Classic Audiobook Collection - A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford ~ Full Audiobook [romance]

Episode Date: August 9, 2023

A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford audiobook. Genre: romance In late-Victorian London, Dr. George Brudenell has built a quiet, ordered life around his practice, his books, and the capable management of his housekeeper, Mrs. Jessop. Then a letter upends everything: his sister, delayed abroad, is sending her children ahead to live with him. With three lively youngsters about to invade his calm household, Brudenell turns for advice to the warm, bustling Mrs. Leslie at Petersham Villa and finds himself drawn into a small circle of sharp observation, teasing opinions, and unspoken hopes - especially from Mrs. Leslie's younger sister, Kate Merritt, who has long imagined a future that Brudenell does not even suspect. Desperate for a sensible solution, he seeks a governess, and the arrival of Miss Alexia Boucheafen changes the atmosphere of the house at once. As Brudenell struggles to balance duty and domestic chaos with the demands of his profession, he must also face the unsettling truth that his carefully protected heart is not as untouched as he believed. By turns witty and tender, A Bachelor's Dream explores responsibility, family, and the surprising ways love can enter a life that thought it was complete. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:24:08) Chapter 02 (00:44:00) Chapter 03 (01:13:00) Chapter 04 (01:41:26) Chapter 05 (02:10:31) Chapter 06 (02:46:40) Chapter 07 (02:59:57) Chapter 08 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford, Chapter 1 Now what can be done, said the doctor, that's the question. What on earth can I do about it? He put this question emphatically with an energetic blow of his gloved hand upon his knee, and seemed very desirous of receiving an answer, although he was jogging along alone in his comfortable brougham. But the doctor was perplexed and wanted someone to help him out of his difficulty. He was a bachelor and knew, therefore, that it was of no use letting Patrick drive him home in search of a confidant,

for at home the ruling genius of his household was his housekeeper, Mrs. Jessus. She was a most excellent creature, an invaluable manager of the house, the tradespeople and the maidservants, and a splendid cook. The doctor appreciated her highly, but he was not disposed to ask her advice or to invite her consolation. He beat his knee a little harder, frowned more severely, finally let down the window, put out his head and called smartly. Patrick! Sir, Patrick pulled up the slim, clean-limbed brown horse as quickly as he could in the midst of the hurrying vehicles and huckster's sauls,

which are usually to be found in the Essex Road at about seven o'clock on Saturday evening and looked questionedly down at his master. Don't go home. Drive me to Persham Villa, said Dr. Brudnell. Patrick obeyed rather sulkingly. He did not know what his master could possibly want at Persham Villa, where he had already been once that day, and he didn't know that he himself was exceedingly hungry

and desirous of getting home. He gave the brown horse an undeserved cut. over the ears with his whip, and when he pulled up he did so with a jerk, which he might easily have avoided. I shan't be many minutes, said the doctor, a lighting in front of a comfortable-looking, well-kept house, with red gleams of firelight shining from its parlor windows. Walk the horse up and down to keep the cold off, but don't go far. It's cold enough will both be, I'm thinking, muttered Patrick, gathering up the rains with a shiver,

for it was really a very cold evening indeed, damp and grey, with a biting east wind. If the doctor heard this complaint, he did not heed it, his policy being, when his henchman was attacked with a fit of grumbling, to let him recover his good temper at his leisure. He had hurried up the snow-white flight of steps,

given a vigorous knock at the door, and, being admitted by a neat maid-servant, was asking if Mrs. Leslie was at home. Hearing that she was, he crossed the hall with an air of being perfectly at home, and after tapping at the door entered the parlor. causing a lady who was making tea to utter an exclamation of surprise, and a young lady who was making toast before the glowing fire to drop a deliciously brown slice of bread into the cinders.

Why, doctor, the tea-maker extended a plump hand good-naturedly. You again? You are just in time for a cup of tea. I believe you came on purpose. Hardly that, but I shall be glad of one, if I may have it, Mrs. Leslie. The doctor returned, emulating her light tone as well as he could.

And, after shaking hands with the younger lady, who got up from her knees to greet him, he took a seat near the round table, not in the well-worn, cozy armchair, in the snuggest corner of the snug room, which, with his gorgeous, dressing-gown thrown across it, and slippers warming before the fire, what evidently sacred to someone else.

Of course, although I fancy you rather despise it as a role, not a bit like my Tom. Ah, you see, I'm not like Tom in having some one, to make it for me. Well, that's your fault, I suppose, said the lively woman vivaciously, as she deftly handed the shining copper kettle. I told Kate it was your knock, but she wouldn't believe that you could honor us with two visits in one day.

I thought Dr. Brettnell's time was too valuable, observed Kate, quietly as she resumed. her toasting. She was not nearly so pretty as her sister, although Mrs. Leslie was the elder of the two by twelve years. Maria Leslie had taken life so easily, and turned such a bright face to all its ups and downs, that time had rewarded her at 40 by making her look six or seven years younger. A downright pretty woman she was, bright-eyed, bright-cheeked, bright-haired, and so plump and merry that it was a pleasure to look at her. Kate Merritt was smaller, darker, more grave, and less attractive altogether. Dr. Brettnell liked them both, but he preferred the elder, as most people did.

He enjoyed a visit to Persham Villa. It was almost the only house whose inhabitants he was upon really easily and familiar terms. For he was by nature a shy and retiring man. He had got into the habit of confiding in cheerful Mrs. Leslie, but he seldom taught to Kate, who was too diffident, to make him forget that he also was inclined to be shy. Indeed, he thought so little about her that he had not even a suspicion

that in her quiet, cool, self-controlled, persistent way, she had made up her mind to marry him. Mrs. Leslie did know it, and often rated her sister soundly on the subject. with even a touch of contempt sometimes. You are most absurd to keep that silly notion fixed in your head, she would declare, impatiently. He doesn't care a straw for you, child.

Having you wit enough to see that? If he only knew what a goose you were, he'd pay you the compliment of thinking you crazy. I tell you, he's a good fellow, the best fellow in the world after my Tom, but there's something odd about him in that way. Can't you see that he hardly knows one woman from another, you silly child? I don't, for my part, believe that the man has ever been in love in his life at all. Mrs. Leslie was penetrative.

but in this matter she was wrong. For if George Bretonel had been asked, he would probably have confessed that he had been in love twice. True, his first passion had been conceived at the age of 18, its object being the bosom friend of his only sister, a young lady who owned to 6 and 20, and who had laughed at him mercilessly when the most startling of Valentine's had made her aware of the state of things.

