9.

s.».

CASHEL BYRON'S
PROFESSION

Cashel Byron's Profession,
by Bernard Shaw, being
No. 4 of the Novels of his
Nonage. Also The Admir-
able Bash ville, and an Essay
on Modern Prizefighting.

Archibald Constable & Co.
Ltd. London: 1905.

PR
53

C3

Original edition in serial form 1885

Reprinted 1886
First revised edition 1889

Second revised edition with The Admirable Bashville 1901
Reprinted 1905

3$t*s,r.

938078

PREFACE

NOVELS OF MY NONAGE

I NEVER think of Cashel Byron's Profession without a
shudder at the narrowness of my escape from becoming
a successful novelist at the age of twenty-six. At that
moment an adventurous publisher might have ruined me.
Fortunately for me, there were no adventurous publishers
at that time ; and I was forced to fight my way, instead
of being ingloriously bought off at the first brush. Not
that Cashel Byron's Profession was my very first novel.
It was my fourth, and was followed by yet another. I
recall these five remote products of my nonage as five
heavy brown paper parcels which were always coming back
to me from some publisher, and raising the very serious
financial question of the sixpence to be paid to Messrs
Carter, Paterson, and Co., the carriers, for passing them
on to the next publisher. Eventually, Carter, Paterson,
and Co. were the only gainers ; for the publishers had
to pay their readers' fees for nothing but a warning not
to publish me ; and I had to pay the sixpences for sending
my parcels on a bootless errand. At last I grew out of
novel- writing, and set to work to find out what the world
was really like. The result of my investigations, so far,
entirely confirms the observation of Goethe as to the

vi Cashel Byron's Profession

amazement, the incredulity, the moral shock with which
the poet discovers that what he supposed to be the real
world does not exist, and that men and women are made
by their own fancies in the image of the imaginary
creatures in his youthful fictions, only much stupider.

Unfortunately for the immature poet, he has not in
his nonage the satisfaction of knowing that his guesses
at life are true. Bring a peasant into a drawing-room,
and though his good sense may lead him to behave very
properly, yet he will suffer torments of misgiving that
everything he does must be a solecism. In my earlier
excursions into literature I confess I felt like the peasant
in the drawing-room. I was, on the whole, glad to get
out of it. Looking back now with the eyes of experience,
I find that I certainly did make blunders in matters out-
side the scope of poetic divination. To take a very mild
example, I endowed the opulent heroine of this very book
with a park of thirty acres in extent, being then fully
persuaded that this was a reasonable estimate of the size
of the Isle of Wight or thereabouts. But it is not by the
solecisms of ignorance that the young man makes himself
most ridiculous. Far more unnatural than these were
my proprieties and accuracies and intelligences. I did
not know my England then. I was young, raw from
eighteenth century Ireland, modest, and anxious lest my
poverty and provinciality should prevent me from
correctly representing the intelligence, refinement, con-
science, and good breeding which I supposed to be as
natural and common in English society as in Scott's
novels. I actually thought that educated people con-
scientiously learnt their manners and studied their opinions
— were really educated, in short — instead of merely picking
up the habits and prejudices of their set, and confidently
presenting the resultant absurd equipment of class solecisms
to the world as a perfect gentility. Consequently the

Preface vii

only characters which were natural in my novels were the
comic characters, because the island was (and is) populated
exclusively by comic characters. Take them seriously in
fiction, and the result is the Dickens heroine or the Sarah
Grand hero : pathetically unattractive figments both of
them. Thus my imaginary persons of quality became
quite unlike any actual persons at large in England, being
superior to them in a priggish manner which would
nowadays rouse the humor of our younger publishers'
readers very inopportunely. In 1882, however, the
literary fashion which distinguished the virtuous and
serious characters in a novel by a decorous stylishness
and scrupulousness of composition, as if all their speeches
had been corrected by their governesses and schoolmasters,
had not yet been exploded by " the New Journalism " of
1888 and the advent of a host of authors who had
apparently never read anything, catering for a proletariat
newly made literate by the Education Act. The dis-
tinction between the naturalness of Caleb Balderstone
and the artificiality of Edgar and Lucy was still regarded
as one of the social decencies by the seniors of literature ;
and this probably explains the fact that the only in-
timations I received that my work had made some
impression, and had even been hesitatingly condemned,
were from the older and more august houses whose
readers were all grave elderly lovers of literature. And
the more I progressed towards my own individual style
and ventured upon the freeer expression of my own ideas,
the more I disappointed them. As to the regular novel-
publishing houses, whose readers were merely on the
scent of popularity, they gave me no quarter at all. And
so between the old stool of my literary conscientiousness
and the new stool of a view of life that did not reach
publishing-point in England until about ten years later,
when Ibsen drove it in, my novels fell to the ground.

viii Cashel Byron's Profession

I was to find later on that a book is like a child : it is
easier to bring it into the world than to control it when
it is launched there. As long as I kept sending my
novels to the publishers, they were as safe from publicity
as they would have been in the fire, where I had better,
perhaps, have put them. But when I flung them aside as
failures they almost instantly began to shew signs of life.
The Socialist revival of the eighties, into which I
had plunged, produced the usual crop of propagandist
magazines, in the conduct of which payment of the printer
was the main problem, payment of contributors being
quite out of the question. The editor of such a magazine
can never count on a full supply of live matter to make up
his tale of pages. But if he can collect a stock of unread-
able novels, the refuse of the publishing trade, and a stock
of minor poems (the world is full of such trash), an
instalment of serial novel and a few verses will always
make up the magazine to any required size. And this
was how I found a use at last for my brown paper parcels.
It seemed a matter of no more consequence than stuffing
so many broken window-panes with them ; but it had
momentous consequences ; for in this way four of the
five got printed and published in London, and thus
incidentally became the common property of the citizens
of the United States of America. These pioneers did
not at first appreciate their new acquisition ; and nothing
particular happened except that the first novel (No. 5 ;
for I ladled them out to the Socialist magazine editors in
inverse order of composition) made me acquainted with
William Morris, who, to my surprise, had been reading
the monthly instalments with a certain relish. But that
only proved how much easier it is to please a great man
than a little one, especially when you share his politics.
No. 5, called an An Unsocial Socialist, was followed by
No. 4, Cashel Byron's Profession ; and Cashel Byron

Preface ix

would not lie quiet in his serial grave, but presently rose
and walked as a book.

It happened in this way. The name of the magazine
was To-Day, not the present paper of that name, but
one of the many To-Days which are now Yesterdays.
It had several editors, among them Mr Belfort Bax and
the late James Leigh Joynes ; but all the editors were
in partnership with Mr Henry Hyde Champion, who
printed the magazine, and consequently went on for ever,
whilst the others came and went. It was a fantastic
business, Joynes having thrown up an Eton mastership,
and Champion a commission in the army, at the call of
Socialism. But Champion's pugnacity survived his
abdicated adjutancy : he had an unregenerate taste for
pugilism, and liked Cashel Byron so much that he
stereotyped the pages of To-Day which it occupied, and
in spite of my friendly remonstrances, hurled on the
market a misshapen shilling edition. My friend Mr
William Archer reviewed it prominently ; the Saturday
Review, always susceptible in those days to the arts of
self-defence, unexpectedly declared it the novel of the age ;
Mr W. E. Henley wanted to have it dramatized ;
Stevenson wrote a letter about it, of which more presently ;
the other papers hastily searched their waste-paper baskets
for it and reviewed it, mostly rather disappointedly ; and
the public preserved its composure and did not seem to
care.

That shilling edition began with a thousand copies ;
but it proved immortal. I never got anything out of it ;
and Mr. Champion never got anything out of it ; for he
presently settled in Australia, and his printing presses and
stereo plates were dispersed. But from that time forth the
book was never really out of print ; and though Messrs
Walter Scott soon placed a revised shilling edition on the
market, I suspect that still, in some obscure printing

x Cashel Byron's Profession

office, those old plates of Mr Champion's from time to
time produce a "remainder" of the original "Modern
Press " edition, which is to the present what the Quarto
Hamlet is to the Folio.

On the passing of To-Day, I became novelist in
ordinary to a magazine called Our Corner, edited by Mrs
Annie Besant. It had the singular habit of paying for its
contributions, and was, I am afraid, to some extent a
device of Mrs. Besant's for relieving necessitous young
propagandists without wounding their pride by open
almsgiving. She was an incorrigible benefactress, and
probably revenged herself for my freely expressed scorn for
this weakness by drawing on her private account to pay
me for my jejune novels. At last Our Corner went the
way of all propagandist magazines, completing a second
nonage novel and its own career at the same moment.
This left me with only one unprinted masterpiece, my
Opus I, which had cost me an unconscionable quantity of
paper, and was called, with merciless fitness, " Immaturity."
Part of it had by this time been devoured by mice, though
even they had not been able to finish it. To this day it
has never escaped from its old brown paper travelling suit ;
and I only mention it because some of its characters
appear, Trollope fashion, in the later novels. I do not
think any of them got so far as Cashel Byron's
Profession ; but the Mrs. Hoskyn and her guests who
appear in that absurd Chapter VI. are all borrowed from
previous works.

The unimportance of these particulars must be my
apology for detailing them to a world that finds something
romantic in what are called literary struggles. However,
I must most indignantly deny that I ever struggled. I
wrote the books : it was the publishers who struggled
with them, and struggled in vain. The public now takes
up the struggle, impelled, not by any fresh operations of

Preface xi

mine, but by Literary Destiny. For there is a third act
to my tragedy.

Not long ago, when the memory of the brown paper
parcels of 1879-1883 had been buried under twenty years
of work, I learnt from the American papers that the list
of book sales in one of the United States was headed by
a certain novel called An Unsocial Socialist, by Bernard
Shaw. This was unmistakeably Opus 5 of the Novels
of My Nonage. Columbia was beginning to look after
her hitherto neglected acquisition. Apparently the result
was encouraging ; for presently the same publisher pro-
duced a new edition of Cashel Byron's Profession (Opus 4),
in criticising which the more thoughtful reviewers, un-
aware that the publisher was working backwards through
the list, pointed out the marked advance in my style, the
surer grip, the clearer form, the finer art, the maturer
view of the world, and so forth. As it was clearly unfair
that my own American publishers should be debarred by
delicacy towards me from exploiting the new field of
derelict fiction, I begged them to make the most of their
national inheritance ; and with my full approval, Opus 3,
called Love Among the Artists (a paraphrase of the for-
gotten line Love Among the Roses) followed. No doubt
it will pay its way : people who will read An Unsocial
Socialist will read anything. But the new enthusiasm
for Cashel Byron did not stop here. American ladies
were seized with a desire to go on the stage and be Lydia
Carew for two thrilling hours. American actors "saw
themselves" as Cashel. One gentleman has actually
appeared on the New York stage in the part. At the
end of this volume will be found a stage version of my
own ; and I defer further particulars as to Cashel Byron
on the stage until we come to that version. Suffice it to
say here that there can be no doubt now that the novels
so long left for dead in the forlorn-hope magazines of the

xii Cashel Byron's Profession

eighties, have arisen and begun to propagate themselves
vigorously throughout the new world at the rate of a
dollar and a half per copy, free of all royalty to the
flattered author.

Blame not me, then, reader, if these exercises of a raw
apprentice break loose again and insist on their right to
live. The world never did know chalk from cheese in
matters of art ; and, after all, since it is only the young
and the old who have time to read, the rest being too
busy living, my exercises may be fitter for the market
than my masterpieces.

THE MORALS OF PUGILISTIC FICTION

Cashel Byron's Profession is not a very venturesome
republication, because, as I have said, the story has never
been really out of print. But for some years after the
expiration of my agreement with Messrs Walter Scott
I did my best to suppress it, though by that time it had
become the subject of proposals from a new generation of
publishers. The truth is, the preference for this par-
ticular novel annoyed me. In novel-writing there are
two trustworthy dodges for capturing the public. One is
to slaughter a child and pathosticate over its deathbed for
a whole chapter. The other is to describe either a fight-
er a murder. There is a fight in Cashel Byron's Pro-
fession: that profession itself is fighting; and here lay
the whole schoolboy secret of the book's little vogue. I
had the old grievance of the author : people will admire
him for the feats that any fool can achieve, and bear
malice against him for boring them with better work.
Besides, my conscience was not quite easy in the matter.
In spite of all my pains to present the prizefighter and his
pursuits without any romantic glamor (for indeed the
true artistic material of the story is the comedy of the

Preface xiii

contrast between the realities of the ring and the common
romantic glorification or sentimental abhorrence of it),
yet our non-combatant citizens are so fond of setting
other people to fight that the only effect of such descrip-
tions as I have incidentally given of CashePs professional
performances is to make people want to see something of
the sort and take steps accordingly. This tendency of the
book was repugnant to me ; and if prizefighting were a
sleeping dog, I should certainly let it lie, in spite of the
American editions.

Unfortunately the dog is awake, barking and biting
vigorously. Twenty years ago prizefighting was sup-
posed to be dead. Few living men remembered the
palmy days when Tom and Jerry went to Jackson's
rooms (where Byron — not Cashel, but the poet — studied
" the noble art ") to complete their education as Corin-
thians ; when Cribb fought Molyneux and was to Tom
Spring what Skene was to Cashel Byron ; when Kemble
engaged Dutch Sam to carry on the war with the O.P.
rioters ; when Sharpies' portraits of leading bruisers were
engraved on steel ; when Bell's Life was a fashionable
paper, and Pierce Egan's Boxiana a more expensive pub-
lishing enterprise than any modern Badminton volume.
The sport was supposed to have died of its own black-
guardism by the second quarter of the century ; but the
connoisseur who approaches the subject without moral
bias will, I think, agree with me that it must have lived by
its blackguardism and died of its intolerable tediousness ;
for all prizefighters are not Cashel Byrons, and in barren
dreariness and futility no spectacle on earth can contend
with that of two exhausted men trying for hours to tire
one another out at fisticuffs for the sake of their backers.
The Sayers revival in the sixties only left the ring more
discredited than ever, since the injuries formerly reserved
for the combatants began, after their culmination in the

xiv Cashel Byron's Profession

poisoning of Heenan, to be showered on the referee ;
and as the referee was usually the representative of the
Bell's Life type of paper, which naturally organized the
prizefights it lived by reporting, the ring went under
again, this time undoubtedly through its blackguardism
and violence driving away its only capable organizers.

In the eighties many apparently lost causes and
dead enthusiasms unexpectedly revived : Imperialism,
Patriotism, Religion, Socialism, and many other things,
including prizefighting in an aggravated form, and on
a scale of commercial profit and publicity which soon
made its palmy days insignificant and ridiculous by
contrast. A modern American pugilist makes more by
a single defeat than Cribb made by all his victories. It
is this fact that has decided me to give up my attempt to
suppress Cashel Byron's Profession. Silence may be the
right policy on a dropped subject ; but on a burning one
every word that can cool the fervor of idolatry with a
dash of cold fact has its value.

I propose, therefore, to reissue this book with a state-
ment of the truth about the recent development of prize-
fighting as far as I have been able to ascertain it. I
should make this statement here and now if it were a
subject of general interest. But as it is really a technical
one, and would probably bore and even disgust those wha
buy books from love of literature, I transfer it to the end
of the volume, and recommend a perusal and consideration
of it to law -givers, electors, members of watch com-
mittees, Justices of the Peace, Commissioners of Police,
and amateur pugilists who would rather read anything
about boxing than, say, Spenser's Fairy Oueen.

I need not, however, postpone a comment on the vast
propaganda of pugnacity in modern fiction : a propaganda
that must be met, not by shocked silence, but by counter-
propaganda. And this counter-propaganda must not take

Preface xv

the usual form of "painting the horrors." Horror is
fascinating : the great criminal is always a popular hero.
People are seduced by romance because they are ignorant
of reality ; and this is as true of the prize ring as of
the battlefield. The intelligent prizefighter is not a
knight-errant : he is a disillusioned man of business
trying to make money at a certain weight and at certain
risks, not of bodily injury (for a bruise is soon cured),
but of pecuniary loss. When he is a Jew, a negro, a gypsy,
or a recruit from that gypsified, nomadic, poaching,
tinkering, tramping class which exists in all countries,
he differs from the phlegmatic John Bull pugilist (an
almost extinct species) exactly as he would differ from
him in any other occupation : that is, he is a more
imaginative liar, a more obvious poser, a more plausible
talker, a vainer actor, a more reckless gambler, and more
easily persuaded that he is beaten or even killed when
he has only received an unusually hard punch. The
unintelligent prizefighter is often the helpless tool of a
gang of gamblers, backers, and showmen, who set him
on to fight as they might set on a dog. And the
spectacle of a poor human animal fighting faithfully
for his backers, like a terrier killing rats, or a racehorse
doing its best to win a race for its owner, is one which
ought to persuade any sensible person of the folly of
treating the actual combatants as "the principals" in a
prizefight. Cockfighting was not suppressed by im-
prisoning the cocks ; and prizefighting will not be
suppressed by imprisoning the pugilists. But, intelligent
or unintelligent, first rate like Cashel Byron, second rate
like Skene, or third rate like William Paradise in this
story, the prizefighter is no more what the spectators
imagine him to be than the lady with the wand and star
in the pantomime is really a fairy queen. And since
Cashel Byron's Profession, on its prizefighting side, is

xvi Cashel Byron's Profession

an attempt to take the reader behind the scenes without
unfairly confusing professional pugilism with the black-
guardly environment which is no more essential to it than
to professional cricket, and which is now losing its hold
on the pugilist through the substitution of gate-money
at boxing exhibitions for stakes at prizefights as his
means of living, I think I may let it go its way with a
reasonable prospect of seeing it do more good than harm.
It may even help in the Herculean task of eliminating
romantic fisticuffs from English novels, and so clear them
from the reproach of childishness and crudity which they
certainly deserve in this respect. Even in the best nine-
teenth century novels the heroes knock the villains down.
Bulwer Lytton's Kenelm Chillingly was a "scientific"
pugilist, though his technique will hardly be recognized
by experts. Thackeray, who, when defeated in a parlia-
mentary election, publicly compared himself to Gregson
beaten by Gully, loved a fight almost as much as he loved
a fool. Even the great Dickens himself never quite got
away from this sort of schoolboyishness ; for though Jo
Gargery knocking down Orlick is much more plausible
than Oliver Twist punching the head of Noah Claypole,
still the principle is the same : virtue still insists on
victory, domination, and triumphant assault and battery.
It is true that Dombey and Son contains a pious attempt-
to caricature a prizefighter ; but no qualified authority
will pretend that Dickens caught The Chicken's point
of view, or did justice to the social accomplishments of
the ring. Mr. Toots's silly admiration of the poor
boxer, and the manner in which the Chicken and other
professors of the art of self-defence used to sponge on
him, is perfectly true to life ; but in the real pugilistic
world so profitable a gull would soon have been taken
out of the hands of the Chicken and preyed upon by
much better company. It is true that if the Chicken

Preface xvii

had been an unconquerable fighter, he might have
maintained a gloomy eminence in spite of his dulness
and disagreeable manners ; but Dickens gave away this
one possible excuse by allowing The Larky Boy to
defeat the Chicken with ignominy. That is what is
called poetic justice. It is really poetic criminal law 5
and it is almost as dishonest and vindictive as real
criminal law. In plain fact, the pugilistic profession
is like any other profession : common sense, good
manners, and a social turn count for as much in it
as they do elsewhere ; and as the pugilist makes a
good deal of money by teaching gentlemen to box, he
has to learn to behave himself, and often succeeds very
much better than the average middle-class professional
man. Shakespear was much nearer the mark when
he made Autolycus better company, and Charles the
Wrestler a better-mannered man, than Ajax or Cloten.
If Dickens had really known the ring, he would have
made the Chicken either a Sayers in professional ability
or a Sam Weller in sociability. A successful combination
of personal repulsiveness with professional incompetence
is as impossible there as at the bar or in the faculty.
The episode of the Chicken, then, must be dismissed, in
spite of its hero's tempting suggested remedy for Mr
Dombey's stiffness, as a futile atonement for the heroic
fisticuffs of Oliver Twist and Co.

There is an abominable vein of retaliatory violence all
through the literature of the nineteenth century. Whether
it is Macaulay describing the flogging of Titus Gates,
or Dickens inventing the scene in which old Martin
Chuzzlewit bludgeons Pecksniff, the curious childishness
of the English character, its naughty relish for primitive
brutalities and tolerance of physical indignities, its un-
reasoning destructiveness when incommoded, crop up in
all directions. The childishness has its advantages : its

*

xviii Cashel Byron's Profession

want of foresight prevents the individual from carrying
weapons, as it prevents the nation from being prepared
for war ; its forgetfulness prevents vendettas and pro-
longed malice-bearing ; its simplicity and transparency
save it from the more ingenious and complicated forms of
political corruption. In short, it has those innocences of
childhood which are a necessary result of its impotences.
But it has no true sense of human dignity. The son of
a Russian noble is not flogged at school, because he
commits suicide sooner than survive the outrage to his self-
respect. The son of an English noble has no more sense
of dignity than the master who flogs him : flogging may
be troublesome to the flogger and painful to the floggee ;
but the notion that the transaction is disgusting to the
public and dishonorable and disgraceful to the parties is as
unintelligible and fantastic in England as it is in a nursery
anywhere. The moment the Englishman gets away
from Eton, he begins to enjoy and boast of flogging as
an institution. A school where boys are flogged and
where they settle their quarrels by fighting with their
fists he calls, not, as one might expect, a school of child-
ishness, but a school of manliness. And he gradually
persuades himself that all Englishmen can use their fists,
which is about as true as the parallel theory that every
Frenchman can handle a foil and that every Italian carries
a stiletto. And so, though he himself has never fought a
pitched battle at school, and does not, pugilistically speak-
ing, know his right hand from his left ; though his
neighbors are as peaceful and as nervous as he ; though if
he knocked a man down or saw one of his friends do it,
the event would stand out in his history like a fire or a
murder ; yet he not only tolerates unstinted knockings-
down in fiction, but actually founds his conception of his
nation and its destiny on these imaginary outrages, and
at last comes to regard a plain statement of the plain fact

Preface xix

that the average respectable Englishman knows rather
less about fighting than he does about flying, as a
paradoxical extravagance.

And so every popular English novel becomes a
gospel of pugilism. Cashel Byron's Profession, then,
is like any other novel in respect of its hero punch-
ing people's heads. Its novelty consists in the fact that
an attempt is made to treat the art of punching seriously,
and to detach it from the general elevation of moral
character with which the ordinary novelist persists in
associating it.

Here, therefore, the prizefighter is not idolized. I have
given Cashel Byron every advantage a prizefighter can
have : health and strength and pugilistic genius. But by
pugilistic genius I mean nothing vague, imaginary, or
glamorous. In all walks of life men are to be found who
seem to have powers of divination. For example, you
propound a complicated arithmetical problem : say the
cubing of a number containing four digits. Give me a
slate and half an hour's time, and I will produce a wrong
answer. But there are men to whom the right answer is
instantly obvious without any consciousness of calculation
on their part. Ask such a man to write a description
or put a somewhat complicated thought into words;
and he will take my slate and blunder over it in
search of words for half an hour, finally putting
down the wrong ones ; whilst for a Shakespear the
words are there in due style and measure as soon as
the consciousness of the thing to be described or the
formation of the thought. Now there are pugilists to
whom the process of aiming and estimating distance in
hitting, of considering the evidence as to what their
opponent is going to do, arriving at a conclusion, and
devising and carrying out effective counter-measures,
is as instantaneous and unconscious as the calculation of

xx Cashel Byron's Profession

the born arithmetician or the verbal expression of the
born writer. This is not more wonderful than the very
complicated and deeply considered feats of breathing and
circulating the blood, which everybody does continually
without thinking; but it is much rarer, and so has a
miraculous appearance. A man with this gift, and with
no physical infirmities to disable him, is a born prize-
fighter. He need have no other exceptional qualities,
courage least of all : indeed there are instances on record
of prizefighters who have only consented to persevere
with a winning fight when a mirror has been brought to
convince them that their faces were undamaged and their
injuries and terrors imaginary. "Stage fright" is as
common in the ring as elsewhere : I have myself seen
a painful exhibition of it from a very rough customer
who presently knocked out his opponent without effort,
by instinct. The risks of the ring are limited by rules
and conditions to such an extent that the experienced
prizefighter is much more afraid of the blackguardism of
the spectators than of his opponent : he takes care to
have a strong body of supporters in his corner, and to
keep carefully away from the opposite corner. Courage
is if anything rather scarcer, because less needed, in the
ring than out of it ; and there are civil occupations
which many successful prizefighters would fail in, or.
fear to enter, for want of nerve. For the ring, like all
romantic institutions, has a natural attraction for hysterical
people.

When a pugilistic genius of the Cashel Byron type
appeared in the ring of his day, it soon became evident
to the betting men on whom the institution depended,
that it was useless to back clever boxers against him ;
for, as the younger Lytton said (I quote from memory)—

Talk not of genius baffled : genius is master of man.
Genius does what it must ; and Talent does what it can.

Preface xxi

But there is a well-known way of defeating the pugilistic
genius. There are hard-fisted, hard-hitting men in the
world, who will, with the callousness of a ship's figure-
head, and almost with its helplessness in defence, take all
the hammering that genius can give them, and, when
genius can hammer no more from mere exhaustion, give it
back its blows with interest and vanquish it. All pugilism
lies between these two extremes — between Cashel Byron
and William Paradise ; and it is because the Paradises are
as likely to win as the Byrons, and are by no means so
scarce, that the case for fist fighting, with gloves or
without, as a discipline in the higher athletic qualities,
moral and physical, imposes only on people who have no
practical knowledge of the subject.

STEVENSON'S EULOGIUM

On a previous page I have alluded to a letter from
Robert Louis Stevenson to Mr William Archer about
Cashel Byron's Profession. Part of that letter has been
given to the public in the second volume of Mr Sidney
Colvin's edition of Stevenson's letters (Methuen, 1900).
But no document concerning a living person of any con-
sequence (by which I mean a person with money enough
to take an action for libel) is ever published in England
unless its contents are wholly complimentary. Stevenson's
letters were probably all unfit for publication in this respect.
Certainly the one about Cashel Byron's Profession was ; and
Mr Sidney Colvin, out of consideration for me and for his
publishers and printers, politely abbreviated it. Fortu-
nately the original letter is still in the hands of Mr
Archer. I need not quote the handsome things which
Mr Colvin selected, as they have been extensively

xxii Cashel Byron's Profession

reprinted in America to help the sale of the reprints
there. But here is the suppressed portion, to which I
leave the last word, having no more to say than that the
book is now reprinted, not from the old Modern Press
edition which Stevenson read, but from the revised text
issued afterwards by Messrs Walter Scott, from which
certain " little bits of Socialism daubed in " for the edifica-
tion of the readers of To- Day were either painted out or
better harmonized with the rest. I had intended to make
no further revision ; and I have in fact made none of any
importance ; but in reading the proofs my pen positively
jumped to humanize a few passages in which the literary
professionalism with which my heroine expresses herself
(this professionalism is usually called "style" in England)
went past all bearing. I have also indulged myself by
varying a few sentences, and inserting one or two new
ones, so as to enable the American publisher to secure
copyright in this edition. But I have made no attempt
to turn an 1882 novel into a twentieth century one; and
the few alterations are, except for legal purposes, quite
negligeable.

And now for the suppressed part of Stevenson's verdict,
which is in the form of an analysis of the book's com-
position : —

" Charles Reade . . . . . I part
Henry James or some kindred author,

badly assimilated I part

Disraeli (perhaps unconscious) . -| part

Struggling, overlaid original talent . l-| part

Blooming gaseous folly I part

" That is the equation as it stands. What it may become,
I dont know, nor any other man. Vixere fortes — O, let him
remember that — let him beware of his damned century : his
gifts of insane chivalry and animated narration are just those

Preface xxiii

that might be slain and thrown out like an untimely birth by
the Daemon of the Epoch.

" And if he only knew how I had enjoyed the chivalry !
Bashville — O Bashville ! fen chortle ! (which is finely
polyglot)."

CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION

PROLOGUE

MONCRIEF House, Panley Common. Scholastic estab-
lishment for the sons of gentlemen, etc.

Panley Common, viewed from the back windows of
Moncrief House, is a tract of grass, furze, and rushes,
stretching away to the western horizon.

One wet spring afternoon the sky was full of broken
clouds ; and the common was swept by their shadows,
between which patches of green and yellow gorse were
bright in the broken sunlight. The hills to the north-
ward were obscured by a heavy shower, traces of which
were drying off the slates of the school, a square white
building, formerly a gentleman's country house. In
front of it was a well-kept lawn with a few dipt holly
trees : at the rear, quarter of an acre of land enclosed for
the use of the boys. Strollers on the common could
hear, at certain hours, a hubbub of voices and racing
footsteps within the boundary wall. Sometimes, when
the strollers were boys themselves, they climbed to the
coping, and saw on the other side a piece of common
trampled bare and brown, with a few square yards of

2 Cashel Byron's Profession

concrete, so worn into hollows as to be unfit for its
original use as a ball alley. Also a long shed, a pump,
a door defaced by innumerable incised inscriptions, the
back of the house in much worse repair than the front,
and about fifty boys in tailless jackets and broad turned-
down collars. Whenever the fifty boys perceived a
young stranger on the wall, they rushed to the spot with
a wild halloo ; overwhelmed him with insult and de-
fiance j and dislodged him by a volley of clods, stones,
lumps of bread, and such other projectiles as were at
hand.

On this rainy spring afternoon, a brougham stood at
the door of Moncrief House. The coachman, enveloped
in a white india-rubber coat, was bestirring himself a
little after the recent shower. Withindoors, in the
drawing-room, Dr. Moncrief was conversing with a
stately lady aged about thirty-five, elegantly dressed, of
attractive manner, and beautiful at all points except her
complexion, which was deficient in freshness.

" No progress whatever, I am sorry to say," the doctor
was remarking.

"That is very disappointing," said the lady, contract-
ing her brows.

ult is natural that you should feel disappointed,"
replied the doctor. "I should myself earnestly advise

you to try the effect of placing him at some other "

The doctor stopped. The lady's face had lit with a
wonderful smile ; and her hand was up with a bewitching
gesture of protest.

" Oh no, Dr. Moncrief," she said : " I am not disap-
pointed with you; but I am all the more angry with
Cashel because I know that if he makes no progress here,
it must be his own fault. As to taking him away, that
is out of the question. I should not have a moment's
peace if he were out of your care. I will speak to him

Prologue 3

very seriously about his conduct before I leave to-day.
You will give him another trial, will you not ? "

"Certainly. With the greatest pleasure," said the
doctor, confusing himself by an inept attempt at gallantry.
" He shall stay as long as you please. But " — here the
doctor became grave again — "you cannot too strongly
urge upon him the importance of hard work at the
present time, which may be said to be the turning point
of his career as a student. He is now nearly seventeen ;
and he has so little inclination for study that I doubt
whether he could pass the examination necessary to enter
one of the universities. You probably wish him to take
a degree before he chooses a profession."

"Yes, of course," said the lady vaguely, evidently
assenting to the doctor's remark rather than expressing a
conviction of her own. "What profession would you
advise for him ? You know so much better than I."

" Hum ! " said Dr. Moncrief, puzzled. " That would
doubtless depend to some extent on his own taste "

"Not at all," said the lady, interrupting him viva-
ciously. "What does he know about the world, poor
boy ? His own taste is sure to be something ridiculous.
Very likely he would want to go on the stage, like me."

"Oh ! Then you would not encourage any tendency
of that sort ? "

"Most decidedly not. I hope he has no such idea."

" Not that I am aware of. He shews so little ambi-
tion to excel in any particular branch, that I should say
his choice of a profession may be best determined by his
parents. I am, of course, ignorant whether his relatives
possess influence likely to be of use to him. That is
often the chief point to be considered, particularly in
cases like your son's, where no special aptitude manifests
itself."

" I am the only relative he ever had, poor fellow," said

4 Cashel Byron's Profession

the lady, with a pensive smile. Then, seeing an expres-
sion of astonishment on the doctor's face, she added
quickly, "They are all dead."

"Dear me!"

" However," she continued, " I have no doubt I can
make plenty of interest for him. But I suppose it is
difficult to get anything nowadays without passing
competitive examinations. He really must work. If he
is lazy he ought to be punished."

The doctor looked perplexed. " The fact is," he said,
" your son can hardly be dealt with as a child any longer.
He is still quite a boy in his habits and ideas ; but
physically he is rapidly springing up into a young man.
That reminds me of another point on which I will ask
you to speak earnestly to him. I must tell you that he
has attained some distinction among his school- fellows
here as an athlete. Within due bounds I do not dis-
courage bodily exercises : they are a recognized part of
our system. But I am sorry to say that Cashel has not
escaped that tendency to violence which sometimes
results from the possession of unusual strength and
dexterity. He actually fought with one of the village
youths in the main street of Panley some months ago, I
am told, though the matter did not come to my ears
immediately. He was guilty of a much more serious
fault a little later. He and a companion of his obtained
leave from me to walk to Panley Abbey together ; but I
afterwards found that their real object was to witness a
prizefight that took place — illegally, of course — on the
common. Apart from the deception practised, I think
the taste they betrayed a dangerous one ; and I felt
bound to punish them by a severe imposition, and
restriction to the grounds for six weeks. I do not hold,
however, that everything has been done in these cases
when a boy has been punished. I set a high value on a

Prologue 5

mother's influence for softening the natural roughness of
boys."

"I dont think he minds what I say to him in the
least," said the lady, with a sympathetic air, as if she
pitied the doctor in a matter that chiefly concerned him.
"I will speak to him about it, certainly. Fighting is
an unbearable habit. His father's people were always
fighting ; and they never did any good in the world."

"If you will be so kind. There are just the three
points: the necessity for greater — much greater —
application to his studies ; a word to him on the subject
of rough habits ; and to sound him as to his choice of a
career. I agree with you in not attaching much import-
ance to his ideas on that subject as yet. Still, even a
boyish fancy may be turned to account in rousing the
energies of a lad."

" Quite so," assented the lady. " I shall take care to
give him a lecture."

The doctor looked at her mistrustfully, thinking
perhaps that she herself would be the better for a lecture
on her duties as a mother. But he did not dare to tell
her so : indeed, having a prejudice that actresses were
deficient in natural feeling, he doubted the use of daring.
He also feared that the subject of her son was beginning
to bore her ; and, though a doctor of divinity, he was as
reluctant as other men to be found wanting in address
by a pretty woman. So he rang the bell, and bade the
servant send Master Cashel Byron. Presently a door
was heard to open below ; and a buzz of distant voices
became audible. The doctor fidgeted and tried to think
of something to say ; but his invention failed him : he
sat in silence whilst the inarticulate buzz rose into a
shouting of " By-ron ! Cash ! " the latter cry imitated
from the summons usually addressed to cashiers in haber-
dashers' shops. Finally there was a piercing yell of

6 Cashel Byron's Profession

" Mam-ma-a-a-a-ah ! " apparently in explanation of the
demand for Byron's attendance in the drawing-room.
The doctor reddened. Mrs. Byron smiled. Then the
door below closed, shutting out the tumult ; and footsteps
were heard on the stairs.

" Come in," cried the doctor encouragingly.

Master Cashel Byron entered blushing ; made his way
awkwardly to his mother ; and kissed the critical
expression which was on her upturned face as she
examined his appearance. Being only seventeen, he had
not yet acquired a taste for kissing. He inexpertly gave
Mrs. Byron quite a shock by the collision of their teeth.
Conscious of the failure, he drew himself upright, and
tried to hide his hands, which were exceedingly dirty, in
the scanty folds of his jacket. He was a well-grown
youth, with strong neck and shoulders, and short auburn
hair curling in little rings close to his scalp. He had
blue eyes, and an expression of boyish good humour,
which, however, did not convey any assurance of good
temper.

" How do you do, Cashel ? " said Mrs. Byron, with
queenly patronage, after a prolonged look at him.

" Very well, thanks," said he, grinning and avoiding
her eye.

" Sit down, Byron," said the doctor. Byron suddenly
forgot how to sit down, and looked irresolutely from one
chair to another. The doctor made a brief excuse, and
left the room, much to the relief of his pupil.

" You have grown greatly, Cashel. And I am afraid
you are very awkward." Cashel colored and looked
gloomy.

" I do not know what to do with you," continued
Mrs. Byron. " Dr. Moncrief tells me that you are very
idle and rough."

" I am not," said Cashel sulkily. " It is bee—

Prologue 7

" There is no use in contradicting me in that fashion,"
said Mrs. Byron, interrupting him sharply. " I am sure
that whatever Dr. Moncrief says is perfectly true."

" He is always talking like that," said Cashel plain-
tively. " I cant learn Latin and Greek ; and I dont see
what good they are. I work as hard as any of the rest
— except the regular stews perhaps. As to my being
rough, that is all because I was out one day with Gully
Molesworth ; and we saw a crowd on the common ; and
when we went to see what was up it was two men
fighting. It wasnt our fault that they came there to

fight."

" Yes : I have no doubt that you have fifty good
excuses, Cashel. But I will not allow any fighting ; and
you really must work harder. Do you ever think of how
hard / have to work to pay Dr. Moncrief one hundred
and twenty pounds a year for you ? "

" I work as hard as I can. Old Moncrief seems to
think that a fellow ought to do nothing else from
morning till night but write Latin verses. Tatham, that
the doctor thinks such a genius, does all his constering
from cribs. If I had a crib I could conster as well —
very likely better."

" You are very idle, Cashel : I am sure of that. It is
too provoking to throw away so much money every year
for nothing. Besides, you must soon be thinking of a
profession."

" I shall go into the army," said Cashel. " It is the
only profession for a gentleman."

Mrs. Byron looked at him for a moment as if amazed
at his presumption. But she checked herself and only
said, " I am afraid you will have to choose some less
expensive profession than that. Besides, you would have
to pass an examination to enable you to enter the army ;
and how can you do that unless you study ? "

8 Cashel Byron's Profession

" Oh, I shall do that all right enough when the time
comes."

" Dear, dear ! You are beginning to speak so coarsely,
Cashel. After all the pains I took with you at home ! "

" I speak the same as other people," he replied sullenly.
" I dont see the use of being so jolly particular over every
syllable. I used to have to stand no end of chaff about
my way of speaking. The fellows here know all about
you, of course."

c< All about me ? " repeated Mrs. Byron, looking at
him curiously.

"All about your being on the stage, I mean," said
Cashel. " You complain of my being rough ; but I
should have a precious bad time of it if I didnt lick the
chaff out of some of them."

Mrs, Byron smiled doubtfully to herself, and remained
silent and thoughtful for a moment. Then she rose and
said, glancing at the weather, " I must go now, Cashel,
before another shower begins. And do, pray, try to
learn something, and to polish your manners a little.
You will have to go to Cambridge soon, you know."

" Cambridge ! " exclaimed Cashel, excited. " When,
mamma ? When ? "

"Oh, I dont know. Not yet. As soon as Dr.
Moncrief says you are fit to go."

"That will be long enough," said Cashel, much
dejected by this reply. "He will not turn £120 a year
out of doors in a hurry. He kept big Inglis here until
he was past twenty. Look here, mamma : might I go
at the end of this half? I feel sure I should do better at
Cambridge than here."

" Nonsense," said Mrs. Byron decidedly. " I do not
expect to have to take you away from Dr. Moncrief for
the next eighteen months at least, and not then unless
you work properly. Now dont grumble, Cashel : you

Prologue 9

annoy me exceedingly when you do. I am sorry I
mentioned Cambridge to you."

" I would rather go to some other school, then," said
Cashel ruefully. " Old Moncrief is so awfully down on me."

" You only want to leave because you are expected to
work here ; and that is the very reason I wish you to stay."

Cashel made no reply ; but his face darkened
ominously.

" I have a word to say to the doctor before I go," she
added, reseating herself. " You may return to your play
now. Good-bye, Cashel." And she again raised her
face to be kissed.

" Good-bye," said Cashel huskily, as he turned towards
the door, pretending that he had not noticed her action.

" Cashel ! " she said, with emphatic surprise. " Are
you sulky ? "

" No," he retorted angrily. " I havent said anything.
I suppose my manners are not good enough. I'm very
sorry ; but I cant help it."

" Very well," said Mrs. Byron firmly. a You can go.
I am not pleased with you."

Cashel walked out of the room and slammed the door.
At the foot of the stairs he was stopped by a boy about a
year younger than himself, who accosted him eagerly.

" How much did she give you ? " he whispered.

" Not a halfpenny," replied Cashel, grinding his teeth.

" Oh, I say ! " exclaimed the other, deeply disappointed.
" That was beastly mean."

" She's as mean as she can be," said Cashel. " It's all
old Monkey's fault. He has been cramming her with
lies about me. But she's just as bad as he is. I tell
you, Gully, I hate my mother."

"Oh, come ! " said Gully, shocked. "That's a little
too strong, old chap. But she certainly ought to have
stood something."

io Cashel Byron's Profession

" I dont know what you intend to do, Gully ; but I
mean to bolt. If she thinks I am going to stick here for
the next two years, she is jolly much mistaken."

" It would be an awful lark to bolt," said Gully with
a chuckle. "But," he added seriously, "if you really
mean it ; by George, I'll go too ! Wilson has just given
me a thousand lines ; and I'll be hanged if I do them."

" Gully," said Cashel, his frown deepening and fixing
itself forbiddingly : " I should like to see one of those
chaps we saw on the common pitch into the doctor — get
him on the ropes, you know."

Gully's mouth watered. "Yes," he said breathlessly;
"particularly the fellow they called the Fibber. Just
one round would be enough for the old beggar. Let's
come out into the playground : I shall catch it if I am
found here."

II

That night there was just sufficient light struggling
through the clouds to make Panley Common visible as a
black expanse, against the lightest tone of which a piece
of ebony would have appeared pale. Not a human being
was stirring within a mile of Moncrief House, the
chimneys of which, ghostly white on the side next the
moon, threw long shadows on the silver-grey slates.
The stillness had just been broken by the stroke of a
quarter-past twelve from a distant church tower, when,
from the obscurity of one of these chimney shadows,
a head emerged. It belonged to a boy, whose body
presently came wriggling through an open skylight.
When his shoulders were through, he turned himself face
upwards ; seized the miniature gable in which the skylight
was set ; drew himself completely out ; and made his way
stealthily down to the parapet. He was immediately
followed by another boy.

Prologue 1 1

The door of Moncrief House was at the left hand
corner of the front, and was surmounted by a tall porch,
the top of which was flat and could be used as a balcony.
A wall, of the same height as the porch, connected
the house front with the boundary wall, and formed
part of the inclosure of a fruit garden which lay at the
side of the house between the lawn and the playground.
When the two boys had crept along the parapet to a
point directly above the porch, they stopped ; and each
lowered a pair of boots to the balcony by means of fishing
lines. When the boots were safely landed, their owners
let the lines drop, and re-entered the house by another
skylight. A minute elapsed. Then they reappeared on
the top of the porch, having come out through the
window to which it served as a balcony. Here they
put on their boots, and made for the wall of the fruit
garden. As they crawled along it, the hindmost boy
whispered,

" I say, Cashy."

"Shut up, will you," replied the other under his
breath. " What's wrong ? "

"I should like to have one more go at old mother
Moncrief's pear tree : that's all."

" There are no pears on it at this time of year, you fool."

cc I know. This is the last time we shall go this road,
Cashy. Usent it to be a lark ? Eh ? "

" If you dont shut up, it wont be the last time ; for
youll be caught. Now for it."

Cashel had reached the outer wall ; and he finished
his sentence by dropping from the coping to the common.
Gully held his breath for some moments after the noise
made by his companion's striking the ground. Then he
demanded in a whisper whether all was right.

" Yes," returned Cashel impatiently. " Drop as soft
as you can."

1 2 Cashel Byron's Profession

Gully obeyed ; and was so careful lest his descent
should shake the earth and awake the doctor, that his
feet shrank from the concussion. He alighted in a
sitting posture, and remained there, looking up at Cashel
with a stunned expression.

" Crickey ! " he ejaculated presently. " That was a
buster."

" Get up, I tell you," said Cashel. " I never saw such
a jolly ass as you are. Here, up with you ! Have you
got your wind back ? "

" I should think so. Bet you twopence I'll be first at
the cross roads. I say : let's pull the bell at the front
gate and give an awful yell before we start. They'll
never catch us."

" Yes," said Cashel ironically : " I fancy I see myself
doing it, or you either. Now then. One, two, three,
and away."

They ran off together, and reached the cross roads
about eight minutes later : Gully completely out of
breath, and Cashel nearly so. Here, according to their
plan, Gully was to take the north road and run to
Scotland, where he felt sure his uncle's gamekeeper
would hide him. Cashel was to go to sea, so that if his
affairs became desperate, he could at least turn pirate,
and achieve eminence in that profession by adding a
chivalrous humanity to the ruder virtues for which it is
already famous.

Cashel waited until Gully had recovered from his race.
Then he said,

u Now, old fellow. Weve got to separate."

Gully, confronted with the lonely realities of his
scheme, did not like the prospect. After a moment's
reflection he exclaimed,

"Damme, old chap, I'll come with you. Scotland
may go and be hanged."

Prologue 1 3

But Cashel, being the stronger of the two, was as
anxious to get rid of Gully as Gully was to cling to
him. " No," he said, " I'm going to rough it ; and
you wouldnt be able for that. Youre not strong enough
for a sea life. Why, man, those sailor fellows are as
hard as nails ; and even they can hardly stand it."

"Well, then, do you come with me," urged Gully.
" My uncle's gamekeeper wont mind. He's a jolly good
sort ; and we shall have no end of shooting."

" That's all very well for you, Gully ; but I dont
know your uncle ; and I'm not going to put myself under
a compliment to his gamekeeper. Besides, we should run
too much risk of being caught if we went through the
country together. Of course I should be only too glad
if we could stick to one another ; but it wouldnt do : I
feel certain we should be nabbed. Good-bye."

"But wait a minute," pleaded Gully. "Suppose they
do try to catch us : we shall have a better chance against
them if there are two of us."

"Stuff!" said Cashel. "That's all boyish nonsense.
There will be at least six policemen sent after us ; and
even if I did my very best, I could barely lick two if
they came on together. And you would hardly be able
for one. You just keep moving, and dont go near any
railway station; and you will get to Scotland all safe
enough. Look here : weve wasted five minutes already.
Ive got my wind now ; and I must be off. Good-bye."

Gully disdained to press his company on Cashel any
further. "Good-bye," he said, mournfully shaking his
hand. " Success, old chap."

" Success ! " echoed Cashel, grasping Gully's hand with
a pang of remorse for leaving him. " I'll write to you as
soon as I have anything to tell you. I may be some
months, you know, before I get regularly settled."

He gave Gully a final squeeze ; released him ; and

14 Cashel Byron's Profession

darted off along the road leading to Panley Village.
Gully looked after him a moment, and then ran away
Scotlandwards.

Panley Village is nothing but a High Street, with an
old-fashioned inn at one end, a modern railway station
and bridge at the other, and a pump and pound midway
between. Cashel stood for a while in the shadow under
the bridge before venturing along the broad moonlit
street. Seeing no one, he stepped out at a brisk walking
pace ; for he had by this time reflected that it was not
possible to run all the way to the Spanish main. There
was, however, another person stirring in the village
besides Cashel. This was Mr. Wilson, Dr. MoncriePs
professor of mathematics, who was returning from a
visit to the theatre. Mr. Wilson believed that theatres
were wicked places, to be visited by respectable men
only on rare occasions and by stealth. The only plays
he went openly to witness were those of Shakespear ;
and his favourite was " As you like it " : Rosalind in
tights having an attraction for him which he missed
from Lady Macbeth in petticoats. This evening he had
seen Rosalind impersonated by a famous actress, who had
come to a neighboring town on a starring tour. After
the performance he had returned to Panley to sup there
with a friend, and was now making his way back to
Moncrief House. He was in a frame of mind favorable
for the capture of a runaway boy. An habitual delight in
being too clever for his pupils, fostered by frequently over-
reaching them in mathematics, was just now stimulated by
the effect of a liberal supper and the roguish consciousness
of having been to the play. He saw and recognized Cashel
as he approached the village pound. Understanding the
situation at once, he hid behind the pump; waited until the
unsuspecting truant was passing within arm's length ; and
then pounced out and seized him by the collar of his jacket.

Prologue 1 5

" Well, sir," he said. " What are you doing here at
this hour ? Eh ? "

Cashel, scared and white, looked at him, and could
not answer a word.

" Come along with me," said Wilson sternly.

Cashel suffered himself to be led some twenty yards.
Then he stopped and burst into tears.

" There is no use in my going back," he said. " I
have never done any good there. I cant go back."

" Indeed," said Wilson, with magisterial sarcasm.
" We shall try to make you do better in future." And
he forced the fugitive to resume his march.

Cashel, bitterly humiliated by his own tears, and
exasperated by a certain cold triumph which Wilson
evinced on witnessing them, did not go many steps
further without protest.

" You neednt hold me," he said angrily : " I can
walk without being held." The master tightened his
grasp and pushed his captive forward. "I wont run
away, sir," said Cashel more humbly, shedding fresh
tears. "Please let me go," he added in a suffocated
voice, trying to turn his face towards his captor. But
Wilson twisted him back again, and still urged him
onward. Cashel cried out passionately, "Let me go,"
and struggled to break loose.

"Come, come, Byron," said the master, controlling
him with a broad strong hand : " none of your nonsense,
sir."

Then Cashel suddenly slipped out of his jacket ;
turned on Wilson ; and struck up at him savagely with
his right fist. The master received the blow just beside
the point of his chin ; and his eyes seemed to Cashel to
roll up and fall back into his head with the shock. He
drooped forward for a moment, and fell in a heap face
downwards. Cashel recoiled, wringing his hand to

1 6 Cashel Byron's Profession

relieve the tingling of his knuckles, and terrified by the
possibility that he had committed murder. But Wilson
presently moved and dispelled that misgiving. Some of
Cashel's fury returned as he shook his fist at his prostrate
adversary, and, exclaiming, " You wont brag much of
having seen me cry," wrenched the jacket from him with
unnecessary violence, and darted away at full speed.

Mr. Wilson, though he was soon conscious and able
to rise, did not at first feel disposed to stir. He began
to moan, with a dazed faith that some one would eventu-
ally come to him with sympathy and assistance. But
the lapse of time brought nothing but increased cold and
pain. It occurred to him that if the police found him
they might suppose him to be drunk \ also that it was
his duty to go to them and give the alarm. He rose,
and, after a struggle with dizziness and nausea, concluded
that his most pressing duty was to get to bed, and leave
Dr. Moncrief to recapture his ruffianly pupil as best he
could.

At half-past one o'clock the doctor was roused by a
knocking at his chamber-door, outside which he found
his professor of mathematics, bruised, muddy, and appar-
ently inebriated. Some minutes were lost before Wilson
could get his principal's mind on the right track. Then
the boys were awakened and the roll called. Byron and
Molesworth were reported absent. No one had seen
them go : no one had the least suspicion of how they
had got out of the house. One little boy mentioned the
skylight ; but, observing a threatening expression on the
faces of a few of the bigger boys, who were fond of fruit,
he did not press his suggestion, and submitted to be
snubbed by the doctor for having made it. It was nearly
three o'clock before the alarm reached the village, where
the authorities tacitly declined to trouble themselves
about it until morning. The doctor, convinced that

Prologue 17

the lad had gone to his mother, did not believe that any
search was necessary, and contented himself with writing
a note to Mrs. Byron describing the attack on Mr.
Wilson, and expressing regret that no proposal having
for its object the readmission of Master Byron to the
academy could be entertained.

The pursuit was now directed entirely after Moles-
worth, as it was plain, from Mr. Wilson's narrative, that
he had separated from Cashel outside Panley. Informa-
tion was soon forthcoming. Peasants in all parts of the
country had seen, they said, " a lad that might be him."
The search lasted until five o'clock next afternoon, when
it was terminated by the appearance of Gully in person,
footsore and repentant. After parting from Cashel and
walking two miles, he had lost heart and turned back.
Half way to the cross roads he had reproached himself
with cowardice, and resumed his flight. This time he
placed eight miles betwixt himself and Moncrief House.
Then he left the road to make a short cut through a
plantation, and went astray. After wandering dejectedly
until morning, he saw a woman working in a field, and
asked her the shortest way to Scotland. She had never
heard of Scotland ; and when he asked the way to Panley,
she grew suspicious and threatened to set her dog at him.
This discouraged him so much that he was afraid to
speak to the other strangers whom he met. Steering by
the sun, he oscillated between Scotland and Panley
according to the fluctuation of his courage. At last he
yielded to hunger, fatigue, and loneliness ; devoted his
remaining energy to the task of getting back to school ;
struck the common at last j and hastened to surrender
himself to the doctor, who menaced him with immediate
expulsion. Gully was greatly concerned at the prospect
of being compelled to leave the place he had just run
away from ; and earnestly begged the doctor to give him

c

1 8 Cashel Byron's Profession

another chance. His prayer was granted. After a pro-
longed lecture, the doctor, in consideration of the facts
that Gully, though corrupted by the example of a
desperate associate, had proved the sincerity of his re-
pentance by coming back of his own accord, and had
not been accessory to the concussion of the brain from
which Mr. Wilson supposed himself to be suffering,
accepted his promise of amendment and gave him a free
pardon. Gully accordingly attempted for the first time
in his life to play the part of the studious and sensible
boy ; and was so much struck by the safety, credit, and
self-satisfaction which it gained for him, that he kept it
up to the end of his schooldays. Yet he did not lose
the esteem of his comrades ; for he succeeded in con-
vincing them, by the license of his private conversation,
that his reformation was only a consummate imposture,
of which that common enemy, the principal, was the un-
pitied dupe.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Byron, not suspecting the import-
ance of the doctor's note, and happening to be in a hurry
when it arrived, laid it by unopened, intending to read it
at her leisure. She would have forgotten it altogether
but for a second note which came two days later, re-
questing some acknowledgment of the previous com-
munication. On learning the truth she immediately
drove to Moncrief House, and there abused the doctor
as he had never been abused in his life before ; after
which she begged his pardon, and implored him to assist
her to recover her darling boy. When he suggested that
she should offer a reward for information and capture,
she indignantly refused to spend a farthing on the little
ingrate ; wept and accused herself of having driven him
away by her unkindness ; stormed and accused the
doctor of having treated him harshly ; and finally said
that she would give ^100 to have him back, but that she

Prologue 1 9

would never speak to him again. The doctor promised
to undertake the search, and would have promised any-
thing to get rid of his visitor. A reward of ^50 was
offered. But whether the fear of falling into the clutches
of the law for murderous assault stimulated Cashel to
extraordinary precaution, or whether he had contrived
to leave the country in the four days betv/een his flight
and the offer of the reward, the doctor's efforts were
unsuccessful ; and he had to confess their failure to
Mrs. Byron. She agreeably surprised him by writing a
pleasant letter to the effect that it was very provoking,
and that she could never thank him sufficiently for all
the trouble he had taken. And so the matter dropped.

Ill

There was at this time in the city of Melbourne, in
Australia, a wooden building, above the door of which
was a board inscribed GYMNASIUM AND SCHOOL
OF ARMS. In the long narrow entry hung a framed
manuscript which set forth that Ned Skene, ex-champion
of England and the Colonies, was to be heard of within
by gentlemen desirous of becoming proficient in the art
of self-defence. Also the terms on which Mrs. Skene,
assisted by a competent staff of professors, would give
lessons in dancing, deportment, and calisthenics.

One evening a man sat smoking on a common kitchen
chair on the threshold of this establishment. Beside
him were some tin tacks and a hammer. He had just
nailed to the doorpost a card on which was written in a
woman's handwriting : " Wanted^ a male attendant who
can keep accounts. Inquire within." The smoker was a
powerful man, with a thick neck that swelled out beneath
his broad flat ear-lobes. He had small eyes, and large

2o Cashel Byron's Profession

teeth over which his lips were slightly parted in a smile,
good-humored but affectedly cunning. His hair was
black and close cut, his skin indurated, and the bridge
of his nose smashed level with his face. The tip, how-
ever, was uninjured. It was squab and glossy, and, by
giving the whole feature an air of being on the point of
expanding to its original shape, produced a snubbed
expression which relieved the otherwise formidable aspect
of the man, and recommended him as probably a modest
and affable fellow when sober and unprovoked. He
seemed about fifty years of age, and was clad in a straw
hat and a suit of white linen.

Before he had finished his pipe, the card on the door-
post attracted the attention of a youth attired in a coarse
sailor's jersey and a pair of grey tweed trousers which he
had outgrown.

" Looking for a job ? " inquired the ex-champion of
England and the Colonies.

The youth blushed and replied, " Yes. I should like
to get something to do."

Mr. Skene stared at him with stern curiosity. His
professional pursuits had familiarized him with the
manners and speech of English gentlemen ; and he
immediately recognized the shabby sailor lad as one of
that class.

" Perhaps youre a scholar," said the prizefighter, after
a moment's reflection.

" I have been at school ; but I didnt learn much
there. I think I could book-keep by double entry."

" Double entry ! What's that ? "

" It's the way merchants' books are kept. It is called
so because everything is entered twice over."

" Ah ! " said Skene, unfavorably impressed by the
system: "once is enough for me. What's your weight?"

" I dont know," said the lad with a grin.

Prologue 21

" Not know your own weight ! That aint the way
to get on in life."

" I havent been weighed since a long time ago in
England," said the other, beginning to get the better of
his shyness. " I was eight stone four then ; so you see
I am only a light weight."

" And what do you know about light weights ?
Perhaps, being so well educated, you know how to
fight. Eh ? "

" I dont think I could fight you," said the youth, with
another grin.

Skene chuckled ; and the stranger, with boyish
communicativeness, gave him an account of a real fight
(meaning apparently one between professional pugilists)
which he had seen in England. He went on to describe
how he had himself knocked down a master with one
blow when running away from school. Skene received
this sceptically, and cross-examined the narrator as to the
manner and effect of the blow, with the result of con-
vincing himself that the story was true. At the end of
quarter of an hour, the lad had commended himself so
acceptably by his conversation that the champion took
him into the gymnasium, where he weighed him ;
measured him ; and finally handed him a pair of boxing
gloves and invited him to shew what he was made of.
The youth, though impressed by the prizefighter's
attitude with a hopeless sense of the impossibility of
reaching him, rushed boldly at him several times, knock-
ing his face on each occasion against Skene's left fist,
which seemed to be ubiquitous, and to have the power
of imparting the consistency of iron to padded leather.
At last the novice directed a frantic assault at the
champion's nose, rising on his toes in that aspiration.
Skene stopped the blow with a jerk of his right elbow ;
and the impetuous youth spun and stumbled away until

22 Cashel Byron's Profession

he fell supine in a corner, rapping his head smartly on
the floor at the same time. He rose with unabated
cheerfulness and offered to continue the combat ; but
Skene declined any further exercise just then, though he
was so much pleased with his novice's game that he
promised to give him a scientific education and make a
man of him.

The champion now sent for his wife, whom he revered
as a pre-eminently sensible and well-mannered woman.
The new comer could see in her only a ridiculous
dancing mistress ; but he treated her with great defer-
ence, and thereby improved the high opinion which
Skene had already formed of him. He related to her
how, after running away from school, he had made his
way to Liverpool ; gone to the docks ; and contrived to
hide himself on board a ship bound for Australia. Also
how he had suffered severely from hunger and thirst
before he discovered himself; and how, notwithstanding
his unpopular position as stowaway, he had been fairly
treated as soon as he had shewn that he was willing to
work. And in proof that he was still willing, and had
profited by his maritime experience, he offered to sweep
the floor of the gymnasium then and there. This
proposal convinced the Skenes, who had listened to his
story like children listening to a fairy tale, that he was
not too much of a gentleman to do rough work ; and it
was presently arranged that he should thenceforth board
and lodge with them ; have five shillings a week for
pocket money ; and be man of all work, servant, gym-
nasium attendant, clerk, and apprentice to the ex-
champion of England and the Colonies.

He soon found his bargain no easy one. The gym-
nasium was open from nine in the morning until eleven
at night ; and the athletic gentlemen who came there not
only ordered him about without ceremony, but varied

Prologue 23

the monotony of vainly opposing the invincible Skene,
by practising what he taught them on the person of his
apprentice, whom they pounded with great relish, and
threw backwards, forwards, and over their shoulders as
though he had been but a senseless effigy provided for
that purpose. The champion looked on and laughed,
being too lazy to redeem his promise of teaching the
novice to defend himself. The latter, however, watched
the lessons he saw daily given to the others ; and
before the end of the month he so completely turned the
tables on the amateur pugilists of Melbourne that Skene
one day took occasion to remark that he was growing
uncommon clever, but that gentlemen liked to be played
easy with, and that he should be careful not to knock
them about too much. Besides these bodily exertions,
he had to keep account of gloves and foils sold and
bought, and of the fees due both to Mr. and Mrs. Skene.
This was the most irksome part of his duty; for he wrote
a large schoolboy hand, and was not quick at figures.
When he at last began to assist his master in giving
lessons, the accounts had fallen into arrear ; and Mrs.
Skene had to resume her former care of them : a circum-
stance which gratified her husband, who regarded it as
a fresh triumph of her superior intelligence. Then a
Chinaman was engaged to do the more menial work of
the establishment. "Skene's Novice," as he was now
generally called, was elevated to the rank of assistant
professor to the champion, and became a person of some
consequence in the gymnasium.

He had been there more than nine months, and had
developed into an athletic young man of eighteen with a
keen eye for a tip, and a scale of " Thank you, sirs "
nicely graduated from half-a-crown to a sovereign, when
an important conversation took place between him and
his principal. It was evening ; and the only persons in

24 Cashel Byron's Profession

the gymnasium were Ned Skene, who sat smoking at his
ease with his coat off, and the novice, who had just
come downstairs from his bedroom, where he had been
preparing for a visit to the theatre.

"Well, my gentleman," said Skene mockingly:
" youre a fancy man, you are. Gloves, too ! Theyre
too small for you. Dont you get hittin nobody with
them on, or youll mebbe sprain your wrist."

" Not much fear of that," said the novice, looking at
his watch. Finding that he had some minutes to spare,
he sat down opposite Skene.

" No," assented the champion. " When you rise to
be a regular professional, you wont care to spar with
nobody without youre well paid for it."

cc I may say I am in the profession already. You dont
call me an amateur, do you ? "

" Oh no," said Skene : " not so bad as that. But
mind you, my boy, I dont call no man a fighting man
what aint been in the ring. Youre a sparrer, and a
clever, pretty sparrer ; but sparring aint the real thing.
Some day, please God, we'll make up a little match for
you, and shew what you can do without the gloves."

" I would just as soon have the gloves off as on," said
the novice, a little sulkily.

" That's because you have a heart as big as a lion,"
said Skene, soothingly. But the novice, accustomed to
hear his master pay the same compliment to his patrons
whenever they were seized with fits of boasting (which
usually happened when they got worsted), looked obdurate
and said nothing.

" Sam Ducket of Milltown was here to-day while you
was out giving Captain Noble his lesson," continued
Skene, watching his apprentice's face. " Now Sam is a
real fighting man, if you like." ,

" I dont think much of him. He's a liar, for one thing."

Prologue 25

"That's a failing of the profession. I dont mind
telling you so," said Skene mournfully. Now the novice
had found out this for himself already. He never, for
instance, believed the accounts which his master gave of
the accidents and conspiracies which had led to his being
defeated three times in the ring. However, as Skene
had won fifteen battles, his next remark was undeniable.
" Men fight none the worse for being liars. Sam Ducket
bet Ebony Muley in twenty minutes."

" Yes," said the novice scornfully ; " and what is
Ebony Muley ? A wretched old nigger nearly sixty
years old, who is drunk seven days in the week, and
would sell a fight for a glass of brandy ! Ducket ought
to have knocked him out of time in twenty seconds.
Ducket has no science."

" Not a bit," said Ned. " But he has lots of game."

" Pshaw ! That's what they always try to make out.
If a fellow knows how to box, they say he has science
but no pluck. If he doesnt know his right hand from
his left, they say that he isnt clever, but that he's full of
game."

