so, she is a lady who would never dishonour it."
"She is an ideal of constancy, who would keep to it though it had beenbroken on the other side," said Vernon, and Clara thrilled.
"I take that, sir, to be a statue of constancy, modelled upon which alady of our flesh may be proclaimed as graduating for the condition ofidiocy," said Dr. Middleton.
"But faith is faith, sir."
"But the broken is the broken, sir, whether in porcelain or in humanengagements; and all that one of the two continuing faithful, I shouldrather say, regretful, can do, is to devote the remainder of life tothe picking up of the fragments; an occupation properly to be pursued,for the comfort of mankind, within the enclosure of an appointedasylum."
"You destroy the poetry of sentiment, Dr. Middleton."
"To invigorate the poetry of nature, Mr. Whitford."
"Then you maintain, sir, that when faith is broken by one, theengagement ceases, and the other is absolutely free?"
"I do; I am the champion of that platitude, and sound that knell to thesentimental world; and since you have chosen to defend it, I willappeal to Willoughby, and ask him if he would not side with the worldof good sense in applauding the nuptials of man or maid married withina month of a jilting?" Clara slipped her arm under her father's.
"Poetry, sir," said Willoughby, "I never have been hypocrite enough topretend to understand or care for."
Dr. Middleton laughed. Vernon too seemed to admire his cousin for areply that rung in Clara's ears as the dullest ever spoken. Her armgrew cold on her father's. She began to fear Willoughby again.
He depended entirely on his agility to elude the thrusts that assailedhim. Had he been able to believe in the treachery of the Powers above,he would at once have seen design in these deadly strokes, for hisfeelings had rarely been more acute than at the present crisis; and hewould then have led away Clara, to wrangle it out with her, relying onVernon's friendliness not to betray him to her father: but a wranglewith Clara promised no immediate fruits, nothing agreeable; and thelifelong trust he had reposed in his protecting genii obscured hisintelligence to evidence he would otherwise have accepted on the spot,on the faith of his delicate susceptibility to the mildest impressionswhich wounded him. Clara might have stooped to listen at the door: shemight have heard sufficient to create a suspicion. But Vernon was notin the house last night; she could not have communicated it to him, andhe had not seen Laetitia, who was, besides trustworthy, an admirable ifa foolish and ill-fated woman.
Preferring to consider Vernon a pragmatical moralist played upon by asententious drone, he thought it politic to detach them, and vanquishClara while she was in the beaten mood, as she had appeared beforeVernon's vexatious arrival.
"I'm afraid, my dear fellow, you are rather too dainty and fussy for avery successful wooer," he said. "It's beautiful on paper, and absurdin life. We have a bit of private business to discuss. We will goinside, sir, I think. I will soon release you." Clara pressed herfather's arm.
"More?" said he.
"Five minutes. There's a slight delusion to clear, sir. My dear Clara,you will see with different eyes."
"Papa wishes to work with Mr. Whitford."
Her heart sunk to hear her father say: "No, 'tis a lost morning. I mustconsent to pay tax of it for giving another young woman to the world. Ihave a daughter! You will, I hope, compensate me, Mr. Whitford, in theafternoon. Be not downcast. I have observed you meditative of late. Youwill have no clear brain so long as that stuff is on the mind. I couldventure to propose to do some pleading for you, should it be needed forthe prompter expedition of the affair."
Vernon briefly thanked him, and said:
"Willoughby has exerted all his eloquence, and you see the result: youhave lost Miss Dale and I have not won her. He did everything that oneman can do for another in so delicate a case: even to the repeating ofher famous birthday verses to him, to flatter the poetess. His bestefforts were foiled by the lady's indisposition for me."
"Behold," said Dr. Middleton, as Willoughby, electrified by the mentionof the verses, took a sharp stride or two, "you have in him an advocatewho will not be rebuffed by one refusal, and I can affirm that he istenacious, pertinacious as are few. Justly so. Not to believe in alady's No is the approved method of carrying that fortress built toyield. Although unquestionably to have a young man pleading in ourinterests with a lady, counts its objections. Yet Willoughby beingnotoriously engaged, may be held to enjoy the privileges of hiselders."
"As an engaged man, sir, he was on a level with his elders in pleadingon my behalf with Miss Dale," said Vernon. Willoughby strode andmuttered. Providence had grown mythical in his thoughts, if notmalicious: and it is the peril of this worship that the object willwear such an alternative aspect when it appears no longer subservient.
"Are we coming, sir?" he said, and was unheeded. The Rev. Doctor wouldnot be defrauded of rolling his billow.
"As an honourable gentleman faithful to his own engagement and desirousof establishing his relatives, he deserves, in my judgement, the lady'sesteem as well as your cordial thanks; nor should a temporary failuredishearten either of you, notwithstanding the precipitate retreat ofthe lady from Patterne, and her seclusion in her sanctum on theoccasion of your recent visit."
"Supposing he had succeeded," said Vernon, driving Willoughby tofrenzy, "should I have been bound to marry?" Matter for cogitation wasoffered to Dr. Middleton.
"The proposal was without your sanction?"
"Entirely."
"You admire the lady?"
"Respectfully."
"You do not incline to the state?"
"An inch of an angle would exaggerate my inclination."
"How long are we to stand and hear this insufferable nonsense youtalk?" cried Willoughby.
"But if Mr. Whitford was not consulted . . ." Dr. Middleton said, andwas overborne by Willoughby's hurried, "Oblige me, sir.--Oblige me, mygood fellow!" He swept his arm to Vernon, and gestured a conductinghand to Clara.