Then, years after, when he was nearly 30, he had become very fond of the daughter of his partner, a pretty gentle, winning creature, some half-dozen years younger than himself, who had girlishly adored him, He had been so fond of her and so used to her He had grieved so sincerely when A month before what was to have been their wedding day She died that he did not realize in the least That he had reached his present age of 43 Without having been really in love at all

He was not unhappy A studious man cold, tactorn, and self-contained as a rule, caring little for general society and devoted to his profession, the want in his life, the blank in his wifeless and childless home, was not to him what it would have been to a more impulsive, less self-reliant nature. If sometimes he instituted an involuntary,

comparison between his contracted hoped and interest as contrasted with those of other men books his work his studies soon consoled him he hardly knew there was a yearning in his breast a vague intangible feeling waiting for a mistress hand to stir it into activity the hand of a woman whom he had never seen scene. And what brings you here a second time, doctor? asked Mrs. Leslie, brightly, as she poured out a cup of tea and handed it to him. Are you going to give us some advice, gratis? Hardly, Mrs. Leslie, in fact, I want yours. Mine? exclaimed the lady vivaciously. It is yours, of course, but upon what subject? this you recollect that i told you my sister was coming home from india with her children to be sure i remember well well i have a letter from her announcing that as she has been out of health for the last month or two her husband does not wish her to travel yet but her children are coming to england they are on their way in fact and coming to me. Dr. Brutnell, in making this statement, did not feel comical, but he looked so, in spite of his grave, refined, scholarly face, and Mrs. Leslie greeted his words with a burst

of hearty laughter. My dear doctor, don't look so tragic. The poor little creatures won't eat you. So they are coming to you? Well, what is your difficulty? merely, what am I to do with them? Why, take care of them, of course. The doctor stirred his tea with an air of helpless bewilderment. He felt that this was all very well as far as it went, and strictly what he meant to do, of course, but it did not go far enough. It was no solution of his difficulty. He felt a distinct sense of injury, too. His sister had got married, which was all very well. She had had eight children, only three of whom were now alive, and it occurred to him that, having the children, it was clearly Laura's duty to look after them. There was an element of coolness in her sending them to him, which he found rather disconcerting.

It opened a prospect of unending domestic tribulation. Laura herself had been an altogether irrepressible child, loud in voice, restless of movement, tireless of tongue, insatiable in curiosity, unceasing in mischief, What would his quiet house be with three editions of Laura running rampant about it? They would invade his study, disarrange his books, frolic in the drawing-room, make quiet and piece things of the past. What could he do with them? What would Mrs. Jessup say?

The doctor shuddered at the thought. The prospect appalled him. You had better get a governess for them, suggested Mrs. Leslie briskly. A governess? This was a ray of light, but he was not sure that he did not prefer darkness. Oh, a governess, he repeated interrogatively. Of course, they will be tiresome, you may be sure. All children are, and Anglo-Indian ones particularly.

at least so I should fancy, and you certainly will not want them disturbing you, while it will never do to have them running riot over the house. Get a good, sensible, responsible person, not too young, and you will find that you need hardly be troubled at all. The doctor felt that this council was good. it was plain practical feasible but there remained a difficulty how was he to become possessed of the sensible responsible person who was not too young advertise suggested his adviser tersely of course how very foolish of him not to have thought of it the plainest possible way out of the dilemma thank you mrs leslie

said the doctor, rising and ticking up his hat. Thank you, I've no doubt that you're perfectly right. I will advertise. He shook hands with the ladies, gratefully with the one, indifferently with the other, and bowed himself out, hurrying to the waiting Patrick,

who had fulfilled his own prophecy in so far that he was by this time cold in every limb. although his temper was exceedingly warm. From the window Kate Merritt watched the Brolem roll away and then turned to her sister angrily, tears in her eyes, a hot flush upon her face. Although she was by nature really obstinate, resolute, and persistent, she often exhibited upon the surface a childish pettiness

with which her real self was absurdly at variance. She spoke now, as a small child might have done. How dreadfully disagreeable you are, Maria. It's too bad, I declare. I believe you do it on purpose. There! Do what on purpose? What in the world do you mean?

cried Mrs. Leslie, pausing sugar-tongs in hand. You know what I mean, exclaimed Kate, scarcely able to suppress a sob. I declare I do not. This is some fad about Dr. Brutnell, I suppose, said the elder sister, resigningly. Do me the favor to be intelligible, at least, Kate. What is it that you mean? Why did you advise him to advertise demand, Miss Merritt? Because it was the most sensible advice I could give him. Is that the grievance?

What objections have you to his advertising? That I know very well what it will come to. He'll take your advice and advertise and get some woman into his house who will pet the children and coax and wheedle them until she gets completely round him. and then we know what will happen cried kate with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes mrs leslie looked at her and had some difficulty in restraining a laugh nonsense child dr bradnell will no more fall in love with his governess than he will with anybody else for goodness sake do try to be more sensible A nice opinion of you he would have if he could only hear and see you now. I must say, I should be ashamed. If I were you to spend my time fretting and crying after a man who didn't care a pin about me, like a lovesick schoolgirl, dry your eyes and come to the table,

whoever the poor man gets for a governess i hope she may have more common sense than you i am sure and the sooner he advertises for her the better if that unruly brood is to be here so soon he would never have thought of advertising but for you said kate resentfully probably not retorted mrs leslie tersely but now he will do it and quickly if he is sensible mrs leslie was wrong the doctor did not advertise for a governess although when he left he was firmly resolved upon doing so he drove home quickly to his handsome house in cannonberry and enjoyed an excellent dinner by the bright fire in his comfortable dining-room with a renewed appreciation of of the excellent mrs jessup then he summoned that lady in his presence and with very little circumlocution broke to her the news of the promised invasion and the suggested panacea finding that mrs jessup took the matter on the whole amiably he felt considerably relieved in mind and began placidly to smoke his pipe over the times the leading article was stupid so porphyrrhic the tobacco soothing the fire hot he was just hovering in delicious languor upon the very borders of dreamland when a knock at the door roused him abruptly of course he was called out had the call been from a well-to-do patient who fostered a half-fancyed illness he might have been more put out than he certainly was when

upon turning into the street he felt the keen east wind nipping his ears but it was from a poor house lying in his ear's but it was from a poor house lying in the midst of a very labyrinth of squalid back streets and foul courts and yet but a mere stone throw from his own comfortable dwelling the doctor did all he could for the patient a dishevelled woman who had fallen while drunk and cut her head he bound up the wound gave a prescription and he bound up the wound gave a prescription and leaving directions with the voluble Irish charwoman who filled the place of a nurse left the close, evil-smelling room, glad to breathe even the tainted air outside, and as quickly as he could, retraced his steps. He had left the last of the wretched narrow streets behind him, and was turning into a wider road, which led by a shortcut to the edge. Dacent Thirlfair when he heard a shriek, a terrible cry of agony or fear, perhaps both, and there, not more than a hundred yards before him, standing out black against the surrounding grey, two figures were frantically struggling, a man and a woman.

