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Data Analysis and Graphics Using R An Example based
Approach 2nd Edition John Maindonald Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): John Maindonald, John Braun
ISBN(s): 9780521861168, 0511250592
Edition: 2
File Details: PDF, 4.75 MB
Year: 2006
Language: english
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 Data Analysis and Graphics Using R, Second Edition

Join the revolution ignited by the ground-breaking R system! Starting with an introduction
to R, covering standard regression methods, then presenting more advanced topics, this
book guides users through the practical and powerful tools that the R system provides. The
emphasis is on hands-on analysis, graphical display and interpretation of data. The many
worked examples, taken from real-world research, are accompanied by commentary on
what is done and why. A website provides computer code and data sets, allowing readers
to reproduce all analyses. Updates and solutions to selected exercises are also available.
Assuming basic statistical knowledge and some experience of data analysis, the book is
ideal for research scientists, final-year undergraduate or graduate level students of applied
statistics, and practicing statisticians. It is both for learning and for reference.
This second edition reflects changes in R since 2003. There is new material on
survival analysis, random coefficient models and the handling of high-dimensional data.
The treatment of regression methods has been extended, including a brief discussion
of errors in predictor variables. Both text and code have been revised throughout, and
where possible simplified. New graphs have been added.
John Maindonald is Visiting Fellow at the Centre for Mathematics and its
Applications, Australian National University. He has collaborated extensively with
scientists in a wide range of application areas, from medicine and public health to
population genetics, machine learning, economic history and forensic linguistics.
John Braun is Associate Professor of Statistical and Actuarial Sciences, University of
Western Ontario. He has collaborated with biostatisticians, biologists, psychologists and
most recently has become involved with a network of forestry researchers.
 Data Analysis and Graphics
Using R – an Example-Based Approach
Second Edition
 CAMBRIDGE SERIES IN STATISTICAL AND PROBABILISTIC
MATHEMATICS

Editorial Board

R. Gill (Department of Mathematics, Utrecht University)

B. D. Ripley (Department of Statistics, University of Oxford)
S. Ross (Department of Industrial & Systems Engineering, University of Southern
California)
B. W. Silverman (St. Peter’s College, Oxford)
M. Stein (Department of Statistics, University of Chicago)

This series of high-quality upper-division textbooks and expository monographs covers

all aspects of stochastic applicable mathematics. The topics range from pure and applied
statistics to probability theory, operations research, optimization, and mathematical pro-
gramming. The books contain clear presentations of new developments in the field and
also of the state of the art in classical methods. While emphasizing rigorous treatment of
theoretical methods, the books also contain applications and discussions of new techniques
made possible by advances in computational practice.

Already published
1. Bootstrap Methods and Their Application, by A. C. Davison and D. V. Hinkley
2. Markov Chains, by J. Norris
3. Asymptotic Statistics, by A. W. van der Vaart
4. Wavelet Methods for Time Series Analysis, by Donald B. Percival and Andrew
T. Walden
5. Bayesian Methods, by Thomas Leonard and John S. J. Hsu
6. Empirical Processes in M-Estimation, by Sara van de Geer
7. Numerical Methods of Statistics, by John F. Monahan
8. A User’s Guide to Measure Theoretic Probability, by David Pollard
9. The Estimation and Tracking of Frequency, by B. G. Quinn and E. J. Hannan
10. Data Analysis and Graphics using R, by John Maindonald and W. John Braun
11. Statistical Models, by A. C. Davison
12. Semiparametric Regression, by D. Ruppert, M. P. Wand, R. J. Carroll
13. Exercises in Probability, by Loic Chaumont and Marc Yor
14. Statistical Analysis of Stochastic Processes in Time, by J. K. Lindsey
15. Measure Theory and Filtering, by Lakhdar Aggoun and Robert Elliott
16. Essentials of Statistical Inference, by G. A. Young and R. L. Smith
17. Elements of Distribution Theory, by Thomas A. Severini
18. Statistical Mechanics of Disordered Systems, by Anton Bovier
19. The Coordinate-Free Approach to Linear Models, by Michael J. Wichura
20. Random Graph Dynamics, by Rick Durrett
 Data Analysis and Graphics
Using R – an Example-Based Approach
Second Edition

John Maindonald
Centre for Mathematics and its Applications, Australian National University

and
W. John Braun
Department of Statistical and Actuarial Science, University of Western Ontario
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo

Cambridge University Press

The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK
Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York
www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521861168

© Cambridge University Press 2003, 2006

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of

relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place
without the written permission of Cambridge University Press.

First published in print format 2006

ISBN-13 978-0-511-24957-0 eBook (EBL)

ISBN-10 0-511-24957-8 eBook (EBL)

ISBN-13 978-0-521-86116-8 hardback

ISBN-10 0-521-86116-0 hardback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of urls
for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not
guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
It is easy to lie with statistics. It is hard to tell the truth without statistics.
[Andrejs Dunkels]

   technology tends to overwhelm common sense.

[D. A. Freedman]
For Amelia and Luke
also Shireen, Peter, Lorraine, Evan and Winifred

For Susan, Matthew and Phillip

 Contents

Preface page xix

1 A brief introduction to R 1
1.1 An overview of R 1
1.1.1 A short R session 1
1.1.2 The uses of R 5
1.1.3 Online help 6
1.1.4 Further steps in learning R 8
1.2 Data input, packages and the search list 8
1.2.1 Reading data from a file 8
1.2.2 R packages 9
1.3 Vectors, factors and univariate time series 10
1.3.1 Vectors in R 10
1.3.2 Concatenation – joining vector objects 10
1.3.3 Subsets of vectors 11
1.3.4 Patterned data 11
1.3.5 Missing values 12
1.3.6 Factors 13
1.3.7 Time series 14
1.4 Data frames and matrices 14
1.4.1 The attaching of data frames 16
1.4.2 Aggregation, stacking and unstacking 17
1.4.3∗ Data frames and matrices 17
1.5 Functions, operators and loops 18
1.5.1 Built-in functions 18
1.5.2 Generic functions and the class of an object 20
1.5.3 User-written functions 21
1.5.4 Relational and logical operators and operations 22
1.5.5 Selection and matching 23
1.5.6 Functions for working with missing values 23
1.5.7∗ Looping 24
1.6 Graphics in R 24
1.6.1 The function plot( ) and allied functions 25
1.6.2 The use of color 27
x Contents

