as kate mellon had soliloquised, some time had elapsed since mr. simnel had visited the den. a wary general, mr. simnel; a man who, like the elephant, never put his foot forward without first carefully feeling the ground in front of him, and trying whether it would bear; a man who, above all, never was in a hurry. he had not gone through life cautiously and with his eyes wide open without remarking how frequently a little impulse, a little over excitement or yielding to headstrong urging, had led to direful results.

"no hurry" was one of his choicest maxims: to sleep upon an idea; to let information just received mellow in his mind until he saw the very best way to utilise it; to brood over the most promising projects, carefully sifting the chaff from the grain; to wait patiently until the two or three shadowy alternatives had, after due inspection, resolved themselves into one broad path, impossible to be shrunk from--that was mr. simnel's way of doing business. he never allowed the iron to be overheated. so soon as it was malleable, he struck--struck with irresistible force and sure aim; but he never dallied with the half-heated metal, or tried warpings with pincers, or blind struggles with solid resistance. if he had a fault in his worldly dealings, it was that he delighted in hiding the power which he was able to wield, even beyond the legitimate time for its manifestation. there are men, you will have observed, who, in playing whist and other games of chance and skill,--long-headed calculators, far-seers, sticklers for every point of hoyle,--yet cannot resist the temptation of withholding their ace until the best time for its production is long past, solely for the sake of causing a sensation, for the sake of creating a feeling of astonishment among their fellow players that the great card has been all that time in hand. so it was, to a certain extent, with robert simnel.

he had known nothing of love, this man, during his youth. he had had no time for the cultivation of any tender passion. he had been brought up roughly, with his own way to make, with his own living to get. he was not pretty to look at, and no ladies felt an interest in smoothing his hair or patting his cheeks. the matron at the combcardingham grammar-school,--a sour blighted old maid, a poor sad old creature, who yet retained some reminiscences of hope in her forlorn frame; in whom head-washing and looking after linen had not obliterated all traces of feminine weakness, and who remembered early days, when she dreamed that some day some one might make her some kind of a marriage offer, dreams which had never been fulfilled,--this weird sister had her favourites among the boys; but simnel was not of them. they were mostly fat-headed, sleek-faced boys, apply, rubicund, red-lipped, and shiny; boys with reminiscences of home, who kissed miss wardroper as a kind of bad substitute for ma, and who traded on their blowing beauty to be let off easily on tub-night, and to have advances of pocket money before the regular day. robert simnel had no share in these pettings; he was what miss wardroper considered an "uncomfortable lad;" he was "nothing to look at;" and preferred lying on his stomach under trees with a book between his elbows, on which his face was resting, or sitting bolt upright, trying to catch on his page the glimmer from the school-fire, to all the cossettings of the housekeeper's room. in immediate after-life his course of conduct was pretty much the same. combcardingham was not a moral town. many of the pretty girls who worked hard all day dressed in great finery in the evenings, and proceeded to the theatre, to the gardens, to the al-fresco entertainments with which the suburbs of the town were studded, attended by the youth of the place. the conveyancing-clerk of messrs. banner and blair, the common-law ditto, and the chancery manager, were accustomed to speak of annie, and emmy, and fanny, as though the establishment of those eminent lawyers had been the hotel-dieu, and they the interlocutors had been parisian students instead of provincial lawyers; the very copying-clerk, who served writs, and fetched beer for the gentlemen in the inner office, had been seen to wink his eye, and heard to mention some such article as "a bit of muslin." but robert simnel had remained adamant. they dared not chaff him; there was something in his manner which forbade any approach to familiarity. some of the ribalds had once set some of their female friends to get a rise out of the quiet studious shame-faced young man; but the girls had been met with perfect politeness, mixed with such studied coldness, that the game was given up in despair. from that time until he came up to london, simnel was left unworried.

