them to the House to vote in an impending division of
great importance.

"What a find!" he exclaims. "Four, and all
us!"

All regard him with faces of disfavor, and the duke
says :

"What a confounded nuisance you are, Bobby!
This is the second time this week you've nosed me out.
By Jove ! there's no safety anywhere. Fancy follow-
ing a man here ! "

Lord Ballyhooly is accustomed to such welcomes,
and only laughs.

" It's devilish hard lines a man can't have any peace
in a club like this," growls Lord Swansdale. " This
isn't the Carlton. If a man goes there in the after-
noon and gets caught, it's his own fault. But here !
Where the devil is a man to go ? "

" Fancy having to sit squatting on those benches
in a fusty atmosphere for an hour or more, listening
to some idiot spouting about some rubbishy bill or
other. By Jove ! I must decline for one," says Lord
Oaktorrington. " Besides, I've got an engagement."

" So 've I," adds Lord Bouverie.

" I'm awfully sorry to bother you," says Lord Bal-
lyhooly. "The chances are you won't have to stay
more than ten or fifteen minutes, and its a most im-



38 ARISTOCRACY.

portant matter for the Opposition to have as large a
majority as possible. It will be another black eye for
the grand old man."

" By Jove ! I wish I could give him a couple now,"
observes Lord Swansdale, holding up a brawny fist
and smelling his knuckles. " Damned old scoundrel ! "

" What is it about ? " asks Lord Bouverie. " De-
ceased wife's sister? "

" Deceased wife's sister ! " laughs Lord Swansdale.
" That was passed last session. Even / know that."

" Last session ? I beg to differ with you. It was
two years ago," remarks Lord Oaktorrington.

" Two years ! Bosh ! More like four or five,"
calls out the duke. " Wasn't it, Bouverie ? You know,
of course."

Lord Bouverie is about to say, " I'm blessed if I
know," but remembers in time his desire to please the
duke, and says, " Of course it was."

" As a matter of fact," Lord Ballyhooly explains,
" it was defeated the session before last."

" Defeated ! " cries the duke. " Didn't Tummy
vote for it ? What rubbish you are talking."

" That doesn't matter. The prince only has one
vote, like every other peer."

" Oh ! "

" Really ? "

" Fancy that ! "

" You surprise me ! "

" No," turning to Lord Bouverie, " this is the
second reading of the Franchise Bill."

"Oh, yes," proudly, "the bill to let policemen
vote. Why shouldn't they? "

" Let policemen vote ! " exclaims Lord Swansdale.



ARISTOCRACY.



39



' I'm not such an ass as that. There's not a greater
set of blackguards in the world than policemen."

Lord Oaktorrington has in mind a recent fisticuff
in Rotten Row, between the earl and Sir Charles
Chatfield, and remarks :

" No doubt you have good reasons for thinking so."
Lord Swansdale pretended not to hear.

" This Franchise Bill is going to let every one vote
women and everybody isn't it?" asks the duke.
" I shouldn't object to the women but damn it, if I
can go the men. Fancy your groom or footman
having a vote like yourself much they'd know about
it! Gladstone's in his dotage, without a doubt."

{the old blackguard ! "
the d d old traitor ! "
the infernal old idiot ! "

Lord Ballyhooly looks at his watch.

"We shall be late," he says. "You won't mind
coming at once? I'll just tell the hall porter to call
a couple of cabs."

"Beastly bore ! "

" Confounded nuisance ! "

" Rotten bother ! "

" Devilish hard lines ! "

" I expect we must," says the duke, looking at the
others.

" Oh, yes."

" Of course."

" Must, I suppose."

" But, I say," says Lord Bouverie. " How's a chap
to vote ? Better know that before we go. Um ? Eh ? "

" Content, of course," answers the duke, senten-
tiously.



