CHAPTER XXIX.

A REVELATION.

'There are men whose manners have the same essential splendour as the simple and awful sculpture on the friezes of the Parthenon and the remains of the earliest Greek art.'

LIONEL walked through the noisy streets of the City in the silent anguish of despair, his heart beating with suppressed excitement; he was hardly roused to consciousness of passing objects or human contact by the touch of Reginald's arm on his as he met him at the corner of Fenchurch-street, and who fixed his eyes intently on his friend as they turned away arm-in-arm together.

'Have you seen Hilliard ?' asked Reginald, breathlessly awaiting an

answer.

There was a pause, in which Lionel was battling to regain his self-control, and Reginald saw that he was shaken to the very depths of his ardent nature, and knew that, in spite of his calmness, his languor, his universal contempt, the fire had been always there. Reginald read its existence in the deep red colour that now suffused his cheek and brow.

'You were right,' he said briefly; 'this is the severest blow I have had in my commercial career; he must have meant to ruin me all along.'

'Won't he propose anything, or make any suggestion? Does he deliberately refuse to renew the bills?'

'He refuses to entertain any proposal. His manner is entirely

altered, very reticent-" other friends may assist," "balances light," " ," "must take care of himself." I know their jargon well: when a man wants assistance most is the time he gets a cold refusal.'

His face was quivering with anger and pain, and an indescribable mingling of other emotions, a bitter sense of resentment against his cousin momentarily increasing.

'Perhaps Heath could come forward at this crisis. You saved him once, you know.'

Lionel glanced quickly at Reginald, the pain on his face deepening to sternness.

'I prefer to stand or fall alone,' he said quietly, and as they are all comfortably settled again, it would be selfish to involve them in any way. Besides, Heath's assistance would be but as a drop in the ocean. I want to get at something else I want to find out the man's reason for acting so dishonourably. He has one. I'm quite sure he bears me an awful grudge for something or other, but what it is I'm hanged if I know.'

Reginald was silent; he was wondering what other resources could be found.

'I believe if I went to old Paul Lazarus, of Winch-street, and explained the business on hand, he would come forward.'

'Leave him for the last. I'm not too fond of Jews. The blow cannot fall for a few days; in the mean time I mean to unearth this mystery-this odd complication. My dear fellow, we mustn't look so serious. You're ghastly pale, Regi

nald; are you in the plot, too? Ah, we must not carry misfortune on our faces, or the hawks and vultures will be flocking around us ere nightfall.'

Reginald gave him a quick, upturned glance, and saw that his face had lost its sternness, and wore a cynical expression. Was he suspecting the truth at last? What mocking spirit looked at him through those dark fiery eyes?

And so this will be the end, this my reward,' he muttered, 'after all my labour and struggles. To have my name dragged through the mire at last; to be spoken of as a broken merchant. Pride, hopes, ambition, all gone! When you pawned your coat in Brooklyn for eighteenpence, Reginald, how did you feel?'

'Deuced chilly till you redeemed it,' said Reginald, with a bitter laugh, taking out a cigarette, and lighting it; but I had grown used to misery-we were more than old acquaintances; she was my familiar friend and counsellor. D'ye remember how you found me crying from weakness, and sitting under a hedge like a tramp? They wanted me to die abroad; so much for breed and an old name. drove the devil out of me, Lionel. I've you to thank for everything. I know I cannot be of any service to you now, even if I pawned my body and soul; but I long to serve you in some way or other; if it were even to the extent of putting a bullet through Hilliard's brains, I'd do it.'

You

• Find out his motive first; some under-current is, I am sure, at work. I fancy you have an inkling -you're a fine metaphysicianyou looked so pale when I hinted at one just now.'

Reginald shook his head, lifting a piece of orange-peel off the pavement with the end of his stick. VOL. XXXI.

This was approaching dangerous ground.