Skene looked with secret wonder at his pupil, whose
powers of observation and expression sometimes seemed
to him almost to rival those of Mrs. Skene. " Sam was
sayin something like that to-day," he remarked. " He
says youre only a sparrer, and that youd fall down with
fright if you was put into a twenty-four foot ring."

The novice flushed. " I wish I had been here when
Sam Ducket said that."

"Why, what could you ha' done to him?" said
Skene, his small eyes twinkling.

" I'd have punched his head : that's what I could and
would have done to him."

"Why, man, he'd eat you."

" He might. And he might eat you too, Ned, if he

26 Cashel Byron's Profession

had salt enough with you. He talks big because he
knows I have no money ; and he pretends he wont strip
for less than fifty pounds a side."

" No money ! " cried Skene. " I know them as'll
make up fifty pound before twelve to-morrow for any
man as I will answer for. There d be a start for a young
man ! Why, my fust fight was for five shillings in
Tott'nam Fields ; and proud I was when I won it. I
dont want to set you on to fight a crack like Sam
Ducket anyway against your inclinations ; but dont go
to say that money isnt to be had. Let Ned Skene pint
to a young man and say, 'That's the young man that
Ned backs ' ; and others'll come forard with the stakes
— aye, crowds of em."

The novice hesitated. " Do you think I ought to,
Ned ? " he said.

" That aint for me to say," said Skene doggedly. " I
know what I would ha' said at your age. But perhaps
youre right to be cautious. I tell you the truth, I
wouldnt care to see you whipped by the like of Sam
Ducket."

" Will you train me if I challenge him ? "

" Will I train you ! " echoed Skene, rising with
enthusiasm. " Aye will I train you, and put my money
on you too ; and you shall knock fireworks out of him,
my boy, as sure as my name's Ned Skene."

" Then," cried the novice, reddening with excitement,
"I'll fight him. And if I lick him, you will have to
hand over your belt as champion of the colonies to me."

" So I will," said Skene affectionately. " Dont stay
out late ; and dont for your life touch a drop of liquor.
You must go into training to-morrow."

This was Cashel Byron's first professional engagement.

END OF THE PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

WILTSTOKEN CASTLE was a square building with circular
bastions at the corners : each bastion terminating skyward
in a Turkish minaret. The south-west face was the
front, pierced by a Moorish arch fitted with glass doors,
which could be secured on occasion by gates of fantastic-
ally hammered iron. The arch was enshrined by a
Palladian portico, which rose to the roof, and was sur-
mounted by an open pediment, in the cleft of which
stood a black marble figure of an Egyptian, erect, and
gazing steadfastly at the midday sun. On the ground
beneath was an Italian terrace with two great stone
elephants at the ends of the balustrade. The windows
of the upper storey were, like the entrance, Moorish ;
but the principal ones below were square bays, mullioned.
The castle was considered grand by the illiterate ; but
architects, and readers of books on architecture, con-
demned it as a nondescript mixture of styles in the worst
possible taste. It stood on an eminence surrounded by
hilly woodland, thirty acres of which were enclosed as
Wiltstoken Park. Half a mile south was the little town
of Wiltstoken, accessible by rail from London in about
two hours.

Most of the inhabitants of Wiltstoken were Con-
servatives. They stood in awe of the Castle ; and some
of them would at any time have cut half a dozen of

28 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. I

their oldest friends to obtain an invitation to dinner, or
even a bow in public, from Miss Lydia Carew, its orphan
mistress. This Miss Carew was a remarkable person.
She had inherited the Castle and park from her aunt,
who had considered her niece's large fortune in railways
and mines incomplete without land. So many other
legacies had Lydia received from kinsfolk who hated
poor relations, that she was now, in her twenty- fifth
year, the independent possessor of an annual income
equal to the year's earnings of five hundred workmen,
and under no external compulsion to do anything in
return for it. In addition to the advantage of being a
single woman with unusually large means, she enjoyed
a reputation for vast learning and exquisite culture. It
was said in Wiltstoken that she knew forty-eight living
languages and all the dead ones ; could play on every
known musical instrument; was an accomplished painter;
and had written poetry. All this might as well have
been true as far as the Wiltstokeners were concerned,
since she knew more than they. She had spent her life
travelling with her father, a man of active mind and bad
digestion, with an independent income, and a taste for
sociology, science in general, and the fine arts. On
these subjects he had written books, mostly about the
Renaissance, by which he had earned a reputation as a
sort of culture merchant for tourists. They involved
much reading, travelling, sight-seeing, and theorizing, of
all which, except the theorizing, his daughter had done
her share, and indeed, as she grew more competent, and
he weaker and older, more than her share. Having had
to combine health-hunting with culture-distillation, and
being very irritable and fastidious, he had schooled
her in self-control and endurance by harder lessons
than those which had made her acquainted with the
works of Greek and German philosophers long before

Chap. I Cashel Byron's Profession 29

she understood the English into which she translated
them.

When Lydia was in her twenty-first year, her father's
health failed seriously. He became more dependent on
her ; and she anticipated that he would also become
more exacting in his demands on her time. But one
day, at Naples, she had arranged to go riding with a
newly arrived and rather pleasant English party. Shortly
before the appointed hour, he asked her to make a
translation of a long extract from Lessing. Lydia,
in whom self- questionings as to the justness of her
father's yoke had for some time been stirring, paused
thoughtfully for perhaps two seconds before she con-
sented. Carew said nothing ; but he presently inter-
cepted a servant who was bearing an apology to the
English party; read the note; and went back to his
daughter, who was already busy at Lessing.

" Lydia," he said, with a certain hesitation which she
would have ascribed to shyness had that been at all
credible of her father when addressing her : cc I wish you
never to postpone your business to literary trifling."

She looked at him with the vague fear that accom-
panies a new and doubtful experience ; and he, dissatisfied
with his way of putting the case, added, " It is of greater
importance that you should enjoy yourself for an hour
than that my book should be advanced. Far greater ! "

Lydia, after some consideration, put down her pen
and said, "I shall not enjoy riding if there is anything
else left undone."

" I shall not enjoy your writing if your excursion is
given up for it," he said. " I prefer your going."

Lydia obeyed silently. An odd thought struck her
that she might end the matter gracefully by kissing him.
But they were unaccustomed to make demonstrations of
this kind ; so nothing came of the impulse. She spent

30 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. I

the day on horseback ; reconsidered her late rebellious
thoughts ; and made the translation in the evening.

Thenceforth, Lydia had a growing sense of the power
she had unwittingly been acquiring during her long
subordination. Timidly at first, and more boldly as she
became used to dispense with the parental leading strings,
she began to follow her own bent in selecting subjects
for study, and even to defend certain recent develop-
ments in music and painting against her father's con-
servatism. He approved of this independent mental
activity on her part, and repeatedly warned her not to
pin her faith more on him than on any other critic.
She once told him that one of her incentives to dis-
agree with him was the pleasure it gave her to find out
ultimately that he was right. He replied gravely,

"That pleases me, Lydia, because I believe you. But
such things are better left unsaid. They seem to belong
to the art of pleasing, which you will perhaps soon be
tempted to practise, because it seems to all young people
easy, well-paid, amiable, and a mark of good breeding.
In truth it is vulgar, cowardly, egotistical, and insincere :
a virtue in a shopman : a vice in a free woman. It is
better to leave genuine praise unspoken than to expose
yourself to the suspicion of flattery."

Shortly after this, at his desire, she spent a season in
London, and went into English polite society, which
she found to be in the main a temple for the worship
of riches and a market for the sale of virgins. Having
become familiar with both the cult and the trade else-
where, she found nothing to interest her except the
English manner of conducting them ; and the novelty
of this soon wore off. She was also incommoded by her
involuntary power of inspiring affection in her own sex.
Impulsive girls she could keep in awe ; but old women,
notably two aunts who had never paid her any attention

Chap. I Cashel Byron's Profession 31

during her childhood, now persecuted her with slavish
fondness, and tempted her by mingled entreaties and
bribes to desert her father and live with them for the
remainder of their lives. Her reserve fanned their long-
ing to have her for a pet ; and, to escape them, she
returned to the continent with her father, and ceased
to hold any correspondence with London. Her aunts
declared themselves deeply hurt ; and Lydia was held to
have treated them very injudiciously ; but when they
died, and their wills became public, it was found that
they had vied with one another in enriching her.

When she was twenty-five years old, the first startling
event of her life took place. This was the death of her
father at Avignon. No endearments passed between
them even on that occasion. She was sitting opposite
to him at the fireside one evening, reading aloud, when
he suddenly said, " My heart has stopped, Lydia. Good-
bye ! " and immediately died. She had some difficulty
in quelling the tumult that arose when the bell was
answered. The whole household felt bound to be over-
whelmed, and took it rather ill that she seemed neither
grateful to them nor disposed to imitate their behaviour.

Carew's relatives agreed that he had made a most
unbecoming will. It was a brief document, dated five
years before his death, and was to the effect that he
bequeathed to his dear daughter Lydia all he possessed.
He had, however, left her certain private instructions.
One of these, which excited great indignation in his
family, was that his body should be conveyed to Milan,
and there cremated. Having disposed of her father's
remains as he had directed, she came to set her affairs
in order in England, where she inspired much hopeless
passion in the toilers in Lincoln's Inn Fields and Chancery
Lane, and disconcerted her solicitors by evincing a
capacity for business hardly compatible with the docility

32 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. I

they expected from a rich and unprotected young lady.
When all was arranged, and she was once more able to
enjoy a settled tranquillity, she returned to Avignon, and
there discharged her last duty to her father. This was
to open a letter she had found in his desk, inscribed by
his hand, "For Lydia. To be read by her at leisure
when I and my affairs shall be finally disposed of." The
letter ran thus : —

" MY DEAR LYDIA,

" I belong to the great company of dis-
appointed men. But for you, I should now write
myself down a failure like the rest. It is only a few
years since it first struck me that although I had failed
in many vain ambitions with which (having failed) I
need not trouble you now, I had been of some use as a
father. Upon this it came into my mind that you could
draw no other conclusion from the course of our life
together than that I have, with entire selfishness, used
you throughout as my mere amanuensis and clerk, and
that you are under no more obligation to me for your
attainments than a slave is to his master for the strength
which enforced labor has given to his muscles. Lest
I should leave you suffering from so mischievous and
oppressive an influence as a sense of injustice, I now
justify myself to you.

" I have never asked you whether you remember your
mother. Had you at any time broached the subject,
I should have spoken quite freely to you on it ; but as
some wise instinct led you to avoid it, I was content to
let it rest until circumstances such as the present should
render further reserve unnecessary. If any regret at
having known so little of the woman who gave you
birth troubles you, shake it off without remorse. She
was an egotist who could keep neither husband, child,

Chap. I Cashel Byron's Profession 33

servant, nor friend, under the same roof with her. I
speak dispassionately. All my bitter personal feeling
against her is as dead whilst I write as it will be when
you read. I have even come to regard tenderly certain
of her characteristics which you inherit ; so that I can
confidently say that I never, since the perishing of the
infatuation in which I married, felt more kindly towards
her than I do now. I made the best, and she the worst,
of our union for six years ; and then we parted. I
permitted her to give what account of the separation she
pleased, and made her a much more liberal allowance
than she had any right to expect. By these means I
induced her to leave me in undisturbed possession of
you, whom I had already, as a measure of precaution,
carried off to Belgium. The reason why we never
visited England during her lifetime was that she could,
and probably would, have made my previous conduct
and my hostility to popular religion an excuse for wrest-
ing you from me. I need say no more of her, and am
sorry it was necessary to mention her at all.

u I will now tell you what induced me to secure you
for myself. It was not natural affection : I did not love
you then ; and I knew that you would be a serious
encumbrance to me. But having brought you into the
world, and then broken through my engagements with
your mother, I felt bound to see that you should not
suffer for my mistake. Gladly would I have persuaded
myself that she was (as the gossips said) the fittest person
to have charge of you ; but I knew better, and made up
my mind to discharge my responsibility as well as I could
In course of time you became useful to me ; and, as you
know, I made use of you without scruple, but never
without regard to your own advantage. I always kept
a secretary to do whatever I considered mere copyist's
work. Much as you did for me, I think I may say with

D

34 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.i

truth that I never imposed a task of no educational value
on you. I fear you found the hours you spent over my
money affairs very irksome ; but I need not apologize for
that now : you must already know by experience how
necessary a knowledge of business is to the possessor of a
large fortune.

" I did not think, when I undertook your education,
that I was laying the foundation of any comfort for my-
self. For a long time you were only a good girl, and
what ignorant people called a prodigy of learning. In
your circumstances a commonplace child might have been
both. I subsequently came to contemplate your existence
with a pleasure which I never derived from the con-
templation of my own. I have not succeeded, and shall
not succeed in expressing the affection I feel for you, or
the triumph with which I find that what I undertook as
a distasteful and thankless duty has rescued my life and
labor from waste. My literary travail, much as it has
occupied us both, I now value only for the share it has
had in educating you ; and you will be guilty of no dis-
loyalty to me when you come to see that though I sifted
as much sand as most men, I found no gold. I ask you
to remember then that I did my duty to you long before
it became pleasurable or even hopeful. And, when you
are older and have learned from your mother's friends how
I failed in my duty to her, you will perhaps give me some
credit for having conciliated the world for your sake by
abandoning habits and acquaintances which, whatever
others may have thought of them, did much whilst they
lasted to make life endurable to me.

" Although your future will not concern me, I often
find myself thinking of it. I fear you will soon find
that the world has not yet provided a place and a sphere
of action for well-instructed women. In my younger
days, when the companionship of my fellows was a

Chap. I Cashel Byron's Profession 35

necessity to me, I tried to set aside my culture ; relax my
principles ; and acquire common tastes, in order to fit
myself for the society of the only men within my reach ;
for, if I had to live among bears, I had rather be a bear
than a man. The effort made me more miserable than
any other mistake I have ever made. It was lonely to be
myself; but not to be myself was death in life. Take
warning, Lydia : do not be tempted to accommodate
yourself to the world by moral suicide.

" Some day, I expect and hope, you will marry. You
will then have an opportunity of making an irremediable
mistake, against the possibility of which no advice of
mine or subtlety of yours can guard you. I think you
will not easily find a man able to satisfy in you that
desire to be relieved of the responsibility of thinking out
and ordering our course of life that makes us each long
for a guide whom we can thoroughly trust. If you fail,
remember that your father, after suffering a bitter and
complete disappointment in his wife, yet came to regard
his marriage as the only fruitful event in his career. Let
me remind you also, since you are so rich, that you need
not, in jealousy of your own income, limit your choice of
a husband to those already too rich to marry for money.
No vulgar adventurer, I hope, will be able to recommend
himself to you ; and better men will be at least as much
frightened as attracted by your wealth. The only class
against which I need warn you is that to which I myself
am supposed to belong. Never think that a man must
prove a suitable and satisfying friend for you merely
because he has read much criticism ; that he must feel
the influences of Art as you do, because he knows and
adopts the classification of names and schools with which
you are familiar ; or that because he agrees with your
favourite authors he must necessarily interpret their words
to himself as you understand them. Beware of men who

36 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.l

have read more than they have worked, or who love to
read better than to work. Do not forget that where the
man is always at home, the woman is never happy.
Beware of painters, poets, musicians, and artists of all
sorts, except very great artists ; beware even of them as
husbands and fathers. Self-satisfied workmen who have
learnt their business well, whether they be chancellors of
the exchequer or farmers, I recommend to you as, on the
whole, the most tolerable class of men I have met.

" I shall make no further attempt to advise you. As
fast as my counsels rise to my mind follow reflections
that convince me of their futility.

" You may perhaps wonder why I never said to you
what I have written down here. I have tried to do so
and failed. If I understand myself aright, I have written
these lines mainly to relieve a craving to express my
affection for you. The awkwardness which an over-
civilized man experiences in admitting that he is some-
thing more than an educated stone prevented me from
confusing you by demonstrations of a kind I had never
accustomed you to. Besides, I wish this assurance of my
love — my last word — to reach you when no further
commonplaces to blur the impressiveness of its simple
truth are possible.

" I know I have said too much ; and I feel that I
have not said enough. But the writing of this letter has
been a difficult task. Practised as I am with my pen, I
have never, even in my earliest efforts, composed with
such labor and sense of inadequacy "

Here the manuscript broke off. The letter had never
been finished.

CHAPTER II

IN the month of May, seven years after the flight of the
two boys from Moncrief House, a lady sat in an island
of shadow made by a cedar tree in the midst of a glitter-
ing green lawn. She did womanly to avoid the sun ; for
her complexion was as delicately tinted as mother-of-
pearl. She was a small, graceful woman with sensitive
lips and nostrils, green eyes with quiet unarched brows,
and ruddy gold hair, now shaded by a large untrimmed
straw hat. Her dress of Indian muslin, with half sleeves
ending in wide ruffles at the elbows, hardly covered her
shoulders, where it was supplemented by a fleecy white
scarf which made a nest of soft woollen lace for her
throat. She was reading a little ivory-bound volume —
a miniature edition of the second part of Goethe's
"Faust."

As the afternoon wore on and the light mellowed, the
lady dropped her book and began to think and dream,
unconscious of a prosaic black object crossing the lawn
towards her. This was a young gentleman in a frock
coat. He was dark, and had a long, grave face, with a
reserved expression, but not ill-looking.

" Going so soon, Lucian ? " said the lady, looking up
as he came into the shadow.

Lucian looked at her wistfully. His name, as she
uttered it, always stirred him vaguely. He was fond of

38 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

finding reasons for things, and had long ago decided that
this inward stir was due to her fine pronunciation. His
other intimates called him Looshn.

" Yes," he said. " I have arranged everything, and
have come to give an account of my stewardship, and to
say good-bye."

He placed a garden chair near her and sat down. She
laid her hands one on the other in her lap, and composed
herself to listen.

" First," he said, " as to the Warren Lodge. It is let
for a month only ; so you can allow Mrs. GofF to have
it rent free in July if you wish to. I hope you will not
act so unwisely."

She smiled, and said, " Who are the present tenants ?
I hear that they object to the dairymaids and men cross-
ing the elm vista."

"We must not complain of that. It was expressly
stipulated when they took the lodge that the vista should
be kept private for them. I had no idea at that time
that you were coming to the castle, or I should of course
have declined such a condition."

"But we do keep it private tor them : strangers are
not admitted. Our people pass and repass once a day on
their way to and from the dairy : that is all."

" It seems churlish, Lydia ; but this is a special case —
a young gentleman who has come to recruit his health.
He needs daily exercise in the open air ; but he cannot
bear observation: indeed I have not seen him myself;
and he has only a single attendant with him. Under
these circumstances, I agreed that they should have the
sole use of the elm vista. In fact they are paying more
rent than would be reasonable without this privilege."

" I hope the young gentleman is not mad."

" I satisfied myself, before I let the lodge to him, that
he would be a proper tenant," said Lucian, with reproach-

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 39

ful gravity. " He was strongly recommended to me by
Lord Worthington, who spoke quite warmly of him. As
it happens, I expressed to him the suspicion you have just
suggested. Worthington vouched for the tenant's sanity
as well as for his solvency, and offered to take the lodge
in his own name and be personally responsible for the
good behavior of the invalid. You need have no fear : it
is only some young fellow who has upset his nerves by
hard reading. Probably some college friend of Worth-
ington's."

"Perhaps so. But I should expect a college friend
of Lord Worthington's to be a hard rider or drinker
rather than a hard reader."

"You may be quite at ease, Lydia. I took Lord
Worthington at his word so far as to make the letting to
him."

" I am quite satisfied, Lucian ; and I am greatly
obliged to you. I will give orders that no one is to go
to the dairy by way of the warren."

"The next point," resumed Lucian, "is more im-
portant, as it concerns you personally. Miss Goff is
willing to accept your offer. And a most unsuitable
companion she will be for you ! "

"Why, Lucian?"

"On all accounts. She is younger than you, and
therefore cannot chaperone you. She has received only
an ordinary education ; and her experience of society is
derived from local subscription balls. And as she is not
unattractive, and is considered a beauty in Wiltstoken,
she is self-willed, and will probably take your patronage
in bad part."

"Is she more self-willed than I ? "

" You are not self-willed, Lydia ; except that you are
deaf to advice."

"You mean that I seldom follow it. And so you

40 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

think I had better employ a professional companion — a
decayed gentlewoman — than save this young girl from
going out as a governess and beginning to decay at
twenty-three ? "

" The business of getting a suitable companion, and
the duty of relieving poor people, are two different things,
Lydia."

" True, Lucian. When will Miss Goff call ? "

" This evening. Mind : nothing is settled as yet. If
you think better of it on seeing her, you have only to
treat her as an ordinary visitor, and the subject will drop.
For my own part, I prefer her sister ; but she will not
leave Mrs. Goff, who has not yet recovered from the
shock of her husband's death."

Lydia looked reflectively at the little volume in her
hand, and seemed to think out the question of Miss
Goff. When she looked up again it was evidently settled ;
but she said nothing.

" Well ? " said Lucian presently, embarrassed by her
silence.

" Well ? " said Lydia, not at all embarrassed.

" You have not said anything."

" I have nothing to say."

" Then," said Lucian shortly, giving way to a sense
of injury, " I had better go."

"Not at all," said Lydia. "I am enjoying your
company in the Wiltstoken way. When two of our
laborers here are friends, how do they shew it ? They
lean on the same gate for hours together every Sunday
morning without exchanging a word. Surely thats
better than the nervous horror of silence and self-con-
sciousness called society in our unfortunate circle."

" You have such extraordinary ideas, Lydia ! An
agricultural laborer is silent just as a dog is silent."

" Dogs are very good company," said Lydia.

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 41

To this he found nothing to say. The only relation
to a woman in which he felt happy was one of intellectual
condescension and explanation. Lydia never questioned
his explanations ; but as she did not draw the same moral
from them, he seldom felt that they had been successful.
As to maintaining a silence with her on the agricultural
laborers' lines, that was beyond his utmost power of
self-possession. He had to plead his train and say good-
bye.

She gave him her hand ; and a dull glow came into
his gray jaws as he took it. Then he buttoned his coat
and walked gravely away. As he went, she watched the
sun flashing from his glossy hat, and drowning in his
respectable coat. She sighed, and took up Goethe again.

But after a little while she tired of sitting still, and
rose and wandered through the park for nearly an hour,
trying to find the places where she had played in her
childhood during a visit to her late aunt. She recognized
a great toppling Druid's altar that had formerly reminded
her of Mount Sinai threatening to fall on the head of
Christian in " The Pilgrim's Progress." Further on she
saw and avoided a swamp in which she had once earned a
scolding from her nurse by filling her stockings with
mud. Then she found herself in a long avenue of green
turf, running east and west, and apparently endless.
This seemed the most delightful of all her possessions ;
and she had begun to plan a pavilion to build near it,
when she suddenly recollected that this must be the elm
vista of which the privacy was so stringently insisted
upon by her invalid tenant at the Warren Lodge. She
fled into the wood at once, and, when she was safe there,
laughed at the oddity of being a trespasser in her own
domain. A wide detour was needed to avoid intruding
again : consequently, after walking a little time, she lost
herself. The trees seemed never-ending : she began to

42 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

think she must possess a forest as well as a park. At last
she saw an opening. Hastening towards it, she came
again into the sunlight, and stopped, dazzled by an
apparition which she at first took to be a beautiful statue,
but presently recognized, with a strange glow of delight,
as a living man.

To so mistake a gentleman exercising himself in the
open air on a nineteenth century afternoon would, under
ordinary circumstances, imply incredible ignorance either
of men or statues. But the circumstances in Miss Carew's
case were not ordinary ; for the man was clad in a jersey
and knee breeches of white material ; and his bare arms
shone like those of a gladiator. His broad pectoral
muscles, in their white covering, were like slabs of
marble. Even his hair, short, crisp, and curly, seemed
like burnished bronze in the evening light. It came into
Lydia's mind that she had disturbed an antique god in
his sylvan haunt. The fancy was only momentary ; for
her next glance fell on a third person, a groom-like man,
impossible to associate with classic divinity, contemplat-
ing his companion much as a groom might contemplate
an exceptionally fine horse. He was the first to see
Lydia ; and his expression as he did so plainly shewed
that he regarded her as a most unwelcome intruder. The
statue-man, following his sinister look, saw her too, but
with different feelings ; for his lips parted j his color
rose ; and he stared at her with undisguised admiration
and wonder. Lydia's first impulse was to turn and fly ;
her next, to apologize for her presence. Finally she
went away quietly through the trees.

The moment she was out of their sight, she increased
her pace almost to a run. The day was warm for rapid
movement ; and she soon stopped and listened. There
were the usual woodland sounds : leaves rustling, grass-
hoppers chirping, and birds singing j but not a human

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 43

voice or footstep. She began to think that the god-like
figure was only the Hermes of Praxiteles, suggested to
her by Goethe's classical Sabbat, and changed by a day-
dream into the semblance of a living reality. The groom
must have been one of those incongruities characteristic
of dreams — probably a reminiscence of Lucian's state-
ment that the tenant of the Warren Lodge had a single
male attendant. It was impossible that this glorious
vision of manly strength and beauty could be sub-
stantially a student broken down by excessive study.
That irrational glow of delight too was one of the
absurdities of dreamland : otherwise she should have been
ashamed of it.

Lydia made her way back to the Castle in some alarm
as to the state of her nerves, but dwelling on her vision
with a pleasure that she would not have ventured to
indulge had it concerned a creature of flesh and blood.
Once or twice it recurred to her so vividly that she asked
herself whether it could have been real. But a little
reasoning convinced her that it must have been an
hallucination.

u If you please, madam," said one of her staff of
domestics, a native of Wiltstoken, who stood in deep
awe of the lady of the Castle, "Miss Goff is waiting for
you in the drawing-room."

The drawing-room of the Castle was a circular apart-
ment, with a dome- shaped ceiling broken into gilt
ornaments resembling thick bamboos, which projected
vertically downward like stalagmites. The heavy
chandeliers were loaded with flattened brass balls,
magnified facsimiles of which crowned the uprights of
the low, broad, massively -framed chairs, covered in
leather stamped with Japanese dragon designs in copper-
coloured metal. Near the fireplace was a bronze bell
of Chinese shape, mounted like a mortar on a black

44 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

wooden carriage for use as a coal-scuttle. The wall
was decorated with large gold crescents on a ground of
light blue.

In this barbaric rotunda Miss Carew found awaiting
her a young lady of twenty-three, with a well-developed,
resilient figure, and a clear complexion, porcelain surfaced,
and with a fine red in the cheeks. The lofty pose of her
head expressed the habitual sense of her own consequence
given her by the admiration of the youth of the neighbor-
hood, which was also, perhaps, the cause of the neatness
of her inexpensive black dress and of her irreproachable
gloves, boots, and hat. She had been waiting to introduce
herself to the lady of the Castle for ten minutes in a state
of nervousness that culminated as Lydia entered.

"How do you do, Miss Goff? Have I kept you
waiting ? I was out."

"Not at all," said Miss GofF, with a confused im-
pression that red hair was aristocratic, and dark brown
(the color of her own) vulgar. She had risen to shake
hands, and now, after hesitating a moment to consider
what etiquette required her to do next, resumed her seat.
Miss Carew sat down too, and gazed thoughtfully at her
visitor, who held herself rigidly erect, and, striving to
mask her nervousness, unintentionally looked disdainfuL

" Miss GofF," said Lydia, after a silence that made her
speech impressive : " will you come to me on a long visit ?
In this lonely place, I am greatly in want of a friend and
companion of my own age and position. I think you
must be equally so."

Alice GorF was very young, and very determined to
accept no credit that she did not deserve. She proceeded
to set Miss Carew right as to her social position, not
considering that the lady of the Castle probably under-
stood it better than she did herself, and indeed thinking
it quite natural that she should be mistaken.

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 45

" You are very kind," she replied stiffly ; " but our
positions are quite different, Miss Carew. The fact is
that I cannot afford to live an idle life. We are very
poor ; and my mother is partly dependent on my
exertions."

" I think you will be able to exert yourself to good
purpose if you come to me," said Lydia, unimpressed.
" It is true that I shall give you very expensive habits ;
but I will also enable you to support them."

" I do not wish to contract expensive habits," said
Alice, reproachfully. " I shall have to content myself
with frugal ones throughout my life."

" Not necessarily. Tell me frankly : how had you
proposed to exert yourself ? As a teacher, was it not ? "

Alice flushed, but assented.

" You are not at all fitted for it ; and you will end by
marrying. As a teacher you could not marry well. As
an idle lady, with expensive habits, you will marry very
well indeed. It is quite an art to know how to be rich —
an indispensable art, if you mean to marry a rich man."

" I have no intention of marrying," said Alice loftily.
She thought it time to check this cool aristocrat. " If I
come at all, I shall come without any ulterior object."

"That is just what I had hoped. Come without
conditions or second thought of any kind."

"But " began Alice, and stopped, bewildered by

the pace at which the negotiation was proceeding. She
murmured a few words, and waited for Lydia to proceed.
But Lydia had said her say, and evidently expected a
reply, though she seemed assured of having her own way,
whatever Alice's views might be.

"I do not quite understand, Miss Carew. What
duties ? — what would you expect of me ? "

"A great deal," said Lydia gravely. "Much more
than I should from a mere professional companion."

46 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

" But I shall be a professional companion," protested
Alice.

"Whose?"

Alice flushed again, angrily this time. "I did not

mean to sa-

IV-

" You do not mean to say that you will have nothing
to do with me," said Lydia, stopping her quietly.
"Why are you so scrupulous, Miss GofF? You will
be close to your home, and can return to it at any
moment if you become dissatisfied with your position
here."

Fearful that she had disgraced herself by bad manners ;
loth to be taken possession of as if her wishes were of no
consequence when a rich lady's whim was to be gratified ;
suspicious — since she had often heard gossiping tales of
the dishonesty of people in high positions — lest she should
be cheated out of the substantial salary she had come
resolved to demand ; and withal unable to defend herself
against Miss Carew, Alice caught at the first excuse that
occurred to her.

" I should like a little time to consider," she said.

" Time to accustom yourself to me, is it not ? You
can have as long as you plea "

"Oh, I can let you know to-morrow," interrupted
Alice, officiously.

" Thank you. I will send a note to Mrs. GofF to say
that she need not expect you back until to-morrow."

" But I did not mean I am not prepared to stay,"

remonstrated Alice, feeling more and more entangled in
Lydia's snare.

" We shall take a walk after dinner, then, and call at
your house, where you can make your preparations. But
I think I can lend you all you will require."

Alice dared make no further objection. "I am
afraid," she stammered, "you will think me horribly

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 47

rude ; but I am so useless, and you are so sure to be
disappointed, that — that —

" You are not rude, Miss Goff ; but I find you very
shy. You want to run away and hide from new faces
and new surroundings."

Alice, who was self-possessed and even overbearing in
Wiltstoken society, felt that she was misunderstood, but
did not know how to vindicate herself.

Lydia resumed. " I have formed my habits in the
course of my travels, and so live without ceremony. We
dine early — at six."

Alice had dined at two, but did not feel bound to
confess it.

" Let me shew you your room," said Lydia, rising.
" This is a curious drawing-room," she added, glancing
around. UI have never used it before." She looked
about her again with some interest, as if the apartment
belonged to some one else ; and then led the way to a
room on the first floor, furnished as a lady's bed-chamber.
"If you dislike this," she said, "or cannot arrange it to
suit you, there are others, of which you can have your
choice. Come to my boudoir when you are ready."

" Where is that ? " said Alice anxiously.

" It is — You had better ring for some one to shew
you. I will send you my maid."

Alice, even more afraid of the maid than of the
mistress, declined hastily. "I am accustomed to
attend to myself, Miss Carew," she added, with proud
humility.

" You will find it more convenient to call me Lydia,"
said Miss Carew. " Otherwise you will be supposed to
refer to my grand-aunt, a very old lady." She then left
the room.

Alice was fond of thinking that she had a womanly
taste and touch in making a room pretty. She was

48 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

accustomed to survey with pride her mother's drawing-
room, which she had garnished with cheap cretonnes,
Japanese paper fans, and nic-nacs in ornamental pottery.
She felt now that if she slept once in the bed before her,
she could never be content in her mother's house again.
All that she had read and believed of the beauty of cheap
and simple ornament, and the vulgarity of costliness,
recurred to her as a paraphrase of the " Sour grapes " of
the fox in the fable. She pictured to herself with a
shudder the effect of a sixpenny Chinese umbrella in that
fireplace, a cretonne valance to that bed, or chintz
curtains to those windows. There was in the room a
series of mirrors consisting of a great glass in which she
could see herself at full length, another framed in the
carved oaken dressing table, and smaller ones of various
shapes fixed to jointed arms that turned every way. To
use them for the first time was like having eyes in the
back of one's head. She had never seen herself from all
points of view before. As she gazed, she strove not to
be ashamed of her dress ; but even her face and figure,
which usually afforded her unqualified delight, seemed
robust and middle-class in Miss Carew's mirrors.

" After all," she said, seating herself on a chair that was
even more luxurious to rest in than to look at ; " putting
the lace out of the question — and my old lace that
belongs to mamma is quite as valuable — her whole dress
cannot have cost much more than mine. At any rate, it
is not worth much more, whatever she may have chosen
to pay for it."

But Alice was clever enough to envy Miss Carew her
manners more than her dress. She would not admit to
herself that she was not thoroughly a lady ; but she felt
that Lydia, in the eye of a stranger, would answer that
description better than she. Still, as far as she had
observed, Miss Carew was exceedingly cool in her pro-

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 49

ceedings, and did not take any pains to please those with
whom she conversed. Alice had often made compacts of
friendship with young ladies, and had invited them to
call her by her Christian name ; but on such occasions
she had always called them " dear " or " darling," and,
whilst the friendship lasted, which was often longer than
a month, had never met them without exchanging an
embrace and a hearty kiss.

" And nothing," she said, springing from the chair as
she thought of this, and speaking very resolutely, " shall
tempt me to believe that there is anything vulgar in
sincere affection. I shall be on my guard against this
woman."

Having settled that matter for the present, she went
on with her examination of the room, and was more and
more attracted by it as she proceeded. For, thanks to
her eminence as a local beauty, she had not that fear of
beautiful and rich things which renders abject people in-
capable of associating costliness with comfort. Had the
counterpane of the bed been her own, she would un-
hesitatingly have converted it into a ball dress. There
were toilet appliances of which she had never felt the
need, and could only guess the use. She looked with
despair into the two large closets, thinking how poor a
show her three dresses, her ulster, and her few old
jackets would make there. There was also a dressing-
room with a marble bath that made cleanliness a luxury
instead of, as it seemed at home, one of the sternest of
the virtues. Everything was appropriately elegant ; but
nothing had been placed in the rooms for the sake of
ornament alone. Miss Carew, judged by her domestic
arrangements, was a utilitarian before everything. There
was a very handsome chimneypiece ; but as there was
nothing on the mantelshelf, Alice made a faint effort to
believe that it was inferior in point of taste to that in her

£

50 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. II

own bedroom, which was covered with blue cloth, bordered
by a fringe and a row of brass-headed nails, and laden
with photographs in plush frames.

The striking of the hour reminded her that she had
forgotten to prepare for dinner. She hastily took off her
hat ; washed her hands ; spent another minute among
the mirrors ; and was summoning courage to ring the
bell, when a doubt occurred to her. Ought she to put
on her gloves before going down or not ? This kept her
in perplexity for many seconds. At last she resolved to
put her gloves in her pocket, and be guided as to their
further disposal by the example of her hostess. Not
daring to hesitate any longer, she rang the bell, and was
presently joined by a French lady of polished manners —
Miss Carew's maid — who conducted her to the boudoir,
an hexagonal apartment that, Alice thought, a sultana
might have envied. Lydia was there, reading. Alice
noted with relief that she had not changed her dress, and
was ungloved.

Miss Goff did not enjoy the dinner. There was a
butler who seemed to have nothing to do but stand at
a buffet and watch her. There was also a swift, noiseless
footman who presented himself at her elbow at intervals,
and compelled her to choose on the instant between un-
familiar things to eat and drink. She envied these men
their knowledge of society, and shrank from their
criticism. Once, after taking a piece of asparagus in
her hand, she was deeply mortified to see her hostess
consume the vegetable with the aid of a knife and fork ;
but the footman's back was turned to her just then ; and
the butler, oppressed by the heat of the weather, was in
a state of abstraction bordering on slumber. On the
whole, by dint of imitating Miss Carew, who did not
plague her with any hostess-like vigilance, she came off
without discredit to her breeding.

Chap. II Cashel Byron's Profession 51

Lydia, on her part, acknowledged no obligation to
entertain her guest by chatting, and enjoyed her thoughts
and her dinner in silence. Alice began to be fascinated
by her, and to wonder what she was thinking about.
She fancied that the footman was not quite free from the
same influence. Even the butler might have been
meditating himself to sleep on the subject. Alice felt
tempted to offer her a penny for her thoughts ; but she
dared not be so familiar as yet. Had the offer been made
and accepted, butler, footman, and guest would have been
plunged into equal confusion by the explanation, which
would have run thus :

" I had a vision of the Hermes of Praxiteles in a sylvan
haunt to-day ; and I am thinking of that "

CHAPTER III

NEXT day Alice accepted Miss Carew's invitation.
Lydia, who seemed to regard all conclusions as foregone
when she had once signified her approval of them, took
the acceptance as a matter of course. Alice thereupon
thought fit to remind her that there were other persons
to be considered. She said,

u I should not have hesitated yesterday but for my
mother. It seems so heartless to leave her."

" You have a sister at home, have you not ? "

cc Yes. But she is not very strong -, and my mother
requires a great deal of attention." Alice paused, and
added in a lower voice, " She has never recovered from
the shock of my father's death."

" Your father is then not long dead ? " said Lydia in
her usual tone.

"Only two years," said Alice coldly. "I hardly
know how to tell my mother that I am going to desert
her."

" Go and tell her to-day, Alice. You need not be
afraid of hurting her. Grief of two years' standing is
only a bad habit."

Alice started, outraged. Her mother's grief was
sacred to her ; and yet it was by her experience of her
mother that she recognized the truth of Lydia's remark,
and felt that it was unanswerable. She frowned ; but

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 53

the frown was lost : Miss Carew was not looking at her.
Then she rose and went to the door, where she stopped
to say,

" You do not know our family circumstances. I will
go now and try to prevail on my mother to let me stay
with you."

"Please come back in good time for dinner," said
Lydia, unmoved. " I will introduce you to my cousin
Lucian Webber : I have just received a telegram from
him. He is coming down with Lord Worthington. I
do not know whether Lord Worthington will come to
dinner or not. He has an invalid friend at the Warren
Lodge ; and Lucian does not make it clear whether he is
coming to visit him or me. However, it is of no conse-
quence : Lord Worthington is only a young sportsman.
Lucian is a clever man, and will be a well-known one some
day. He is secretary to a Cabinet Minister, and is very
busy ; but we shall probably see him often whilst the
Whitsuntide holidays last. Excuse my keeping you
waiting at the door to hear that long history. Adieu ! "
She waved her hand ; and Alice suddenly felt that
it might be possible to become very fond of Miss
Carew.

She spent an unhappy afternoon with her mother. It
had been Mrs. GofFs fortune to marry a man of whom
she was afraid, and who made himself very disagreeable
whenever his house or his children were neglected in the
least particular. Making a virtue of necessity, she had
come to be regarded in Wiltstoken as a model wife and
mother. At last, when a drag ran over Mr. Goff and
killed him, she was left almost penniless, with two
daughters on her hands. In this extremity, she took
refuge in grief, and did nothing. Her daughters settled
their father's affairs as best they could ; moved into a
cheap house ; and procured a strange tenant for that in

54 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

which they had lived during many years. Janet, the
elder sister, a student by disposition, employed herself as
a teacher of the latest fashions in female education,
rumors of which had already reached Wiltstoken.
Alice was unable to teach mathematics and moral
science ; but she formed a dancing class, and gave lessons
in singing and in a language which she believed to be
current in France, but which was not intelligible to
natives of that country travelling through Wiltstoken.
Both sisters were devoted to one another and to their
mother. Alice, who had enjoyed the special affection of
her self-indulgent father, preserved some regard for his
memory, though she could not help wishing that his
affection had been strong enough to induce him to save a
provision for her. She was ashamed, too, of the very
recollection of his habit of getting drunk at races,
regattas, and other national festivals, by an accident at
one of which he had met his death.

Alice went home from the Castle expecting to leave
her family divided between joy at her good fortune and
grief at losing her ; for her views of human nature and
parental feeling were as yet purely romantic. But Mrs.
Goff, at once becoming envious of the luxury her daughter
was about to enjoy, overwhelmed her with accusa-
tions of want of feeling, eagerness to desert her mother,
and vain love of pleasure. Alice, who, in spite of a
stubborn sense of the duty of truth telling, had often told
Mrs. Goff half a dozen lies in one afternoon to spare her
some unpleasant truth, and would have scouted as in-
famous any suggestion that her parent was more selfish
than saintly, soon burst into tears, declaring that she
would not return to the Castle, and that nothing would
have induced her to stay there the night before had she
thought that her doing so could give pain at home.
This alarmed Mrs. Goff, who knew by experience that

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 55

it was easier to drive Alice upon rash resolves than to
shake her in them afterwards. Fear of incurring blame
in Wiltstoken for wantonly opposing her daughter's
interests, and of losing her share of Miss Carew's money
and countenance, got the better of her jealousy. She
lectured Alice severely for her headstrong temper, and
commanded her on her duty not only to her mother, but
also and chiefly to her God, to accept Miss Carew's offer
with thankfulness, and to insist upon a definite salary as
soon as she had, by good behavior, made her society
indispensable at the Castle. Alice, dutiful as she was,
reduced Mrs. Goff to entreaties, and even to symptoms
of an outburst of violent grief for the late Mr. Goff,
before she consented to obey her. She would wait, she
said, until Janet, who was absent teaching, came in, and
promised to forgive her for staying away the previous
night (Mrs. Goff had falsely represented that Janet,
deeply hurt, had lain awake weeping during the small
hours of the morning). The mother, seeing nothing for
it but either to get rid of Alice before Janet's return, or
be detected in a spiteful untruth, had to pretend that
Janet was spending the evening with some friends, and
to urge the unkindness of leaving Miss Carew lonely.
At last Alice washed away the traces of her tears,
and returned to the Castle, feeling very miserable, and
trying to comfort herself with the reflection that
her sister had been spared the scene which had just
passed.

Lucian Webber had not arrived when she reached the
Castle. Miss Carew glanced at her melancholy face as
she entered, but asked no questions* Presently, however,
she put down her book ; considered for a moment ; and
said,

" It is nearly three years since I have had a new dress."
Alice looked up with interest. " Now that I have you

56 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

to help me to choose, I think I will be extravagant
enough to renew my entire wardrobe. I wish you
would take this opportunity to get some things for
yourself. You will find that my dressmaker, Madame
Smith, is to be depended on for work, though she
is expensive and dishonest. When we are tired of
Wiltstoken we can go to Paris, and be millinered
there ; but in the meantime we can resort to Madame
Smith."

" I cannot afford expensive dresses," said Alice.

u I should not ask you to get them if you could not
afford them. I warned you that I should give you
expensive habits."

Alice hesitated. She had a healthy inclination to take
whatever she could get on all occasions ; and she had
suffered too much from poverty not to be more thankful
for her good fortune than humiliated by Miss Carew's
bounty. But the thought of being driven, richly attired,
in one of the Castle carriages, and meeting Janet
trudging about her daily tasks in a cheap black serge and
mended gloves, made Alice feel that she deserved all her
mother's reproaches. However, it was obvious that a
refusal would be of no material benefit to Janet ; so she
said,

"Really I could not think of imposing on your
kindness in this wholesale fashion. You are too good
to me."

" I will write to Madame Smith this evening," said
Lydia.

Alice was about to renew her protest more faintly,
when Mr. Webber was announced. She stiffened herself
to receive the visitor. Lydia's manner did not alter in
the least. Lucian, whose demeanour resembled Miss
GofPs rather than his cousin's, went through the
ceremony of introduction with solemnity, and was

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 57

received with a dash of scorn ; for Alice, though secretly
awe-stricken, bore herself tyrannically towards men from
habit.

In reply to Alice, Mr. Webber thought the day cooler
than yesterday. In reply to Lydia, he admitted that the
resolution of which the Leader of the Opposition had

e'ven notice was tantamount to a vote of censure on the
overnment. He was confident that Ministers would
have a majority. He had no news of any importance.
He had made the journey down with Lord Worthington,
who had come to Wiltstoken to see the invalid at the
Warren Lodge. He had promised to return with Lucian
in the seven-thirty train.

When they went down to dinner, Alice, profiting by
her experience of the day before, faced the servants with
composure, and committed no solecisms. Unable to take
part in the conversation, as she knew nothing of politics,
which were the staple of Lucian's discourse, she sat
silent, and reconsidered an old opinion of hers that it was
ridiculous and ill-bred in a lady to discuss anything that
was in the newspapers. She was impressed by Lucian's
cautious and somewhat dogmatic style of conversation,
and concluded that he knew everything. Lydia seemed
interested in his information, but quite indifferent to his
opinions.

Towards half-past seven, Lydia proposed that they
should walk to the railway station, adding, as a reason for
going, that she wished to learn bookmaking from Lord
Worthington. Lucian looked grave at this j and Alice,
to shew that she shared his notions of propriety, looked
shocked. Neither demonstration had the slightest effect
on Lydia. She led the way to the hall $ took her
untrimmed straw hat and her scarf from a stand there ;
and walked out, gloveless, into the fresh spring evening.
Alice, aghast at these manlike proceedings, and deprived

58 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

of the ten minutes upon which she had counted to pin
on her hat and equip herself for public inspection, had to
rush upstairs and down again with undignified haste.
When she overtook them on the lawn, Lucian was
saying,

" Worthington is afraid of you, Lydia — needlessly, as
it seems."

"Why?"

"Because you know so much more than he does,"
said Lucian, rejoiced by an invitation to explain. a But
perhaps you have more sympathy with his tastes than he
supposes."

" I may explain to you, Alice, that Lord Worthington
is a young gentleman whose calendar is the racing
calendar, and who interests himself in favorites and
outsiders much as Lucian does in prime ministers and
independent radicals. He never reads anything, and never
associates with people who read anything ; so his con-
versation is bearable. Would you like to go to Ascot,
Alice ? "

Alice answered, as she felt Lucian expected her to
answer, that she had never been to a race, and that she
had no desire to go to one.

" You will change your mind in time for next year's
meeting. A race interests every one, which is more than
can be said for the opera or the Academy."

" I have been at the Academy," said Alice, who had
been once with her father to London.

" Indeed ! " said Lydia. " Were you in the National
Gallery ? "

" The National Gallery ! I think not. I forget."

" Did you enjoy the pictures ? "

" Oh, very much indeed."

" You will find Ascot far more amusing."

" Let me warn you," said Lucian to Alice, " that my

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 59

cousin's pet caprice is to affect a distaste for art, to which
she is passionately devoted ; and for literature, in which
she is profoundly read."

" Cousin Lucian," said Lydia : " should you ever be
cut off from your politics, and disappointed in your ambi-
tion, you will have an opportunity of living upon art and
literature. Then I shall respect your opinion of their
satisfactoriness as a staff of life. As yet you have only
tried them as a sauce."

" Discontented, as usual ? " said Lucian.

"Your one idea respecting me, as usual," replied
Lydia with patient impatience, as they entered the
station.

The train, three carriages and a van, was waiting at
the platform. The engine was humming subduedly ; and
the driver and fireman were leaning out : the latter, a
young man, eagerly watching two gentlemen standing
before the first-class carriage ; whilst the driver shared
his curiosity in an elderly, preoccupied manner. One of
the persons thus observed was a bullet-headed little man
of about twenty-five, in the afternoon costume of metro-
politan fashion. Lydia instantly recognized the other as
the Hermes of the day before, in spite of his straw hat,
canary-coloured scarf, and a suit of minute black-and-
white chessboard pattern, with a crimson silk handkerchief
overflowing the breast pocket of the coat. His hands
were unencumbered by stick or umbrella ; he carried
himself smartly, balancing himself so accurately that he
seemed to have no weight ; and his expression was self-
satisfied and good-humoured. But — ! Lydia felt that
there was a But somewhere about this handsome, power-
ful, and light-hearted young man.

"There is Lord Worthington," she said, indicating
the bullet-headed gentleman. " Surely that cannot be his
invalid friend with him ? "

60 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

" That is the man that lives at the Warren Lodge,"
said Alice. " I know his appearance."

" Which is certainly not suggestive of a valetudinarian,"
remarked Lucian, looking hard at the stranger.

They had now come close to the two, and could
hear Lord Worthington, as he opened the carriage
door to get in, saying, "Take care of yourself, like
a good fellow, wont you ? Remember ! if it lasts a
second over the fifteen minutes, I shall drop five hundred
pounds."

Hermes placed his arm round the shoulders of the
young lord, and gave him an elder-brotherly roll. Then
he said with correct accent and pronunciation, but with a
certain rough quality of voice, and louder than English
gentlemen usually speak : " Your money is as safe as the
Mint, my boy."

Evidently, Alice thought, the stranger was an intimate
friend of Lord Worthington. She resolved to be par-
ticular in her behavior before him, if introduced.

" Lord Worthington," said Lydia.

Startled, he turned and climbed hastily down from the
step of the carriage, saying in some confusion, " How de
do, Miss Carew ? Lovely country and lovely weather —
must agree awfully well with you. You look as if it did."

cc Thank you : I dare say I do. Your friend is a
tenant of mine, I think."

Lord Worthington looked at her with a countenance
that expressed a sudden and vivid dread of detection, and
answered not a word.

"You are going to introduce him to me, are you
not."

* You give me leave to ? " he stipulated.

" Of course," said Lydia. " Is there any reason "

" Oh, not the least in the world, since you wish it,"
he replied quickly, his eyes twinkling mischievously

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 61

as he turned to his companion, who was standing at
the carriage door admiring Lydia, and being himself
admired by the stoker. " Mr. Cashel Byron : Miss
Carew."

Mr. Cashel Byron reddened a little as he raised his
straw hat, but, on the whole, bore himself like an eminent
man who was not proud. As, however, he seemed to
have nothing to say for himself, Lydia set Lord Worth-
ington talking about Ascot, and listened to him whilst
she looked at her new acquaintance. Now that the
constraint of society had banished his former expression
of easy good humor, there was something formidable in
him that gave her an unaccountable thrill of pleasure.
The same impression of latent danger had occurred, less
agreeably, to Lucian, who was affected much as he might
have been by the proximity of a large dog of doubtful
temper. Lydia thought that Mr. Byron did not, at first
sight, like her cousin ; for he was looking at him
obliquely, as though stealthily measuring him.

The group was broken up by the guard calling to
the passengers to take their seats. Farewells were
exchanged ; and Lord Worthington cried, " Take care
of yourself/' to Cashel Byron, who replied somewhat
impatiently, and with an apprehensive glance at Miss
Carew, " All right, all right : never you fear, sir." Then
the train went off; and he was left on the platform with
the two ladies.

" We are returning to the Park, Mr. Cashel Byron,"
said Lydia.

" So am I," said he. " Perhaps " Here he broke

down, and looked at Alice to avoid Lydia's eye. Then
they went out together.

When they had walked some distance in silence :
Alice looking rigidly before her, recollecting with sus-
picion that he had just addressed Lord Worthington

62 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, ill

as " sir " j whilst Lydia was observing his light step and
perfect balance, and trying to read his troubled face,
he said,

" I saw you in the park yesterday ; and I thought you
were a ghost. Old Mellish — my man, I mean — saw you
too. I knew by that that you were genuine."

" Strange ! " said Lydia. " I had the same fancy
about you."

" What ! You had ! " he exclaimed, looking at her.
Whilst thus unmindful of his steps, he stumbled, and
recovered himself with a stifled oath. Then he became
very red, and remarked, to Miss Goff, that it was a warm
evening.

Alice assented. " I hope," she added, cc that you are
better."

He looked puzzled. Concluding, after consideration,
that she had referred to his stumble, he said,

" Thank you : I didnt hurt myself."

" Lord Worthington has been telling us about you,"
said Lydia. He halted suddenly, evidently deeply morti-
fied. She hastened to add, "He mentioned that you
had come down here to recruit your health : that
is all."

Cashel's features relaxed into a curious smile ; and he
walked on again. But presently he became suspicious,
and said anxiously, " He didnt tell you anything else
about me, did he ? "

Alice stared at him superciliously. Lydia replied,
" No. Nothing else."

" I thought you might have heard my name some-
where," he persisted.

" Perhaps I have ; but I cannot recall in what con-
nexion. Why ? Do you know any friends of mine ? "

" Oh no. Only Lord Worthington."

"I conclude then that you are celebrated, and that I

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 63

have the misfortune not to know it, Mr. Cashel Byron.
Is it so ? "

" Not a bit of it," he replied hastily. " There's no
reason why you should ever have heard of me. I am
much obliged to you for your kind inquiries," he con-
tinued, turning to Alice. " I'm quite well now, thank
you. The country has set me right again."

Alice, who was beginning to have her doubts of Mr.
Byron, smiled falsely and drew herself up a little. He
turned away from her, hurt by her manner, and so ill
able to conceal his feelings that Miss Carew, always
watching him, saw what he felt, and knew with delight
that he was turning to her for consolation. He looked
at Lydia wistfully, as if trying to guess her thoughts,
which seemed to be with the setting sun, or in some
equally beautiful and mysterious region. But he could
see that there was no reflection of Miss Goff's scorn in
her face.

" And so you really took me for a ghost ? " he said.

" Yes. At first I thought you were a statue."

« A statue!"

" You do not seem flattered by that."

" It is not flattering to be taken for a lump of stone,"
he replied ruefully.

Here was a man whom she had mistaken for the finest
image of manly strength and beauty known to her ; and
he was so void of artistic culture that he held a statue
to be a distasteful lump of stone.

" I believe I was trespassing then," she said ; u but I
did so unintentionally. I had gone astray ; for I am
comparatively a stranger here, and cannot find my way
about my park yet."

"It didnt matter a bit," said Cashel impetuously.
" Come as often as you want. Mellish fancies that if
any one gets a glimpse of me he wont get any odds.

64 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

You see he would like people to think " Here

Cashel, recollecting himself, broke off, and added in con-
fusion, " Mellish is mad : thats about where it is."

Alice glanced significantly at Lydia. She had already
suggested that madness was the real reason for the seclu-
sion of the tenants at the Warren Lodge. Cashel saw
the glance, and intercepted it by turning to her, and
saying, with an attempt at conversational ease,

" How do you young ladies amuse yourselves in the
country ? Do you play billiards ever ? "

"No," said Alice indignantly. The question, she
thought, implied that she was capable of spending her
evenings on the first floor of a public-house. To her
surprise, Lydia remarked,

" I play — a little. I do not care sufficiently for the
game to make myself proficient. You were equipped for
lawn-tennis, I think, when I saw you yesterday. Miss
GofF is a celebrated lawn-tennis player. She vanquished
the Australian champion last year."

It seemed that Byron, after all, was something of a
courtier ; for he displayed great astonishment at this feat.
" The Australian champion ! " he repeated. " And who

may he Oh ! you mean the lawn-tennis champion.

To be sure. Well, Miss GofF, I congratulate you. It
is not every ammichoor [amateur] that can brag of having
shewn a professional champion to a back seat."

Alice, outraged by the imputation of bragging, and
certain that slang was vulgar, whatever billiards might be,
bore herself still more loftily, and resolved to snub him
explicitly if he addressed her again. But he did not ;
for they came just then to a narrow iron gate in the wall
of the park, at which Lydia stopped.

"Let me open it for you," said Cashel. She gave
him the key ; and he seized one of the bars of the gate
with his left hand, and stooped as though he wanted to

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 65

look into the keyhole. Yet he opened it smartly
enough.

Alice was about to pass in with a cool bow when she
saw Miss Carew offer Cashel her hand. Whatever Lydia
did was done so that it seemed the right thing to do.
He took the hand timidly, and gave it a little shake, not
daring to meet her eyes. Alice put out her glove stiffly.
Cashel immediately stepped forward with his right foot
and enveloped her fingers with the hardest clump of
knuckles she had ever felt. Glancing down at this
remarkable fist, she saw that it was discoloured almost
to blackness. Then she went in through the gate,
followed by Lydia, who turned to close it behind her.
As she pushed, Cashel, standing outside, grasped a bar
and pulled. She at once relinquished to him the shutting
of the gate, and smiled her thanks as she turned away ;
but in that moment he plucked up courage to look at her.
The sensation of being so looked at was quite novel, and
very curious. She was even a little out of countenance,
but not so much so as Cashel, who nevertheless could not
take his eyes away.

"Do you think," said Alice, as they crossed the
orchard, " that that man is a gentleman ? "

" How can I possibly tell ? We hardly know him."

" But what do you think ? There is always a certain
something about a gentleman that one recognizes by
instinct."

" Is there ? I have never observed it."

" Have you not ? " said Alice, surprised, and beginning
uneasily to fear that her superior perception of gentility
was in some way the effect of her social inferiority to Miss
Carew. " I thought one could always tell."

" Perhaps so," said Lydia. " For my own part I have
found the same varieties of address in every class. Some
people, no matter what the style of their particular

F

66 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, ill

set may be, have a native distinction and grace of
manner — "

"That is what I mean," said Alice.

" — but you find that as often among actors, gipsies,
and peasants, as among ladies and gentlemen. One can
make a fair guess with most people, but not with this
Mr. Cashel Byron. Are you curious about him ? "

" I ! " exclaimed Alice superbly. " Not in the least."

" I am. He interests me. I seldom see anything
novel in humanity ; and he is a very singular man."

"I meant," said Alice, crestfallen, "that I take no
special interest in him."

Lydia, not being concerned as to the exact degree of
Alice's interest, merely nodded, and continued, "He
may, as you suppose, be a man of humble origin, who
has seen something of society j or he may be a gentleman
unaccustomed to society. I feel no conviction either
way."

" But he speaks very roughly ; and his slang is dis-
gusting. His hands are hard and quite black. Did you
not notice them ? "

"I noticed it all ; and I think that if he were a man
of low condition he would be careful not to use slang.
Self-made persons are usually precise in their language :
they rarely break the formulated laws of society, whereas
he breaks every. one of them. His pronunciation of some
words is so distinct that an idea crossed me once that he
might be an actor. But then it is not uniformly distinct.
I am sure that he has some object or occupation in life :
he has not the air of an idler. Yet I have thought of all
the ordinary professions ; and he does not fit one of them.
That is perhaps what makes him interesting. He is un-
accountable."

a He must have some position. He was very familiar
with Lord Worthington."

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 67

"Lord Worthington is a sportsman, and is familiar
with all sorts of people."

" Yes ; but surely he would not let a jockey, or any-
body of that class, put his arm round his neck, as we saw
Mr. Byron do."

" Perhaps not," said Lydia thoughtfully. " Still," she
added, clearing her brow and laughing, " I dont believe
he is an invalid student."

"I will tell you what he is," said Alice suddenly.
" He is companion and keeper to the man with whom
he lives. Do you recollect his saying 'Mellish is
mad ' ? "

"That is possible," said Lydia. "At all events we
have got somebody to talk about ; and that is an important
home-comfort in the country."

Just then they reached the Castle. Lydia lingered for
a moment on the terrace. The tall Tudor chimneys of
the Warren Lodge stood up against the long crimson cloud
into which the sun was sinking. She smiled as if some
quaint idea had occurred to her ; raised her eyes for a
moment to the black marble Egyptian gazing with
unwavering eyes into the sky ; and followed Alice
indoors.

Later on, when it was quite dark, Cashel sat in a
spacious kitchen at the lodge, thinking. His companion,
who had laid his coat aside, was at the fire, smoking, and
watching a saucepan that simmered there. He broke the
silence by remarking, after a glance at the clock, " Time
to go to roost."

" Time to go to the devil," said Cashel. "I am going
out."

" Yes, and get a chill. Not if I know it, you dont."

" Well, go to bed yourself ; and then you wont know
it. I want to take a walk round the place."

" If you put your foot outside that door to-night, Lord

68 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

Worthington will lose his five hundred pounds. You
cant lick any one in fifteen minutes if you train on night
air. Get licked yourself, more likely."

"Will you lay two to one that I dont sleep on the
grass and knock the Flying Dutchman out of time in the
first round afterwards ? "

"Come," said Mellish coaxingly : "have some com-
mon sense. I'm advising you for your good."

"Suppose I dont want to be advised for my good.
Eh ? Hand me over that lemon. You neednt start a
speech : I'm not going to eat it."

" Blest if he aint rubbin is ands with it ! " exclaimed
Mellish, after watching him for some moments. " Why,
you bloomin fool, lemon wont arden your ands. Aint
I took enough trouble with them ? "

"I want to whiten them," said Cashel, impatiently
throwing the lemon under the grate ; " but it's no use.
I cant go about with my fists like this. I'll go up to
London to-morrow and buy a pair of gloves."

" What ! Real gloves ? Wearin gloves ? "

" You thundering old lunatic," said Cashel, rising and
putting on his hat : " is it likely that I want a pair of
mufflers ? Perhaps you think you could teach me some-
thing with them. Ha ! ha ! By the bye — now mind
this_> Mellish — dont let it out down here that I'm a fighting
man. Do you hear ? "

" Me let it out ! " cried Mellish indignantly. " Is
it likely ? Now, I asts you, Cashel Byron, is it
likely ? "

"Likely or not, dont do it," said Cashel. "You
might get talking with some of the chaps about the
Castle stables. They are free with their liquor when
they can get sporting news for it."

Mellish looked at him reproachfully ; and Cashel
turned towards the door. The movement reminded

Chap. Ill Cashel Byron's Profession 69

the trainer of his professional duties. He renewed his
remonstrances as to the folly of venturing into the night
air, citing many examples of pugilists who had suffered
defeat through neglecting the counsel of their trainers.
Cashel expressed his disbelief in these anecdotes in brief
and personal terms ; and at last Mellish had to content
himself with proposing to limit the duration of the walk
to half an hour.

"Perhaps I shall come back in half an hour," said
Cashel. "And perhaps I shant."

" Well, look here," said Mellish. " Dont let us two
pals quarrel about a minute or so. I feel the want of a
walk myself ; and I'll come with you."

" I'm damned if you shall," said Cashel. " Here : let
me out ; and shut up. I'm not going further than the
park, I have no intention of making a night of it in the
village, which is what you are afraid of. I know you,
you old dodger. If you dont get out of my way, I'll
seat you on the fire."

"But dooty, Cashel, dooty," pleaded Mellish per-
suasively. " Every man oughter do his dooty. Consider
your dooty to your backers."

"Are you going to get out of my way; or must I put
you out of it ? " said Cashel, reddening ominously.

Mellish went back to his chair ; bowed his head on
his hands ; and wept. " I'd sooner be a dog nor a trainer,"
he sobbed. " Oh ! the cussedness o bein shut up for
weeks with a fightin man ! For the fust two days theyre
as sweet as treacle ; and then their contrairyness comes
out. Their tempers is puffict ell."

Cashel, additionally enraged by a sting of remorse,
went out and slammed the door. He made straight
towards the Castle, and watched its windows for nearly
half an hour, keeping in constant motion so as to avert a
chill. At last a bell struck the hour from one of the

70 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. Ill

minarets. To Cashel, accustomed to the coarse jangling
of ordinary English bells in too low belfries, the sound
seemed to belong to fairyland. He went slowly back to
the Warren Lodge, and found his trainer standing at the
open door, smoking, and anxiously awaiting his return.
Cashel rebuffed his conciliatory advances with a haughty
reserve more dignified but much less acceptable to Mr.
Mellish than his former profane familiarity, and went
thoughtfully to bed.

CHAPTER IV

Miss CAREW sat on the bank of a great pool in the park,
throwing pebbles two by two into the water, and intently
watching the intersection of the circles they made on its
calm surface. Alice, who had rashly begun her com-
panionship by a parade of all her accomplishments, was
sketching the Castle. The woodland rose round them
like the sides of an amphitheatre ; but the trees did
not extend to the water's edge : there was an ample
margin of bright greensward and a narrow belt of gravel,
from which Lydia was picking her pebbles.