1.6.3 The importance of aspect ratio 27

1.6.4 Dimensions and other settings for graphics devices 28
1.6.5 The plotting of expressions and mathematical symbols 28
1.6.6 Identification and location on the figure region 29
1.6.7 Plot methods for objects other than vectors 29
1.6.8 Lattice graphics versus base graphics – xyplot() versus plot() 30
1.6.9 Further information on graphics 30
1.6.10 Good and bad graphs 30
1.7 Lattice (trellis) graphics 31
1.8 Additional points on the use of R 33
1.9 Recap 36
1.10 Further reading 36
1.10.1 References for further reading 37
1.11 Exercises 37

2 Styles of data analysis 43

2.1 Revealing views of the data 43
2.1.1 Views of a single sample 44
2.1.2 Patterns in univariate time series 48
2.1.3 Patterns in bivariate data 50
2.1.4 Patterns in grouped data 52
∗
2.1.5 Multiple variables and times 54
2.1.6 Scatterplots, broken down by multiple factors 56
2.1.7 What to look for in plots 58
2.2 Data summary 59
2.2.1 Counts 60
2.2.2 Summaries of information from data frames 63
2.2.3 Standard deviation and inter-quartile range 66
2.2.4 Correlation 68
2.3 Statistical analysis questions, aims and strategies 69
2.3.1 How relevant and how reliable are the data? 70
2.3.2 Helpful and unhelpful questions 70
2.3.3 How will results be used? 71
2.3.4 Formal and informal assessments 72
2.3.5 Statistical analysis strategies 73
2.3.6 Planning the formal analysis 73
2.3.7 Changes to the intended plan of analysis 74
2.4 Recap 74
2.5 Further reading 75
2.5.1 References for further reading 75
2.6 Exercises 75

3 Statistical models 78
3.1 Regularities 79
3.1.1 Deterministic models 79
 Contents xi

3.1.2 Models that include a random component 79

3.1.3 Fitting models – the model formula 82
3.2 Distributions: models for the random component 83
3.2.1 Discrete distributions 84
3.2.2 Continuous distributions 86
3.3 The uses of random numbers 88
3.3.1 Simulation 88
3.3.2 Sampling from populations 89
3.4 Model assumptions 90
3.4.1 Random sampling assumptions – independence 91
3.4.2 Checks for normality 92
3.4.3 Checking other model assumptions 95
3.4.4 Are non-parametric methods the answer? 95
3.4.5 Why models matter – adding across contingency tables 95
3.5 Recap 96
3.6 Further reading 97
3.6.1 References for further reading 97
3.7 Exercises 97

4 An introduction to formal inference 101

4.1 Basic concepts of estimation 101
4.1.1 Population parameters and sample statistics 101
4.1.2 Sampling distributions 102
4.1.3 Assessing accuracy – the standard error 102
4.1.4 The standard error for the difference of means 103
4.1.5∗ The standard error of the median 104
4.1.6 The sampling distribution of the t-statistic 104
4.2 Confidence intervals and hypothesis tests 107
4.2.1 One- and two-sample intervals and tests for means 107
4.2.2 Confidence intervals and tests for proportions 113
4.2.3 Confidence intervals for the correlation 113
4.2.4 Confidence intervals versus hypothesis tests 114
4.3 Contingency tables 115
4.3.1 Rare and endangered plant species 117
4.3.2 Additional notes 119
4.4 One-way unstructured comparisons 120
4.4.1 Displaying means for the one-way layout 123
4.4.2 Multiple comparisons 124
4.4.3 Data with a two-way structure, that is, two factors 125
4.4.4 Presentation issues 126
4.5 Response curves 126
4.6 Data with a nested variation structure 127
4.6.1 Degrees of freedom considerations 128
4.6.2 General multi-way analysis of variance designs 129
xii Contents

4.7 Resampling methods for standard errors, tests and confidence

intervals 129
4.7.1 The one-sample permutation test 129
4.7.2 The two-sample permutation test 130
4.7.3∗ Estimating the standard error of the median: bootstrapping 131
4.7.4 Bootstrap estimates of confidence intervals 133
∗
4.8 Theories of inference 134
4.8.1 Maximum likelihood estimation 135
4.8.2 Bayesian estimation 136
4.8.3 If there is strong prior information, use it! 136
4.9 Recap 137
4.10 Further reading 138
4.10.1 References for further reading 138
4.11 Exercises 139

5 Regression with a single predictor 144

5.1 Fitting a line to data 144
5.1.1 Lawn roller example 145
5.1.2 Calculating fitted values and residuals 146
5.1.3 Residual plots 147
5.1.4 Iron slag example: is there a pattern in the residuals? 148
5.1.5 The analysis of variance table 150
5.2 Outliers, influence and robust regression 151
5.3 Standard errors and confidence intervals 153
5.3.1 Confidence intervals and tests for the slope 153
5.3.2 SEs and confidence intervals for predicted values 154
5.3.3∗ Implications for design 155
5.4 Regression versus qualitative anova comparisons 157
5.4.1 Issues of power 157
5.4.2 The pattern of change 158
5.5 Assessing predictive accuracy 158
5.5.1 Training/test sets and cross-validation 158
5.5.2 Cross-validation – an example 159
5.5.3∗ Bootstrapping 161
∗
5.6 A note on power transformations 164
5.6.1∗ General power transformations 164
5.7 Size and shape data 165
5.7.1 Allometric growth 166
5.7.2 There are two regression lines! 167
5.8 The model matrix in regression 168
5.9 Recap 169
5.10 Methodological references 170
5.11 Exercises 170
 Contents xiii

6 Multiple linear regression 173

6.1 Basic ideas: book weight and brain weight examples 173
6.1.1 Omission of the intercept term 176
6.1.2 Diagnostic plots 176
6.1.3 Example: brain weight 178
6.1.4 Plots that show the contribution of individual terms 180
6.2 Multiple regression assumptions and diagnostics 182
6.2.1 Influential outliers and Cook’s distance 183
6.2.2 Influence on the regression coefficients 184
6.2.3∗ Additional diagnostic plots 185
6.2.4 Robust and resistant methods 185
6.2.5 The uses of model diagnostics 185
6.3 A strategy for fitting multiple regression models 186
6.3.1 Preliminaries 186
6.3.2 Model fitting 187
6.3.3 An example – the Scottish hill race data 187
6.4 Measures for the assessment and comparison of regression
models 193
6.4.1 R2 and adjusted R2 193
6.4.2 AIC and related statistics 194
6.4.3 How accurately does the equation predict? 194
6.5 Interpreting regression coefficients 196
6.5.1 Book dimensions and book weight 196
6.6 Problems with many explanatory variables 199
6.6.1 Variable selection issues 200
6.7 Multicollinearity 202
6.7.1 A contrived example 202
6.7.2 The variance inflation factor 206
6.7.3 Remedies for multicollinearity 206
6.8 Multiple regression models – additional points 207
6.8.1 Errors in x 207
6.8.2 Confusion between explanatory and response variables 210
6.8.3 Missing explanatory variables 210
6.8.4∗ The use of transformations 212
6.8.5∗ Non-linear methods – an alternative to transformation? 212
6.9 Recap 214
6.10 Further reading 214
6.10.1 References for further reading 215
6.11 Exercises 216