'I shall go home,' said Lionel, pausing to hail a hansom; 'you go back to the office and see to things. My poor darling, my wife, when I think of the sorrow in store for her-that I cannot give her such a home as she has been accustomed to; hardly, perhaps, a bare sustenance-I fancy the devil that was driven out of you has taken possession of me. How will she bear it? and I bought her such a splendid horse only this very morning.'

'She will be just as happy in a cottage, Lionel; she has a brave heart,' said Reginald, his eyes moistening; there is both truth and nobility in my niece Gwendoline.'

Both men shook hands warmly ere Lionel sprang into the hansom. Reginald walked slowly away towards the office, Black Care on his shoulder.

'When he learns the truth,' he muttered, 'God help the child; he will think she has deceived him, and it will break his heart-and hers-for he will never forgive.'

And during that drive homewards, of what did Lionel muse? On the fate of the thousands whom he had often pitied-those who were failures-who had struggled hard in the teeth of heavy difficulties, only to be swamped at the last; disappointed, embittered, wretched men, who, after being masters, had to turn clerks for a living, and buried themselves in out-of-the-way stuccoed villas in some dingy fringe of suburb. Men who, if they failed to please, or resented insults, knew there were a hundred half-starving creatures ready to do the work cheaper, and sometimes better, than they did. He saw the dim, sad, shadowy host of these living spectres of failure at his elbow; he pictured their children, neglected, untrained;

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their wives dying under the strain, or changed into viragoes by suffering; and themselves maddened by defeat. No wonder that they turned to drink ere seeking the grave or the asylum; no wonder, with hearts and hopes slowly withering, they cursed the evil fate that begrudged them their peace of mind, their comfortable balances, their luxurious home, and the respect of their fellow-men. Must

he too join this dull hopeless crowd with their vies manquées, their petty cares, their buried aspirations, and endless toil and servitude?

And there came a more painful dread that, to the proud noble spirit of the man, if carried into effect, must surpass the bitterness of death itself. What of the men who, through him, must suffer? Must they, too, later on join the pale holocaust of victims ?

And he knew that henceforth for him, and such as him, the best taste would be shown in seeking obscurity for ever.

Lionel found his wife in the garden when he returned; he went towards her and threw himself down in the bright green grass at her feet, as she rested her hand on his head.

'How it burns!' she said, looking down at him, surprised at his manner, with that veiled tenderness which is conveyed in every gesture and glance. 'Lionel, are you not well to-day?'

'I've had a blow,' he said, taking her other hand and pressing it to his forehead. 'I've come to the darling I love, to my wifie, for comfort. Dear, it is better I should prepare you. I fear that I am ruined!'

Ruined! There darted through her mind the memory of her father's words the morning after the ball, when he implied as much, and entreated her to save him. Then she had laid bare the secret of

her heart, and begged for mercy for herself and those young hopes that had died an early death, for change is the law of nature. Then had it seemed so hard to resign a love which she fancied must rule her life to the end; but now everything had imperceptibly altered: it was Lionel, her beloved husband, who was dear to her. And the commencement of this growth of love had been unmarked by any startling signs; she herself had hardly suspected its real force till now; it was like some exquisite wonderflower that had sprung from bud to blossom without her guessing the stirring of the sap within-the workings of the hidden, unseen life.

As if by an impulse their lips met, and she bent over him and was clasped in his arms.

'How-how has it all happened?' she asked nervously, and Valentine's vindictive menace rang in her ears again with crushing significance; surely he had not been base enough to keep his word, to fulfil those threats?

'Some Chinese merchants, Messrs. Amberley, Brimber, & Co., cannot meet their acceptances falling due in a few weeks, and worst of all, Valentine Hilliard won't renew them, or assist me in any way. I'm driven to my wits' end to know what to do.'

Gwendoline rose, pale and trembling. It was awful! Her worst fears were realised. Ought she to have confessed the truth to Lionel, and so put him on his guard against an enemy? For a moment it seemed as if she must tell him all, and an intense longing rushed over her to make a sudden full confession. Words had often risen to her lips which, if once spoken, might have saved this dreadful fate overtaking her husband, but she feared lest by any avowal or disclosure of the painful circumstances his love should be