Hearing a footstep, she looked back, and saw Cashel
Byron standing behind Alice, apparently much interested
in her drawing. He was dressed as she had last seen
him, except that he wore gorgeous primrose gloves and
an Egyptian red scarf. Alice turned, and surveyed him
with haughty surprise ; but he stood at ease with an
inept swagger ; and she, after glancing at Lydia to
reassure herself that she was not alone, bade him good
morning, and resumed her work.

" Queer place," he remarked, after a pause, alluding
to the Castle. " Chinese looking, isnt it ? "

" It is considered a very fine building," said Alice.

" Oh, hang what it is considered ! " said Cashel.
" What is it ? That is the point to look to."

" It is a matter of taste," said Alice, very coldly.

72 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IV

"Mr. Cashel Byron."

Cashel started and hastened to the bank. " How d'ye
do, Miss Carew," he said. " I didnt see you until
you called me." She looked at him quietly ; and he
quailed, convicted of a foolish falsehood. "There is
a splendid view of the Castle from here," he continued,
to change the subject. "Miss Goff and I have just
been talking about it."

" Yes. Do you admire it ? "

" Very much indeed. It is a beautiful place. Every
one must acknowledge that."

" It is considered kind to praise my house to me, and
to ridicule it to other people. You do not say, ' Hang
what it is considered,' now."

Cashel, with an unaccustomed sense of getting the
worst of an encounter, almost lost heart to reply. Then
he brightened, and said, "I can tell you how that is. As
far as being a place to sketch, or for another person to
look at, it is Chinese enough. But somehow your living
in it makes a difference. That is what I meant : upon
my soul it is."

Lydia smiled ; but he, looking down at her, did not
see the smile because of her coronet of red hair, which
seemed to flame in the sunlight. The obstruction was
unsatisfactory to him : he wanted to see her face. He -
hesitated, and then sat down on the ground beside her
cautiously, as if getting into a very hot bath.

"I hope you wont mind my sitting here," he said
timidly. " It seems rude to talk down at you from a
height."

She shook her head and threw two more stones into
the pool. He could think of nothing further to say ;
and as she did not speak, but gravely watched the circles
in the water, he began to stare at them too ; and they
sat in silence for some minutes, steadfastly regarding the

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 73

waves : she as if there were matter for infinite thought in
them : he as though the spectacle wholly confounded him.
At last she said,

" Have you ever realized what a vibration is ? "

" No," said Cashel, after a blank look at her.

cc I am delighted to hear you confess that. We have
reduced everything nowadays to vibration. Light —
sound — sensation — all are either vibrations or interference
of vibrations. There," she said, throwing another pair
of pebbles in, and pointing to the two sets of widening
rings as they overlapped one another : " the twinkling
of a star, and the pulsation in a chord of music, are that.
But I cannot picture the thing in my own mind. I
wonder whether the hundreds of writers of text-books on
physics, who talk so glibly of vibrations, realize them
any better than I do."

" Not a bit of it. Not one of them. Not half so
well," said Cashel cheerfully, replying to as much of her
speech as he understood.

" Perhaps the subject does not interest you," she said,
turning to him.

" On the contrary : I like it of all things," said he
boldly.

" I can hardly say as much for my own interest in it.
[ am told that you are a student, Mr. Cashel Byron.
What are your favourite studies ? — or rather, since that
is generally a hard question to answer, what are your
pursuits ? "

Alice listened.

Cashel looked doggedly at Lydia, his color slowly
deepening. " I am a professor," he said.

" A professor of what ? I know I should ask of
where ; but that would only elicit the name of a college,
which would convey no real information to me."

" I am a professor of science," said Cashel in a low

74 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IV

voice, looking down at his left fist, which he was
balancing in the air before him, and stealthily hitting
his bent knee as if it were another person's face.

"Physical or moral science ? " persisted Lydia.

" Physical science," said Cashel. " But there's more
moral science in it than people think."

" Yes," said Lydia seriously. " Though I have no
real knowledge of physics, I can appreciate the truth of
that. Perhaps all the science that is not at bottom
physical science, is only formal nescience. I have read
much of physics, and have often been tempted to make
the experiments with my own hands — to furnish a
laboratory — to wield the scalpel even. For to master
science thoroughly, I suppose one must take one's gloves
off. Is that your opinion ? "

Cashel looked hard at her. "You never spoke a
truer word," he said. " But you can become a very
respectable amateur by working with the gloves."

" / never should. The many who believe they are
the wiser for reading accounts of experiments, deceive
themselves. It is as impossible to learn science from
hearsay as to gain wisdom from proverbs. Ah, it is so
easy to follow a line of argument, and so difficult to
grasp the facts that underlie it ! Our popular lecturers
on physics present us with chains of deductions so highly
polished that it is a luxury to let them slip from end to
end through our fingers. But they leave nothing behind
but a vague memory of the sensation they afforded."

"I wish I could talk like that," said Cashel: "—like
a book, I mean."

" Heaven forbid ! " said Lydia. " I beg your pardon
for it. Will you give me some lessons if I set to work
in earnest at science ? "

"Well," said Cashel with a covert grin, "I would
rather you came to me than to another professor j but I

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 75

dont think it would suit you. I should like to try my
hand on your friend there. She's stronger and straighter
than nine out of ten men."

"You set a high value on physical qualifications, then.
So do I."

" Only from a practical point of view, mind you," said
Cashel earnestly. " It isnt right to be always looking at
men and women as you look at horses. If you want
to back them in a race or in a fight, thats one thing ;
but if you want a friend or a sweetheart, thats another."

" Quite so," said Lydia, smiling. " You do not wish
to commit yourself to any warmer feeling towards Miss
Goff than a critical appreciation of her form and
condition."

" Just that," said Cashel, satisfied. " You understand
me, Miss Carew. There are some people that you
might talk to all day, and theyd be no wiser at the end
of it than they were at the beginning. Youre not one
of that sort."

" I wonder do we ever succeed really in communi-
cating our thoughts to one another. A thought must
take a new shape to fit itself into a strange mind. You,
Mr. Professor, must have acquired special experience of
the incommunicability of ideas in the course of your
lectures and lessons."

Cashel looked uneasily at the water, and said in a
lower voice, " Of course you may call me just whatever
you like ; but — if it's all the same to you — I wish you
wouldnt call me Professor."

"I have lived so much in countries where people
expect to be addressed by even the most trivial titles on
all occasions, that I may claim to be excused for having
offended on that point. Thank you for telling me.
But I am to blame for discussing science with you.
Lord Worthington told us that you had come down here

j6 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.iv

expressly to escape from it — to recruit yourself after an
excess of work."

"It doesnt matter," said Cashel.

"I have not done harm enough to be greatly con-
cerned ; but I will not offend again. To change the
subject, let us look at Miss GofPs sketch."

Miss Carew had hardly uttered this suggestion, when
Cashel, in a business-like manner, and without the
slightest air of gallantry, expertly lifted her and placed
her on her feet. This unexpected attention gave her a
shock, followed by a thrill that was not disagreeable.
She turned to him with a faint mantling in her cheeks.

" Thank you," she said ; " but pray do not do that
again. It is a little humiliating to be lifted like a child.
You are very strong."

"There is not much strength needed to lift such a
feather-weight as you. Seven stone two, I should judge
you to be about. But there's a great art in doing these
things properly. I have often had to carry off a man of
fourteen stone, resting him all the time as if he was in
bed."

" Ah," said Lydia : " I see you have had some hospital
practice. I have often admired the skill with which
trained nurses handle their patients."

Cashel, without a word, followed her to where Alice sat.

" It is very foolish of me, I know," said Alice pre-
sently ; " but I never can draw when any one is looking
at me."

"You fancy that everybody is thinking about how
youre doing it," said Cashel, encouragingly. "Thats
always the way with amateurs. But the truth is that
not a soul except yourself is a bit concerned about it.
Ex-cuse me," he added, taking up the drawing, and
proceeding to examine it leisurelv.

" Please give me my sketch, Mr. Byron," she said, her

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 77

cheeks red with anger. Puzzled, he turned to Lydia for
an explanation, whilst Alice seized the sketch and packed
it in her portfolio.

" It is getting rather warm," said Lydia. " Shall we
return to the castle ? "

" I think we had better," said Alice, trembling with
resentment as she walked away quickly, leaving Lydia
alone with Cashel, who exclaimed,

" What in thunder have I done ? "

"You have made an inconsiderate remark with
unmistakeable sincerity."

"I only tried to cheer her up. She must have
mistaken what I said."

" I think not. Do you believe that young ladies like
to be told that there is no occasion for them to be
ridiculously self-conscious ? "

" I say that ! I'll take my oath I never said anything
of the sort."

"You worded it differently. But you assured her
that she need not object to have her drawing overlooked,
as it is of no importance to any one."

" Well, if she takes offence at that, she must be a born
fool. Some people cant bear to be told anything. But
they soon get all that thin-skinned nonsense knocked out
of them."

" Have you any sisters, Mr. Cashel Byron ? "

« No. Why ? "

" Or a mother ? "

" I have a mother ; but I havent seen her for years ;
and I dont much care if I never see her. It was through
her that I came to be what I am."

"Are you then dissatisfied with your profession ? "

" No : I dont mean that. I am always saying stupid
things."

" Yes. That comes of your ignorance of a sex accus-

78 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IV

tomed to have its silliness respected. You will find it
hard to keep on good terms with my friend without
learning a little more of womanly ways."

" As to her, I wont give in that I'm wrong unless I
am wrong. The truth's the truth."

" Not even to please Miss Goff? "

"Not even to please you. Youd only think the
worse of me afterwards."

" Quite true, and quite right," said Lydia cordially.
" Good-bye, Mr. Cashel Byron. I must go back to Miss
Goff."

" I suppose you will take her part if she keeps a down
on me for what I said to her."

« What is a down ? A grudge ? "

" Yes. Something of that sort."

u Colonial, is it not ? " pursued Lydia, with the air of
a philologist.

<c Yes, I believe I picked it up in the colonies." Then
he added sullenly, " I suppose I shouldnt use slang in
speaking to you. I beg your pardon."

" Not at all. I like finding out about things, especially
about words. And I want to find out about you. You
were not born in Australia, were you ? "

u Good Lord ! no. But are you out with me because I
annoyed Miss Goff? "

" Not in the least. I sympathize with her annoyance
at the manner, if not the matter, of your rebuke : that is
all."

"I cant, for the life of me, see what there was in
what I said to raise such a fuss about. I wish you would
give me a nudge whenever you see me making a fool of
myself. I will shut up at once and ask no questions."

" So that it will be understood that my nudge means
c Shut up, Mr. Cashel Byron : you are making a fool of
yourself ? "

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 79

"Just so. Tou understand me. I told you that
before, didnt I ? "

"I am afraid," said Lydia, her face bright with
laughter, "that I cannot take charge of your manners
until we are a little better acquainted."

He seemed disappointed. Then his face clouded ;
and he began, " If you regard it as a liberty "

" Of course I regard it as a liberty," she said, neatly
interrupting him. " My own conduct gives me quite
enough to take care of. Do you know that for so very
strong a man and learned a professor, you seem to have
very little sense ? "

" By Jingo ! " exclaimed Cashel, with sudden excite-
ment, " I dont care what you say to me. You have a
way of giving things a turn that makes it a pleasure to
be shut up by you ; and if I were a gentleman as I
ought to be, instead of a poor devil of a professional pug,

I would " He recollected himself, and turned quite

pale. There was a pause.

" Let me remind you," said Lydia composedly, though
she too had changed color at the beginning of his out-
burst, " that we are both wanted elsewhere at present :
I by Miss Goff; and you by your servant, who has been
hovering about us and looking at you anxiously for some
minutes."

Cashel turned fiercely, and saw Mellish standing a
little way off, sulkily watching them. Lydia took the
opportunity, and left the place. As she retreated, she
could hear that they were at high words together ;
but she could not distinguish what they were saying.
This was fortunate ; for their knguage was abominable.

She found Alice in the library, seated bolt upright in
a chair that would have tempted a good-humored person
to recline. Lydia sat down in silence. Alice, looking
at her, discovered that she was in a fit of noiseless

8o Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.iv

laughter. The effect, in contrast to her habitual self-
possession, was so strange that Alice almost forgot to be
offended.

" I am glad to see that it is not hard to amuse you,"
she said.

Lydia waited to recover herself thoroughly, and then
replied, " I have not laughed so three times in my life.
Now, Alice, put aside your resentment of our neighbor's
impudence for the moment ; and tell me what you think
of him."

" I have not thought about him at all, I assure you,"
said Alice disdainfully.

" Then think about him for a moment to oblige me j
and let me know the result."

" Really, you have had much more opportunity of
judging than I. / have hardly spoken to him."

Lydia rose patiently and went to the bookcase. "You
have a cousin at one of the universities, have you not ? "
she said, seeking along the shelf for a volume.

" Yes," replied Alice, speaking very sweetly to atone
for her want of amiability on the previous subject.

"Then perhaps you know something of university
slang ? "

" I never allow him to talk slang to me," said Alice
quickly.

"You may dictate modes of expression to a single
man, perhaps, but not to a whole university," said Lydia,
with a quiet scorn that brought unexpected tears to
Alice's eyes. " Do you know what a pug is ? "

" A pug ! " said Alice vacantly. " No : I have heard
of a bulldog — a proctor's bulldog, but never of a

"I must try my slang dictionary," said Lydia, taking
down a book. "Here it is. cPug — a righting man's
idea of the contracted word to be produced from pugilist.'

Chap, iv Cashel Byron's Profession 81

What an extraordinary .definition ! A fighting man's
idea of a contraction ! Why should a man have a
special idea of a contraction when he is fighting \ or
why should he think of such a thing at all under such
circumstances ? Perhaps fighting man is slang too.
No : it is not given here. Either I mistook the word,
or it has some signification unknown to the compiler of
my dictionary."

"It seems quite plain to me," said Alice. "Pug
means pugilist."

" But pugilism is boxing : it is not a profession. I
suppose all men are more or less pugilists. I want a
sense of the word in which it denotes a calling or occu-
pation of some kind. I fancy it means a demonstrator
of anatomy. However, it does not matter."

" Where did you meet with it ? "

"Mr. Byron used it just now."

" Do you really like that man ? " said Alice, returning
to the subject more humbly than she had quitted it.

"So far, I do not dislike him. He puzzles me. If
the roughness of his manner is an affectation, I have
never seen one so successful before."

" Perhaps he does not know any better. His coarse-
ness did not strike me as being affected at all."

" I should agree with you but for one or two remarks
that fell from him. They shewed an insight into the
real nature of scientific knowledge, and an instinctive
sense of the truths underlying words, which I have
never met with except in men of considerable culture
and experience. I suspect that his manner is deliberately
assumed in protest against the selfish vanity which is the
common source of social polish. It is partly natural,
no doubt. He seems too impatient to choose his words
heedfully. Do you ever go to the theatre ? "

" No," said Alice, taken aback by this apparent

G

82 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IV

irrelevance. "My father disapproved of it. But I was
there once. I saw The Lady of Lyons."

" There is a famous actress, Adelaide Gisborne—

" It was she whom I saw as the Lady of Lyons. She
acted it beautifully."

" Did Mr. Byron remind you of her ? "

Alice stared incredulously at Lydia. " I dont believe
there can be two people in the world less like one
another," she said.

" Nor do I," said Lydia, meditatively, dropping into
the literary manner which Cashel admired. "But I
think their dissimilarity must owe its emphasis to some
lurking likeness. Otherwise how could he have reminded
me of her ? " A long silence ensued, during which Alice,
conscious of some unusual stir in her patroness, watched
her furtively and wondered what would happen next.

"Alice."

"Yes."

"My mind is running on trifles — a sure symptom of
failing mental health. My visit to Wiltstoken is only one
of several attempts I have made to live idly since my
father's death. They have all failed. Work is one of
the necessaries of life to me. I will go up to London
to-morrow."

Alice's heart sank; for this seemed equivalent to a
dismissal. But her face expressed nothing but polite
indifference.

" We shall have time to run through all the follies of
the season before June, when I hope to return here and
set to work at a book I have planned. I must collect
materials for it in London. If I leave town before the
season is over, and you are unwilling to come away with
me, I can easily find some one who will take care of you
as long as you please to stay. I wish it were June
already ! "

Chap, iv Cashel Byron's Profession 83

Alice preferred Lydia's womanly impatience to her
fatalistic calm. It relieved her sense of inferiority,
which familiarity had increased rather than diminished.
She did not yet dare to suspect her patroness of any-
thing so vulgarly human as a sexual interest in Cashel ;
but she was beginning to persuade herself with some
success that the propriety of Lydia's manners was at
least questionable. That morning Miss Carew had
not scrupled to ask a man what his profession was ; and
this, at least, Alice congratulated herself on being too
well bred to do. She had quite lost her awe of the
servants ; and had begun to address them with an
unconscious haughtiness and a conscious politeness
that were making the word upstart frequent in the
servants' hall. Bashville, the footman, had risked his
popularity there by opining that Miss Goff was a fine
young woman.

Bashville was in his twenty-fourth year, and stood five
feet ten in his stockings. At The Green Man in
the village all the rustic pretence of indifference to his
metropolitan prestige had melted before his fluent oratory
and his keenness in political debate. In the stables he
was deferred to as an authority on sporting affairs, and
an expert wrestler in the Cornish fashion. The women
servants regarded him with undissembled admiration.
They vied with one another in inventing expressions of
delight when he recited before them, which, as he had
a good memory and was fond of poetry, he often did.
They were proud to go out walking with him. But his
attentions never gave rise to jealousy ; for it was an open
secret in the servants' hall that he loved his mistress.
He had never said anything to that effect j and no one
dared allude to it in his presence, much less rally him on
his weakness ; but his passion was well known for all
that ; and it seemed by no means so hopeless to the

84 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.iv

younger members of the domestic staff as it did to the
cook, the butler, and Bashville himself. Miss Carew,
who knew the value of good servants, appreciated her
footman's smartness, and paid him accordingly ; but she
had no suspicion that she was waited on by a versatile
young student of poetry and public affairs, distinguished
for his gallantry, his personal prowess, his eloquence,
and his influence in local politics.

It was Bashville who now entered the library with
a salver, which he proffered to Alice, saying, "The
gentleman is waiting in the round drawing-room, Miss."

Alice took the gentleman's card, and read, "Mr.
Wallace Parker."

"Oh ! " she said, with vexation, glancing at Bashville
as if to divine his impression of the visitor. "My
cousin — the one we were speaking of just now — has
come to see me."

" How fortunate ! " said Lydia. " He will tell me
the meaning of pug. Ask him to lunch with us."

" You would not care for him," said Alice. " He is
not much used to society. I suppose I had better go
and see him."

Miss Carew did not reply, being plainly at a loss to
understand how there could be any doubt about the
matter. Alice went to the round drawing-room, where
she found Mr. Parker examining a trophy of Indian
armor, and presenting a back view of a short gentleman
in a spruce blue frock-coat. A new hat and pair of
gloves were also visible as he stood looking upward with
his hands behind him. When he turned to greet Alice,
he displayed a face expressive of resolute self-esteem,
with eyes whose watery brightness, together with the
bareness of his temples, from which the hair was worn
away, suggested late hours and either very studious
or very dissipated habits. He advanced confidently ;

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 85

pressed Alice's hand warmly for several seconds ; and
placed a chair for her, without noticing the marked
coldness with which she received his attentions.

" I am not angry, Alice," he said, when he had seated
himself opposite to her ; " but I was surprised to learn
from Aunt Emily that you had come to live here without
consulting me. I "

" Consult you ! " she .exclaimed, scornfully interrupt-
ing him. " I never heard of such a thing ! Why should
I consult you as to my movements ? "

"Well, I should not have used the word consult,
particularly to such an independent little lady as sweet
Alice GofF. Still, I think you might at least have gone
through the form of acquainting me with the step you
were taking. The relations that exist between us give
me a right to your confidence."

" What relations, pray ? "

u What relations ! " he repeated, with reproachful
emphasis.

"Yes. What relations ?"

He rose, and addressed her with tender solemnity.
" Alice," he began : " I have proposed to you six
times "

" And have I accepted you once ? "

" Hear me to the end, Alice. I know that you have
never explicitly accepted me ; but it has always been
understood that my needy circumstances were the only

obstacle to our happiness. We Dont interrupt

me, Alice : you little know whats coming. That
obstacle no longer exists. I have been made second
master at Sunbury College, with ^350 a year, a house,
coals, and gas. In the course of time, I shall undoubtedly
succeed to the head mastership — a splendid position,
worth £1600 a year. You are now free from the
troubles that have pressed so hard upon you since your

86 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IV

father's death ; and you can quit at once — now — instantly,
your dependent position here."

" Thank you : I am very comfortable here. I am
staying on a visit with Miss Carew."

Silence ensued ; and he sat down slowly. Then she
added, " I am exceedingly glad that you have got some-
thing good at last. It must be a great relief to your
poor mother."

" I fancied, Alice — though it may have been only
fancy — I fancied that your mother was colder than usual
in her manner this morning. I hope the luxuries of
this palatial mansion are powerless to corrupt your heart.
I cannot lead you to a castle and place crowds of liveried
servants at your beck and call ; but I can make you
mistress of an honorable English home, independent
of the bounty of strangers. You can never be more
than a lady, Alice."

" It is very good of you to lecture me, I am sure."

" You might be serious with me," he said, rising in
ill humor, and walking a little way down the room.
" I think the offer of a man's hand ought to be received
with respect."

" Oh ! I did not quite understand. I thought we
agreed that you are not to make me that offer every time
we meet."

" It was equally understood that the subject was only
deferred until I should be in a position to resume it
without binding you to a long engagement. That time
has come now ; and I expect a favorable answer at last.
I am entitled to one, considering how patiently I have
waited for it."

" For my part, Wallace, I must say I do not think
it wise for you to think of marrying with only ^350
a year."

" With a house : remember that ; and coals, and gas !

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 87

You are becoming very prudent now that you live with
Miss Whatshername here. I fear you no longer love
me, Alice."

" I never said I loved you at any time."

" Pshaw ! You never said so, perhaps ; but you
always gave me to understand "

" I did nothing of the sort, Wallace ; and I wont have
you say so."

" In short," he retorted bitterly, " you think you will
pick up some swell here who will be a better bargain
than I am."

" Wallace ! How dare you ? "

" You hurt my feelings, Alice ; and I speak out. I
know how to behave myself quite as well as those who
have the entree here ; but when my entire happiness is at
stake I do not stand on punctilio. Therefore I insist on a
straightforward answer to my fair, honorable proposal."

" Wallace," said Alice, with dignity : " I will not be
forced into giving an answer against my will. I regard
you as a cousin."

" I do not wish to be regarded as a cousin. Have I
ever regarded you as a cousin ? "

" And do you suppose, Wallace, that I should permit
you to call me by my Christian name, and be as familiar
as we have always been together, if you were not my
cousin ? If so, you must have a very strange opinion of
me."

" I did not think that luxury could so corrupt "

"You said that before," said Alice pettishly. "Do
not keep repeating the same thing over and over : you
know it is one of your bad habits. Will you stay to
lunch ? Miss Carew told me to ask you."

" Indeed ! Miss Carew is very kind. Please inform
her that I am deeply honored, and that I feel quite
disturbed at being unable to accept her patronage."

88 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IV

Alice poised her head disdainfully. "No doubt it
amuses you to make yourself ridiculous," she said ; " but
I must say I do not see any occasion for it."

" I am sorry that my behavior is not sufficiently good
for you. You never found any cause to complain of it
when our surroundings were less aristocratic. 1 am
quite ashamed of taking so much of your valuable time.
Good morning."

" Good morning. But I do not see why you are in
such a rage."

" I am not in a rage. I am onty grieved to find that
you are corrupted by luxury. I thought your principles
were higher. Good morning, Miss Goff. I shall not
have the pleasure of seeing you again in this very choice

mansion."

" Are you really going, Wallace ? " said Alice, rising.

"Yes. Why should I stay ?"

She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him ; for he
had expected her to detain him and make advances for a
reconciliation. Before they could exchange more words,
Bashville entered.

" Good-bye," said Alice politely.

" Good-bye," he replied, through his teeth. He walked
loftily out, passing Bashville with marked scorn.

He had left the house, and was descending the terrace
steps, when he was overtaken by the footman, who said
civilly,

" Beg your pardon, sir. Youve forgotten this, I
think." And he handed him a walking stick.

Parker's first idea was that his stick had attracted the
man's attention by the poor figure it made in the castle
hall, and that Bashville was requesting him, with covert
superciliousness, to remove his property. On second
thoughts his self-esteem rejected this suspicion as too
humiliating ; but he resolved to shew Bashville that he

Chap. IV Cashel Byron's Profession 89

had a gentleman to deal with. So he took the stick,
and, instead of thanking Basliville, handed him five
shillings.

Bashville smiled and shook his head. " Oh no, sir,"
he said : " thank you all the same. Those are not my
views."

"The more fool you," said Parker, pocketing the
coins, and turning away.

Bashville's countenance changed. " Come come, sir,"
he said, following Parker to the foot of the steps : " fair
words deserve fair words. I am no more a fool than you
are. A gentleman should know his place as well as a
servant."

" Oh, go to the devil," muttered Parker, turning very
red, and hurrying away.

" If you werent my mistress's guest," said Bashville,
looking menacingly after him, "I'd send you to bed for
a week for sending me to the devil."

CHAPTER V

Miss CAREW unhesitatingly carried out her intention of
going to London, where she took a house in Regent's
Park, to the disappointment of Alice, who had hoped to
live in Mayfair, or at least in South Kensington. But
Lydia set great store by the high northerly ground and
open air of the Park ; and Alice found almost perfect
happiness in driving through London in a fine carriage
and fine clothes. She liked that better than concerts of
classical music, which she did not particularly relish, or
even than the opera, to which they went often. The
theatres pleased her more, though the amusements there
were tamer than she had expected. " Society " was
delightful to her because it was real London society.
She acquired a mania for dancing ; went out every night ;
and seemed to herself far more distinguished and attractive
than she had ever been in Wiltstoken, where she had
nevertheless held a sufficiently favorable opinion of her
own manners and person.

Lydia did not share all these dissipations. She easily
procured invitations and chaperones for Alice, who
wondered why so intelligent a woman would take the
trouble to sit out a stupid concert, and then go home,
just as the real pleasure of the evening was beginning.
One Saturday morning, at breakfast, Lydia said,
" Have you ever been to the Crystal Palace ? "

Chap.v Cashel Byron's Profession 91

"No," said Alice, with some scorn, which she
repented when Lydia rejoined sedately,

"I think I will go down there to-day and wander
about the gardens for a while. There is to be a concert
in the afternoon, at which Madame Szczymplica, whose
playing you do not admire, will appear. Will you come
with me ? "

" Of course," said Alice, resolutely dutiful.

" Of choice : not of course," said Lydia. " Are you
engaged for to-morrow evening ? "

"Sunday? Oh no. Besides, I consider all my
engagements subject to your convenience."

There was a pause, long enough for this assurance to
fall perfectly flat. Alice bit her lip. Then Lydia said,
" Do you know Mrs. Hoskyn ? "

"Mrs. Hoskyn who gives Sunday evenings? Shall
we go there ? " said Alice eagerly. " People often ask
me whether I have been at one of them. But I dont
know her — though I have seen her. Is she nice ? "

" She is a young woman who has read a great deal of
art criticism, and been deeply impressed by it. She has
made her house famous by bringing there all the clever
people she meets, and making them so comfortable that
they take care to go again. But she has not, fortunately
for her, allowed her craze for art to get the better of her
common sense. She has married a prosperous man of
business, who probably never read anything but a news-
paper since he left school ; and I doubt if there is a
happier pair in England."

" I presume she had sense enough to know that she
could not afford to choose," said Alice complacently.
" She is very ugly."

" Do you think so ? She has many admirers, and
was, I am told, engaged to Mr. Herbert, the artist, before
she met Mr. Hoskyn. We shall meet Mr. Herbert there

92 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.V

to-morrow, and a number of celebrated persons besides :
his wife Madame Szczymplica the pianiste, Owen Jack
the composer, Conolly the inventor, and others. The
occasion will be a special one, as Herr Abendgasse, a
remarkable German socialist-of-the-chair and art critic, is
to deliver a lecture on c The True in Art.' Be careful,
in speaking of him in society, to refer to him as a
sociologist, and not a socialist. Are you particularly
anxious to hear him lecture ? "

" No doubt it will be very interesting," said Alice.
" I should not like to miss the opportunity of going to
Mrs. Hoskyn's. People so often ask me whether I have
been there, and whether I know this, that, and the other
celebrated person, that I feel rather out of it in my rustic
ignorance."

" Because," pursued Lydia, " I had intended not to go
until after the lecture. Herr Abendgasse is enthusiastic
and eloquent, but not original. I prefer to get his ideas
direct from their inventors ; so unless you are specially
interested "

" Not at all. If he is a socialist I had much rather
not listen to him, particularly on Sunday evening."

It was arranged accordingly that they should go to
Mrs. Hoskyn's after the lecture. Meanwhile they went
to Sydenham, where Alice went through the Crystal
Palace with provincial curiosity, and Lydia explained the
place encyclopaedically. In the afternoon there was
a concert, at which a band played several long pieces
of music, which Lydia seemed to enjoy, though she
occasionally found fault with the performers. Alice,
able to detect neither the faults in the execution nor the
beauty of the music, did as she saw the others do —
pretended to be pleased, and applauded decorously.
Madame Szczymplica, whom she expected to meet at
Mrs. Hoskyn's, appeared, and played a fantasia for piano-

Chap.v Cashel Byron's Profession 93

forte and orchestra by the famous Jack, another of Mrs.
Hoskyn's circle. There was in the program an analysis
of this composition, from which Alice learnt that by
attentively listening to the adagio she could hear the
angels singing therein. She listened as attentively as
she could, but heard no angels, and was astonished when,
at the conclusion of the fantasia, the audience applauded
Madame Szczymplica as if she had made them hear the
music of the spheres. Even Lydia seemed moved, and
said,

" Strange, that she is only a woman like the rest of us,
with just the same narrow bounds to her existence, and
just the same prosaic cares — that she will go by train to
Victoria, and thence home in a common vehicle, instead
of embarking in a great shell, and being drawn by swans
to some enchanted island. Her playing reminds me of
myself as I was when I believed in fairyland, and indeed
knew little about any other land."

"They say," said Alice, "that her husband is very
jealous, and that she leads him a terrible life.'*

" They say anything that brings gifted people to the
level of their own experience. Doubtless they are right.
I have not met Mr. Herbert ; but I have seen his
pictures, which suggest that he reads everything and sees
nothing ; for they all represent scenes described in some
poem. If one could only find an educated man who had
never read a book, what a delightful companion he
would be ! "

When the concert was over, they did not return
directly to town, as Lydia wished to walk awhile in the
gardens. In consequence, when they left Sydenham
they got into a Waterloo train, and so had to change at
Clapham Junction. It was a fine summer evening j and
Alice, though she thought that it became ladies to hide
themselves from the public in waiting-rooms at railway

94 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.v

stations, did not attempt to dissuade Lydia from walking
to and fro at an unfrequented end of the platform, which
ended in a bank covered with flowers.

" To my mind," said Lydia, " Clapham Junction is
one of the prettiest places about London."

" Indeed ! " said Alice, a little maliciously. " I
thought that all artistic people looked on junctions and
railway lines as blots on the landscape."

" Some of them do," said Lydia -, " but they are not
the artists of our generation ; and those who take up
their cry are no better than parrots. If every holiday
recollection of my youth — every escape from town to
country — be associated with the railway, I must feel
towards it otherwise than my father did, upon whose
middle age it came as a monstrous iron innovation. The
locomotive is one of the wonders of modern childhood.
Children crowd upon a bridge to see the train pass
beneath. Little boys strut along the streets puffing and
whistling in imitation of the engine. All that romance,
silly as it looks, becomes sacred in after life. Besides,
when it is not underground in a foul London tunnel,
a train is a beautiful thing. Its pure white fleece of
steam harmonizes with every variety of landscape. And
its sound ! Have you ever stood on a sea coast skirted
by a railway, and listened as the train came into hearing
in the far distance ? At first it can hardly be dis-
tinguished from the noise of the sea ; then you recognize
it by its variation : one moment smothered in a deep
cutting, and the next sent echoing from some hillside.
Sometimes it runs smoothly for many minutes, and then
breaks suddenly into a rhythmic clatter, always changing
in distance and intensity. When it comes near, you
should get into a tunnel, and stand there whilst it passes.
I did that once ; and it was like the last page of an over-
ture by Beethoven, thunderingly impetuous. I cannot

Chap.V Cashel Byron's Profession 95

conceive how any person can hope to disparage a train
by comparing it with a stage coach j and I know some-
thing of stage coaches, or, at least, of diligences. Their
effect on the men employed about them ought to decide
the superiority of steam without further argument. I
never saw an engine driver who did not seem an excep-
tionally intelligent mechanic ; whilst the very writers
and artists who have preserved the memory of the
coaching days for us do not appear to have taken coach-
men seriously, or to have regarded them as responsible
and civilized men. Abuse of the railway from a pastoral
point of view is obsolete. There are millions of grown
persons in England to whom the far sound of the train is
as pleasantly suggestive as the piping of a blackbird.
And then — is not that Lord Worthington getting out of
the train ? Yes, that one, at the third platform from

this. He " She stopped. Alice looked, but could

see neither Lord Worthington nor the cause of a subtle
but perceptible change in Lydia, who said quickly,

"He is probably coming to our train. Come to the
waiting-room." She walked swiftly along the platform as
she spoke. Alice hurried after her ; and they had but
just got into the room, the door of which was close to
the staircase which gave access to the platform, when a
coarse din of men's voices told them that a noisy party
was ascending the steps. Presently a man emerged reel-
ing, and at once began to execute a drunken dance, and
to sing as well as his condition and musical faculty
allowed. Lydia stood near the window of the room, and
watched in silence. Alice, following her example, recog-
nized the drunken dancer as Mellish. He was followed
by three men, gaily attired and highly elated, but com-
paratively sober. After them came Cashel Byron, showily
dressed in a velveteen coat and tightly fitting fawn-
coloured pantaloons that displayed the muscles of his legs.

96 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.v

He also seemed quite sober ; but he was dishevelled ; and
his left eye blinked frequently, the adjacent brow and
cheek being much yellower than his natural complexion,
which appeared to advantage on the right side of his face.
Walking steadily to Mellish, who was now asking each
of the bystanders in turn to come and drink at his
expense, he seized him by the collar, and sternly bade him
cease making a fool of himself. Mellish tried to embrace
him.

" My own boy," he exclaimed affectionately. " He's
my little nonpareil. Cashel Byron agin the world at
catch weight. Bob Mellish's money "

" You sot," said Cashel, rolling him about until he was
giddy as well as drunk, and then forcing him to sit down
on a bench : " one would think you never saw a mill or
won a bet in your life before."

" Steady, Byron," said one of the others. " Here's his
lordship." Lord Worthington was coming up the stairs,
apparently the most excited of the party.

" Fine man ! " he cried, patting Cashel on the shoulder.
" Splendid man ! You have won a monkey for me to-day ;
and you shall have your share of it, old boy."

"I trained him," said Mellish, staggering forward
again. " I trained him. You know me, my lord. You
know Bob Mellish. A word with your lordship in
c — confidence. You jes ask who knows how to make

the beef go and the muscle come. You ask 1 ask

your lorship's par'n. What'll your lorship take ? "

cc Take care, for Heaven's sake ! " exclaimed Lord
Worthington, clutching at him as he reeled backwards
towards the line. " Dont you see the train ? "

" / know," said Mellish gravely. " I am all right : no
man more so. I am Bob Mellish. You ask —

" Here. Come out of this," said one of the party, a
powerful man with a scarred face and crushed nose,

Chap.v Cashel Byron's Profession 97

grasping Mellish and thrusting him into the train.
" You want a beefsteak on that ogle of yours, where you
napped the Dutchman's auctioneer, Byron. It's got
more yellow paint on it than yll like to shew in church

to-morrow."

At this they all gave a roar of laughter, and took an
empty first-class compartment by storm. Lydia and Alice
had hardly time to take their places in the train before it
started.

" Really I must say," said Alice, " that if those were
Mr. Cashel Byron's and Lord Worthington's associates,
their tastes are very peculiar."

"Yes," said Lydia, almost grimly. "I am a fair
linguist ; but I did not understand a single sentence of
their conversation, though I heard it all distinctly."

" They were not gentlemen," said Alice. " You say
that no one can tell by a person's appearance whether he
is a gentleman or not ; but surely you cannot think that
those men are Lord Worthington's equals."

" I do not," said Lydia. " They are ruffians ; and
Cashel Byron is the most unmistakeable ruffian of them all."

Alice, awestruck, did not venture to speak again until
they left the train at Victoria. There was a crowd
outside the carriage in \fhich Cashel had travelled. Alice
hastened past ; but Lydia asked a guard whether anything
was the matter. He replied that a drunken man, alighting
from the train, had fallen down upon the rails, so that,
had the carriage been in motion, he would have been
killed. Lydia thanked the guard, and, as she turned from
him, found Bashville standing before her, touching his
hat. She had given him no instructions to attend. How-
ever, she accepted his presence as a matter of course, and
inquired whether the carriage was there.

"No, madam," replied Bashville. "The coachman
had no orders."

H

98 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.v

" Quite right. A hansom, if you please." When he
was gone, she said to Alice, " Did you tell Bashville to
meet us ? "

" Oh dear no ! I should not think of doing such a
thing."

" Strange ! However, he knows his duties better than
I do ; so I have no doubt that he has acted properly. He
has been waiting all the afternoon, I suppose, poor fellow."

" He has nothing else to do," said Alice carelessly.
" Here he is. He has picked out a new hansom for us
too."

Meanwhile, Mellish had been dragged from beneath
the train, and seated on the knee of one of his com-
panions. He was in a stupor, and had a large lump on
his brow. His eye was almost closed. The man with
the crushed nose now shewed himself an expert surgeon.
Whilst Cashel supported the patient on the knee of
another man, and the rest of the party kept off the crowd
by mingled persuasion and violence, he produced a lancet
and summarily reduced the swelling by lancing it. He
then dressed the puncture neatly with appliances for that
purpose which he carried about him, and shouted in
Mellish's ear to rouse him. But the trainer only groaned,
and let his head drop inert on his breast. More shouting
was resorted to, but in vain. Cashel impatiently ex-
pressed an opinion that Mellish was shamming, and
declared that he would not stand there to be fooled with
all the evening.

" If he was my pal 'stead o yours," said the man with
the broken nose, " I'd wake him up fast enough."

" I'll save you the trouble," said Cashel, coolly stooping
and seizing between his teeth the cartilage of the trainer's
ear.

" That's the way to do it," said the other approvingly,
as Mellish screamed and started to his feet. " Now then.

Chap. V Cashel Byron's Profession 99

On with you." He took Mellish's right arm ; Cashel
took the left ; and they brought him away between them
without paying the least heed to his tears, his protestations
that he was hurt, his plea that he was an old man, or his
bitter demand as to where Cashel would have been at that
moment without his care.

Lord Worthington had taken advantage of this accident
to slip away from his travelling companions, and drive
alone to his lodgings in Jermyn Street. He was still
greatly excited ; and when his valet, an old retainer with
whom he was on familiar terms, brought him a letter that
had arrived during his absence, he asked him four times
whether any one had called, and four times interrupted
him by scraps of information about the splendid day he
had had and the luck he was in.

" I betted five hundred even that it would be over in
quarter of an hour ; and then I betted Byron two hundred
and fifty to one that it wouldnt. Thats the way to do
it : eh, Bedford ? Catch Cashel letting two hundred and
fifty slip through his fingers ! By George though, he's
an artful card. At the end of fourteen minutes I thought
my five hundred was corpsed. The Dutchman was full
of fight ; and Cashel suddenly turned weak and tried to
back out of the rally. You should have seen the gleam
in the Dutchman's eye when he rushed in after him. He
made cock-sure of finishing him straight ofF."

" Indeed, my lord. Dear me ! "

" I should think so : I was taken in by it myself. It
was only done to draw the poor devil. By George,
Bedford, you should have seen the way Cashel put in his
right. But you couldnt have seen it : it was too quick.
The Dutchman was asleep on the grass before he knew
he'd been hit. Byron had collected fifteen pounds for
him before he came to. His jaw must feel devilish queer
after it. By Jove, Bedford, Cashel is a perfect wonder.

ioo Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.V

I'd back him for every penny I possess against any man
alive. He makes you feel proud of being an English-
man."

Bedford looked on with submissive wonder as his
master, transfigured with enthusiasm, went hastily to and
fro through the room, occasionally clenching his fist and
smiting an imaginary Dutchman. The valet at last
ventured to remind him that he had forgotten the letter.

"Oh, hang the letter !" said Lord Worthington.
"It's Mrs. Hoskyn's writing — an invitation, or some
such rot. Here : let's see it."

Campden Hill Road. Saturday.
My dear Lord Worthington

I have not forgotten my promise to obtain for you a
near view of the famous Mrs. Herbert — Madame Simplicita^
as you call her. She will be with us to-morrow evening ; and
we shall be very happy to see you then^ if you care to come.
At nine o'clock^ Herr Abendgasse^ a celebrated German Art
critic and a great friend of mine^ will read us a paper on
" The True in Art " ; but I will not pay you the compliment
of pretending to believe that that Interests you-, so you may
come at ten or half-past^ by which hour all the serious
business of the evening will be over.

"Well, there is nothing like cheek," said Lord
Worthington, breaking off in his perusal. "These
women think that because I enjoy life in a rational way,
I dont know the back of a picture from the front, or the
inside of a book from the cover. I shall go at nine
sharp."

/ suppose none of your acquaintances take an Interest In
Art. Could you not bring me a celebrity or two ! I am
very anxious to have as good an audience as possible for Herr
Abendgasse. However^ as It iV, he will have no reason to

Chap.V Cashel Byron's Profession 101

complain, as I flatter myself that I have already secured a
very distinguished assembly. Still, if you can add a second
illustrious name to my list, by all means do so.

"Very good, Mrs. Hoskyn," said Lord Worthington,
looking cunningly at the bewildered Bedford. "You
shall have a celebrity — a real one — none of your mouldy
old Germans — if I can only get him to come. If any of
her people dont like him, they can tell him so. Eh,
Bedford?"

CHAPTER VI

NEXT evening, Lydia and Alice reached Mrs. Hoskyn's
house in Campden Hill Road a few minutes before ten
o'clock. They found Lord Worthington in the front
garden, smoking and chatting with Mr. Hoskyn.
He threw away his cigar, and returned to the house
with the two ladies, who observed that he was some-
what flushed with wine. They went into a parlor
to take off their wraps, leaving him at the foot of the
stairs. Presently they heard some one come down and
address him excitedly.

"Worthington. Worthington. He has begun making
a speech before the whole room. He got up the moment
old Abendgasse sat down. Why the deuce did you start
champagne at dinner ? "

" Sh-sh-sh ! You dont say so ! Come with me ; and
let's try to get him away quietly."

" Did you hear that ? " said Alice. " Something must
have happened."

<c I hope so," said Lydia. " Ordinarily, the fault in
these receptions is that nothing happens. Do not
announce us, if you please," she added, to the servant, as
they ascended the stairs. "Since we have come late, let
us spare the feelings of Herr Abendgasse by going in as
quietly as possible."

They had no difficulty in entering unnoticed j for

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 103

Mrs. Hoskyn considered obscurity beautiful ; and her
rooms were but dimly lighted by two curious lanterns of
pink glass, within which were vaporous flames. In the
middle of the larger apartment was a small table covered
with garnet-colored plush, bearing a reading desk and
two candles in silver candlesticks, the light from which,
brighter than the lanterns, cast strong double shadows
from the groups of standing figures. The surrounding
space was crowded with chairs, occupied chiefly by ladies.
Behind them, along the wall, stood a row of men, among
whom was Lucian Webber. All were staring at Cashel
Byron, who was making a speech to some bearded and
spectacled gentleman at the table. Lydia, who had
never before seen him either in evening dress or quite at
his ease, was astonished at his bearing. His eyes were
sparkling ; his confidence overbore the company ; and
his rough voice created the silence it broke. He was in
high good humor, and marked his periods by the swing
of his extended left arm, whilst he held his right hand
close to his body and occasionally pointed his remarks by
slyly wagging its forefinger.

- executive power," he was saying, as Lydia
entered. "Thats a very good expression, gentlemen,
and one that I can tell you a lot about. We have been
told that if we want to civilize our neighbors, we must
do it mainly by the example of our own lives, by each
becoming a living illustration of the highest culture we
know. But what I ask is, how is anybody to know that
youre an illustration of culture ? You cant go about
like a sandwich man with a label on your back to tell all
the fine notions you have in your head ; and you may be
sure no person will consider your mere appearance prefer-
able to his own. You want an executive power : thats
what you want. Suppose you walked along the street
and saw a man beating a woman, and setting a bad

104 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

example to the roughs. Well, you would be bound to
set a good example to them ; and, if youre men, youd
like to save the woman ; but you couldnt do it by
merely living ; for that would be setting the bad example
of passing on and leaving the poor creature to be beaten.
What is it that you need to know, then, so as to be able
to act up to your ideas ? Why, you want to know how to
hit him, when to hit him, and where to hit him ; and
then you want the nerve to go in and do it. Thats
executive power ; and thats whats wanted worse than
sitting down and thinking how good you are, which is
what this gentleman's teaching comes to after all.
Dont you see ? You want executive power to set an
example. If you leave all that to the roughs, it's their
example that will spread, and not yours. And look at
the politics of it. I heard a man in the park one Sunday
say that in this country we can do nothing ; for, says he,
if the lords and the landlords, or any other collection of
nobs, were to drive us into the sea, what could we do
but go ? There's a gentleman laughing at me for saying
that y but I ask him what would he do if the police or
the soldiers came this evening and told him to turn out
of his comfortable house into the Thames ? Tell em
he wouldnt vote for their employers at the next election,
perhaps ? Or, if that didnt stop them, tell em that he'd
ask his friends to do the same ? Thats a pretty execu-
tive power ! No, gentlemen. Dont let yourself be
deceived by people that have staked their money against
you. The first thing to learn is how to fight. There's no
use in buying books and pictures unless you know how to
keep them and your own head as well. If that gentle-
man that laughed knew how to fight, and his neighbors
all knew how to fight too, he wouldnt need to fear
police, nor soldiers, nor Russians, nor Prussians, nor any
of the millions of men that may be let loose on him any

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 105

day of the week, safe though he thinks himself. But,
says you, lets have a division of labor. Lets not fight
for ourselves, but pay other men to fight for us. That
shews how some people, when they get hold of an idea,
will work it to that foolish length that it's wearisome to
listen to them. Fighting is the power of self-preserva-
tion : another man cant do it for you. You might as
well divide the labor of eating your dinner, and pay one
fellow to take the beef, another the beer, and the third
the potatoes. But let us put it for the sake of argument
that you do pay others to fight for you. Suppose some
one else pays them higher, and they fight a cross, or turn
openly against you ? Youd have only yourself to blame
for giving the executive power to money. Therefore I
say that a man's first duty is to learn to fight. If he
cant do that, he cant set an example ; he cant stand up
for his own rights or his neighbors' ; he cant keep him-
self in bodily health \ and if he sees the weak ill-used by
the strong, the most he can do is to sneak away and tell
the nearest policeman, who most likely wont turn up
until the worst of the mischief is done. Coming to this
lady's drawing-room, and making an illustration of him-
self, wont make him feel like a man after that. Let me
be understood though, gentlemen : I dont intend that
you should take everything I say too exactly — too liter-
ally, as it were. If you see a man beating a woman,
I think you should interfere on principle. But dont
expect to be thanked by her for it ; and keep your eye
on her : dont let her get behind you. As for him, just
give him a good one and go away. Never stay to get
yourself into a street fight ; for it's low, and generally
turns out badly for all parties. However, thats only a
bit of practical advice. It doesnt alter the great
principle that you should get an executive power.
When you get that, youll have courage in you ; and,

io6 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

whats more, your courage will be of some use to you.
For though you may have courage by nature ; still, if
you havent executive power as well, your courage will
only lead you to stand up to be beaten by men that have
both courage and executive power ; and what good does
that do you ? People say that youre a game fellow ;
but they wont find the stakes for you unless you can
win them. Youd far better put your game in your
pocket, and throw up the sponge while you can see to
do it.

"Now, on this subject of game, Ive something to say
that will ease the professor's mind on a point that he
seemed anxious about. I am no musician ; but I'll just
shew you how a man that understands one art under-
stands every art. I made out from the gentleman's
remarks that there is a man in the musical line named
Wagner, who is what you might call a game sort of
composer ; and that the musical fancy, though they cant
deny that his tunes are first-rate, and that, so to speak,
he wins his fights, yet they try to make out that he wins
them in an outlandish way, and that he has no real
science. Now I tell the gentleman not to mind such
talk. As I have just shewn you, his game wouldnt be
any use to him without science, He might have beaten
a few second-raters with a rush while he was young;
but he wouldnt have lasted out as he has done unless he
was clever as well. It's the newness of his style that
puzzles people ; for, mind you, every man has to grow
his own style out of himself; and there is no use in
thinking that it will be the same as the last fellow's, or
right for the next fellow, or that it's the style, and that
every other style is wrong. More rot is talked through
not knowing that than anything else. You will find that
those that run Professor Wagner down are either jealous,
or they are old stagers that are not used to his style, and

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 107

think that anything new must be bad. Just wait a bit,
and, take my word for it, theyll turn right round and
swear that his style isnt new at all, and that he stole it
from some one they saw when they were ten years old.
History shews us that that is the way of such fellows in
all ages, as the gentleman said j and he gave you
Beethoven as an example. But an example like that
dont go home to you, because there isnt one man in a
million that ever heard of Beethoven. Take a man that
everybody has heard of : Jack Randall ! The very same
things were said of him. After that, you neednt go to
musicians for an example. The truth is, that there are
people in the world with that degree of envy and malice
in them that they cant bear to allow a good man his
merits ; and when they have to admit that he can do one
thing, they try to make out that there's something else
he cant do. Come : I'll put it to you short and
business-like. This German gentleman, who knows all
about music, tells you that many pretend that this
Wagner has game, but no science. Well, I, though I
know nothing about music, will bet you twenty -five
pounds that there's others that allow him to be full of
science, but say that he has no game, and that all he does
comes from his head, and not from his heart. I will.
I'll bet twenty-five pounds on it ; and let the gentleman
of the house be stakeholder, and the German gentleman
referee. Eh ? Well, I'm glad to see that there are no
takers.

" Now we'll go to another little point that the gentle-
man forgot. He recommended you to learn — to make
yourselves better and wiser from day to day. But he
didnt tell you why it is that you wont learn, in spite of
his advice. I suppose that, being a foreigner, he was
afraid of hurting your feelings by talking too freely to
you. But youre not so thin-skinned as to take offence

io8 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

at a little plain speaking, I'll be bound ; so I tell you
straight out that the reason you wont learn is not that
you dont want to be clever, or that you are lazier than
many that have learnt a great deal ; but just because
youd like people to think that you know everything
already — because youre ashamed to be seen going to
school ; and you calculate that if you only hold your
tongue and look wise, youll get through life without
your ignorance being found out. But wheres the good
of lies and pretence ? What does it matter if you get
laughed at by a cheeky brat or two for your awkward
beginnings ? Whats the use of always thinking of how
youre looking, when your sense might tell you that
other people are thinking about their own looks and not
about yours ? A big boy doesnt look well on a lower
form, certainly ; but when he works his way up he'll be
glad he began. I speak to you more particularly because
youre Londoners ; and Londoners beat all creation for
thinking about themselves. However, I dont go with
the gentleman in everything he said. All this struggling
and striving to make the world better is a great mistake ;
not because it isnt a good thing to improve the world
if you know how to do it, but because striving and
struggling is the worst way you could set about doing
anything. It gives a man a bad style, and weakens him.
It shews that he dont believe in himself much. When
I heard the professor striving and struggling so earnestly
to set you to work reforming this, that, and the other, I
said to myself, c He's got himself to persuade as well as us.
That isnt the language of conviction.' Whose —

" Really, sir," said Lucian Webber, who had made his
way to the table, " I think, as you have now addressed
us at considerable length, and as there are other persons
present whose opinions probably excite as much curiosity
as yours " He was interrupted by a " Hear, hear,"

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 109

followed by " No, no," and <c Go on," uttered in more
subdued tones than are customary at public meetings,
but with more animation than is usually displayed in
drawing-rooms. Cashel, who had been for a moment
somewhat put out, turned to Lucian and said, in a tone
intended to repress, but at the same time humor his
impatience, "Dont you be in a hurry, sir. You shall
have your turn presently. Perhaps I may tell you some-
thing you dont know before you stop." Then he turned
again to the company, and resumed.

"We were talking about effort when this young
gentleman took it upon himself to break the ring. Now,
nothing can be what you might call artistically done, if
it's done with an effort. If a thing cant be done light
and easy, steady and certain, let it not be done at all.
Sounds strange, doesnt it ? But I'll tell you a stranger
thing. The more effort you make, the less effect you
produce. A would-be artist is no artist at all. I learnt that
in my own profession (never mind what that profession is
just at present, as the ladies might think the worse of me
for it). But in all professions any work that shows signs
of labor, straining, yearning — as the German gentleman
said — or effort of any kind, is work beyond the man's
strength that does it, and therefore not well done.
Perhaps it's beyond his natural strength ; but it is more
likely that he was badly taught. Many teachers set
their pupils on to strain and stretch so that they get used
up, body and mind, in a few months. Depend upon it,
the same thing is true in other arts. I once taught a
fiddler that used to get a hundred guineas for playing two
or three tunes ; and he told me that it was just the same
thing with the fiddle — that when you laid a tight hold on
your fiddle-stick, or even set your teeth hard together,
you could do nothing but rasp like the fellows that play
in bands for a few shillings a night."

i io Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

" How much more of this nonsense must we endure ? "
said Lucian audibly, as Cashel stopped for breath.
Cashel turned, and looked at him.

"By Jove," whispered Lord Worthington to his
companion, " that fellow had better be careful. I wish
he would hold his tongue."

" You think it's nonsense, do you ? " said Cashel, after
a pause. Then he raised one of the candles, and
illuminated a picture that hung on the wall. " Look at
that picture," he said. " You see that fellow in armor
— St. George and the dragon or whatever he may be ?
He's jumped down from his horse to fight the other
fellow — that one with his head in a big helmet, whose
horse has tumbled. The lady in the gallery is half crazy
with anxiety for St. George ; and well she may be.
There's a posture for a man to fight in ! His weight isnt
resting on his legs : one touch of a child's finger would
upset him. Look at his neck craned out in front of him,
and his face as flat as a full moon towards his man, as if
he was inviting him to shut up both his eyes with one
blow. You can all see that he's as weak and nervous as
a cat, and that he doesnt know how to fight. And why
does he give you that idea ? Just because he's all strain
and stretch ; because he isnt at his ease ; because ^he
carries the weight of his body as foolishly as one of the
ladies here would carry a hod of bricks ; because he isnt
safe, steady, and light on his pins, as he would be if he
could forget himself for a minute and leave his body to
find its proper balance of its own accord. If the painter
of that picture had known his business, he would never
have sent his man up to the scratch in such a figure and
condition as that. But you can see with one eye that he
didnt understand — I wont say the principles of fighting,
but the universal principles that I've told you of, that
ease and strength, effort and weakness, go together.

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 1 1 1

Now ! " added Cashel, again addressing Lucian : " do
you still think that notion of mine nonsense ? " And he
smacked his lips with satisfaction ; for his criticism of
the picture had produced a marked sensation ; and he did
not know that this was due to the fact that the painter,
Mr. Adrian Herbert, was present.

Lucian tried to ignore the question ; but he found it
impossible to ignore the questioner. " Since you have
set the example of expressing opinions without regard to
considerations of common courtesy," he said shortly, " I
may say that your theory, if it can be called one, is a
contradiction in terms."

Cashel, apparently unruffled, but with more delibera-
tion of manner than before, looked about him as if in
search of a fresh illustration. His glance finally rested
on the lecturer's seat, a capacious crimson damask
armchair that stood unoccupied at some distance behind
Lucian.

" I see youre no judge of a picture," he said good-
humoredly, putting down the candle, and stepping in
front of Lucian, who regarded him haughtily, and did
not budge, "But just look at it in this way. Suppose
you wanted to hit me the most punishing blow you
possibly could. What would you do ? Why, according
to your own notion, youd make a great effort. c The
more effort, the more force,' youd say to yourself. ' I'll
smash him even if I burst myself in doing it.' And what
would happen then ? Youd only cut me and make me
angry, besides exhausting all your strength at one gasp.

Whereas, if you took it easy — like this " Here he

made a light step forward, and placed his open palm
gently against the breast of Lucian, who, as if the piston-
rod of a steam-engine had touched him, instantly reeled
back and dropped into the chair.

" There ! " exclaimed Cashel, beaming with self-

1 1 2 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, vi

satisfaction as he stepped aside and pointed at Lucian.
"It's like pocketing a billiard ball ! "

A chatter of surprise, amusement, and remonstrance
spread through the rooms ; and the company crowded
towards the table. Lucian rose, white with rage, and for
a moment entirely lost his self-control. Fortunately, the
effect was to paralyze him : he neither moved nor spoke,
and only betrayed his condition by his pallor, and the
hatred in his expression. Presently he felt a touch on
his arm, and heard his name pronounced by Lydia.
Her voice calmed him. He tried to look at her ; but
his vision was disturbed : he saw double ; the lights
seemed to dance before his eyes ; and Lord Worthing-
ton's voice, saying to Cashel, " Rather too practical, old
fellow," seemed to come from a remote corner of the
room, and yet to be whispered into his ear. He was
moving irresolutely in search of Lydia, when his senses
and his resentment were restored by a clap on the
shoulder.

" You wouldnt have believed that now, would you ? "
said Cashel. " Dont look startled : youve no bones
broken. You had your little joke with me in your own
way ; and I had mine in my own way. Thats only '

He stopped : his brave bearing vanished : he became
limp and shamefaced. Lucian, without a word, with-
drew with Lydia to the adjoining apartment, and left
him staring after her with wistful eyes and slackened
jaw.

In the meantime Mrs. Hoskyn, an earnest-looking
young woman with striking dark features and gold
spectacles, was looking for Lord Worthington, who
betrayed a consciousness of guilt by attempting to avoid
her. But she cut off his retreat, and confronted him
with a steadfast gaze that compelled him to stand and
answer for himself.

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 1 1 3

"Who is that gentleman whom you introduced to
me ? I have forgotten his name."

"I am really awfully sorry, Mrs. Hoskyn. It
was too bad of Byron. But Webber was excessively
nasty."

Mrs. Hoskyn, additionally annoyed by apologies which
she had not invited, and which put her in the ignominious
position of a complainant, replied coldly, " Mr. Byron.
Thank you : I had forgotten," and was turning away
when Lydia came up to introduce Alice, and to explain
why she had entered unannounced. Lord Worthington
seized the chance of improving CashePs credit by claiming
Lydia's acquaintance for him.

" Did you hear our friend Byron's speech, Miss Carew?
Very characteristic, I thought."

" Very," said Lydia. " I hope Mrs. Hoskyn's guests
are all familiar with his style. Otherwise they must find
him a little startling."

"Yes," said Mrs. Hoskyn, beginning to wonder
whether Cashel could be some well-known eccentric
genius. " He is very odd. I hope Mr. Webber is not
offended."

"If his tact had been equal to the other gentle-
man's, it would not have happened to him," said Lydia.
"It is really very clever of Mr. Byron to knock my
cousin down in the middle of a drawing-room without
scandalizing anybody."

" You see, Mrs. Hoskyn, the general verdict is c serve
him right,' " said Lord Worthington.

" With a rider to the effect that both gentlemen dis-
played complete indifference to the comfort of their
hostess," said Lydia. " However, men so rarely sacrifice
their manners to their minds that it would be a pity to
blame them. You do not encourage conventionality,
Mrs. Hoskyn ? "

I

114 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

"I encourage good manners, though certainly not
conventional manners."

" And you think there is a difference ? "

" I feel that there is a difference," said Mrs. Hoskyn
with dignity.

" So do I," said Lydia ; " but one can hardly call
others to account for one's own subjective ideas."

Lydia went away to another part of the room without
waiting for a reply. All this time, Cashel stood friend-
less, stared at by most of his neighbors, and spoken to
by none. Women looked at him coldly lest it should be
suspected that they were admiring him ; and men
regarded him stiffly according to the national custom.
Since his recognition of Lydia, his self-confidence had
given place to a misgiving that he had been making a
fool of himself. He felt lonely and abashed : but for his
professional habit of maintaining a cheerful countenance
under adverse circumstances, he would have hid himself
in the darkest corner of the room. Like many eminent
members of his profession, he was rather prone to tears
when his feelings were wounded ; and his countenance was
falling rapidly when Lord Worthington came up to him.

" I had no idea you were such an orator, Byron," he
said. "You can go into the Church when you cut the
other trade. Eh ? "

" I wasnt brought up to the other trade," said Cashel ;
"and I know how to talk to ladies and gentlemen as
well as to what youd suppose to be my own sort. Dont
you be anxious about me, my lord. I know how to make
myself at home."

"Of course, of course," said Lord Worthington
soothingly. " Every one can see by your manners that
you are a gentleman : they recognize that even in the
ring. Otherwise, you see — I know you wont mind my
saying so — I darent have brought you here."

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 1 1 5

Cashel shook his head, but was pleased. He thought
he hated flattery : had Lord Worthington told him that
he was the best boxer in England — which he probably
was — he would have despised him. But he wished to
believe the false compliment to his manners, and was
therefore perfectly convinced of its sincerity. Lord
Worthington perceived this, and retired, pleased with his
own tact, in search of Mrs. Hoskyn, to claim her promise
of an introduction to Madame Szczymplica, which Mrs.
Hoskyn, by way of punishing him for CashePs mis-
demeanor, had privately determined not to keep.

Cashel began to think he had better go. Lydia was
surrounded by men who were speaking to her in German.
He felt his own inability to talk learnedly even in
English ; and he felt sure, besides, that she was angry
with him for upsetting her cousin, who was gravely
conversing with Miss GofF. Suddenly a horrible noise
caused a general start and pause. Mr. Jack, the eminent
composer, had opened the pianoforte, and was illustrating
some points in a musical composition under discussion by
making discordant sounds with his voice, accompanied
by a few chords. Cashel laughed aloud in derision as
he made his way towards the door through the crowd,
which was now pressing round the pianoforte, at which
Madame Szczymplica had just come to the assistance of
Jack. Near the door, and in a corner remote from the
instrument, he came upon Lydia and a middle-aged
gentleman, evidently neither a professor nor an artist.

" Abngas is a very clever man," the gentleman was
saying. " I am sorry I didnt hear the lecture. But I
leave all that to Mary. She receives the people who enjoy
high art upstairs ; and I take the sensible men down to the
garden or the smoking-room, according to the weather."

"What do the sensible women do ? " said Lydia.

fc They come late," said Mr. Hoskyn, and then laughed

n6 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

at his repartee until he became aware of the vicinity of
Cashel, whose health he immediately inquired after,
shaking his hand warmly and receiving a numbing grip
in return. As soon as he saw that Lydia and Cashel
were acquainted, he slipped away and left them to
entertain one another.

" I wonder how he knows me," said Cashel, heartened
by her gracious reception of a nervous bow. " I never
saw him before in my life."

" He does not know you," said Lydia, with some
sternness. " He is your host, and therefore concludes
that he ought to know you."

" Oh ! That was it, was it ? " He paused, at a loss
for conversation. She did not help him. At last he
added, " I havent seen you this long time, Miss Carew."

" It is not very long since I saw you, Mr. Cashel Byron.
I saw you yesterday at some distance from London."