his life in town was equally cold and celibate. he moved very little in the female society of his own class; not that he was unwelcome, but that he disliked it. it bored him; and that was the worst thing that could happen to him when once his foot was fairly set on the ladder. in the old days he had endured men, women, parties, society,--all utterly repugnant to his feelings and tastes; and he had vowed that, should he ever have the power, the severance of such obligatory ties would be the first luxury in which he would indulge; and he kept his word. "my lady," would chirp little sir hickory maddox,--"my lady has bid me bring you this note of invitation to dine with us next wednesday, simnel. formal, you perceive; for you are such a well-known stickler for formalities, that we fain must treat you à la grandison;" and then sir hickory, who prided himself on the construction of his sentences, would double up his little head into his ample cravat, and bow in a mock heroic manner. but mr. simnel managed to find an excuse for not attending the solemn dinners of his chief; nor did he ever attend the pleasant réunions of mrs. gillotson and mrs. franks, wives of the senior officers of his department, to which he was bidden. of course, as a bachelor, it was not supposed that he should receive lady visitors; and though his rooms in piccadilly had witnessed certain scenes which their proprietor described as petits soupers, but which the mother-in-law of the serious saddler who held the shop below openly proclaimed as "orgies," at which certain distinguished coryphées of her majesty's theatre were present, and there was lots of fun and laughter and champagne, and an impromptu galop after supper,--no one could tax simnel with any decided flirtation. he had been very polite to, more than that, very jolly with every body, thoroughly hospitable, genial, and kind; but when they broke up, and punter blair put fanny douglas into a cab, and sis considine walked away with kate trafford and her sister nelly, and the whole party turned out laughing and singing into the street, robert simnel went round the rooms and put out the wax-lights, and picked up bits of lobster-shell and cracker-paper from the floor, and, yawned confoundedly, and was deuced glad it was over.

so he went on his way through life, with that way unillumined by one spark of love until he first saw kate mellon. how well he recollected every circumstance connected with the first glimpse of her! it was on a glorious spring afternoon at the beginning of the season; he was walking with beresford (with whom he was just beginning to be intimate) through the row, when he noticed the heads of the promenaders all turned one way; and following the direction, he saw a mounted female figure coming at a rapid pace down the ride. the horse she sat was a splendid black barb, an impetuous tearing fellow, who had not yet learned that he was not to have his own way in life, and who was making the most desperate struggle to recover such submission as he had been compelled to yield. in and out, in and out, from side to side, he bounded, obedient to the light hand, the scarcely tapping whip and the swerving body of his rider; but his foam-flecked chest and his sweat-rippled neck showed how unwillingly he accepted his lesson. at length, on catching sight of beresford, who left simnel's arm and walked to the rails, kate drew rein, and, while she gave one hand to her acquaintance, she relaxed the other until the horse had full play for his stretching neck. simnel stood amazed at her beauty and at the perfect outline of her supple figure. she was just exactly his style. mr. simnel had no admiration for grecian features or classic mould. ebon tresses and deep dreamy eyes were little regarded by him; his taste was of the earth, earthy; piquancy of expression, plumpness of form, was what he, to use his own expression, "went in for." he would not have bestowed a second glance upon barbara churchill; but kate mellon was exactly to his taste. he filled his eyes and his heart with her as she sat talking to beresford that day; the sweeping lines of her habit, the dainty little handkerchief peeping out of the saddle-pocket, the dogskin gauntlets, the neat chimney-pot hat, the braided hair, the face flushed with exercise,--all these lived vividly in his remembrance, and came in between his eyes and letters for signature to irascible correspondents and long accounts of indebted tax-payers. he was not long in obtaining an introduction to his idol; and then he saw at once, with his innate sharpness, that he had but little chance of pressing his suit. long before that éclaircissement which beresford had described to him, simnel saw the state of affairs in that direction, and knew what kate mellon fondly hoped could never be realised. he did not think that the girl ever would have the chance of so plainly stating the position of affairs; but he knew beresford well enough to be certain that moral cowardice would prevent his availing himself of the position offered to him. nor did simnel blame him in this; that far-seeing gentleman knew perfectly that for any man in society to ally himself in matrimony to a woman with a reputation which was equivocal simply from her profession, no matter how excellent the individual herself might be, was sheer madness. "it isn't," he argued to himself, "as though i were a landed proprietor or a titled swell, who could throw the aegis of my rank and position over her, and settle the question. heaps of them have done that; dukes have married actresses of queer names and women of no name at all, and all the past life has been elegantly festooned over with strawberry-leaves. i'm a self-made man, and they hate me for that, though my status is now such that they can't deny it; but then they'd immediately begin to ask questions about my wife; and if there were a chance of flooring us there, we should be done entirely."