7 Exploiting the linear model framework 219

7.1 Levels of a factor – using indicator variables 220
7.1.1 Example – sugar weight 220
7.1.2 Different choices for the model matrix when there are
factors 223
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Isabel
Clarendon, Vol. 2 (of 2)
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Title: Isabel Clarendon, Vol. 2 (of 2)

Author: George Gissing

Release date: March 25, 2017 [eBook #54432]

Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Widger from page images generously

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ISABEL

CLARENDON, VOL. 2 (OF 2) ***
ISABEL CLARENDON
 By George Gissing
In Two Volumes

VOL. II.

“C’était plus qu’une vie, hélas! c’était un monde Qui s’était

effacé!”

London: Chapman And Hall, Limited

Charles Dickens And Evans, Crystal Palace Press.

1886.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.

ISABEL CLARENDON
 CHAPTER I.

V
incent Lacour rose at eleven these dark mornings; by half-past
twelve he had breakfasted and was at leisure. To begin the
day with an elastic interval of leisure seemed to him a primary
condition of tolerable existence. From his bedroom windows he had
a glimpse of a very busy street, along which, as he hummed at his
toilet, he could see heavily-laden omnibuses hastening Citywards; he
thought with contemptuous pity of the poor wretches who had to
present themselves at bank, or office, or shop by a certain hour.
“Under no circumstances whatever,” he often said to himself with
conviction, “would I support life in that way. If it comes to the worst,
there are always the backwoods. Hard enough, no doubt, but that
would be in the order of things. If I stick in the midst of civilisation, I
live the life of a civilised man.” A mode of looking at things wherein
Vincent was probably rational enough.
On the present morning, about the middle of January, no sight of
dolorous traffic had disturbed his soul. When he raised his blind, the
gas had merely reflected itself against the window-panes; outside
was Stygian darkness, vaguely lurid in one or two directions; the day
was blinded with foul vapour. He shrugged his shoulders, and went
through the operation of dressing in a dispirited way. In his sitting-
room things were a trifle better; with a blazing fire and drawn
curtains, it was just possible to counterfeit the cheerful end of day.
The odour of coffee and cutlets aided him in forgetfulness of
external miseries.
“I suppose,” Vincent mused, as he propped the newspaper against
the coffee-pot, “they go to business even such mornings as this.
Great heavens!”
When the woman who waited upon him in his chambers had
cleared the table and betaken herself to other quarters where her
services were in request, Lacour placed himself in a deep chair,
extended his limbs, and lit a cigarette from the box which stood on a
little round table at his elbow. He was still in his dressing-gown; and,
as he let his head fall back and puffed up thin streams of smoke, the
picture of civilised leisure was complete. His fine hair, suffered to
grow rather long, and at present brushed carelessly into place till it
should have dried in the warmth of the room, relieved the delicate
tints of his complexion; his throat was charmingly white against the
dark velvet collar of the gown. The only detail not in harmony with
his attitude and surroundings was the pronounced melancholy of his
expression, the habitual phase of his countenance whenever, as
now, he lost self-consciousness in reverie. The look one bears at
such times is wont to be a truthful representation of the inner man,
not merely of the moment’s mood but of personality itself.
When he had reposed thus for half-an-hour, he went to his
writing-table, took from a drawer an unfinished letter, and, with the
help of a blotting-pad, resumed the writing of it in his chair by the
fireside.
“.... I am still waiting for an answer from Mrs. Clarendon to my
last letter; no doubt she merely delays till she can tell me on what
day she will be in London. I have told her with all emphasis that we
would neither of us think of taking any steps until her health is
completely restored and all her arrangements made; but she has
assured me several times that it is her wish for our marriage to take
place as soon as possible.
“There is a point, my dear Ada, which I have not hitherto ventured
to mention to you; if I do so now, I feel sure I shall find that your
ideas are precisely the same as my own. You know, of course, what
Mrs. Clarendon’s circumstances will be when her guardianship comes
to an end, and you feel, as I do, that such a state of things is not
practically possible. There can be no doubt of the truth of what I
hear from several people, that she has refused an offer of marriage
from Lord Winterset; it is astonishing, but the source of the
statement is, I am told, the Earl himself. Well, you will see what I
hint at; I know you have from the first had the same wish.
Personally I shall have nothing to do with money matters; they are
hateful to me, and, besides, are not your desires supreme?
Whatever proposal you make will, doubt not, meet with my
approval. Write to me in your own charming way of these matters;
my words are blunt and rude.
“I am glad you share my dislike to settling down at once either at
Knightswell or in London. My idea is that we should spend at least a
year in travelling. We will go to the East. I believe Oriental modes of
life will exactly suit my temperament. I dislike activity; to dream
away days in some delightful spot within view of the Bosphorus, with
a hookah near at hand, and you reading poetry to me—I think I
could make that last a long time. You will educate me. I have all
sorts of rudimentary capacities, which will never develop by my own
efforts, but with you to learn from as we chat at our ease among
orange-groves, I may hope to get some of the culture which I do
indeed desire. I——”
The flow of first personal pronouns was checked by a knock at the
outer door, the knock of a visitor. With some surprise Lacour rose
and went to open. With yet more surprise he admitted a young lady,
whose face, though it was half-hidden with a shawl, he knew well
enough.
“Are you alone?” she asked in a muffled voice. “Can I speak to
you?”
“Yes, I am alone. Pray come in.”
When the shawl was thrown aside, Rhoda Meres stood looking
nervously about the room. She was visibly in great agitation, and her
appearance seemed to show that she had dressed hurriedly to come
out. Lacour offered a chair by the fire, but she held at a distance,
and at length sat on the couch which was near her as she entered.
Clearly it was powerlessness to stand that made her seek the
support. She held the shawl lightly across her lap; shame and misery
goaded her, and she could neither raise her eyes nor speak.
 “If you will allow me,” said Vincent, whose lips had been moving
curiously as he regarded her, “I will just make a little change in my
costume. Do come nearer to the fire. I won’t be a minute.”
Left alone she began to cry quietly, and this gave her a measure
of relief. Before Lacour returned, she had time to dry her eyes and
survey the room again. Her prettiness was of the kind which suffers
rather from the signs of distress; she knew it, and it was a fresh
source of trouble. She still did not look up when Lacour,
conventionally attired, took his stand before the fire-place.
“It’s a hideous morning,” he began, with as much ease of manner
as he could command. “Whatever can have brought you out in such
weather?”
“Is it true what father has just told me?” broke from her lips; “is it
true that you are going to marry Ada Warren?”
“Yes,” replied Lacour with gravity, “it is true. I supposed you knew
long since.”
“Oh, it is cruel of you!” cried the girl passionately. “How can you
speak to me in that way?”
She hid her face upon the head of the sofa and wept
unrestrainedly. Lacour was uncomfortable. He took up a paper-knife
and played with it, then seated himself by the table, rested his elbow
on it and watched her, his own features a good deal troubled.
“Miss Meres——,” he began, but her smothered voice interrupted
him.
“You did not call me that the last time we were together,” she
sobbed. “Why do you try to put a distance between us in that way?
It is not three months since that day when I met you—you asked me
to—at South Kensington, and you speak as if it was years ago. You
must have gone straight from me to—to her!”