"Here is Mrs. Mountstuart!" she exclaimed.
Willoughby stared. Was it an irruption of a friend or a foe? Hedoubted, and stood petrified between the double question. Clara hadseen Mrs. Mountstuart and Colonel De Craye separating: and now thegreat lady sailed along the sward like a royal barge in festival trim.
She looked friendly, but friendly to everybody, which was always afrost on Willoughby, and terribly friendly to Clara.
Coming up to her she whispered: "News, indeed! Wonderful! I could notcredit his hint of it yesterday. Are you satisfied?"
"Pray, Mrs. Mountstuart, take an opportunity to speak to papa," Clarawhispered in return.
Mrs. Mountstuart bowed to Dr. Middleton, nodded to Vernon, and swamupon Willoughby, with, "Is it? But is it? Am I really to believe? Youhave? My dear Sir Willoughby? Really?" The confounded gentleman heavedon a bare plank of wreck in mid sea.
He could oppose only a paralyzed smile to the assault.
His intuitive discretion taught him to fall back a step while she said,"So!" the plummet word of our mysterious deep fathoms; and he fell backfurther saying, "Madam?" in a tone advising her to speak low.
She recovered her volubility, followed his partial retreat, and droppedher voice,--
"Impossib
le to have imagined it as an actual fact! You were always fullof surprises, but this! this! Nothing manlier, nothing more gentlemanlyhas ever been done: nothing: nothing that so completely changes anuntenable situation into a comfortable and proper footing foreverybody. It is what I like: it is what I love:--sound sense! Men areso selfish: one cannot persuade them to be reasonable in suchpositions. But you, Sir Willoughby, have shown wisdom and sentiment:the rarest of all combinations in men."
"Where have you? . . ." Willoughby contrived to say.
"Heard? The hedges, the housetops, everywhere. All the neighbourhoodwill have it before nightfall. Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer will soon berushing here, and declaring they never expected anything else, I do notdoubt. I am not so pretentious. I beg your excuse for that 'twice' ofmine yesterday. Even if it hurt my vanity, I should be happy to confessmy error: I was utterly out. But then I did not reckon on a fatalattachment, I thought men were incapable of it. I thought we women werethe only poor creatures persecuted by a fatality. It is a fatality! Youtried hard to escape, indeed you did. And she will do honour to yourfinal surrender, my dear friend. She is gentle, and very clever, very:she is devoted to you: she will entertain excellently. I see her like aflower in sunshine. She will expand to a perfect hostess. Patterne willshine under her reign; you have my warrant for that. And so will you.Yes, you flourish best when adored. It must be adoration. You have beenunder a cloud of late. Years ago I said it was a match, when no onesupposed you could stoop. Lady Busshe would have it was a screen, andshe was deemed high wisdom. The world will be with you. All the womenwill be: excepting, of course, Lady Busshe, whose pride is in prophecy;and she will soon be too glad to swell the host. There, my friend, yoursincerest and oldest admirer congratulates you. I could not containmyself; I was compelled to pour forth. And now I must go and be talkedto by Dr. Middleton. How does he take it? They leave?"
"He is perfectly well," said Willoughby, aloud, quite distraught.
She acknowledged his just correction of her for running on to anextreme in low-toned converse, though they stood sufficiently isolatedfrom the others. These had by this time been joined by Colonel DeCraye, and were all chatting in a group--of himself, Willoughbyhorribly suspected.
Clara was gone from him! Gone! but he remembered his oath and vowed itagain: not to Horace de Craye! She was gone, lost, sunk into the worldof waters of rival men, and he determined that his whole force shouldbe used to keep her from that man, the false friend who had supplantedhim in her shallow heart, and might, if he succeeded, boast of havingdone it by simply appearing on the scene.
Willoughby intercepted Mrs. Mountstuart as she was passing over to DrMiddleton. "My dear lady! spare me a minute."
De Craye sauntered up, with a face of the friendliest humour:
"Never was man like you, Willoughby, for shaking new patterns in akaleidoscope."
"Have you turned punster, Horace?" Willoughby replied, smarting to findyet another in the demon secret, and he draw Dr. Middleton two or threesteps aside, and hurriedly begged him to abstain from prosecuting thesubject with Clara.
"We must try to make her happy as we best can, sir. She may have herreasons--a young lady's reasons!" He laughed, and left the Rev. Doctorconsidering within himself under the arch of his lofty frown ofstupefaction.
De Craye smiled slyly and winningly as he shadowed a deep droop on thebend of his head before Clara, signifying his absolute devotion to herservice, and this present good fruit for witness of his merits.
She smiled sweetly though vaguely. There was no concealment of theirintimacy.
"The battle is over," Vernon said quietly, when Willoughby had walkedsome paces beside Mrs. Mountstuart, adding: "You may expect to see Mr.Dale here. He knows."
Vernon and Clara exchanged one look, hard on his part, in contrast withher softness, and he proceeded to the house. De Craye waited for a wordor a promising look. He was patient, being self-assured, and passed on.
Clara linked her arm with her father's once more, and said, on a suddenbrightness: "Sirius, papa!" He repeated it in the profoundest manner:"Sirius! And is there," he asked, "a feminine scintilla of sense inthat?"
"It is the name of the star I was thinking of, dear papa."
"It was the star observed by King Agamemnon before the sacrifice inAulis. You were thinking of that? But, my love, my Iphigenia, you havenot a father who will insist on sacrificing you."
"Did I hear him tell you to humour me, papa?"
Dr Middleton humphed.
"Verily the dog-star rages in many heads," he responded.