40 ARISTOCRACY.

"Fancy Bouverie not knowing," laughs Lord
Swansdale. " A nice law-maker he is. No wonder
the Radicals want to abolish us. It's fellows like him
who get us sat upon. Recollect we are all to vote
with the contents"

" No no no ! " cries Lord Ballyhooly, who has
come back to hurry them off. " You're all to go into
the non-content lobby. Mind, the -$v&-content lobby.
You won't forget ? "

There is a chorus of " Oh, no's," " Of course,
nots," etc., as the four born legislators go down the
steps and start in two hansoms for the House of
Lords.

"Cads are good enough to envy us our lot," re-
marks the duke, as he steps into his cab. "They
little know the hardships we have to endure."



CHAPTER III.

THE Marchioness of Oaktorrington and her two
daughters, the Ladies Mary and Edith Vesey, are sit-
ting in the drawing-room at Ashwynwick Park. They
are in reality awaiting with much inward anxiety and
expectancy the arrival of their son and brother Lord
Frederick Vesey and his American friend ; but the
perfection of their drilling in aristocratic restraint and
repression is such that, to even the scrutiny of a most
searching observer, there is nothing betrayed, in look,
movement, or act, which would give the impression that
their thoughts were occupied with anything beyond
the commonplace every-day occupations in which
they are engaged.



ARISTOCRACY. 4!

The marchioness is doing some simple crewel-
work with a wicker work-table full of different colored
worsteds before her, Lady Mary is crocheting a crim-
son and yellow antimacassar, and Lady Edith is at
the writing-table, writing some letters for the evening's
post. The door opens, and the butler enters with a
letter on a silver waiter, the brickdust envelope show-
ing at a glance it is a telegram. Lady Oaktorring-
ton picks it up impassively, and says in a steady
voice:

" I hope it isn't from Freddy, to say his friend
can't come," while her heart beats one hundred
and twenty to the minute lest it bring some tidings
of accident, and her daughters scarcely raise their
eyes, though their breath comes and goes with trebled
rapidity.

" No answer," the marchioness says, quietly. She
waits until the butler withdraws and her daughters
look up with the faintest shade of inquiry in their
eyes :

" How tiresome of the Bouveries ! or rather Lord
Bouverie, for the telegram is from him," she tells
them. "They're coming, after all."

" Really ? " from Lady Mary.

" Oh ! " from Lady Edith.

"Yes. Here is what he says : Did not go to Paris
after all, so we shall be with you on Tuesday. Jack is
with us.

Lady Edith flushes scarlet at the four last words,
and stoops her head to address an envelope to some
one any one. Curiously enough she finds upon look-
ing at it that it reads : The Hon. John Bouverie, Bin-
stead Hail, Talstone, Warwickshire. Nature having



42 ARISTOCRACY.

in the two minutes' lapse been got under proper con-
trol again, she tears up the envelope with an air of
thoroughbred dignity and repose, and throws it into
the waste-paper basket.

"Jack is with us" repeats Lady Oaktorrington.
" I think I know what that means. One of Lord Bou-
verie's delicate hints. He wanted me to telegraph
back (for an answer was paid for), to invite Jack. It
will be rather a sell for him when he gets no reply.
Four Bouveries are enough at one time in all con-
science were there no other reasons." The last five
words she adds in a whisper, her voice at its loudest
being little more. They reach Lady Edith's little pink
ears as though blared through a thousand trumpets,
nevertheless ; and the blood comes back to her cheeks,
and her eyes flash resentfully. But neither she nor
her sister speaks. It is not their custom to mention
a man's name in their mother's presence or hearing.
There are not two more "properly" brought up girls
in England. Utter and complete silence reassumes her
sway. The ticking of the clock on the chimney-piece,
the dropping of a cinder now and then from the grate,
and the scratching of Lady Edith's pen, are the only
sounds to be heard. Presently Lady Edith puts down
a pen that has been idly scribbling her own name
over sheet after sheet of paper, and opens the telegram-
form case which lies on the table ; from this she stealth-
ily and slowly tears out a blank form and shuts up
the case again. She waits a minute and looks cau-
tiously over her shoulder at her mother and sister.
Both sit with eyes bent over their work. She takes
up her pen and quickly filling up the form as fol-
lows :