" Oh Lord ! " exclaimed Cashel, " dont say that.
Youre joking, aint you ? "

" No. Joking, in that sense, does not amuse me."

Cashel looked at her in consternation. " You dont
mean to say that you went to see a — a — Where —
when did you see me ? You might tell me."

" Certainly. It was at Clapham Junction, at a quarter
past six."

" Was any one with me ? "

" Your friend Mr. Mellish, Lord Worthington, and
some other persons."

"Yes. Lord Worthington was there. But where
were you ? "

cc In a waiting-room, close to you."

"I never saw you," said Cashel, very red. "Mellish
drove our trap into a ditch and broke it : we had to get
home by train. We must have looked a queer lot.
Did you think I was in bad company ? "

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 117

" That was not my business, Mr. Cashel Byron."

" No," said Cashel, with sudden bitterness. " What
did you care what company I kept ? Youre mad with
me because I made your cousin look like a fool, I
suppose. Thats whats the matter."

Lydia, speaking in a low tone to remind him that
they were not alone, said, " There is nothing the matter,
except that you act and speak like a grown-up boy rather
than a man. I am not mad with you because of your attack
upon my cousin ; but he is very much annoyed j and so is
Mrs. Hoskyn, whose guest you were bound to respect."

" I knew youd be down on me. I wouldnt have said
a word if I'd known you were here," said Cashel de-
jectedly. " Lie down and be walked over : thats what
you think I'm fit for. Another man would have twisted
his head off."

" Is it possible that you do not know that gentlemen
never twist one another's heads off in society, no matter
how great may be the provocation ? "

" I know nothing," said Cashel, with plaintive sullen-
ness. " Everything I do is wrong. There ! Will that
satisfy you ? "

" I take no pleasure in making you confess yourself in
the wrong ; and you cannot have a lower opinion of me
than to think that I do."

"Thats just where youre mistaken," said Cashel
obstinately. " I havent got a low opinion of you at all.
There's such a thing as being too clever."

" You may not know that it is a low opinion. Never-
theless, it is so."

cc Well, have it your own way. I'm wrong again ;
and youre right."

" So far from being gratified by that, I had rather we
were both in the right and agreed. Can you understand
that ? "

1 1 8 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

" I cant say I do. But I give in to it. What more
need you care for ? "

"Please, I had rather you understood. Let me try to
explain. You think I like to be cleverer than other
people. You are mistaken. I should like them all to
know whatever I know."

Cashel laughed cunningly, and shook his head.
" Dont you make any mistake about that," he said.
"You dont want anybody to be quite as clever as
yourself: it isnt in human nature that you should.
Youd like people to be just clever enough to shew you
off — to be worth beating. But you wouldnt like them
to be able to beat you. Just clever enough to know
how much cleverer you are : thats about the mark.
Eh ? "

Lydia made no further effort to enlighten him. She
looked at him thoughtfully, and said slowly, "So this
perpetual fighting metaphor is the clue to your idiosyn-
crasy. You have attached yourself to the modern
doctrine of a struggle for existence, and look on life as a
continual combat."

« A fight ? Just so. What is life but a fight ? The
curs forfeit or get beaten ; the rogues sell the fight and
lose the confidence of their backers ; the game ones, and
the clever ones, win the stakes, and have to hand over the
lion's share of them to the moneyed loafers that have
stood the expenses ; and luck plays the devil with them
all in turn. Thats not the way they describe life in
books ; but thats what it is." ;.

"Oddly put, and perhaps true. But it is not the
creed of the simpleton you pretended to be a moment
ago. You are playing with me — revealing your wisdom
from beneath a veil of the boyish. My compliments on
your excellent acting. I have no more to say."

" May I be shot if I understand you ! I'd rather be

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 119

a horse than an actor. Come: is it because I raised a
laugh against your cousin that youre so spiteful ? "

Lydia looked earnestly and doubtfully at him ; and he
instinctively put his head back, as if it were in danger.
" You do not understand, then ? " she said. " I will test
the genuineness of your stupidity by an appeal to your
obedience."

" Stupidity ! Go on."

" But will you obey me, if I lay a command upon you ? "

" I will go through fire and water for you."

Lydia blushed faintly, and paused to wonder at the
novel sensation before she resumed. "You had better
not apologize to my cousin : partly because you would
only make matters worse : chiefly because he does not
deserve it. But you must make this speech to Mrs.
Hoskyn when you are going : 4 1 am very sorry I
forgot myself ' "

" Sounds like Shakespear, doesnt it ? " observed Cashel.

" Ah ! the test has found you out : you are only
acting after all. But that does not alter my opinion that
you should apologize."

"All right. I dont know what you mean by testing
and acting ; and I only hope you know yourself. But
no matter : I'll apologize : a man like me can afford to.
I'll apologize to your cousin too, if you like."

" I do not like. But what has that to do with it ? I
suggest these things, as you must be aware, for your own
sake and not for mine."

" As for my own, I dont care twopence : I do it all
for you. I dont even ask whether there is anything
between you and him."

"Would you like to know ? " said Lydia deliberately,
after a pause of astonishment.

" Do you mean to say youll tell me ? " he exclaimed.
" If you do, I'll say youre as good as gold."

120 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

" Certainly I will tell you. There is an old friendship
and cousinship between us ; but we are not engaged,
nor at all likely to be. I tell you so because you would
draw the opposite and false conclusion if I avoided the
question."

" I am glad of it," said Cashel, unexpectedly becoming
very gloomy. " He isnt man enough for you. But he's
your equal, damn him ! "

" He is my cousin, and, I believe, my sincere friend.
Therefore please do not damn him."

" I know I shouldnt have said that. But I am only
damning my own luck."

"Which will not improve it in the least."

" I know that. You neednt have said it. I wouldnt
have said a thing like that to you, stupid as I am."

" Oh, you are impossible : I meant nothing. How-
ever, that does not matter. You are still an enigma to
me. Had we not better try to hear a little of Madame
Szczympli^a's performance ? "

"I'm a pretty plain enigma, I should think," said
Cashel mournfully. " I would rather have you than any
other woman in the world ; but youre too rich and
grand for me. If I cant have the satisfaction of marrying
you, I may as well have the satisfaction of saying I'd
like to."

" Hardly a fair way of approaching the subject," said
Lydia composedly, but with a play of color again in her
cheeks. " Allow me to forbid it unconditionally. I
must be plain with you, Mr. Cashel Byron. I do not
know what you are or who you are ; and I believe you
have tried to mystify me on both points —

"And you never shall find out either the one or
the other if I can help it," put in Cashel ; " so that
we're in a preciously bad way of coming to a good
understanding."

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 121

" True," assented Lydia. " I do not make secrets ; I
do not keep them ; and I do not respect them. Your
humor clashes with my principle."

" You call it a humor ! " said Cashel angrily.
" Perhaps you think I'm a duke in disguise. If so, you
may think better of it. If you had a secret, and the
discovery of it would cause you to be kicked out of
decent society, you would keep it pretty tight. And that
through no fault of your own, mind you ; but through
downright cowardice and prejudice in other people."

"There are at least some fears and prejudices common
in society that I do not share," said Lydia, after a
moment's reflection. "Should I ever find out your
secret, do not too hastily conclude that you have forfeited
my consideration."

" You are just the last person on earth I want to be
found out by. But youll find out fast enough. Pshaw ! "
cried Cashel, with a laugh : " I'm as well known as
Trafalgar Square. But I cant bring myself to tell you ;
and I hate secrets as much as you do ; so lets drop it and
talk about something else."

" We have talked long enough. The music is over ;
and the people will return to this room presently, perhaps
to ask me who and what is the stranger that made them
such a remarkable speech."

"Just a word. Promise me that you wont ask any of
them that."

" Promise you ! No. I cannot promise that."

"O Lord f " said Cashel, with a groan.

" I have told you that I do not respect secrets. For
the present I will not ask ; but I may change my mind.
Meanwhile we must not hold long conversations. I
even hope that we shall not meet. There is only one
thing that I am too rich and grand for — mystification.
Adieu."

122 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

Before he could reply, she was away from him in the
midst of a number of gentlemen, and in conversation
with one of them. Cashel seemed overwhelmed. But
in an instant he recovered himself, and stepped jauntily
before Mrs. Hoskyn, who had just come into his
neighborhood.

u I'm going, maam," he said. " Thank you for a
pleasant evening. I'm very sorry I forgot myself.
Good-night."

Mrs. Hoskyn, naturally frank, felt some vague response
within herself to this address. But, though not usually
at a loss for words in social emergencies, she only looked
at him, blushing slightly, and offering her hand. He
took it as if it were a tiny baby's hand ; gave it a little
pinch j and turned to go. Mr. Adrian Herbert, the
painter, was directly in his way, with his back towards
him.

"\i you please, sir," said Cashel, taking him gently by
the ribs, and lifting him aside as if he were a tailor's
dummy. The artist turned indignantly ; but Cashel
was passing the doorway. On the stairs he met Lucian
and Alice.

" Good-night, Miss Goff," he said. " It's a pleasure
to see the country roses in your cheeks." He lowered
his voice as he added, to Lucian, " Dont you worry
yourself over that little trick I shewed you. If any of
your friends chaff you about it, tell them that it was
Cashel Byron did it, and ask them whether they think
they could have helped themselves any better than you
could. Dont ever let a person come within distance of
you while youre standing in that silly way on both your
heels. Why, if a man isnt properly planted on his pins,
a broom -handle falling against him will upset him.
Thats the way of it. Good-night."

Lucian returned the salutation, mastered by a certain

Chap. VI Cashel Byron's Profession 123

latent dangerousness in Cashel, suggestive that he might
resent a snub by throwing the offender over the balus-
trade. As for Alice, she had entertained a superstitious
dread of him ever since Lydia had pronounced him a
ruffian. Both felt relieved when the house door, closing,
shut him out from them.

CHAPTER VII

SOCIETY was much occupied during Alice's first season in
London with one of the accidents of the beginnings of
England's destiny in South Africa. When Destiny
takes nations into new places, it offers them the choice
of marching boldly with it and understanding it, or
being led like pigs to market, intensely recalcitrant,
scuttling in sudden panics or charging in sudden huffs,
and using such rests as its leader gives it, to eat, never to
ask Whither ? How ? or What then ? Only when
Destiny gives the word to stop eating and march, a
useless Why ? is raised, whereupon Destiny, out of
patience, gives the rope a jerk which fetches the poor
pig off his trotters. England, observant of the fact that
the pig's line of conduct shifted all moral responsibility
to his leader, and got the pig finally to his destination
without brain worry, adopted it without hesitation in
Africa, with the result that when the king of a considerable
people there fell, with his territories, into British hands,
the conquest seemed useless, troublesome, and expensive ;
and after repeated attempts to settle the country on im-
practicable plans suggested to the Colonial Office by a
popular historian who had made a trip to Africa, and by
generals who were tired of their primitive remedy of killing
the natives, it appeared that the best course was to release
the king and get rid of the unprofitable booty by restoring

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 125

it to him. However, as the pig policy had enabled him
to win one battle against English troops, it was thought
advisable to take him first to London, and shew him the
wonders of English civilization, especially in the matter
of cannon and high explosives.

But when the African king arrived, his freedom from
English prepossessions made it difficult to amuse, or even
to impress him. A stranger to the idea that a handful of
private persons could own a country and make others pay
them for permission to live and work there, he was unable
to understand why such a prodigiously rich nation should
be composed chiefly of poor and uncomfortable persons
toiling incessantly to create riches, and partly of a class
that confiscated and dissipated the riches thus produced
without seeming in the least happier than the unfortunate
laborers at whose expense they existed. He was seized
with strange fears : first for his health, since it seemed to
him that the air of London, filthy with smoke, engendered
puniness and dishonesty in those who breathed it ; and
eventually for his life, when he learned that kings in
Europe were sometimes shot at in the streets. The
queen of England, though accounted the safest of all, had
had some half dozen escapes ; and the autocrat of an
empire huge beyond all other European countries, whose
father had been torn asunder in the streets of his capital,
lived surrounded by soldiers who shot down every stranger
that approached him, even at his own summons ; so that
he was an object of compassion to the humblest of his
servants. Under these circumstances, the African king
was with difficulty induced to stir out of doors ; and he only
visited Woolwich Arsenal — the destructive resources of
which were expected to silently warn him against
taking the Christian religion too literally — under com-
pulsion. At last the Colonial Office, which had charge
of him, was at its wit's end to devise entertainments to

126 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.vn

keep him in good humor until the time appointed for his
departure.

On the Tuesday following Mrs. Hoskyn's reception,
Lucian Webber, calling at his cousin's house in Regent's
Park, said, in the course of conversation,

" The Colonial Office has had an idea. The king, it
appears, is something of an athlete, and is curious to
witness what Londoners can do in that way. So a grand
assault-at-arms is to be held for him."

" What is an assault-at-arms ? " said Lydia. <c I have
never been at one ; and the name suggests nothing but
an affray with bayonets."

"It is an exhibition of swordsmanship, military drill,
gymnastics, and so forth."

" I will go to that," said Lydia. " Will you come,
Alice ? "

" Is it usual for ladies to go to such exhibitions ? "
said Alice cautiously.

" On this occasion ladies will go for the sake of seeing
the king," said Lucian. " The Olympian gymnastic
society, which has undertaken the direction of the civilian
part of the assault, expects what it calls a flower-show
audience."

" Will you come, Lucian ? "

" If I can be spared, yes. If not, I will ask Worth-
ington to go with you. He understands such matters
better than I."

"Then let us have him by all means," said Lydia.

" I cannot see why you are so fond of Lord
Worthington," said Alice. " His manners are good ;
but there is nothing in him. Besides, he is so young. I
cannot endure his conversation. He has begun to talk
about Goodwood already."

" He will grow out of his excessive addiction to sport,"
said Lucian, paternally.

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 127

" Indeed ! " said Lydia. " And what will he grow
into ? "

" Possibly into a more reasonable man," said Lucian,
unabashed.

" I hope so," said Lydia ; c< but I prefer a man who
is interested in sport to a gentleman who is interested in
nothing."

"Much might indubitably be said from that point of
view. But it is not necessary that Lord Worthington
should waste his energy on horse-racing. I presume you
do not think political life, for which his position peculiarly
fits him, unworthy his attention."

"Party tactics are both exciting and amusing, no
doubt. But are they better than horse-racing ? Jockeys
and horse-breakers at least know their business : members
of parliament do not. Is it pleasant to sit on a bench —
even though it be the Treasury bench — and listen to
amateur discussions about matters that have been settled
for the last hundred years to the satisfaction of everybody
who has seriously studied them ? "

" You do not understand the duties of a government,
Lydia. You never approach the subject without con-
firming my opinion that women are constitutionally
incapable of comprehending it."

"It is natural for you to think so, Lucian. The
House of Commons is to you the goal of existence. To
me it is only an assemblage of ill-informed gentlemen
who have botched every business they have ever under-
taken, from the first committee of supply down to the
last land Act ; and who arrogantly assert that I am not
good enough to sit with them."

" Lydia," said Lucian, annoyed : " you know that I
respect women in their own sphere "

" Then give them another sphere, and perhaps they
will earn your respect in that also. I am sorry to say

128 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VII

that men, in their sphere, have not won my respect.
Enough of that for the present. I have to make some
arrangements before I go out. They are of more
immediate importance than the conversion of a willing
Conservative into a reluctant Women's Suffragist. Excuse
me for five minutes."

She left the room. Lucian sat down and gave his
attention to Alice, who had still enough of her old
nervousness to straighten her shoulders and look stately.
But he did not object to this : a little stiffness of manner
gratified his taste.

" I hope," he said, " that my cousin has not succeeded
in inducing you to adopt her peculiar views."

u No," said Alice. " Of course her case is quite
exceptional. She is so wonderfully accomplished ! In
general, I do not think women should have views.
There are certain convictions which every lady holds :
for instance, we know that Roman Catholicism is wrong.
But that can hardly be called a view : indeed it would
be wicked to call it so, as it is one of the highest truths.
What I mean is that women should not be political
agitators."

" I understand and quite agree with you. Lydia's is,
as you say, an exceptional case. She has lived much
abroad ; and her father was a very singular man. Even
the clearest heads, when removed from the direct
influence of English life and thought, contract extra-
ordinary prejudices. It is almost a pity that such
strength of mind and extent of knowledge should be
fortified by the dangerous independence which great
wealth confers. Advantages like these bring with them
certain duties to the class that has produced them —
duties to which Lydia is not merely indifferent, but
absolutely hostile."

" I never meddle with her ideas on — on these subjects.

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 129

I am too ignorant to understand them. But Miss
Carew's generosity to me has been unparalleled. And
she does not seem to know that she is generous. I owe
more to her than I ever can repay." " At least," Alice
added to herself, " I am not ungrateful."

Miss Carew now reappeared, dressed in a long grey
coat and plain beaver hat, and carrying a roll of writing
materials.

" I am going to the British Museum to read," said
she.

" To walk ! — alone ! " said Lucian, looking at her
costume.

"Yes. Prevent me from walking and you deprive
me of my health. Prevent me from going alone where
I please and when I please, and you deprive me of my
liberty — tear up Magna Charta, in effect. But I do not
insist upon being alone in this instance. If you can
return to your office by way of Regent's Park and
Gower Street without losing too much time, I shall be
glad of your company."

Lucian decorously suppressed his eagerness to comply
by looking at his watch, and pretending to consider his
engagements. In conclusion, he said that he should be
happy to accompany her.

It was a fine summer afternoon ; and there were
many people in the park. Lucian was soon incommoded
by the attention his cousin attracted. In spite of the
black beaver, her hair shone like fire in the sun. Women
stared at her with unsympathetic curiosity, and turned
as they passed to examine her attire. Men resorted to
various subterfuges to get a satisfactory look without
rudely betraying their intention. A few stupid youths
gaped ; and a few impudent ones smiled. Lucian would
gladly have kicked them all without distinction. He
suggested that they should leave the path, and make a

K

130 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VII

short cut across the greensward. As they emerged from
the shade of the trees, he had a vague impression that
the fineness of the weather and the beauty of the park
made the occasion romantic, and that the words by
which he hoped to make the relation between him and
his cousin dearer and closer would be well spoken there.
But he immediately began to talk, in spite of himself,
about the cost of maintaining the public parks, par-
ticulars of which happened to be within his official
knowledge. Lydia, readily interested by facts of any
sort, thought the subject not a bad one for a casual
afternoon conversation, and pursued it until they left the
turf and got into the Euston Road, where the bustle of
traffic silenced them for a while. When they escaped
from the din into the respectable quietude of Gower
Street, he suddenly said,

" It is one of the evils of great wealth in the hands of

a woman, that she can hardly feel sure " Here his

ideas fled suddenly. He stopped ; but he kept his
countenance so well that he had the air of having made
a finished speech, and being perfectly satisfied with it.

" Do you mean that she can never feel sure of the
justice of her title to her riches ? That used to trouble
me ; but it no longer does so."

"Nonsense!" said Lucian. "I alluded to the dis-
interestedness of your friends."

" That does not trouble me either. Absolutely dis-
interested friends I do not seek, as I should only find
them among idiots or somnambulists. As to those whose
interests are base, they do not know how to conceal their
motives from me. For the rest, I am not so unreasonable
as to object to a fair account being taken of my wealth in
estimating the value of my friendship."

" Do you not believe in the existence of persons who
would like you just as well if you were poor ? "

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 1 3 1

" Such persons would wish me to become poor, merely
to bring me nearer to themselves ; for which I should not
thank them. I set great store by the esteem my riches
command, Lucian. It is the only set-off I have against
the envy they inspire."

"Then you would refuse to believe in the dis-
interestedness of any man who — who "

" Who wanted to marry me ? On the contrary : I
should be the last person to believe that a man could
prefer my money to myself. If he were independent,
and in a fair way to keep his place in the world without
my help, I should despise him if he hesitated to approach
me for fear of misconstruction. I do not think a man is
ever thoroughly honest until he is superior to that fear.
But if he had no profession, no money, and no aim
except to live at my expense, then I should regard him as
an adventurer, and treat him as one — unless I fell in love
with him."

" Unless you fell in love with him ? "

"That — assuming that such things really happen —
might make a difference in my feeling, but none in my
conduct. I would not marry an adventurer under any
circumstances. I could cure myself of a misdirected
passion, but not of a bad husband."

Lucian said nothing : he walked on with long irregular
steps, lowering at the pavement as if it were a difficult
problem, and occasionally thrusting at it with his stick.
At last he looked up and said,

"Would you mind prolonging our walk a little by
going round Bedford Square with me ? I have some-
thing particular to say."

She turned and complied without a word ; and they
had traversed one side of the square before he spoke
again.

" On second thoughts, Lydia, this is neither the time

132 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.vil

nor the place for an important communication. Excuse
me for having taken you out of your way for nothing."

" I do not like this, Lucian. Important communica-
tions— in this case — corrupt good manners. If your
intended speech is a sensible one, the present is as good
a time, and Bedford Square as good a place, as you are
likely to find for it. If it is otherwise, confess that you
have decided to leave it unsaid. But do not postpone
it. Reticence is always an error — even on the Treasury
bench. It is doubly erroneous in dealing with me ; for
I have a constitutional antipathy to it."

" Yes," he said hurriedly ; " but give me one moment
— until the policeman has passed."

The policeman went leisurely by, striking the flags
with his heels, and slapping his palm with a white glove.

"The fact is, Lydia, that I feel great diffi-
culty "

" What is the matter ? " said Lydia, after waiting in
vain for further particulars. "You have broken down
twice." There was a pause. Then she looked at him
quickly, and added, incredulously, " Are you going to
get married ? Is that the secret that 'ties your practised
tongue ? "

" Not unless you take part in the ceremony."

" Very gallant ; and in a vein of humor that is new
in my experience of you. But what have you to
tell me, Lucian ? Frankly, your hesitation is becoming
ridiculous."

" You have certainly not made matters easier for me,
Lydia. Perhaps you have a womanly intuition of my
purpose, and are intentionally discouraging me."

" Not the least. I am not good at intuitions, womanly
or otherwise. On my word, if you do not confess at once,
I will hurry away to the Museum."

" I cannot find a suitable form of expression," said

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 133

Lucian, in painful perplexity. " I am sure you will not
attribute any sordid motive to my — well, to my addresses,
though the term seems absurd. I am too well aware that
there is little, from the usual point of view, to tempt you
to unite yourself to me. Still "

A rapid change in Lydia's face shewed him that he
had said enough. " I had not thought of this," she
said, after a silence that seemed long to him. cc Our
observations are so meaningless until we are given the
thread to string them on ! You must think better of
this, Lucian. The relation that at present exists between
us is the very best that our different characters will admit
of. Why do you desire to alter it ? "

" Because I would make it closer and more permanent.
I do not wish to alter it otherwise."

"You would run some risk of destroying it by the
method you propose," said Lydia, with composure.
"We could not work together. There are differences
of opinion between us amounting to differences of
principle."

"Surely you are not serious. Your opinions, or
notions, are not represented by any political party in
England ; and therefore they are practically ineffective,
and could not clash with mine. And such differences
are not personal matters."

"Such a party might be formed a week after our
marriage — will, I think, be formed a long time before
our deaths. In that case I fear that our difference of
opinion would become a very personal matter."

He began to walk more quickly as he replied, " It
is too absurd to set up what you call your opinions as
a serious barrier between us. You have no opinions,
Lydia. The impracticable crotchets you are fond of
airing are not recognized in England as sane political
convictions."

134 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.vn

Lydia did not retort. She waited a minute in pensive
silence, and then said,

"Why do you not marry Alice Goff?"

« Oh, hang Alice Goff!"

"It is so easy to come at the man beneath the veneer
by chipping at his feelings," said Lydia, laughing. " But
I was serious, Lucian. Alice is energetic, ambitious, and
stubbornly upright in questions of principle. I believe
she would assist you steadily at every step of your career.
Besides, she has physical robustness. Our student stock
needs an effusion of that."

" Many thanks for the suggestion ; but I do not happen
to want to marry Miss Goff."

" I invite you to consider it. You have not had time
yet to form any new plans."

" New plans ! Then you absolutely refuse me —
without a moment's consideration ? "

" Absolutely, Lucian. Does not your instinct warn
you that it would be a mistake to marry me ? "

" No, I cannot say that it does."

"Then trust to mine, which gives forth no uncertain
note on this question, as your favorite newspapers are
fond of saying."

" It is a question of feeling," he said, in a constrained
voice.

" Is it ? " she replied with interest. " You have sur-
prised me somewhat, Lucian. I have never observed any
of the extravagances of a lover in your conduct."

" And you have surprised me very unpleasantly,
Lydia. I do not think now that I ever had much hope
of success ; but I thought, at least, that my disillusion
would be gently accomplished."

" Have I been harsh ? "

" I do not complain."

" I was unlucky, Lucian -, not malicious. Besides,

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 135

the artifices by which friends endeavor to spare one
another's feelings are petty disloyalties. I am frank
with you. Would you have me otherwise ? "

" Of course not. I have no right to be offended."

cc Not the least. Now add to that formal admission a
sincere assurance that you are not offended."

" I assure you I am not," said Lucian, with melancholy
resignation.

They had by this time reached Charlotte Street ;
and Lydia tacitly concluded the conference by turning
towards the Museum, and beginning to talk upon
indifferent subjects. At the corner of Russell Street he
got into a cab and drove away, dejectedly acknowledging
a smile and wave of the hand with which she tried to
console him. Lydia then went to the national library,
where she forgot Lucian. The effect of the shock of
his proposal was in store for her ; but as yet she did not
feel it ; and she worked steadily until the library was
closed and she had to leave. As she had been sitting for
some hours, and it was still light, she did not take a cab,
and did not even walk straight home. She had heard of
a bookseller in Soho who had for sale a certain scarce
volume which she wanted ; and it occurred to her that
the present was a good opportunity to go in search of
him. Now there was hardly a capital in Western
Europe that she did not know better than London. She
soon lost herself in a labyrinth of narrow streets of once
fashionable dwelling-houses, long ago turned into small
shops or let in tenements, and now succumbing to a slow
but steady invasion of large business houses. Neverthe-
less it was not the bustle of trade that broke the curious
Soho quietude. The shops did not seem to do much
business ; the big counting-houses kept their activity
within doors ; the few clerks, tradesmen, and warehouse-
men who were about had the air of slipping across to the

136 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VI

public-houses rather than of having urgent affairs in hand.
But the place was alive with children, who flocked
and chattered and darted about like sparrows, putting
their elders out of countenance and making the patiently
constructed haunts of commerce their playground.

Lydia noted one small boy looking wistfully through
the window of a sweetshop, evidently in the keenest
want of money. To him she proposed that he should
guide her back to the Broad Street of that region. He
embraced the offer greedily, and presently led her thither
by way of Lexington Street. She thanked him, and
gave him the smallest coin in her purse, which happened
to be a shilling. He, in a transport at possessing what
was to him a fortune, uttered a piercing yell, and darted
off to shew the coin to a covey of small boys who had
just raced into view round the corner by the public-
house. In his haste, he dashed headlong against one of
the usual group outside, a powerfully built young man,
who cursed him fiercely. The boy retorted passionately,
and then, hurt by the collision, began to cry. When
Lydia came up, the child stood whimpering directly in
her path ; and she, pitying him, patted him on the head
and reminded him of all the money he had to spend.
He seemed comforted, and scraped his eyes with his
knuckles in silence ; but the man, who, having received
a rude butt in the groin, was stung by Lydia's injustice
in according to the aggressor the sympathy due to him-
self, walked threateningly up to her, and demanded, with
a startling oath, whether he had offered to do anything to
the boy. And, as he refrained from applying any epithet
to her, he honestly believed that in deference to Lydia's
sex and personal charms he had expressed himself with a
dashing combination of gallantry with manly heat of
spirit. She, not appreciating his chivalry, recoiled, and
stepped into the roadway in order to pass him. Indignant

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 137

at this attempt to ignore him, he again placed himself in
her path, and was repeating his question with increased
sternness, when a jerk in the pit of his stomach caused
him a severe internal qualm, besides disturbing his
equilibrium so rudely that he narrowly escaped a fall
against the kerbstone. When he recovered himself he
saw before him a showily dressed young man, who
thus accosted him :

" Is that the way to talk to a lady, eh ? Isnt the
street wide enough for two ? Where's your manners ? "

" And who are you ; and where are you shoving your
elbow to ? " said the man, with a surpassing imprecation.

"Come, come," said Cashel Byron admonitorily.
" Youd better keep your mouth clean if you wish to
keep your teeth inside it. Never you mind who I am."

Lydia, foreseeing an altercation, and alarmed by the
threatening aspect of the man, sensibly resolved to hurry
away and send a policeman to CashePs assistance. But
on turning she discovered that a crowd had already
gathered, and that she was in the novel position of a
spectator in the inner ring at what promised to be a
street fight. Her attention was recalled to the disputants
by a violent demonstration on the part of her late
assailant. Cashel seemed alarmed ; for he hastily re-
treated a step without regard to the toes of those behind
him, and exclaimed, waving the other off with his open
hand,

u Now you just let me alone. I dont want to have
anything to say to you. Go away from me, I tell you."

" You dont want to have nothink to say to me !
Oh ! And for why ? Because you aint man enough :
thats why. What do you mean by coming and shoving
your elbow into a man's breadbasket for, and then want-
ing to sneak off? Did you think I'd 'a bin frightened
of your velvet coat ? "

138 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.vil

" Very well," said Cashel pacifically : "we'll say that
I'm not man enough for you. So thats settled. Are
you satisfied ? "

But the other, greatly emboldened, declared with
many oaths that he would have Cashel's heart out, and
also, if he liked, that of Lydia, to whom he alluded in
coarse terms. The crowd cheered, and called upon him
to " go it." Cashel then said sullenly,

" Very well. But dont you try to make out after-
wards that I forced a quarrel on you. And now," he
added, with a grim change of tone that made Lydia
shudder, and shifted her fears to the account of his
antagonist, " I'll make you wish youd bit your tongue
out before you said what you did a moment ago. So
take care of yourself."

" Oh, I'll take care of myself," said the man, defiantly.
" Put up your hands."

Cashel surveyed his opponent's attitude with unspeak-
able disparagement. " Youll know when my hands
are up by the feel of the pavement," he said. " Better
keep your coat on. Youll fall softer."

The rough expressed his repudiation of this counsel
by beginning to strip energetically. A nameless thrill
passed through the crowd. Those who had bad places
pressed forward ; and those who formed the inner ring
pressed back to make room for the combatants. Lydia,
who occupied a coveted position close to Cashel, hoped
to be hustled out of the throng ; for she was beginning
to feel faint and ill. But a handsome butcher, who had
found a place by her side, held that she was entitled to
the post of honor in the front row, and bade her not
be frightened. As he spoke, the mass of faces before
Lydia seemed to give a sudden lurch. To save herself
from falling, she slipped her arm through the butcher's ;
and he, much gratified, tucked her close to him, and

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 139

held her up effectually. His support was welcome,
because it was needed.

Meanwhile, Cashel stood motionless, watching with
unrelenting contempt the movements of his adversary,
who rolled up his discolored shirt sleeves amid en-
couraging cries of cc Go it, Teddy," " Give it im, Ted,"
and other more precise suggestions. But Teddy's spirit
was chilled : he advanced with a presentiment that he
was courting destruction. He dared not rush on his
foe, whose eye seemed to discern his impotence. When
at last he ventured to strike, the blow fell short, as
Cashel evidently knew it would ; for he did not stir.
There was a laugh and a murmur of impatience in the
crowd.

" Are you waiting for the copper to come and separate
you ? " shouted the butcher. " Come out of your
corner and get to work, cant you ? "

This reminder that the police might baulk him of his
prey seemed to move Cashel. He took a step forward.
The excitement of the crowd rose to a climax ; and a
little man near Lydia cut a frenzied caper and screamed,
" Go it, Cashel Byron."

At these words Teddy was frankly terror-stricken.
His hands went down hastily ; and a pitiable green pallor
flitted across his cheek. " It aint fair," he exclaimed,
retreating as far as he could : " I give in. Cut it, master :
youre too clever for me." But the cruel crowd, with a
jeer, pushed him towards Cashel, who advanced remorse-
lessly. Teddy dropped on both knees. "What can a
man say more than that he's had enough ? " he pleaded.
" Be a Englishman, master ; and dont hit a man when
he's down."

" Down ! " said Cashel. " How long will you stay
down if I choose to have you up ? " And, suiting the
action to the word, he seized Teddy with his left hand ;

140 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VII

lifted him to his feet ; threw him in a helpless position
across his knee ; and poised his right fist like a hammer
over his upturned face. "Now," he said, "youre not
down. What have you to say for yourself before I
knock your face down your throat ? "

" Dont do it, govnor," gasped Teddy. " I didnt
mean no harm. How was I to know that the young
lady was your fancy ? " Here he struggled a little ;
and his face took a darker hue. " Let go, master," he
cried, almost inarticulately. " Youre ch — choking me."

" Pray let him go," said Lydia, disengaging herself
from the butcher and catching Cashel's arm.

Cashel, with a start, relaxed his grasp ; and Teddy
rolled on the ground. He went away thrusting his
hands into his sleeves, and outfacing his disgrace by a
callous grin. Cashel, without speaking, offered Lydia
his arm ; and she, seeing that her best course was to get
away from that place with as few words as possible,
accepted it, and then turned and thanked the butcher,
who blushed and became speechless. The little man,
he whose exclamation had interrupted the combat, now
waved his hat, crying,

" The British Lion for ever ! Three cheers for
Cashel Byron."

Cashel turned upon him curtly, and said, u Dont you
make so free with other people's names, or perhaps you
may get into trouble yourself."

The little man retreated hastily ; but the crowd
responded with three cheers as Cashel, with Lydia on his
arm, withdrew through a lane of disreputable-looking
girls, roughs of Teddy's class, white-aproned shopmen
who had left their counters to see the fight, and a few
pale clerks, who looked with awe at the prizefighter and
with wonder at the refined appearance of his companion.
The two were followed by a double file of little raga-

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 141

muffins, who, with their eyes fixed earnestly on Cashel,
walked on the footways whilst he conducted Lydia down
the middle of the narrow street. Not one of them
turned a somersault or uttered a shout. Intent on their
hero, they pattered along, coming into collision with
every object that lay in their path. At last Cashel
stopped. They instantly stopped too. He took some
bronze coin from his pocket ; rattled it in his hand ; and
addressed them.

" Boys." Dead silence. " Do you know what I have
to do to keep up my strength ? " The hitherto steadfast
eyes wandered uneasily. " I have to eat a little boy for
supper every night, the last thing before going to bed.
Now, I havent quite made up my mind which of you
would be the most to my taste ; but if one of you comes
a step further, I'll eat him. So away with you." And
he jerked the coins to a considerable distance. There
was a yell and a scramble ; and Cashel and Lydia
pursued their way unattended.

Lydia had taken advantage of the dispersion of the
boys to detach herself from Cashel's arm. She now
said, speaking to him for the first time since she had
interceded for Teddy,

" I am sorry to have given you so much trouble, Mr.
Cashel Byron. Thank you for interfering to protect mej
but I was in no real danger. I would gladly have borne
with a few rough words for the sake of avoiding a
disturbance."

« There ! " cried Cashel. « I knew it. Youd a deal
rather I had minded my own business and not interfered.
Youre sorry for the poor fellow I treated so badly : aint
you now ? Thats a woman all over."

" I have not said one of these things."

"Well, I dont see what else you mean. It's no
pleasure to me to fight chance men in the streets for

142 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VII

nothing : I dont get my living that way. And now that
I have done it for your sake, you as good as tell me I
ought to have kept myself quiet."

" Perhaps I am wrong. I hardly understand what
passed. You seemed to drop from the clouds."

" Aha ! You were glad when you found me at your
elbow, in spite of your talk. Come now : werent you
glad to see me ? "

" I confess it : very glad indeed. But by what
magic did you so suddenly subdue that man ? And was
it necessary to sully your hands by throttling him ? "

<c It was a satisfaction to me ; and it served him right."

"Surely a very poor satisfaction! Did you notice
that some one in the crowd called out your name ; and
that it seemed to frighten the man terribly ? "

" Indeed. Odd, wasnt it ? But you were saying that
you thought I dropped from the sky. Why, I had been
following you for five minutes before ! What do you
think of that ? If I may take the liberty of asking, how
did you come to be walking round Soho at such an hour
with a little boy ? "

Lydia explained. When she finished, it was nearly
dark. They had reached Oxford Street, where, like
Lucian in Regent's Park that afternoon, she became
conscious that her companion was an object of curiosity
to many of the wayfarers, especially the cabmen and
omnibus drivers.

" Alice will think I am lost," she said, making a signal
to a cabman, who made his horse plunge to obey it.
" Good-bye ; and many thanks. I am always at home
on Fridays, and shall be very happy to see you."

She handed him a card. He took it ; read it ; looked
at the back to see if there was anything written there 5
and then said dubiously,

" I suppose there will be a lot of people."

Chap. VII Cashel Byron's Profession 143

w Yes, you will meet plenty of people."

<c Hm ! I wish youd let me see you home now. I
wont ask to go any further than the gate."

Lydia laughed. " You should be very welcome," she
said ; " but I am quite safe, thank you. I need not
trouble you."

" But suppose the cabman bullies you for double fare,"
persisted Cashel. u I have business up in Kilburn ; and
your place is right in my way there. Upon my soul I
have," he added, suspecting that she doubted him. "I
go every Tuesday evening to the St. John's Wood Cestus
Club."

"I am hungry and in a hurry to get home," said
Lydia. "CI must begone and live, or stay and die.'
Come if you will ; but in any case let us go at once."

She got into the cab ; and Cashel followed, making
some remark which she did not quite catch about its
being too dark for any one to recognize him. They
spoke little during the drive, which was soon over.
Bashville was standing at the open door as they came to
the house. When Cashel got out, the footman looked
at him with interest and some surprise. But when Lydia
alighted, he was so startled that he stood open-mouthed,
although he was trained to simulate insensibility to
everything except his own business, and to do that as
automatically as possible. Cashel bade Lydia good-bye,
and shook hands with her. As she went into the house,
she asked Bashville whether Miss Goff was within. To
her surprise, he paid no attention to her, but stared after
the retreating cab. She repeated the question.

"Madam," he said, recovering himself with a start:
" she has asked for you four times."

Lydia, relieved of a disagreeable suspicion that her
usually faultless footman must be drunk, thanked him
and went upstairs.

CHAPTER VIII

ONE morning a handsome young man, elegantly dressed,
presented himself at Downing Street, and asked to see
Mr. Lucian Webber. He declined to send in a card,
and desired to be announced simply as "Bashville."
Lucian had him admitted at once ; and, when he entered,
condescended to him and invited him to sit down.

" I thank you, sir," said Bashville, seating himself.
It struck Lucian then, from a certain strung-up resolution
in his visitor's manner, that he had come on some
business of his own, and not with a message from his
mistress.

" I have come, sir, on my own responsibility this
morning. I hope you will excuse the liberty."

" Certainly. If I can do anything for you, Bashville,
dont be afraid to ask. But be as brief as you can. I am
so busy that every second I give you will probably come
off my night's rest. Will ten minutes be enough ? "

"More than enough, sir, thank you. I only wish to
ask one question. I own that I am stepping out of my
place to ask it ; but I'll risk that. Does Miss Carew
know what the Mr. Cashel Byron is that she receives
every Friday with her other friends ? "

" No doubt she does," said Lucian, at once becoming
cold in his manner, and looking severely at Bashville.
" What business is that of yours ? "

Chap. VIII Cashel Byron's Profession 145

" Do you know what he is, sir ? " said Bashville,
returning Lucian's gaze steadily. Lucian changed
countenance, and replaced a pen that had slipped from a
rack on his desk. "He is not an acquaintance of
mine," he said. " I only know him as a friend of Lord
Worthington's."

" Sir," said Bashville, with sudden vehemence, " he is
no more to Lord Worthington than the racehorse his
lordship bets on. 7 might as well set up to be a friend
of his lordship because I, after a manner of speaking,
know him. Byron is in the ring, sir. A common
prizefighter ! "

Lucian, recalling what had passed at Mrs. Hoskyn's,
believed the assertion at once. But he made a faint
effort to resist conviction. "Are you sure of this,
Bashville ? " he said. " Do you know that your state-
ment is a very serious one ? "

"There is no doubt at all about it, sir. Go to any
sporting public-house in London and ask who is the best-
known fighting man of the day, and theyll tell you
Cashel Byron. I know all about him, sir. Perhaps you
have heard tell of Ned Skene, who was champion, belike,
when you were at school."

" I believe I have heard the name."

"Just so, sir. Ned Skene picked up this Cashel
Byron in the streets of Melbourne, where he was a
common sailor boy, and trained him for the ring. You
may have seen his name in the papers, sir. The sporting
ones are full of him ; and he was mentioned in The Times
a month ago."

" I never read articles on such subjects. I have
hardly time to glance through the ones that concern me."

"Thats the way it is with everybody, sir. Miss
Carew never thinks of reading the sporting intelligence
in the papers ; and so he passes himself off on her for her

146 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.vill

equal. He's well known for his wish to be thought a
gentleman, sir, I assure you."

" I have noticed his manner as being odd, certainly."

" Odd, sir ! Why, a child might see through him ;
for he has not the sense to keep his own secret. Last
Friday he was in the library ; and he got looking at the
new biographical dictionary that Miss Carew contributed
the article on Spinoza to. And what do you think he
said, sir ? c This is a blessed book,' he says. c Here's
ten pages about Napoleon Bonaparte, and not one about
Jack Randall : as if one fighting man wasnt as good as
another ! ' I knew by the way Miss Carew took up
that saying, and drew him out, so to speak, on the
subject, that she didnt know who she had in her house ;
and then I determined to tell you, sir. I hope you wont
think that I come here behind his back out of malice
against him. All I want is fair play. If I passed myself
off on Miss Carew as a gentleman, I should deserve to
be exposed as a cheat ; and when he tries to take
advantages that dont belong to him, I think I have a
right to expose him."

" Quite right, quite right," said Lucian, who cared
nothing for Bashville's motives. " I suppose this Byron
is a dangerous man to have any personal unpleasantness
with."

"He knows his business, sir. I am a better judge of
wrestling than half of these London professionals ; but I
never saw the man that could put a hug on him. Simple
as he is, sir, he has a genius for fighting, and has beaten
men of all sizes, weights, and colors. There's a new
man from the black country, named Paradise, who says
he'll beat him ; but I wont believe it til I see it."

" Well," said Lucian, rising, " I am much indebted to
you, Bashville, for your information ; and I shall take
care to let Miss Carew know how you have —

Chap. VIII Cashel Byron's Profession 147

"Begging your pardon, sir," said Bashville ; "but, if
you please, no. I did not come to recommend myself
at the cost of another man ; and perhaps Miss Carew
might not think it any great recommendation neither."
Lucian looked quickly at him as if about to speak, but
checked himself, Bashville continued, " If he denies it,
you may call me as a witness j and I will tell him to his
face that he lies — and so I would if he were twice as
dangerous ; but, except in that way, I would ask you,
sir, as a favor, not to mention my name to Miss
Carew."

" As you please," said Lucian, taking out his purse.
" Perhaps you are right. However, you shall not have
your trouble for nothing."

" I couldnt really, sir," said Bashville, retreating a
step. " You will agree with me, I'm sure, that this is
not a thing that a man should take payment for. It is a
personal matter between me and Byron, sir."

Lucian, displeased that a servant should have any
personal feelings on any subject, much more one that
concerned his mistress, put back his purse without
comment, and said, " Will Miss Carew be at home this
afternoon between three and four ? "

" I have not heard of any arrangement to the
contrary, sir. I will telegraph to you if she goes out —
if you wish."

" It does not matter. Thank you. Good morning."

" Good morning, sir," said Bashville respectfully, as
he withdrew. Outside the door his manner changed.
He put on a pair of cinnamon gloves ; took up a silver-
mounted walking stick which he had left in the corridor ;
and walked from Downing Street into Whitehall. A
party of visitors from the country, standing there
examining the buildings, guessed that he was a junior
lord of the Treasury.

148 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.vill
He waited in vain that afternoon for Lucian to appear
at the house in Regent's Park. There were no callers ;
and he wore away the time by endeavoring, with the
aid of the library Miss Carew had placed at the
disposal of her domestics, to unravel the philosophy of
Spinoza. At the end of an hour, feeling satisfied that
he had mastered that author's views, he proceeded to
vary the monotony of the long summer's day by polish-
ing Lydia's plate.

Meanwhile, Lucian was considering how he could best
make Lydia not only repudiate Cashel's acquaintance,
but feel thoroughly ashamed of herself for having en-
couraged him, and wholesomely mistrustful of her own
judgment for the future. His secretarial duties had
taught him to provide himself with a few well-arranged
relevant facts before attempting to influence the opinions
of others on any subject. He knew no more of prize-
fighting than that it was a brutal and illegal practice,
akin to cockfighting, and, like it, generally supposed to
be obsolete. Knowing how prone Lydia was to suspect
any received opinion of being a prejudice, he felt that
he must inform himself more particularly. To Lord
Worthington's astonishment, he not only asked him to
dinner next evening, but listened with interest whilst Jie
expatiated to his heart's content on his favorite theme
of the ring.

As the days passed, Bashville became nervous, and
sometimes wondered whether Lydia had met her cousin
and heard from him of the interview at Downing Street.
He fancied that her manner towards him was changed ;
and he was once or twice on the point of asking the
most sympathetic of the housemaids whether she had
noticed it. On Wednesday his suspense ended. Lucian
came, and had a long conversation with Lydia in the
library. Though Bashville was too honorable to listen

Chap. VIII Cashel Byron's Profession 149

at the door, he almost hoped that the sympathetic house-
maid would prove less scrupulous. But Miss Carew had
contrived to leave her servants some self-respect ; and
Lucian's revelation was made in complete privacy.

When he entered the library, he looked so serious that
she asked him whether he had neuralgia, from which he
occasionally suffered. He replied with some indignation
that he had not, and that he had a communication of im-
portance to make to her.

" What ! Another ! "

"Yes, another," he said, with a sour smile; "but this
time it does not concern myself. May I warn you as to
the character of one of your guests without overstepping
my privilege ? "

" Certainly. Do you mean ChefFsky ? If so, I am
perfectly aware that he is a proscribed Nihilist."

"I do not mean Monsieur Cheffsky. You under-
stand, I hope, that I do not approve of him, nor of your
strange fancy for Nihilists, Anarchists, and other doubt-
ful persons ; but I think that even you might draw the
line at a prizefighter."

Lydia lost color, and said, almost inaudibly, "Cashel
Byron ! "

" Then you knew / " exclaimed Lucian, scandalized.

Lydia waited a moment to recover ; settled herself
quietly in her chair ; and replied calmly, " I know what
you tell me — nothing more. And now will you explain
to me exactly what a prizefighter is ? "

" He is simply what his name indicates. He is a man
who fights for prizes."

" So does the captain of a man-of-war. And yet society
does not place them in the same class — at least I do not
think so."

"As if there could be any doubt that society does
not ! There is no analogy whatever between the two

150 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VIII
cases. Let me endeavor to open your eyes a little, if
that be possible, which I am sometimes tempted to
doubt. A prizefighter is usually a man of naturally
ferocious disposition, who has acquired some reputation
among his associates as a bully j and who, by constantly
quarrelling, has acquired some practice in fighting. On
the strength of this reputation, he can generally find
some gambler willing to stake a sum of money that he
will vanquish a pugilist of established fame in single
combat. Bets are made between the admirers of the
two men ; a prize is subscribed for, each party contri-
buting a share ; the combatants are trained as racehorses,
gamecocks, or their like are trained ; they meet, and
beat each other as savagely as they can until one or the
other is too much injured to continue the combat. This
takes place in the midst of a mob of such persons as
enjoy spectacles of the kind : that is to say, the vilest
blackguards a large city can afford to leave at large, and
many whom it can not. As the prize-money contributed
by each side often amounts to upwards of a thousand
pounds ; and as a successful pugilist commands far higher
terms for giving tuition in boxing than a tutor at one of
the universities does for coaching ; you will see that such
a man, whilst his youth and luck last, may have plenty
of money, and may even, by aping the manners of the
gentlemen whom he teaches, deceive careless people —
especially those who admire eccentricity — as to his true
character and position."

" What is his true position ? I mean before he
becomes a prizefighter."

" Well, he may be a skilled workman of some kind : a
journeyman butcher, skinner, tailor, or baker. Possibly
a discharged soldier, sailor, gentleman's servant, or what
not ? But he is generally a common laborer. The
waterside is prolific of such heroes."

Chap. VIII Cashel Byron's Profession 151

" Do they never come from a higher rank ? "

" Never even from the better classes in their own.
Broken-down gentlemen are not likely to succeed at
work that needs the strength and endurance of a bull,
and the cruelty of a butcher."

"But what becomes of them in the end? They
cannot keep at such work all their lives."

" They do not. When through age a prizefighter is
found to be repeatedly beaten, no one will either bet on
him or subscribe to provide him with a stake. Or if he
is invariably successful, those, if any, who dare fight him
find themselves in a like predicament. In either case
his occupation is gone. If he has saved money, he opens
a sporting public-house, where he sell spirits of the worst
description to his old rivals and their associates, and
eventually drinks himself to death or bankruptcy. If,
however, he has been improvident or unfortunate, he
begs from his former patrons and gives lessons. Finally,
when the patrons are tired of him and the pupils fail, he
relapses into the dregs of the laboring class with a
ruined constitution, a disfigured face, a brutalized nature,
and a tarnished reputation."

Lydia remained silent so long after this that Lucian's
magisterial severity first deepened, then wavered, and
finally gave way to a sense of injury ; for she seemed to
have forgotten him. He was about to protest against
this treatment, when she looked at him again, and said,

"Why did Lord Worthington introduce a man of
this class to me ? "

"Because you asked him to do so. Probably he
thought that if you chose to make such a request without
previous inquiry, you should not blame him if you found
yourself saddled with an undesirable acquaintance.
Recollect that you asked for the introduction on the
platform at Wiltstoken, in the presence of the man

152 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VIII

himself. Such a ruffian would be capable of making a
disturbance for much less offence than an explanation
and refusal would have given him."

" Lucian," said Lydia : " I asked to be introduced to
my tenant, for whose respectability you had vouched by
letting the Warren Lodge to him." Lucian reddened.
" How does Lord Worthington explain Mr. Byron's
appearance at Mrs. Hoskyn's ? "

"It was a stupid joke. Mrs. Hoskyn had worried
Worthington to bring some celebrity to her house ; and
in revenge he took his pugilistic protege"

«Hm!"

" I do not defend Worthington. But discretion is
hardly to be expected from him."

" He has discretion enough to understand a case of
this kind thoroughly. But let that pass. I have been
thinking upon what you tell me about these singular
people, whose existence I hardly knew of before. Now,
Lucian, in the course of my reading I have come upon
denunciations of every race and pursuit under the sun.
Very respectable and well-informed men have held that
Jews, Irishmen, Christians, atheists, lawyers, doctors,
politicians, actors, artists, flesh-eaters, and spirit-drinkers,
are all of necessity degraded beings. Such statements
can be easily proved by taking a black sheep from each
flock, and holding him up as the type. It seems reason-
able to infer a man's character from the nature of his
occupation : still, who would act upon an opinion based
on that alone ? War is a cruel business ; but soldiers
are not exceptionally bloodthirsty and inhuman men.
I am not quite satisfied that a prizefighter is a violent
and dangerous man because he follows a violent and
dangerous profession — I suppose they call it a profession."

Lucian was about to speak ; but she interrupted him
by continuing,

Chap. VIII Cashel Byron's Profession 153

"And yet that is not what concerns me at present.
Have you found out anything about Mr. Byron
personally ? Is he an ordinary representative of his
class ? "

" No : I should rather think — and hope — that he is a
very extraordinary representative of it. I have traced
his history back to the time when he was a cabin-boy.
Having apparently failed to recommend himself to his
employers in that capacity, he became errand boy to a
sort of maltre d^armes at Melbourne. Here he dis-
covered where his genius lay ; and he presently appeared
in the ring with an unfortunate young man named
Ducket, whose jaw he fractured. This laid the founda-
tion of his fame. He fought several battles with un-
varying success ; but at last he allowed his valor to get
the better of his discretion so far as to kill an English-
man who fought him with desperate obstinacy for two
hours. I am informed that the particular blow by which
he felled the poor wretch for the last time is known in
pugilistic circles as 'Cashel's killer,' and that he has
attempted to repeat it in all his subsequent encounters,
without, however, achieving the same fatal result. The
failure has doubtless been a severe disappointment to him.
He fled from Australia, and reappeared in America,
where he resumed his victorious career, distinguishing
himself specially by throwing a gigantic opponent in
some dreadful fashion that these men have, and laming
him for life. He then "

" Thank you, Lucian," said Lydia, rather faintly.
"That is quite enough. Are you quite sure it is all
true ? "

"My authority is Lord Worthington, and the files
of the sporting newspapers. Byron himself will prob-
ably be proud to give you the fullest confirmation of
the record. I should add, in justice to him, that he

154 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. VIII
is looked upon as a model — to pugilists — of temperance
and general good conduct."

" Do you remember my remarking a few days ago,
on another subject, how meaningless our observations
are until we are given the right thread to string them
on ? "

" Yes," said Lucian, disconcerted by the allusion.

" My acquaintance with this man is a case in point.
He has obtruded his horrible profession upon me every
time we have met. I have actually seen him publicly
cheered as a pugilist-hero ; and yet, being off the track,
and ignorant of the very existence of such a calling, I
have looked on and seen nothing."

Lydia then narrated her adventure in Soho, and
listened with the perfect patience of indifference to his
censure of her imprudence in walking by herself in town.

" May I ask," he added, " what you intend to do in
this matter ? "

" What would you have me do ? "

"Drop his acquaintance at once. Forbid him your
house in the most explicit terms."

"A pleasant task!" said Lydia ironically. "But I
will do it — not so much, perhaps, because he is a
prizefighter as because he is an impostor. Now go to
the writing table, and draft me a proper letter to send
him."

Lucian's face elongated. "I think," he said, "you
can do that better for yourself. It is a delicate sort of
thing."

"Yes. It is not so easy as you implied a moment
ago. Otherwise I should not require your assistance.
As it is " She pointed again to the table.

Lucian was not ready with an excuse. He sat down
reluctantly, and, after some consideration, indited the
following : —

Chap. VIII Cashel Byron's Profession 155

Miss Carew presents her compliments to Mr. Cashel
Byron^ and begs to Inform him that she will not be at home
during the remainder of the season as heretofore. She
therefore regrets that she cannot have the pleasure of receiv-
ing him on Friday afternoon.

" I think you will find that sufficient," said Lucian.

" Probably," said Lydia, smiling as she read it.
" But what shall I do if he takes offence ; calls here ;
breaks the windows ; and beats Bashville. That is what
such a letter would provoke me to do."

" He dare not give any trouble. But I will warn the
police if you feel anxious."

" By no means. We must not shew ourselves inferior
to him in courage, which is, I suppose, his cardinal
virtue."

" If you write the note now, I will post it for you."

"No, thank you. I will send it with my other
letters."

Lucian tried to wait ; but she would not write whilst
he was there. So he left, satisfied on the whole with
the success of his mission. When he was gone, she
endorsed his draft neatly, and placed it in a drawer.
Then she wrote to Cashel thus : —

Dear Mr. Cashel Byron

I have just discovered your secret. I am sorry ; but you
must not come again. Farewell. Tours faithfully^

Lydia Carew.

Lydia kept this note by her until next morning, when
she read it through carefully. She then sent Bashville
to the post with it.

CHAPTER IX

CASHEL'S pupils sometimes requested him to hit them
hard — not to play with them — to accustom them to
regular right-down severe hitting, and no nonsense.
He only pretended to comply ; for he knew that a black
eye or loosened tooth would be immoderately boasted of
if received in combat with a famous pugilist, and that
the sufferer's friends would make private notes to avoid
so rough a professor. But when Miss Carew's note
reached him, he made an exception to his practice in
this respect. A young guardsman, whose lesson began
shortly after the post arrived, remarked that Cashel was
unusually distraught, and exhorted him to wake up and
pitch in in earnest. Instantly a blow in the epigastrium
stretched him almost insensible on the floor. His
complexion was considerably whitened when he was
set on his legs again ; and he presently alleged an
urgent appointment, and withdrew, declaring in a shaky
voice that that was the sort of bout he really enjoyed.

When he was gone, Cashel walked distractedly to and
fro, cursing, and occasionally stopping to read the letter.
His restlessness only increased his agitation. The arrival
of a Frenchman whom he employed to give lessons in
fencing made the place unendurable to him. He
changed his attire ; went out ; called a cab ; and bade
the driver, with an oath, drive to Lydia's house as fast

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 157

as the horse could go. The man made all the haste he
could, and was presently told impatiently that there was
no hurry. Accustomed to this sort of inconsistency, he
was not surprised when, as they approached the house,
he was told not to stop, but to drive slowly past. Then,
in obedience to further instructions, he turned and re-
passed the door. As he did so, a lady appeared for an
instant at a window. Immediately his fare, with a
groan of mingled rage and fear, sprang from the moving
vehicle ; rushed up the steps of the mansion ; and rang
the bell violently. Bashville, faultlessly dressed and
impassibly mannered, opened the door. In reply to
CashePs half inarticulate inquiry, he said,

" Miss Carew is not at home."

"You lie," said Cashel, his eyes suddenly dilating.
« I saw her."

Bashville reddened, but replied coolly, "Miss Carew
cannot see you to-day."

" Go and ask her," returned Cashel sternly, advancing.

Bashville, with compressed lips, seized the door to
shut him out ; but Cashel forced it back against him
and went in, shutting the door behind him. He turned
from Bashville for a moment to do this ; and before he
could face him again he was tripped and flung down
upon the tesselated pavement of the hall. When
Bashville was given the lie, and pushed back behind
the door, the excitement he had been suppressing since
his visit to Lucian exploded. He had thrown Cashel in
Cornish fashion, and now desperately awaited the upshot.

Cashel got up so rapidly that he seemed to rebound
from the flags. Bashville, involuntarily cowering before
his onslaught, just escaped his right fist, and felt as
though his heart had been drawn with it as it whizzed
past his ear. He turned and fled frantically upstairs.

Lydia was in her boudoir with Alice when Bashville

158 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

darted in and locked the door. Alice rose and screamed.
Lydia, though startled, and that less by the unusual
action than by the change in a familiar face which she
had never seen influenced by emotion before, sat still,
and quietly asked what was the matter. Bashville
checked himself for a moment. Then he spoke un-
intelligibly, and went to the window, which he opened.
Lydia divined that he was about to call for help to the
street.

" Bashville," she said authoritatively : " be silent -9 and
close the window. I will go downstairs myself."

Bashville then ran to prevent her from unlocking the
door ; but she paid no attention to him. He did not
dare to oppose her forcibly. He was beginning to
recover from his panic, and to feel the first stings of
shame for having yielded to it.

" Madam," he said : " Byron is below ; and he insists
on seeing you. He's dangerous ; and he's too strong for
me. I have done my best : on my honor I have. Let
me call the police. Stop," he added, as she opened the
door. " If either of us goes, it must be me."

"I will see him in the library," said Lydia com-
posedly. " Tell him so ; and let him wait there for me
— if you can speak to him without running any risk."

"Oh pray let him call the police," urged Alice.
" Dont attempt to go to that man."

" Nonsense ! " said Lydia good-humoredly. " I am
not in the least afraid. We must not fail in courage
when we have a prizefighter to deal with."

Bashville, white, and with difficulty preventing his
knees from knocking together, but not faltering for a
second, went devotedly downstairs and found Cashel
leaning upon the balustrade, panting, and looking
perplexedly about him as he wiped his dabbled brow.
Bashville halted on the third stair ; and said,

Chap IX Cashel Byron's Profession 159

"Miss Carew will see you in the library. Come this
way, please."

CashePs lips moved ; but no sound came from them :
he followed Bashville in silence. When they entered
the library, Lydia was already there. Bashville withdrew
without a word. Then Cashel sat down, and, to her
consternation, bent his head on his hand, and yielded
to a hysterical convulsion. Before she could resolve
how to act, he looked up at her with his face distorted
and discolored, and tried to speak.

" Please dont cry," said Lydia. " I am told that you
wish to speak to me."

"I dont wish to speak to you ever again," said
Cashel hoarsely. " You told your servant to throw me
down the steps. Thats enough for me."

Lydia caught from him the tendency to sob which he
was struggling with ; but she repressed it, and answered
firmly, "If my servant has been guilty of the least
incivility to you, Mr. Cashel Byron, he has exceeded
his orders."

"It doesnt matter," said Cashel. "He may thank
his luck that he has his head on. But he doesnt matter.
Hold on a bit — I cant talk — I shall get — second wind —

and then " Cashel raised his head with a curiously

businesslike expression ; threw himself supinely against
the back of his chair ; and in that position deliberately
rested until he could trust himself to speak. At last
he pulled himself together, and said, "Why are you
going to give me up ? " '

Lydia ranged her wits in battle array, and replied,
c; Do you remember our talk at Mrs. Hoskyn's ? "

"Yes."

"You admitted then that if the nature of your
occupation became known to me, our acquaintance should

160 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, ix

" That was all very fine to excuse my not telling
you. But I find, like many another man when put to
the proof, that I didnt mean it. Who told you I was a
fighting man ? "

" I had rather not tell you that."

" Aha ! " said Cashel, with a triumph that was half
choked by the remnant of his hysteria. " Who is trying
to make a secret now, I should like to know ? "

" I do so in this instance because I am afraid to expose
a friend to your resentment."

" And why ? He's a man, of course : else you
wouldnt be afraid. You think that I'd go straight off
and murder him. Perhaps he told you that it would
come quite natural to a man like me — a ruffian like me
— to smash him up. That comes of being a coward.
People run my profession down, not because there is a
bad one or two in it — there's plenty of bad bishops, if
you come to that — but because they re afraid of us.
You may make yourself easy about your friend. I am
accustomed to get well paid for the beatings I give ; and
your own common sense ought to tell you that any one
who is used to being paid for a job is just the last person
in the world to do it for nothing."

"I find the contrary to be the case with first-rate
artists," said Lydia.

" Thank you," retorted Cashel sarcastically. " I
ought to make you a bow for that."

"But," said Lydia seriously, "it seems to me that
your art is wholly anti- social and retrograde. And I
fear that you have forced this interview on me to no
purpose."

"I dont know whether it's anti-social or not. But I
think it hard that I should be put out of decent society
when fellows that do far worse than I are let in. Who
did I see here last Friday, the most honored of your

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 161

guests ? Why, that Frenchman with the gold spectacles.
What do you think I was told when I asked what his
little game was ? Baking dogs in ovens to see how long
a dog could live red hot ! I'd like to catch him doing
it to a dog of mine. Aye ; and sticking a rat full of nails
to see whether pain makes a rat sweat. Why, it's just
sickening. Do you think I'd have shaken hands with
that chap ? If he hadnt been a friend of yours, I'd
have taught him how to make a Frenchman sweat with-
out sticking any nails into him. And he's to be received
and made much of, while I am kicked out ! Look
at your relation the general, too ! What is he but a
fighting man, I should like to know ? Isnt it his pride
and boast that as long as he is paid so much a day, he'll
ask no questions whether a war is fair or unfair, but just
walk out and put thousands of men in the best way to
kill and be killed — keeping well behind them himself all
the time, mind you. Last year he was up to his chin
in the blood of a lot of poor blacks that were no more
a match for his armed men than a feather-weight would
be for me. Bad as I am, I wouldnt attack a feather-
weight, or stand by and see another heavy man do it.
Plenty of your friends go pigeon-shooting to Hurlingham.
There's a humane and manly way of spending a Saturday
afternoon ! Lord Worthington, that comes to see you
when he likes, though he's too much of a man or too
little of a shot to kill pigeons, thinks nothing of fox-
hunting. Do you think foxes like to be hunted, or that
the people that hunt them have such fine feelings that
they can afford to call prizefighters names ? Look at
the men that get killed or lamed every year at steeple-
chasing, fox-hunting, cricket, and football ! Dozens of
them ! Look at the thousands killed in battle ! Did
you ever hear of any one being killed in the ring ? Why,
from first to last, during the whole century that my sort

M

162 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

of fighting has been going on, there's not been six fatal
accidents at really respectable fights. It's safer than
dancing : many a woman has danced her skirt into
the fire and been burnt. I once fought a man who
had spoiled his constitution with bad living ; and he
exhausted himself so by going on and on long after he
was beaten that he died of it, and nearly finished me
too. If youd heard the fuss that even the old hands
made over it, youd have thought a blessed baby had died
from falling out of its cradle. A good milling does a
man more good than harm. And if all these damned
dog-bakers, and soldiers, and pigeon-shooters, fox-hunters,
and the rest of them, are made welcome here, why am I
shut out like a brute beast ? "

"Truly I do not know," said Lydia, puzzled ; "unless
it be that your profession is not usually recruited from
our ranks."

