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On this Page 11
B GEORGETTE HEYER
ILLUSTRATED BY BOOTHRQYD
Troom which Arabella and
& unthorpe entered looked
over a filthy yard, where lean
(. prowled amongst garbage
heaps Small and dark, it was furn
ished th a sagging bed pushed up
again ; one wall, a deal table, two
wood("i chairs, and a strip of thread
bare i arpet.
A hunk of cheese, together with a
glass, jug, and an empty bottle
sti the table.
Iii am, who was stretched on the
bed, raised himself on his elbow as
the door opened, an apprehensive
look o his face. He looked ill and
unkempt, and when he saw Arabella
he uf ed something like a sob, and
struggled to his feet. "Bella!"
a in his arms on the word,
unable to prevent herself from burst
ing into tears, passionately clasping
him to her. His breath reeked of
spirits, but although this shocked her,
she only hugged him more tightly.
"You should not have come," he
said unsteadily. "Felix, how could
you have brought her here?"
"Warned her she wouldn't like
it," Mr. Scunthorpe excused himself,
let on seeing you."
Bertram gave a groan. "I did not
mean you to know."
She disengaged herself, wiped her
tears away, and sat down on one of
the chairs.
"Bertram, you know that is non
sense," she said. "Whom should you
turn to if not to me? I am so sorry t
What you must have suffered in this
dreadful house!"
"Pretty, ain't it?" he said jeer
ingl-- "I don't know how I came
here. Peg brought me. You may as
«eil know, Bella, I was so foxed I
don't remember anything that hap
pi ed after I left the Red Lion!"
"No, I quite see," she said. "But,
Bertram, pray do not go on drinking,
h is all so bad, and that makes it
e. You look sadly out of sorts,
and no wonder! We must think what
is to be done. Only tell me what you
owe!" He did not w*nt to divulge
the sum, but she insisted, and after
little while he blurted out: "It
omes to more than seven hundred
pounds! There is no possiblity of
my being able to get clear!"
She was aghast. The sum seemed
vast beyond belief, so that she could
not be surprised when Bertram, cast
ing himself into the other chair, be
gan to talk in a wild way of putting
an end to his life. She let him run
on, guessing that his despair needed
the relief of such mad outpourings,
and having no very real fear that
he would carry out his violent
threats.
While he talked she cudgelled her
brains for a solution, only lending
half an ear to him, but patting his
hand soothingly from time to time.
Mr. Scunthorpe intervened at last,
saying with great commonsense,
"Don't think you ought to jump in
the river, dear old boy. Sister
wouldn't like it. Bound to leak out.
Your governor might not like it,
either!"
"No, indeed!" Arabella said. "You
must not talk of it any more, Ber
tram. You know how wicked it
would be!"
"Well, I suppose I shan't kill my
self," Bertram said, a shade sulkily.
"Only, I can tell you this: I'll never
face my father with this!"
"No, no!" she agreed. "Seven
hundred pounds! Bertram, how has
it been possible?"
"I lost six hundred at faro," he
said, dropping his head in his hands.
"The rest?well, there was the tailor,
and the horse I hired, and betting
debts, and my shot at the inn?oh,
a dozen things! Bella, what am I
to do?"
"Bills don't signify," pronounced
Mr. Scunthorpe. "Leave town;
won't be followed. Not been living
under your own name. Gaming debts
another matter. Got to raise the
wind for that. Debt of honor."
"I know it, curse you!"
"But all debts are debts of honor,"
Arabella said. "Indeed, you should
pay your bills first of all."
A glance passed between the two
gentlemen, indicative of their mutual
agreement not to w?ste breath in
arguing with a female on a subject
she would clearly never understand.
Bertram passed his hand over his
brow, heaving a short sigh.
"There's only one thing to be
done," he said. "I have thought it
all over, Bella, and I mean to enlist
under a false name. I should have
done it yesterday, only there's some
thing I must do first. Affair of
honor. I shall write to my father,
of course, and I daresay he will
utterly cast me off, but that can't
be helped!"
"How can you say so?" Arabella
cried hotly. "Grieved he must be?
oh, I dare not even think of it!?
but you must know that never, never
would he do such an unchristian
thing as to cast you off! Oh, do not
write to him yet. Give me time to
think what I must do."
"There's nothing else to do, Bella,"
he said. "The army is all I'm fit
for, and I cannot show my face again
with a load of debt hanging over me.
Particularly a debt of honor. Oh,
heavens, I think I must have been
mad!" His voice broke, and he could
not speak for a moment.
In the end he contrived to sum
mon up the travesty of a smile, and
to say, "Pretty pair, ain't we? Not