ARISTOCRACY. 43

To Lord Bouverie, Army and Navy Club.
'(" I've heard father say he lived there.") Pall Mall,
London, S. W. We hope Mr. John will come with you.
Julia Oaktorrington.

blots it, folds it, and puts it in an envelope which she
addresses to The Postmaster, Hertford. Then she
places it carefully between the two letters she has
written for the post, slips out noiselessly behind a
screen and through an ante-room into the hall, drops
the three letters into the letter-box, and ere her mother
or sister have noticed her absence, is back in her seat
again with a smile of satisfaction and seemingly ut-
terly unconscious be the motive ever so harmless,
and the injury ever so trifling that she is guilty of
a crime punishable with penal servitude. She is hardly
seated when her mother looks up.

" Edith, my dear, I wish you would write a line to
your father for me ; your hand is so exactly like mine
that he'll never know."

"Yes, mother."

" You've written all your own letters, dear ? "

It suddenly occurs to Lady Edith that it will call
forth remark from her mother and sister (every trifle
of the sort being given undue weight) if she have no
letters to give the butler when he comes in to see if
there are any more for the post, after clearing the box
in the hall, and as she will be unable to account for
hers having been put into the box, she quickly decides
she must write another, and so answers :

"Just one more."

"Well, then, after that will do."

"Yes, mother."



44 ARISTOCRACY.

She hastily scribbles a few lines to a former gov-
erness, to ask the name of a German history she used
to read"(the book is on her bookshelf in her room), and
then says :

'* Now, mother."

" Who is your letter to, dear ? "

" Fraulein. I haven't written to the poor thing for
an age."

" How good of you, dear. And the others ? "

" Only Aunt Eliza, and and Emmy Bouverie."

Lady Oaktorrington looks round sharply, with a
suspicious glance.

" Emmy Bouverie ! What on earth can you have to
write to her about ? She'll be here, to-morrow. Let
me see the letter."

" Oh, there, then, I'm sure I don't want to send it,"
and Lady Edith tears up a sheet of the paper she had
been scribbling her name upon, and throws it into the
fire.

"You mustn't give way to such temper, Edith, my
dear. It's such very bad form."

" Yes, mother. I'm very sorry. What shall I say
to father ? "

" Oh, tell him the Bouveries are coming, after all,
and that he'd better come home at once to meet
them."

" Yes. Anything else ? "

" Let me see. Yes. " It is against the mar-
chioness's rule to speak to her daughters, or allow
them to speak to her, about men. " Say er oh, I
think I had best write it myself."

An idea of her own has suggested itself to Lady
Edith,



ARISTOCRACY.



45



. " Nonsense, mother. Why should you trouble to
leave your work and comfortable place by the fire.
It's awfully cold out here, and too dark for you to
see."

Lady Oaktorrington is very comfortable and is
nothing loath to stay. After all, what harm, just this
once? she thinks.

" Very well, dear. Tell him his Grace he will
know who I mean never came yesterday, and ask
him to try and see him and find out why. That is
all."

Lady Edith puts all these directions into proper
shape, and adds, before signing her mother's name
this time as her legal agent Also see Lord Bouverie,
and tell him we shall expect his son Jack with them.

When she reads the letter over to her mother she
carefully omits this, and has barely time to seal and
stamp it before the butler comes in with the tea-cloth
over his arm, a footman following him with the lamps.

" Dear me ! Five o'clock ? I had no idea it was
so late. Freddy must have missed his train. He
ought to have been here before this."

" There he is, now," says Lady Edith, as the front-
door bell rings a loud peal.

"I'm glad he's come in time for tea," says the mar-
chioness ; and after that, silence the silence of re-
pressed expectancy reigns for ten minutes. Then
Nature reasserts herself, and Lady Edith says :

" What a time they are coming in, to be sure ! What
can be the matter, I wonder ? "

Her mother looks reprovingly at her.