" I grant you that boxers arnt gentlemen, as a rule.
No more were painters or poets, once upon a time. But
what I want to know is this. Supposing a boxer has as
good manners as your friends, and is as well born, why
shouldnt he mix with them and be considered their
equal? '

"The distinction seems arbitrary, I confess. But
perhaps the true remedy would be to exclude the vivir
sectors and soldiers, instead of admitting the prize-
fighters. Mr. Cashel Byron," added Lydia, changing
her manner : " I cannot discuss this with you. Society
has a prejudice against you. I share it ; and I cannot
overcome it. Can you find no nobler occupation than
these fierce and horrible encounters by which you con-
descend to gain a living ? "

"No," said Cashel flatly. "I cant. Thats. just
where it is."

Lydia looked grave, and said nothing.

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 163

"You dont see it?" said Cashel. "Well, I'll just
tell you all about myself, and then leave you to judge.
May I sit down while I talk ? " He had risen in the
course of his remarks on Lydia's scientific and military
acquaintances.

She pointed to a chair near her. Something in the
action brought color to his cheeks.

"I believe I was the most unfortunate devil of a boy
that ever walked," he began. " My mother was — and is
— an actress, and a tiptop crack in her profession. One
of the first things I remember is sitting on the floor in
the corner of a room where there was a big glass, and
she flaring away before it, attitudinizing and spouting
Shakespear like mad. I was afraid of her, because she
was very particular about my manners and appearance,
and would never let me go near a theatre. I know
nothing about my people or hers ; for she boxed my
ears one day for asking who my father was, and I took
good care not to ask her again. She was quite young
when I was a child : at first I thought her a sort ot
angel. I should have been fond of her, I think, if she
had let me. But she didnt, somehow ; and I had to
keep my affection for the servants. I had plenty of
variety in that way ; for she gave her whole establishment
the sack about once every two months, except a maid
that used to bully her and give me nearly all the nursing
I ever got. I believe it was my crying about some
housemaid or other who went away that first set her
abusing me for having low tastes — a sort of thing that
used to cut me to the heart, and which she kept up till
the very day I left her for good. We were a precious
pair : I sulky and obstinate ; she changeable and hot-
tempered. She used to begin breakfast sometimes bv
knocking me to the other side of the room with a slap,
and finish it by calling me her darling boy and promising

164 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.ix

me all manner of toys and things. I soon gave up
trying to please her or like her, and became as disagree-
able a young imp as youd ask to see. My only thought
was to get all I could out of her when she was in a good
humor, and to be sullen and stubborn when she was in a
tantrum. One day a boy in the street threw some mud
at me ; and I ran in crying, and complained to her.
She told me I was a little coward. I havent forgiven
her for that yet — perhaps because it was one of the few
true things she ever said to me. I was in a state of
perpetual aggravation ; and I often wonder I wasnt
soured for life at that time. At last I got to be such a
little fiend that when she hit me I used to guard off
her blows, and look so wicked that I think she got
afraid of me. Then she put me to school, telling me I
had no heart, and telling the master I was an ungovern-
able young brute. So I, like a little fool, cried at leaving
her ; and she, like a big one, cried back again over me,
— just after telling the master what a bad one I was,
mind you — and off she went, leaving her darling boy and
blessed child howling at his good luck in getting rid of
her.

" I was a nice boy to let loose in a school. I could
speak as well as an actor, as far as pronunciation goes ;
but I could hardly read words of one syllable ; and
as to writing, I couldnt make pothooks and hangers
respectably. To this day, I can no more spell than old
Ned Skene can. What was a worse sort of ignorance
was that I had no idea of fair play. I thought that
all servants would be afraid of me ; and that all grown-
up people would tyrannize over me. I was afraid of
everybody; afraid that my cowardice would be found
out ; and as angry and cruel in my ill-tempers as cowards
always are. Now youll hardly believe this ; but what
saved me from going to the bad altogether was my

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 165

finding out that I was a good one to fight. The bigger
boys were like grown-up people in respect of liking to
see other people fight ; and they used to set us young
ones at it, whether we liked it or not, regularly every
Saturday afternoon, with seconds, bottleholders, and
everything complete, except the ropes. At first, when
they made me fight, I shut my eyes and cried ; but for
all that I managed to catch the other fellow tight round
the waist and throw him. After that, it became a regular
joke to make me fight ; for I always cried. But the end
of it was that I learnt to keep my eyes open and hit
straight. I had no trouble about fighting then. Some-
how, I could tell by instinct when the other fellow was
going to hit me ; and I always hit him first. It's the
same with me now in the ring : I know what a man
is going to do before he rightly knows himself. The
power this gave me, civilized me. In the end it made
me cock of the school ; and, as cock, I couldnt be mean
or childish. There would be nothing like fighting for
licking boys into shape if every one could be cock ; but
every one cant ; so I suppose it does more harm than
good.

" I should have enjoyed school well enough if I had
worked at my books. But I wouldnt study ; and the
masters were all down on me as an idler, though I
shouldnt have been like that if they had known how
to teach : I have learnt since what teaching is. As to
the holidays, they were the worst part of the year to
me. When I was left at school I was savage at not
being let go home ; and when I went home, my
mother did nothing but find fault with my schoolboy
manners. I was getting too big to be cuddled as her
darling boy, you understand. Her treatment of me
was just the old game with the affectionate part left
out. It wasnt pleasant, after being cock of the school,

1 66 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

to be made feel like a good-for-nothing little brat tied
to her apron strings. When she saw that I was learning
nothing, she sent me to another school at a place in
the north called Panley. I stayed there until I was
seventeen ; and then she came one day ; and we had
a row, as usual. She said she wouldnt let me leave
school until I was nineteen ; and so I settled that
question by running away the same night. I got to
Liverpool, where I hid in a ship bound for Australia.
When I was starved out, they treated me better than
I expected ; and I worked hard enough to earn my
passage and my victuals. But when I was left ashore in
Melbourne, I was in a pretty pickle. I knew nobody ;
and I had no money. Everything that a man could live
by was owned by some one or other. I walked through
the town looking for a place where they might want a
boy to run errands or to clean the windows. But I
hadnt the cheek to go into the shops and ask. Two or
three times, when I was on the point of trying, I caught
sight of some cad of a shopman, and made up my mind
that I wouldnt be ordered about by him, and that since
I had the whole town to choose from I might as well go
on to the next place. At last, quite late in the afternoon,
I saw an advertisement stuck up on a gymnasium ; and
while I was reading it I got talking to old Ned Skene,
the owner, who was smoking at the door. He took a
fancy to me, and offered to have me there as a sort of
lad-of-all-work. I was only too glad to get the chance ;
and I closed with him at once. As time went on, I
became so clever with the gloves that Ned matched me
against a light-weight named Ducket, and bet a lot of
money that I would win. Well, I couldnt disappoint
him after his being so kind to me — Mrs. Skene had made
as much of me as if I was her own son. What could I
do but take my bread as it came to me ? I was fit for

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 167

nothing else. Even if I had been able to write a good
hand and keep accounts, I couldnt have brought myself
to think that quilldriving and counting other people's
money was a fit employment for a man. It's not what a
man would like to do that he must do in this world : it's
what he can do ; and the only mortal thing I could do
properly was to fight. There was plenty of money and
plenty of honor and glory to be got among my acquain-
tance by fighting. So I challenged Ducket, and knocked
him all to pieces in about ten minutes. I half killed him,
because I didnt know my own strength and was afraid of
him. I have been at the same work ever since ; for I
never was offered any other sort of job. I was training
for a fight when I was down at Wiltstoken with that old
fool Mellish. It came off the day you saw me at Clap-
ham when J had such a bad eye. Wiltstoken did for me.
With all my fighting, I'm no better than a baby at heart ;
and ever since I found out that my mother wasnt an
angel, I have always had a notion that a real angel would
turn up some day. You see, I never cared much about
women. Bad as my mother was as far as being what you
might call a parent went, she had something in her looks
and manners that gave me a better idea of what a nice
woman was like than I had of most things , and the girls
I met in Australia and America seemed very small
potatoes to me in comparison with her. Besides, of
course they were not ladies. I was fond of Mrs. Skene
because she was good to me ; and I made myself agree-
able, for her sake, to the girls that came to see her ; but
in reality I couldnt stand them. Mrs. Skene said they
were all setting their caps at me — women are death on a
crack fighter — but the more they tried it on the less I
liked them. It was no go : I could get on with the men
well enough, no matter how common they were ; but the
snobbishness of my breed came out with regard to the

1 68 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

women. When I saw you that day at Wiltstoken walk
out of the trees and stand looking so quietly at me and
Mellish, and then go back out of sight without a word,
I'm blest if I didnt think you were the angel come at
last. Then I met you at the railway station and walked
with you. You put the angel out of my head quick
enough ; for an angel, after all, is only a shadowy,
childish notion — I believe it's all gammon about there
being any in heaven — but you gave me a better idea than
mamma of what a woman should be, and you came up to
that idea and went beyond it. I have been in love with
you ever since ; and if I cant have you, I dont care what
becomes of me. I know I am a bad lot, and have always
been one ; but when I saw you taking pleasure in the
society of fellows just as bad as myself, I didnt see why I
should keep away when I was dying to come. I am no
worse than the dog-baker, anyhow. And hang it, Miss
Lydia, I dont want to brag ; but there are clean ways
and dirty ways in prizefighting the same as in anything
else ; and I have tried my best to keep in the clean ways.
I never fought a cross or struck a foul blow in my life ;
and I have never been beaten, though I'm only a middle-
weight, and have stood up with the best fourteen stone
men in the Colonies, the States, or in England."

Cashel ceased. As he sat eyeing her wistfully, Lydia,
who had been perfectly still, said bemusedly,

"I was more prejudiced than I knew. What will you
think of me when I tell you that your profession does
not seem half so shocking now that I know you to be
the son of an artist, and not a journeyman butcher or a
laborer, as my cousin told me."

" What ! " exclaimed Cashel. " That lantern-jawed
fellow told you I was a butcher ! "

" I did not mean to betray him ; but, as I have already
said, I am bad at keeping secrets. Mr. Lucian Webber

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 169

is my cousin and friend, and has done me many services.
May I rest assured that he has nothing to fear from
you ? "

" He has no right to tell lies about me. He is sweet
on you too : I twigged that at Wiltstoken. I have a
good mind to let him know whether I am a butcher or
not."

" He did not say so. What he told me of you, as far
as it went, is exactly confirmed by what you have said
yourself. I happened to ask him to what class men of
your calling usually belonged ; and he said that they
were laborers, butchers, and so forth. Do you resent
that ? "

" I see plainly enough that you wont let me resent it.
I should like to know what else he said of me. But he
was right enough. There are all sorts of blackguards in
the ring : there's no use denying it. Since it's been
made illegal, decent men wont go into it. All the same,
it's not the fighting men, but the betting men, that
bring discredit on it. I wish your cousin had held his
confounded tongue."

" I wish you had forestalled him by telling me the
truth."

" I wish I had, now. But whats the use of wishing ?
I didnt dare run the chance of losing you. See how
soon you forbade me the house when you did find
out."

c It made little difference," said Lydia gravely.

"You were always friendly to me," said Cashel
plaintively.

"More so than you were to me. You should not
have deceived me. And now I think we had better
part. I am glad to know your history ; and I admit
that you made perhaps the best choice that society
offered you. I do not blame you."

170 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

" But you give me the sack. Is that it ? "

"What do you propose, Mr. Cashel Byron ? Is it to
visit my house in the intervals of battering and maiming
butchers and laborers ? "

" No, it's not," retorted Cashel. " Youre very aggra-
vating. I wont stay much longer in the ring now :
my luck is too good to last. Anyhow, I shall have to
retire soon, luck or no luck, because no one can match
me. Even now there's nobody except Bill Paradise
that pretends to be able for me ; and I'll settle him in
September if he really means business. After that, I'll
retire. I expect to be worth ten thousand pounds then.
Ten thousand pounds, I'm told, is the same as five
hundred a year. Well, I suppose, judging from the
style you keep here, that youre worth as much more,
besides your place in the country ; so if you will marry
me we shall have a thousand a year between us. I dont
know much of money matters ; but at any rate we can
live like fighting cocks on that much. Thats a straight
and businesslike proposal, isnt it ? "

" And if I refuse ? " said Lydia, with some sternness.

" Then you may have the ten thousand pounds to do
what you like with," said Cashel despairingly. " It wont
matter what becomes of me. I wont go to the devil for
you or any woman if I can help it ; and I — but where's
the good of saying if you refuse ? I know I dont express
myself properly : I'm a bad hand at sentimentality ; but
if I had as much gab as any of those long-haired fellows
on Friday, I couldnt be any fonder of you, or think more
highly of you."

"But you are mistaken as to the amount of my
income."

"That doesnt matter a bit. If you have more, why,
the more the merrier. If you have less, or if you have
to give up all your property when youre married, I will

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 171

soon make another ten thousand to supply the loss.
Only give me one good word, and, by George, I'll fight
the seven champions of Christendom, one down and
t'other come on, for five thousand a side each. Hang
the money ! "

" I am richer than you suppose," said Lydia, unmoved.
" I cannot tell you exactly how much I possess ; but my
income is about forty thousand pounds."

" Forty thousand pounds ! " ejaculated Cashel. " Holy
Moses ! I didnt think the Queen had as much as
that."

For a moment he felt nothing but mere astonishment.
Then, comprehending the situation, he became very red.
In a voice broken by mortification, he said, " I see I
have been making a fool of myself," and took his hat and
turned to go.

" It does not follow that you should go at once with-
out a word," said Lydia, betraying nervousness for the
first time during the interview.

" Oh, thats all rot," said Cashel. " I may be a fool
while my eyes are shut ; but I'm sensible enough when
theyre open. I have no business here. I wish to the
Lord I had stayed in Australia."

" Perhaps it would have been better," said Lydia,
troubled. " But since we have met, it is useless to

deplore it ; and Let me remind you of one thing.

You have pointed out to me that I have made friends of
men whose pursuits are no better than yours. I do not
wholly admit that ; but there is one respect in which
they are on the same footing as you. They are all, as
far as worldly gear is concerned, much poorer than I.
Most of them, I fear, are poorer — much, much poorer
than you are."

Cashel looked up quickly with returning hope ; but it
lasted only a moment. He shook his head dejectedly.

172 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

"I am at least grateful to you," she continued,
cc because you have sought me for my own sake, knowing
nothing of my wealth."

" I should think not," groaned Cashel. "Your wealth
may be a very fine thing for the other fellows ; and I'm
glad you have it, for your own sake. But it's a settler
for me. So good-bye."

"Good-bye," said Lydia, almost as pale as he had
now become, " since you will have it so."

"Since the devil will have it so," said Cashel rue-
fully. " It's no use wishing to have it any other way.
The luck is against me. I hope, Miss Carew, that
youll excuse me for making such an ass of myself. It's
all my blessed innocence : I never was taught any
better."

" I have no quarrel with you except on the old score
of hiding the truth from me ; and I forgive you that — as
far as the evil of it affects me. As for your declaration
of attachment to me personally, I have received many
similar ones that have flattered me less. But there are
certain scruples between us. You will not court a
woman a hundred-fold richer than yourself; and I will
not entertain a prizefighter. My wealth frightens every
man who is not a knave ; and your profession frightens
every woman who is not a fury."

"Then you Just tell me this," said Cashel

eagerly. "Suppose I were a rich swell, and were not
a "

" No," said Lydia, peremptorily interrupting him. " I
will suppose nothing but what is."

Cashel relapsed into melancholy. "If you onlyhadnt
been kind to me ! " he said. " I think the reason I love
you so much is that youre the only person that is not
afraid of me. Other people are civil because they darent
be otherwise to the cock of the ring. It's a lonely thing

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 173

to be a champion. You knew nothing about that ; and
you knew I was afraid of you ; and yet you were as good
as gold."

"It is also a lonely thing to be a very rich woman.
People are afraid of my wealth, and of what they call
my learning. We two have at least one experience in
common. Now do me a great favor by going. We
have nothing further to say."

"I'll go in two seconds. But I dont believe much in
you being lonely. Thats only fancy."

" Perhaps so. Most feelings of this kind are only
fancies."

There was another pause. Then Cashel said,

" I dont feel half so downhearted as I did a minute
ago. Are you sure that youre not angry with me ? "

" Quite sure. Pray let me say good-bye."

" And may I never see you again ? Never at all ? —
world without end, Amen ? "

"Never as the famous prizefighter. But if a day
should come when Mr. Cashel Byron will be something
better worthy of his birth and nature, I will not forget
an old friend. Are you satisfied now ? "

Cashel's face began to glow, and the roots of his hair
to tingle. "One thing more," he said. "If you meet
me by chance in the street before that, will you give me
a look ? I dont ask for a regular bow, but just a look to
keep me going ? "

"I have no intention of cutting you," said Lydia
gravely. " But do not place yourself purposely in my
way."

"Honor bright, I wont. I'll content myself with
walking through that street in Soho occasionally. Now
I'm off : I know youre in a hurry to be rid of me. So

good-b Stop a bit, though. Perhaps when that

time you spoke of comes, you'll be married."

174 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, ix

"It is possible ; but I am not likely to marry. How
many more things have you to say, that you have no
right to say ? "

"Not one," said Cashel, with a laugh that rang
through the house. " I never was happier in my life,
though I'm crying inside all the time. I'll have a try
for you yet. Good-bye. No," he added, turning from
her proffered hand : " I darent touch it : I should eat
you afterwards." He made for the door, but turned on
the threshold to say in a loud whisper: "Mind, I'm
engaged to you. I dont say youre engaged to me ; but
it's an engagement on my side." And he ran out of the
room.

In the hall was Bashville, pale and determined, wait-
ing there to rush to the assistance of his mistress at her
first summons. He had a poker concealed at hand.
Having just heard a great laugh, and seeing Cashel come
downstairs in high spirits, he stood stock still, not know-
ing what to think.

"Well, old chap," said Cashel boisterously, slapping
him on the shoulder: "so youre alive yet. Is there
any one in the dining-room ? "

" No," said Bashville.

"There's a thick carpet there to fall soft on," said
Cashel, pulling Bashville into the room. " Come along.
Now shew me that little trick of yours again. Come !
dont be afraid : I wont hit you. Down with me. Take
care you dont knock my head against the fire-irons."

« But "

" But be hanged. You were spry enough at it before.
Come ! "

Bashville, after a moment's hesitation, seized Cashel,
who immediately became grave and attentive, and
remained imperturbably so whilst Bashville expertly
threw him. He sat thinking for a moment on the

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 175

hearthrug before he rose. " / see," he said then, getting
up. " Now do it again."

"But it makes such a row," remonstrated Bashville.

" Only once more. There'll be no row this time."

" Well, every man to his taste," said Bashville, com-
plying. But instead of throwing his man, he found
himself wedged into a collar formed by Cashel's arms,
the least constriction of which would have strangled him.
Cashel again roared with laughter as he released him.

" Thats the way, aint it ? " he said. " You cant
catch an old fox twice in the same trap. Do you know
any more falls ? "

"I do," said Bashville ; "but I really cant shew them
to you here. I shall get into trouble on account of the
noise."

"You come down to me whenever you have an
evening out," said Cashel, handing him a card, " to that
address, and shew me what you know ; and I'll see
what I can do with you. There's the making of a man
in you."

"Youre very kind," said Bashville, pocketing the
card with a grin.

" And now let me give you a word of advice that will
be of use to you as long as you live," said Cashel impress-
ively. "You did a damned silly thing to-day. You
threw a man down — a righting man — and then stood
looking at him like a fool, waiting for him to get up and
kill you. If ever you do that again, fall on him as heavily
as you can the instant he's off his legs. Double your
elbow well under you, and see that it gets into a soft
place. If he grabs it and turns you, make play with the
back of your head. If he's altogether too big for you,
put your knee on his throat as if by accident. But on no
account stand and do nothing. It's flying in the face of
Providence."

176 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. IX

Cashel emphasized each of these counsels by an
impressive tap of his forefinger on one of Bashville's
buttons. In conclusion, he nodded ; opened the house-
door 5 and walked away in buoyant spirits.

Lydia, standing near the library window, saw him
go down the long front garden, and observed how his
light alert step, and a certain gamesome assurance of
manner, marked him off from a genteelly promenading
middle-aged gentleman, a trudging workman, and a
vigorously striding youth passing without. The railings
that separated him from them reminded her of the admir-
able and dangerous creatures passing and repassing behind
iron bars in the park yonder. But she exulted, in her
quiet manner, in the thought that, dangerous as he was,
she had no fear of him. When his cabman had found
him and taken him off, she went to a private drawer in
her desk, and took out her father's last letter. She sat
for some time looking at it without unfolding it.

" It would be a strange thing, father," she said, as if
he were actually there to hear her, "if your paragon
should end as the wife of an illiterate prizefighter. I felt
a pang of despair when he replied to my forty thousand
pounds a year with an unanswerable good-bye. And
now he is engaged to me."

She locked up her father, as it were, in the drawer
again, and rang the bell. Bashville appeared, somewhat
perturbed.

" If Mr. Byron calls again, admit him if I am at
home."

" Yes, madam."

"Thank you."

"Begging your pardon, madam, but may I ask has
any complaint been made of me ? "

" None." Bashville was reluctantly withdrawing when
she added, " Mr. Byron gave me to understand that you

Chap. IX Cashel Byron's Profession 177

tried to prevent his entrance by force. You exposed
yourself to needless risk by doing so ; and you may make
a rule in future that when people are importunate, and
will not go away when asked, they had better come
in until you get special instructions from me. I am
not finding fault : on the contrary, I approve of your
determination to carry out your orders ; but under
exceptional circumstances you may use your own
discretion."

" He shoved the door into my face ; and I acted on
the impulse of the moment, madam. I hope you will
forgive the liberty I took in locking the door of the
boudoir. He is older and heavier than I am, madam ;
and he has the advantage of being a professional. Else
I should have stood my ground."

" I am quite satisfied," said Lydia a little coldly, as
she left the room.

" How long you have been ! " cried Alice, almost in
hysterics, as Lydia entered. cc Is he gone ? What were
those dreadful noises ? Is anything the matter ? "

u Dancing and late hours are the matter," said Lydia.
" The season is proving too much for you, Alice."

" It is not the season : it is the man," said Alice, with
a sob.

" Indeed ? I have been in conversation with the man
for more than half an hour ; and Bashville has been in
actual combat with him ; yet we are not in hysterics.
You have been sitting here at your ease, have you not ? "

" I am not in hysterics," said Alice indignantly.

" So much the better," said Lydia gravely, placing
her hand on the forehead of Alice, who subsided with a
sniff.

CHAPTER X

MRS. BYRON, under her stage name of Adelaide Gisborne,
was now, for the second time in her career, talked of in
London, where she had been for many years almost
forgotten. The metropolitan managers of her own
generation had found that her success in new parts was
very uncertain ; that she was more capricious than the
most petted favorites of the public ; and that her invari-
able reply to a business proposal was that she detested the
stage, and was resolved never to set foot upon it again.
So they had managed to do without her for so long that
the younger London playgoers knew her by reputation
only as an old-fashioned actress who wandered through
the provinces palming herself off on the ignorant in-
habitants as a great artist, and boring them with
performances of the plays of Shakespear. It suited Mrs.
Byron well to travel with the nucleus of a dramatic com-
pany from town to town, staying a week or two in each,
and repeating half-a-dozen characters in which she was
very effective, and which she knew so well that she never
thought about them when she had anything else to think
about. Most of the provincial populations received her
annual visits with enthusiasm. Among them she found
herself more excitingly applauded before the curtain, her
authority more despotic behind it, her expenses smaller,
and her gains greater than in London, for which she

Chap.x Cashel Byron's Profession 179

accordingly cared as little as London cared for her. As
she grew older she made more money and spent less.
When she complained to Cashel of the cost of his educa-
tion, she was rich. Since he had relieved her of that
cost, she had visited America, Egypt, India, and the
colonies, and had grown constantly richer. From this
great tour she had returned to England on the day when
Cashel added the laurels of the Flying Dutchman to his
trophies ; and the next Sunday's paper had its sporting
column full of the prowess of Cashel Byron, and its
theatrical column full of the genius of Adelaide Gisborne.
But she never read sporting columns, though he kept an
eye on theatrical ones.

The managers who had formerly avoided Mrs. Byron
were by this time dead, bankrupt, or engaged in less
hazardous pursuits. One of the actor- managers who
succeeded them had lately restored Shakespear to popu-
larity as signally as Cashel had restored the prize ring.
Being anxious to produce the play of King John, he
made the newly returned actress a tempting offer for the
part of Constance, instigating some journalist friends of
his at the same time to lament the decay of the grand
school of acting, and to invent or republish anecdotes
of Mrs. Siddons.

This time Mrs. Byron said nothing about detesting
the stage. She had really detested it once ; but by the
time she was rich enough to give up the theatre she had
worn that feeling out, and had formed a habit of acting
which was as irksome to shake off as any other habit.
She also found a certain satisfaction in making money
with ease and certainty ; and she had already made so
much that she was beginning to trifle with plans of
retirement, of playing in Paris, of taking a theatre in
London, and other whims. The chief public glory of
her youth had been a sudden triumph in London on the

180 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, x

occasion of her first appearance on any stage ; and she
now felt a mind to repeat this and crown her career
where it had begun. So she accepted the manager's
offer, and even went the length of privately reading
King John from beginning to end.

It happened that one of the most curious documents
of the Plantagenet period was a scrap of vellum containing
a fragment of a chronicle of Prince Arthur, with an illu-
minated portrait of his mother. It had been picked up
for a trifling sum by the late Mr. Carew, and was now
in the possession of Lydia, to whom the actor-manager
applied for leave to inspect it. Leave being readily
given, he visited the house in Regent's Park, which he
declared to be an inexhaustible storehouse of treasure.
He deeply regretted, he said, that he could not shew the
portrait to Miss Gisborne. Lydia replied that if Miss
Gisborne would come and look at it, she should be very
welcome. Two days later, at noon, Mrs. Byron arrived
and found Lydia alone. Alice had gone out, feeling that
it was better not to meet an actress — one could never tell
what they might have been.

The years that had elapsed since Mrs. Byron's visit
to Dr. Moncrief had left no perceptible trace on her :
indeed she looked younger now than on that occasion,
because she had been at the trouble of putting on an
artificial complexion. Her careless refinement of manner
was so different from the studied dignity and anxious
courtesy of the actor-manager, that Lydia could hardly
think of them as belonging to the same profession. Her
voice gave a subtle charm to her most commonplace
remarks ; and it was as different as possible from Cashel's
rough tones. Yet Lydia was convinced by the first note
of it that she was Cashel's mother. Besides, they had
one another's chins.

Mrs. Byron, coming to the point without delay,

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 1 8 1

at once asked to see the picture. Lydia brought her
to the library, where several portfolios were ready for
inspection. The precious fragment of vellum was upper-
most.

" Very interesting indeed," said Mrs. Byron, throwing
it aside after one glance at it, and turning over some
later prints, whilst Lydia, amused, looked on in silence.
"Ah," she said: "here is something that will suit me
exactly."

" Do you mean for Constance in King John ? "

"Yes."

" But silk was not made in Western Europe until
three hundred years after Constance's death. And
that drawing is a sketch of Marie de Medicis by
Rubens."

" Never mind," said Mrs. Byron smoothly. " What
does a dress three hundred years out of date matter
when the woman inside it is seven hundred years out ?
What can be a greater anachronism than the death of
Prince Arthur three months hence on the stage of the
Panopticon Theatre ? I am an artist giving life to a
character in romance, I suppose : certainly not a grown-
up child playing at being somebody out of Mrs. Mark-
ham's History of England. I wear whatever becomes
me. I cannot act when I feel dowdy."

" But what will the manager say ? "

" To me ? Nothing," said Mrs. Byron ; and her
calm implied that he had better not. "Besides, you do
not suppose he is a learned person, do you ? And as
he will wear a suit of armor obviously made the other

day in Birmingham, why ! " Mrs. Byron shrugged

her shoulders, and did not take sufficient interest in the
manager's opinion to finish her sentence.

"Is this part of Lady Constance a favorite one of
yours ? "

1 82 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. X

"Troublesome, my dear," said Mrs. Byron absently.
"The men look ridiculous in it ; and it does not draw."

" No doubt," said Lydia, watching her face. " But I
spoke rather of your personal feeling towards the char-
acter. Do you, for instance, like portraying maternal
tenderness on the stage ? "

"Maternal tenderness," said Mrs. Byron with sudden
nobleness, "is far too sacred a thing to be mimicked.
Have you any children ? "

" No," said Lydia demurely. " I am not married."

" You should get a baby : it will do you good,
physically and morally. Maternity is an education in
itself."

" Do you think it suits every woman ? "

"Undoubtedly. Without exception. Only think,
dear Miss Carew, of the infinite patience with which
you must tend a child — of the necessity of seeing with
its little eyes and with your own wise ones at the same
time — of bearing without a reproach the stabs it inno-
cently inflicts — of forgiving its hundred little selfish-
nesses — of living in continual fear of wounding its
exquisite sensitiveness, or rousing its bitter resentment,
of injustice and caprice. Think of how you must watch
yourself; check yourself; exercise and develop everyT
thing in you that can help to attract and retain the most
jealous love in the world ! Believe me, it is a priceless
trial to be a mother. It is a royal compensation for
having been born a woman."

" Nevertheless," said Lydia, " I wish I had been born
a man. Since you seem to have thought deeply on these
matters, I should like to ask you a question. Do you
not think that the acquirement of an art demanding
years of careful self-study and training — such as yours,
for example — is also of great educational value ? Almost
as good a discipline as motherhood, is it not ? "

Chap.x Cashel Byron's Profession 183

" Nonsense ! " said Mrs. Byron decidedly. " People
come into the world ready-made. I went on the stage
when I was eighteen, and succeeded at once. Had I
known anything of the world, or been four years older, I
should have been weak, awkward, timid, and flat : it
would have taken me twelve years to crawl to the front.
But I was young, passionate, beautiful, and indeed
terrible ; for I had run away from home two years
before, and been cruelly deceived. I learned the business
of the stage as easily and thoughtlessly as a child learns a
prayer : the rest came to me by nature. I have seen
others spend years in struggling with bad voices, uncouth
figures, and diffidence ; besides a dozen defects that
existed only in their imaginations. Their struggles may
have educated them ; but had they possessed sufficient
genius they would have needed neither struggle nor
education. Perhaps that is why geniuses are such erratic
people, and mediocrities so respectable. I grant you
that I was very limited when I first came out : I was
absolutely incapable of comedy. But I never took any
trouble about it ; and by-and-by, when I began to mature
a little, and see the absurdity of most of the things I had
been making a fuss about, comedy came to me unsought,
as romantic tragedy had come before. I suppose it would
have come just the same if I had been laboring to
acquire it, except that I should have attributed its
arrival to my own exertions. Most of the laborious
people think they have made themselves what they
are — much as if a child should think it had made itself
grow."

"You are the first artist I ever met," said Lydia,
"who did not claim art as the most laborious of all
avocations. They all deny the existence of genius, and
attribute everything to work."

"Of course one picks up a great deal from experi-

184 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, x

ence; and there is plenty of work on the stage. But
it is my genius which enables me to pick up things,
and to work on the stage instead of in a kitchen or
laundry."

" You must be very fond of your profession."

"I do not mind it now : I have shrunk to fit it. I
began because I couldnt help myself; and I go on
because, being an old woman, I have nothing else to
do. Bless me, how I hated it after the first month !
I must retire soon now. People are growing weary of
me."

" I doubt that. I am bound to assume that you are
an old woman, since you say so ; but you must be aware,
flattery apart, that you hardly seem to have reached your
prime yet."

" I might be your mother, my dear. I might be a
grandmother. Perhaps I am." There was a plaintive
tone in the last sentence ; and Lydia seized the oppor-
tunity.

" You spoke of maternity then from experience, Miss
Gisborne ? "

" I have one son — a son who was sent to me in my
eighteenth year."

" I hope he inherits his mother's genius and personal
grace."

" I am sure I dont know," said Mrs. Byron pensively.
" He was a perfect devil. I fear I shock you, Miss
Carew ; but really I did everything for him that the
most devoted mother could ; and yet he ran away
from me without making a sign of farewell. Little
wretch ! "

" Boys do cruel things sometimes in a spirit of
adventure," said Lydia, watching her visitor's face
narrowly.

" It was not that. It was his temper, which was un-

Chap, x Cashel Byron's Profession 185

governable. He was sulky and vindictive. It is quite
impossible to love a sulky child. I kept him constantly
near me when he was a tiny creature ; and when he
grew too big for that I spent oceans of money on his
education. All in vain ! He never shewed any feeling
towards me except a sense of injury that no kindness
could remove. And he had nothing to complain of.
Never was there a worse son."

Lydia remained silent and grave. Mrs. Byron looked
beside rather than at her. Suddenly she added,

" My poor darling Cashel " (Lydia repressed a start),
" what a shame to talk of you so ! You' see I love him
in spite of his wickedness." Mrs. Byron took out her
pocket-handkerchief; and Lydia was for a moment
alarmed by the prospect of tears. But Miss Gisborne
only blew her nose with perfect composure, and rose to
take her leave. Lydia, who, apart from her interest in
CashePs mother, was attracted and amused by the woman
herself, induced her to stay for luncheon, and presently
discovered from her conversation that she had read much
romance of the Werther sort in her youth, and had,
since then, employed her leisure in reading every book
that came in her way without regard to its quality. Her
acquirements were so odd, and her character so unreason-
able, that Lydia, whose knowledge was unusually well
organized, and who was eminently reasonable, concluded
that she was a woman of genius. For Lydia knew the
vanity of her own attainments, and believed herself to be
merely a patient and well- taught plodder. Mrs. Byron
happening to be pleased with the house, the luncheon,
and the hostess's intelligent listening, her natural charm
became so intensified by her good humor that even
Lydia was quite fascinated, and began to wonder what
its force might have been if some influence — that of a
lover, for instance — had ever made Mrs. Byron ecstatic-

1 86 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. X

ally happy. She surprised herself at last in the act of
speculating whether she could ever make Cashel love
her as his father must, for a time at least, have loved
Mrs. Byron.

When the visitor was gone, Lydia considered whether
she was justified in keeping these two apart. It seemed
plain that at present Cashel was a disgrace to his mother,
and had better remain hidden from her. But if he
should for any reason abandon his ruffianly pursuits, as
she had urged him to do, then she could bring about a
meeting between them ; and the truant's mother might
take better care of him in the future, besides making
him pecuniarily independent of prizefighting. This led
Lydia to ask herself what new profession Cashel could
adopt, and what probability there was of his getting on
with his mother any better than formerly. No satis-
factory answer was forthcoming. So she went back to
the likelihood of his reforming himself for her sake. On
this theme her imagination carried her so far from all
reasonable conjecture, that she was shaking her head at
her own folly when Bashville appeared and announced
Lord Worthington, who came into the room with Alice.
Lydia had not seen him since her discovery of the true
position of the tenant he had introduced to her ; and he
was consequently a little afraid to meet her. To cover
his embarrassment, he began to talk quickly on a number
of commonplace topics. But when some time had
passed, he began to show signs of fresh uneasiness. He
looked at his watch, and said,

" I dont wish to hurry you, ladies ; but this affair
commences at three."

" What affair ? " said Lydia, who was privately
wondering why he had come.

"The assault-at-arms. King Whatshisname's affair.
Webber told me he had arranged for us to go together."

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 187

" Oh, you have come to take us there. I had for-
gotten. Did I promise to go ? "

"Webber said so. He was to have taken you him-
self; but he's busy, and has done a good thing for me
and put me in his place. He said you particularly wanted
to go, hang him ! "

Lydia rose promptly and sent for her carriage.
" There is no hurry," she said. " We can easily drive
to St. James's Hall in twenty minutes."

" But we have to go to Islington, to the Agricultural
Hall. There will be cavalry charges, and all sorts of fun."

" Bless me ! " said Lydia. " Will there be any
boxing ? "

" Yes," said Lord Worthington, reddening, but un-
abashed. " Lots of it. It will be by gentlemen, though,
except perhaps one bout to show the old king our
professional form."

"Then excuse me whilst I go for my hat," said
Lydia, leaving the room. Alice had gone some time
before to make a complete change in her dress, as the
occasion was one for display of that kind.

" You look awfully fetching, Miss GofF," Lord Wor-
thington said as he followed them into the carriage.
Alice did not deign to reply, but tossed her head
superbly, and secretly considered whether people would,
on comparison, think her overdressed or Lydia under-
dressed. Lord Worthington thought they both looked
their best, and reflected for several seconds on the
different styles of different women, and how what
would suit one would not do at all for another. It
seemed to him that Miss Carew's presence made him
philosophical.

The Agricultural Hall struck Alice at first sight as
an immense tan-strewn barn round which heaps of old
packing cases had been built into racecourse stands,

1 88 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. X

scantily decorated with red cloth and a few flags. Lord
Worthington had secured front seats in one of these
balconies. Just below were the palisades, ornamented
at intervals with evergreens in tubs, and pressed against
from without by the shilling crowd. Alice remarked that
it was little to the credit of the management that these
people should be placed so close beneath her that she
could hear their conversation ; but as Lydia did not seem
to share her disgust, she turned her attention to the
fashionable part of the audience. On the opposite side
of the arena the balconies seemed like beds of flowers
in bloom : blacknesses formed here and there by the
hats and coats of gentlemen representing the inter-
spaces of clay. In the midst of the flowers was a
gaudy dais, on which a powerfully built black gentle-
man sat in a raised chair, his majestic impassivity con-
trasting with the overt astonishment with which a row
of attendant chiefs grinned and gaped on either side
of him.

" What a pity we are not nearer the king ! " said
Alice. " I can hardly see the dear old fellow."

"You will find these the best seats for seeing the
assault. It will be all right," said Lord Worthington.

Lydia's attention was caught by something guilty in
his manner. Following a furtive glance of his, she saw
in the arena, not far from her, an enclosure about twenty
feet square, made with ropes and stakes. It was un-
occupied ; and near it were a few chairs, a basin, and
a sponge.

"What is that? "she asked.

" That ! Oh, thats the ring."

"It is not a ring. It is a square."

" They call it the ring. They have succeeded in
squaring the circle."

A piercing bugle call rang out ; and a troop of cavalry

Chap, x Cashel Byron's Profession 189

trotted into the arena. Lydia found it pleasant enough
to sit lazily admiring the horses and men, and comparing
the members of the Olympian Club, who appeared when
the soldiers retired, to the marble gods of Athens, and
to the Bacchus or David of Michael Angelo. They
fell short of the Greek statues in tranquil refinement, and
of the Italian in heroic energy as they vaulted over
a wooden horse, and swung upon horizontal bars, each
cheapening the exploits of his forerunner by outdoing
them. Lord Worthington, who soon grew tired of
this, whispered that when all that rubbish was over, a
fellow would cut a sheep in two with a sword, after
which there would be some boxing.

" Do you mean to say," said Lydia indignantly, " that
they are going to turn a sheep loose and hunt it on horse-
back with swords ? "

Lord Worthington laughed and said yes ; but it
presently appeared that by a sheep was meant a lean
carcass of mutton. A stalwart sergeant cut it in half
as a climax to slicing lemons, bars of lead, and silk
handkerchiefs ; and the audience, accustomed to see
much more disgusting sights in butchers' shops, liberally
applauded him.

Two gentlemen of the Olympian Club now entered
the inclosure which Lord Worthington called the ring.
After shaking hands with one another as well as their
huge padded gloves permitted, they hugged themselves
with their right arms as if there were some danger of
their stomachs falling out if not held tightly in ; and
danced round one another, throwing out and retracting
their left fists like pawing horses. They were both, as
Lydia learned from the announcement of their names and
achievements by the master of the ceremonies, amateur
champions. She thought their pawing and dancing
ridiculous ; and when they occasionally rushed together

1 90 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.x

and scuffled, she could distinguish nothing of the leading
off, stopping, ducking, countering, guarding, and getting
away to which Lord Worthington enthusiastically invited
her attention, and which elicited alternate jeers and
applause from the shilling audience below. When, at
the expiration of three minutes, the two dropped supine
into chairs at opposite corners of the ring as if they had
sustained excessive fatigue, she would have laughed out-
right if they had not reminded her of Cashel trying to
recover himself in her library. At the end of a minute,
some one hoarsely cried " Time ! " and they rose and
repeated their previous performance for three minutes
more. Another minute of rest followed ; and then the
dancing and pawing proceeded for four minutes, after
which the champions again shook hands and left the
arena.

" And is that all ? " said Lydia.

"Thats all," said Lord Worthington. "It's the
most innocent thing in the world, and the prettiest."

" It does not strike me as being pretty," said Lydia ;
" but it seems as innocent as inanity can make it." Her
mind misgave her that she had ignorantly and unjustly
reproached Cashel Byron with ferocity merely because he
practised this harmless exercise.

The show progressed through several phases of skilled
violence. Besides single combats between men armed in
various fashions, there were tilts, tent-peggings, drilling
and singlestick practice by squads of British tars, who
were loudly cheered, and more boxing and vaulting by
members of the club. Lydia' s attention soon began to
wander from the arena. Looking down at the crowd
outside the palisades, she saw a small man whom she
vaguely remembered, though his face was turned from
her. In conversation with him was a powerful man
dressed in a yellow tweed suit and green scarf. He had

Chap, x Cashel Byron's Profession 1 9 1

a coarse strong voice, and his companion a shrill mean
one, so that their remarks could be heard by an attentive
listener above the confused noise of the crowd.

" Do you admire that man ? " said Lord Worthington
following Lydia's gaze.

" No. Is he anybody in particular ? "

" He was a great man once — in the days of the giants.
He was champion of England. He has a special interest
for us as the teacher of a mutual friend of ours."

" Please name him," said Lydia, intending that the
mutual friend should be named.

" Ned Skene," said Lord Worthington, taking her to
mean the man below. " He has done so well in the
colonies that he has indulged himself and his family with
a trip to England. His arrival made quite a sensation in
this country : last week he had a crowded benefit, at
which he sparred with our mutual friend and knocked
him about like a baby. Our mutual friend behaved very
well on the occasion in letting himself be knocked about.
You see he could have killed old Skene if he had tried in
earnest."

" Is that Skene ? " said Lydia, looking at him with
an earnest interest that astonished and delighted Lord
Worthington. " Ah ! Now I recognize the man with
him. He is one of my tenants at the Warren Lodge — I
believe I am indebted to you for the introduction."

" Mellish the trainer ? " said Lord Worthington, looking
a little foolish. " So it is. What a lovely bay that lancer
has ! — the second from the far end."

But Lydia would not look at the lancer's horse.
"Paradise!" she heard Skene exclaim just then with
scornful incredulity. "Aint it likely?" It occurred
to her that if he was alluding to his own chance of
arriving there, it was not likely.

"Less likely things have happened," said Mellish.

192 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. X

" I wont say that Cashel Byron is getting stale ; but I
will say that his luck is too good to last ; and I know for
a fact that he's gone quite melancholy of late."

« Melancholy be blowed ! " said Skene. " What should
he go melancholy for ? "

" Oh, I know," said Mellish reticently.

" You know a lot," retorted Skene with contempt.
" I spose you mean the young 'oman he's always talking
to my missus about."

" I mean a young woman he aint likely to get. One
of the biggest swells in England — a little un with a face
like the inside of a oyster shell, that he met down at
Wiltstoken, where I trained him to fight the Flying
Dutchman. He went right off his training after he met
her — wouldnt do anything I told him. I made so cock
sure he'd be licked that I hedged every penny I had laid
on him except twenty pound I got a flat to bet agen
him down at the fight after I changed my mind. Curse
that woman ! I lost a hundred pound by her."

" And serve you right too, you old stoopid. You was
wrong then ; and youre wrong now, with your blessed
Paradise ! "

" Paradise has never been beat yet."

"No more has my boy."

"Well, we'll see."

" We'll see ! I tell you Ive seed for myself. Ive seed
Billy Paradise spar ; and it aint boxing : it's ruffianing :
thats what it is. Ruffianing ! Why, my old missus
has more science."

"Mebbe she has," said Mellish. "But look at the
men he's licked that were chock full of science. Shep-
stone, clever as he is, only won a fight from him by
claiming a foul, because Billy lost his temper and spiked
him. Thats the worst of Billy : he cant keep his
feelings in. But no fine-lady sparrer can stand afore

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 193

that ugly rush of his. Do you think he'll care for
Cashel's showy long shots ? Not he : he'll just take
em on that mahogany nut of his, and give him back
one o them smashers that he knocked out Dick Weeks
with."

" I'll lay you any money he dont. If he does, I'll go
back into the ring myself, and bust his head off for it."
And Skene, very angry, heaped epithets on Paradise
until he became so excited that Mellish had to soothe
him by partially retracting his forebodings, and asking
how Cashel had been of late.

" He's not been taking care of himself as he oughter,"
said Skeae gloomily. "He's shewing the London
fashions to the missus and Fanny : theyre here in the
three-and-sixpenny seats, among the swells. Theatres
every night ; and walks every day to see the Queen
drive through the park, or the like. My Fan likes to
have him with her on account of his being such a
gentleman : she dont hardly think her own father not
good enough to walk down Piccadilly with. Wants me
to put on a black coat, and make a parson of myself.
The missus just idolizes him. She thinks the boy far
too good for the young 'oman you was speaking of, and
tells him that she's letting on not to care for him only to
raise her price, just as I used to pretend to be getting
beat, to set the flats betting agin me. The women
always made a pet of him. In Melbourne it wasnt what
/ liked for dinner : it was always what the boy 'ud like,
and when it 'ud please him to have it. I'm blest if I
usent to have to put him up to ask for a thing when I
wanted it myself. And you tell me that thats the lad
thats going to let Billy Paradise lick him, I spose.
Walker!"

Lydia, with Mrs. Byron's charm fresh upon her,
wondered what manner of woman this Mrs, Skene

194 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.X

could be who had supplanted her in the affections of
her son, and yet was no more than a prizefighter's old
missus. Evidently she was not one to turn a young
man from a career in the ring. The theme of CashePs
occupation and the chances of his quitting it ran away
with Lydia's attention. She sat with her eyes fixed on
the arena, without seeing the soldiers, swordsmen, or
athletes who were busy there. Her mind wandered
further and further from the place ; and the chattering
of the people resolved itself into a distant hum and was
forgotten.

Suddenly she became conscious of a dreadful looking
man coming towards her across the arena. His face had
the surface and colour of blue granite : his protruding
jaws and retreating forehead were like those of an ouran-
outang. She started from her reverie with a shiver, and,
recovering her hearing as well as her vision of external
things, heard a burst of applause from a few persons
below greeting this apparition. The man grinned
ferociously ; placed one hand on a stake of the ring ;
and vaulted over the ropes. Lydia remarked that,
excepting his hideous head and enormous hands and
feet, he was a well-made man, with loins and shoulders
that shone in the light, and gave him an air of great
strength and activity.

" Aint he a picture ? " she heard Mellish exclaim
ecstatically. " Theris condition for you ! "

" Ah ! " said Skene disparagingly. " But aint he the
gentleman ! Just look at him. It's like the Prince of
Wales walking down Pall Mall."

Lydia looked again, and saw Cashel Byron, exactly as
she had seen him for the first time in the elm vista at
Wiltstoken, approaching the ring, with the indifferent
air of a man going through some tedious public cere-
mony.

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 195

" A god coming down to compete with a gladiator,"
whispered Lord Worthington eagerly. " Isnt it, Miss
Carew ? Apollo and the satyr ! You must admit
that our mutual friend is a 'splendid looking fellow.
If he could go into society like that, by Jove, the
women "

" Hush," said Lydia, as if his words were intolerable.
Cashel did not vault over the ropes. He stepped
through them languidly, and, rejecting the proffered
assistance of a couple of officious friends, drew on a
boxing glove fastidiously, like an exquisite preparing for
a fashionable promenade. Having thus muffled his left
hand so as to make it useless for the same service to
his right, he dipped his fingers into the other glove,
gripped it between his teeth, and dragged it on with
the action of a tiger tearing its prey. Lydia shuddered
again.

" Bob Mellish," said Skene : " I'll lay you twenty to
one he stops that rush that you think so much of.
Come : twenty to one ! "

Mellish shook his head. Then the master of the
ceremonies, pointing to the men in succession, shouted,
" Paradise : a professor. Cashel Byron : a professor.
Time ! "

Cashel now looked at Paradise, of whose existence he
had not before seemed to be aware. The two men
advanced towards the centre of the ring ; shook hands
at arms length ; cast off each other's grasp suddenly ;
fell back a step ; and began to move warily round from
left to right like a pair of panthers.

" I think they might learn manners from the gentle-
men, and shake hands cordially," said Alice, trying to
appear unconcerned, but oppressed by a vague dread of
Cashel.

" Thats the traditional manner," said Lord Worthing-

196 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, x

ton. u It's done that way to prevent one from pulling
the other over, and hitting him with the disengaged
hand before he could get loose."

" What abominable treachery ! " exclaimed Lydia.

" It's never done, you know," said Lord Worthington
apologetically. " It wouldnt be any good, because you
cant use your left hand effectively that way."

Lydia turned away from him, and gave all her atten-
tion to the boxers. Of the two, Paradise shocked her
least. She saw that he was nervous and conscious of a
screwed-up condition as to his courage ; but his sly grin
implied a wild sort of good humor, and seemed to promise
the spectators that he would shew them some fun presently.
Cashel watched his movements with a relentless vigilance
and a sidelong glance in which, to Lydia's apprehension,
there was something infernal.

Suddenly the eyes of Paradise lit up : he lowered his
head ; made a rush ; baulked himself purposely ; and
darted at Cashel. There was a sound like the pop of a
champagne cork, after which Cashel was seen undis-
turbed in the middle of the ring, and Paradise, flung
against the ropes and trying to grin at his discomfiture,
shewed his white teeth through a mask of blood.

<c Beautiful ! " cried Skene with emotion. " Beautiful !
There aint but me and my boy in the world can give the
upper cut like that ! I wish I could see my old missus's
face now ! This is nuts to her."

" Let us go away," said Alice.

" That was a very different blow to any the gentlemen
gave," said Lydia, without heeding her, to Lord Worth-
ington. cc The man is bleeding horribly."

" It's only his nose," said Lord Worthington. " He's
used to it."

"Look at that!" chuckled Skene. "My boy's
followed him up to the ropes j and he means to keep him

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 1 97

there. Let him rush now if he can. See what it is to
have a good judgment ! "

Mellish shook his head again despondingly. The
remaining minutes of the round were unhappy ones for
Paradise. He struck viciously at his opponent's ribs ;
but Cashel stepped back just out his reach, and then
returned with extraordinary swiftness and dealt him
blows from which, with the ropes behind him, he had no
room to retreat, and which he was too slow to stop or
avoid. His attempts to reach his enemy's face were
greatly to the disadvantage of his own ; for Cashel's
blows were never so tremendous as when he turned his
head deftly out of harm's way, and met his advancing
foe with a counter hit. There was no chivalry and no
mercy in him ; but his grace could not have been
surpassed by his mother. He revelled in the hardness
of his hitting, and gathered fresh vigor as his gloves
resounded on Paradise's face or seemed to go almost
through his body. The better sort among the spectators
were disgusted by the sight ; for as Paradise bled
profusely, and as his blood smeared the gloves, and the
gloves smeared the heads and bodies of both combatants,
they were soon stained with it from their waists upward.
The managers held a whispered consultation as to
whether the sparring exhibition had not better be
stopped ; but they decided to let it proceed on seeing
the African king, who had watched the whole entertain-
ment up to the present without displaying the least
interest, now raise his hands and clap them with
delight.

" Billy dont look half pleased with hisself," observed
Mellish, as the two boxers sat down for the minute's
respite. " He looks just like he did when he spiked
Shepstone."

u What does spiking mean ? " said Lydia.

198 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, x

"Treading on a man's foot with spiked boots,"
replied Lord Worthington. " Dont be alarmed : they
have no spikes in their shoes to-day. And dont look at
me like that. Miss Carew. It's not my fault that they do
such things.

Time was called ; and the pugilists, who had by dint
of sponging been made somewhat cleaner, rose with
mechanical promptitude at the sound. They had hardly
advanced two steps, when Cashel, though his adversary
seemed far out of his reach, struck him on the forehead
with such force as to stagger him, and then jumped back
laughing. Paradise rushed forward ; but Cashel eluded
him, and fled round the ring, looking back derisively
over his shoulder. Paradise now dropped all pretence of
good humor. With reckless ferocity he dashed in ;
endured a startling blow without flinching ; and fought
savagely at close quarters. For a moment the falling of
their blows reminded Lydia of the rush of raindrops
against a pane in a sudden gust of wind. The next
moment Cashel was away j and Paradise, whose blood
was again flowing, was trying to repeat his manoeuvre, to
be met this time by a blow that brought him upon one
knee. He had scarcely risen when Cashel sprang at him
and drove him once more against the ropes with four
dazzlingly rapid blows ; but this time, with tigerish
coquetry, released him by again running away prettily in
the manner of a child at play. Paradise, with foam as
well as blood at his lips, uttered a howl, and tore off his
gloves. There was a shout of protest from the audience j
and Cashel, warned by it, tried to get off his gloves in
turn. But Paradise was upon him before he could
accomplish this ; and the two men laid hold of one
another amid a great clamor : Lord Worthington and
others rising and excitedly shouting, "Against rules ! No
wrestling ! " followed by a roar of indignation as Paradise

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 199

was seen to seize Cashel's shoulder in his teeth as they
struggled for the throw. Lydia, for the first time in her
life, screamed. Then she saw Cashel, his face fully as
fierce as his foe's, get his arm about Paradise's neck ; lift
him as a coal-heaver lifts a sack ; and fling him over his
back, heels over head, to the ground, where he instantly
dropped on him with his utmost weight and impetus.
The two were at once separated by a crowd of managers,
umpires, policemen and others who had rushed towards
the ring when Paradise had taken off his gloves. A dis-
tracting wrangle followed. Skene had climbed over the
palisade, and was hurling oaths, threats, and epithets at
Paradise, who, unable to stand without assistance, was
trying to lift his leaden eyelids and realize what had
happened to him. A dozen others, encouraging him to
sit up, remonstrating with him on his conduct, or trying
to pacify Skene, only added to the confusion. Cashel, on
the other side, raged at the managers, who were remind-
ing him that the rules of glove exhibitions did not allow
wrestling and throwing.

" Rules be damned ! " Lydia heard him shouting.

"He bit me; and I'll throw him to " Then

everybody spoke at once ; and she could only conjecture
where he would throw him to. He seemed to have no
self-control : Paradise, when he came to himself, behaved
better. Lord Worthington descended into the ring, and
tried to calm the hubbub ; but Cashel shook his hand
fiercely from his arm ; menaced a manager who attempted
to call him sternly to order ; frantically pounded his
wounded shoulder with his clenched fist ; and so outswore
and outwrangled them all that even Skene began to urge
that there had been enough fuss made. Then Lord
Worthington whispered a word more ; and Cashel
suddenly subsided, pale and ashamed, and sat down on a
chair in his corner as if to hide himself. Five minutes

aoo Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. X

afterwards, he stept out from the crowd with Paradise,
and shook hands with him amid much cheering. Cashel
was the humbler of the two. He did not raise his eyes
to the balcony once ; and he seemed in a hurry to retire.
But he was intercepted by an officer in uniform, accom-
panied by a black chief, who came to conduct him to the
dais and present him to the African King : an honor
he was not permitted to decline.

The king informed him, through an interpreter, that
he had been unspeakably gratified by what he had just
witnessed, and expressed great surprise that Cashel, not-
withstanding his prowess, was neither in the army nor in
parliament. He also offered to provide him with three
handsome wives if he would come out to Africa in his
suite. Cashel was much embarrassed ; but he came off
with credit, thanks to the interpreter, who was accustomed
to invent appropriate speeches for the king on public
occasions, and was kind enough to invent an equally
appropriate one for Cashel on this.

Meanwhile, Lord Worthington returned to his place.
" It's all settled now," he said to Lydia. " Byron shut
up when I told him his aristocratic friends were looking
at him ; and Paradise has been so bullied that he is cry-
ing in a corner downstairs. He has apologized ; but he
still maintains that he can beat our mutual friend without
the gloves ; and his backers apparently think so too ; for
it is understood that they are to fight in the autumn for
a thousand a side."

" To fight ! Then he has no intention of giving up
his profession ? "

" No ! " said Lord Worthington, astonished. " Why
on earth should he give it up ? Paradise's money is as
good as in his pocket. You have seen what he can do."

" I have seen enough. Alice : I am ready to go as
soon as you are."

Chap. X Cashel Byron's Profession 201

Miss Carew returned to Wiltstoken next day. Miss
Goff remained in London to finish the season in charge
of a friendly lady who, having married off all her own
daughters, was willing to set to work again to marry Alice
sooner than remain idle.

CHAPTER XI

ALICE was more at her ease during the remnant of the
season. Though she had been proud of her connexion
with Lydia, she had always felt eclipsed in her presence ;
and now that Lydia was gone, the pride remained and
the sense of inferiority was forgotten. Her freedom em-
boldened and improved her. She even began to consider
her own judgment a safer guide in the affairs of every-
day than the example of her patroness. Had she not
been right in declaring Cashel Byron an ignorant and
common man when Lydia, in spite of her warning, had
actually invited him to visit them ? And now all the
newspapers were confirming the opinion she had been
trying to impress on Lydia for months past. On the
evening of the assault-at-arms, the newsmen had shouted
through the streets, "Disgraceful scene between two
pugilists at Islington in the presence of the African
king." Next day the principal journals commented on
the recent attempt to revive the brutal pastime of prize-
fighting ; accused the authorities of conniving at it ; and
called on them to put it down at once with a strong hand.
" Unless," said a Nonconformist organ, " this plague spot
be rooted out from our midst, it will no longer be possible
for our missionaries to pretend that England is the fount
of the Gospel of Peace." Alice collected these papers,
and forwarded them to Wiltstoken.

Chap. XI Cashel Byron's Profession 203

On this subject one person at least shared her bias.
Whenever she met Lucian Webber, they talked about
Cashel, invariably coming to the conclusion that though
the oddity of his behavior had gratified Lydia's un-
fortunate taste for eccentricity, she had never regarded
him with serious interest, and would not now, under any
circumstances, renew her intercourse with him. Lucian
found little solace in these conversations, and generally
suffered from a vague sense of meanness after them. Yet
next time they met he would drift into discussing Cashel
over again ; and he always rewarded Alice for the
admirable propriety of her views by dancing at least three
times with her when dancing was the business of the
evening. The dancing was still less congenial than the
conversation. Lucian danced stiffly and unskilfully.
Alice, whose muscular power and energy were superior to
anything of the kind that Mr. Mellish could artificially
produce, longed for swift motion and violent exercise.
Waltzing with Lucian was like carrying a stick round
the room in the awkward fashion in which Punch carries
his baton. In spite of her impression that he was a man
of unusually correct morals and high political importance,
greatly to be considered in private life because he was
Miss Carew's cousin, it was hard to spend quarter-hours
with him that were asked for by some of the best dancers
in her set.

She began to tire of the subject of Cashel and Lydia.
She began to tire of Lucian's rigidity. She began to
tire exceedingly of the vigilance she had to maintain
constantly over her own manners and principles. Some-
how, this vigilance defeated itself; for she one evening
overheard a lady of rank (who meant her to overhear)
speak of her as a stuck-up country girl. For a week
afterwards she did not utter a word or make a movement
in society without first considering whether it could by

204 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XI

any malicious observer be considered rustic or stuck-up.
But the more she strove to attain perfect propriety of
demeanor, the more odious did she seem to herself,
and, she inferred, to others. She longed for Lydia's
secret of always doing the right thing at the right
moment, even when defying precedent. Sometimes she
blamed the dulness of the people she met. It was
impossible not to be stiff with them. When she chatted
with an entertaining man, who made her laugh and
forget herself for a while, she was conscious afterwards
of having been at her best with him. But she saw that
those whose manners she most coveted were pleasantly
at their ease even in stupid society. She began to fear
at last that she was naturally disqualified by her com-
paratively humble birth from acquiring the well bred air
she envied.

One day she conceived a doubt whether Lucian was
so safe an authority and example in matters of personal
deportment as she had hitherto believed. He could not
dance : his conversation was priggish : it was impossible
to feel at ease when speaking to him. Was it courageous
to stand in awe of his opinion ? Was it courageous to
stand in awe of anybody ? Alice closed her lips proudly
and began to feel defiant. Then a reminiscence, which
had never before failed to rouse indignation in her, made
her laugh. She recalled the scandalous spectacle of the
stiff, upright Lucian doubled up in Mrs. Hoskyn's gilded
armchair to illustrate the prizefighter's theory of effort
defeating itself. After all, what was that caressing touch
of Cashel's hand in comparison with the tremendous
rataplan he had beaten on the ribs of Paradise ? Could
it be true that effort defeated itself — in personal behavior,
for instance ? A ray of the truth that underlay Cashel's
grotesque experiment was flickering in her mind as she
asked herself that question. She thought a good deal

Chap. XI Cashel Byron's Profession 205

about it ; and one afternoon, when she looked in at four
at-homes in succession, she studied the behavior of the
other guests from a new point of view, comparing the
most mannered with the best mannered, and her recent
self with both. The result half convinced her that she
had been occupied during her first London season in dis-
playing, at great pains, a very unripe self-consciousness —
or, as her conscience phrased it, in making an insufferable
fool of herself.

Then came an invitation or two from the further
west — South Kensington and Bayswater ; and here she
struck the deeper social stratum of the great commercial
middle class, with its doctors, lawyers and clergy. She
found it all a huge caricature of herself — a society
ashamed of itself, afraid to be itself, suspecting other
people of being itself and pretending to despise them for
it, and so stifling and starving itself that individuals
with courage enough to play the piano on Sunday were
automatically extruded by the pressure and shot on to a
Bohemian debateable land where they amused themselves
by trifling with the fine arts. Alice recognized her own
class, but did not on that account spare it the ridicule
which, from her point of view as one of Miss Carew's
superior set, was due to its insipid funereal dancing,
its flagrantly studied manners, its ostentation, its voice
and accent warped by the strain of incessant pretending,
its habitual insolence to servants, its idolatrous deference
to rank, its Sabbatarianism, and a dozen other manifesta-
tions of what Alice, not feeling in any way concerned to
find the root of the matter, summed up as its vulgarity.

Shortly afterwards, she met Lucian at a dance. He
came late, as usual, and gravely asked whether he might
have the pleasure of dancing with her. This form of
address he never varied. To his surprise, she made
some difficulty about granting the favor, and eventually

206 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XI

offered him " the second extra." He bowed. Just then
a young man came up, and, remarking that he thought
this was his turn, bore Alice away. Lucian smiled
indulgently, thinking that though Alice's manners were
wonderfully good, considering her antecedents, yet she
occasionally betrayed a lower tone than that which he
sought to exemplify in his own person.

When his own turn came, and they had gone round
the room twice to the strains of the second extra, they
stopped — Alice was always willing to rest during a waltz
with Lucian ; and he asked her whether she had heard
from Lydia.

