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be soon-80 would she. However, I don't see how I can manage it until the Christmas vacation. I have a lot of work this term. And-and I shall have to get a house. God bless my soul, how I shall be cheated by the furniture people! Why, I have never bought any furniture for twenty-five years except a deck-lounge or two and one easy-chair!"
One morning in the fifth week of the vacation Derwent Findlay came down to breakfast with a troubled face and discouraged look, bearing a letter in his hand.
"I am afraid I shall have to go back to my rooms. 1-I have made a dis. covery."
“A discovery?” Mrs. Buckiston was surprised in an ecstatic manner. “Unpleasant! I know it's unpleasant. Poor Dick was always making discoveries, and they were always Unpleasant."
"I know," he answered dryly, “winding-up petitions, El Dorado limited liability companies unable to realize assets, mostly castles in Spain. Mine is not of that nature. I can hardly say whether it's unpleasant or not, except that it will bring to an end a pleasant visit-a very pleasant visit.”
“What is it?" Elaine asked.
“I have discovered a nephew, or rather a nephew has discovered me. Of course I have been aware of his existence, but I never really regarded him as a relation. I have never seen him. When his father died-his father was my brother and lived in Scotland -the boy went abroad. He is a painter. At Christmas and on my birthday he sends me a picture. I have exactly fifteen. They are all warehoused."
“Are they good ?” Elaine was interested.
“I don't know. I never opened them --they were so nicely packed. He is coming home now and proposes to visit
me. I suppose I must go back and see him. He is my only relative."
"Why not," said Mrs. Buckiston, "why not ask him here? There is the room over the porch. He may not like the paper, but the curtains I am sure are artistic And Dick was very fond of art."
Allington Findlay was asked there and came, a handsome, sunny-tempered, lazy man, who had ripened slowly in the sun of a pleasant life. His uncle had forgotten to say that he was wealthy, and Elaine was persuaded that he was poor, a struggling artist full of genius, and the victim of cruel disappointments.
Her young sympathies went out to him while he was yet a stranger.
"So you're Allington," Derwent Findlay said, when his nephew tumbled out of the cab. “Well, we are the only two left of our family. I suppose we ought to see something of each other in the future."
“My dear sir,” the younger man said, "I am delighted to see you at last. I have knocked about Europe for seven years. Whenever I met any Englishman he always said, 'Any relation to the famous Derwent Findlay? I have been proud of you, and have lived & good deal on your reputation."
Elaine, listening, thought the young man was acting diplomatically towards a rich uncle.
"Eh? Famous, eh? Do they say that of me? Ah, but I'm writing a book now; what will they say when it's published? It's going to be my monument when I am dead, Allington."
"Before that, I hope, sir.” “Yes, yes.
Before that, of course, but it's a big work. It's so big that it has blocked me out from the world. When you come to town you must come and see my rooms in Planetree Court. I've had 'em ever since I first settled into chamber practice and gave up running round the country in the
Oxford Circuit. Twenty-five years, sea. Well, well, it's all very natural, Allington, twenty-five years,
and only_" He broke off and looked at hardly a stick of furniture altered.” the foolscap before him which was "And my pictures, sir?"
waiting for the verification of a refer"Ah, yes--fifteen. I have the receipt ence. for their warehousing. You
I In a week Elaine and Allington becouldn't keep them in my rooms. There came very friendly. She used to symwas no room, and the woman who pathize with his imaginary struggles, does for me is very much attached to and he found her sympathy, based on some chromos I picked up cheap at a fraudulent grounds, very pleasant. sale twenty years ago.”
“Go for a walk, Elaine,” the barrisThe nephew laughed heartily.
ter used to say. “Allington will look “There, Miss Buckiston, that is the after you. I should like to come with appreciation the world puts upon the you, only I must get on with that efforts of genius."
chapter on Barnes's summing up and “I am sure," Elaine said earnestly, judgment in Jones v. The Automatic “that your time will come, Mr. Find- Feeding Corporation. It's—it's very inlay. There must always be a period teresting.” of struggle before success. In the And Elaine went with Allington, and darkest moments it is well to look for- it suddenly occurred to her that Cleve. ward and catch some of the light don was a delightful place. which must come."
"You are really going to marry my The artist opened his eyes widely uncle?" Allington asked once. and hid a smile. He had had his suc- “Yes, of course," she answered. cess, and there was a little gallery off "Do you love him?" he asked Piccadilly where fashionable London abruptly. gazed at his canvases in ecstatic wor- “I like him immensely. He is such ship. At this he laughed, but the hom- a good man." age was not unflattering to his soul. “Yes. He's an awfully good sort. Yet there was a certain piquancy in That's the worst of it.” And he struck meeting a woman who was ignorant of a match savagely and lit a pipe that his position and was so charmingly was drawing beautifully and had no anxious to hearten him. And the need for it. woman was fair even beyond most She was puzzled by his words, but women.
thought that he meant contrition for After two or three days the barrister his design upon his uncle's goodwill. plodding happily at his book began to "After all," she said, “he is your only miss his amanuensis. It seemed to him relation. It is quite right that you two that she seized upon slight opportun- should be a great deal to each other, ities to slip from the room.