George Brutnell, slight and wiry in figure, was active and swift as a boy. He shouted and ran, but before he could reach the two, the man had violently wrestled his arm free and raised it in the air. There was a flash of steel as it descended, a shrill cry that broke off into a moan, and the doctor, hardly able to check himself, almost stumbled over the woman as she fell at his feet. end of chapter one recording by linda mary nielsen vanc v c chapter number two of a bachelor's dream by mrs hungerford this leber rock's recording is in the public domain dr brundell's first rapid glance about him as he recovered his balance assured him that pursuit would be futile the men had darted off down a narrow turning which had led into a maze of streets already his rapid footsteps had ceased to echo on the pavement he was lost by this time in the biss sea restless throng of saturday night foot passengers the doctor abandoning any idea of chasing and securing him lost not a moment in doing what he could the short street was a new one

having on one side a neglected piece of wasteland where bricks gravel and mortar were flung in confusion upon the other a row of half-finished houses a curve at its upper end hid the thoroughfare beyond although the sound of wheels and the hoarse cries of hocksters were audible to him as he dropped upon one knee and gently raised the inert figure blood was upon it he felt it and knew that it was straining his hand had no one heard that dreadful thrilling cry but himself it seemed not he shouted loudly with the full power of his lungs help help murder hair help he was heard for as he loudly shouted again voices answered him and in a few moments he was heard for as he loudly shouted again voices answered him and in a few moments moments, a group of men and women had gathered about him, eager, excited, questioning. Before he could answer them, they made way for a surgeon of police whom Dr. Brettnell happened to know. He explained hastily, the not commended.

The sergeant was cool and professional. Pity you weren't quick enough to nap him, sir! He went down upon his knee and turned to. the light of his lantern upon the ghastly face. Hmm, young and a spanker to look at. I should say. Wonder if it was robbery. Is she dead, sir?

No, the doctor laid her gently down, his practiced hand over the heart. No, she's not dead. The blow was aimed at her heart, but something in her dress, a corset probably, turn the weapon aside. Call me a cab, somebody. You're off duty, I think, Sergeant.

Can you come with me? I am, sir. Always happens so when there's nothing anything doing, muttered the sergeant, discontentedly. Here's another of our people that ain't, though, as a second sergeant forced his way through the group, followed by a constable. Baxter, you'd best step round and report this little job and not lose any time about it, either.

It's attempted murder. That's what the game is. Chap made off as if he'd got springs in his heels. The second officer bent down as the first one had done, glanced at the bloodless face, asked a question or two, and started off at a smart pace. the fringe of the crowd hurrying after him. The doctor looked at his companion, repeating, Can you come with me? I may want assistance.

With pleasure, sir, you'll take her to the hospital, I suppose? No, my house is nearer, and unless the wound is looked to at once. I don't answer for the consequences. There is no objection, I suppose. The sergeant thought there could be no objection, although the hospital was the usual thing. The doctor put aside that consideration contemptuously. From what he could see of the wound, he was prepared to state professionally that any delay would be highly dangerous. The sergeant yielded the point respectfully, but protestingly, and the cab came, bringing an excited

crowd in its train. There was no lack of proffered help. But the doctor and a surgeon lifted the insensible woman into the cab between them. On arriving at the doctor's house, the two men carried her indoors. Then bells rang, made servants hurried, exclaimed, and questioned. And soon the door of the library was closed upon all except Mrs. Jessop and the doctor. The sergeant retired to the dining room and meditatively took an inventory of its furniture and appointments as he awaited further developments. Noticing the doctor's decanter of Choice Old Port, which was still upon the table where he had left it, the officer helped himself to a glassful, drinking it with evident relish. Half an hour passed before the doctor entered. He took his seat thoughtfully by the fire,

and motioned to the sergeant to draw his chair nearer. The wound is not much, merely a deep flesh wound, he observed abruptly. Glad to hear it, I'm sure, returned the sergeant politely. She has lost a great deal of blood, will be much weakened, and is totally insensible now, Dr. Brundell continued, but no vital part is touched, not the fault of that scoundrel, though, Sergeant. Ah, replied the sergeant intelligently, the doctor had motioned to help himself to the whine,

and he did so now with contemplative deliberation. Then you think it is a case of intended murder? I take it, sir? As far as my judgment serves me, yes, I should say the blow was meant to kill her. Indeed, only the steel of her corset saved her. Hmm, I thought as much. Now, as to motive, sir, have you got any theory? Robbery, I suppose. Ah, as the sergeant shook his head with a wise air, you don't think so then no i don't sir maybe of course but i doubt it a man don't use a knife when his fists will do as a rule and look you here sir said the sergeant leaning forward to place his broad hand for a moment upon the doctor's knee when you find an old gentleman with a bald crown or a spectac old lady with a bag and umbrella tipped over neat in a corner, you may put it down to robbery,

for you won't find anything in their pockets. I'll wager, but you find a good-looking fellow with a ha-port of rat poison inside of him that he didn't put there himself, or a young woman stabbed. That's as handsome as that one, jerking his head towards the door, and you won't go far wrong if you put it down to jealousy. The doctor sat silently pondering. The sergeant slowly filled his glass again. You've examined her dress, of course, sir. Anything in the pockets? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Nothing torn, no appearance of having being robbed? No, merely the cut where the blow was given. Just so, sir, about the weapon, an ordinary knife, should you say? No, from the appearance and general character of the wound, it was caused by a two-edged blade. Hmm, sort of a dagger, stiletto kind of thing.

queried the sergeant. I should say so. The sergeant gave a prolonged whistle with an air of intense satisfaction. Supports my idea, you see, sir. A man going about with a dagger in his pocket usually means to use it. A case of jealousy.

That's what it is. It's surprising, I'm sure, the way a man will put his neck into a rope if there's a woman to other side of it. You wait till this young woman comes round, and you'll find that that's about the size of it. The work of some hot-headed young fool she's thrown over. I expect, or maybe, she's bolted from her husband,

and it's a case of elopement. Shouldn't wonder, for the handsomer they are, the more mischief they get up to. That's my experience. I hope you are mistaken, said the doctor, rising and looking thoughtfully at the fire. I hope you are, but we shall see. Fill your glass, Sergeant. Thank you, sir, I am sure. The sergeant obediently filled his glass for the fourth time and held it critically between his eye and the light. Well, we shall see, as you say,

When do you fancy you'll be able to speak to her, may I ask? Impossible to say. She may be sensible tomorrow, or the shock may cause a fever, in which case her condition may become highly dangerous. I can't possibly say. Pity, there isn't something about her by which she might be identified. mused the sergeant thoughtfully, but ill all be in the papers tomorrow,

and it will be odd if it doesn't catch the eye of someone who knows her, but she's French, if I don't mistake, or at any rate, not English. Dr. Brunnell, recalling his impression of the ghastly face, as he had seen it, first in the light of the sergeant's lantern and afterward lying upon a pillow hardly whiter than itself silently endorsed this opinion

no decidedly she was not english but he did not think she was french the sergeant thoughtfully emptied his glass and set it down upon the table we'll do all we can of course but it strikes me that the chances of nabbing the man don't amount too much unless the young man comes to herself in time to help us and if she does it's about twenty to one that she puts us on a wrong scent well i'm on duty again directly and i'll be going will you step down to the station with me sir certainly if you think it necessary the sergeant thought that it might be as well and the doctor put on his hat and coat and walked with his companion and walked with his companion to the police station, where the inspector on duty, who had received one report already, listened to his statement, wrote it all down in perturbole, and approved with some warmth of the sergeant's theory as to jealousy. Fiss or a knuckle-duster did well enough for robbery. The inspector observed oracle. It was only when a man went a bit off his head. A bit off his

head that he took to daggers, and there was more of that sort of thing about, presumably meaning jealousy that anyone would credit. Though, when it came to going it to that extent, the expector's private opinion was that no woman was worth it. Is there much chance of capturing this man, do you think? Dr. Brutnell asked. why that depended if the young woman came to herself save to-morrow and told the truth you would know where you were but if on the other hand the young woman chose to put them on an altogether false scent which was rather more likely than not.