"You always ask me that," she replied. "Lydia
never writes except when she has something particular
to say, and then only a few lines."

" Precisely. But she might have had something
particular to say since we last met."

" She hasnt had," said Alice, provoked by an almost
arch smile from him.

" She will be glad to hear that I have at last succeeded
in recovering possession of the Warren Lodge from its
undesirable tenants."

"I thought they went long ago," said Alice indif-
ferently.

" The men have not been there for a month or more.
The difficulty was to get them to remove their property.
However, we are rid of them now. The only relic of
their occupation is a bible, with half the leaves torn out,
and the rest scrawled with records of bets, receipts for
sudorific and other medicines, and a mass of unintel-
ligible memoranda. One inscription, in faded ink, runs
c To Robert Mellish, from his affectionate mother, with
her sincere hope that he may ever walk in the ways of
this book.' I am afraid that hope was not fulfilled."

" How wicked of him to tear a bible ! " said Alice

Chap. XI Cashel Byron's Profession 207

seriously. Then she laughed, and added, "I know I
shouldnt ; but I cant help it."

" The incident strikes me rather as being pathetic,"
said Lucian, who liked to shew that he was not deficient
in sensibility. <c One can picture the innocent faith of
the poor woman in her boy's future. If she could only
have foreseen ! "

" Inscriptions in books are like inscriptions on tomb-
stones," said Alice disparagingly. "They dont mean
much."

cc I am glad that these men have no further excuse for
going to Wiltstoken. It was certainly most unfortunate
that Lydia should have made the acquaintance of one of
them."

" So you have said at least fifty times," replied Alice
deliberately. " I believe you are jealous of that poor
boxer."

Lucian became quite red. Alice trembled at her own
audacity, but kept a bold front.

" Really — it's too absurd," he said, betraying his con-
fusion by assuming a carelessness quite foreign to his
normal manner. " In what way could I possibly be
jealous, Miss Goff?"

" That is best known to yourself."

Lucian now saw that there was a change in Alice, and
that he had lost ground with her. His wounded vanity,
like a corrosive acid, suddenly obliterated his impression
that she was, in the main, a well conducted and meritorious
young woman. But in its place came another impression
that she was a spoiled beauty. And, as he was by no
means fondest of the women whose behavior accorded
best with his notions of propriety, the change was not
in all respects a change for the worse. Only he could
not forgive her last remark, though he tried not to let
her see how it stung him,

ao8 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XI

"I am afraid I should cut a poor figure in an
encounter with my rival," he said, smiling.

" Call him out and shoot him," said Alice vivaciously.
" Very likely he does not know how to use a pistol."

He smiled again ; but had Alice known how seriously
he entertained her suggestion for some moments before
dismissing it as impracticable, she might not have offered
it. Putting a bullet into Cashel struck him rather as a
luxury which he could not afford than as a crime. And
now Alice, quite satisfied that this Mr. Webber, on
whom she had wasted so much undeserved awe, might
be treated as inconsiderately as she used to treat her
admirers at Wiltstoken, proceeded to amuse herself by
torturing him a little.

" It is odd," she said, in her best imitation of Lydia's
reflective manner, " that a common man like that should
be able to make himself so very attractive to Lydia. It
was not because he was such a fine man ; for she does
not care in the least about that. I dont think she would
give a second look at the handsomest man in London,
she is so purely intellectual. And yet she used to delight
in talking to him."

" Oh, that is a mistake. Lydia has a certain manner
which leads people to believe that she is deeply interested
in the person she happens to be speaking to ; but it is
only manner. It means nothing."

" I know that manner of hers perfectly well. But this
was something quite different."

Lucian shook his head reproachfully. " I cannot jest
on so serious a matter," he said, resolving on an attempt
to re-establish his dignity with Alice. " I think, Miss
Goff, that you perhaps hardly know how absurd your
supposition is. There are not many men of distinction
in Europe with whom my cousin is not personally
acquainted, A very young girl, who had seen little of

Chap. XI Cashel Byron's Profession 209

the world, might possibly be deceived by the exterior
of such a man as Byron. A woman accustomed to
society could make no such mistake. No doubt the
man's vulgarity and uncouth address amused her for a
moment ; but "

"But why did she ask him to come to her Friday
afternoons ? "

" A mere civility which she extended to him because
he assisted her in some difficulty she got into in the street."

" She might as well have asked a policeman to come
to see her. I dont believe that was it."

Lucian at that moment hated Alice. "I am sorry
you think such a thing possible," he said. "Shall we
resume our waltz ? "

Alice was not yet able to bear an implication that she
did not understand society sufficiently to appreciate the
distance between Lydia and Cashel.

" Of course I know it is impossible," she said, in her
old manner. " I did not mean it."

Lucian, failing to gather from this what she did mean,
took refuge in waltzing, in the course of which she
advised him to take a dozen lessons from an instructress
whom she recommended as specially skilful at getting
gentlemen into what she called the smart way of dancing.
This sally produced such a chill that at last, fearing lest
her new lights had led her too far, she changed her tone
and expressed her amazement at the extent and variety
of the work he performed in Downing Street. He
accepted her compliments with perfect seriousness,
leaving her satisfied that they had smoothed him down.
But she was mistaken. She knew nothing of politics or
official work ; and he saw the worthlessness of her pre-
tended admiration of his share in them, although he felt
it right that she should revere his powers from the
depths of her ignorance. What stuck like a burr in his

P

2io Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XI

mind was that she thought him small enough to be
jealous of the poor boxer, and found his dancing deficient
in smartness.

After that dance Alice thought much about Lucian,
and also about the way in which society regulated
marriages. Before Miss Carew sent for her, she had
often sighed because all the nice men she knew of
moved in circles to which an obscure governess had no
chance of admission. She had met them occasionally
at subscription balls ; but for sustained intimacy and
proposals of marriage she had been dependent on the
native youth of Wiltstoken, whom she looked upon as
louts or prigs, and among whom Wallace Parker had
shone pre-eminent as a university man, scholar, and
gentleman. Now that she was a privileged beauty in
a set which would hardly tolerate Wallace Parker, she
found that the nice men were younger sons, poor and
extravagant, far superior to Lucian Webber as partners
for a waltz, but not to be thought of as partners in
home-keeping. Alice had experienced the troubles of
poverty, and had met with excellence in men only in
poems, which she never seriously connected with the
possibilities of actual life. She was quite unconscious
of the privation caused by living with meanly-minded
people : she was acutely conscious of that caused by want
of money. Not that she was indifferent to rectitude as
she understood it : nothing could have induced her to
marry a man, however rich, whom she thought wicked.
She wanted money, good character and social position ;
but she naturally desired youth and good looks as well ;
and here it was that she found herself unsuited. For not
only were all the handsome, gallant, well-bred men
getting deeply into debt by living beyond smaller incomes
than that with which Wallace Parker had tempted her,
but many of those who had inherited both riches and

Chap. XI Cashel Byron's Profession 211

rank were as inferior to him in appearance and address
as they were in scholarship. No man satisfying all her
requirements had yet shewn the least disposition to fall
in love with her.

One bright forenoon in July, Alice, attended by a
groom, went to the Park on horseback. The freshness
of morning was upon horses and riders : there were not
yet any jaded people lolling supine in carriages, nor
discontented spectators sitting in chairs to envy them.
Alice, who was a better horsewoman than might have
been expected from the little practice she had had, looked
well in the saddle. She had just indulged in a brisk
canter from the Corner to the Serpentine when she saw
a large white horse approaching with Wallace Parker on
its back.

u Ah ! " he exclaimed, expertly wheeling his steed and
taking off his hat at the same time with an intentional
display of gallantry and horsemanship. " How are you,
Alice ? "

" Goodness ! " she cried, forgetting her manners in
her astonishment. " What brings you here ; and where
on earth did you get that horse ? "

u I presume, Alice," said Parker, satisfied with the
impression he had made, "that I am here for much the
same reason as you are — to enjoy the morning in proper
style. As for Rozinante, I borrowed him. Is that
chestnut yours ? Excuse the rudeness of the question."

" No," said Alice, coloring a little. " This seems
such an unlikely place to meet you."

" Oh no. I always take a turn in the season. But
certainly it would have been a very unlikely place for us
to meet a year ago."

So far, Alice felt, she was getting the worst of the
conversation. She changed the subject. " Have you
been to Wiltstoken since I last saw you ? "

212 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XI

" Yes. I go there once every week at least."

" Every week ! Janet never told me."

Parker implied by a cunning air that he thought he
knew the reason of that ; but he said nothing. Alice,
piqued, would not condescend to make inquiries. So
he said,

" How is Miss Thingumbob ? "

" I do not know any one of that name."

" You know very well whom I mean. Your aristo-
cratic patron, Miss Carew."

Alice flushed. " You are very impertinent, Wallace,"
she said, grasping her riding whip. " How dare you
call Miss Carew my patron ? "

Wallace suddenly became solemn. " I did not know
that you objected to be reminded of all you owe her,"
he said. "Janet never speaks ungratefully of her,
though she has done nothing for Janet."

" I have not spoken ungratefully," protested Alice,
almost in tears. "I feel sure you are never tired of
speaking ill of me to them at home."

"That shews how little you understand my real
character. I always make excuses for you."

" Excuses for what ? What have I done ? What do
you mean ? "

" Oh, I dont mean anything, if you dont. I thought
from your beginning to defend yourself that you felt
yourself to be in the wrong."

" I did not defend myself. Dont dare to say such a
thing again, Wallace."

"Always your obedient humble servant," he replied
with complacent irony.

She pretended not to hear him, and whipped up her
horse to a smart trot. The white steed being no trotter,
Parker followed at a lumbering canter. Alice, in a
shamefaced fear that he was making her ridiculous, soon

Chap. XI Cashel Byron's Profession 2 1 3

checked her speed ; and the white horse subsided to a
walk, marking its paces by deliberate bobs of its
unfashionably long mane and tail.

" I have something to tell you," said Parker at last.

Alice did not deign to reply.

" I think it better to let you know at once," he con-
tinued. " The fact is, I intend to marry Janet."

"Janet wont," said Alice promptly.

Parker smiled conceitedly, and said, " I dont think
she will raise any difficulty if you give her to understand
that it is all over between MS."

" That what is all over ? "

"Well, if you prefer it, that there never has been
anything between us. Janet believes that we were en-
gaged. So did a good many other people until you went
into high life."

" I cannot help what people thought."

"And they all know that I, at least, was ready to
perform my part of the engagement honorably."

" Wallace," she said, with a sudden change of tone :
" I think we had better separate. It is not right for me
to be riding about the park with you when I have
nobody belonging to me here except a manservant."

"Just as you please," he said coolly, halting. "May
I assure Janet that you wish her to marry me ? "

" Most certainly not. I do not wish any one to marry
you, much less my own sister. I am far inferior to Janet ;
and she deserves a much better husband than I do."

" I quite agree with you, though I dont quite see what
that has to do with it. As far as I understand you, you
will neither marry me yourself — mind, I am quite willing
to fulfil my engagement still — nor let any one else have
me. Is that so ? "

" You may tell Janet," said Alice vigorously, her face
glowing, "that if we — you and I — were condemned to

214 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XI

live for ever on a desert isl No : I will write to

her. That will be the best way. Good morning."

Parker, hitherto unperturbed, shewed signs of alarm.
" I beg, Alice," he said, " that you will say nothing
unfair to her of me. You cannot with truth say anything
bad of me."

" Do you really care for Janet ? " said Alice, wavering.

" Of course," he replied indignantly. "Janet is a very
superior girl."

"I have always said so," said Alice, rather angry
because some one else had forestalled her in that
meritorious admission. " I will tell her the simple
truth — that there has never been anything between us
except what is between all cousins ; and that there never
could have been anything more on my part. I must go
now. I dont know what that man must think already."

" I should be sorry to lower you in his esteem," said
Parker maliciously. " Good-bye, Alice." Uttering the
last words in a careless tone, he again flourished his hat
as he pulled up the white horse's head and sped away.
It was not true that he was in the habit of riding in
the park every season. He had learnt from Janet that
Alice was accustomed to ride there in the forenoon ;
and he had hired the white horse in order to meet her
on equal terms, feeling that a gentleman on horseback
in the road by the Serpentine could be at no social dis-
advantage with any lady, however exalted her associates.

As for Alice, his reminder that Miss Carew was her
patron rankled in her. The necessity for securing an
independent position seemed to press imminently upon her.
And as the sole way of achieving this was by marriage,
she almost made up her mind to marry any man, what-
ever his person, age, or disposition, if only he could give
her a place equal to that of Miss Carew in the little world
of which she had lately acquired the manners and customs.

CHAPTER XII

WHEN the autumn set in, Alice was in Scotland, learning
to shoot ; and Lydia was at Wiltstoken, preparing her
father's letters and memoirs for publication. She did not
write at the castle. All the rooms there were either
domed, vaulted, gilded, galleried, three sided, six sided,
anything except four sided: all in some way suggestive of
the Arabian nights' entertainments and out of keeping
with the associations of her father's life. In her search
for a congruous room to work in, the idea of causing a
pavilion to be erected in the elm vista recurred to her. But
she had no mind to be disturbed just then by workmen ;
so she had the Warren Lodge cleansed and limewashed,
and the kitchen transformed into a comfortable library,
whence, as she sat facing the door at her writing table in
the centre of the room, she could see the elm vista
through one window, and through another a tract of
wood and meadow intersected by the high-road and by a
canal, beyond which the prospect ended in a distant green
slope used as a sheep run. The other apartments were
used by a couple of maidservants, who kept the place
swept and dusted, and prepared Miss Carew's lunch,
besides answering her bell and going on her errands to
the castle. Failing any of these employments, they sat
outside in the sun, reading novels.

When Lydia had worked in this retreat daily for two

216 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XII

months, her mind became so full of the old life with
her father, that the interruptions of the servants became
so many shocks recalling her to the present. On the
twelfth of August, Phoebe, one of the maids, entered and
said,

" If you please, Miss, Bashful is wishville to know can
he speak to you a moment ? "

Permission given, the footman entered. Since his
wrestle with Cashel he had never quite recovered his
former imperturbability. His manner and speech were
as smooth and respectful as before ; but his countenance
was no longer stedfast : he was on bad terms with the
butler because he had been reproved by him for blushing.
On this occasion he came to beg leave to absent himself
during the afternoon. He seldom asked favors of this
kind, and was never refused.

"There are more people than usual in the road
to-day," she observed, as he thanked her. " Do you
know why ? "

" No, madam," said Bashville, and blushed.

cc People begin to shoot on the twelfth," she said ;
" but I suppose it cannot have anything to do with that.
Is there a race, or a fair, or any such thing in the
neighborhood ? "

" Not that I am aware of, madam."

Lydia dipped her pen in the ink and thought no more
of the matter. Bashville returned to the castle, and
attired himself like a country gentleman of sporting tastes
before going out to enjoy his holiday.

The forenoon passed away quietly. There was no
sound in the Warren Lodge except the scratching of
Lydia's pen, the ticking of her favorite skeleton clock,
an occasional clatter of crockery from the kitchen, and
the voices of the birds and maids without. As the hour
for lunch approached, Lydia became a little restless.

Chap. XII Cashel Byron's Profession 217

She interrupted her work to look at the clock, and
brushed a speck of dust from her blotter with the feather of
her quill. Then she looked absently through the window
along the elm vista, where she had once seen, as she had
thought, a sylvan god. This time she saw a less romantic
object : a policeman. She looked again incredulously :
there he was still, a black-bearded helmeted man, making
a dark blot in the green perspective, and surveying the
landscape cautiously. Lydia summoned Phoebe, and bade
her ask the man what he wanted.

The girl soon returned out of breath, with the news
that there were a dozen more constables hiding among the
elms, and that the one she had spoken to had given no
account of himself, but had asked her how many gates
there were to the park ; whether they were always locked ;
and whether she had seen many people about. She felt
sure that a murder had been committed somewhere.
Lydia shrugged her shoulders, and ordered luncheon,
during which Phoebe gazed eagerly through the window,
and left her mistress to wait on herself.

" Phoebe," said Lydia, when the dishes were removed :
" you may go to the gate lodge, and ask them there what
the policemen want. But do not go any further. Stay.
Has Ellen gone to the castle with the things ? "

Phoebe reluctantly admitted that Ellen had.

" Well, you need not wait for her to return ; but come
back as quickly as you can, in case I should want
anybody."

" Directly, miss," said Phoebe, vanishing.

Lydia, left alone, resumed her work leisurely, occa-
sionally pausing to gaze at the distant woodland, and
note with transient curiosity a flock of sheep on the
slope, or a flight of birds above the tree tops. Something
more startling occurred presently. A man, apparently
half naked, and carrying a black object under his arm,

2i8 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XII

darted through a remote glade with the swiftness of a
stag, and disappeared. Lydia concluded that he had
been disturbed whilst bathing in the canal, and had taken
to flight with his wardrobe under his arm. She laughed
at the idea ; turned to her manuscript again ; and wrote
on. Suddenly there was a rustle and a swift footstep
without. Then the latch was violently jerked up ; and
Cashel Byron rushed in as far as the threshold, where he
halted, stupefied at the presence of Lydia and the change
in the appearance of the room.

He was himself remarkably changed. He was dressed
in a pea-jacket, which evidently did not belong to him ;
for it hardly reached his middle, and the sleeves were so
short that his forearms were half bare, shewing that he
wore nothing beneath this borrowed garment. He had
on white knee-breeches, soiled with clay and green stains
of bruised grass. The breeches were made with a broad
flap in front, under which, and passing round his waist,
was a scarf of crimson silk. From his knees to his
socks, the edges of which had fallen over his laced boots,
his legs were visible, naked and muscular. On his face
was a mask of sweat, dust, and blood, partly sponged
away in black-bordered streaks. Underneath his left eye
was a mound of blueish flesh nearly as large as a walnut.
The jaw below it, and the opposite cheek, were severely
bruised ; and his lip was cut through at one corner. He
had no hat ; his close-cropped hair was disordered ; and
his ears were as though they had been rubbed with coarse
sand-paper.

Lydia looked at him for some seconds, and he at her,
speechless. Then she tried to speak ; failed ; and sank
into the chair.

" I didnt know there was any one here," he said, in a
hoarse, panting whisper. "The police are after me. I
have fought for an hour, and run over a mile ; and

Chap. XII Cashel Byron's Profession 219

I'm dead beat : I can go no further. Let me hide in
the back room ; and tell them you havent seen any one,
will you ? "

" What have you done ? " she said, conquering her
weakness with an effort, and standing up.

"Nothing," he replied, groaning occasionally as he
recovered breath. " Business : thats all."

" Why are the police pursuing you ? Why are you in
such a dreadful condition ? "

Cashel seemed alarmed at this. There was a mirror
in the lid of a paper-case on the table. He took it up,
and looked at himself anxiously, but was at once relieved
by what he saw. "I'm all right," he said. "I'm not
marked. That mouse" — he pointed gaily to the lump
under his eye — " will run away to-morrow. I am pretty
tidy, considering. But it's bellows to mend with me at
present. Whoosh ! My heart's as big as a bullock's,
after that run."

" You ask me to shelter you," said Lydia sternly.
" What have you done ? Have you committed murder ? "

" No ! " exclaimed Cashel, trying to open his eyes
widely in his astonishment, but only succeeding with
one, as the other was gradually closing. "I tell you
Ive been fighting ; and it's illegal. You dont want to
see me in prison, do you ? Confound him ! " he added,
reverting to her question with sudden wrath : " a steam-
hammer wouldnt kill him. You might as well hit a sack
of nails. And all my money, my time, my training, and
my day's trouble gone for nothing ! It's enough to make
a man cry."

" Go," said Lydia, with uncontrollable disgust. " And
do not let me see which way you go. How dare you
come to me ? "

The sponge marks on Cashel's face grew whiter; and
he began to pant heavily again. " Very well," he said.

220 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XII

" I'll go. There isnt a boy in your stables would give
me up like that."

As he spoke, he opened the door ; but he involuntarily
shut it again immediately. Lydia looked through the
window, and saw a crowd of men, police and others,
hurrying along the elm vista. Cashel cast a glance
round, half piteous, half desperate, like a hunted animal.
Lydia could not resist it. " Quick ! " she cried, opening
one of the inner doors. " Go in there, and keep quiet —
if you can." And, as he sulkily hesitated a moment, she
stamped vehemently. He slunk in ; and she, having
shut the door, resumed her place at the writing table :
her heart beating with a kind of excitement she had not
felt since, in her early childhood, she had kept guilty
secrets from her nurse.

There was a tramping without, and a sound of voices.
Then two peremptory raps at the door.

" Come in," said Lydia, more composedly than she
knew. But the asked permission was not waited for.
Before she ceased speaking, a policeman opened the door,
and looked quickly round the room. He was taken
aback by what he saw, and finally touched his helmet
to signify respect for Lydia. As he opened his mouth to
speak, Phoebe, flushed with running, pushed past him ; put
her hand on the door ; and pertly asked what he wanted.

"Come away from the door, Phoebe," said Lydia.
" Wait here with me until I give you leave to go," she
added, as the girl moved towards the inner door.
" Now," she said, turning courteously to the policeman,
" what is the matter ? "

" I ask your pardon, mum," said the constable
agreeably. " Did you happen to see any one pass here-
abouts lately ? "

" Do you mean a man only partly dressed, and carry-
ing a black coat ? " said Lydia.

Chap. XII Cashel Byron's Profession 221

"Thats him, miss," said the policeman, greatly
interested. " Which way did he go ? "

"I will shew you where I saw him," said Lydia,
rising and going to the door, outside which she found a
crowd of rustics around five policemen, who held in custody
two men, one of whom was Mellish (without a coat),
and the other a hook-nosed man whose like Lydia had
seen often on racecourses. She pointed out the glade
across which she had seen Cashel run, and felt as if the
guilt of the deception was wrenching some fibre in her
heart from its natural order. But she spoke with
apparent self-possession ; and no shade of suspicion fell
on the minds of the police.

Several peasants now came forward, each professing
to know exactly whither Cashel had been making when
he crossed the glade. Whilst they were arguing, many
persons, resembling the hooknosed captive in general
appearance, sneaked into the crowd and regarded the
police with furtive hostility. Soon after, a second
detachment of police came up, with another prisoner
and another crowd : Bashville among them.

" Better go in, mum," said the policeman who had
spoken to Lydia first. " We must keep together, being
so few ; and he aint fit for you to look at."

But Lydia had looked already, and had guessed that
the last prisoner was Paradise, although his countenance
was damaged beyond recognition. His costume was
like that of Cashel, except that his girdle was a blue
handkerchief with white spots, and his shoulders were
wrapped in an old horsecloth, through the folds of which
his naked ribs could be seen, tinged with every hue a
bad bruise can assume. As to his face, a crease and a
hole amid a cluster of lumps of raw flesh indicated the
presence of an eye and a mouth : the rest of his features
were indiscernible. He could still see a little ; for he

222 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XII

moved his puffed and lacerated hand to arrange his
blanket, and demanded hoarsely, and with greatly im-
peded articulation, whether the lady would stand a drain
to a poor fighting man what had done his best for his
backers. On this some one produced a flask ; and
Mellish volunteered, provided he were released for a
moment, to get the contents down Paradise's throat.
As soon as the brandy had passed his swollen lips, he
made a few preliminary sounds, and then shouted,

" He sent for the coppers because he couldnt stand
another round. I am ready to go on."

The policemen bade him hold his tongue, and closed
round him, hiding him from Lydia, who, without shew-
ing the mingled pity and loathing with which his condi-
tion inspired her, told them to bring him to the castle,
and have him attended to there. She added that the
whole party could obtain refreshment at the same time.
The sergeant, who was very tired and thirsty, wavered
in his resolution to continue the pursuit. Lydia, as
usual, treated the matter as settled.

" Bashville," she said : " will you please shew them
the way, and see that they are satisfied."

" Some thief has stole my coat," said Mellish sullenly
to Bashville. "If youll lend me one, governor, and
these blessed policemen will be so kind as not to tear it
off my back, I'll send it down to you in a day or two.
I'm a respectable man, and have been her ladyship's
tenant here."

" Your pal wants it worse than you," said the sergeant.
" If there was an old coachman's cape or anything to
put over him, I would see it returned safe. I dont want
to bring him round the country in a blanket, like a wild
Injin."

" I have a cloak inside," said Bashville. <c I'll get it
for you." And before Lydia could devize a pretext for

Chap. XII Cashel Byron's Profession 223

stopping him, he disappeared, and she heard him entering
the lodge by the back door. It seemed to her that a
silence fell on them all, as if her deceit was already
discovered. Mellish, who had been waiting for an
opportunity to protest against the last remark of the
policeman, said angrily,

" Who are you calling my pal ? I hope I may be
struck dead for a liar if ever I set eyes on him in my
life before."

Lydia looked at him as a martyr might look at a
wretch to whom she was to be chained. He was doing
as she had done — lying. Then Bashville, having passed
through the other rooms, came into the library by the
inner door, with an old livery cloak on his arm.

" Put that on him," he said ; "and come along to the
castle with me. You can see the roads for five miles
round from the south tower, and recognize every man on
them through the big telescope. By your leave, madam,
I think Phoebe had better come with us to help."

" Certainly," said Lydia, looking quietly at him.

"I'll get clothes at the castle for the man that wants
them," he added, trying to return her gaze, but failing
with a blush. " Now boys. Come along."

" I thank your ladyship," said the sergeant. " We
have had a hard morning of it ; and we can do no more
at present than drink your health." He touched his
helmet again ; and Lydia bowed to him. " Keep close
together, men," he said, as the crowd moved off with
Bashville.

" Ah," sneered Mellish : " keep close together, like
the geese do. Things has come to a pretty pass when a
Englishman is run in for stopping when he sees a crowd."

" All right," said the sergeant. " I have that bundle
of colored handkerchiefs you were selling ; and I'll find
the other man before youre a day older. It's a pity,

224 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XII

seeing how youve behaved so well and havent resisted
us, that you dont happen to know where those ropes and
stakes are hid. I might have a good word at the sessions
for any one that would put me in the way of finding
them."

" Ropes and stakes ! Fiddlesticks and grandmothers !
There werent no ropes and no stakes. It was only a
turn-up : that is, if there was any fighting at all. /
didnt see none ; but I spose you did. But then youre
clever ; and Fm not."

By this time the last straggler of the party had dis-
appeared from Lydia, who had watched their retreat from
the door of the Warren Lodge. When she turned to go
in she saw Cashel cautiously entering from the room in
which he had lain concealed. His excitement had passed
off: he looked cold and anxious, as if a reaction were
setting in.

" Are they all gone ? " he said. " That servant of
yours is a good sort. He has promised to bring me
some clothes. As for you, youre better than—
Whats the matter ? Where are you going to ? "

Lydia had put on her hat, and was swiftly wrapping
herself in a shawl. Wreaths of rosy colour were chasing
each other through her cheeks ; and her eyes and nostrils,
usually so tranquil, were dilated.

" Wont you speak to me ? " he said irresolutely.

"Just this," she replied, with passion. "Let me
never see you again. The very foundations of my life
are loosened : I have told a lie. I have made my
servant — an honorable man — my accomplice in a lie.
We are worse than you ; for even your wild -beast's
handiwork is a less evil than the bringing of a falsehood
into the world. This is what has come to me out of our
acquaintance. I have given you a hiding-place. Keep
it. I will never enter it again."

Chap. XII Cashel Byron's Profession 225

Cashel, appalled, shrank back like a child which,
trying to steal sweetmeats from a high shelf, pulls the
whole cupboard down about its ears. He neither spoke
nor stirred as she left the Lodge.

At the castle she went to her boudoir, where she found
her maid the French lady, from whose indignant descrip-
tion of the proceedings below she gathered that the
policemen were being regaled with bread and cheese, beef
and beer ; and that the attendance of a surgeon had been
dispensed with, Paradise's wounds having been dressed
skilfully by Mellish. Lydia bade her send Bashville to
the Warren Lodge to see whether any strangers were
still loitering about it ; and ordered that none of the
female servants should return there until he came back.
Then she sat down, and tried not to think. But as she
could not help thinking, she submitted, and tried to
think the late catastrophe out. An idea that she had
disjointed the whole framework of things by creating a
false belief, filled her imagination. The one conviction
she had brought out of her reading was that the conceal-
ment of a truth, with its resultant false beliefs, must
produce mischief, even though the beginning of that
mischief might be as inconceivable as the end. She
made no distinction between the subtlest philosophical
sophism and the vulgarest lie. The evil of Cashel's
capture was measurable, the evil of any lie beyond all
measure. She felt none the less assured of that evil
because she could not foresee one bad consequence likely
to ensue from what she had done. Her misgivings
pressed heavily upon her ; for her father, a determined
sceptic, had left her destitute of the consolations which
theology has for the wrongdoer. It was plainly her
duty to send for the policeman and clear up the deception
she had practised on him. But this she could not do.
Her will, in spite of her reason, acted in the opposite

Q

226 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap XII

direction. And in this paralysis of her moral power she
saw the evil of the lie beginning. She had given it
birth ; and Nature would not permit her to strangle the
monster.

At last her maid returned and informed her that the
canaille had gone away. When she was again alone, she
rose, and walked slowly to and fro through the room,
forgetting the lapse of time in the restless activity of
her mind, until she was again interrupted, this time
by Bashville.

"Well?"

He was daunted by her tone ; for he had never before
heard her speak haughtily to a servant. He did not
understand that he had changed subjectively, and was
now her accomplice.

" He's given himself up."

" What do you mean ? " she said, with sudden dismay.

"Byron, madam. I brought some clothes to the
Lodge for him ; but when I got there he was gone. I
went round to the gates in search of him, and found him
in the hands of the police. They told me he'd just
given himself up. He wouldnt give any account of him-
self ; and he looked — well, sullen and beaten-down like."

"What will they do with him ? " she asked, turning
quite pale.

" A man got six weeks hard labor last month for the
same offence. Most likely thats what he'll get. And
very little for what he's done, as youd say if you saw him
doing it, madam."

"Then," said Lydia sternly, "it was to see this " — she
shrank from naming it — " this fight, that you asked my
permission to go out ! J>

"Yes, madam, it was," said Bashville, with some
bitterness. "I recognized Lord Worthington and plenty
more noblemen and gentlemen there."

Chap, xil Cashel Byron's Profession 227

Lydia was about to reply sharply ; but she checked
herself; and her usual tranquil manner came back as
she said, " That is no reason why you should have been
there."

Bashville's color began to waver, and his voice to need
increased control. " It's in human nature to go to such
a thing once," he said ; " but once is enough, at least for
me. Youll excuse my mentioning it, madam ; but what
with Lord Worthington and the rest of Byron's backers
screaming oaths and abuse at the other man ; and the
opposite party doing the same to Byron — well, I may not
be a gentleman ; but I hope I can conduct myself like a
man, even when I'm losing money."

"Then do not go to such an exhibition again,
Bashville. I must not dictate your amusements ; but I
do not think you are likely to benefit yourself by copying
Lord Worthington's tastes."

" I copy no lord's tastes," said Bashville, reddening.
"You hid the man that was fighting, Miss Carew.
Why do you look down on the man that was only a
bystander ? "

Lydia's color rose too. Her first impulse was to treat
this outburst as rebellion against her authority, and crush
it. But her vigilant sense of justice withheld her. "He
was a fugitive who took refuge in our house, Bashville.
You did not betray him."

" No," said Bashville, his expression subdued to one of
rueful pride. " When I am beaten by a better man, I
have courage enough to get out of his way and take no
mean advantage of him."

Lydia, not understanding, looked inquiringly at him.
He made a gesture as if throwing something from him,
and continued recklessly,

"But one way I'm as good as he, and better. A
footman is held more respectable than a prizefighter.

228 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XII

He's told you that he's in love with you ; and if it is to
be my last word, I'll tell you that the ribbon round your
neck is more to me than your whole body and soul is to
him or his like. When he took an unfair advantage of
me, and pretended to be a gentleman, I told Mr. Lucian
of him, and shewed him up for what he was. But when
I found him to-day hiding in the pantry at the Lodge, I
took no advantage of him, though I knew well that if
he'd been no more to you than any other man of his
sort, youd never have hid him. You know best why he
gave himself up to the police after your seeing his day's
work. But I will leave him to his luck. He is the best
man : let the best man win. I am sorry," added Bash-
ville, recovering his ordinary suave manner with an
effort, " to inconvenience you by a short notice ; but
I should take it as a particular favor if I might go this
evening."

" You had better," said Lydia, rising quite calmly, and
keeping resolutely away from her the strange emotional
effect of being astonished, outraged, and loved at one
unlooked-for stroke. "It is not advisable that you
should stay after what you have just "

"I knew that when I said it," interposed Bashville
hastily and doggedly.

u In going away you will be taking precisely the
course that would be adopted by any gentleman who
had spoken to the same effect. I am not offended by
your declaration : I recognize your right to make it. If
you need my testimony to further your future arrange-
ments, I shall always be happy to say that I believe you
to be a man of honor."

Bashville bowed, and said in a low voice, very
nervously, that he had no intention of going into service
again, but that he should always be proud of her good
opinion.

Chap. XII Cashel Byron's Profession 229

"You are fitted for better things," she said. "If you
embark in any enterprise requiring larger means than
you possess, I will be your surety. I thank you for your
invariable courtesy to me in the discharge of your duties.
Good-bye."

She bowed to him and left the room. Awestruck, he
returned her salutation as best he could, and stood motion-
less after she disappeared : his mind advancing on tiptoe
to grasp what had just passed. His chief sensation was
one of relief. He no longer dared to fancy himself in
love with such a woman. Her sudden consideration
for him as a suitor overwhelmed him with a sense of his
unfitness for such a part. He saw himself as a very
young, very humble, and very ignorant man, whose head
had been turned by a pleasant place and a kind mistress.
He stole away to pack his trunk, and to consider how
best to account to his fellow-servants for his sudden
departure.

CHAPTER XIII

ONE afternoon, Lydia, returning from her daily constitu-
tional walk, descried a strange woman on the castle terrace,
in conversation with the butler. Though it was warm
autumn weather, this person wore a black silk mantle
trimmed with fur, and heavily decorated with spurious
jet beads. As the female Wiltstokeners always ap-
proached Miss Carew in their best raiment, whether it
suited the season or not, she concluded that she was
about to be asked for a subscription to a school treat, a
temperance festival, or perhaps a testimonial to one of the
Wiltstoken curates.

When she came nearer, she saw that the stranger was
an elderly lady — or possibly not a lady — with crimped
hair, and ringlets hanging at each ear in a long-forgotten
fashion.

" Here is Miss Carew," said the butler shortly, as if
the old lady had tried his temper. "You. had better talk
to her yourself."

At this she seemed fluttered, and made a solemn
curtsy. Lydia, noticing the curtsy and the curls, guessed
that her visitor kept a dancing academy. Yet a certain
contradictory hardihood in her frame and bearing sug-
gested that perhaps she kept a tavern. However, as her
face was, on the whole, an anxious and a good face, and
her attitude towards the ladyof the castle one of embarrassed

Chap, xni Cashel Byron's Profession 231

humility, Lydia acknowledged her salutation kindly, and
waited for her to speak.

"I hope you wont consider it a liberty," said the
stranger tremulously. " I'm Mrs. Skene."

Lydia became ominously grave ; and Mrs. Skene
reddened a little. Then she continued, as if repeating
a carefully prepared and rehearsed speech, "It would
be esteemed a favor if I might have the honor of a few
words in private."

Lydia looked and felt somewhat stern ; but it was not
in her nature to rebuff any one without strong provoca-
tion. She invited her visitor to enter, and led the way
to the circular drawing-room, the strange decorations
of which exactly accorded with Mrs. Skene's ideas of
aristocratic splendor. As a professor of deportment
and etiquette, the ex-champion's wife was nervous under
the observation of such an expert as Lydia ; but she rose
to the occasion and got safely seated without a mistake.
For, although entering a room seems a simple matter to
many persons, it was to Mrs. Skene an operation governed
by the strict laws of the art she professed — one so elaborate,
indeed, that few of her pupils mastered it satisfactorily in
less than half-a-dozen lessons. Mrs. Skene soon dis-
missed it from her mind. She was too old to dwell upon
such vanities when real anxieties were pressing upon her.

" Oh, miss," she began appealingly, " the boy ! "

Lydia knew at once who was meant. But she re-
peated, as if at a loss, " The boy ? " And immediately
accused herself of insincerity.

" Our boy, maam. Cashel."

" Mrs. Skene ! " said Lydia, reproachfully.

Mrs. Skene understood all that Lydia's tone implied.
" I know, maam," she pleaded. " I know well. But
what could I do but come to you ? Whatever you said
to him, it has gone to his heart ; and he's dying."

232 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xill

" Pardon me," said Lydia promptly : " men do not
die of such things ; and Mr. Cashel Byron is not so
deficient either in robustness of body or hardness of
heart as to be an exception to that rule."

"Yes, miss," said Mrs. Skene sadly. "You are
thinking of the profession. You cant believe he has
any feelings because he fights. Ah, Miss, if you only
knew them as I do ! More tender hearted men dont
breathe. Cashel is like a young child, his feelings are
that easily touched ; and I have known stronger than he
to die of broken hearts only because they were unlucky
in their calling. Just think what a high-spirited young
man must feel when a lady calls him a wild beast. That
was a cruel word, miss : it was indeed."

Lydia was so disconcerted by this attack that she had
to collect herself carefully before replying. Then she
said, " Are you aware, Mrs. Skene, that my knowledge
of Mr. Byron is very slight — that I have not seen him
ten times in my life ? Perhaps you do not know the
circumstances in which we last met. I was greatly
shocked by the injuries he had inflicted on another
man ; and I believe I spoke of them as the work
of a wild beast. For your sake, I am sorry I said so ,
for he has told me that he regards you as his mother ;
but "

" Oh no ! Far from it, miss. I ask your pardon a
thousand times for taking the word out of your mouth ;
but me and Ned is no more to him than your house-
keeper or governess might be to you. Thats what I'm
afraid you dont understand, miss. He's no relation of
ours. I do assure you that he's a gentleman born and
bred ; and when we go back to Melbourne next Christmas,
it will be just the same as if he had never known us."

" I hope he will not be so ungrateful as to forget you.
He has told me his history."

Chap. XIII Cashel Byron's Profession 233

" Thats more than he ever told me, miss ; so you may
judge how much he thinks of you."

Another pause followed this. Mrs. Skene felt that the
first round was over, and that she had held her own
with a little to spare. But Lydia soon rallied.

" Mrs. Skene," she said, penetratingly : " when you
came to pay me this visit, what object did you propose
to yourself ? What do you expect me to do ? "

" Well, maam," said Mrs. Skene, troubled, " the poor
lad has had crosses lately. There was the disappointment
about you — the first one, I mean — that had been preying
on his mind for a long time. Then there was that
exhibition spar at the Agricultural Hall, when Paradise
acted so dishonorable. Cashel heard that you were
looking on j and then he read the shameful way the
newspapers wrote of him ; and he thought youd believe
it all. I couldnt get that thought out of his head. I
said to him, over and over again "

"Excuse me," said Lydia, interrupting. "We had
better be frank with one another. It is useless to
assume that he mistook my feeling on that subject. I
was shocked by the severity with which he treated his
opponent."

" But bless you, thats his business," said Mrs. Skene,
opening her eyes widely. " I put it to you, miss," she
continued, as if mildly reprobating some want of principle
on Lydia's part, " whether an honest man shouldnt fulfil
his engagements. I assure you that the pay a respectable
professional usually gets for a spar like that is half a guinea ;
and that was all Paradise got. But Cashel stood on his
reputation, and wouldnt take less than ten guineas ; and
he got it too. Now many another in his position would
have gone into the ring, and fooled away the time pre-
tending to box, and just swindling those that paid him.
But Cashel is as honest and highminded as a king. You

234 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIII

saw for yourself the trouble he took. He couldnt have
spared himself less if he had been fighting for a thousand a
side and the belt, instead of for a paltry ten guineas. Surely
you dont think the worse of him for his honesty, miss ? "

" I confess," said Lydia, laughing in spite of herself,
" that your view of the transaction did not occur to me."

"Of course not, maam : no more it wouldnt to
any one, without they were accustomed to know the
right and wrong of the profession. Well, as I was
saying, miss, that was a fresh disappointment to him.
It worrited him more than you can imagine. Then
came a deal of bother about the match with Paradise.
First Paradise could only get five hundred pounds ; and
the boy wouldnt agree for less than a thousand. I think
it's on your account that he's been so particular about
the money of late ; for he was never covetious before.
Then Mellish was bent on its coming off down hereabouts ;
and the poor lad was so mortal afraid of its getting to
your ears that he wouldnt consent until they persuaded
him you would be in foreign parts in August. Glad I
was when the articles were signed at last, before he was
worrited into his grave. All the time he was training
he was longing for a sight of you ; but he went through
with it as steady and faithful as a man could. And he
trained beautiful. I saw him on the morning of the
fight ; and he was like a shining angel : it would have
done a lady's heart good to look at him. Ned went
about like a madman offering twenty to one on him : if
he had lost, we should have been ruined at this moment.
And then to think of the police coming just as he was
finishing Paradise. I cried like a child when I heard of
it : I dont think there was ever anything so cruel. He
could have finished him quarter of an hour sooner, only
he held back to make the market for Ned." Mrs.
Skene, overcome, blew her nose before proceeding.

Chap. XIII Cashel Byron's Profession 235

" Then, on the top of that, came what passed betwixt
you and him, and made him give himself up to the
police. Lord Worthington bailed him out ; but what
with the disgrace, and the disappointment, and his time
and money thrown away, and the sting of your words all
coming together, he was quite brokenhearted. And
now he mopes and frets ; and neither me nor Ned nor
Fan can get any good of him. They tell me that he
wont be sent to prison ; but if he is " — here Mrs. Skene
broke down and began to cry — " it will be the death of
him ; and God forgive those that have brought it about."

Sorrow always softened Lydia ; but tears hardened
her again : she had no patience with them.

" And the other man ? " she said. " Have you heard
anything of him ? I suppose he is in some hospital."

" In hospital ! " repeated Mrs. Skene, checking her
tears in alarm. " Who ? "

" Paradise," replied Lydia, pronouncing the name
reluctantly.

" He in hospital ! Why, bless your innocence, miss,
I saw him yesterday looking as well as such an ugly
brute could look : not a mark on him, and he bragging
what he would have done to Cashel if the police hadnt
come up ! He's a nasty low fighting man, so he is ; and
I'm only sorry that our, boy demeaned himself to strip
with the like of him. I hear that Cashel made a perfect
picture of him, and that you saw him. I suppose you
were frightened, maam, and very naturally too, not being
used to such sights. I have had my Ned brought home
to me in that state that I have poured brandy into his
eye, thinking it was his mouth ; and even Cashel,
careful as he is, has been nearly blind for three days.
It's not to be expected that they could have all the
money for nothing. Dont let it prey on your mind,
miss. If you married — I am only supposing it," said

236 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIII

Mrs. Skene in soothing parenthesis as she saw Lydia
shrink from the word — " if you were married to a great
surgeon, as you might be without derogation to your
high rank, youd be ready to faint if you saw him cut off
a leg or an arm, as he would have to do every day for
his livelihood ; but youd be proud of his cleverness in
being able to do it. Thats how I feel with regard to
Ned. I tell you the truth, maam, I shouldnt like to see
him in the ring no more than the lady of an officer in
the Guards would like to see her husband in the field of
battle running his sword into the poor blacks or into the
French ; but as it's his profession, and people think so
highly of him for it, I make up my mind to it ; and now
I take quite an interest in it, particularly as it does
nobody any harm. Not that I would have you think
that Ned ever took the arm or leg off a man : Lord
forbid ! or Cashel either. Oh maam, I thank you
kindly ; and I'm sorry you should have given yourself
the trouble." This referred to the entry of a servant
with tea.

"Still," said Lydia, when they were at leisure to
resume the conversation, "I do not quite understand
why you have come to me. Personally you are most
welcome ; but in what way did you expect to relieve
Mr. Byron's mind by visiting me ? Did he ask you to
come ? "

" He'd have died first. I came down of my own
accord, knowing what was the matter with him."

" And what then ? "

Mrs. Skene looked around to satisfy herself that they
were alone. Then she leaned towards Lydia, and said in
an emphatic whisper,

" Why not marry him, miss ? "

" Because I dont choose, Mrs. Skene," said Lydia, with
perfect good humor.

Chap. XIII Cashel Byron's Profession 237

" But consider a little, miss. Where will you ever get
such another chance ? Only think what a man he is :
champion of the world and a gentleman as well ! The two
things have never happened before, and never will again.
I have known lots of champions ; but they were not fit
company for the like of you. Ned was champion when
I married him ; and my family thought that I lowered
myself in doing it, because I was a professional dancer
on the stage. The men in the ring are common men
mostly ; and so ladies are cut off from their society.
But it has been your good luck to take the fancy of one
thats a gentleman. What more could a lady desire ?
Where will you find his equal in health, strength, good
looks or good manners ? As to his character, I can tell
you about that. In Melbourne, as you may suppose, all
the girls and women were breaking their hearts for his
sake. I declare to you that I used to have two or three
of them in every evening merely to look at him ; and he,
poor innocent lad, taking no more notice of them than if
they were cabbages. He used to be glad to get away
from them by going into the saloon to box with the
gentlemen ; and then they used to peep at him through
the door and get worse than ever. But they never got a
wink from him. You were the first, Miss Carew ; and,
believe me, you will be the last. If there had ever been
another, he couldnt have kept it from me ; because his
disposition is as open as a child's. And his honesty is
beyond everything you can imagine. I have known him
to be offered eight hundred pounds to lose a fight that
he could only get two hundred by winning, not to
mention his chance of getting nothing at all if he lost
honestly. You know — for I see you know the world,
maam — how few men would be proof against such a
temptation. There are men high up in their profession
— so high that youd as soon suspect the queen on her

238 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIII

throne of selling her country's battles as them — that
fight cross on the sly when it's made worth their while.
My Ned is no low prizefighter, as is well known ; but
when he let himself be beat by that little Killarney
Primrose, and went out and bought a horse and trap next
day, what could I think ? There, maam : I tell you
that of my own husband ; and I tell you that Cashel
never was beat, although times out of mind it would have
paid him better to lose than to win, along of those wicked
betting men. Not an angry word have I ever had from
him, nor the sign of liquor have I ever seen on him,
except once on Ned's birthday ; and then nothing but
fun came out of him in his cups, when the truth comes
out of all men. Oh do just think how happy you ought
to be, miss, if you would only bring yourself to look at
it in the proper light. A gentleman born and bred,
champion of the world, sober, honest, spotless as the
unborn babe, able to take his own part and yours in
any society, and mad in love with you ! He thinks you
an angel from heaven — and so I am sure you are, miss,
in your heart. I do assure you that my Fan gets quite
put out because she thinks he draws comparisons to her
disadvantage. I dont think you can be so hard to please
as to refuse him, miss."

Lydia leaned back in her chair, and looked at Mrs.
Skene with a curious expression which soon brightened
into an irrepressible smile. Mrs. Skene smiled very
slightly in complaisance, but conveyed by her serious
brow that what she had said was no laughing matter.

" I must take some time to consider all that you have
so eloquently urged," said Lydia. "I am in earnest,
Mrs. Skene : you have produced a great effect upon me.
Now let us talk of something else for the present. Your
daughter is quite well, I hope."

" Thank you kindly, maam, she enjoys her health."

Chap. XIII Cashel Byron's Profession 239

" And you also ? "

" I am as well as can be expected," said Mrs. Skene,
too fond of commiseration to admit that she was in
perfect health.

" You must have a rare sense of security," said Lydia,
watching her, " being happily married to so celebrated a
— a professor of boxing as Mr. Skene. Is it not pleasant
to have a powerful protector ? "

"Ah miss, you little know," exclaimed Mrs. Skene,
falling into the trap baited by her own grievances, and
losing sight of CashePs interests. "The fear of his
getting into trouble is never off my mind. Ned is
quietness itself until he has a drop of drink in him ; and
then he is like the rest — ready to fight the first that
provokes him. And if the police get hold of him he has
no chance. There's no justice for a fighting man. Just
let it be said that he's a professional, and thats enough
for the magistrate : away with him to prison, and
goodbye to his pupils and his respectability at once.
Thats what I live in terror of. And as to being pro-
tected, I'd let myself be robbed fifty times over sooner
than say a word to him that might bring on a quarrel.
Many a time driving home of a night have I overpaid
the cabman on the sly, afraid he would grumble and
provoke Ned. It's the drink that does it all. Gentle-
men are proud to be seen speaking with him in public ;
and they come up one after another asking what he'll
have, until the next thing he knows is that he's in bed
with his boots on, his wrist sprained, and maybe his
eye black, trying to remember what he was doing the
night before. What I suffered the first three years of
our marriage none can tell. Then he took the pledge ;
and ever since that he's been very good : I havent seen
him what you could fairly call drunk, not more than
three times a year. It was the blessing of God, and

240 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIII

a beating he got from a milkman in Wesminister, that
made him ashamed of himself. I kept him to it and emi-
grated him out of the way of his old friends. Since that,
there has been a blessing on him ; and weve prospered."

" Is Cashel quarrelsome ? "

The tone of this question awakened Mrs. Skene to
the untimeliness of her complaints. " No, no," she
protested. " He never drinks ; and as to fighting, if you
can believe such a thing, miss, I dont think he has had a
casual turn-up three times in his life : not oftener, at any
rate. All he wants is to be married ; and then he'll be
steady to his grave. But if he's left adrift now, Lord
knows what will become of him. He'll mope first — he's
moping at present — ; then he'll drink ; then he'll lose

his pupils, get out of condition, be beaten, and One

word from you, miss, would save him. If I might just
tell him "

" Nothing," said Lydia. " Absolutely nothing. The
only assurance I can give you is that you have softened
the opinion I had formed of some of his actions. But
that I should marry Mr. Cashel Byron is simply the
most improbable thing in the world. All questions of
personal inclination apart, the mere improbability is
enough in itself to appal an ordinary woman."

Mrs. Skene did not quite understand this ; but she
understood sufficient for her purpose. She rose to go,
shaking her head despondently, and saying, " I see how it
is, maam. You think him beneath you. Your relations
wouldnt like it."

" There is no doubt that my relations would be greatly
shocked ; and I am bound to take that into account — for
what it is worth."

"We should never trouble you," said Mrs. Skene,
lingering. " England will see the last of us in a month

Chap. XIII Cashel Byron's Profession 241

" That will make no difference to me, except that I
shall regret not being able to have a pleasant chat with
you occasionally." This was not true ; but Lydia fancied
that she was beginning to take a hardened delight in
lying.

Mrs. Skene was not to be consoled by compliments.
She again shook her head. " It is very kind of you to
give me good words, miss," she said ; " but if I might
have one for the boy, you could say what you liked
to me."

Lydia considered far before she replied. At last she
said, " I am sorry I spoke harshly to him, since, driven as
he was by circumstances, I cannot see how he could have
acted otherwise than he did. And I overlooked the
economics of his profession. In short, I am not used to
fisticuffs ; and what I saw shocked me so much that I
was unreasonable. But," continued Lydia, checking
Mrs. Skene's rising hope with a warning finger, " how,
if you tell him this, will you make him understand that I
say so as an act of justice, and not in the least as a proffer
of affection ? "

" A crumb of comfort will satisfy him, miss. I'll just
tell him that Ive seen you, and that you meant nothing
by what you said the other —

" Mrs. Skene," said Lydia, interrupting her softly :
" tell him nothing at all as yet. I have made up my
mind at last. If he does not hear from me within a
fortnight, you may tell him what you please. Can you
wait so long ? "

"Of course. Whatever you wish, maam. But
Mellish's benefit is to be to-morrow night ; and —

" What have I to do with Mellish or his benefit ? "

Mrs. Skene, abashed, murmured apologetically that
she was only wishful that the boy should do himself
credit.

242 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIII

" If he is to benefit Mellish by beating somebody, he
will not be behindhand. Remember : you are not to
mention me for a fortnight. Is that a bargain ? "

" Whatever you wish, maam," repeated Mrs. Skene,
hardly satisfied. But Lydia gave her no further comfort ;
so she begged to take her leave, expressing a hope that
things would turn out to the advantage of all parties.
Lydia insisted on her partaking of some solid refresh-
ment, and afterwards drove her to the railway station in
the pony -carriage. Just before they parted, Lydia,
suddenly recurring to their former subject, said,

" Does Mr. Byron ever think ? "

" Think ! " said Mrs. Skene emphatically. " Never.
There isnt a more cheerful lad in existence, miss."

Then Mrs. Skene was carried away to London,
wondering whether it could be quite right for a young
lady to live in a gorgeous castle without any elder of her
own sex, and to speak freely and civilly to her inferiors.
When she got home, she said nothing of her excursion
to Skene, who had never been known to keep a secret
except as to the whereabouts of a projected fight. But
she sat up late with her daughter Fanny, tantalizing her
by accounts of the splendor of the castle, and consoling
her by describing Miss Carew as a slight creature with
red hair and no figure (Fanny having jet black hair, fine
arms, and being one of CashePs most proficient pupils).

" All the same, Fan," added Mrs. Skene, as she took
her candlestick at two in the morning, " if it comes off,
Cashel will never be master in his own house."

" I can see that very plain," said Fanny ; " but if
respectable professional people are not good enough for
him, he will have only himself to thank if he gets him-
self looked down upon by empty-headed swells."

Meanwhile, Lydia, on her return to the castle after a
long drive round the country, had attempted to overcome

Chap. XIII Cashel Byron's Profession 243

an attack of restlessness by getting to work on the
biography of her father. With a view to preparing a
chapter on his taste in literature she had lately been
examining his favorite books for marked passages. She
now resumed this search, standing perched on the library
ladder, taking down volume after volume, and occasion-
ally dipping into the contents for a few pages or so. At
this desultory work the time passed as imperceptibly as
the shadows lengthened. The last book she examined
was a volume of poems. There were no marks in it ;
but it opened at a page which had evidently lain open
often before. The first words Lydia saw were these :

" What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through
Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do !
Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all."

Lydia hastily stepped down from the ladder, and
recoiled until she reached a chair, where she sat and read
and re-read these lines. The failing light roused her to
action. She replaced the book on the shelf, and said, as
she went to the writing table, "If such a doubt as that
haunted my father, it will haunt me, unless I settle what
is to be my heart's business now and for ever. If it be
possible for a child of mine to escape this curse, it must
inherit its immunity from its father, and not from me —
from the man of impulse who never thinks, and not from
the rationalizing woman, who cannot help thinking.
Be it so."

CHAPTER XIV

BEFORE many days had elapsed, a letter came for Cashel
as he sat taking tea with the Skene family. When he
saw the handwriting, a deep red color mounted to his
temples.

" Oh Lor ! " said Miss Skene, who sat next him.
" Lets read it."

" Go to the dickens," cried Cashel, hastily baffling her
as she snatched at it.

" Dont worrit him, Fan," said Mrs. Skene tenderly.

"Not for the world, poor dear," said Miss Skene,
putting her hand affectionately on his shoulder. " Let
me just peep at the name — only to see who it's from.
Do, Cashel dear."

u It's from nobody," said Cashel. " Here : get out.
If you dont let me alone, I'll make it warm for you the
next time you come to me for a lesson."

"Very likely," said Fanny contemptuously. "Who
had the best of it to-day, I should like to know ? "

" Gev him a hot un on the chin with her right as
ever I see," observed Skene, with hoarse mirth.

Cashel moved out of Fanny's reach to read the letter,
which ran thus :

Regent's Park.

Dear Mr. Cashel Byron

I am desirous that you should meet a friend of

Chap, xiv Cashel Byron's Profession 245

mine. She will be here at three o'clock to-morrow after-
noon. You would oblige me greatly by calling on me at that
hour. yours faithfully, Lydia Carew.

There was a long pause, during which there was no
sound in the room except the ticking of the clock and
the munching of shrimps by the ex-champion.

"Good news, I hope, Cashel," said Mrs. Skene at
last, tremulously.

" Blow me if I understand it," said Cashel. " Can
you make it out ? " And he handed the letter to his
adopted mother. Skene stopped eating to see his wife
read, a feat which was to him one of the wonders of
learning.

" I think the lady she mentions must be herself," said
Mrs. Skene, after some consideration.

"No," said Cashel, shaking his head. "She always
says what she means."

" Ah," said Skene cunningly ; " but she cant write it
though. Thats the worst of writing: no one cant never
tell exactly what it means. I never signed articles yet
that there werent some misunderstanding about ; and
articles is the best writing that can be had anywhere."

" Youd better go and see what it means," said Mrs.
Skene.

" Right," said Skene. " Go and have it out with her,
my boy."

" It is short, and not particularly sweet," said Fanny.
" She might have had the civility to put her crest at the
top."

" What would you give to be her ? " said Cashel
derisively, catching the letter as she tossed it disdainfully
to him.

"If I was, I'd respect myself more than to throw
myself at your head."

246 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIV

" Hush, Fanny," said Mrs. Skene : " youre too sharp.
Ned : you oughtnt to encourage her by laughing."

Next day Cashel paid extra attention to his diet; took
some exercise with the gloves ; had a bath and a rub
down ; and presented himself at Regent's Park at three
o'clock in excellent condition. Expecting to see Bash-
ville, he was surprised when the door was opened by a
female servant.

" Miss Carew at home ? "

" Yes, sir," said the girl, falling in love with him at
first sight. " Mr. Byron, sir ? "

" Thats me," said Cashel. " I say : is there any one
with her ? "

" Only a lady, sir."

" Oh damn ! Well, it cant be helped. Never say
die."

The girl led him to a door ; and when he entered
shut it softly without announcing him. The room was
a picture gallery, lighted from the roof. At the end,
with their backs toward him, were two ladies : Lydia,
and a woman whose noble carriage and elegant form
would have raised hopes of beauty in a man less pre-
occupied than Cashel. But he, after advancing some
distance with his eyes on Lydia, suddenly changed
countenance ; stopped ; and was actually turning to fly
when the ladies, hearing his light step, faced about and
rooted him to the spot. As Lydia offered him her hand,
her companion, who had surveyed the visitor first with
indifference and then with incredulous surprise, ex-
claimed, in a burst of delighted recognition, like a child
finding a long lost plaything, " My darling boy ! "
And going to Cashel with the grace of a swan, she
clasped him in her arms. In acknowledgment of which,
he thrust his red discomfited face over her shoulder ;
winked at Lydia with his tongue in his cheek ; and said,

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 247

" This is what you may call the Voice of Nature, and
no mistake."

" What a splendid creature you are ! " said Mrs.
Byron, holding him a little away from her, the better
to admire him. " How handsome you are, you wretch ! "

" How d'ye do, Miss Carew," said Cashel, breaking
loose, and turning to Lydia. " Never mind her : it's
only my mother. At least," he added, as if correcting
himself, "shes my mamma."

" And where have you come from? Where have you
been ? Do you know that I have not seen you for seven
years, you unnatural boy ? Think of his being my
son, Miss Carew ! Give me another kiss, my own," she
continued, grasping his arm affectionately. "What a
muscular creature you are ! "

"Kiss away as much as you like," said Cashel,
struggling with the old schoolboy sullenness as it returned
oppressively upon him. "I suppose youre well. You
look right enough."

"Yes," she said mockingly, beginning to despise him
for his inability to act up to her in this thrilling scene :
" I am right enough. Your language is as refined as
ever. And why do you get your hair cropped close like
that ? You must let it grow, and "

"Now look here," said Cashel, stopping her hand
neatly as she raised it to re-arrange his locks. " You
just drop it, or I'll walk out at that door and you wont
see me again for another seven years. You can either
take me as you find me, or let me alone. If you want
to know the reason for my wearing my hair short, you'll
find it in the histories of Absalom and Dan Mendoza.
Now are you any the wiser ? "

Mrs. Byron became a shade colder. " Indeed ! "
she said. "Just the same still, Cashel ? "

"Just the same, both one and other of us," he replied.

248 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIV

" Before you spoke six words, I felt as if we'd parted only
yesterday."

" I am rather taken aback by the success of my
experiment," interposed Lydia. " I invited you purposely
to meet one another. The resemblance between you
led me to suspect the truth ; and my suspicion was
confirmed by the account Mr. Byron gave me of his
adventures."

Mrs. Byron's vanity was touched. " Is he like me ? "
she said, scanning his features. He, without heeding
her, said to Lydia with undisguised mortification,

" And was that why you sent for me ? "

" Are you disappointed ? " said Lydia.

"He is not in the least glad to see me," said Mrs.
Byron plaintively. " He has no heart."

"Now she'll go on for the next hour," said Cashel,
looking to Lydia, obviously because he found it much
pleasanter than looking at his mother. " No matter : if
you dont care, I dont. So fire away, mamma."

" And you think we are really like one another I " said
Mrs. Byron, not heeding him. " Yes : I think we are.

Th'ere is a slight " She broke off, and added with

sudden mistrust " Are you married, Cashel ? "

« Ha ! ha ! ha ! " shouted Cashel. " No ; but I hope
to be, some day." And he ventured to glance again at
Lydia, who was, however, attentively observing Mrs.
Byron.

" Well, tell me everything about yourself. What are
you ? Now I do hope, Cashel, that you have not gone
upon the stage."

" The stage ! " said Cashel contemptuously. " Do I
look like it ? "

" You certainly do not," said Mrs. Byron whimsically,
" although you have a certain odious professional air too.
What did you do when you ran away so scandalously

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 249

from that stupid school in the north ? How do you earn
your living ? Or do you earn it ? "

" I suppose I do, seeing that I am alive. What do you
think I was best fit for after my bringing up ? Crossing
sweeping, perhaps ! When I ran away from Panley, I

" A sailor, of all things ! You dont look like one.
And pray, what rank have you attained in your profes-
sion ? "

" The front rank. The top of the tree," said Cashel
shortly.

"Mr. Byron is not at present following the profession
of a sailor, nor has he done so for many years," said
Lydia.

Cashel looked at her, half in appeal, half in remon-
strance.

"Something very different indeed," pursued Lydia,
with quiet obstinacy. " And something very startling."

" Cant you shut up," exclaimed Cashel. " I should
have expected more sense from you. Whats the use of
setting her on to make a fuss and put me in a rage. I'll
go away if you dont stop."

" What is the matter ? " said Mrs. Byron. " Have you
been doing anything disgraceful, Cashel ? "

" There she goes : I told you so. I keep a gym-
nasium : thats all. There's nothing disgraceful in that,
I hope."

" A gymnasium ! " repeated Mrs. Byron, with imperi-
ous disgust. " What nonsense ! You must give up
everything of that kind, Cashel. It is very silly, and
very low. You were too ridiculously proud, of course,
to come to me for the means of keeping yourself in a
proper position. I suppose I shall have to provide you
with "

" If I ever take a penny from you, may I "

250 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xiv

Cashel caught Lydia's anxious look, and checked himself.
He lightly retreated a step, a cunning smile flickering on
his lips. "No," he said: "it's just playing into your
hands to lose temper with you. Make me angry now if
you can."

"There is not the slightest reason for anger," said
Mrs. Byron, angry herself. "Your temper seems to
have become ungovernable — or rather to have remained
so ; for it was never remarkable for sweetness."

"No?" retorted Cashel, jeering good-humoredly.
" Not the slightest occasion to lose my temper ! Not
when I am told that I am silly and low ! Why, I think
you must fancy that youre talking to your little Cashel,
that blessed child you were so fond of. But youre not.
Youre talking — now for a screech, Miss Carew ! — to the
champion of Australia, the United States, and England ;
holder of three silver belts and one gold one ; professor
of boxing to the nobility and gentry of St. James's ; and
common prizefighter to the whole globe without reference
to weight or color for not less than ^500 a side.
Thats Cashel Byron."

Mrs. Byron recoiled, astounded. After a pause, she
said " Oh, Cashel, how could you ? " Then, approaching
him again, " Do you mean to say that you go out and
fight those great rough savages ? "

" Yes, I do. You can have the gold belt to wear in
King John if you think itll become you."

" And that you beat them ? "

"Yes. Ask Miss Carew how Billy Paradise looked
after standing before me for an hour."