so when mr. beresford had told the story of his adventure with kate mellon, mr. simnel, who had very much slacked off the scent, purely from want of encouragement and a chance of seeing his way, returned to the charge with renewed vigour. beresford had faithfully repeated to his mentor every word of kate's wild outburst; and in that sudden revelation simnel, nothing amazed thereby, had found a strong incentive to farther exertion. kate had hinted at relatives of whom her future husband need not be ashamed. who were they? that was one of the first points to be found out, he wisely looked upon charles beresford as now cleared out of his way. it was not for nothing that mr. simnel had read at the combcardingham grammar-school of the spretae injuria formae; and he knew that the commissioner had probably committed himself for ever in the eyes of the lady of the den. nevertheless, to make assurance doubly sure, he at once used all his influence towards turning beresford's views in another direction; thus farther irritating kate's pride, and preventing any chance of a reconciliation; for this apparently phlegmatic man of business, this calm, calculating, long-headed dry chip of an official, loved the little woman with his whole heart and strength, and determined to miss no opportunity of so winning her regard by his devotion to her cause, and by the tangible results springing therefrom. that must tell in the end, he thought. she is now heart-sore about beresford; she has discovered the foundation of sand on which her first little castle was built; and now she will not touch the ruins or lay another stone. there is but one way to arouse in her any new life,--the keynote to be touched is ambition. if there be any truth in her assertion that the is sprung from a race of which she can be proud, one may work it through that. so mr. simnel worked away. he speedily found that kate's own knowledge of her origin was cloudy in the extreme; but he possessed, in a rare degree, the faculty of putting two and two together and making four of them very rapidly; and he had not been very long chewing the cud of poor kitty's stories of the circus, and the uncle, and all the rest of it, before he saw a clue which sent him spinning far into northumberland by express-train to a place where he saw the circus which kate had named was advertised in those wonderful column era as then performing.

no one accompanied mr. simnel on that journey; no one knew what he did or what he heard; but as the chronicler of these mild adventures, i may state that though not in the least astonished at what was--after a free pecuniary disbursement--imparted to him, he came back to london radiant. the clerks in the tin-tax office did not know what to make of him; some of the young ones thought he had got married; but at that suggestion the older men shook their heads. that was the last thing, they opined, to cause an access of animal spirits. he might have come in for a legacy, or taken the change out of some body whom he hated; that was all they could see to account for his cheerfulness. two or three of the men, mr. pringle of course among the number, improved the occasion by asking for a day or two's leave of absence; a request at once granted by the smiling secretary, who, on the day after his return, announced his intention of making a half-holiday, and wound his way towards the den. he rode through the lodge-gate, and exchanged salutations with the rosy porteress; but as he turned into the carriage-drive he perceived freeman, the old stud-groom, standing at the entrance to the stables, alert and expectant. as soon as the old man recognised simnel, he advanced towards him, and motioned him towards the farmyard. simnel turned his horse's head in that direction, and when he arrived inside the gates and on the straw-ride, old freeman held his bridle as he dismounted.

"a word wi' you, sir," said the old man, putting his finger on his lip and nodding mysteriously.

mr. simnel looked astonished, but said nothing, as the old groom called to a helper, to whose care he relinquished the horse; then taking simnel into a little room and planting him in the midst of a grove of girths and stirrups, the saddles of which formed an alcove above him, the old man produced a short set of steps, and motioning to simnel to seat himself on the top of them, took up his position immediately in front of him, and said, in a voice intended to be low, but in reality very hissingly sonorous,--

"wa?t be matther?"

it was seldom that mr. simnel was nonplussed, but this was beyond him. he had only caught one word, and that he thought better to repeat. so he merely ejaculated "matter?"

"ay, matther!" echoed the old man, this time in rather an angry tone. "wa?t be matther down yon?" jerking his head towards the house. mr. simnel thought that the man was presuming on his position to take liberties, a very terrible crime in his eyes, so he simply elevated his thick eyebrows and echoed, "down yon?"