that you did anything wrong as I
have."
"Oh, I have behaved so dread
fully," she exclaimed. "It is even
my fault that you are reduced to
these straits! Had I never presented
you to Lord Wivcnhoe-"
"That's fudge," he said quickly.
"I had been to gaming houses before
PART NINE OF A TEN-PART SERIAL
I met him. I ought not to have
gone with him to the Nonesuch.
Only I had lost money on a race,
and I thought-"
"Bertram, who won your money
at the Nonesuch?" she asked.
"The bank. It was faro."
"Yes, but someone holds the
bank! Who was it?"
"The Nonpareil."
She stared at him. "Mr. Beau
maris?" she gasped. He nodded.
"Oh, no, do not say so! How could
he have let you?no, no, Bertram!"
She sounded so much distressed
that he was puzzled. "Why shouldn't
he?"
"You are only a boy! He must
have known! And to accept notes
of hand from you! Surely he might
have refused to do so!"
"You don't understand," he said
impatiently. "I went there with
ChufFy, so why should he refuse to
let me play?"
Mr. Scunthorpe nodded. "Very
awkward situation, ma'am. Devilish
insulting to refuse a man's vowels."
She could not appreciate the
niceties of the code evidently shared
by both men, but she could accept
that they must obtain in male circles.
"I must think it wrong of him,"
she said. "But never mind! The
thing is that he is?that I am par
ticularly acquainted with him! Don't
be in despair, Bertram. I am per
suaded that if I were to go to him,
explain that you are not of age,
and not a rich man's son, he will
forgive the debt."
She broke off, for there was no
mistaking the expressions of shocked
disapprobation in both Bertram's and
Mr. Scunthorpe's faces.
"Good heavens, Bella, what will
you say next!"
"But, Bertram, indeed he is not
proud and disagreeable, as so many
people think him! I?I have found
him particular kind and obliging!"
"Bella, this is a debt of honor! If
it takes me my life to do it, I must
pay it, and so I shall tell him."
Mr. Scunthorpe nodded judicial
approval of this derision.
"Spend your life paying six hun
none Help
With a start, Arabella turned from studying the marbles.
"Mr. Beaumaris, what a lucky chance," her godmother was
saying delightedly.
dred pounds to a man who is so
wealthy that I dare say he regards
it no more than you would a shill
ing?" cried Arabella. "Why, it is
absurd!"
Bertram looked despairingly at his
friend. Mr. Scunthorpe said pains
takingly. "Nothing to do with it,
ma'am. Debt of honor is a debt of
honor. No getting away from that."
"I cannot agree! I own I do not
like to do it, but I could do it, and
I know he would never refuse me!"
Bertram grasped her wrist. "Listen,
Bella! If you dared to do such a
thing I swear you'd never see my
face again! Besides, even if he did
tear up my vowels I should still
think myself under an obligation to
redeem them. Next you will be sug
gesting that you should ask him to
pay those tradesmen's bills for me."
She colored guiltily, for some such
idea had crossed her mind.
"I shall think of something," she
said. "I know I shall contrive to
help you. Only please, please do
not enlist, Bertram! Not yet! Only
if I should fail!"
"What do you mean to do?" he
demanded. "I shan't enlist until I
have seen Mr. Beaumaris, and?and
explained to him how it is! That I
must do. I?I told him I had no
funds in London, and should be ob
liged to send into Yorkshire for
them, so he asked me to call at his
house on Thursday."
He added sulkily, "It is no use to
look at me like that, Bella! I couldn't
tell him I was done-up, and had no
means of paying him, with them all
there, listening to what we were say
ing. Bella, have you any money?"
She thrust her purse into his hand.
"Yes, yes, of course! If only I had
not bought these gloves, and the
shoes, and the new scarf. There are
only ten guineas left, but it will be
enough to make you more comfort
able until I have thought how to help
you, won't it? Do, do remove from
this dreadful house! I saw quite a
number of inns on our way, and
some of them looked respectable!"
It was plain that Bertram would
be only too ready to change his
quarters, and, after a brief dispute,
in which he was very glad to be
worsted, he took the purse, gave her
a hug, and said that she was the
best sister in the world.
Mr. Scunthorpe, prefixing his re
mark with one of his deprecating
coughs, suggested that as the hack
ney had been told to wait for them,
he and Miss Tallant ought, per
haps, to be taking their leave.
Arabella was inclined to go at
once in search of a suitable hostelry
for Bertram, but she was earnestly
dissuaded, Mr. Scunthorpe promising
to see to this matter himself. The
brother and sister then parted, cling
ing to each other in such a moving
way that Mr. Scunthorpe was much
affected by the sight.
Please turn to page 30