" You wonderful boy ! What an occupation ! And
have you done all this in your own name ? "

"Of course I have. I am not ashamed of it. I
often wondered whether you had seen my name in the
papers ? "

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 251

" I never read the papers. But you must have heard
of my return to England. Why did you not come to
see me ? "

" I wasnt quite certain that you would like it," said
Cashel uneasily, avoiding her eye. " Hallo ! " he ex-
claimed, as he attempted to refresh himself by another
look at Lydia : " she's given us the slip."

" She is quite right to leave us alone together under
the circumstances. And now tell me why my precious
boy should doubt that his own mother wished to see
him."

" I dont know why he should," said Cashel, with
melancholy submission to her affection. " But he did."

" How insensible you are ! Did you not know that
you were always my cherished darling — my only son ? "

Cashel, who was now sitting beside her on an ottoman,
groaned, and moved restlessly, but said nothing.

" Are you glad to see me ? "

" Yes," said Cashel dismally, " I suppose I am. I

By Jingo ! " he cried, with sudden animation, " perhaps
you can give me a lift here. I never thought of that.
I say, mamma : I am in great trouble at present ; and I
think you can help me if you will."

Mrs. Byron looked at him satirically. But she said
soothingly, <c Of course I will help you — as far as I am
able — my precious one. All I possess is yours."

Cashel ground his feet on the floor impatiently, and
then sprang up. After an interval, during which he
seemed to be swallowing some indignant protest, he
said,

cc You may put your mind at rest, once and for all, on
the subject of money. I dont want anything of that
sort."

" I am glad you are so independent, Cashel."

"So am I."

252 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xiv

" Do, pray, be more amiable."

" I am amiable enough," he cried desperately, " only
you wont listen."

" My treasure," said Mrs. Byron remorsefully. "What
is the matter ? "

"Well," said Cashel, somewhat mollified, "it's this.
I want to marry Miss Carew : thats all."

" You marry Miss Carew ! " Mrs. Byron's tenderness
had vanished \ and her tone was shrewd and contemptu-
ous. " Do you know, you silly boy, that '

" I know all about it," said Cashel determinedly :
" what she is ; and what I am ; and the rest of it.
And I want to marry her ; and, whats more, I will
marry her, if I have to break the neck of every swell in
London first. So you can either help me or not, as you
please ; but if you wont, never call me your precious boy
any more. Now ! "

Mrs. Byron abdicated her dominion there and then
for ever. She sat with quite a mild expression for some
time in silence. Then she said,

" After all, I do not see why you should not. It
would be a very good match for you."

" Yes ; but a deuced bad one for her."

" Really I do not see that, Cashel. When your uncle
dies, I suppose you will succeed to the Dorsetshire
property."

" I the heir to a property ! Are you in earnest ? "

" Of course. Old Bingley Byron, disagreeable as he
is, cannot live for ever."

" Who the dickens is Bingley Byron ; and what has
he to do with me ? "

" Your uncle, of course. Really, Cashel, you ought
to think about these things. Did it never occur to you
that you must have relatives, like other people ? "

" You never told me anything about them. Well, I

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 253

am blowed ! But — but — I mean . Supposing he is

my uncle, am I his lawful heir ? "

" Yes. Walford Byron, the only brother besides your
father, died years ago, whilst you were at Moncrief 's ;
and he had no sons. Bingley is a bachelor."

"But," said Cashel cautiously, "wont there be some
bother about my — at least "

" My dearest child, what are you thinking or talking
about ? Nothing can be clearer than your title."

" Well," said Cashel blushing, " a lot of people used to
make out that you werent married at all."

" What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Byron indignantly. " Oh,
they dare not say so ! Impossible. Why did you not
tell me at once ? "

" I didnt think about it," said Cashel, hastily excusing
himself. " I was too young to care. It doesnt matter
now. My father is dead, inst he ? "

" He died when you were a baby. You have often
made me angry with you, poor little innocent, by
reminding me of him. Do not talk of him to me."

" Not if you dont wish. Just one thing though,
mamma. Was he a gentleman ? "

" Of course. What a question ! "

" Then I am as good as any of the swells that think
themselves her equals ? She has a cousin in a govern-
ment office : a fellow that gives himself out as the Home
Secretary, and most likely sits in a big chair in a hall and
cheeks the public. Am I as good as he is ? "

" You are perfectly well connected by your mother's
side, Cashel. The Byrons are only commoners ; but
even they are one of the oldest county families in
England."

Cashel began to show signs of excitement. " How
much a year are they worth ? " he demanded.

"I dont know how much they are worth now:

254 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xiv

your father was always in difficulties ; and so was his
father. But Bingley is a miser. Five thousand a year,
perhaps."

" Thats an independence. Thats enough. She said
she couldnt expect a man to be so thunderingly rich as
she is."

" Indeed ? Then you have discussed the question
with her ? "

Cashel was about to speak, when the maid entered to
say that Miss Carew was in the library, and begged that
they would come to her as soon as they were quite dis-
engaged. As the girl withdrew, he said eagerly,

" I wish youd go home, mamma, and let me catch her
in the library by herself. Tell me where you live ; and
I'll come in the evening and let you know all about it.
That is, if you have no objection."

" What objection could I possibly have, dearest one ?
Are you sure you are not spoiling your chance by too
much haste ? She has no occasion to hurry, Cashel ;
and she knows it."

" I am dead certain that now is my time or never. I
always know by instinct when to go in and finish.
Here's your mantle."

u In such a hurry to get rid of your poor old mother,
Cashel ? "

" Oh bother ! youre not old. You wont mind my
wanting you to go for this once, will you ? "

She smiled affectionately ; put on her mantle ; and
turned her cheek towards him to be kissed. The un-
accustomed gesture alarmed him : he got away a step,
and involuntarily assumed an attitude of self-defence, as
if the problem before him were a pugilistic one. Recover-
ing himself immediately, he kissed her, and impatiently
accompanied her to the house door, which he closed softly
behind her, leaving her to walk in search of her carriage

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 255

alone. Then he stole upstairs to the library, where he
found Lydia reading.

" She's gone," he said.

Lydia put down her book ; looked up at him ; saw
what was coming j looked down again to hide a spasm
of terror j and said, with a steady severity that cost her a
great effort, u I hope you have not quarrelled."

" Lord bless you, no ! We kissed one another like
turtle doves. At odd moments she wheedles me into
feeling fond of her in spite of myself. She went away
because I asked her to."

u And why do you ask my guests to go away ? "

" Because I wanted to be alone with you. Dont look
as if you didnt understand. She's told me a whole heap
of things about myself that alter our affairs completely.
My birth is all right ; I'm heir to a county family that
came over with the Conqueror ; and I shall have a
decent income. I can afford to give away weight to old
Webber now."

" Well ? " said Lydia sternly.

" Well," said Cashel unabashed, " the only use of all
that to me is that I may marry if I like. No more
fighting or teaching now."

" And when you are married, will you be as tender to
your wife as you are to your mother ? "

Cashel's elation vanished. " I knew youd think that,"
he said. <c I am always the same with her : I cant help
it. I cant like a woman through thick and thin merely
because she happens to be my mother ; and I wont
pretend to do it to please anybody. She makes me look
like a fool, or like a brute. Have I ever been so with
you ? "

" Yes," said Lydia. " Except," she added, " that you
have never shewn absolute dislike to me."

" Ah ! Except ! Thats a very big except. But I dont

256 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xiv

dislike her. Blood is thicker than water ; and I have a
softness for her ; only I wont put up with her nonsense.
But it's different with you — I cant explain how, because
I'm not good at sentiment — not that there's any sentiment
about it. At least, I dont mean that ; but — Youre
fond of me in a sort of way, aint you ? "

" Yes ; I'm fond of you in a sort of way."

"Well, then," he said uneasily, "wont you marry
me ? I'm not such a fool as you think ; and youll like
me better after a while."

Lydia became very pale. " Have you considered,"
she said, " that henceforth you will be an idle man, and
that I shall always be a busy woman, pre-occupied with
work that may seem very dull to you ? "

" I wont be idle. There's lots of things I can do
besides boxing. We'll get on together, never fear.
People that are fond of one another never have any
difficulty ; and people that hate each other never have
any comfort. I'll be on the look-out to make you happy.
You neednt fear my interrupting your Latin and Greek :
I wont expect you to give up your whole life to me.
Why should I ? There's reason in everything. So long
as you are mine, and nobody else's, I'll be content. And
I'll be yours and nobody else's. Whats the use of
supposing half-a-dozen accidents that may never happen ?
Lets take our chance. You have too much good nature
ever to be nasty."

" It would be a hard bargain," she said doubtfully ;
" for you would have to give up your occupation ; and I
should give up nothing but my unfruitful liberty."

" I will swear never to fight again ; and you needrit
swear anything. If that is not an easy bargain, I dont
know what is."

" Easy for me : yes. But for you ? "

"Never mind me. You do whatever you like; and

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 257

I'll do whatever you like. You have a conscience ; so I
know that whatever you like will be the best thing. I
have the most science ; but you have the most sense.
Come ! "

Lydia looked around, as if for a means of escape.
Cashel waited anxiously. There was a long pause.

" It cant be," he said pathetically, " that youre afraid
of me because I was a prizefighter."

" Afraid of you ! No : I am afraid of myself; afraid
of the future ; afraid for you. But my mind is already
made up on this subject. When I brought about this
meeting between you and your mother, I determined to
marry you if you asked me again."

She stood up quietly, and waited. The rough hardi-
hood of the ring fell from him like a garment : he
blushed deeply, and did not know what to do. Nor did
she ; but without willing it she came a step closer to
him, and turned up her face towards his. He, nearly
blind with confusion, put his arms about her and kissed
her. Suddenly she broke loose from his arms ; seized the
lappels of his coat tightly in her hands ; and leaned back
until she hung from him with all her weight.

" Cashel," she said : cc we are the silliest lovers in the
world, I believe : we know nothing about it. Are you
really fond of me ? "

He could only answer " Yes " in a constrained way,
and stare helplessly and timidly at her. His ineptitude
was embarrassing ; but she had sense enough to be glad
to find him unmistakeably as entire a novice at love-
making as herself. He remained shy, and was so
evidently anxious to go that she presently asked him to
leave her for a while, though she was surprised to feel a
faint pang of disappointment when he consented.

On leaving the house, he hurried to the address which
his mother had given him : a prodigious building in

258 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIV

Westminster, divided into residential flats, to the seventh
floor of which he ascended in a lift. As he stepped from
it he saw Lueian Webber walking away from him along
a corridor. Obeying a sudden impulse, he followed, and
overtook him just as he was entering a room. Lueian,
finding that some one was resisting his attempt to close
the door, looked out ; recognized Cashel -, turned white ;
and hastily retreated into the apartment, where, getting
behind a writing-table, he snatched a revolver from a
drawer. Cashel recoiled, amazed and frightened, with
his right arm up as if to ward ofFa blow.

" Hallo ! " he cried. " Drop that damned thing, will
you ! If you dont, I'll shout for help."

"If you approach me, I will fire," said Lueian excitedly.
" I will teach you that your obsolete brutality is power-
less against the weapons Science has put into the hands of
civilized men. Leave my apartments. I am not afraid
of you j but I do not choose to be disturbed by your
presence."

" Confound your cheek," said Cashel indignantly : " is
that the way you receive a man who comes to make a
friendly call on you ? "

"Friendly now, doubtless, when you see that I am
well protected."

Cashel gave a long whistle. "Oh," he said: "you
thought I came to pitch into you. Ha ! ha ! And you
call that science — to draw a pistol on a man ! But you
darent fire it ; and well you know it. Youd better put
it up, or you may let it off without intending to : I never
feel comfortable when I see a fool meddling with fire-
arms. I came to tell you that I'm going to be married
to your cousin. Aint you glad ? "

Lucian's face changed. He believed ; but he said
obstinately, "I dont credit that statement. It is a
lie."

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 259

This outraged Cashel. " I tell you again," he said, in
a menacing tone, "that your cousin is engaged to me.
Now call me a liar, and hit me in the face if you dare.
Look here," he added, taking a leather case from his
pocket, and extracting from it a bank note : " I'll give
you that twenty-pound note if you will hit me one blow."
And he put his hands behind him, and placed himself
before Lucian, who, sick with fury, and half paralyzed by
a sensation which he would not acknowledge as fear,
forced himself to stand his ground. Cashel thrust out
his jaw invitingly, and said, with a sinister grin, " Put it
in straight, governor. Twenty pounds, remember."

At that moment Lucian would have given all his
political and social chances for the strength and skill of
his adversary. He could see only one way to escape the
torment of CashePs jeering, and the self-reproach of a
coward ; for his point of honor, learnt at an English
public school, was essentially the same as the prize-
fighter's. He desperately clenched his fist and struck
out. The blow wasted itself on space ; and he stumbled
forward against Cashel, who laughed uproariously, and
exclaimed, clapping him on the back,

" Well done, my boy. I thought you were going to
be mean ; but youve been game ; and youre welcome
to the stakes. I'll tell Lydia that you have fought me
for twenty pounds and won on your merits. Aint you
proud of yourself for having had a go at the champion ? "

"Sir " began Lucian. But nothing coherent

followed.

" You just sit down for quarter of an hour, and dont
drink any spirits ; and youll be all right. When you
recover youll be glad you shewed pluck. So good-night
for the present : I know how you feel ; and I'll be off.
Be sure not to try to settle yourself with wine : itll only
make you worse. Ta-ta ! "

260 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xiv

As Cashel withdrew, Lucian collapsed into a chair,
shaken by the revival of passions and jealousies which he
had thought as outgrown as the schoolboy jackets in
which he had formerly experienced them. He rehearsed
the scene a hundred times, not as it had happened,
though the recollection of that stung him every moment,
but as it might have happened had he, instead of Cashel,
been the stronger man. He strove in vain to get on
the lower plane, and plume himself on his pluck in
having at least dared to strike. There was no escape
from his inner knowledge that he had been driven by
fear and hatred into a paroxysm of wrath against a man
to whom he should have set an example of dignified
control. An exhausting whirl in his thoughts, at once
quickened and confused by the nervous shock of bodily
violence, to which he was quite unused, distracted him.
He wanted sympathy, refuge, an opportunity to retrieve
himself by doing it all over again the right way. Before
an hour had passed he was on his way to the house in
Regent's Park.

Lydia was in her boudoir, occupied with a book, when
he entered. He was not an acute observer : he could
see no change in her. She was as calm as ever : her
eyes were not fully open j and the touch of her hand
subdued him as it had always done. Though he had
never entertained any hope of possessing her since the
day when she had refused him in Bedford Square, a sense
of intolerable loss came upon him as he saw her for the
first time pledged to another — and such another !

"Lydia," he said, trying to speak vehemently, but
failing to shake off the conventional address of which
he had made a second nature : " I have heard something
that has filled me with inexpressible dismay. Is it
true ? "

" The news has travelled fast," she said. " Yes, it is

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 261

true." She spoke composedly, and so kindly that he
choked in trying to reply.

"Then, Lydia, you are the chief actor in a greater
tragedy than I have ever witnessed on the stage."

" It is strange, is it not ? " she said, smiling at his
effort to be impressive.

" Strange ! It is calamitous. I trust I may be
allowed to say so. And you sit there reading as calmly
as though nothing had happened."

She handed him the book without a word.

" Ivanhoe ! " he said. " A novel ! "

" Yes. Do you remember once, before you knew me
very well, telling me that Scott's novels were the only
ones you liked to see in the hands of ladies ? "

" No doubt I did. But I cannot talk of literature
just "

" I am not leading you away from what you want to
talk of. I was about to tell you that I came upon
Ivanhoe by chance half an hour ago when I was
searching — I confess it — for something very romantic
to read. Ivanhoe was a prizefighter : the first half
of the book is a description of a prizefight. I was
wondering whether some romancer of the twenty-fourth
century will hunt out the exploits of my husband, and
present him to the world as a sort of English nineteenth
century Cid, with all the glory of antiquity upon his
deeds."

Lucian made a gesture of impatience. " I have never
been able to understand," he said, "how it is that a
woman of your ability can habitually dwell on perverse
and absurd ideas. Oh, Lydia, is this to be the end of
all your great gifts and attainments ? Forgive me if I
touch a painful chord ; but this marriage seems to me
so unnatural that I must speak out. Your father left
you one of the richest and best- educated women in

262 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIV

Europe. Would he approve of what you are about to
do ? "

" It almost seems to me that he educated me expressly
to some such end. Whom would you have me marry ? "

" Doubtless few men are worthy of you, Lydia. But
this man least of all. Could you not marry a gentleman ?
If he were even an artist, a poet, or a man of genius of
any kind, I could bear to think of it ; for indeed I am
not influenced by class prejudice in the matter. But

a 1 will try to say nothing that you must not in

justice admit to be too obvious to be ignored — a man of
the lower orders, pursuing a calling which even the
lower orders despise ; illiterate, rough, awaiting at this
moment a disgraceful sentence at the hands of the
law ! Is it possible that you have considered all these
things ? "

" Not very deeply : they are not of a kind to concern
me much. I can console you as to one of them. I
have always recognized Cashel as a gentleman, in your
sense of the word. He proves to be so : his people are
county people and so forth. As to his trial, I have
spoken with Lord Worthington about it, and also with
the lawyers who have charge of the case ; and they say
positively that, owing to certain proofs not being in the
hands of the police, a defence can be set up that will save
him from imprisonment."

" There is no such defence possible," said Lucian,
angrily.

" Perhaps not. As far as I understand it, it is rather
an aggravation of the offence than an excuse for it. But
if they imprison him, it will make no difference. He
can console himself with the certainty that I will marry
him at once when he is released."

Lucian's face lengthened. He abandoned the argument,
and said blankly, " I cannot suppose that you would allow

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 263

yourself to be deceived. If he is a gentleman, that of
course alters the case completely."

c< Lucian," said Lydia earnestly : " will you believe
that it actually altered the case with me ? There is, I
know, a plane upon which his past pursuits are wrong ;
but we are not upon that plane any more than he. The
discovery of his rank does not alter the weight of one
blow he has ever struck ; and yet you have just now
admitted that it alters the case completely. It was not
prizefighting that you objected to : that was only a
pretence : your true repugnance was to the class to which
prizefighters belong. And so, worldly cousin Lucian, I
silence all your objections by convincing you that I am
not going to connect you by marriage with a butcher,
bricklayer, or other member of the trades from which
Cashel's profession, as you warned me, is usually recruited.
Stop a moment : I am going to do justice to you. You
want to say that my unworldly friend Lucian is far more
deeply concerned at seeing the phoenix of modern culture
throw herself away on a man unworthy of her."

" That is what I mean to say, except that you put it
too modestly. It is a case of the phoenix, not only of
modern culture, but of natural endowment and of every
happy accident of the highest civilization, throwing her-
self away on a man specially incapacitated by his tastes
and pursuits from comprehending her or entering the
circle in which she moves."

" Listen to me patiently, Lucian ; and I will try to
explain the mystery to you, leaving the rest of the world
to misunderstand me as it pleases. First, you will grant
me that even a phoenix must marry some one in order
that she may hand on her torch to her children. Her
best course would be to marry another phoenix ; but as
she — poor girl ! — cannot appreciate even her own
phoenixity, much less that of another, she perversely

264 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIV

prefers a mere mortal. Who is the mortal to be ? Not
her cousin Lucian ; for rising young politicians must
have helpful wives, with feminine politics and powers
of visiting and entertaining : a description inapplicable to
the phoenix. Not, as you just now suggested, a man of
letters. The phoenix has had her share of playing help-
meet to a man of letters, and does not care to repeat
that experience. She is sick to death of the morbid
introspection and ignorant self- consciousness of poets,
novelists, and their like. As to artists, all the good ones
are married ; and ever since the rest have been able to
read in hundreds of books that they are the most gifted
and godlike of men, they are become almost as intolerable
as their literary flatterers. No, Lucian : the phoenix
has paid her debt to literature and art by the toil of her
childhood. She will use and enjoy both of them in
future as best she can ; but she will never again drudge
in their laboratories. You say that she might at least
have married some one with the habits of a gentleman,
But the gentlemen she knows are either amateurs of the
arts, having the egotism of professional artists without
their ability ; or they are men of pleasure, which means
that they are dancers, tennis players, butchers, and
gamblers. I leave the nonentities out of the question.
In the eyes of a phoenix, even the arena — the ring, as
they call it — is a better school of character than the
drawing-room ; and a prizefighter is a hero in com-
parison with the wretch who sets a leash of greyhounds
upon a hare. Imagine, now, this poor phoenix meeting
with a man who had never been guilty of self-analysis in
his life — who complained when he was annoyed, and
exulted when he was glad, like a child and unlike a
modern man — who was honest and brave, strong and
beautiful. You open your eyes, Lucian : you do not do
justice to CashePs good looks. He is twenty-five j and

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 265

yet there is not a line in his face. It is neither thought-
ful, nor poetic, nor wearied, nor doubting, nor old, nor
self-conscious, as so many of his contemporaries' faces
are — as mine, perhaps, is. The face of a pagan god,
assured of eternal youth ! I should be mad, since I must
marry, to miss such a man."

" You are mad as it is," cried Lucian rising, scared
and vehement. " This is infatuation. You no more see
the real man as I see him than "

"Than you can see me as I appear to those who
dislike me, Lucian. How do you know that what you
see is the real man ? "

" I see him as every one sees him except you. That
shews that you are infatuated. You know — you must
know — that you have lost your senses on this subject."

"I have given you reasons, Lucian. I am open to
argument."

" Argument ! Reasons ! Do you think that your
folly is any the less folly because you have reasons for it ?
Rational folly is the worst of all folly, because it is armed
against reason."

Lydia opened her eyes fully for the first time during
the conversation. " Lucian," she said, delightedly :
"you are coming out. 1 think that is the cleverest
thing I ever heard you say. And it is true — frightfully
true."

He sat down despairingly. " You would not admit it
so readily," he said, "if you intended it to have the
smallest effect on you. Even if all your arguments were
good ones, what would they prove ? If you really
despise the pursuits of gentlemen, is that a reason for
respecting the pursuits of prizefighters ? Is the ring
any the better because you can pretend to think the
drawing-room worse ? — for you do not really hold any
such monstrous opinion. How you would scout your

266 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xiv

own sophistry if I used it in trying to persuade you to
conform to social usuages ! "

"We are drifting back again into mere rationalism,
Lucian. However, it is my fault. I began an explana-
tion, and rambled off, womanlike, into praise of my lover.
Do not think that I wish to represent my choice as
any better than a choice of the least of two evils. I
strongly think that Society ought to have made some-
thing better of Cashel than a prizefighter ; but he, poor
fellow, had no choice at all. I once called him a ruffian ;
and I do not retract the word ; though I expect you to
forgive him his ruffianism as you forgive a soldier his
murders, or a lawyer his lies. When you condemn the
others — and with all my heart I say the sooner the
better — condemn him, but not before. Besides, my
dear Lucian, the prizefighting is all over : he does not
intend to go on with it. As to our personal suitability,
I believe in the doctrine of heredity ; and as my body
is frail and my brain morbidly active, I think my impulse
towards a man strong in body and untroubled in mind a
trustworthy one. You can understand that : it is a
plain proposition in eugenics."

" I know that you will do whatever you have made up
your mind to do," said Lucian desolately.

cc And you will make the best of it, will you not ? "

" The best or worst of it does not rest with me. I
can only accept it as inevitable."

" Not at all. You can make the worst of it by
behaving distantly to Cashel ; or the best of it by being
friendly with him."

" I had better tell you," he said. " I have seen him

since — since " Lydia nodded. " I mistook his object

in coming into my room as he did, unannounced. In
fact, he almost forced his way in. Some words arose
between us. At last he taunted me beyond endurance,

Chap. XIV Cashel Byron's Profession 267

and offered me — characteristically — ^20 to strike him.
And I am sorry to say that I did so."

" You did so ! " said Lydia, turning very pale. " And
what followed ? "

" I should say rather that I meant to strike him ; for
he avoided me, or else I missed my aim. He only gave
me the money and went away, evidently with a high
opinion of me. He left me with a very low one of
myself."

" What ! He did not retaliate ! " exclaimed Lydia,
recovering her color. " Oh, he has beaten you on your
own ground, Lucian. It is you who are the prizefighter
at heart ; and you grudge him his superiority in the very
art you condemn him for professing."

"I was wrong, Lydia, but I grudged him you. I
know I acted hastily ; and I will apologize to him. I
wish matters had fallen out otherwise."

" They could not have done so ; and I believe you
will yet acknowledge that they have arranged themselves
very well. Now that the phoenix is disposed of, I want
to read you a letter I have received from Alice Goff,
which throws quite a new light on her character. I have
not seen her since June ; and her mind seems to have
grown three years in the interim. Listen to this, for
example."

And so the conversation turned upon Alice.

When Lucian returned to his chambers, he wrote the
following note, which he posted to Cashel Byron before
going to bed.

Dear Sir,

I beg to enclose you a bank note which you left here
this evening. I feel bound to express my regret for what
passed on that occasion^ and to assure you that it proceeded
from a misapprehension of your purpose in calling on me.

268 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XIV

The nervous disorder into which the severe mental applica-
tion and late hours of the past session have thrown me must
be my excuse. I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you
again soon^ and offering you personally my congratulations on
your approaching marriage.

dear Sir,
Tours very truly^

Luclan Webber.

CHAPTER XV

IN the following month Cashel Byron, William Paradise,
and Robert Mellish appeared in the dock together, the
first two for having been principals in a prizefight, and
Mellish for having acted as bottleholder to Paradise.
These offences were verbosely described in a long indict-
ment which was to have included the fourth man
captured. But against him the grand jury had refused
to find a true bill. The prisoners pleaded not guilty.

The defence was that the fight, the occurrence of
which was admitted, was not a prizefight, but the
outcome of an enmity which had subsisted between the
two men since one of them, at a public exhibition at
Islington, had attacked and bitten the other. In support
of this, it was shewn that Byron had occupied a house at
Wiltstoken, and had lived there with Mellish, who had
invited Paradise to spend a holiday with him in the
country. This accounted for the presence of the three
men at Wiltstoken on the day in question. Words had
arisen between Byron and Paradise on the subject of the
Islington affair ; and they had at last agreed to settle
the dispute in the old English fashion. They had
adjourned to a field, and fought fairly and determinedly
until interrupted by the police, who, misled by appear-
ances, mistook the affair for a prizefight.

Prizefighting, Cashel Byron's counsel said, was a

270 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap, xv

brutal pastime, rightly discountenanced by the law ; but
a fair stand-up fight between two unarmed men, though
doubtless technically a breach of the peace, had never
been severely dealt with by British juries or British judges,
who knew how much it was to our national and manly
tolerance of the fist, Nature's weapon, that we owed our
freedom from the murderous stiletto of the Italian, the
revolver of the cowboy, and the treacherous kick of the
French savate player (Mellish, whose favorite spectacle
was Devonshire and Lancashire wrestling, murmured in
patriotic assent). The case would be amply met by
binding over the prisoners, who were now on the best of
terms with one another, to keep the peace for a reason-
able period. The sole evidence against this view of the
case was police evidence ; and the police were naturally
reluctant to admit that they had found a mare's nest.
In proof that the fight had been premeditated, and was a
prizefight, they alleged that it had taken place within an
enclosure formed with ropes and stakes. But where
were those ropes and stakes ? They were not forth-
coming ; and he (counsel) submitted that the reason was
not, as had been suggested, that they had been spirited
away, which was plainly impossible ; but that they had
existed only in the excited imagination of the posse of
constables who had arrested the prisoners.

Again, it had been urged that the prisoners were in
fighting costume. But cross-examination had elicited
that fighting costume meant practically no costume at all :
the men had simply stripped in order that their movements
might be unembarrassed. It had been proved that Para-
dise had been — well, in the traditional costume of Paradise
(Roars of laughter : Paradise grinning in confusion) until
the police borrowed a horsecloth to put upon him.

That the constables had been guilty of gross exaggera-
tion was shewn by their evidence as to the desperate

Chap. XV Cashel Byron's Profession 271

injuries the combatants had inflicted upon one another.
Of Paradise in particular it had been alleged that his
features were obliterated. The jury had before them in
the dock the man whose features had been obliterated
only a few weeks previously. If that 'were true, where
had the prisoner obtained the unblemished lineaments
which he was now, full of health and good humor,
presenting to them? (Renewed laughter. Paradise
suffused with blushes.) It was said that these terrible
injuries, the traces of which had disappeared so miracu-
lously, were inflicted by the prisoner Byron, a young
gentleman tenderly nurtured, and visibly inferior in
strength and hardihood to his herculean opponent.
Doubtless Byron had been emboldened by his skill in
mimic combat with softly padded gloves to try conclu-
sions, under the very different conditions of real fighting,
with a man whose massive shoulders and determined cast
of features ought to have convinced him that such an
enterprise was nothing short of desperate. Fortunately
the police had interfered before he had suffered severely
for his rashness. Yet it had been alleged that he had
actually worsted Paradise in the encounter — obliterated
his features ! That was a fair sample of the police
evidence, which was throughout consistently incredible
and at variance with the dictates of common sense.

It was unnecessary to waste the time of the jury by
comment on the honorable manner in which Byron had
come forward and given himself up to the police the
moment he learnt that they were in search of him.
Such conduct spoke for itself. Paradise would, beyond a
doubt, have adopted the same straightforward course had
he not been arrested at once, and that too without the
least effort at resistance on his part. Surely this was
hardly the line that would have suggested itself to two
lawless prizefighters.

272 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XV

An attempt had been made to prejudice the prisoner
Byron by the statement that he was a notorious pro-
fessional bruiser. But no proof of that was forthcoming ;
and if the fact were really notorious there could be no
difficulty in proving it. Such notoriety as Mr. Byron
enjoyed was due, as his friend Lord Worthington had let
slip in the course of examination, to his approaching
marriage with a lady of distinction. Was it credible
that a highly connected gentleman in this enviable
position would engage in a prizefight, risking disgrace
and personal disfigurement for a sum of money that could
be no object to him, or for a glory that would appear to
all his friends as little better than infamy ?

The whole of the evidence as to the character of the
prisoners went to shew that they were men of unim-
peachable integrity and respectability. An impression
unfavorable to Paradise might have been created by the
fact that he was a professional pugilist and a man of hasty
temper ; but it had also transpired that he had on one
occasion rendered assistance to the police, thereby em-
ploying his athletic attainments in the interests of law
and order. As to his temper, it accounted for the
quarrel which the police — knowing his profession — had
mistaken for a prizefight.

Mellish was a trainer of athletes : hence the witnesses
to his character were chiefly persons connected with
sport ; but they were not the less worthy of credence on
that account.

In fine, the charge would have been hard to believe
even if supported by the strongest evidence. But when
there was no evidence — when the police had failed to
produce any of the accessories of a prizefight — when
there were no ropes nor posts, no written articles, no
stakes nor stakeholders, no seconds except the unfor-
tunate man Mellish — whose mouth was closed by a law

Chap. XV Cashel Byron's Profession 273

which, in defiance of the obvious interests of justice,
forbade a prisoner to speak and clear himself — nothing,
in fact, but the fancies of constables who had, under
cross-examination, not only contradicted one another,
but shewn the most complete ignorance (a highly credit-
able ignorance) of the nature and conditions of a prize-
fight, then counsel would venture to say confidently that
the theory of the prosecution, ingenious as it was, and
ably as it had been put forward, was absolutely and utterly
untenable.

This, and much more of equal value, was delivered
with relish by an eminent Queen's counsellor, whose
spirits rose as he felt the truth change and fade whilst
he rearranged its attendant circumstances. Cashel at
first listened anxiously. He flushed and looked moody
when his marriage was alluded to ; but when the whole
defence was unrolled, he was awestruck, and stared at
his advocate as if he half feared that the earth would
gape and swallow such a reckless perverter of known
facts. Paradise felt that he was free already : his
admiration for the barrister rose to the point of hero-
worship. The Judge, and the more respectable persons
in court, became extraordinarily grave, as Englishmen
will when their sense of moral responsibility is roused on
behalf of some glaring imposture. Every one in court
knew that the police were right ; that there had been a
prizefight ; that the betting on it had been recorded in
all the sporting papers for weeks beforehand ; that Cashel
was the most terrible fighting man of the day; that
Paradise had not dared to propose a renewal of the inter-
rupted contest. And they listened with solemn appro-
bation to the man who knew all this as well as they did,
but who was clever enough to make it appear incredible
and nonsensical.

It remained for the Judge to sweep away the defence,

274 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XV

or to favor the prisoners by countenancing it. Fortu-
nately for them, he had handled the gloves himself in his
youth, and was old enough to recall, not without regret, a
time when the memory of Cribb and Molyneux was yet
green. He began his summing-up by telling the jury
that the police had failed to prove that the fight was a
prizefight. After that, the sporting spectators, by in-
dulging in roars of laughter whenever they could find a
pretext for doing so without being turned out of court,
shewed that they had ceased to regard the trial seriously.
The lay public retained its gravity to the last.

Finally the jury acquitted Mellish, and found Cashel
and Paradise guilty of a common assault. They were
sentenced to two days imprisonment, and bound over in
sureties of ^150 each to keep the peace for twelve
months. The sureties were forthcoming ; and as the
imprisonment was supposed to date from the beginning
of the sessions, the prisoners were at once released.

" By Jingo," said Cashel emphatically as he left the
court, "if we didnt fight fairer than that in the ring,
we'd be disqualified in the first round. It's the first
cross I ever was mixed up in ; and I hope it will be the
last."

CHAPTER XVI

Miss CAREW, averse to the anomalous relations of court-
ship, made as little delay as possible in getting married.
CashePs luck was not changed by the event. Bingley
Byron died three weeks after the ceremony (which was
civil and private) ; and Cashel had to claim possession of
the property, in spite of his expressed wish that the
lawyers would take themselves and the property to the
devil, and allow him to enjoy his honeymoon in peace.
The transfer took some time. Owing to his mother's
capricious reluctance to give the necessary information
without reserve, and to the law's delay, his first child was
born some time before his succession was fully established,
and the doors of a dilapidated country house in Dorset-
shire opened to him. The conclusion of the business
was a great relief to his solicitors, who had been unable
to shake his conviction that the case was clear enough,
but that the referee had been squared. By this he
meant that the Lord Chancellor had been bribed to keep
him out of his property.

His marriage proved a happy one. To make up for
the loss of his occupation, he farmed, and lost six
thousand pounds by it ; tried gardening with better
success ; began to meddle in commercial enterprise as
director of joint-stock companies in the city ; and was
soon after invited to represent a Dorsetshire constituency

276 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XVI

in Parliament in the Conservative interest. He was
returned by a large majority ; but as he voted just as
often with the extreme Radicals as with the party which
had returned him, he was speedily called upon to resign.
He flatly refused, and held on until the next general
election, which he carried as an independent candidate,
thanks to a loud voice, an easy manner, the popularity
of his own views, and the extent of his wife's informa-
tion, which he retailed at second-hand. He made his
maiden speech in the House unabashed the first night he
sat there. Indeed, he was afraid of nothing except
burglars, big dogs, doctors, dentists, and street-crossings.
Whenever an accident through any of these was reported,
he read it to Lydia very seriously, and preserved the
newspaper for quite two days as a document in support
of his favorite assertion that the only place a man was
safe in was the prize-ring. As he objected to most
field sports on the ground of inhumanity, she, fearing
that he would suffer in health and appearance from want
of systematic exercise, suggested that he should resume
the practice of boxing with gloves. But he shook his
head. Boxing was too serious a pursuit to him to be
either an amusement or a mere exercise. Besides, he
had a prejudice that it did not become a married man.
He had gone through with it when it was his business ;
but he had no idea of doing it for pleasure. His career
as a pugilist was closed by his marriage.

His admiration for his wife survived the ardor of his
first love for her ; and her habitual forethought saved
her from disappointing his reliance on her judgment.
Her children, so carefully planned by her to inherit her
intelligence with their father's robustness, proved to her
that heredity is not so simple a matter as her father's
generation supposed. They were healthy enough, cer-
tainly ; and in their childhood they were all alike in

Chap. XVI Cashel Byron's Profession 277

being precocious and impudent, having no respect for
Cashel, and shewing any they had for their mother prin-
cipally by running to her when they were in difficulties.
Of punishments and scoldings they had no experience.
Cashel was incapable of deliberate retaliation upon a
child ; and in sudden emergencies of temper he could
always master his hands : perhaps because he had learnt
to do so in the ring : perhaps because he remembered his
own childhood. Lydia controlled her children, as far as
they were controllable, just as she controlled every one
else. When she spoke of them to Cashel in private, he
seldom said more than that the imps were too sharp for
him, or that he was blest if he didnt believe they were
born older than their father. Lydia often thought so
too ; but the care of this troublesome family had one
advantage for her. It left her little time to think about
herself at the time when the illusion of her love passed
away, and she saw Cashel as he really was. She soon
came to regard him as one of the children. He was by
far the stupidest of them ; but he needed her more,
loved her more, and belonged to her more than any of
them. For as they grew up, and the heredity scheme
began to develop results, the boys disappointed her by
turning out almost pure Carew, without the slightest
athletic aptitude, whilst the girls were impetuously
Byronic : indeed one of them, to Cashel's utter dismay,
cast back so completely to his mother that when she
announced, at thirteen, her intention of going on the
stage, he bowed to her decision as to the voice of Destiny.
Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia's projected
marriage, saw that she must return to Wiltstoken and
forget her brief social splendor as soon as possible. She
therefore thanked Miss Carew for her bounty, and begged
to relinquish her post of companion. Lydia assented,
but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty and

278 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap. XVI

necessity until a day early in winter, when Lucian, who
felt inclined to commit suicide, allowed his cousin to
persuade him to offer his hand to Alice. She indignantly
refused : not that she had any reason to complain of him,
but because the prospect of returning to Wiltstoken
made her feel ill-used, and she could not help revenging
her soreness upon the first person she could find a pre-
text for attacking. He, lukewarm before, now became
eager ; and she, after trampling on him to her heart's
content for months, drifted into an engagement, and was
promptly married to him by Lydia, who took the matter
in hand with her usual decision. She kept Lucian's
house, entertained his guests, and domineered over his
select social circle with complete success. She was some-
thing of a domestic bully; but her empire over her husband
and home was never shaken. Lucian found unexpected
depth and strength in her nature ; and his uxoriousness
was only held in check by the fierce impatience with
which she sometimes made him feel that the excess of
his content was measured by the shortcoming of hers.
She invited her brother-in-law and his wife to dinner every
Christmas day, and once a year in the season ; but she
never admitted that Wallace Parker and Cashel Byron
were gentlemen, though she invited the latter freely,
notwithstanding the frankness with which he spoke of
his former exploits to strangers after dinner, without
deference to their professions or prejudices. Her respect
for Lydia remained so great that she never complained
of Cashel save on one occasion, when, at a very special
dinner party in her house, he shewed a bishop, whose
mansion had been recently broken into and robbed, how
to break a burglar's back in the act of grappling with
him.

The Skehes returned to Australia and went their way
there, as Mrs. Byron did in England, in the paths they

Chap, xvi Cashel Byron's Profession 279

had pursued for years before. Cashel spoke always of
Mrs. Skene as "mother," and of Mrs. Byron as
" mamma."

William Paradise, though admired by the fair sex for
his strength, courage and fame, was not, like Cashel and
Skene, wise or fortunate enough to get a good wife. So
exceedingly did he drink that he had but few sober
intervals after his escape from the law. He claimed the
title of champion of England on Cashel's retirement from
the ring, and challenged the world. The world responded
in the persons of sundry young laboring men with a
thirst for glory and a taste for fighting. Paradise fought
and prevailed twice. Then he drank whilst in training,
and was beaten. By this time, too, the ring had lapsed
into the disrepute from which CashePs unusual combina-
tion of pugilistic genius with honesty had temporarily
raised it ; and the law, again seizing Paradise as he was
borne vanquished from the field, atoned for its former
leniency by incarcerating him for six months. The
abstinence thus enforced restored him to health and
vigor ; and he achieved another victory before he
succeeded in drinking himself into his former state.
This was his last triumph. With his natural ruffianism
complicated by drunkenness, he went rapidly down the
hill into the Valley of Humiliation. Becoming noted for
his readiness to sell the victories he could no longer win,
he only appeared in the ring to test the capabilities of
untried youths, who beat him with all the ardor of their
age. He became a potman, and was immediately dis-
charged as an inebriate. He had sunk into beggary
when, hearing in his misery that his former antagonist
was contesting a parliamentary election, he applied to
him for alms. Cashel at the time was in Dorsetshire ;
but Lydia relieved the destitute bruiser, whose condition
was now far worse than it had been at their last meeting.

280 Cashel Byron's Profession Chap.xvi

At his next application, which followed soon, he was
confronted by Cashel, who bullied him fiercely ;
threatened to break every bone in his skin if he ever
dared present himself again before Lydia ; flung him five
shillings ; and bade him begone. For Cashel retained
for Paradise that contemptuous and ruthless hatred in
which a duly qualified professor holds a quack. The
poor wretch, inured to insult and violence from men who
had once feared his prowess as he, to give him such
credit as he cared for, had never feared CashePs, thought
the abuse natural, and the gift generous. He picked up
the money and shambled ofF to buy a few pence-worth
of food, which he could hardly eat ; and to spend the
rest in brandy, which he drank as fast as his stomach
would endure it. Shortly afterwards, a few newspapers
reported his death, which they attributed to "con-
sumption, brought on by the terrible injuries sustained
by him in his celebrated fight with Cashel Byron."

THE END

THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE

" Over Bashville the footman I howled with derision
and delight. I dote on Bashville : I could read of him
for ever : de Bashville je suh le fervent : there is only
one Bashville j and I am his devoted slave : Bashville
est magnifique ; mais il n'est guere possible."

ROBERT Louis STEVENSON.

The Admirable Bashville;
:>r,ConstancyUnrewarded:
Deing the Novel of Cashel
Byron's Profession done
nto a Stage Play in Three
(\cts and in Blank Verse. By
Bernard Shaw.

u Steal not this book for fear of shame."

\rchibald Constable & Co.
Ltd. London: 1 905.

This play has been publicly performed "within the United Kingdom. It is
entered at Stationers' Hall and The Library of Congress, U.

All rights reserved.

PREFACE

THE Admirable Bashville is a product of the British law
of copyright. As that law stands at present, the first
person who patches up a stage version of a novel, how-
ever worthless and absurd that version may be, and has it
read by himself and a few confederates to another con-
federate who has paid for admission in a hall licensed for
theatrical performances, secures the stage rights of that
novel, even as against the author himself ; and the author
must buy him out before he can touch his own work for
the purposes of the stage.

A famous case in point is the drama of East Lynne,
adapted from the late Mrs Henry Wood's novel of that
name. It was enormously popular, and is still the surest
refuge of touring companies in distress. Many authors
feel that Mrs Henry Wood was hardly used in not
getting any of the money which was plentifully made in
this way through her story. To my mind, since her
literary copyright probably brought her a fair wage for
the work of writing the book, her real grievance was,
first, that her name and credit were attached to a play
with which she had nothing to do, and which may quite
possibly have been to her a detestable travesty and pro-
fanation of her story ; and second, that the authors of

286 The Admirable Bashville

that play had the legal power to prevent her from having
any version of her own performed, if she had wished to
make one.

There is only one way in which the author can protect
himself; and that is by making a version of his own and
going through the same legal farce with it. But the
legal farce involves the hire of a hall and the payment
of a fee of two guineas to the King's Reader of Plays.
When I wrote Cashel Byron's Profession I had no
guineas to spare, a common disability of young authors.
What is equally common, I did not know the law. A
reasonable man may guess a reasonable law ; but no man
can guess a foolish anomaly. Fortunately, by the time
my book so suddenly revived in America, I was aware
of the danger, and in a position to protect myself by
writing and performing The Admirable Bashville. The
prudence of doing so was soon demonstrated \ for rumors
soon reached me of several American stage versions ; and
one of these has actually been played in New York, with
the boxing scenes under the management (so it is stated)
of the eminent pugilist Mr James Corbett. The New
York press, in a somewhat derisive vein, conveyed the
impression that in this version Cashel Byron sought to
interest the public rather as the last of the noble race of
the Byrons of Dorsetshire than as his unromantic self;
but in justice to a play which I never read, and an
actor whom I never saw, and who honorably offered
to treat me as if I had legal rights in the matter, I must
not accept the newspaper evidence as conclusive.

As I write these words, I am promised by the King
in his speech to Parliament a new Copyright Bill. I
believe it embodies, in our British fashion, the recom-
mendations of the book publishers as to the concerns of
the authors, and the notions of the musical publishers as
to the concerns of the playwrights. As author and play-

Preface 287

wright I am duly obliged to the Commission for saving
me the trouble of speaking for myself, and to the wit-
nesses for speaking for me. But unless Parliament takes
the opportunity of giving the authors of all printed
works of fiction, whether dramatic or narrative, both
playright and copyright (as in America), such to be
independent of any insertions or omissions of formulas
about " all rights reserved " or the like, I am afraid the
new Copyright Bill will leave me with exactly the
opinion both of the copyright law and the wisdom
of Parliament I at present entertain. As a good Socialist
I do not at all object to the limitation of my right of
property in my own works to a comparatively brief period,
followed by complete Communism : in fact, I cannot see
why the same salutary limitation should not be applied to
all property rights whatsoever j but a system which enables
any alert sharper to acquire property rights in my stories
as against myself and the rest of the community would, it
seems to me, justify a rebellion if authors were numerous
and warlike enough to make one.

It may be asked why I have written The Admirable
Bashville in blank verse. My answer is that I had but
a week to write it in. Blank verse is so childishly
easy and expeditious (hence, by the way, Shakespear's
copious output), that by adopting it I was enabled to do
within the week what would have cost me a month
in prose.

Besides, I am fond of blank verse. Not nineteenth
century blank verse, of course, nor indeed, with a very
few exceptions, any post - Shakespearean blank verse.
Nay, not Shakespearean blank verse itself later than the
histories. When an author can write the prose dialogue
of the first scene in As You Like It, or Hamlet's
colloquies with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, there is
really no excuse for The Seven Ages and " To be or

288 The Admirable Bashville

not to be," except the excuse of a haste that made great
facility indispensable. I am quite sure that any one who
is to recover the charm of blank verse must frankly go
back to its beginnings and start a literary pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood. I like the melodious sing-song, the clear
simple one-line and two-line sayings, and the occasional
rhymed tags, like the half closes in an eighteenth
century symphony, in Peele, Kyd, Greene, and the
histories of Shakes pear. How any one with music in
him can turn from Henry VI., John, and the two
Richards to such a mess of verse half developed into
rhetorical prose as Cymbeline, is to me explicable only
by the uncivil hypothesis that the artistic qualities in
the Elizabethan drama do not exist for most of its critics ;
so that they hang on to its purely prosaic content, and
hypnotize themselves into absurd exaggerations of the
value of that content. Even poets fall under the spell.
Ben Jonson described Marlowe's line as "mighty" ! As
well put Michael Angelo's epitaph on the tombstone of
Paolo Uccello. No wonder Jonson's blank verse is the
most horribly disagreeable product in literature, and in-
dicates his most prosaic mood as surely as his shorter
rhymed measures indicate his poetic mood. Marlowe
never wrote a mighty line in his life : Cowper's single
phrase u Toll for the brave " drowns all his mightinesses
as Great Tom drowns a military band. But Marlowe
took that very pleasant-sounding rigmarole of Peele and
Greene, and added to its sunny daylight the insane
splendors of night, and the cheap tragedy of crime.
Because he had only a common sort of brain, he was
hopelessly beaten by Shakespear ; but he had a fine ear and
a soaring spirit : in short, one does not forget " wanton
Arethusa's azure arms " and the like. But the pleasant-
sounding rigmarole was the basis of the whole thing ;
and as long as that rigmarole was practised frankly for

Preface 289

the sake of its pleasantness, it was readable and speak-
able. It lasted until Shakespear did to it what Raphael
did to Italian painting: that is, overcharged and burst it
by making it the vehicle of a new order of thought, in-
volving a mass of intellectual ferment and psychological
research. The rigmarole could not stand the strain ;
and Shakespear's style ended in a chaos of half-shattered
old forms, half-emancipated new ones, with occasional
bursts of prose eloquence on the one hand, occasional
delicious echoes of the rigmarole, mostly from Calibans
and masque personages, on the other, with, alas ! a great
deal of filling up with formulary blank verse which
had no purpose except to save the author's time and
thought.

When a great man destroys an art form in this way,
its ruins make palaces for the clever would-be great.
After Michael Angelo and Raphael, Giulio Romano and
the Carracci. After Marlowe and Shakespear, Chapman
and the Police News poet Webster. Webster's speciality
was blood : Chapman's, balderdash. Many of us by this
time find it difficult to believe that pre-Ruskinite art
criticism used to prostrate itself before the works of
Domenichino and Guido, and to patronize the modest
little beginnings of those who came between Cimabue
and Masaccio. But we have only to look at our
own current criticism of Elizabethan drama to satisfy
ourselves that in an art which has not yet found its
Ruskin or its pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the same folly
is still academically propagated. It is possible, and even
usual, for men professing to have ears and a sense of poetry
to snub Peele and Greene and grovel before Fletcher and
Webster — Fletcher! a facile blank verse penny-a-liner:
Webster! a turgid paper cut- throat. The subject is
one which I really cannot pursue without intemperance
of language. The man who thinks The Duchess of

u

290 The Admirable Bashville

Malfi better than David and Bethsabe is outside the pale,
not merely of literature, but almost of humanity.

Yet some of the worst of these post-Shakespearean
duffers, from Jonson to Heywood, suddenly became poets
when they turned from the big drum of pseudo-Shak-
spearean drama to the pipe and tabor of the masque,
exactly as Shakespear himself recovered the old charm of
the rigmarole when he turned from Prospero to Ariel
and Caliban. Cyril Tourneur and Heywood could cer-
tainly have produced very pretty rigmarole plays if they
had begun where Shakespear began, instead of trying to
begin where he left off. Jonson and Beaumont would
very likely have done themselves credit on the same
terms : Marston would have had at least a chance. Mas-
singer was in his right place, such as it was j and one
can respect the gentle Shirley, who was never born to
storm the footlights. Webster could have done no good
anyhow or anywhere: the man was a fool, And Chap-
man would always have been a blathering unreadable
pedant, like Landor, in spite of his classical amateurship
and respectable strenuosity of character. But with these
exceptions it may plausibly be held that if Marlowe
and Shakespear could have been kept out of their way,
the rest would have done well enough on the lines of
Peele and Greene. However, they thought otherwise j
and now that their freethinking paganism, so dazzling to
the pupils of Paley and the converts of Wesley, offers
itself in vain to the disciples of Darwin and Nietzsche,
there is an end of them. And a good riddance, too.

Accordingly, I have poetasted The Admirable Bash-
ville in the rigmarole style. And lest the Webster
worshippers should declare that there is not a single
correct line in all my three acts, I have stolen or
paraphrased a few from Marlowe and Shakespear (not
to mention Henry Carey) ; so that if any man dares

Preface 291

quote me derisively, he shall do so in peril of inadvertently
lighting on a purple patch from Hamlet or Faustus.

I have also endeavored in this little play to prove that
I am not the heartless creature some of my critics take me
for. I have strictly observed the established laws of stage
popularity and probability. I have simplified the char-
acter of the heroine, and summed up her sweetness in
the one sacred word : Love. I have given consistency
to the heroism of Cashel. I have paid to Morality, in
the final scene, the tribute of poetic justice. I have
restored to Patriotism its usual place on the stage, and
gracefully acknowledged The Throne as the fountain of
social honor. I have paid particular attention to the
construction of the play, which will be found equal in
this respect to the best contemporary models.

And I trust the result will be found satisfactory.

THE ADMIRABLE BASHVILLE ; OR,
CONSTANCY UNREWARDED

ACT I

A glade in Wiltstoken Park
Enter LYDIA

LYDIA. Ye leafy breasts and warm protecting wings
Of mother trees that hatch our tender souls,
And from the well of Nature in our hearts
Thaw the intolerable inch of ice
That bears the weight of all the stamping world,
Hear ye me sing to solitude that I,
Lydia Carew, the owner of these lands,
Albeit most rich, most learned, and most wise,
Am yet most lonely. What are riches worth
When wisdom with them comes to show the purse

bearer

That life remains un purchasable ? Learning
Learns but one lesson : doubt ! To excel all
Is, to be lonely. Oh, ye busy birds,
Engrossed with real needs, ye shameless trees

294 The Admirable Bashville Act I

With arms outspread in welcome of the sun,
Your minds, bent singly to enlarge your lives,
Have given you wings and raised your delicate heads
High heavens above us crawlers.

[A rook sets up a great cawing, and the other birds
chatter loudly as a gust of wind sets the branches
swaying. She makes as though she would shew them
her sleeves.

Lo, the leaves

That hide my drooping boughs ! Mock me — poor maid ! —
Deride with joyous comfortable chatter
These stolen feathers. Laugh at me, the clothed

one.

Laugh at the mind fed on foul air and books.
Books ! Art ! And Culture ! Oh, I shall go mad.
Give me a mate that never heard of these,
A sylvan god, tree born in heart and sap ;
Or else, eternal maidhood be my hap.

[Another gust of wind and bird-chatter. She sits on the

mossy root of an oak and buries her face in her hands.

CASHEL BYRON, in a white singlet and breeches^ comes

through the trees.

CASHEL. Whats this ? Whom have we here ? A

woman !

LYDIA [looking up~] Yes.

CASHEL. You have no business here. I have. Away !
Women distract me. Hence !

LYDIA. Bid you me hence ?

I am upon mine own ground. Who are you ?
I take you for a god, a sylvan god.
This place is mine : I share it with the birds,
The trees, the sylvan gods, the lovely company
Of haunted solitudes.

CASHEL. A sylvan god !

A goat-eared image ! Do your statues speak ?

Act I or, Constancy Unrewarded 295

Walk ? heave the chest with breath ? or like a feather
Lift you — like this ? [He sets her on her feet.

LYDIA [panttng~\ You take away my breath !
Youre strong. Your hands off, please. Thank you.
Farewell.

CASHEL. Before you go : when shall we meet again ?

LYDIA. Why should we meet again ?

CASHEL. Who knows ? We shall.

That much I know by instinct. Whats your name ?

LYDIA. Lydia Carew.

CASHEL. Lydia's a pretty name.

Where do you live ?

LYDIA. r the castle.

CASHEL [thunderstruck'] Do not say

You are the lady of this great domain.

LYDIA. I am.

CASHEL. Accursed luck ! I took you for

The daughter of some farmer. Well, your pardon.
I came too close : I looked too deep. Farewell.

LYDIA. I pardon that. Now tell me who you are.

CASHEL. Ask me not whence I come, nor what

I am.

You are the lady of the castle. I
Have but this hard and blackened hand to live by.

LYDIA. I have felt its strength and envied you. Your

name ?
I have told you mine.

CASHEL. My name is Cashel Byron.

LYDIA. I never heard the name ; and yet you utter it
As men announce a celebrated name.
Forgive my ignorance.

CASHEL. I bless it, Lydia.

I have forgot your other name.

LYDIA, Carew.

Cashel's a pretty name too.

296 The Admirable Bashville Act I

MELLISH [calling through the wood] Coo-ee ! Byron !

CASHEL. A thousand curses ! Oh, I beg you, go.
This is a man you must not meet.

MELLISH {further off"] Coo-ee !

LYDIA. He's losing us. What does he in my woods ?

CASHEL. He is a part of what I am. What that is
You must not know. It would end all between us.
And yet there's no dishonor in't : your lawyer,
Who let your lodge to me, will vouch me honest.
I am ashamed to tell you what I am —
At least, as yet. Some day, perhaps.

MELLISH [nearer] Coo-ee !

LYDIA. His voice is nearer. Fare you well, my tenant.
When next your rent falls due, come to the castle.
Pay me in person. Sir : your most obedient.

[She curtsies and goes.

CASHEL. Lives in this castle ! Owns this park ! A

lady

Marry a prizefighter ! Impossible.
And yet the prizefighter must marry her.

Enter MELLISH

Ensanguined swine, whelped by a doggish dam,
Is this thy park, that thou, with voice obscene,
Fillst it with yodeled yells, and screamst my name
For all the world to know that Cashel Byron
Is training here for combat.

MELLISH. Swine you me ?

Ive caught you, have I ? You have found a woman.
Let her shew here again, I'll set the dog on her.
I will. I say it. And my name's Bob Mellish.

CASHEL. Change thy initial and be truly hight
Hellish. As for thy dog, why dost thou keep one
And bark thyself? Begone.

Act I or, Constancy Unrewarded 297

MELLISH. I'll not begone.

You shall come back with me and do your duty —
Your duty to your backers, do you hear ?
You have not punched the bag this blessed day.

CASHEL. The putrid bag engirdled by thy belt
Invites my fist.

MELLISH [weeping'] Ingrate ! O wretched lot !
Who would a trainer be ? O Mellish, Mellish,
Trainer of heroes, builder-up of brawn,
Vicarious victor, thou createst champions
That quickly turn thy tyrants. But beware :
Without me thou art nothing. Disobey me,
And all thy boasted strength shall fall from thee.
With flaccid muscles and with failing breath
Facing the fist of thy more faithful foe,
I'll see thee on the grass cursing the day
Thou didst forswear thy training.

CASHEL. Noisome quack

That canst not from thine own abhorrent visage
Take one carbuncle, thou contaminat'st
Even with thy presence my untainted blood.
Preach abstinence to rascals like thyself
Rotten with surfeiting. Leave me in peace.
This grove is sacred : thou profanest it.
Hence ! I have business that concerns thee not.

MELLISH. Ay, with your woman. You will lose your

fight.

Have you forgot your duty to your backers ?
Oh, what a sacred thing your duty is !
What makes a man but duty ? Where were we
Without our duty ? Think of Nelson's words :
England expects that every man—

CASHEL. Shall twaddle

About his duty. Mellish : at no hour
Can I regard thee wholly without loathing j

298 The Admirable Bashville Act 1

But when thou playst the moralist, by Heaven,

My soul flies to my fist, my fist to thee ;

And never did the Cyclops' hammer fall

On Mars's armor — but enough of that.

It does remind me of my mother.

MELLISH. Ah,

Byron, let it remind thee. Once I heard
An old song : it ran thus. [He clears his throat'] Ahem,
Ahem !
[Sings'] — They say there is no other

Can take the place of mother —
I am out o' voice : forgive me ; but remember :
Thy mother — were that sainted woman here —
Would say, Obey thy trainer.

CASHEL. Now, by Heaven,

Some fate is pushing thee upon thy doom.
Canst thou not hear thy sands as they run out ?
They thunder like an avalanche. Old man :
Two things I hate, my duty and my mother,
Why dost thou urge them both upon me now ?
Presume not on thine age and on thy nastiness.
Vanish, and promptly.

MELLISH. Can I leave thee here

Thus thinly clad, exposed to vernal dews ?
Come back with me, my son, unto our lodge.

CASHEL. Within this breast a fire is newly lit
Whose glow shall sun the dew away, whose radiance
Shall make the orb of night hang in the heavens
Unnoticed, like a glow-worm at high noon.

MELLISH. Ah me, ah me, where wilt thou spend the
night ?

CASHEL. Wiltstoken's windows wandering beneath,
Wiltstoken's holy bell hearkening,
Wiltstoken's lady loving breathlessly.

MELLISH. The lady of the castle ! Thou art mad.

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 299

CASHEL. Tis thou art mad to trifle in my path.
Thwart me no more. Begone.

MELLISH. My boy, my son,

I'd give my heart's blood for thy happiness.
Thwart thee, my son ! Ah no. I'll go with thee.
I'll brave the dews. I'll sacrifice my sleep.
I am old — no matter : ne'er shall it be said
Mellish deserted thee.

CASHEL. You resolute gods

That will not spare this man, upon your knees
Take the disparity twixt his age and mine.
Now from the ring to the high judgment seat
I step at your behest. Bear you me witness
This is not Victory, but Execution.

[He solemnly projects his fist with colossal force against
the waistcoat of Mellish^ who doubles up like a folded
towel^ and lies without sense or motion.
And now the night is beautiful again.

[ The castle clock strikes the hour in the distance.
Hark ! Hark ! Hark ! Hark ! Hark ! Hark ! Hark !

Hark! Hark! Hark!
It strikes in poetry. Tis ten o'clock.
Lydia : to thee !

[He steals off towards the castle. MELLISH stirs and
groans.

ACT II

SCENE I

London. A room in Lydia's house
Enter LYDIA and LUCIAN

LYDIA. Welcome, dear cousin, to my London house.
Of late you have been chary of your visits.

300 The Admirable Bashville Act n

LUCIAN. I have been greatly occupied of late.
The minister to whom I act as scribe
In Downing Street was born in Birmingham,
And, like a thoroughbred commercial statesman,
Splits his infinitives, which I, poor slave,
Must reunite, though all the time my heart
Yearns for my gentle coz's company.

LYDIA. Luci.an : there is some other reason. Think !
Since England was a nation every mood
Her scribes have prepositionally split ;
But thine avoidance dates from yestermonth.

LUCIAN. There is a man I like not haunts this house.

LYDIA. Thou speakst of Cashel Byron ?

LUCIAN. Aye, of him.

Hast thou forgotten that eventful night
When as we gathered were at Hoskyn House
To hear a lecture by Herr Abendgasse,
He placed a single finger on my chest,
And I, ensorceled, would have sunk supine
Had not a chair received my falling form.

LYDIA. Pooh ! That was but by way of illustration.

LUCIAN. What right had he to illustrate his point
Upon my person ? Was I his assistant
That he should try experiments on me
As Simpson did on his with chloroform ?
Now, by the cannon balls of Galileo
He hath unmanned me : all my nerve is gone.
This very morning my official chief,
Tapping with friendly forefinger this button,
Levelled me like a thunderstricken elm
Flat upon the Colonial Office floor.

LYDIA. Fancies, coz.

LUCIAN. Fancies ! Fits i the chief said fits !

Delirium tremens ! the chlorotic dance
Of Vitus ! What could any one have thought ?

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 301

Your ruffian friend hath ruined me. By Heaven,
I tremble at a thumbnail. Give me drink.

LYDIA. What ho, without there ! Bashville.

BASHVILLE [without'} Coming, madam.

Enter BASHVILLE

LYDIA. My cousin ails, Bashville. Procure some wet.

[Exit BASHVILLE.

LUCIAN. Some wet ! ! ! Where learnt you that atro-
cious word ?
This is the language of a flower-girl.

LYDIA. True. It is horrible. Said I " Some wet " ?
I meant, some drink. Why did I say " Some wet " ?
Am I ensorceled too ? " Some wet " ! Fie ! fie !
I feel as though some hateful thing had stained me.
Oh, Lucian, how could I have said "Some wet " ?

LUCIAN. The horrid conversation of this man
Hath numbed thy once unfailing sense of fitness.

LYDIA. Nay, he speaks very well : he's literate :
Shakespear he quotes unconsciously.

LUCIAN. And yet

Anon he talks pure pothouse.

Enter BASHVILLE

BASHVILLE. Sir i your potion.

LUCIAN. Thanks. [He drinks]. I am better.

A NEWSBOY [calling without'] Extra special Star !
Result of the great fight ! Name of the winner !

LYDIA. Who calls so loud ?

BASHVILLE. The papers, madam.

LYDIA. Why ?

Hath ought momentous happened ?

BASHVILLE, Madam : yes.

[ He produces a newspaper \

302 The Admirable Bashville Act II

All England for these thrilling paragraphs
A week has waited breathless,

LYDIA. Read them us.

BASHVILLE [reading] "At noon to-day, unknown to

the police,

Within a thousand miles of Wormwood Scrubbs,
Th' Australian Champion and his challenger,
The Flying Dutchman, formerly engaged
F the mercantile marine, fought to a finish.
Lord Worthington, the well-known sporting peer
Acted as referee."

LYDIA. Lord Worthington !