"thou knowst wa?t a mean, sir, weel enow. wa?t be matther wi' my leddy? wa?t be matther wi' my bright lassie ai've tended this ever so long?" and the old man's face puckered up into wrinkles, and he produced from his hat a cotton handkerchief, with which he rubbed his eyes.

"what do you mean. freeman? i didn't follow you until this instant. is--is your mistress ill?" asked simnel.

"no, not ill; that's to say wa?t folks call ill; always greetin', that wa?t she is,--thinkin' of something yon,--givin' no heed to wa?t goes on close to her face. eyes lookin' far away out into the distance; no thowt of the stock such as she had; hasn't been into the farrier's shop these three weeks,--blister here, singe there, do as 't loikes; miss never says nay now, and that's bad sign; for a more thrifty body never stepped."

"ah, she doesn't take such interest, you mean, in what goes on here as she did."

"int'rest! she cares nowt aboot it!" said the old man. "ther' soommut oop, soommut wring! that's what thee is. ther' can't have been no one a philanderin' wi' her, on and off like,--you understand?"

"i should think not," said mr. simnel, with a face as solid as a rock.

"if i'd thowt that," said old freeman, "and i'd found 'em out, i'd beat 'ems brains out as if it were a stoat!" and as he spoke he struck the palm of his hand with the handle of his hunting-whip in an unmistakably vicious manner. "dunno wa?t's coom to her to-day," he continued, after a pause; "haven't set eyes on her all the morning. hasn't been in t'yard, hasn't been in t'sta?bles, hasn't moved out of t'house."

this latter part of freeman's speech seemed to arouse mr. simnel's fading attention; he looked up sharply, and said,

"not been out of the house all the morning! what does that mean? who was here yesterday?"

"yesterday," said the old man slowly considering; "there were sandcrack coom oop about telegram's navicular,--no more navicular than i am; nowt but a sprain;--and wallis from wethers's wi' a pair o' job grays; and old mr. isaacson as tried some pheayton 'osses; and--"

"yes, yes," said mr. simnel; "no young man; no one in the habit of coming here?"

"not one," said freeman.

"that's devilish odd," said mr. simnel, half to himself; "what the deuce has happened to upset her? i'll go in and see. good-day, freeman; i've brought some good news for your mistress, and i hope we shall soon see her herself again."

the old man touched his hat, as simnel walked off to the house, where he found kate's servant, and learnt from her that her mistress had kept her room all the morning, complaining of headache. from this domestic mr. simnel had a repetition of old freeman's story. not only had she seemingly lost all interest in her business, which formerly so thoroughly engrossed her attention, but for the last few months she had been in every respect a thoroughly changed woman.

"i've been with her four year," said the woman, holding her hands clasped in front of her, and beating time with them at the conclusion of each sentence; "four year i've been with her, and never see no megrims. a cheerfuller lighter-hearteder lady there were not, so long as you was quick. every thing must be done directly minute, and all was right. but latterly there's been nothink but megrims and lowness of sperrits, and no caring for what we wears or what we eats, or whether we eats at all, indeed." this and much more to the same effect, only cut short by simnel's requesting the woman to take his name to her mistress, and say he was anxious for a few words with her.

he sat down in the dining-room and took up a bell's life which lay on the table; but had hardly glanced at it when the door was hurriedly thrown open and kate entered. she was perfectly colourless and trembled violently. as she gave her cold hand to simnel, she asked at once,

"what's the matter, simnel? what's brought you here? something particular to say, they tell me. what is it?"

though mr. simnel was in reality very much shocked at the change which had taken place in her personal appearance, he did not betray it by look or word. there was not a break in his voice as, retaining her hand between his, he said,

"why, kate, is this your hospitality? is this the way you receive visitors, demanding their business in this pistol-to-the-head fashion? suppose i were to say that my pressing business was to look at and to talk to you..

"no, no, simnel; no nonsense. at least not now, please; as much as you like when you've answered me. there hasn't been a--i mean he hasn't--you haven't--confound it, simnel, why don't you help me?" and she stamped her foot upon the floor in rage.