Why, where would they be? Feeling that he could not successfully answer this official poser, the doctor bade the sergeant and the inspector good-night, and, repeating his former assurances of perfect willingness to do whatever he could in the affair, walked out of the police station. At home, by the dining-room-fired, he found the invaluable Mrs. Jessop waiting for him.

Well, Mrs. Jessup, and how is our patient now? He inquired cheerfully. He did not feel cheerful, but Mrs. Jessup had shown some slight reluctance and resentment at being suddenly called upon to assume the function of nurse to a totally unknown and much too handsome young woman. and he thought it only prudent to conciliate her.

Pretty much the same, sir, hasn't stirred so much as a finger or opened her eyes, though whether or not it's a natural sleep I couldn't take upon myself to say. I'll step upstairs again with you in a moment. What I fear is fever, consequent on the shock. if we can keep off that she will most likely awaken sensible enough i hope so i am sure for the sake of catching that cowardly villain whoever it was he must have meant to murder her you think sir inquired mrs jessop smoothing her cap ribbons thoughtfully i'm afraid so poor girl she is quite young Yes, sir, and most remarkably handsome. No doubt, sir.

She is a foreigner. I fancy. It is most unfortunate that there is nothing on her by which we can identify her. By the way, I did not notice. Did you see if she wore rings? No, sir. Not a wedding ring? No, sir.

And not a trinket. of any kind about her? Not one, sir. Nothing whatsoever? Nothing whatever, persisted the doctor amusingly, as he held out his hands to the fire. They were cold for the February night air was keen. There was this, sir, said Mrs. Jessup abruptly.

She held out to him upon the palm of her plump hand a tiny roll of paper, tied with a wisp of faded red silk. Where did you find this? In a little pocket inside the bosom of her gown, sir, it looked as if it had been made for it. Have you read it? No, sir, it's gibberish. The doctor untied and unrolled the little packet, then looked at it by the gaslight. It was covered with it. characters of a deep red color, curious and fantastic, and to him absolutely meaningless. It looks strange, uncanny, witchlike. Was it a charm? The doctor studied it wonderingly for a few moments, and then laughed at the thought of such an absurd fancy assailing him. He rolled up and

retied the little packet. Well, that won't help us much, he said, as I thought we must wait for light from her, poor girl. Take care of it, Mrs. Jessup. She might attach some fanciful value to it. Dr. Brutnell, standing by the bed in the comfortable room, to which the unknown woman had been carried, looked down at her curiously and scrutinizingly.

Upon the white pillows he saw a pale face lying, a face that was exquisitely chiseled, the head crowned by a wonderful mass of thick black hair. Beautiful, he muttered under his breath and turning away. I should fancy it was jealousy. The next day's papers can tell. a sufficiently thrilling account of the attempted murder of a lady in Rockmore Street. But although an elaborate description of the victim's person and attire was given and enlarged upon with due journalistic skill,

it brought no anxious troop of friends and relatives to inquire at Dr. Brettnell's door, and the best efforts of the inspector and his subordinates to track the would-be murderer came to ignomious grief, for the only person who could perhaps have put them upon his track lay tossing in a delirium of fever. End of chapter two. Chapter number three of a bachelor's dream by Mrs. Hungerford. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Hang the Brats, exclaimed Dr. Brunnell angrily.

If this goes on for long, they'll drive me mad, I swear. He was annoyed, shafed, irritated, more out of temper than he had ever been before. The preceding week had been to him a period of Pugetor The calm of his house was broken. His study was no longer a sanctuary. The maids were flurried. Mrs. Jessup spoiled the soup. The bachelor transformed suddenly into a family man,

without any preliminary steps, was amazed and bewildered. The sufferings of his married acquaintances filled him with a grotesque feeling of pity, with the sincerest sympathy, he especially commiserated Laura's husband, for the three children had turned out to be three empathetic additions of Laura, with additions.

Just now the uproar which had caused the master of the house to spring up from the dinner was more than usually voliferous. The three had escaped from their extemporized, and had shouted and tumbled tumultuously down the staircase and into the hall. The street door happened to be open and the consequences were disastrous. One rushed down the steps with a scream triumph, which changed into a shrill shriek of anger as he was pursued, captured,

and brought back by Patrick, in spite of violent kicking and struggling. another backing unconsciously toward the kitchen staircase overbalance and descended with a succession of startling bumps fell into a tray of glasses with a terrific crash while the third and youngest not precisely comprehending what was the matter but being of a highly sympathetic temperament threw himself upon the devoted power Patrick, screaming, kicking, and scratching furiously, which added to the shouts of the youth, whom Patrick carried upside down, and the whales of the unfortunate whom Mrs. Jessup had just rescued from the debris of the glass, swalled the uproar into a chorus that was almost deafening. The doctor sat down again, and took up his knife and forced. with an energy which sent the gravy flying over the snowy cloth. Confound the little wretches.

I'll advertise tomorrow, he said. The noise outside subsided a little as Mrs. Jessup appeared upon the scene, but the next moment it broke out again, growing louder as the staircase was mounted. Evidently Mrs. Jessup intended to put the rebels to bed. a resolution which did not apparently please them, for Dr. Brunnell distinctly heard his elder nephew threatened to punch the head of that worthy woman, while his brother and sister appeared to be trying to dance upon her toes.

Then came a cessation of the hubbub, sudden and soothing, and the doctor finished his dinner in peace, crossing the hall toward his study a little later, with the intention of getting a book to add to the enjoyment of a fine, very fine-flavored cigar, he encountered Mrs. Jessup, somewhat flushed and tumbled, coming downstairs, and stopped to speak to her. Well, Mrs. Jessup, got rid of your charges for tonight, eh?

He said good-humoredly, that I haven't, sir, for to go to bed they wouldn't. I've seen a good many children, but never did I see children so set upon their own way as them children, declared Mrs. Jessup, emphatically. The doctor felt that this was correct, his opinion being that any children in the least degree resembling Laura's, luckily did not exist anywhere. Oh, spoilt, Mrs. Jessop, he remarked judicially, Spoilt, that's it.

They'll be better you'll find when we get a good strict governess for them. And that reminds me, I must certainly advertise for one tomorrow. I don't know how it is that it has slipped my memory for so long. So they're not in bed, the young rogue, say? No, sir, they're with Miss Bochiffin. With her? You should not have allowed it. You should not have let them go in, said the doctor, quickly and preemptorily.