Lacour had an eye for the quiet irony of circumstances; it almost
amused him to reflect how literally true her words were. None the
less he was troubled by her distress.
 “Rhoda,” he said, leaning forward and speaking with calm reproof,
“this is altogether unworthy of you. I thought you so perfectly
understood; I thought it had all been made clear between us. Now
do give up crying, there’s a good girl, and come to the fire. You look
wretchedly cold. Take your hat off—won’t you?”
“No, no; how can you expect me to make myself at ease in that
way! I ought not to be here at all; it is foolish and wrong to have
come to you. But I couldn’t believe it; I was driven to come and ask
you to contradict it. And you only tell me it is true; that you thought
I knew it! I don’t understand how you can be so cruel.”
“Now let us talk,” said Lacour, tapping his knee with the paper
knife. “Why should you be so surprised at what you hear? You know
all about my position; we talked it over in full that day at the
Museum, didn’t we? I was absolutely frank with you; I concealed
nothing, and I pretended nothing. We liked each other; that we had
both of us found out, and there was no need to put it into words.
We found, too, that there was a danger of our growing indispensable
to each other, a state of things which had to be met rationally, and—
well, put an end to. Had we been at liberty to marry, I should
certainly have asked you to be my wife; as there was no possibility
of that, we adopted the wisest alternative, and agreed not to meet
again. I cannot tell you how I admired your behaviour; so few girls
are capable of talking in a calm and reasonable spirit of difficulties
such as these. Any one watching us would have thought we were
discussing some affair of the most every-day kind. As I say, you
were simply admirable. It grieves me to see you breaking down so
after all; it is not of a piece with the rest of your behaviour; it makes
a flaw in what dramatists call the situation. Don’t you agree with
me? Have I said anything but the truth?”
Rhoda listened, with her eyes fixed despairingly on the ground;
her hands holding the edge of the sofa gave her the appearance of
one shrinking back from a precipice. When he had finished his
statement, she faced him for the first time.
 “What would you have thought if I had gone at once and married
somebody else?”
“I should have heartily wished you every happiness.”
“Should you have thought I did right?” she asked with persistence,
clinging still to the edge of the sofa.
“On the whole, perhaps not.”
“You mean,” she said, not without bitterness, a fresh tear stealing
to her cheek, “that you believe in my feeling for you, and wish me to
understand that yours for me hadn’t the same seriousness?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. You must remember that I am not
defending this step of mine, only showing you that I have not
violated any compact between us. We were both left free, that’s all.”
“Then you don’t care for her!” the girl exclaimed, with mingled
satisfaction and reproof.
Lacour threw one leg over the other, and bent the paper-knife on
his knee.
“You must remember,” he said, “that marriages spring from many
other motives besides personal inclination. I have told you that I
don’t defend myself. I’m afraid I mustn’t say more than that.”
Rhoda let her eyes wander; agitation was again getting hold upon
her.
“You mean that I have no right to question you. I know I haven’t,
but—it all seems so impossible,” she burst forth. “How can you tell
me in such a voice that you are doing what you know isn’t right?
When father told me this morning I didn’t know about that will; he
only explained, because there was no use in keeping it secret any
longer, and of course he knew nothing of—of the way it would come
upon me.”
“Ah, you know about the will? I am very glad of that; it makes our
explanation easier.”
 She fixed her eyes upon him; they were only sad at first, but
expanded into a despairing amazement.
“How can you speak so to me?” she asked in a low and shaken
voice.
Lacour threw away the paper-cutter, and once more stood up.
“How am I to speak, Rhoda? Should you prefer to have me tell
you lies? Why couldn’t you accept the fact, and, knowing all the
details, draw your own conclusion? You were at liberty to hold me in
contempt, or to pity me, as you thought fit; you were even at liberty
to interfere to spoil my marriage if you liked——”
“You think me capable of that? No wonder you part from me so
easily. I thought you knew me better.”
She put her hands over her face and let her tears have way.
“Rhoda,” he exclaimed nervously, “there are two things I can’t
bear—a woman angry and a woman crying; but of the two I’d rather
have the anger. You are upsetting me dreadfully. I had ever so much
rather you told me in plain, knock-down words just what you think of
me. If you distress yourself in that way I shall do something absurd,
something we shall both of us be sorry for. Really, it was a horrible
mistake to come here; why should we have to go through a scene of
this kind? You are giving me—and yourself—the most needless pain.”
She rose and sought the door with blinded eyes, as if to go from
him at once. Lacour took a step or two towards her, and only with
difficulty checked himself.
“Rhoda!” he exclaimed, “you cannot go out in that way. Sit down;
do as I tell you!”
She turned, and, seeing his face, threw herself on her knees
before him.
“Vincent, have pity on me! You can’t, you won’t, do this! I will
kneel at your feet till you promise me to break it off. I can’t bear it!
Vincent, I can’t bear it! It will drive me mad if you are married. I
can’t live; I shall kill myself! You don’t know what my life has been
since we ceased to meet; I couldn’t have lived if I hadn’t had a sort
of hope that—oh, I know it’s all my own fault; I said and did things I
never should have done; you are blameless. But you cannot marry
another woman when you—I mean, not at once, not so soon! It isn’t
three months, not three months, since you said you liked me better
than any one else you had ever met. Can’t you be sorry for me a
little? Look at me—I haven’t even the pride a woman ought to have;
I am on my knees to you. Put it off a little while; let me see if I can
get to bear it!”
She had caught and held the hand with which he had
endeavoured to raise her. The man was in desperate straits; his face
was a picture of passionate torment, the veins at his temple blue
and swollen, his lips dry and quivering. With an effort of all his
strength he raised her bodily, and almost flung her upon the sofa,
where she lay with half-closed eyes, pallid, semi-conscious.
“Lie there till you are quiet,” he said with a brutality which was the
result of his inner struggle, and not at all an utterance of his real
self, “and then go home. I am going out.”
He went into an inner room, and reappeared in a moment
equipped for walking. Rhoda had risen, and was before him at the
door, standing with her face turned from him.
“Wait till I have been gone a minute,” she said. “Forgive me; I will
never come again.”
“Where are you going?” he inquired abruptly.
“Home.”
A sudden, violent double-knock at the door made them both start.
“It’s only the postman,” Lacour explained. The interruption had
been of good effect, relieving the overcharged atmosphere.
“Listen to me for one moment before you go,” he continued. “You
must see perfectly well that you ask what is impossible. Mistake or
not, right or wrong, I cannot undo what I have done; we must
consider other people as well as ourselves. For all that, we are not
going to part in an unfriendly way. I am sensitive; I could not be at
my ease; I think you owe it to me to restore our relations to their
former reasonable state.”
“I will try,” came from the girl in a whisper.
“But I must have your promise. You will go home to your father
and sister, and will live as you have been doing.”
“Do you know how that has been?” she murmured.
“In future it must be different,” he urged vehemently. “Cannot you
see that by being unhappy you reproach me?”
“I do not reproach you, but I cannot help my unhappiness.”
“But you must help it,” he cried half-angrily. “I will not have that
laid to my account. You must overcome all such weakness. The
feeling you profess for me is unreal if you are not capable of so
small an effort on my behalf. Surely you see that?”
“I will try.”
“Good. And now how are you going home? By train? No, I shall
not let you go by train; you are not fit. Come to the foot of the