And he may be a great "I suppose,” he said, “the weather is deal of help to you in introducing you, very beautiful. Now I should never and then when you have made a name, notice that. I go out for exercise, not a big, big name, he will be proud of for pleasure. I believe I used to be you. I am sure that he will be very fond of long walks, but that was a glad to help you." very long time ago. Elaine is young. Towards the end of the week the I daresay she likes the sunshine, and I barrister began to watch the two suppose Patent Law may be very young people very carefully.
If any. wearisome to others. She likes read. body had cared to watch him closely ing novels and poetry. She likes the they would have noticed that he often had an odd wistful look, which made ens, and the waves were running in, bim seem older than ever.
white-crested, to break on the pebbles body was so intent with their own pur- of the beach. suits that they did not notice.
He hurried down a steep way to the He got on rather slowly with his shore, stumbling, shufiling, slipping, work. He often found himself musing, but with no thought for its steepness. staring out of the window or at the On the beach were a few long-shoreceiling, and thinking nothing at all of men watching a light boat battling Patent Law.
with the waters. Mrs. Buckiston fol. Towards the end of the second week lowed him at a long while, consumed Elaine and Allington went out sailing in finding a securer way. just after lunch, and Derwent Findlay, “My good men,” he said tremulously Q.C., went into the odd-shaped room to to the boatmen, "can we launch a boat? commence a new chapter. He worked I will give any sum to launch a boat. for two hours-worked and mused- I must go to them!" spending a great deal more time think- "No boat could be launched in that ing of Elaine than of the intricacies of surf, sir,” said one of them. a famous case upon which he was "It must be!" he cried. “I–I will go working. Then it suddenly dawned alone if none will come with me. I upon him that he had great dificulty used to be a strong rower. My God!" in seeing.
he added, with a sudden burst of emo"It's quite dark,” he said. "It's tion, “I can't stand and wait-I can't!" really most extraordinary. Not five “There's a fishin' smack after her," yet and quite dark! I-I can't be get- the man said. “She'll do a power more ting short-sighted. I've always had good than you or I. Bill Perkins is in good eyes, and after all fifty's no age, her-Bill's a bloomin' good sailor." no age at all. Eh? What? Who's The barrister watched the drama in. there?”
tently, watched the little craft battle Some one had knocked at the door, and the smack growing nearer. some one threw the door open jerkily "Lor' 'elp me," said the boatman, and came in in a flutter of alarm- "but that gent knows 'ow to 'andle a vague, weak, feminine alarm. It was boat. 'E's a well-plucked un, 'e is!" Mrs. Buckiston.
In a dream Derwent Findlay, Q.C., “My dear Derwent,” she cried breath- watched, watched until a cheer which lessly, “have you noticed the storm sounded a long way off, but was really which is brewing?"
at his elbow, marked the saving of the "Storm-eh? Where?"
two dim figures by the smack. "It's as dark as night."
He on the pier when they “Dark! Storm? Thank goodness!"
landed. “What? And Elaine on the sea ?" “God bless you, Allington!" he said,
“Elaine! I never thought of her. I but the artist wrung his hand and thought-never mind what I thought! passed on. "Elaine! Elaine!!" he cried, Elaine! On the sea and storm! with no other words at his command, Come! We must go. Elaine! O God!" and she smiled through white lips, but He went out of the room Mrs. Buck.
looked after Allington hungrily. iston following, wringing her hands. That evening the barrister watched He went out of the house bareheaded,
the two very closely, saw their studi and the wind came and smote him. ous avoidance of each other, noted There was a blackness over the land. how their eyes sought each other, and Out at sea were light lines in the heav. turned aside when their glances met.
In his bedroom he paced the carpet thinking of-of being married and all from the window to the door.
that at my time of life.
You are “It was too late," he said. “Twenty- young, Elaine, and-and it is no good five years ago it might have been dif- linking a young life to an old one. It ferent, but now it is too late. I'm old, would never work, never. Stop, don't quite old. It is natural—they can't help say a word. It would be very uncomit, and thank God! Allington is a good fortable for us both. Here's Allington. fellow, a damned good fellow!"