jp^ J Q_ 0 1 1 Q, Continued from page II

o

N returning to

Park Street, Arabella's first
action was to run up to her
bedchamber, and, without
pausing to remove her bonnet,
to sit down at the little table

in the window, and prepare to

write a letter.

But, in spite of the evident
urgency of the matter, she had
no sooner written her opening
words than all inspiration ap
peared to desert her, and she
sat staring out of the window,

while the ink dried on her
pen.

At last she drew a breath,
dipped the pen in the standish
again, and resolutely wrote two
lines. Then she stopped, read
them over, tore up the paper,

and drew a fresh sheet towards
her.

It was some time before she
had achieved a result that
satisfied her, but it was done at
last, and the letter sealed up
with a wafer. She then rang
the bell pull, and upon a
housemaid's coming in answer
to the summons, desired the
girl to send Becky to her, if
she could be spared from her

duties.

When Becky presently ap
peared, shyly smiling, Arabella
held out the letter.

"If you please, Becky," she
said, "do you think you could
contrive to slip out and?and
carry that to Mr. Beaumaris'
house? You might say that
I have asked you to go on an
errand for me, but?but I shall
be very much obliged if you
will not disclose to anyone

what it is!"

"Oh, miss!" breathed the
handmaid, scenting a romance,
"as though I would say a word
to a living soul!"

"Thank you! If?if Mr.
Beaumaris should be at home,
I should be glad if you would

wait for an answer."

Mr. Beaumaris returned to
his London house in time to
partake of a late breakfast on
Tuesday morning, having been
absent for six days instead of
a full week, as his staff had
expected.

But as he rarely gave any
positive information on his
movements, counted no cost,
and had accustomed his highly
paid servants to live in a con
stant state of expectation of
being obliged, at a moment's
notice, to provide suitable en
tertainment for himself, or for

a score of guests, his prema
ture arrival caused no dismay.

One member of his house

hold displayed a degree of joy
bordering on delirium. A
ragged little mongrel, whose
jauntily curled tail had been
clipped unhappily between his
legs for six interminable days,
and who had spent the major
part of this time curled into a
ball on the rug outside his
master's door, refusing all sus
tenance, came tumbling down
the stairs, uttering canine

shrieks.

He then summoned up
enough strength to career
madly round in circles before
collapsing in an exhausted,
panting heap at Mr. Beau
maris' feet.

It spoke volumes

for the light in which Mr.

Beaumaris' whims were re

garded by his retainers that

the condition to which his dis

reputable protege had wilfully
reduced himself brought every

member of the household who

might have been considered
responsible into the hall to

exonerate himself from all
blame.