stairs, and I will get you a cab. Nonsense, you need not drive as far
as the house. Why will you irritate me by such resistance? The fog?
It is as good as gone; it was quite light in the other room. Please go
before me down the stairs, and stop at the bottom. Now that is a
good girl.”
She held her hand to say good-bye, saying: “It is for the last
time.”
“No, but for a long time. You are a brave girl, and I shall think
very kindly of you.”
He found a cab, prepaid the fare, and waved his hand to her as
she was carried off. The fog had become much thinner, but there
was nothing to be seen still save slush underfoot and dim lights in
the black front of the opposite house. Lacour hastened up to his
rooms again, suddenly mindful of the letter which the postman had
left and which was very possibly from Mrs. Clarendon.
No; the envelope showed an unknown hand. He opened it with
disappointment, and found a folded sheet of letter-paper, on which
was written something which had neither the formal commencement
nor the conclusion of an ordinary letter; it was dated but not signed,
and the matter of it this:
“The writer of this is personally acquainted with you, and desires
to save you from the disagreeable consequences of an important
step which you are contemplating. This step you are about to take in
reliance upon the testamentary document which has hitherto been
accepted as the late Mr. Clarendon’s valid will. My friendly object is
to warn you that the document in question will prove inoperative,
seeing that Mr. Clarendon left a will of more recent date, which
disposes of his property in a wholly different manner. This will is
being kept back in accordance with express private injunctions of the
testator; its very existence is unknown to any save the writer of this.
It will be produced either immediately after Miss Warren’s marriage
or upon her coming of age, should the latter event precede the
former.
“The writer of this cannot of course make any bargain of secrecy
with you, but he trusts that you will manifest your gratitude by
heeding his desire and keeping silence in a matter which henceforth
cannot affect you.”
This astonishing communication, awakening memories of old-
fashioned melodrama, was penned in firm, masculine handwriting,
not unlike that of a legal copying clerk. Lacour read it again and
again, his amazement at first rendering him incapable of scrutinising
each particular. He stood for a quarter of an hour with the paper in
his hand, oblivious of everything in life save those written words.
Recovering himself somewhat, he picked up the envelope from the
floor and examined its postmarks; they were metropolitan. At last he
seated himself to think.
 Anonymous letters are, to all save Cabinet Ministers and police
officials, agitating things, if only as examples of a rare phenomenon.
The tendency is to attach importance to them, however strong the
arguments making for a less grave consideration. An anonymous
letter concerning some matter of vital importance to the recipient
will rarely leave him at ease until events have adduced their final
evidence on one side or the other; mystery wholly impenetrable will
often exert a moral influence which no lucidity of argument, no open
appeal, could ever have attained. The present missive had
everything in its favour; it could not have come at a more opportune
moment, it could not have found a mind better prepared to receive
and be affected by it. Lacour must have been singularly free from
those instincts of superstition which linger in the soundest minds not
to be struck with something like awe at the fact of the postmans
knock which signalled such an arrival having come just when it did,
at the moment when he had, after a hard struggle, crushed down a
generous impulse, and was congratulating himself upon his success.
He did not care to handle the paper, but let it lie before his eyes on
the table. He was nervously excited. This message from the
unknown was at once a reproach and a command; as a mere
warning on behalf of his material interests he was not yet able to
regard it.
The rest of the day was none too long to be wholly given up to
brooding on the one subject. With calmness naturally came a
consideration of the possibility that the letter was a mere hoax; yet
he could not earnestly entertain that view. Who should send it? His
intended marriage was known, he felt sure, to very few people;
certainly to none of those frisky spirits who were his associates in
London, and who alone would relish such a form of amusement.
Mrs. Clarendon? Her name haunted him suggestively from the first.
But in that case it would be no mere joke, but a trick seriously
meant to succeed. Was Mrs. Clarendon capable of such a trick to
maintain her position yet a little longer? That was not to be easily
credited; yet Lacour had sufficient insight into his own being to
understand how very possible it is for a character of pure instincts to
reconcile itself with the meanest motives in special circumstances. Of
men and women most justly deemed noble there is not one of
whom it is safe to predict a noble course of conduct; the wise
content themselves with smiling approval after the event. He knew
how terribly hard it must be for her to come down from her position
of comfort and dignity, how strong the temptation must be to
postpone her fall by any means. But in that case—why had she
refused to marry Lord Winterset, and thus not only make herself
independent of Ada’s actions, but rise at once to a social standing
compared with which her present one was insignificant? This was
final, one would think, against the supposition of her being guilty of
such a stratagem. On the other hand, if it were no mere fiction, if
this will did in truth exist, could Mrs. Clarendon be the person who
was keeping it back? It seemed ridiculous to suppose such a thing,
though of course the nature of the will might reveal unimaginable
reasons. What was the law on the subject? Could any one with
impunity act thus? Lacour half rose to get at his tomes of legal lore,
but a reflection checked him: wills have often come to light long
after the testator’s death, and it would be the easiest thing in the
world to create an appearance of chance discovery.
When evening came, he went to his restaurant and dined poorly,
then walked for a long time about the streets, grievously perplexed.
Some action he must take, and at once, but the conflicting reasons
which swarmed in his mind were as far as ever from subordinating
themselves to the leadership of a satisfactory argument. Probabilities
were exasperatingly balanced. At one moment he had all but
resolved to go down at once to Chislehurst and put the letter before
Mrs. Clarendon. But what was the use? If she already knew of it, she
would only profess ignorance of the whole matter; if she knew
nothing, she could afford no help. Equally useless to seek the
counsel of indifferent people; they could do no more than run
through the conjectures with which he was already too familiar, and
would naturally derive high amusement from his dilemma. The joke
would spread. With a sense of relief he arrived at one conclusion: he
must decide for himself and keep the anonymous letter a secret.
 This meant, of course, that his marriage must be postponed. It
was all very well to smile at the extreme improbability of the danger
revealed to him, but the recollection of how improbable it had
seemed would not go far in the way of consolation if he found
himself married to Ada Warren and divorced from her possessions.
There was, from one point of view, some comfort in the thought that
his predicament would be just as grave if he had been about to
marry Ada from pure affection; in no case could they live on his
bachelor allowance. Lacour persuaded himself that this reflection
would help him in the disagreeable task which he had to face. The
marriage must be postponed; not, of course, in a sudden, crude,
business-like way, but with ingenuity and tact, by the exertion of
that personal influence which he believed to be supreme with Ada.
All sorts of occasions for delay would present themselves. Mrs.
Clarendon seemed anxious to have it over (a suspicious
circumstance, by-the-bye), but Ada herself could not of course take
any initiative in the matter, and would be the ready dupe of plausible
representations. That she was deeply in love with him he took for
granted; the pleasant flattery of a supposition which agreed so well