He's a good fellow-he is my brother's There was sunshine in the garden in son. And he is young, there are no the morning, sunshine which filtered twenty-five years to come thrusting through the trees and made lacework their noses into his life; he hasn't acof light upon the grass.
cumulated dust and old-fashioned noDerwent Findlay sought out his tions. You found out that you loved nephew.
each other yesterday. Oh, yes, I know. “Allington," he said, “come with me. 1-I have learnt to see in the last few I want to talk over matters with weeks." Elaine and you-you must come. She "Sir," said Allington. is sitting on the seat under the chest- "No, don't say anything, just take Dut."
her hand. There, that's better. 1-1 "Sir, I cannot,” Allington answered.
have made rather a hash of the case, The barrister passed his arm through
but my judgment's right now. You the younger man's.
must be very good to her-but there, “Yes, Allington, you must humor you love her and she loves you, andyour uncle. We have only just found and it's all right, eh? I will give Elaine each other, eh? Gad, after all we are away. Why, bless me, she might have the only ones of the family and- been my daughter. If-if I had un. come!”
derstood I might have had just such a They found Elaine with a piece of daughter now when- Isn't it lucky work idling in her lap.
we found out the mistake in time, eh? "Elaine!"
God bless my soul, I wonder what MerShe started and looked up.
vyn would say if he knew. I haven't "You—you have run away from me
made such a mistake for years. There, from the Patent Law, eh? You are a
not a word. Oh, I'll make it right truant, eh? God bless my soul, I ought with Mrs. Buckiston. She will be to be angry, eh?"
pleased. I am glad." "Indeed
When he got back to his room and "You must not interrupt. I-I am
his work on Patent Law, Derwent putting my case. There has been a
Findlay looked at the pile of papers mistake somewhere, eh? Those twenty
and at his books. five years have come back with a rush.
“I never knew that the law was so I tried to forget 'em, but they won't be dry and musty, and full of ashes until forgotten. Yesterday you-you and Al- to-day. God bless my Elaine; she has lington were face to face with death. shown me a little of the sunshine of Then you found out what I have seen
life, and it is well that I have seen befor the last few days. I am an old fore I go over to the great majority. man. I have really no business to be
God bless Elaine—and Allington."
Walter E. Grogan. The Argosy.
THE FUTURE OF THE PROGRESSIVE NATIONS.
Apart from its immediate political causes of war, so far as the Western and military details, the sudden con- nations have been concerned in it, or flict of China, not with one foreign the causes which have threatened to Power but with all the great Powers produce it, have during the latter porof Europe, and the United States of tion of the nineteenth century been, to America, is an event of a singularly an increasing extent, causes which interesting and singularly suggestive have had to do with the relations be character. It may be taken as a sym- tween the civilized Powers of Europe bol of the beginning of an event which -the Powers which are distinctly proboth the philosophical and religious gressive and the stationary or semithinker must have long waited for as civilized races,
which one demanded by the fitness of things whelmingly more numerous, and ocin the great drama of human civiliza- cupy a larger portion of the habitable tion. Sir Henry Maine, discussing surface of the globe. The fact is one democratic theories of progress, in- which deserves a kind of attention sisted on the fact that what is com- deeper than that which politicians are monly called progress is not, as many accustomed to give to it. The political superficial theorists argue, a phenome- events and the political complications non in any way characteristic of the in which it manifests itself are rightly human race generally; but is on the and inevitably uppermost in the minds contrary exceptional and confined to a of practical statesmen. But behind small portion of it. He pointed out, these events and developments of the with impressive and caustic eloquence, hour, the day, the year, the fact has that the vast populations of the East, other and deeper aspects, which appeal which form still the bulk of humanity, to those elements of larger thought are not only out of sympathy with our and philosophy, that, to a greater or Western dreams of progress but regard less extent, exist in the minds of most the very idea of change with hostility of us. For these multiplying points of and intense disgust; and he argued contact between the progressive minorfrom this fact that the millennium of ity of the human race and the stationuniversal democracy, to which Euro- ary or semi-civilized majority, and the pean enthusiasts look forward as the political events arising from them, are inevitable destiny of mankind, is a fe- not isolated phenomena, and are not verish and foolish fancy.
accidental phenomena, in the sense in In present circumstances it is well which many conflicts between the civ. worthy of consideration whether these ilized Powers may be called so. They difficulties, which stand in the way of are not due, for example, as was the
belief in be ultimate triumph war of American independence or the through the world of the civilization of war between France and Prussia, to the Western nations, are not beginning causes which might have been obat length to be dissolved by the chem- viated by sound policy or neutralized istry of events-by a process which by astute diplomacy; nor are they due may prove extremely slow, but which to the exceptional activity of excepnevertheless is now visibly beginning. tional men such as Napoleon. They It is unnecessary to remind the most are due to causes of a wider and incareless student of history that the evitable kind, which neither genius,