BASHVILLE. "The bold Ned Skene revisited the

ropes

To hold the bottle for his quondam novice j
Whilst in the seaman's corner were assembled
Professor Palmer and the Chelsea Snob.
Mellish, whose epigastrium has been hurt,
Tis said, by accident at Wiltstoken,
Looked none the worse in the Australian's corner.
The Flying Dutchman wore the Union Jack :
His colors freely sold amid the crowd ;
But CashePs well-known spot of white on blue

LYDIA. Whose, did you say ?

BASHVILLE. CashePs, my lady.

LYDIA. Lucian :

Your hand — a chair —

BASHVILLE. Madam : youre ill.

LYDIA. Proceed.

What you have read I do not understand ;
Yet I will hear it through. Proceed.

LUCIAN. Proceed.

BASHVILLE. " But Cashel's well-known spot of white

on blue
Was fairly rushed for. Time was called at twelve,

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 303

When, with a smile of confidence upon
His ocean-beaten mug '

LYDIA. His mug ?

LUCIAN [explaining'] His face.

BASHVILLE [continuing] " The Dutchman came un-
daunted to the scratch,

But found the champion there already. Both
Most heartily shook hands, amid the cheers
Of their encouraged backers. Two to one
Was offered on the Melbourne nonpareil ;
And soon, so fit the Flying Dutchman seemed,
Found takers everywhere. No time was lost
In getting to the business of the day.
The Dutchman led at once, and seemed to land
On Byron's dicebox ; but the seaman's reach,
Too short for execution at long shots,
Did not get fairly home upon the ivory ;
And Byron had the best of the exchange."

LYDIA. I do not understand. What were they doing ?

LUCIAN. Fighting with naked fists.

LYDIA. Oh, horrible !

I'll hear no more. Or stay : how did it end ?
Was Cashel hurt ?

LUCIAN [to BASHVILLE] Skip to the final round.

BASHVILLE. " Round Three : the rumors that had gone

about

Of a breakdown in Byron's recent training
Seemed quite confirmed. Upon the call of time
He rose, and, looking anything but cheerful,
Proclaimed with every breath Bellows to Mend.
At this point six to one was freely offered
Upon the Dutchman ; and Lord Worthington
Plunged at this figure till he stood to lose
A fortune should the Dutchman, as seemed certain,
Take down the number of the Panley boy.

304 The Admirable Bashville Act II

The Dutchman, glutton as we know he is,

Seemed this time likely to go hungry. Cashel

Was clearly groggy as he slipped the sailor,

Who, not to be denied, followed him up,

Forcing the fighting mid tremendous cheers."

LYDIA. Oh stop — no more — or tell the worst at once.
I'll be revenged. Bashville : call the police.
This brutal sailor shall be made to know
There's law in England.

LUCIAN. Do not interrupt him :

Mine ears are thirsting. Finish, man. What next ?

BASHVILLE. "Forty to one, the Dutchman's friends

exclaimed.

Done, said Lord Worthington, who shewed himself
A sportsman every inch. Barely the bet
Was booked, when, at the reeling champion's jaw
The sailor, bent on winning out of hand,
Sent in his right. The issue seemed a cert,
When Cashel, ducking smartly to his left,
Cross-countered like a hundredweight of brick "

LUCIAN. Death and damnation !

LYDIA. Oh, what does it mean ?

BASHVILLE. " The Dutchman went to grass, a beaten
man."

LYDIA. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Oh, well done,
Cashel !

BASHVILLE. " A scene of indescribable excitement
Ensued ; for it was now quite evident
That Byron's grogginess had all along
Been feigned to make the market for his backers.
We trust this sample of colonial smartness
Will not find imitators on this side.
The losers settled up like gentlemen ;
But many felt that Byron shewed bad taste
In taking old Ned Skene upon his back,

Act ii or, Constancy Unrewarded 305
And, with Bob Mellish tucked beneath his oxter,
Sprinting a hundred yards to show the crowd
The perfect pink of his condition" — \_a knock].

LYDIA [turning pale] Bashville

Didst hear ? A knock.

BASHVILLE. Madam : tis Byron's knock.

Shall I admit him ?

LUCIAN. Reeking from the ring !

Oh, monstrous ! Say youre out.

LYDIA. Send him away.

I will not see the wretch. How dare he keep
Secrets from ME ? I'll punish him. Pray say
I'm not at home. [BASHVILLE turns to go.] Yet stay.

I am afraid
He will not come again.

LUCIAN. A consummation

Devoutly to be wished by any lady.
Pray, do you wish this man to come again ?

LYDIA. No, Lucian. He hath used me very ill.
He should have told me. I will ne'er forgive him.
Say, Not at home.

BASHVILLE. Yes, madam. [Exit.

LYDIA Stay —

LUCIAN [stopping her] No, Lydia :

You shall not countermand that proper order.
Oh, would you cast the treasure of your mind,
The thousands at your bank, and, above all,
Your unassailable social position
Before this soulless mass of beef and brawn.

LYDIA. Nay, coz : youre prejudiced.

CASHEL [without] Liar and slave !

LYDIA. What words were those ?

LUCIAN. The man is drunk with slaughter.

306 The Admirable Bashville Act II

Enter BASHVILLE running : he shuts the door and locks it.

BASHVILLE. Save yourselves : at the staircase foot the

champion

Sprawls on the mat, by trick of wrestler tripped j
But when he rises, woe betide us all !

LYDIA. Who bade you treat my visitor with violence ?

BASHVILLE. He would not take my answer ; thrust

the door

Back in my face ; gave me the lie i' th' throat ;
Averred he felt your presence in his bones.
I said he should feel mine there too, and felled him j
Then fled to bar your door.

LYDIA. O lover's instinct !

He felt my presence. Well, let him come in.
We must not fail in courage with a fighter.
Unlock the door.

LUCIAN. Stop. Like all women, Lydia,

You have the courage of immunity.
To strike you were against his code of honor ;
But me, above the belt, he may perform on
T' th' height of his profession. Also Bashville.

BASHVILLE. Think not of me, sir. Let him do his

worst.

Oh, if the valor of my heart could weigh
The fatal difference twixt his weight and mine,
A second battle should he do this day :
Nay, though outmatched I be, let but my mistress
Give me the word : instant I'll take him on
Here — now — at catchweight. Better bite the carpet
A man, than fly, a coward.

LUCIAN. Bravely said :

I will assist you with the poker.

LYDIA. No :

I will not have him touched. Open the door.

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 307

BASHVILLE. Destruction knocks thereat. I smile, and
open.
[BASHVILLE opens the door. Dead silence. CASHEL

enters^ in tears. A solemn pause.
CASHEL. You know my secret ?
LYDIA. Yes.

CASHEL. And thereupon

You bade your servant fling me from your door.
LYDIA. I bade my servant say I was not here.
CASHEL [to BASHVILLE] Why didst thou better thy

instruction, man ?

Hadst thou but said, " She bade me tell thee this,"
Thoudst burst my heart. I thank thee for thy

mercy.
LYDIA. Oh, Lucian, didst thou call him " drunk with

slaughter " ?
Canst thou refrain from weeping at his woe ?

CASHEL [to LUCIAN] The unwritten law that shields

the amateur
Against professional resentment, saves thee.

0 coward, to traduce behind their backs
Defenceless prizefighters !

LUCIAN. Thou dost avow

Thou art a prizefighter.

CASHEL. It was my glory.

1 had hoped to offer to my lady there

My belts, my championships, my heaped-up stakes,
My undefeated record ; but I knew
Behind their blaze a hateful secret lurked.

LYDIA. Another secret ?

LUCIAN. Is there worse to come ?

CASHEL. Know ye not then my mother is an actress ?

LUCIAN. How horrible !

LYDIA. Nay, nay : how interesting !

CASHEL. A thousand victories cannot wipe out

308 The Admirable Bashville Act II

That birthstain. Oh, my speech bewrayeth it :

My earliest lesson was the player's speech

In Hamlet ; and to this day I express myself

More like a mobled queen than like a man

Of flesh and blood. Well may your cousin sneer !

What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba ?

LUCIAN. Injurious upstart : if by Hecuba
Thou pointest darkly at my lovely cousin,
Know that she is to me, and I to her,
What never canst thou be. I do defy thee ;
And maugre all the odds thy skill doth give,
Outside I will await thee.

LYDIA. I forbid

Expressly any such duello. Bashville :
The door. Put Mr Webber in a hansom,
And bid the driver hie to Downing Street.
No answer : tis my will.

[Exeunt LUCIAN and BASHVILLE.

And now, farewell.

You must not come again, unless indeed
You can some day look in my eyes and say :
Lydia : my occupation's gone.

CASHEL. Ah no :

It would remind you of my wretched mother.

0 God, let me be natural a moment !
What other occupation can I try ?
What would you have me be ?

LYDIA. A gentleman.

CASHEL. A gentleman ! I, Cashel Byron, stoop
To be the thing that bets on me ! the fool

1 flatter at so many coins a lesson !

The screaming creature who beside the ring
Gambles with basest wretches for my blood,
And pays with money that he never earned !
Let me die broken hearted rather !

Act II or. Constancy Unrewarded 309

LYDIA. But

You need not be an idle gentleman.
I call you one of Nature's gentlemen.

CASHEL. Thats the collection for the loser, Lydia.
I am not wont to need it. When your friends
Contest elections, and at foot o' th' poll
Rue their presumption, tis their wont to claim
A moral victory. In a sort they are
Nature's M.P.s. I am not yet so threadbare
As to accept these consolation stakes.

LYDIA. You are offended with me.

CASHEL. Yes I am.

I can put up with much ; but — " Nature's gentleman n \
I thank your ladyship of Lyons, but
Must beg to be excused.

LYDIA. But surely, surely,

To be a prizefighter, and maul poor mariners
With naked knuckles, is no work for you.

CASHEL. Thou dost arraign the inattentive Fates
That weave my thread of life in ruder patterns
Than these that lie, antimacassarly,
Asprent thy drawingroom. As well demand
Why I at birth chose to begin my life
A speechless babe, hairless, incontinent,
Hobbling upon all fours, a nurse's nuisance ?
Or why I do propose to lose my strength,
To blanch my hair, to let the gums recede
Far up my yellowing teeth, and finally
Lie down and moulder in a rotten grave ?
Only one thing more foolish could have been,
And that was to be born, not man, but woman.
This was thy folly, why rebuk'st thou mine ?

LYDIA. These are not things of choice.

CASHEL. And did I choose

My quick divining eye, my lightning hand,

310 The Admirable Bashville Act II

My springing muscle and untiring heart ?
Did I implant the instinct in the race
That found a use for these, and said to me,
Fight for us, and be fame and fortune thine ?

LYDIA. But there are other callings in the world.

CASHEL. Go tell thy painters to turn stockbrokers,
Thy poet friends to stoop oer merchants' desks
And pen prose records of the gains of greed.
Tell bishops that religion is outworn,
And that the Pampa to the horsebreaker
Opes new careers. Bid the professor quit
His fraudulent pedantries, and do i' the world
The thing he would teach others. Then return
To me and say : Cashel : they have obeyed -,
And on that pyre of sacrifice I, too,
Will throw my championship.

LYDIA. But tis so cruel.

CASHEL. Is it so ? I have hardly noticed that,
So cruel are all callings. Yet this hand,
That many a two days bruise hath ruthless given,
Hath kept no dungeon locked for twenty years,
Hath slain no sentient creature for my sport.
I am too squeamish for your dainty world,
That cowers behind the gallows and the lash,
The world that robs the poor, and with their spoil
Does what its tradesmen tell it. Oh, your ladies !
Sealskinned and egret-feathered ; all defiance
To Nature ; cowering if one say to them
"What will the servants think ? " Your gentlemen !
Your tailor- tyrannized visitors of whom
Flutter of wing and singing in the wood
Make chickenbutchers. And your medicine men !
Groping for cures in the tormented entrails
Of friendly dogs. Pray have you asked all these
To change their occupations ? Find you mine

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 3 1 1

So grimly crueller ? I cannot breathe
An air so petty and so poisonous.

LYDIA. But find you not their manners very nice ?

CASHEL. To me, perfection. Oh, they condescend
With a rare grace. Your duke, who condescends
Almost to the whole world, might for a Man
Pass in the eyes of those who never saw
The duke capped with a prince. See then, ye gods,
The duke turn footman, and his eager dame
Sink the great lady in the obsequious housemaid !
Oh, at such moments I could wish the Court
Had but one breadbasket, that with my fist
I could make all its windy vanity
Gasp itself out on the gravel. Fare you well.
I did not choose my calling ; but at least
I can refrain from being a gentleman.

LYDIA. You say farewell to me without a pang.

CASHEL. My calling hath apprenticed me to pangs.
This is a rib-bender ; but I can bear it.
It is a lonely thing to be a champion.

LYDIA. It is a lonelier thing to be a woman.

CASHEL. Be lonely then. Shall it be said of thee
That for his brawn thou misalliance mad'st
Wi' the Prince of Ruffians ? Never. Go thy ways ;
Or, if thou hast nostalgia of the mud,
Wed some bedogge*d wretch that on the slot
Of gilded snobbery, venire a terrey
Will hunt through life with eager nose on earth
And hang thee thick with diamonds. I am rich ;
But all my gold was fought for with my hands.

LYDIA. What dost thou mean by rich ?

CASHEL. There is a man,

Hight Paradise, vaunted unconquerable,
Hath dared to say he will be glad to hear from me.
I have replied that none can hear from me

3 1 2 The Admirable Bashville Act n

Until a thousand solid pounds be staked.

His friends have confidently found the money.

Ere fall of leaf that money shall be mine ;

And then I shall possess ten thousand pounds.

I had hoped to tempt thee with that monstrous sum.

LYDIA. Thou silly Cashel, tis but a week's income.
I did propose to give thee three times that
For pocket money when we two were wed.

CASHEL. Give me my hat. I have been fooling here.
Now, by the Hebrew lawgiver, I thought
That only in America such revenues
Were decent deemed. Enough. My dream is dreamed.
Your gold weighs like a mountain on my chest.
Farewell.

LYDIA. The golden mountain shall be thine
The day thou quitst thy horrible profession.

CASHEL. Tempt me not, woman. It is honor calls.
Slave to the Ring I rest until the face
Of Paradise be changed.

Enter BASHVILLE

BASHVILLE. Madam, your carriage,

Ordered by you at two. Tis now half-past.

CASHEL. Sdeath ! is it half-past two ? The king ! the
king !

LYDIA. The king ! What mean you ?

CASHEL. I must meet a monarch

This very afternoon at Islington.

LYDIA. At Islington ! You must be mad.

CASHEL. A cab !

Go call a cab ; and let a cab be called -9
And let the man that calls it be thy footman.

LYDIA. You are not well. You shall not go alone.
My carriage waits. I must accompany you.
I go to find my hat. I Exit.

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 3 1 3

CASHEL. Like Paracelsus,

Who went to find his soul. [ To BASHVILLE.] And now,

young man,

How comes it that a fellow of your inches,
So deft a wrestler and so bold a spirit,
Can stoop to be a flunkey ? Call on me
On your next evening out. I'll make a man of you.

Surely you are ambitious and aspire

BASHVILLE. To be a butler and draw corks ; wherefore,
By Heaven, I will draw yours.

[He hits CASHEL on the nose^ and runs out.
CASHEL [thoughtfully putting the side of his forefinger
to his nose^ and studying the blood on it\ Too quick
for me !
There's money in this youth.

Re-enter LYDIA, hatted and gloved

LYDIA. O Heaven ! you bleed.

CASHEL. Lend me a key or other frigid object,
That I may put it down my back, and staunch
The welling life stream.

LYDIA [giving him her keys'] Oh, what have you
done ?

CASHEL. Flush on the boko napped your footman's
left.

LYDIA. I do not understand.

CASHEL. True. Pardon me.

I have received a blow upon the nose
In sport from Bashville. Next, ablution ; else
I shall be total gules. [He hurries out.

LYDIA. How well he speaks !

There is a silver trumpet in his lips
That stirs me to the finger ends. His nose
Dropt lovely color : tis a perfect blood.
I would twere mingled with mine own !

314 The Admirable Bash ville Act II

Enter BASHVILLE

What now ?

BASHVILLE. Madam, the coachman can no longer wait :
The horses will take cold.

LYDIA. I do beseech him

A moment's grace. Oh, mockery of wealth !
The third class passenger unchidden rides
Whither and when he will : obsequious trams
Await him hourly : subterranean tubes
With tireless coursers whisk him through the town j
But we, the rich, are slaves to Houyhnhnms :
We wait upon their colds, and frowst all day
Indoors, if they but cough or spurn their hay.

BASHVILLE. Madam, an omnibus to Euston Road,
And thence t' th' Angel—

Enter CASHEL

LYDIA. Let us haste, my love :

The coachman is impatient.

CASHEL. Did he guess

He stays for Cashel Byron, he'd outwait
Pompei's sentinel. Let us away.
This day of deeds, as yet but half begun,
Must ended be in merrie Islington.

[Exeunt LYDIA and CASHEL.

BASHVILLE. Gods ! how she hangs on's arm ! I am

alone.

Now let me lift the cover from my soul.
O wasted humbleness ! Deluded diffidence !
How often have I said, Lie down, poor footman :
She'll never stoop to thee, rear as thou wilt
Thy powder to the sky. And now, by Heaven,

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 315

She stoops below me ; condescends upon

This hero of the pothouse, whose exploits,

Writ in my character from my last place,

Would damn me into ostlerdom. And yet

There's an eternal justice in it ; for

By so much as the ne'er subdued Indian

Excels the servile negro, doth this ruffian

Precedence take of me. cc Ich dien" Damnation !

I serve. My motto should have been, " I scalp."

And yet I do not bear the yoke for gold.

Because I love her I have blacked her boots ;

Because I love her I have cleaned her knives,

Doing in this the office of a boy,

Whilst, like the celebrated maid that milks

And does the meanest chares, Ive shared the passions

Of Cleopatra. It has been my pride

To give her place the greater altitude

By lowering mine, and of her dignity

To be so jealous that my cheek has flamed

Even at the thought of such a deep disgrace

As love for such a one as I would be

For such a one as she ; and now ! and now !

A prizefighter ! O irony ! O bathos !

To have made way for this ! Oh, Bashville, Bashville :

Why hast thou thought so lowly of thyself,

So heavenly high of her ? Let what will come,

My love must speak : twas my respect was dumb.

SCENE II

The Agricultural Hall in Islington^ crowded with spec-
tators. In the arena a throne^ with a boxing ring
before it. A balcony above on the right^ occupied

3 1 6 The Admirable Bashville Act II

by persons of fashion : among others, LYDIA and

LORD WoRTHINGTON.

Flourish. Enter LUCIAN and CETEWAYO, with Chiefs
in attendance.

CETEWAYO. Is this the Hall of Husbandmen ?

LUCIAN. It is.

CETEWAYO. Are these anaemic dogs the English
people ?

LUCIAN. Mislike us not for our complexions.
The pallid liveries of the pall of smoke
Belched by the mighty chimneys of our factories.
And by the million patent kitchen ranges
Of happy English homes.

CETEWAYO. When first I came

I deemed those chimneys the fuliginous altars
Of some infernal god. I now perceive
The English dare not look upon the sky.
They are moles and owls : they call upon the soot
To cover them.

LUCIAN. You cannot understand

The greatness of this people, Cetewayo.
You are a savage, reasoning like a child.
Each pallid English face conceals a brain
Whose powers are proven in the works of Newton
And in the plays of the immortal Shakespear.
There is not one of all the thousands here
But, if you placed him naked in the desert,
Would presently construct a steam engine,
And lay a cable t' th' Antipodes.

CETEWAYO. Have I been brought a million miles by

sea

To learn how men can lie ! Know, Father Webber,
Men become civilized through twin diseases,

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 317

Terror and Greed to wit : these two conjoined

Become the grisly parents of Invention.

Why does the trembling white with frantic toil

Of hand and brain produce the magic gun

That slays a mile off, whilst the manly Zulu

Dares look his foe i' the face ; fights foot to foot ;

Lives in the present ; drains the Here and Now ;

Makes life a long reality, and death

A moment only ; whilst your Englishman

Glares on his burning candle's winding-sheets,

Counting the steps of his approaching doom,

And in the murky corners ever sees

Two horrid shadows, Death and Poverty :

In the which anguish an unnatural edge

Comes on his frighted brain, which straight devises

Strange frauds by which to filch unearned gold,

Mad crafts by which to slay unfaced foes,

Until at last his agonized desire

Makes possibility its slave. And then —

Horrible climax ! All-undoing spite ! —

Th' importunate clutching of the coward's hand

From wearied Nature Devastation's secrets

Doth wrest ; when straight the brave black-livered man

Is blown explosively from off the globe ;

And Death and Dread, with their white-livered slaves

Oer-run the earth, and through their chattering teeth

Stammer the words "Survival of the Fittest."

Enough of this : I came not here to talk.

Thou sayst thou hast two white-faced ones who dare

Fight without guns, and spearless, to the death.

Let them be brought.

LUCIAN. They fight not to the death,

But under strictest rules : as, for example,
Half of their persons shall not be attacked ;
Nor shall they suffer blows when they fall down,

318 The Admirable Bashville Act II

Nor stroke of foot at any time. And, further,

That frequent opportunities of rest

With succor and refreshment be secured them.

CETEWAYO. Ye gods, what cowards ! Zululand, my

Zululand :

Personified Pusillanimity
Hath taen thee from the bravest of the brave !

LUCIAN. Lo the rude savage whose untutored mind
Cannot perceive self-evidence, and doubts
That Brave and English mean the self-same thing !

CETEWAYO. Well, well, produce these heroes. I sur-
mise

They will be carried by their nurses, lest
Some barking dog or bumbling bee should scare them.

CETEWAYO takes his state. Enter PARADISE

LYDIA. What hateful wretch is this whose mighty

thews
Presage destruction to his adversaries.

LORD WORTHINGTON. Tis Paradise,

LYDIA. He of whom Cashel spoke ?,

A dreadful thought ices my heart. Oh, why
Did Cashel leave us at the door ?

Enter CASHEL

LORD WORTHINGTON. Behold !

The champion comes.

LYDIA. Oh, I could kiss him now

Here, before all the world. His boxing things
Render him most attractive. But I fear
Yon villain's fists may maul him.

WORTHINGTON. Have no fear.

Hark ! the king speaks.

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 3 1 9

CETEWAYO. Ye sons of the white queen :

Tell me your names and deeds ere ye fall to.

PARADISE. Your royal highness, you beholds a bloke
What gets his living honest by his fists.
I may not have the polish of some toffs
As I could mention on ; but up to now
No man has took my number down. I scale
Close on twelve stun ; my age is twenty- three ;
And at Bill Richardson's Blue Anchor pub
Am to be heard of any day by such
As likes the job. I dont know, governor,
As ennythink remains for me to say.

CETEWAYO. Six wives and thirty oxen shalt thou have
If on the sand thou leave thy foeman dead.
Methinks he looks full scornfully on thee.
[ To CASHEL] Ha ! dost thou not so ?

CASHEL. Sir, I do beseech you

To name the bone, or limb, or special place
Where you would have me hit him with this fist.

CETEWAYO. Thou hast a noble brow ; but much I

fear
Thine adversary will disfigure it.

CASHEL. There's a divinity that shapes our ends
Rough hew them how we will. Give me the gloves.

THE MASTER OF THE REVELS. Paradise, a professor.

Cashel Byron,
Also professor. Time ! [ They spar.

LYDIA. Eternity

It seems to me until this fight be done.

CASHEL. Dread monarch : this is called the upper

cut,

And this a hook-hit of mine own invention.
The hollow region where I plant this blow
Is called the mark. My left, you will observe,
I chiefly use for long shots : with my right

320 The Admirable Bashville Act II

Aiming beside the angle of the jaw
And landing with a certain delicate screw
I without violence knock my foeman out.
Mark how he falls forward upon his face !
The rules allow ten seconds to get up ;
And as the man is still quite silly, I
Might safely finish him j but my respect
For your most gracious majesty's desire
To see some further triumphs of the science
Of self-defence postpones awhile his doom.

PARADISE. How can a bloke do hisself proper justice
With pillows on his fists ?

[He tears off his gloves and attacks CASHEL

with his bare knuckles.

THE CROWD. Unfair ! The rules !

CETEWAYO. The joy of battle surges boiling up
And bids me join the mellay. Isandhlana
And Victory ! \_ He falls on the bystanders.

THE CHIEFS. Victory and Isandhlana !

[ They run amok. General panic and stampede.

The ring is swept away.

LUCIAN. Forbear these most irregular proceedings.
Police ! Police !

[He engages CETEWAYO with his wnbrella. The balcony
comes down with a crash. Screams from its occupants.
Indescribable confusion.
CASHEL [dragging LyniAfrom the struggling heap] My

love, my love, art hurt ?

LYDIA. No, no ; but save my sore oermatched cousin.
A POLICEMAN. Give us a lead, sir. Save the English

flag.
Africa tramples on it.

CASHEL. Africa !

Not all the continents whose mighty shoulders
The dancing diamonds of the seas bedeck

Act II or, Constancy Unrewarded 321

Shall trample on the blue with spots of white.

Now, Lydia, mark thy lover. [He charges the Zulus.

LYDIA. Hercules

Cannot withstand him. See : the king is down j
The tallest chief is up, heels over head,
Tossed corklike oer my Cashel's sinewy back ;
And his lieutenant all deflated gasps
For breath upon the sand. The others fly
In vain : his fist oer magic distances
Like a chameleon's tongue shoots to its mark ;
And the last African upon his knees
Sues piteously for quarter. [Rushing into CASHEL'S arms']

Oh, my hero :
Thoust saved us all this day.

CASHEL. Twas all for thee.

CETEWAYO [trying to rise] Have I been struck by-
lightning ?

LUCIAN. Sir, your conduct

Can only be described as most ungentlemanly.

POLICEMAN. One of the prone is white.

CASHEL. Tis Paradise.

POLICEMAN. He's choking : he has something in his
mouth.

LYDIA [to CASHEL] Oh Heaven ! there is blood upon

your hip.
Youre hurt.

CASHEL. The morsel in yon wretch's mouth
Was bitten out of me.

[Sensation. LYDIA screams and swoons in CASHEL'S
arms.

322 The Admirable Bashville Act in

ACT III

Wiltstoken. A room in the Warren Lodge

LYDIA at her writing table

LYDIA. O Past and Present, how ye do conflict
As here I sit writing my father's life !
The autumn woodland woos me from without
With whispering of leaves and dainty airs
To leave this fruitless haunting of the past.
My father was a very learned man.
[ sometimes think I shall oldmaided be
Ere I unlearn the things he taught to me.

Enter POLICEMAN

POLICEMAN. Asking your ladyship to pardon me
For this intrusion, might I be so bold
As ask a question of your people here
Concerning the Queen's peace ?

LYDIA. My people here

Are but a footman and a simple maid ;
And both have craved a holiday to join
Some local festival. But, sir, your helmet
Proclaims the Metropolitan Police.

POLICEMAN. Madam, it does ; and I may now inform

you

That what you term a local festival
Is a most hideous outrage gainst the law,
Which we to quell from London have come down ;

Act III or, Constancy Unrewarded 323
In short, a prizefight. My sole purpose here
Is to inquire whether your ladyship
Any bad characters this afternoon
Has noted in the neighborhood.

LYDIA. No, none, sir.

I had not let my maid go forth to-day
Thought I the roads unsafe.

POLICEMAN. Fear nothing, madam :

The force protects the fair. My mission here
Is to wreak ultion for the broken law.
I wish your ladyship good afternoon.

LYDIA. Good afternoon. [Exit POLICEMAN.

A prizefight ! O my heart '
Cashel : hast thou deceived me ? Can it be
Thou hast backslidden to the hateful calling
I asked thee to eschew ?

O wretched maid,

Why didst thou flee from London to this place
To write thy father's life, whenas in town
Thou mightst have kept a guardian eye on him —
Whats that ? A flying footstep —

Enter CASHEL

CASHEL. Sanctuary !

The law is on my track. What ! Lydia here !

LYDIA. Ay : Lydia here. Hast thou done murder,

then,
That in so horrible a guise thou comest ?

CASHEL. Murder ! I would I had. Yon cannibal
Hath forty thousand lives ; and I have taen
But thousands thirty-nine. I tell thee, Lydia,
On the impenetrable sarcolobe
That holds his seedling brain these fists have pounded

324 The Admirable Bashville Act ill

By Shrewsb'ry clock an hour. This bruised grass
And caked mud adhering to my form
I have acquired in rolling on the sod
Clinched in his grip. This scanty reefer coat
For decency snatched up as fast I fled
When the police arrived, belongs to Mellish.
Tis all too short ; hence my display of rib
And forearm mother-naked. Be not wroth
Because I seem to wink at you : by Heaven,
Twas Paradise that plugged me in the eye
Which I perforce keep closing. Pity me,
My training wasted and my blows unpaid.
Sans stakes, sans victory, sans everything
I had hoped to win. Oh, I could sit me down
And weep for bitterness.

LYDIA. Thou wretch, begone.

CASHEL. Begone !

LYDIA. I say begone. Oh, tiger's heart

Wrapped in a young man's hide, canst thou not live
In love with Nature and at peace with Man ?
Must thou, although thy hands were never made
To blacken other's eyes, still batter at
The image of Divinity ? I loathe thee.
Hence from my house and never see me more.

CASHEL. I go. The meanest lad on thy estate
Would not betray me thus. But tis no matter.

[He opens the door.
Ha ! the police. I'm lost. [He shuts the door again.

Now shalt thou see

My last fight fought. Exhausted as I am,
To capture me will cost the coppers dear.
Come one, come all !

LYDIA. Oh, hide thee, I implore :

I cannot see thee hunted down like this.
There is my room. Conceal thyself therein.

Act III or, Constancy Unrewarded 325

Quick, I command. [He goes into the room.

With horror I foresee,
Lydia, that never lied, must lie for thee.

Enter POLICEMAN, with PARADISE and MELLISH in
custody^ BASHVILLE, constables^ and others

POLICEMAN. Keep back your bruise'd prisoner lest he

shock

This wellbred lady's nerves. Your pardon, maam ;
But have you seen by chance the other one ?
In this direction he was seen to run.

LYDIA. A man came here anon with bloody hands
And aspect that did turn my soul to snow.

POLICEMAN. Twas he. What said he ?

LYDIA. Begged for sanctuary.

I bade the man begone.

POLICEMAN. Most properly.

Saw you which way he went ?

LYDIA. I cannot tell.

PARADISE. He seen me coming ; and he done a bunk.

POLICEMAN. Peace, there. Excuse his damaged

features, lady :

He's Paradise ; and this one's Byron's trainer,
Mellish.

MELLISH. Injurious copper, in thy teeth
I hurl the lie. I am no trainer, I.
My father, a respected missionary,
Apprenticed me at fourteen years of age
T' the poetry writing. To these woods I came
With Nature to commune. My revery
Was by a sound of blows rudely dispelled.
Mindful of what my sainted parent taught

326 The Admirable Bashville Act ill

I rushed to play the peacemaker, when lo !
These minions of the law laid hands on me.

BASHVILLE. A lovely woman, with distracted cries,
In most resplendent fashionable frock,
Approaches like a wounded antelope.

Enter ADELAIDE GISBORNE

ADELAIDE. Where is my Cashel ? Hath he been

arrested ?

POLICEMAN. I would I had thy Cashel by the collar :
He hath escaped me.

ADELAIDE. Praises be for ever !

LYDIA. Why dost thou call the missing man thy

Cashel?

ADELAIDE. He is mine only son.
ALL. Thy son !

ADELAIDE. My Son.

LYDIA. I thought his mother hardly would have

known him,
So crushed his countenance.

ADELAIDE. A ribald peer,
Lord Worthington by name, this morning came
With honeyed words beseeching me to mount
His four-in-hand, and to the country hie
To see some English sport. Being by nature
Frank as a child, I fell into the snare,
But took so long to dress that the design
Failed of its full effect j for not until
The final round we reached the horrid scene.
Be silent all ; for now I do approach
My tragedy's catastrophe. Know, then,
That Heaven did bless me with an only son,
A boy devoted to his doting mother

Act III or, Constancy Unrewarded 327

POLICEMAN. Hark ! did you hear an oath from yonder
room ?

ADELAIDE. Respect a broken-hearted mother's grief,
And do not interrupt me in my scene.
Ten years ago my darling disappeared
(Ten dreary twelvemonths of continuous tears,
Tears that have left me prematurely aged ;
For I am younger far than I appear).
Judge of my anguish when to-day I saw
Stripped to the waist, and righting like a demon
With one who, whatsoe'er his humble virtues,
Was clearly not a gentleman, my son !

ALL. O strange event ! O passing tearful tale !

ADELAIDE. I thank you from the bottom of my heart
For the reception you have given my woe ;
And now I ask, where is my wretched son ?
He must at once come home with me, and quit
A course of life that cannot be allowed.

Enter CASHEL

CASHEL. Policeman : I do yield me to the law.

LYDIA. Oh no.

ADELAIDE. My son !

CASHEL. My mother ! Do not kiss me :

My visage is too sore.

POLICEMAN. The lady hid him.

This is a regular plant. You cannot be
Up to that sex. [To CASHEL] You come along with
me.

LYDIA. Fear not, my Cashel : I will bail thee out.

CASHEL. Never. I do embrace my doom with joy.
With Paradise in Pentonville or Portland
I shall feel safe : there are no mothers there.

ADELAIDE. Ungracious boy —

328 The Admirable Bashville Act in

CASHEL. Constable : bear me hence.

MELLISH. Oh, let me sweetest reconcilement make
By calling to thy mind that moving song : —

[Sings] They say there is no other —

CASHEL. Forbear at once, or the next note of music
That falls upon thine ear shall clang in thunder
From the last trumpet.

ADELAIDE. A disgraceful threat

To level at this virtuous old man.

LYDIA. Oh, Cashel, if thou scornst thy mother thus,
How wilt thou treat thy wife ?

CASHEL. There spake my fate :

I knew you would say that. Oh, mothers, mothers.
Would you but let your wretched sons alone
Life were worth living ! Had I any choice
In this importunate relationship ?
None. And until that high auspicious day
When the millennium on an orphaned world
Shall dawn, and man upon his fellow look,
Reckless of consanguinity, my mother
And I within the self-same hemisphere
Conjointly may not dwell.

ADELAIDE. Ungentlemanly !

CASHEL. I am no gentleman. I am a criminal,
Redhanded, baseborn —

ADELAIDE. Baseborn ! Who dares say it?

Thou art the son and heir of Bingley Bumpkin
FitzAlgernon de Courcy Cashel Byron,
Sieur of Park Lane and Overlord of Dorset,
Who after three months wedded happiness
Rashly fordid himself with prussic acid,
Leaving a tearstained note to testify-
That having sweetly honeymooned with me,
He now could say, O Death, where is thy sting ?

Act ill or, Constancy Unrewarded 329

POLICEMAN. Sir : had I known your quality, this cop
I had averted j but it is too late.
The law's above us both.

Enter LUCIAN, with an Order in Council

LUCIAN. Not so, policeman.

I bear a message from The Throne itself
Of fullest amnesty for Byron's past.
Nay, more : of Dorset deputy lieutenant
He is proclaimed. Further, it is decreed,
In memory of his glorious victory
Over our country's foes at Islington,
The flag of England shall for ever bear
On azure field twelve swanlike spots of white ;
And by an exercise of feudal right
Too long disused in this anarchic age
Our sovereign doth confer on him the hand
Of Miss Carew, Wiltstoken's wealthy heiress.

[General acclamation.

POLICEMAN. Was anything, sir, said about me ?

LUCIAN. Thy faithful services are not forgot :
In future call thyself Inspector Smith.

[Renewed acclamation.

POLICEMAN. I thank you, sir. I thank you, gentlemen.

LUCIAN. My former opposition, valiant champion,
Was based on the supposed discrepancy
Betwixt your rank and Lydia's. Here's my hand.

BASHVILLE. And I do here unselfishly renounce
All my pretensions to my lady's favor. [Sensation.

LYDIA. What, Bashville ! didst thou love me ?

BASHVILLE. Madam : yes.

Tis said : now let me leave immediately.

LYDIA. In taking, Bashville, this most tasteful course
You are but acting as a gentleman

330 The Admirable Bashville Act III

In the like case would act. I fully grant
Your perfect right to make a declaration
Which flatters me and honors your ambition.
Prior attachment bids me firmly say
That whilst my Cashel lives, and polyandry
Rests foreign to the British social scheme,
Your love is hopeless ; still, your services,
Made zealous by disinterested passion.
Would greatly add to my domestic comfort ;
And if

CASHEL. Excuse me. I have other views.
Ive noted in this man such aptitude
For art and exercise in his defence
That I prognosticate for him a future
More glorious than my past. Henceforth I dub him
The Admirable Bashville, Byron's Novice j
And to the utmost of my mended fortunes
Will back him gainst the world at ten stone six.

ALL. Hail, Byron's Novice, champion that shall be !

BASHVILLE. Must I renounce my lovely lady's service,
And mar the face of man ?

CASHEL. Tis Fate's decree.

For know, rash youth, that in this star crost world
Fate drives us all to find our chiefest good
In what we can, and not in what we would.

POLICEMAN. A post-horn — hark !

CASHEL. What noise of wheels is this ?

LORD WORTHINGTON drives upon the scene in his four-
in-hand^ and descends

ADELAIDE. Perfidious peer !

LORD WORTHINGTON. Sweet Adelaide

ADELAIDE. Forbear,

Audacious one : my name is Mrs. Byron.

Act ill or, Constancy Unrewarded 331

LORD WORTHINGTON. Oh, change that title for the

sweeter one
Of Lady Worthington.

CASHEL. Unhappy man,

You know not what you do.

LYDIA. Nay> tis a match

Of most auspicious promise. Dear Lord Worthington,
You tear from us our mother-in-law —

CASHEL. Ha ! True.

LYDIA. — but we will make the sacrifice. She blushes :
At least she very prettily produces
Blushing's effect.

ADELAIDE. My lord : I do accept you.

[ They embrace. Rejoicings.

CASHEL [aside] It wrings my heart to see my noble

backer

Lay waste his future thus. The world's a chessboard,
And we the merest pawns in fist of Fate.
[Aloud] And now, my friends, gentle and simple both,
Our scene draws to a close. In lawful course
As Dorset's deputy lieutenant I
Do pardon all concerned this afternoon
In the late gross and brutal exhibition
Of miscalled sport.

LYDIA [throwing herself into his arms] Your boats are
burnt at last.

CASHEL. This is the face that burnt a thousand boats,
And ravished Cashel Byron from the ring.
But to conclude. Let William Paradise
Devote himself to science, and acquire,
By studying the player's speech in Hamlet,
A more refined address. You, Robert Mellish,
To the Blue Anchor hostelry attend him ;
Assuage his hurts, and bid Bill Richardson
Limit his access to the fatal tap.

332 The Admirable Bash ville Act III

Now mount we on my backer's four-in-hand,

And to St. George's Church, whose portico

Hanover Square shuts off from Conduit Street,

Repair we all. Strike up the wedding march ;

And, Mellish, let thy melodies trill forth

Broad oer the wold as fast we bowl along.

Give me the post-horn. Loose the flowing rein ;

And up to London drive with might and main.

[Exeunt.

NOTE ON MODERN PRIZE-
FIGHTING

IN 1882, when this book was written, prizefighting
seemed to be dying out. Sparring matches with boxing
gloves, under the Queensberry rules, kept pugilism faintly
alive ; but it was not popular, because the public, which
cares only for the excitement of a strenuous fight,
believed then that the boxing glove made sparring as
harmless a contest of pure skill as a fencing match with
buttoned foils. This delusion was supported by the
limitation of the sparring match to boxing. In the
prize ring under the old rules a combatant might trip,
hold, or throw his antagonist ; so that each round finished
either with a knockdown blow, which, except when it is
really a liedown blow, is much commoner in fiction than
it was in the ring, or with a visible body-to-body struggle
ending in a fall. In a sparring match all that happens is
that a man with a watch in his hand cries out " Time ! "
whereupon the two champions prosaically stop sparring
and sit down for a minute's rest and refreshment. The
unaccustomed and inexpert spectator in those days did
not appreciate the severity of the exertion or the risk
of getting hurt : he underrated them as ignorantly as
he would have overrated the more dramatically obvious
terrors of a prizefight. Consequently the interest in the

334 Cashel Byron's Profession

annual sparrings for the Queensberry Championships
was confined to the few amateurs who had some critical
knowledge of the game of boxing, and to the survivors
of the generation for which the fight between Sayers and
Heenan had been described in The Times as solemnly as
the University Boat Race. In short, pugilism was out of
fashion because the police had suppressed the only form of it
which fascinated the public by its undissembled pugnacity.

All that was needed to rehabilitate it was the discovery
that the glove fight is a more trying and dangerous form
of contest than the old knuckle fight. Nobody knew
that then : everybody knows it, or ought to know it, now.
And, accordingly, pugilism is more prosperous to-day
than it has ever been before.

How far this result was foreseen by the author of the
Queensberry Rules, which superseded those of the old
prize ring, will probably never be known. There is no
doubt that they served their immediate turn admirably.
That turn was, the keeping alive of boxing in the teeth
of the law against prizefighting. Magistrates believed,
as the public believed, that when men's knuckles were
muffled in padded gloves ; when they were forbidden to
wrestle or hold one another j when the duration of a
round was fixed by the clock, and the number of rounds
limited to what seems (to those who have never tried)
to be easily within the limits of ordinary endurance ; and
when the traditional interval for rest between the rounds
was doubled, that then indeed violence must be check-
mated, so that the worst the boxers could do was to " spar
for points " before three gentlemanly members of the
Stock Exchange, who would carefully note the said points
on an examination paper at the ring side, awarding marks
only for skill and elegance, and sternly discountenancing
the claims of brute force. It may be that both the
author of the rules and the "judges" who administered

Modern Prizefighting 335

them in the earlier days really believed all this ; for, as
far as I know, the limit of an amateur pugilist's romantic
credulity has never yet been reached and probably never
will. But if so, their good intentions were upset by the
operation of a single new rule. Thus.

In the old prize ring a round had no fixed duration.
It was terminated by the fall of one of the combatants (in
practice usually both of them), and was followed by an
interval of half a minute for recuperation. The practical
effect of this was that a combatant could always get a
respite of half a minute whenever he wanted it by pre-
tending to be knocked down : " finding the earth the
safest place," as the old phrase went. For this the
Marquess of Queensberry substituted a rule that a round
with the gloves should last a specified time, usually three
or four minutes, and that a combatant who did not stand
up to his opponent continuously during that time (ten
seconds being allowed for rising in the event of a knock-
down) lost the battle. That unobtrusively slipped-in
ten seconds limit has produced the modern glove fight.
Its practical effect is that a man dazed by a blow or a fall
for, say, twelve seconds, which would not have mattered in
an old-fashioned fight with its thirty seconds interval,1 has

1 In a treatise on boxing by Captain Edgeworth Johnstone, just published,
I read, " In the days of the prize ring, fights lasted for hours ; and the knock-
out blow was unknown." This statement is a little too sweeping. The
blow was known well enough. A veteran prizefighter once described to me
his first experience of its curious effect on the senses. Only, as he had
thirty seconds to recover in instead of ten, it did not end the battle. The
thirty seconds made the knock-out so unlikely that the old pugilists regarded
it as a rare accident, not worth trying for. The glove fighter tries for
nothing else. Nevertheless knock-outs, and very dramatic ones too (Mace
by King, for example), did occur in the prize ring from time to time.
Captain Edgeworth Johnstone's treatise is noteworthy in comparison with
the earlier Badminton handbook of sparring by Mr. E. B. Michell (one of
the Queensberry champions) as throwing over the old teaching of prize-ring
boxing with mufflers, and going in frankly for glove fighting, or, to put it
classically, cestus boxing.

336 Cashel Byron's Profession

under the Queensberry rules either to lose or else stagger
to his feet in a helpless condition and be eagerly battered
into insensibility by his opponent before he can recover
his powers of self-defence. The notion that such battery
cannot be inflicted with boxing gloves is only entertained
by people who have never used them or seen them used.
I may say that I have myself received, in an accident, a
blow in the face, involving two macadamized holes in it,
more violent than the most formidable pugilist could have
given me with his bare knuckles. This blow did not
stun or disable me even momentarily. On the other
hand, I have seen a man knocked quite silly by a tap from
the most luxurious sort of boxing glove made, wielded by
a quite unathletic literary man sparring for the first time
in his life. The human jaw, like the human elbow, is
provided, as every boxer knows, with a " funny bone " ;
and the pugilist who is lucky enough to jar that funny
bone with a blow practically has his opponent at his
mercy for at least ten seconds. Such a blow is called a
"knock-out." The funny bone and the ten seconds
rule explain the development of Queensberry sparring
into the modern knocking-out match or glove fight.

This development got its first impulse from the dis-
covery by sparring competitors that the only way in
which a boxer, however skilful, could make sure of a
verdict in his favor, was by knocking his opponent out.
This will be easily understood by any one who remembers
the pugilistic Bench of those days. The "judges"
at the competitions were invariably ex-champions : that
is, men who had themselves won former competitions.
Now the judicial faculty, if it is not altogether a legal
fiction, is at all events pretty rare even among men whose
ordinary pursuits tend to cultivate it, and to train them
in dispassionateness. Among pugilists it is quite cer-
tainly very often non-existent. The average pugilist is

Modern Prizefighting 337

a violent partisan, who seldom witnesses a hot encounter
without getting much more excited than the combatants
themselves. Further, he is usually filled with a local
patriotism which makes him, if a Londoner, deem it a
duty to disparage a provincial, and, if a provincial, to
support a provincial at all hazards against a cockney.
He has, besides, personal favorites on whose success he
bets wildly. On great occasions like the annual com-
petitions, he is less judicial and more convivial after dinner
(when the finals are sparred) than before it. Being seldom
a fine boxer, he often regards skill and style as a reflection
on his own deficiencies, and applauds all verdicts given for
" game " alone. When he is a technically good boxer,
he is all the less likely to be a good critic, as Providence
seldom lavishes two rare gifts on the same individual.
Even if we take the sanguine and patriotic view that
when you appoint such a man a judge, and thus stop
his betting, you may depend on his sense of honor and
responsibility to neutralize all the other disqualifications,
they are sure to be exhibited most extremely by the
audience before which he has to deliver his verdict.
Now it takes a good deal of strength of mind to give
an unpopular verdict j and this strength of mind is not
necessarily associated with the bodily hardihood of the
champion boxer. Consequently, when the strength of
mind is not forthcoming, the audience becomes the
judge, and the popular competitor gets the verdict. And
the shortest way to the heart of a big audience is to stick to
your man j stop his blows bravely with your nose and return
them with interest ; cover yourself and him with your
own gore ; and outlast him in a hearty punching match.
It was under these circumstances that the competitors
for sparring championships concluded that they had better
decide the bouts themselves by knocking their opponents
out, and waste no time in cultivating a skill and style

z

338 Cashel Byron's Profession

for which they got little credit, and which actually set
some of the judges against them. The public instantly
began to take an interest in the sport. And so, by a
pretty rapid evolution, the dexterities which the boxing
glove and the Oueensberry rules were supposed to sub-
stitute for the old brutalities of Sayers and Heenan were
really abolished by them.

Let me describe the process as I saw it myself.
Twenty years ago a poet friend of mine, who, like all
poets, delighted in combats, insisted on my sharing
his interest in pugilism, and took me about to all
the boxing competitions of the day. I was nothing
loth ; for, my own share of original sin apart, any one
with a sense of comedy must find the arts of self-defence
delightful (for a time) through their pedantry, their
quackery, and their action and reaction between amateur
romantic illusion and professional eye to business.

The fencing world, as Moliere well knew, is perhaps
a more exquisite example of a fool's paradise than the
boxing world ; but it is too restricted and expensive to
allow play for popular character in a non-duelling country,
as the boxing world (formerly called quite appropriately
"the Fancy") does. At all events, it was the boxing
world that came under my notice ; and as I was amused and
sceptically observant, whilst the true amateurs about me
were, for the most part, merely excited and duped, my
evidence may have a certain value when the question
comes up again for legislative consideration, as it assuredly
will some day.

The first competitions I attended were at the begin-
ning of the eighties, at Lillie Bridge, for the Queensberry
championships. There were but few competitors, in-
cluding a fair number of gentlemen ; and the style of
boxing aimed at was the " science " bequeathed from the
old prize ring by Ned Donnelly, a pupil of Nat Langham.

Modern Prizefighting 339

Langham had once defeated Sayers, and thereby taught
him the tactics by which he defeated Heenan. There
was as yet no special technique of glove fighting : the
traditions and influence of the old ring were unquestioned
and supreme ; and they distinctly made for brains, skill,
quickness, and mobility, as against brute violence, not at
all on moral grounds, but because experience had proved
that giants did not succeed in the ring under the old
rules, and that crafty middle-weights did.

This did not last long. The spectators did not want to
see skill defeating violence : they wanted to see violence
drawing blood and pounding its way to a savage and
exciting victory in the shortest possible time (the old
prizefight usually dragged on for hours, and was ended
by exhaustion rather than by victory). So did most of
the judges. And the public and the judges naturally
had their wish j for the competitors, as I have already
explained, soon discovered that the only way to make
sure of a favorable verdict was to "knock out" their
adversary. All pretence of sparring " for points " : that
is, for marks on an examination paper filled up by the
judges, and representing nothing but impracticable
academic pedantry in its last ditch, was dropped ; and
the competitions became frank fights, with abundance of
blood drawn, and "knock-outs" always imminent. Need-
less to add, the glove fight soon began to pay. The
select and thinly attended spars on the turf at Lillie Bridge
gave way to crowded exhibitions on the hard boards of
St. James's Hall. These were organized by the Boxing
Association ; and to them the provinces, notably Bir-
mingham, sent up a new race of boxers whose sole aim
was to knock their opponent insensible by a right-hand
blow on the jaw, knowing well that no Birmingham
man could depend on a verdict before a London audience
for any less undeniable achievement.

340 Cashel Byron's Profession

The final step was taken by an American pugilist.
He threw off the last shred of the old hypocrisy of the
gloved hand by challenging the whole world to produce
a man who could stand before him for a specified time
without being knocked out. His brief but glorious
career completely re-established pugilism by giving a
world -wide advertisement to the fact that the boxing
glove spares nothing but the public conscience, and that
as much ferocity, bloodshed, pain, and risk of serious
injury or death can be enjoyed at a glove fight as at an
old-fashioned prizefight, whilst the strain on the com-
batants is much greater. It is true that these horrors
are greatly exaggerated by the popular imagination, and
that if boxing were really as dangerous as bicycling, a
good many of its heroes would give it up from simple
fright ; but this only means that there is the maximum
of damage to the spectator by demoralization, combined
with the minimum of deterrent risk to the poor scrapper
in the ring.

Poor scrapper, though, is hardly the word for a
modern fashionable American pugilist. To him the
exploits of Cashel Byron will seem ludicrously obscure
and low-lived. The contests in which he engages are
like Handel Festivals : they take place in huge halls
before enormous audiences, with cinematographs hard at
work recording the scene for reproduction in London
and elsewhere. The combatants divide thousands of
dollars of gate - money between them : indeed, if an
impecunious English curate were to go to America and
challenge the premier pugilist, the spectacle of a match
between the Church and the Ring would attract a colossal
crowd ; and the loser's share of the gate would be a
fortune to a curate — assuming that the curate would be
the loser, which is by no means a foregone conclusion.
At all events, it would be well worth a bruise or two.

Modern Prizefighting 341

So my story of the Agricultural Hall, where William
Paradise sparred for half a guinea, and Cashel Byron stood
out for ten guineas, is no doubt read by the profession in
America with amused contempt. In 1882 it was, like
most of my conceptions, a daring anticipation of coming
social developments, though to-day it seems as far out of
date as Slender pulling Sackerson's chain.

Of these latter-day commercial developments of glove
fighting I know nothing beyond what I gather from the
newspapers. The banging matches of the eighties, in
which not one competitor in twenty either exhibited
artistic skill, or, in his efforts to knock out his adversary,
succeeded in anything but tiring and disappointing him-
self, were for the most part tedious beyond human endur-
ance. When, after wading through Boxiana and the
files of BelPs Life at the British Museum, I had written
Cashel Byron's Profession, I found I had exhausted the
comedy of the subject ; and as a game of patience or
solitaire was decidedly superior to an average spar for a
championship in point of excitement, I went no more to
the competitions. Since then six or seven generations of
boxers have passed into peaceful pursuits ; and I have no
doubt that my experience is in some respects out of date.
The National Sporting Club has arisen ; and though I
have never attended its reunions, I take its record of
three pugilists slain as proving an enormous multiplication
of contests, since such accidents are very rare, and in fact
do not happen to reasonably healthy men. I am prepared
to admit also that the disappearance of the old prize-ring
technique must by this time have been compensated by
the importation from America of a new glove-fighting
technique ; for even in a knocking- out match, brains
will try conclusions with brawn, and finally establish a
standard of skill ; but I notice that in the leading contests
in America luck seems to be on the side of brawn, and

342 Cashel Byron's Profession

brain frequently finishes in a state of concussion, a loser
after performing miracles of " science." I use the word
luck advisedly ; for one of the fascinations of boxing to
the gambler (who is the main pillar of the sporting world)
is that it is a game of hardihood, pugnacity and skill, all
at the mercy of chance. The knock-out itself is a pure
chance. I have seen two powerful laborers batter one
another's jaws with all their might for several rounds
apparently without giving one another as much as a
toothache. And I have seen a winning pugilist collapse
at a trifling knock landed by a fluke at the fatal angle.
I once asked an ancient prizefighter what a knock-out
was like when it did happen. He was a man of limited
descriptive powers ; so he simply pointed to the heavens
and said u Up in a balloon." An amateur pugilist, with
greater command of language, told me that "all the milk
in his head suddenly boiled over." I am aware that some
modern glove fighters of the American school profess to
have reduced the knock-out to a science. But the results
of the leading American combats conclusively discredit
the pretension. When a boxer so superior to his opponent
in skill as to be able practically to hit him where he
pleases not only fails to knock him out, but finally gets
knocked out himself, it is clear that the phenomenon is
as complete a mystery pugilistically as it is physiologically,
though every pugilist and every doctor may pretend to
understand it. It is only fair to add that it has not been
proved that any permanent injury to the brain results
from it. In any case the brain, as English society is
at present constituted, can hardly be considered a vital
organ.

This, to the best of my knowledge, is the technical
history of the modern revival of pugilism. It is only one
more example of the fact that legislators, like other
people, must learn their business by their own mistakes,

Modern Prizefighting 343

and that the first attempts to suppress an evil by law
generally intensify it. Prizefighting, though often con-
nived at, was never legal. Even in its palmiest days
prizefights were banished from certain counties by hostile
magistrates, just as they have been driven from the United
States and England to Belgium on certain occasions in
our own time. But as the exercise of sparring, conducted
by a couple of gentlemen with boxing gloves on, was
regarded as part of a manly physical education, a conven-
tion grew up by which it became practically legal to
make a citizen's nose bleed by a punch from the gloved
fist, and illegal to do the same thing with the naked
knuckles. A code of glove-fighting rules was drawn up
by a prominent patron of pugilism ; and this code was
practically legalized by the fact that even when a death
resulted from a contest under these rules the accessaries
were not punished. No question was raised as to whether
the principals were paid to fight for the amusement of
the spectators, or whether a prize for the winner was
provided in stakes, share of the gate, or a belt with the
title of champion. These, the true criteria of prize-
fighting, were ignored ; and the sole issue raised was
whether the famous dictum of Dr. Watts, " Your little
hands were never made, etc.," had been duly considered
by providing the said little hands with a larger hitting
surface, a longer range, and four ounces extra weight.

In short, then, what has happened has been the virtual
legalization of prizefighting under cover of the boxing
glove. And this is exactly what public opinion desires.
We do not like fighting ; but we like looking on at
fights : therefore we require a law which will punish the
prizefighter if he hits us, and secure us the protection of
the police whilst we sit in a comfortable hall and watch
him hitting another prizefighter. And that is just the
law we have got at present.

344 Cashel Byron's Profession

Thus Cashel Byron's plea for a share of the legal
toleration accorded to the vivisector has been virtually
granted since he made it. The legalization of cruelty
to domestic animals under cover of the anesthetic is only
the extreme instance of the same social phenomenon as
the legalization of prizefighting under cover of the boxing
glove. The same passion explains the fascination of
both practices ; and in both, the professors — pugilists and
physiologists alike — have to persuade the Home Office that
their pursuits are painless and beneficial. But there is
also between them the remarkable difference that the
pugilist, who has to suffer as much as he inflicts, wants
his work to be as painless and harmless as possible whilst
persuading the public that it is thrillingly dangerous and
destructive, whilst the vivisector wants to enjoy a total
exemption from humane restrictions in his laboratory
whilst persuading the public that pain is unknown there.
Consequently the vivisector is not only crueller than the
prizefighter, but, through the pressure of public opinion,
a much more resolute and uncompromising liar. For
this no one but a Pharisee will single him out for special
blame. All public men lie, as a matter of good taste,
on subjects which are considered serious (in England a
serious occasion means simply an occasion on which
nobody tells the truth) ; and however illogical or capri-
cious the point of honor may be in man, it is too absurd
to assume that the doctors who, from among innumer-
able methods of research, select that of tormenting
animals hideously, will hesitate to come on a platform
and tell a soothing fib to prevent the public from punish-
ing them. No criminal is expected to plead guilty,
or to refrain from pleading not guilty with all the
plausibility at his command. In prizefighting such men-
dacity is not necessary : on the contrary, if a famous
pugilist were to assure the public that a blow delivered

Modern Prizefighting 345

with a boxing glove could do no injury and cause no
pain, and the public believed him, the sport would in-
stantly lose its following. It is the prizefighter's interest
to abolish the real cruelties of the ring and to exaggerate
the imaginary cruelties of it. It is the vivisector's interest
to refine upon the cruelties of the laboratory, whilst per-
suading the public that his victims pass into a delicious
euthanasia and leave behind them a row of bottles con-
taining infallible cures for all the diseases. Just so, too,
does the trainer of performing animals assure us that his
dogs and cats and elephants and lions are taught their
senseless feats by pure kindness.

The public, as Julius Caesar remarked nearly 2OOO
years ago, believes, on the whole, just what it wants
to believe. The laboring masses do not believe the
false excuses of the vivisector, because they know that
the vivisector experiments on hospital patients; and
the masses belong to the hospital patient class. The
well-to-do people who do not go to hospitals, and who
think they benefit by the experiments made there, believe
the vivisectors' excuses, and angrily abuse and denounce
the anti-vivisectors. The people who "love animals,"
who keep pets, and stick pins through butterflies, support
the performing dog people, and are sure that kindness
will teach a horse to waltz. And the people who enjoy
a fight will persuade themselves that boxing gloves do
not hurt, and that sparring is an exercise which teaches
self-control and exercises all the muscles in the body more
efficiently than any other.

My own view of prizefighting may be gathered from
Cashel Byron's Profession, and from the play written by
me more than ten years later, entitled Mrs Warren's
Profession. As long as society is so organized that the
destitute athlete and the destitute beauty are forced to
choose between underpaid drudgery as industrial pro-

346 Cashel Byron's Profession

ducers, and comparative self-respect, plenty, and popu-
larity as prizefighters and mercenary brides, licit or
illicit, it is idle to affect virtuous indignation at their
expense. The word prostitute should either not be
used at all, or else applied impartially to all persons
who do things for money that they would not do if they
had any other assured means of livelihood. The evil
caused by the prostitution of the Press and the Pulpit
is so gigantic that the prostitution of the prize ring,
which at least makes no serious moral pretensions, is
comparatively negligeable by comparison. Let us not
forget, however, that the throwing of a hard word such
as prostitution does not help the persons thus vituperated
out of their difficulty. If the soldier and gladiator fight
for money, if men and women marry for money, if the
journalist and novelist write for money, and the parson
preaches for money, it must be remembered that it is
an exceedingly difficult and doubtful thing for an indi-
vidual to set up his own scruples or fancies (he cannot
himself be sure which they are) against the demand of
the community when it says, Do thus and thus, or starve.
It was easy for Ruskin to lay down the rule of dying
rather than doing unjustly ; but death is a plain thing;
justice a very obscure thing. How is an ordinary man
to draw the line between right and wrong otherwise than
by accepting public opinion on the subject ; and what
more conclusive expression of sincere public opinion can
there be than market demand ? Even when we repudiate
that and fall back on our private judgment, the matter
gathers doubt instead of clearness. The popular notion
of morality and piety is to simply beg all the most im-
portant questions in life for other people ; but when these
questions come home to ourselves, we suddenly discover
that the devil's advocate has a stronger case than we
thought : we remember that the way of righteousness or

Modern Prizefighting 347

death was the way of the Inquisition ; that hell is paved,
not with bad intentions, but with good ones ; that the
deeper seers have suggested that the way to save your
soul is perhaps to give it away, casting your spiritual bread
on the waters, so to speak. No doubt, if you are a man
of genius, a Ruskin or an Ibsen, you can divine your
way and finally force your passage. If you have the
conceit of fanaticism you can die a martyr like Charles I.
If you are a criminal, or a gentleman of independent
means, you can leave society out of the question and prey
on it. But if you are an ordinary person you take your
bread as it comes to you, doing whatever you can make
most money by doing. And you are really shewing your-
self a disciplined citizen and acting with perfect social
propriety in so doing. Society may be, and generally is,
grossly wrong in its offer to you ; and you may be, and
generally are, grossly wrong in supporting the existing
political structure ; but this only means, to the successful
modern prizefighter, that he must reform society before
he can reform himself. A conclusion which I recom-
mend to the consideration of those foolish misers of
personal righteousness who think they can dispose of
social problems by bidding reformers of society reform
themselves first.

Practically, then, the question raised is whether fight-
ing with gloves shall be brought, like cockfighting, bear-
baiting, and gloveless fist fighting, explicitly under the
ban of the law. I do not propose to argue that question
out here. But of two things I am certain. First, that
glove fighting is quite as fierce a sport as fist fighting.
Second, that if an application were made to the Borough
Council of which I am a member, to hire the Town
Hall for a boxing competition, I should vote against the
applicants.

This second point being evidently the practical one,

348 Cashel Byron's Profession

I had better give my reason. Exhibition pugilism is
essentially a branch of Art : that is to say, it acts and
attracts by propagating feeling. The feeling it propa-
gates is pugnacity. Sense of danger, dread of danger,
impulse to batter and destroy what threatens and opposes,
triumphant delight in succeeding : this is pugnacity, the
great adversary of the social impulse to live and let live ;
to establish our rights by shouldering our share of the
social burden ; to face and examine danger instead of
striking at it ; to understand everything to the point of
pardoning (and righting) everything ; to conclude an
amnesty with Nature wide enough to include even those
we know the worst of : namely, ourselves. If two men
quarrelled, and asked the Borough Council to lend them
a room to fight it out in with their fists, on the ground
that a few minutes hearty punching of one another's
heads would work ofF their bad blood and leave them
better friends, each desiring, not victory, but satisfaction,
I am not sure that I should not vote for compliance. But
if a syndicate of showmen came and said, Here we have
two men who have no quarrel, but who will, if you pay
them, fight before your constituency and thereby make a
great propaganda of pugnacity in it, sharing the profits,
with us and with you, I should indignantly oppose the pro-
position. And if the majority were against me, I should
try to persuade them to at least impose the condition that
the fight should be with naked fists under the old rules,
so that the combatants should, like Sayers and Langham,
depend on bunging up each other's eyes rather than,
like the modern knocker-out, giving one another con-
cussion of the brain.

I may add, finally, that the present halting between
the legal toleration and suppression of commercial pugil-
ism is much worse than the extreme of either, because it
takes away the healthy publicity and sense of responsi-

Modern Prizefighting 349

bility which legality and respectability give, without
suppressing the blackguardism which finds its opportunity
in shady pursuits. I use the term commercial advisedly.
Put a stop to boxing for money ; and pugilism will give
society no further trouble.

LONDON, 1901.

THE END

Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh

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PR Shaw, Bernard

5365 Cashel Boon's profession

G3 C2d rev. ed.D

1905

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