I couldn't help it, sir, returned the housekeeper stolidly. They started making such a racket of stamping and screaming outside her door that she heard and opened it to ask what was the matter. Of course they were for rushing in before I could keep them back, and so she said, let them stay a while, and she would keep them still, and so there they are, and she telling them some fairy-tale nonsense. Well, well, exclaimed the doctor, and then added, how does Miss Bootshifin seem today? Better I think, sir, she seemed so. She asked me to say that if you were at liberty,

she would be glad if you could spare her a few minutes. Tell her I will come up presently, said Dr. Brunnell, going on to his study. Don't let those young torments stay there long enough to tire her, Mrs. Jessup, if you please. She is still very weak. But when he went upstairs half an hour later, he found that Mrs. Jessup had not yet succeeded in getting the young torments out of Mrs. Bucchafian's room. Miss Bucchafian was sitting in a great chair by the fire,

her dark hair streaming over her shoulders, and with the chicken grouped about her, floss on her knee, Maggie perched on the arm of her chair and Tom kneeling at her feet, all three listening intently to what she was telling them. What it was the doctor did not hear, for the group broke up at his entrance. Tom sprang to his feet, Maggie jumped down, and Miss Boochafian let floss slip from her knees to the floor. Oh, Uncle, I wish.

you hadn't come cried tom it was such a lovely tory lamented maggie whose five-year-old vocabulary was but limited while floss whose name was short for ferdinand and who had perhaps not yet fully recovered from the shock of his tumble down the kitchen stairs contended himself with surveying his relative with an implacable expression as he sucked his thumb. I will finish the story tomorrow. Perhaps, said Mrs. Boutchefen, quietly, Go to bed now. See, Mrs. Jessup is waiting for you. They went without a murmur.

Indeed, they hardly looked sulky, but walked off in the wake of Mrs. Jessup, very unlike Laura's children. The doctor thought he was amazed and stood for a few moments after the door had closed behind them, quite silent, and looking at Alexa Bouchafin. A month had passed since the night of the attempted murder in Rockmore Street, and although during that time she had lived under his roof, George Brutonel knew no more of this girl than her. name. One thing, however, he did know and was growing to know better day by day that she was beautiful, with a beauty that was to him unique, startling. He had seen none like it before. She had risen as the children left the room and stood with her hand resting upon the mantel shelf. Her eyes were

gazing downward at the fire, her head above the level of his. He looked at her, thinking how beautiful she was, and thinking, not for the first time either, that she was not sure whether that very beauty did not repel rather than charm him, for it seemed to have at once the glitter of ice and the hardness of stone. Her large, dark, bright eyes seemed to pierce him, but they never touched his heart. A smile sometimes broke the perfect lines of her lips, but never reached those eyes. The natural play of her features seemed to be checked. She appeared to be as incapable of tears as of laughter, of grief as of joy. No rush of warm blood ever tinted the strange pallor of her cheeks with crimson. Her voice was rich and full,

but there was a jarring note in its melancholy music. The girl was like marble, breathing, moving, living, but marble still. The doctor waited for her to speak, but either from perseverance, or indifference, she stood like a statue and would not even raise her eyes. He was forced to break the silence, which embarrassed him, and he knew that he spoke awkwardly. I think, he said, that you wish to speak to me. Yes, sir, if you please. This was another anomaly. Her words were always of a meek and submissive character. but her voice, her look, her gestures were those of a queen. The doctor felt this, but hardly its increduity,

as she slowly resumed her seat and signed to him to be seated also. I am quite at your service, of course, he replied as he sat down. But first let me ask how you are feeling. I am well, she answered, bravely. A little weak, still perhaps, but it will pass. I wish. Ah, pardon me, I am forgetting that I am not to thank you, sir. She had attempted to thank him before, when she first recovered her senses and realized her position, but he had sensitively deprecated that on the same day she had told him her name, told him that she was, told him that she was, French, that in England she was friendless, and that of what little she possessed she had been robbed by the man whom he had seen attack her, a man whom she had never seen before, and this was all that he knew about her. He wanted to know more, but he sat before her wondering,

how to phrase his questions. In spite of his curiosity, he would have deferred them had it been possible, but it was not possible, and he broke the silence timidly, for as he spoke she looked at him full in the face with her dark eyes. Miss Bu Chaffin, if you are strong enough to allow of it, as I said, sir, I am well. I must, with your permission, ask you a few questions. he hesitated almost confused under her steady gaze i am presuming that you would rather reply to me than to be questioned by a police officer i do prefer it sir then said the doctor this man who so murderously attacked you you can tell nothing about him nothing sir i know nothing absolutely nothing absolutely you do not know his motive ah sir you forget he robbed me true true the doctor returned a slight flush tinting his cheeks

for he fancied that he detected a mocking gleam in her eyes a suspicion of a smile curving her lips true i had forgotten pray pardon me he said but the attack so violent, the blow so savage, the weapon must have been so keen that it is almost impossible to connect it with a mere attempt to commit a paltry robbery. I thought, and the police thought, that it was a case of intended murder. Ah, sir, they are clever, your police, but they sometimes make mistakes. Is it not so? Dr. Brudanel's face flushed crimson. Was she laughing at him? It looked like it.

He was taken aback, disconfitted. He did not know how to go on. But she gave him no chance, for she spoke herself, emphasising her words by rapid gestures and much energetic waving of her white hands. Listen then, sir. This is all I know, that this man followed me, why, I have no idea, that he came upon me suddenly in the solitary street, and asked me for money, that, when I refused, he tore my purse away,

that, as I seized his arm and screamed, he wretched it free, and struck me with what you tell me was a dagger. i know no more but what you tell me nothing george bruntnell listing and looking believed after all his own fancy was but a fancy the theory of the sergeant and the inspector was only a theory a mere empty possibility unsupported by fact he abandoned both ideas forthwith Miss Boucherfin, could you recognize this man? I think not. I am, sure not. She shook her head, her eyes fixed musingly upon the fire. It was dark.

No, I could not recognize him. Nor could I, unfortunately. And yet you saw him? I saw him, yes, but only well enough to know that he was young, tall and dark, and such a description would apply equally well to a hundred men within a stone's throw of the house at the present moment. True, admitted Alexia Bootschaffen calmly. Since you can give me absolutely no clue, I am afraid that the chances of capturing him, particularly after the lapse of a month are so small as to be worth nothing.

Less than nothing, she assented, it would be better to abandon the endeavor. I am afraid that is what will have to be done, from sheer lack of groundwork to work upon. But it is horrible, said the doctor, rising with an unusual display of excitement. absolutely horrible to think of the scoundrels going scot-free it is admirable that such things should be possible in the heart of a great city such as this a smile parted the girl's lips but it did not light up her drooping eyes the smile seemed to imply that such a city held secret stranger things than that Dr. Brutnell did not see the smile. He was a clever man, but it would have been far beyond his fathoming

if he had seen it. He returned to his chair and sat down again. In asking my questions, Miss Boochoffin, I have forgotten yours. I assume that you wish to ask me some. Yes, she looked straight into his eyes again, and her slender hands were clasped firmly together. He fancied he detected an expression of doubt and anxiety in her glance.