Even M. Alphonse mounted

the stairs from his basement
kingdom to describe to Mr.
Beaumaris in detail the chicken

broth, the ragout of rabbit, the
shin of beef, and the marrow
bone with which he had tried

to tempt Ulysses' vanished
appetite.

Brough broke Sn on his
Gallic monologue to assure Mr.
Beaumaris that he had left
nothing undone to restore
Ulysses' interest in life, even

going to the lengths of import
ing a stray cat into the house,
in the hope of galvanising to
activitiy one notoriously un
sympathetic towards all felines.

Painswick, with a smug air
that rendered him instantly
odious to his colleagues, drew
attention to the fact that he
had conceived the happy no
tion of giving Ulysses one of
Mr. Beaumaris' gloves to
guard.

Mr. Beaumaris, who had
picked Ulysses up, paid no
heed to all these attempts at
self-justification, but addressed

himself to his adorer.

"What a fool you are!" he
observed. "No. I have the

greatest dislike of having my
face licked, and must request
you to refrain. Quiet, Ulysses,
quiet! I am grateful to you for
your solicitude, but you must
perceive that I am in the en
joyment of my customary good
health. I would I could say the
same of you."

He eyed the dog regretfully.
"You have once more reduced
yourself to skin and bone, my
friend, a process which I shall
take leave to inform you I
consider as unjust as it is ridi
culous. Anyone setting eyes
on you would suppose that I
grudged you even the scraps
from my table."

Without the slightest change
of voice, and without raising
his eyes from the creature in
his arms he added: "You
would also appear to have be
reft my household of its
senses, so that the greater part
of it, instead of providing me
with the breakfast I stand in
need of, is engaged in excusing
itself from any suspicion of

none Help

"But why don't we be perfectly candid and ju*t say it

might rain and then again it might not?'

blame, and?I may add?doing
itself no good thereby."

Ulysses, to whom the mere

sound of Mr. Beaumaris' voice

was ecstasy, looked adoringly
up into his face, and contrived

to lick the hand that was

caressing him. On his servants,
Mr. Beaumaris' voice operated
in quite another fashion.

They dispersed rapidly,
Painswick to lay out a complete
change of raiment; Brough to

set the table in the breakfast

parlor; Alphonse to carve at
lightning speed several slices
of a fine York ham, and to
cast eggs and herbs into a pan.

Mr. Beaumaris tucked Ulys
ses under one arm, picked up
the pile of letters from the
table in the hall, and strolled
with them into the library. To
the zealous young footm m who
hastened to fling open the door
for him, he said: "Food for
this abominable animal!"

This command, relayed
swiftly to the kitchen, caused

M. Alphonsc to command his
chief assistant instantly to
abandon his allotted task, and
to prepare a dish calculated to
revive the most flagging
appetite.

Mr. Beaumaris, tossing a
pile of invitations and bills
aside, came upon a billet which
had not been delivered through
the medium of the Penny Po

and which was superscribed,
Urgent. The writing, certain!-,
feminine, was unknown to him.

"Now, what have we here,
Ulysses?" he said, breaking the

wafer.

They had not very much.

"Dear Mr. Beaumaris," ran
the missive, "I should be ver\
much obliged to you if you

would do me the honor of

calling in Park Street as soon
as may be convenient to you.
and requesting the butler

inform me of the event. I

remain. Ever yours most sin
cerely, Arabella Tallant."

Please turn to page 34

TCI b © 11 Cl Continued from page

30

This model of the

epistolary art, which had
caused Miss Tallant so much
heart searching and so many
ruined sheets of hot-pressed
notepaper, did not fail of its

effect. Mr. Beaumaris cast
aside the rest of his correspon
dence, set Ulysses down on the
Hoor, and bent his full mind
to the interpretation of these

few words.

He was still engaged on this
task when Brough entered the

room to announce that his
breakfast awaited him. He
carried the letter into the par
lor and propped it against the
coffee pot, feeling that he had
not yet got to the bottom of it.