with our friend’s view of his own advantages was not to be resisted.
In a year and a half she would be of age; it was a long time to wait,
with a prospect of mere frustration in the end, but there was no
choice. If the danger proved illusory, after all he would not have lost
much; nay, it was to be remembered that Ada’s inheritance
increased in value from accumulation, and would be yet more
desirable after another eighteen months. Truly, there was a much-
needed point of support; he must keep that well in mind. Of course,
if any considerable heiress, with a more agreeable person, fell at his
feet in the meantime, he held himself free to review his position;
another advantage of delaying, if it came to that.
You will naturally understand that these reflections are not to be
taken baldly as representing the state of Lacour’s mind. He thought
all these things, but he felt many other things simultaneously. I will
just barely hint that when excitement had allayed itself, there might
have been some dim motive, of which Lacour was himself
unconscious, operating towards acquiescence in the unexpected turn
things had taken. This, at all events, is one of the suggestions
helping me to account for the fact that Lacour put away the
anonymous letter that same night and adhered to his purpose of
revealing its existence to no one. He would scarcely have done so if
that day’s mental perturbation had not brought into activity certain
forces of his nature previously without influence on his decisions.
Mrs. Clarendon being with the Strattons at Chislehurst, Ada was
living by herself at Knightswell. Instead of finishing the letter to her
upon which he was engaged when interrupted by Rhoda Meres,
Lacour, having let a day or two pass in nervous awaiting of each
post, rose one morning with the determination to take train to
Winstoke. On his breakfast-table he found a letter from Mrs.
Clarendon—a brief matter-of-fact communication—telling him that
she hoped to be in London that day week, and requesting him to
previously pay a visit to her solicitor, who would discuss with him the
business matters which it was needful to arrange. He pondered the
words of this note, but only with the result of strengthening his
resolve. After very little hesitation he penned a reply, begging that
there might be no needless haste, and intimating, with skilful
avoidance of direct falsehood, that he consulted Ada’s wish in
suppressing his own anxiety for a speedy marriage. “There are
circumstances, as you know,” wrote Vincent, “which make it my duty
to exercise the utmost delicacy and discretion in all that concerns my
marriage. I esteem you my true friend; I have often given you my
perfect confidence, and in return I have asked for your forbearance
when I showed myself weak or inconsistent. You will believe that I
am not incapable of generosity, that I would not selfishly exact the
fulfilment of any pledge which a hint should prove to have been
rashly given. I am but too well aware of my own shortcomings, but
after all there is a certain pride in me which will preserve me from
the errors of vulgar self-confidence. I beg of you, dear Mrs.
Clarendon, not to see in this more than I would imply. I only desire
that there should be no unbecoming haste. Ada and myself are both,
thank goodness! young enough, and, I believe, are sincerely
devoted to each other. Let everything be done with careful
preconsideration.”
He read this through with an air of satisfaction, and posted it on
his way to Waterloo Station. The train by which he travelled reached
Winstoke at two o’clock. As it was a clear day he walked from the
station to the village, which was nearly a mile, then took luncheon at
the inn, and reached Knightswell about half-past three. On asking
for Miss Warren he was led to the drawing-room.
Ada entered almost immediately. They had not seen each other
since the day at South Kensington, and he was astonished at the
girl’s appearance. Her face had every mark of illness; there were
dark rings about her eyes, her cheeks were colourless, her lips dry
and nervous; she had a worn, anxious, feverish look, and the hand
she gave him was hot. They exchanged no more than an ordinary
friends’ greeting, and Ada seated herself without having met his
eyes.
Lacour drew his chair within reach of her, and leaned forward to
take one of her hands, which she surrendered passively.
“What has made you look so ill?” he asked, with surprise. “Is it the
result of your anxiety for Mrs. Clarendon? Why didn’t you tell me
that you were not well?”
“There was nothing necessary to speak of,” she answered, in a
voice which seemed to come from a parched throat. “I think I am
not quite well, but it’s nothing more than I am used to; I have
headaches.”
“You haven’t written to me for a fortnight. Why didn’t you ask me
to come and see you?”
“I supposed you would come before long.”
“You don’t seem very glad to see me, now I have come,” said
Lacour musingly.
“Yes, I am glad.”
 The words had not much life, and the smile with which she
accompanied them was as pain-stricken as a smile could be. Lacour,
still holding her hand, looked down, his brows contracting.
“You haven’t had any bad news?” he asked all at once, facing her.
“Bad news?”
“It is not anything you have heard that has made you ill?”
“Certainly not. What should I have heard?”
Her tone had sincerity in it, and relieved him from the suspicion
that she too might have received an anonymous letter. He leaned
back in his chair smiling.
“What should I have heard?” Ada repeated impatiently, examining
his face.
“Oh, I don’t know. We are always getting news, and there is so
much more of bad than good. Mrs. Clarendon seems to be much
better,” he added, slapping his leg with his gloves.
“Yes. You have heard from her?”
“Several times. I had a letter this morning.”
“What did she say?”
“She spoke of the necessary preparations for our marriage.”
Ada was silent. She had several times moved nervously on her
chair, and now she seemed compelled by restlessness to change her
position. A small ornament on a bracket had got out of position; she
went and put it right.
“What preparations?55 she asked, walking to the window.
“I don’t exactly know. She wishes me to see her lawyer.
Unfortunately,” he added in a joking tone, “you are not one of those
girls whose marriage is a simple matter of the ceremony.”
She turned and came towards him, her hands hanging clasped
before her.
 “That is something I have to speak of. I cannot mention it to Mrs.
Clarendon, and if I tell you now it will be done with. I desire that
there shall be no kind of settlement. Nothing of the kind is enacted
by the will, and I do not wish it. Will you please to see that my wish
is respected?”
“Why is it your wish?”
“I can give no reason. I wish it.”
“I imagine there will be very strong opposition, and not only from
Mrs. Clarendon. I expect the trustees will have something to say.”
Ada’s eyes flashed; her whole face showed agitation, passionate
impatience.
“What does it matter what they say?” she exclaimed. “What are
they to me? What is my future to them? If you refuse to give me an
assurance that my one desire shall be respected I must turn to Mrs.
Clarendon, and that will be hateful to me! I have asked nothing else;
but this I wish.”
“You put as much persistence into it as another would in pleading
for exactly the opposite,” remarked Lacour, his coolness contrasting
strangely with her agitated vehemence. “You know that a wish of
yours is a law to me, and I promise you to agree to nothing you
would dislike; remember that they cannot do without my assent. But
you see,” he added, “that it is not a very easy thing for me to urge. I
have already been made to feel quite sufficiently——”
He interrupted himself. Ada waited for him to resume, still
standing before him, but he kept silence.
“What have you been made to feel?” she asked, more quietly, her
eyes searchingly fixed on him.
“Well, we won’t speak of that. Why do you stand? Come and let us
talk of other things. You do indeed, Ada, look wretchedly ill.”
She averted her face impatiently. Though he had risen and was
placing a chair for her, she moved to the window again.
 “For my own part,” said Vincent, watching her, “I am grieved that
you have set your mind on that. My own resolve was that everything
should be settled on you. I hadn’t given the matter a thought till just
lately, but well, that is what I had determined.”
Ada turned in his direction.
“You have been corresponding with Mrs. Clarendon?” she said,