Sir, I have said that I am almost strong. You know that I am so. It follows then that I shall be able soon to leave here. Yes, it certainly followed that such an event would take place. The doctor acknowledged it, but at the very thought he experienced a strange sense of loss. She was so young, so beautiful, so friendless. Where would she go? What would she do?

He was silent and waited for her to continue speaking. It seemed that she drew courage from his look, for after she had glanced at him with eager scrutiny, she went on abruptly. I shall be able to leave, but I do not desire it. I am alone. I am friendless, penniless. Dr. Brutnell, I beg you, let me remain.

Remain? he echoed in bewilderment. Yes. Why should I not? I have been a governess. It was to be a governess that I came to. this England of yours. It is a governess that you require for the children, your nephews and niece. Your housekeeper told me so, but a little while ago. I should be industrious. I could teach them well. Suffer me then to remain. The doctor hesitated, feeling uneasy,

astonished, puzzled. Did she mean it? Did she fully realize what she was doing. She, young, beautiful, talented, in pleading to be tied down to the dull routine of a nursery governess, did she remember that beneath his roof, her position might be questioned by carping feminine tongues? He remembered it, not for his own sake, but for hers, but he only answered, overcoming his first feeling of surprise. But my dear young lady, you must be perfectly aware that your attainments are far beyond those required for the teaching of such young children as these. Ah, sir, yes, but are beggars than choosers?

Dr. Brundell got up, walked to the window and back again. again. It is a fact, he said slowly, that in London you have no friends. Yourself, she replied, and beyond? No one. Then, until you wish to leave, or until some more suitable and congenial sphere of work is opened for you, remain, my child. George Brunnell, speaking thus, had forgotten her beauty, her queen-like dignity, and remembered only her youth and helplessness. He went downstairs with an odd feeling, thinking how quickly, with what almost disconcerting rapidity she had, after her point was gained,

recovered that icy composure of manner, remembering, too, how coldly. and lifeless her hand had laid in his when she gave it in saying good-night. But he was glad that she was going to stay. He had that curious sense of relief from tension, which is the result of anxiety removed, as though to protect her, to be friend and keep her safe, were an object which had long lain near his heart. He was a little astonished, but he explained his feeling to himself.

She was too young and far too beautiful to live friendless in the modern Babylon called London. He rang for Mrs. Jessup and explained to that excellent woman this new phase of affairs. Mrs. Jessup, respectfully listening, received the news in a manner which could, could hardly be termed gracious, but prudently gave but small expression to her opinions. Mrs. Jessup's situation in the doctor's household was a very comfortable one, and she did not desire to lose it. But Mrs. Jessup's eyes were as keen as those of most women, in fact, which she often insisted upon when talking to various comforts, friends, so keen indeed that they sometimes describe things which did not exist.

At present, however, Mrs. Jessup merely told herself that if Miss Bouchiffon had not been quite so handsome, her chance of remaining in her present quarters would not have been by any means so great. Mrs. Jessup, having formed this acute conviction, walked out of the dining room and went down to her snug sitting room, where, sitting down by the fire, she fell to darning a tablecloth while she thought things over. She had arrived at a conclusion that would have astonished her master, and she chanced to want more cotton. and rose to get it from her work-box, and among the reels and hanks of tape she saw something that astonished her. I declare, said Mrs. Jessup to herself, if I haven't forgot to give it to her after all.

It was the only thing which had been found upon Alexia Bouchafin, the tiny roll of paper, covered with, its grotesque red characters and tied with its piece of faded silk, rather ashamed of her forgetfulness and neglect. The housekeeper took it and went upstairs at once to the new governess's room. Alexia was sitting by the fire, almost as Dr. Brutnell had left her, her chin drooping upon her hands, her face almost hidden by her hair. She started at Mrs. Jessop's entrance, flung back the black tresses, and looked up. What is it?

I am sure I am very sorry, Miss, Mrs. Jessop faltered, finding herself forced into somewhat reluctant respect before the bright gaze of the imperious eyes. And I hope you'll excuse my forgetfulness, I quite forgot until just this moment to give you this. For a moment the girl stared languidly at the extended hand, then with a cry sprang suddenly from her chair,

seized the little packet and pressed it passionately to her lips and to her breast. Ah! she cried, he did not take it. He did not take it. He did not take it. He did not take it. incoherently repeating the words and redoubling her strange caresses take it miss exclaimed the astonished mrs jessup why what should he want to take it for the murdering villain and how could he take it seeing that it was fast inside the bosom of your gown go cried alexia pointing to the door with an impure curious gesture. Leave me to myself. The housekeeper went with the impression that Miss Bouchiffin had fallen upon her knees beside her chair, and that she was sobbing, harsh, suffocating sobs beneath the shining veil of her streaming hair. Peace returned to the doctor's household.

The children were calmed, manageable. They stood in awe. of their governess, but they liked her. In the stayed Canaanbury House, Mrs. Bouchiffin was popular. Her name was the only stumbling block. Her pupils could not pronounce it. The servants blundered over it, and Mrs. Jessup declared it heathenish.

By slow degrees it was dropped, and she became merely Mademoiselle. end of chapter three chapter four of a bachelor's dream by mrs hungerford this libravox recording is in the public domain children said miss bochefen abruptly you have been good to-day and it is fine we will go out the children engaged in turning their nursery into a very fair imitation of pandemonium, and in driving the unhappy nursemaid, nearly mad, stopped their various operations at these words from their governess as she entered, and stared at her, partly perhaps because they were not conscious of having been less troublesome than they usually were, but more because of her last sentence.

Did mademoiselle really say we will go up? She had been their governess for six weeks now, and during all that time, had not once been outside the street door. Do you mean you'll take us? cried Tom, the eldest, and the readiest-tongued. Shant go with Ellen? I shan't? muttered floss, sulkily. Nasty Ellen. Won't go with Ellen, whimpered Maggie, with a thumb in her mouth. You will all go with me and Ellen, said Alexia. Quietly, beginning with her deaf fingers to remove grubby pinafores and brush tumbled hair, will you get ready, Ellen?

And do not waste time, please, or we shall lose the best part of the afternoon. Ellen departed willingly. She was not sure that she liked Mademoiselle, but there was no doubt that she intensely detested her daily task of taking the three troublesome brats for their walk. If Mademoiselle liked to try it, well, Ellen only breathed a fevering wish that she might like it. That's all. Miss Bochiffin, making great haste over the toilet of her pupils, had them ready and was ready herself before. Ellen, and filled up the spare time by pacing the hall from end to end as she waited. Not hastily,

the perfect grace of her every motion was too complete for haste, not even impatiently, for the set expression of her face never changed, and no flush of excitement tinted the ivory pallor of her cheeks. If her eyes were a little brighter, a little wider open than usual, it was very little. Mrs. Jessup, passing through the hall as the governess and pupils waited, confessed to herself with reluctant honesty as she looked at the stately young figure in its plain dark dress, that there was no denying that Mademoiselle did look like a queen. It was the beginning of May, and, for a wonder, hot and bright enough almost for July, the afternoon sun shone down warm and brilliant.