At his feet Ulysses, repairing
with enthusiasm the ravages of
his protracted fast, was rapidly
consuming a meal which might
have been judged excessive for
the satisfaction of the appetite

of a boa constrictor.

"This," said Mr. Beaumaris,
"was delivered here three days
ago, Ulysses!"

Ulysses, whose keen olfac
tory sense had discovered the
chicken giblets cunningly hid
den in the middle of his plate,
could spare no more than a
perfunctory wag of the tail for
this speech; and to Mr. Beau
maris' subsequent demand to
know what could be in the
wind he returned no answer
at all.

Mr. Beaumaris pushed
away the remains of his break
fast, a gesture which was
shortly to operate alarmingly
on the sensibilities of the artist
below stairs, and waved aside
his valet, who had just entered

the room.

"My town dress!" he said.

"I have it ready, sir," re
sponded Painswick, with dig
nity. "There was just one mat
ter which I should perhaps

mention."

"Not now," said Mr. Beau
maris, his eyes still bent upon
Miss Tallant's tantalising com

munication.

Painswick bowed, and with
drew. The matter was not, in
his fastidious estimation, of
sufficient importance to justify
him in intruding upon his em
ployer's evident preoccupa
tion; nor did he broach it
when Mr. Beaumaris presently
came upstairs to change.

This further abstention was
due, however, more to the
sense of irretrievable loss which
had invaded his soul on the
discovery that a shirt was miss
ing from Mr. Beaumaris' exe
crably packed portmanteau
than from a respect for his

master's abstraction.

He confined his conversation
to bitter animadversions on
the morals of inn servants, and
the depths of depravity to
which some unknown boots
had sunk in treating Mr. Beau
maris' second best pair of Hes
sians with a blacking fit only
to be used on the footwear of
country squires.

He could hardly flatter him
self that Mr. Beaumaris, swiftly
and skilfully arranging the
folds of his neckcloth in the
mirror, paid the least heed to

his discourse, but it served in
some measure to relieve his
lacerated feelings.

Leaving his valet to repair
the damage to his wardrobe,

and his faithful admirer to
sleep off the effects of a gar
gantuan meal, Mr. Beaumaris

left the house and walked to
Park Street.

Here he was met by the in
telligence that my lord, my
lady, and Miss Tallant had
gone out in the barouche to
the British Museum, where
Lord Elgin's much disputed
marbles were now being ex
hibited in a wooden shed built
for their accommodation.

Mr. Beaumaris thanked the
butler, called up a passing
hackney, and directed the jar
vey to drive him to Great Rus
sell Street.

He found Miss Tallant, her
disinterested gaze fixed upon a
sculptured slab, enduring a lec
ture from Lord Bridlington
quite in his element. It was
Lady Bridlington who first
saw him approaching.

"Mr. Beaumaris!" she ex
claimed in delight, "What a
lucky chance, to be sure! How
do you do? How came you not

to be at the Kirkmichaels'

Venetian Breakfast yesterday?
Such a charming party! I am
persuaded you must have en
joyed it! Six hundred guests?
only fancy!"

"Amongst so many, ma'am,
I am flattered to know that you
remarked my absence," re
sponded Mr. Beaumaris, shak
ing hands. "I have been out of
town for some days, and only
just returned. Miss Tallant!
'Servant, Bridlington!"

Beaumaris' name, Arabella
turned with a start from

studying the marbles. She took
his hand in a clasp which
seemed to him slightly convul
sive, and raised a pair of
strained, inquiring eyes to his

face.

He smiled reassuringly down,
into them, and bent a courte
ous ear to Lady Bridlington,
who was making haste to as

sure him that she had come to

the Museum merely to show
the Grecian treasures to Ara
bella.

"Do you care to visit Som
erset House with us?" she
ended rather hastily. "Ara
bella, my love, I dare say you
are quite tired of staring at
all these sadly damaged bits
of frieze, and will be glad to
look at pictures for a change!"

Arabella assented to it,
throwing so beseeching a look

at Mr. Beaumaris that he was
induced to accept a seat in the
barouche.