" My dear, you shouldn't excite yourself in that
way about what is very easily ascertained. Just ring,



46 ARISTOCRACY.

please. Oh, Dawkins, docs Lord Frederick know we
are here ? "

" Lord Frederick, m'lady ? " asks the butler, with a
bewildered look.

" Yes. That was him who rang just now ?"

" No, m'lady ; that was Lord Beyndour, m'lady."

"Oh? was it?"

"Yes, m'lady. He's gone to his room, m'lady."

"Very well, that will do."

" How awfully tiresome," cries Lady Edith, as
soon as Dawkins shuts the door after him. " What
on earth brought him, of all people ? He'll spoil
everything."

"Really, my dear, I don't quite understand you.
Spoil everything ? Spoil what ? "

Lady Oaktorrington is herself quite as vexed as any
one at her eldest son's unexpected arrival. But she is
too well-bred to show it.

" Why, the Bouveries' visit, of course. What else
could I mean ? You know what Beyndour is."

" You mustn't say such things of your brother,
dear. As for spoiling the Bouveries' visit, Lord Bou-
verie will be only too enchanted at having his girls
meet him. Not that it will do them the least good.
We have higher views for him than one of them."

Lady Edith knows quite well what she means, but
she doesn't say so.

" Poor Beyndour," says Lady Mary. " I call it a
shame of Edith."

" Do you really ? Well, then, let us see how he'll
get on with Freddy's American friend. I'll warrant
he insults him in some way or other. There's one
comfort, Ja " She catches herself in time and com-



ARISTOCRACY.



47



pletes the sentence, " Jack's a match for him," in her
mind.

" Really, Edith, I must ask you to stop saying such
things," Lady Oaktorrington says, while she thinks how
will she ever manage to keep peace while Lord Beyn-
dour stays, and wishes it were possible to stop Lord
Frederick in transitu.

They drink their tea in silence for another ten min-
utes, when the door is thrown open with a rush and a
bang, and in walks Viscount Beyndour. He is his
father's counterpart, save in age, gray hairs, and the
absence of beard, a thick, red mustache being his
only " hirsute appendage." He says :

"How do, mother Mary Edith?" and kisses
each in turn on the lower tip of both ears. Then he
goes and stands on the hearth-rug, with his back to the
fire, and, putting his glass in his eye, sticks his hands
in his trousers' pockets, and looks down at his boots
without another word for five minutes or more.

" Won't you have some tea, dear ? " his mother asks,
at last.

"Oh! Thanks, awfully."

" I thought you were above tea," says Lady
Edith.

Both her mother and sister look at her and shake
their heads. Her brother frowns and doesn't deign to
reply.

" Beastly tepid stuff ! " he exclaims, as he tastes his
cup and then empties the contents into the slop-basin.
" Curious thing, one always gets iced-tea out of season
here."

" I'm so sorry," cries Lady Mary, in great distress ;
" I forgot to put on the cosy."



48 ARISTOCRACY.

" Let me ring and have some more hot water," sug-
gests his mother.

" No, thanks. I don't care for water, either cold
or hot, as a beverage.

" Some more tea made, then ? "

" Pfah ! What rubbish you talk, mother," he an-
swers, turning his face to the fire.

" I'm so very glad to see you, dear," the mar-
chioness says, after a prolonged pause. No answer.
" I hope you'll be able to stay with us longer than you
did the last time."

" Got only a fortnight's leave," he replies. " Only
stay a day or two."

Lady Edith almost bites a piece out of her cup, with
repressed joy.

" Harborough's asked me to go and shoot at Bea-
schamp, Thursday."

" Harborough ? Why his Grace wrote to say he was
coming here."

" Oho ! " thinks Lady Edith. " That was the ' his
Grace ' father's been sent after. Fancy ! "

"When?" asks Lord Beyndour.

"Yesterday."