As Alexia stepped out into its glare, she stopped and almost staggered, put her hand to her throat, while she shivered violently. The round-eyed-made, watching, was quite sympathetic. No wonder she felt odd, poor young lady, remembering what had happened to her the last time she was out. Where shall we go? demanded Tom, tugging at Alexia's hand. Want to go and see Mrs. Leslie? Murmured Maggie.

I'm going to look at the shops, declared Floss with emphasis. I can spend my shilling if I want. want to, Uncle George said, No, no, not today, demurred the governess quickly. Listen, children, the shops you can see any day. Tomorrow, perhaps. But today we will go somewhere else. Where else?

Demanded Floss, critically, with a fond look at the shilling which he had drawn out of his knicker-bocker pocket. into the park, said Alexia. We will all ride there in a tram car. You will like that? Finsbury Park, question Tom. Oh, all right.

I don't mind. Only I say, let's go up to the water where the ducks are. Yes, let's, added floss, restoring the shilling to his pocket. Want some buns to feed them with, poor things? murmured Maggie with pathetic intonation. Yes, you shall go to the water and have the buns, said Alexia. She had been walking rapidly all this time,

almost too rapidly for the little feet trotting beside her and did not pause or speak until they reached Highbury Corner, which was more crowded and busy than usual this warm afternoon. A tram car was waiting, and she hurried her charges into it, taking no heed of Tom's desire to sit where he could see the horses, or of floss's loudly expressed determination to ride on the roof. She took her seat and, leaning back, drew her black gossamer veil tightly over her face, and closed her eyes, seeming to become totally oblivious of her.

her surroundings. Ellen, sitting with Maggie on her knee, distracted by Tom's ceaseless questions upon the one side and by Floss's incessant demands to be put on the roof upon the other, felt a little sulky and injured. Really it was too bad of Mademoiselle. If she came out with the children, she might at least take her share in amusing and keeping them quiet. Ellen, at any rate, was not sorry when the park gates were reached. A plentiful supply of buns was procured, and the children, with shrill screams and whoops of delight, started off for the ducks and the water. Oh, dear, cried the nursemaid, quite dismay at suddenly finally finally finally,

finding herself alone with the governess. They'll lose themselves, mademoiselle. There are such a many other children about. We shall never find them. Keep them in sight, then, said Alexia. Follow them, Ellen. You had better not wait for me. My head aches, and I cannot walk fast. But we shall lose you, too, mademoiselle, demurred the girl hesitatingly. No, no, I will follow you slowly. Go, they may fall into the water if you linger. Miss Maggie's nigh, sure too, with the buns, said the girl,

taking the alarm and without any more loitering she darted after the runaways. Alexia did not follow. For a moment she stood on the broad gravel walk, looking about, her. Groups of figures were scattered about the smooth turf. Young ladies with novels, old ladies with crochet and poodles, nurses. The girl looked, not at, but around and beyond them. Her great eyes seemed to be searching, as if surprised and not seeing something and yet dreading to see it. Then their expression changed for a moment. For a moment. her figure swayed. The next she was walking gracefully, slowly, languidly, toward a rustic seat,

which stood upon the smooth greensward in a somewhat lonely spot. It stood at an angle formed by two flower beds and was backed by a clump of shuppery. Upon it there was one figure seated, that of a man. The governess approached this figure slowly. A middle-aged man, loosely dressed, hair turning gray, dark complexioned with a scar on his cheek. A scar such as a slash with a keen-edged knife might have made. She approached and passed him. She did not look at him. He did not look at her. He appeared to be quite absorbed in absently cutting and fashioning a rough stick with the aid of a long. large clasped knife. He gazed before him abstractedly, brushed the splinters of wood from his knee, and laid the knife down upon the seat beside him. The edge of the blade uppermost. The girl shuddered.

The ivory pallor of her cheeks grew gray beneath her veil. She passed on round the clump of bushes and returned. The man had abandoned his wife. whittling, and, with his chin upon his hand, whistled as he looked down at the grass at his feet. His right hand played absently with the open knife. Now the edge was upward, now downward, now he hath closed it, then opened it wide again. Alexia Butchiffin's breath came rapidly. One violent throb of her heart almost six. suffocated her, but graceful, upright, stately, she passed the seat as though it were vacant.

She did not appear to glance at the man sitting there, toying with the knife, and whistling under his breath. She passed him, and, as she did so, her gloved hand made a swift motion, and a white object gleamed upon the turf behind her. A paper had fluttered from her fingers and lay close to the rustic seat. Tom, Floss and Maggie, flinging pieces of bun to voracious ducks, were delighted, far too absorbed to remember their governess and Ellen, finding herself fully occupied in keeping their hats on their heads and themselves outside the railings that surrounded the lake, had also forgotten Miss Boochiffin completely.

The girl was quite startled when she saw the tall dart figure suddenly beside her, the great bright eyes shining through the black veil, and how pale she was, her cheeks were quite white. Lord Mademoiselle, she cried, with loud voice sympathy, how bad you do look. I'm tired, said Alexia. abruptly. Children, are you ready to go? Ready? Why, we ain't had half a walk, demurred Tom. I'm hungry, exclaimed Floss, tugging at Miss Bouchoffon's gown.

Maggie went and threw all the buns to the ducks. She did, little stupid. You're Tori, I never. You eaten too yourself, you did. Maggie declared indignantly, Use a greedy boy. A didful greedy boy. Isn't he a greedy boy, mademoiselle? Never mind. We'll get more buns as we go out, said Alexia.

Come now, children. I am tired. My head aches. We will come some other time. Tomorrow, perhaps, and stay longer. Come now. They walked away from the water. and gained the broad path leading to the gates.

Alexia slackened her pace, and, releasing Floss's hand, but still retaining Maggie's, fell slightly behind, sauntering slowly, playing with the buttons of her cloak, keeping her eyes fixed straight before her. They were passing a seat close to the edge of the path, upon which a man was sitting. A middle-aged, loose-jointed man with gray hair, a bright object lay at his feet.

A small ball of gorgeous tints. The child saw it, uttered a delighted cry, and struggled to release her hand. It was released, and she started to pick up the prize. It was hardly in her grasp when she screamed out, frightened, for the man with the gray hair had taken hold of her arm and was speaking to her, not roughly, although his voice was harsh and stern. My little one, see, the lady has dropped this paper, give it to her, and as for this bobble, take it, go. He released her. The child was scared, but she held in one hand the paper he had given to her. In the other, the gay-colored ball. He pointed preemptorily after the tall

retreating figure of Alexia Bouchiffin, and frightened at his frowning face the child darted toward mam'selle. Mamsel, mamsel! she tugged at the governess's dress, at her hand. Ook! What, he dave me! holding up the ball. Nice, nice man, very nice. Floss Sant have it. He thamped. Floss, a giddy boy. He dived me for myself. Oh, and yes. With a sudden remembrance of something less absorbing than the ball, she held up the paper. A mirror-folded scrap. Alexia seized it eagerly. held it fast in her hands, asked almost inaudibly, Who gave it to you, child? Him did. You dropping it. Him, said the child, turning round to point.