During the drive to the
Strand, Lady Bridlington was
too much occupied in catching
the eyes of chance acquain
tances, and drawing their at
tention to the distinguished
occupant of one of the back
seats by bowing and waving to
them, to have much time for
conversation.

Arabella sat there with her

eyes downcast, and her hand

PON hearing Mr.

none Help

"Here'* a eate of real gratitude. Man lernet £20,000
to woman who refuted to marry him 50 yeart ago."

fidgeting with the riband tied

round the handle of her sun
shade; and Mr. Beaumaris was
content to watch her, taking
due note of her pallor and the
dark shadows beneath her eyes.

It was left to Lord Bridling
ton to entertain the company,
which he did very willingly,
prosing uninterruptedly until
the carriage turned into the
courtyard of Somerset House.

Once inside the building,
Lady Bridlington seized the
first opportunity that offered
of drawing her son away
from the interesting pair. She

stated her fervent desire to see
some fashionable masterpiece
and bore him off to discover
it for her.

"In what way can I serve
you, Miss Tallant?" said Mr.
Beaumaris quietly.

"You?you had my letter?"
faltered Arabella, glancing
fleetingly up into his face.

"This morning. I went in
stantly to Park Street, and
apprehending that the matter
was of some urgency followed
you to Bloomsbury."

"How kind?how very kind
you are!" uttered Arabella, in
accents which could scarcely
have been more mournful had
she discovered him to have
been a monster of cruelty.

"What is it, Miss Tallant?"
Bearing all the appearance
of one rapt in admiration of
the canvas before her, she
said: "I dare say you may have
forgotten about it, sir, but ?
but you told me once?that is,
you were so obliging as to say
?that if my sentiments under
went a change?"

Mr. Beaumaris mercifully
intervened to put an end to her

embarrassment.

"I have certainly not forgot
ten it," he said. "I percieve
Lady Charnwood to be
approaching, so let us move on.
Am I to understand, ma'am,
that your sentiments have
undergone a change?"

"Yes," Miss Tallant replied
baldly.

"My surroundings," said
Mr. Beaumaris, "make it im
possible for me to do more
than assure you that you have

made me the happiest man in
England, ma'am."

"Thank you," said Arabella
in a stifled tone. "I shall try
to be a?to be a conformable
wife, sir."

Mr. Beaumaris' lips twitched,
but he replied with perfect
gravity: "For my part, I shall
try to be an unexceptional
husband, ma'am."

"Oh, yes, I am sure you will
be!" said Arabella naively. "If
only-"

"If only-" prompted Mr.
Beaumaris, as she broke off.

"Nothing," she said hastily.
"Oh, dear, there is Mr. Ep
worth."

"A common bow in passing
will be enough to damp his
pretensions," said Mr. Beau
maris. "If that does not suf

fice, I will look at him through
my glass."

This made her give an in
voluntary gurgle of laughter,
bot an instant latex she was

serious again, and evidently
struggling to find the words
with which to express herself.

"What very awkward places
we do choose to propose to
one another!" remarked Mr.

Beaumaris, guiding her gently
towards a red-plush couch.
"Let us hope that if we sit
down and appear to be en
grossed in conversation no one
will have the bad manners to
interrupt us."

"'I do not know what you
must think of me!" said Ara

bella.

"I expect I had better not
tell you until we find ourselves
in a more retired position," he
replied. "You always blush
so delightfully when I pay you
compliments that I might at

tract attention to ourselves."'

She hesitated, and then
turned resolutely towards him,
tightly gripping her sunshade,
and saying: "Mr. Beaumaris,
you do wish to marry me?"

"Miss Tallant, I do indeed
wish to marry you!"

"And?and you are so weal
thy that my?my fortune can
mean nothing to you?"

"Nothing at all, Miss Tal
lant," he said gravely.

Please turn to page 37

Arabella

Continued from page 34

F(JR an instant,

\rabella was completely
silent. Then, drawing an
mdible breath she blurted out
ibruptly, "Well?please?Mr.
Beaumaris, will you marry me
.it once?"