"kate, kate," said he, still quietly, though this little evidence of her excited state touched him very deeply, "i can't tell what is the matter with you to-day. i've come to talk to you and to tell you a little news about yourself--that's all."

"about myself? not about--i mean about no one else? nothing has happened? nothing--"

"nothing that i know of. i only arrived in town late last night, and i have seen no one this morning. what on earth did you expect? now you're flushing again! my dear kate, you're not well, child; you must--"

"i'm all right now," said she, withdrawing her hand; "i'm all right again. it was only some stupid nonsense; i'm a bit nervous, i think.. i'll have some change of air, and see what that will do. i'm as nervous as a cat. had a girl here for a lesson yesterday. fine girl, sister of dick hamilton's--dirty dick's, you know; and she wanted to see me put her horse at the brook. the brute refused, and i couldn't put him at it the second time--lost my pluck--funked it myself--fancy that! first time such a thing ever happened to me!"

"you want change and rest, kitty," said simnel, kindly. "and you want rest of mind much more than mere respite from bodily fatigue. your life lately has been past in a series of storms, in which you have been tossed about, and whirled here and there, in a manner which is now beginning to tell upon you. now, all these starts and flushes and tremors to-day are the result of some fresh worry. what happened yesterday?"

"happened yesterday?" echoed kate, flushing deeply as she spoke; "nothing."

"who was here?" asked simnel, in a mild tone of voice, but fixing his eyes full on her.

"here? who? how dare you question me in this way? who are you to come worming and prying into my affairs? i never asked you to come, and i sha'n't be sorry how soon you go!"

he was not an atom moved at this outburst of rage, at these taunts; at least he did not appear so. he only shook his head, and said sorrowfully,

"unfair, kitty; horribly unfair. i've just come back from a journey of hundreds of miles, undertaken for the object of what you are pleased to term 'worming and prying into your affairs;' and this is all the thanks i get."

she seized his hand, and pressed it warmly. "there, there! forget it: it's all part and parcel of my nervousness, that i was telling you about. now you shall know who was here yesterday. beyond the usual business-people, only one man--scadgers the money-lender!"

"scadgers! the deuce he was! what brought him? did he come to--no, that's impossible. what did bring him?"

"now it's you that are muttering to yourself, simnel," said kate. "make your mind easy; a letter from me brought him here. i wanted a little assistance."

"stuff, kitty! what on earth--oh, i see now. you little flat! you've been paying young prescott's bills for him."

"well, what if i have? you don't mind."

"mind! not i. i love you better for it. oh, i see you smile; but i've been making a few inquiries at the office since i was here last, and i find that it is a case with your pupil and him. he's a fine young fellow, and will do well." it is astonishing how, when we are no longer jealous of a man, his good qualities crop out.

"he is a good fellow; a thoroughly good fellow; a gentleman in every thought," said kate; "and it was only right to give him a clean start again. all young men--all who are worth any thing--kick up their heels at first; and then some fools pull them in tight, and they get sulky and vicious, and never run straight afterwards. but if they're held straight in hand, and have just enough rein given them, they right themselves very soon, and go as square as a die. you'll see now that james prescott will marry, and settle down into a regular humdrum life, and be as happy as the day. that's the only existence, simnel. lord help us! they talk of the pleasures of excitement,--the miserable fools, if they only knew!" and kate heaved a deep sigh, and buried her face in her hands.

"come, come, kitty," said simnel, "this will never do. nothing that you've said can reasonably be applied to your own case. you've had the enjoyment of one style of life, and now let us hope the joys of the other are rapidly coming upon you. you shake your head again. what on earth is the matter with you, child?"

"i can't tell, simnel," said the girl, raising her tear-blurred face. "i can't tell. i've a horrible weight here," placing her hand upon her heart,--"a something hanging over me; a presentiment of something about to happen,--and i haven't the least notion what,--that never leaves me. i'm as flat as a bad bottle of champagne. by the way, i think i'll try whether a glass of that madeira wouldn't--"

"no, no, kitty; for heaven's sake keep off that! the lift given by that is only temporary, and you're twice as down as you were before, when it subsides. you've never asked me one word about my journey yet."