" Here, now ? " He turns round from the fire with
a grin (one can't call it a smile) beginning to develop
in his face.

" No. Why, he didn't come ! "

Lord Beyndour breaks into a loud laugh.

"So I thought. He's not such a fool as that.
Fancy Harborough coming here ! Haw haw ! "

" Really, my dear, I don't quite see what you mean ! "

"Now, just look here. What the deuce would
bring him here ? Answer me that. Here ! "



ARISTOCRACY.



49



He looks at his mother for the first time since they
began to talk, and finds her with a crimson face. He
puts up his glass to regard her more closely, and then
winks to himself.

" The Bouveries are coming to-morrow," says Lady
Mary.

"Gals, too?"

" Yes, I believe so."

" Not that ass, Jack, I hope ? "

" No, indeed," answers the marchioness, who has
had time to get back her self-possession. Lady Edith
smiles to herself.

" Any one else coming ? "

"Yes, indeed, there is," cries Lady Edith. "Fancy
our forgetting to tell him all this time."

" Well, who is it ? Come come ! "

" Freddy."

" Freddy ? Freddy who ? There are millions of
Freddies."

" Your brother, my dear," says his mother.

"What the deuce is the good of playing the fool
with me like this ? You know as well as I do Freddy
is out in the States."

" He was, dear. But he's in England now, and we
expect him to arrive at any moment. He ought to
have been here an hour ago. Indeed, we thought it
was him when you came."

" And do you mean to say father's been such an
idiot as to let him come home ? Why, he only went
there a few weeks ago."

" My dear, the poor boy's been away six
months."

" Rubbish ! It seems like yesterday that he went.
4



50 ARISTOCRACY.

Fancy chucking away a lot of money like that. What
a beastly row father made when he had to pay up my
racing bets for me last year. I'll back it wasn't half
as much."

" He's bringing an American friend with him," ob-
serves Lady Edith, with a sly twinkle in her eyes.

" What ? " Lord Beyndour draws himself up to his
full height and knits his brows. " Fetching a Yankee
here ? " Then he bursts out again into a loud laugh.
" Now, I know it's all a beastly lie."

Lady Oaktorrington winces. " Pray, dear, don't be
so uncivil. It is all quite true."

"All I can say is, then, I'm devilish sorry to hear
it. Fancy a red republican, dynamiter in this house.
We shall be having Labouchere and Bradlaugh next, I
dare say. What can father be thinking about ? "

" Freddy says he's so very nice."

"As if Freddy was a judge! Have you ever had
the sublime delight of meeting an American? "

" Of course, my dear."

"Who?"

" Why, Lady Ru "

"I'm not talking of women. I mean men."

"N no, dear, I think not."

" So I thought. If you had, you'd never allow one
inside your doors. I suppose you don't know they all
chew tobacco, and don't in the least mind where or
when they spit. Fancy the carpets ! "

"I'm sure this one doesn't. From what Freddy
says, he's too much of a gentleman."

" Gentleman ?" with a sneer. "Wait till you see.
By Jove ! Just look here ! I'll back that's the reason
Harborough hasn't come."



ARISTOCRACY. 5 !

"Nonsense, dear. His Grace certainly lives in too
glass a house to "

"To throw stones. I knew you'd say that. No
more he should at us. But, Americans are different.
They're no better than shopkeepers. Fancy compar-
ing Harborough with them ! By Jove, you'll be asking
Tummy down the first thing one knows, to meet Jesse
Collings and Chamberlain, and wondering he doesn't
come on account of his goings on ! I dare say you
and this Yankee will hit it off capitally. You should
leave the Primrose League at once and join the Radi-
cals."

" Don't be rude, dear," is all his mother says.

"Freddy says he's awfully rich," remarks Lady
Edith in an undertone.

Lord Beyndour wheels round sharply, and stares at
his sister.

" Eh ? What ? Rich, is he ? Hum ! " and various
ideas and fancies of a monetary character flit rapidly
through Lord Beyndour's brain. " Rich, eh ? Of
course, it's easy to say that. But who knows ? "

" Freddy."