Now, what the devil's the

uiing of this? thought Mr.
Beaumaris, startled. Can that
infernal young cub have been

ctting into more mischief

e 1 left town?

"At once?" he repeated.

"Yes!" said Arabella desper
ately. "You must know that
I have the greatest dislike of
?of all formality, and?and
the nonsense that always ac

ompanies the announcement
of an engagement. I?I should
wish to be married very
quietly?in fact, in the strict
i st secrecy?and before any
one has guessed that I have
accepted your very obliging

offer!"

The wretched youth must
have been deeper into the
hatches than I guessed, thought
Mr. Beaumaris, and still she
dare not tell me the truth.
Does she really mean to carry
out this outrageous suggestion,
or does she only think that she

means it?

"You may think it odd of
me, but I have always thought
it would be very romantic to
elope!" pronounced Papa's
daughter defiantly.

Mr. Beaumaris turned a deaf
ear to the promptings of his

better self.

"How right you are!" he re
plied instantly. "I wonder I
should not have thought of
an elopement myself. The
announcement of the engage
ment of two such notable fig
ures as ourselves must pro
voke a degree of comment and
congratulation which would
not be at all to our taste."

"Exactly so," nodded Ara
bella, relieved to find that he
saw the matter in so reasonable
a light.

"Consider, too, the chagrin
of such as Horace Epworth!"
said Mr. Beaumaris, growing
momentarily more enamored
of the scheme. "You would
be driven to distraction by
their ravings."

"Well, I do think I might
be," said Arabella.

"There is no doubt of it.
Moreover, the formality of
making application to your
father for permission to ad
dress you is quite antiquated,
and we shall do well to dis
pense with it. If some little
feeling still exists in the minds
of old - fashioned persons
against marrying minors out
of hand, it need not concern

us."

"N-no," agreed Arabella,
rather doubtfully. "Do you

think people will ? will be
very much shocked, sir?"

"No," said Mr. Beaumaris,
with perfect truth. "No one

will be in the least shocked.

When would you like to
elope?"

"Would to-morrow be too
soon?" asked Arabella anxi
ously.

Mr. Beaumaris might wish
that his love would give him
her confidence, but it would
have been idle to have denied
that he was hugely enjoying

himself. Life with Arabella
would contain few dull mo

ments, he reflected, although

her estimate of his morals was

unflattering enough to have
discomposed any man.

Fortunately, it left him un
touched, since he was well
aware that her assumption

of his readiness to behave in
so improper a fashion sprang
from, her innocence, which he
found enchanting.

He replied with great
promptness: "Not a moment
too soon! But for the recollec
tion that there are one or two
preparations which perhaps I
should make I should have
suggested that we should leave
this building together."

"No, that would be impos
sible," said Arabella seriously.
"In fact, I do not know very
much about such things, but I
feel that it will really be ex
cessively difficult for me to es
cape from Park Street without
anyone knowing. For I must
carry a valise with me, at least,
besides my dressing case, and
how may it be contrived?"

She added thoughtfully,
"Unless I crept out at dead of
night, of course, but it would
have to be very late indeed, for
the porter always waits up for
Lord Bridlington to come in.
And I might fall asleep," she
ended candidly.

"I have a constitutional dis

like of eloping at dead of
night," said Mr. Beaumaris
firmly. "Such exploits entail
the use of rope ladders, I am
credibly informed, and the
thought of being surprised, per
haps by the watch, in the very
act of throwing this up to your
window is one that I find
singularly unnerving."

"Nothing," said Arabella,
"would prevail upon me to
climb down a rope ladder! Be
sides my bedroom is at the
back of the house."

"Perhaps," said Mr. Beau
maris, "you had better leave
me to make the necessary
arrangements."