"your journey! what journey? oh, to be sure, you said you'd been away, and on my business. where did you go to?"

"to newcastle-on-tyne. to norton's fields, just beyond the town; where--"

"norton's fields! newcastle! why that's where we used to make our pitch with old fox's circus, and--"

"and that's exactly the place where old fox's circus is pitched at this moment."

"did you go to it?"

"why, kitty, can't you understand that, after what you told me the other day, to visit it, and glean information from its people, was the sole cause of my journey?"

"and did you see them all? is old fox still alive; and madam, with her deep voice and big bony hands; and lucette and josephine--big girls now, and doing the haute-école business, i suppose; and brownini, the clown, is he with them yet? and thompson the barebacked-rider--a conceited beast, he was!--and old bellars the band-leader? lord, lord what happy times those were! happier than i shall ever see again, i know."

"nonsense, kate. your life is just now at its turn. all those horrid days of grinding labour in the circus, all the hard work you've done here, shall be to you like a dream. you shall be a swell, and hold your own with the best of them. ay, and not merely in money,--i offered you that long since,--but i wanted to prove a position for you, and i have proved it, kitty, my darling!" and mr. simnel's usually pale cheeks glowed, and his eyes glistened, and he squeezed kate's hand in the excitement of his feelings.

"you've found out whose child lam, simnel?" asked kate.

"every thing! i've only got to see your father, and wring from him the confession,--and i have the means of doing that, as safe as houses--and you shall be put in your proper position at once, kitty, and a capital position it is, too. your father is a man of great wealth, very highly thought of, moving in the best circles, and eminently respectable."

"and his name?"

"ah, that i mustn't tell you till next time we meet. it's due to him to let him know how much we have learned, and to give him the option of behaving properly. if he refuse, i can put such a screw on him as will compel him at once to do as we wish. and then, kitty," continued simnel, dropping his voice, and looking at her fondly from under his bushy eyebrows "when all my work for you is satisfactorily finished, i shall come to you and ask for my reward."

"you shall have it, robert," she said simply, placing her hand in his. it was the first time she had called him by his christian name, and as he heard it a thrill of delight ran through him.

mr. simnel had ridden away homeward, and kate had thrown herself on a sofa in the dining-room, and was vacantly watching the purple gloom creeping up and ingulphing the landscape. vacantly, i say; for though her eyes were fixed on it, she heeded it not. simnel's description of his visit had awakened in her a thousand memories of old days. the smell of the stables, the tan, and the sawdust of the ring; the lamps, and the orange-peel in the marquee; the way in which the tent-poles would strain and crack in a high wind, and the audience would look up, as though expecting the crazy edifice to descend on their heads; the swinging naphtha-burners flaring in the draught; the dull flopping sound of the first drops of a thunder-shower on the tent roof, causing an immediate consternation and whispering among the non-umbrellaed spectators,--all these rose before her mind. she recollected all the different stages of her own novitiate; heard old fox's thin piping voice cursing her freely for "missing her tip" in clearing the garters, or sticking in the silver-papered hoop; and his wife's hoarse growling at her extravagance in tarlatan skirts and rose-pinked stockings. then, pursuing this train of thought, she remembered what simnel had said about her parentage; and stung with a sudden idea she sat upright on the sofa, unconsciously tapping her teeth with her nails. could it not all be made straight? that was what she thought. her father was a man of position, a man highly thought of and esteemed--so simnel had said; he could be forced to recognise her as his daughter,--simnel swore he should do this. what, then, stood in the way of her being reconciled to, of her being married to charles beresford? she had plenty of money as it was, and if her father were rich as stated, could have the command of more. it was her position, the horse-breaking business, that had floored charley; she saw that at once; but now here she was a recognised swell, bar the illegitimacy; and charley wouldn't mind that with money, and above all with love--oh, such love!--for him. he would give up every one else for her; he would give up that fair-haired woman--ah, good god! the letter! that fatal letter, which she wrote in her mad passion of yesterday! that wild wicked letter was fatal! it would be shown to him; her handwriting would be recognised, and there would be an end to all her hopes.

when the servant came in with the dinner-tray she found her mistress in a swoon.