only half interruptedly. “Yes, you told me. I understand.”
What she understood was clear enough to Lacour, and his silence
was filled with a rather vigorous inward debate. A protest of
conscience—strengthened by prudential reasons—urged his next
words.
“You mustn’t let me convey a false impression. Mrs. Clarendon is
delicacy itself; I am quite sure she would not mean——”
He checked himself, naturally confirming the false impression.
Conscience had still a voice, but the resolve with which he had come
into Ada’s presence grew stronger as he talked with her.
Then she did a curious thing. Coming from the window, she
seemed about to walk past him, but, instead of passing, paused just
when her dress almost brushed his feet, and stood with her eyes
fixed on the ground.
“Do sit down.” Lacour forced himself to say, rising again and laying
his hand on the other chair.
He saw that she trembled; then, with a quick movement, she went
to a chair at a greater distance.
“These things are horribly awkward to talk about,” he said, leaning
forward at his ease. “Let’s put them aside, shall we? We shall have
plenty of time to consider all that.”
Ada raised her face and looked at him.
“Plenty of time?”
“Surely. I have begged Mrs. Clarendon to remember how anxious
we both are to do nothing hastily, to leave her ample time for the
arrangements she will find necessary,—her own, I mean. I am sure I
represented your wish?”
“Certainly,” was the scarcely audible reply.
“It will of course be some time before she is perfectly strong,”
Vincent pursued, noting with much satisfaction what he deemed a
proof of the strength of her passion for him; she was so clearly
disappointed. “Such an illness must have pulled her down seriously. I
should think by the summer she will be herself again. It is wretched
that we are so utterly dependent on others, and are bound to act
with such cautious regard.”
“You have fixed the summer, in your correspondence with her?”
“Oh no! I leave it quite open. But we cannot, of course, wait for
ever.”
Ada sat motionless, her hands in her lap. Her features were fixed
in hard, blank misery. No wonder the girl looked ill. Ever since the
day on which she wrote to Lacour her acceptance of his offer, life
had been to her a mere battle of passions. When time and the
events which so rapidly succeeded had dulled the memory of that
frenzy which drove her to the step, of set purpose she nursed all the
dark and resentful instincts of her nature, that they might support
her to the end. Pride was an ally; if it cost her her life she would
betray by no sign the suffering she had brought upon herself. She
blinded her feelings, strove to crush her heart when it revolted
against her self-imposed deception that she loved this man who
would become her husband. Had she not found a pleasure in his
society? Did not his attentions flatter and even move her? And ever
she heard a voice saying that he cared nothing for her, that she had
a face which could attract no man, that her money alone drew him
to her, and that voice was always Mrs. Clarendon’s. Hatred of Isabel
was in moments almost madness. It seemed in some horribly
unnatural way to be increased by the sight of the pale and suffering
face; a wretched perversion poisoned the sympathy which showed
itself in many an act of kindness. The struggle with her better nature
brought her at times near to delirium. When Isabel’s convalescence
began, Ada counted the days. She knew that Lacour would not
postpone their marriage an hour later than necessity demanded; her
strength would surely hold out a few more weeks. That he did not
come to see her was at once a relief and a source of bitterness; his
letters she read with a mixture of eagerness and cold criticism. She
stirred herself to factitious passion, excited all the glowing instincts,
all the dormant ardours, of her being—and shivered before the
flame. Every motive that could render marriage desirable she dwelt
upon till it should become part of her hourly consciousness. The life
she would lead when marriage had given her freedom was her
constant forethought. She was made for enjoyment, and would
enjoy. For her should exist no petty social rules, no conventional
hypocrisies. In London her house should be a gathering-place of
Bohemians. She herself did not lack brains, and her wealth would
bring people about her. She would be a patroness of art and letters,
would make friends of actresses who needed helping to
opportunities of success, of artists who were struggling against
unmerited neglect. Reading had filled her mind with images of such
a world; was it not better than that dull sphere which styled itself
exclusive?.... When at length Mrs. Clarendon left Knightswell to go to
the Strattons, Ada promised herself that any morning might bring a
definite proposal of a day for her wedding. With difficulty she
restrained herself from asking when it was to be. She had put aside
every doubt, every fear, every regret; her life burned towards that
day which would complete her purpose. And now....
“But we must see each other oftener,” Lacour was saying. “If Mrs.
Clarendon will welcome me———-”
She interrupted him harshly.
“Is Mrs. Clarendon the only person you consult henceforth?”
“My dear Ada, you mustn’t misunderstand a mere form of
politeness.”
“Such forms have always been disagreeable to me.”
 She rose and moved to the fire-place. Lacour watched her from
under his eyebrows. It grew more and more evident how strong was
his hold upon her; he asked himself whether a little innocent quarrel
might not best serve his ends.
“I am wearying you,” he said, rising.
She could not let him go without plain question and answer; it
seemed to her that she had reached the limit of endurance, that her
strength would fail under the trial of another hour. Yet her lips would
form no word.
“In what have I displeased you, Ada?” Vincent inquired, with an
air of much surprise.
“Clearly I have done so. Pray tell me what I have said or done.”
She turned from the fire and faced him.
“When is it your intention for our marriage to take place?”
Lacour was suspicious again. This astounding eagerness must be
the result of some information she had received; she dreaded to lose
him. Did not her desire about the settlement somehow depend upon
the same cause?
“Surely I have no interest in putting it off,” he said, his head a little
on one side, his most delicate smile in full play.
“But you think it had better not be before the summer?”
“Is not that best? I have no will but yours, Ada.”
“I think,” she replied slowly, “that it shall be, not this summer, but
the summer of next year.”
“A year and a half still? For whatever reason?” he cried.
“I shall come of age then,” she continued, looking past him with
vague eyes. “I need consult no one then about my wishes.”
“My dear Ada, you surely do not think I hesitated——”
 “No,” she said firmly, “but it will be better. Have I your consent to
this?”
He walked away a few steps, desperately puzzled, exasperated, by
the necessity of answering yes or no, when more than he could
imagine might depend upon the choice.
“This is a joke, Ada!” he said, coming back with disturbed
countenance.
“Nothing less. I ask you to postpone our marriage till I am twenty-
one.”
Her eyes did not move from his face. If he had said, “We will be
married next week,” she would have given him her hand in assent.
Surely at that moment the air must have been full of invisible
mocking spirits, waiting, waiting in delicious anticipation of human
folly.
“If that is your wish,” Lacour said, “I cannot oppose it.” He had
assumed dignity.
“My constancy, Ada, can bear a test of eighteen months.”
“I will let Mrs. Clarendon know,” Ada observed quietly. “It will
relieve her mind.”
Should he leave her thus? He hesitated for a moment. Pooh! As if
he could not whistle her back whenever it suited him to do so;
women appreciate a display of dignity and firmness. He held his
hand in silence, and, when she gave him hers, he just touched it
with his lips. As he moved to the door he expected momently to
hear his name uttered, to find himself recalled. No; she allowed him
to disappear. He left the house rather hurriedly, and not in an
entirely sweet temper, in spite of the fact that he had gained the
very end he had in view, and which he had feared would be so
difficult of attainment, would necessitate such a succession of
hypocrisies and small conflicts.
How the imps in the air exploded as soon as he was gone!
 CHAPTER II.