"Oh, yes," responded Ara
bella gratefully. "I am sure
you will know just how it

should be contrived!"

none Help

"/ juH laid 'I hare large feet and mould like tome

thing plenty big enough for comfort.' "

This reflection upon his past
career Mr. Beaumaris bore
with an unmoved countenance.

"Just so, Miss Tallant," he
said gravely. "Now it occurs
to me that, to-morrow being
Wednesday, there will be a
gala night at Vauxhall Gar

dens."

"Yes, Lady Bridlington
thought at one time of taking
me to it," agreed Arabella.
"But then, you know, she re
called that it is the night of
the party at Uxbridge House."

"A very dull affair, I have
no doubt. I shall invite Lady
Bridlington?and Bridlington,
I suppose?to do me the honor
of joining my party at Vaux
hall. You will naturally be in
cluded in this invitation, and
at a convenient moment during
the course of the evening we
shall slip away together to the
street entrance, where my
chaise will be awaiting us."

On considering

this proposition, Arabella
discovered an objection to it.
"How very odd it would seem
to Lady Bridlington," she said,
"if you were to go away in the
middle of your own party."

The amused reflection that
Lady Bridlington might well
deem this eccentricity the
least odd feature of the affair
Mr. Beaumaris kept to him
self. He said: "Very true. A
note shall be delivered to her
after our departure."

"Well, I suppose that would
be better than ^nothing," Ara
bella conceded. "Oh, will she
ever forgive me for treating

her so?"

This involuntary exclama
tion seemed to escape her
without her knowledge. She

raised the second of her ob
jections. "And in any event it
will not answer, because I can
not take a valise to Vauxhall!"

"That you will also leave to
me," said Mr. Beaumaris.

"But you cannot call in Park
Street to fetch it!" she pointed

out.

"Certainly not."

"And I will not elope with
out a change of clothes, or my
hairbrushes, or my tooth pow
der," declared Arabella.

"Most improper," agreed

Mr. Beaumaris. "All these

shall be forthcoming."

"You cannot buy such things
for me!' gasped Arabella,

shocked.

"I assure you I should enjoy
doing it."

She stared at him, and then
exclaimed wretchedly: "How
dreadful it all is! I never,
never thought I should come
to this! I dare say it seems
the merest commonplace to
you, but to me?But I see that
it is of no use to cavil."

The tell-tale muscle at the
corner of Mr. Beaumaris'

mouth quivered, and was
sternly repressed.

"Well, perhaps not precisely
commonplace," he said. "It so
happens that I have not pre
viously eloped with anyone.
However, to a man of ordinary
ingenuity the affair should not
prove impossible to achieve
creditably, I trust."

He glanced up and added,
"I perceive Mrs. Penkridge,
who is hoping to catch either
your eye or mine. We shall
permit her to do so, and while
she gives you her views on
art, I shall go in search of Lady
Bridlington, and engage her to
bring you to Vauxhall to-mor
row evening."

"Oh, pray do not! I dislike
Mrs. Penkridge excessively,"
she whispered.

"Yes, an odious woman, but
impossible to avoid," he re

turned.

Seeing him rise to his feet,
Mrs. Penkridge bore down
upon him, her acidulated smile
on her lips. Mr. Beaumaris
greeted her with his smooth
civility, stayed a minute, then,
to Arabella's indignation, made
his bow, and went off in the
direction of the next room.

Either Lady Bridlington
proved hard to find, or he must
have fallen a victim to her
garrulity, Arabella thought,
for it seemed a very long time
before she set eyes on him
again. When he did reappear
Lady Bridlington was walking
beside him, wreathed in

smiles.

Arabella made her excuses

to Mrs. Penkridge, and went
across to her godmother, who
greeted her with the cheerful
intelligence that Mr. Beau
maris had formed the most
delightful scheme for an even
ing at Vauxhall.

"I did not scruple to accept,
my love, for I knew you would
like it of all things!" she said.

"Yes," said Arabella, feel
ing that she was now com

mitted to an irrevocable and
reprehensible course which she
would no doubt regret her life
long. "I mean, oh, yes! how
very agreeable!"

To be concluded

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