" Freddy ! What rot ! How does he know ? All
I can say is you don't get me civil to the fellow by any
such rubbish as that. I'll back he's a humbug."

"We shall soon be able to tell, dear," says Lady
Oaktorrington, as the front-door bell rings out another
peal. Two minutes later Lord Frederick Vesey walks
into the room, alone.



ARISTOCRACY.



CHAPTER IV.

FREDDY'S greeting to his family is at once hearty
and astounding. From his own and most other people's
standpoint it is natural and sincere ; from theirs, over-
whelming and vulgar. He dashes up to his mother
and sisters and gives each in turn a warm embrace
and a kiss straight on the mouth before they know
where they are.

" Well, I am glad to get home again ! " he exclaims
in a loud voice which makes his mother flinch and his
brother frown. " Not that I don't like America, for I
do ; but its real nice to see you all again. See ? "

" Yes, dear," answers his mother, faintly, slowly re-
covering from his onset. " I'm sure we must all be
glad you've left that horrid country," and she looks
meaningly at Lord Beyndour, who elevates his eye-
brows and shakes his head.

"Horrid country? You mustn't call it that. It's
a grand country, and I mean to go back. How hand-
some you are looking, mother, and I don't think I ever
saw Mary look so pretty or Edith so Well, I de-
clare, if she isn't the prettiest girl I've seen for ever so
long! "

In accordance with aristocratic canons of good
form a woman's looks or personal appearance are never
even alluded to - to herself ; that is, before other peo-
ple. Lady Oaktorrington and her daughters wince,
exchange glances, and look down. Though he has
been but six months away, Freddy has thrown off the
shackles of family restraint, and seems to have posi-
tively forgotten the common ethics of his class. What



ARISTOCRACY.



53



thoughts pass through his mother's head it is not diffi-
cult to conjecture. She looks the picture of downcast
humiliation, while his sisters, who ever take their out-
wardly appearing cue from her, wear serious, shocked
faces. Lady Edith's eyes, however, dance merrily
despite her somber countenance, and the corners of
her mouth twitch upward at times, and refuse to be
kept down. Lord Frederick is no fool. We may see
presently that he is weak from the pernicious unreality
and narrowness of his early teachings; but by nature
he is quick of perception, and in beginning to feel and
recognize the old familiar chill of repression and arti-
ficiality he recollects the rule he has broken. Six
months ago he would have felt snubbed, sat upon, dis-
graced, and humbled. But his little glimpse of the
world beyond the narrow confines of class, and the
strict limits of family, has opened his mind consider-
ably, and made him independent and unyielding. He
waits a moment longer for some response, and then
turning away with a smile of pity, for the first time is
aware of his brother's presence. Before Lord Beyn-
dour, without changing a muscle of his face, can get
further than

" How do, Freddy ? "

Freddy grabs him by the hand with a grip of iron,
and slaps him on the back with a resounding whack :

"Why, old chap, whoever thought you were here,"
he shouts. " And how are you ? "

" All right, thanky," answers Lord Beyndour, civil
of word, but rude in tone and impatient in gesture,
wriggling his shoulder away and striving to withdraw
his hand. " D don't do that, I say. You'll break
my fingers." Lord Frederick drops his brother's hand



54 ARISTOCRACY.

and turns away. He feels hurt, but he won't show it.
" It's only their way their old cussed way poor
things," he says to himself. " I used to be that way
myself. Well, mother, you haven't said three words
to me, and as for Mary and Edith, they seem to have
lost their tongues since I went away. Still no word ?
It's a pity I came back."

" Hear hear," grunts Lord Beyndour, from the fire
to which he has wheeled an arm-chair wherein he sits
with his back to everybody. " I say, Edith," looking
over his shoulder without moving. " Is that the Hert-
ford News on the table near you ? It is? Then just
chuck it over to me. I want to see where the Tarn-