M
rs. Stratton was summoned home by her husband’s arrival
just before Christmas. Isabel preferred to delay yet a little,
and reached Chislehurst a fortnight later, accomplishing the
journey with the assistance of her maid only. It proved rather too
much for her strength, and for a day or two she had to keep her
room. Then she joined the family, very pale still, and not able to do
much more than hold a kind of court throned by the fireside, but
with the light of happiness on her face, listening with a bright smile
to every one’s conversation, equally interested in Master Edgar’s
latest exploit by flood or field, and in his mother’s rather trenchant
comments on neighbouring families.
All the Strattons were at home. The four British youths had been
keeping what may best be described by Coleridge’s phrase, “Devil’s
Yule.” Colonel Stratton was by good luck a man of substance, and
could maintain an establishment corresponding to the needs of such
a household. Though Mrs. Stratton had spoken of her house as
being too large, it would scarcely be deemed so by the guests of
mature age who shared it with the two young Strattons already at
Woolwich and Sandhurst, and the other two who were still mewing
their mighty youth at scholastic institutions. There was a certain
upper chamber in which were to be found appliances for the various
kinds of recreation sought after by robust young Britons; here they
put on “gloves,” and pummelled each other to their hearts’
satisfaction—thud—thud! Here they vied with one another at single-
stick—thwack—thwack! Here they swung dumb-bells, and tumbled
on improvised trapezes. And hence, when their noble minds yearned
for variety, they rushed headlong, pell-mell into the lower regions of
the house, to the delights of the billiard-room. They had the use of a
couple of horses, and the frenzy of their over-full veins drove them
in turns, like demon huntsmen, over the frozen or muddy country.
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