Then she cried a blankly. Oh, him's gone. Miss Boochoffin glanced behind her hastily. The seat by which the gay-colored ball had lain was empty. She opened the paper and read with her. in it, written in a blood-red color, the run word absolved. Dr. Brutnell found his nephews and niece unusually excited and talkative when, as was his custom, he came up after dinner to see them in Miss Bouchiffin's pleasant sitting

room. The rides in the tram cars, the park, the buns, and the ducks were enlarged, upon in turn, and then Maggie produced her ball, and plunged into such broken and lavish praises of the fiery nice men, that the doctor looked at the governess for enlightenment. A gentleman in the park, sir, gave her the ball, exclaimed Miss Boochoffon gravely, "'Annezzu a letter,' cried Maggie, "'and also returned me a paper that I had dropped,' amended. Alexia. I see. Well, don't smash more windows with the ball than you can help, said the doctor, putting his knees down upon her feet. He rose and approached the stately young governess,

standing beautiful in the light of lamp and fire. One hand drooping at her side, the other lying upon the marble of the mantelpiece, hardly whiter and hardly. colder. George Brutnell had begun to think that her coldness and gravity suited her beauty. Laughter blush's dimples would have spoiled it. Her frigid manner did not repel him now. It had a charm for him which no warmth and graciousness could have had, and yet perversely, he longed intensely to see her both kind. and sweet. How beautiful she was! He glanced at her reflected face in the mirror, and winced and frowned and bit his lip, seeing his own beside it, a small, plain, dark, clean,

shaven man. He was her very anthesis. Intellectual-looking, pleasant, refined, he might perhaps claim to be considered, but how utterly, painfully unattractive he must be to her i am glad to hear that you have been out mademoiselle he said kindly the day was so fine it tempted me replied alexia a very good thing the confinement was telling upon you resumed the doctor let me advise you to try get out once at least every day i shall do so sir with your permit mission. Now that the first plunge is taken, he remarked good-humoredly, well, that is wise. Don't go too far, or let these youngsters trouble you too much either out of doors or in, and you will soon feel the benefit. You are very good, sir, murmured the governess, but I am quite well, indeed quite strong. You must let me,

be the best judge of that, mademoiselle. I am afraid you have overtaxed your strength today. You are looking tired. I am not so, indeed. Not at all too tired to play, if you desire it. Thank you, mademoiselle, said the doctor simply. There was a piano in the room, a tolerable one, and Alexia moved slowly toward it and sat down. It had become, quite an institution. This half-hour's playing which she gave the doctor when he came upstairs to bid the children good-night. He was disappointed if, by any chance, she missed it, perhaps because he hardly saw her at any other time, and because it was something to be able from his distant seat to watch her as she played. He learned her attitudes, her expressions, the poise of her head, the curve of her full throat by heart, at these

times. He did not care for music, and had no knowledge of the air she played, but he knew that he had heard no playing like hers. The magic of her fingers made the instrument speak. Thanking her now, he did not leave the room as usual, but lingered even after her. the children had said good night and gone to bed. Alexia looked at him questioningly, and he began to speak, awkwardly, as she saw, but with how much reluctance she did not suspect. Mademoiselle, you will pardon my recalling it,

but you recollect when you first expressed a wish to remain here? Yes, she spoke quite quietly, but her eyes involuntary widened and her lips parted. She put her hand to her bosom, felt the stiffness of paper there, and then the hand fell at her side again, and she sat looking at the fire. You recollect, resumed George Brutnell, with a reluctant troubled glance at her averted face, that I told you then how perfectly aware I was that the point of my own. post you wished to fill was completely below your capabilities, that in it you would be thrown away

in short, and that at the best it could only be considered as an occupation for you until something better should offer. I remember, sir, the doctor hesitated, that sir, with its stiffness, its cool formal respect, jarred upon him more and more day by day, and she hardly ever failed to use it. He was too diffident to remonstrate with a few gay words, as a more confident easy man would have done, and shafed under it in silence. I'm happy to tell you that something has offered.

It was a lie. and he knew it. The thought of losing her, cold and statuesque as she was to him, made him miserable, filled his heart with a keen pain, a pain which had brought very near the inevitable revelation that he was bound to make to himself. Alexia raised her head and looked at him, but she did not speak. He went on. It is, in the family of one of my patients, not as a governess, but as a companion to his wife. They are wealthy, and she is refined, cultivated, and kind-hearted woman. You could, I think, hardly fail to be comfortable with her if you care to accept the post.

He paused again, but finding her still silent went on, that you would, be upon terms of perfect equality, I need not say. This lady, Mrs. Latimer, would like to see you, if you care to think further of it. Alexia looked into his face with her great somber eyes. Sir, do you then wish me to leave here? Wish, he echoed, was there really a sorrowful almost reproachful intonation in her voice he was foolish enough to fancy so weak enough to encourage this sudden rapid beating of his heart because if not she went on gently i would rather stay here if i may mademoiselle are you sure of that consider quite sure i am comfortable here it is home. You have been so kind to me. Ah, sir, do not send me away. She spoke entreatingly, eagerly, and to herself she added, pressing her hands again upon her breast. If he sends me from this

house, I am lost. My child, said George Brudnell simply, again remembering only how young she was as he spoke to her thus protectingly, Stay if you wish, and as long as you wish, you shall leave only when you yourself desire it. I shall not do that, murmured Alexia softly, and then, having no further excuse for remaining, he went away. The doctor fell into a reverie before his study fire presently, and forgot the book upon his knee.

He had the pleasant consciousness of an uncongenial task, consciously performed, and without its anticipated unwelcome results, being left behind. It was not an idea of his own, which had caused him to inquire among his patients for a suitable situation for Alexia, Butchiffin,

but the hints and then downright urgings of his friend Mrs. Leslie. Both she and Kate Merritt had seen the governess, for in her kindness of heart the elder lady had paid more than one visit to Laura's children. Mrs. Leslie had been astonished at Alexia's beauty and stateliness, sympathetic and questioning over her story. and upon hearing that she was to remain in the doctor's house, had been amazed. A conventional-minded woman, with all her kindness of heart, Mrs. Leslie, had been shot. Perhaps she might not have been so had there been no scandalized and indignant influence upon her own side.

but Kate had been excessively voluble upon this incipient fulfillment of her predictions, and had let her sister have very little peace indeed. Finally, Mrs. Leslie had summed up the whole case to the doctor by assuring him that it would never do. Well, it would have to do, he decided, when he roused himself sufficiently to know what he had been thinking about. The girl should stay if she preferred it. That was certain, in spite of all the opinions in Christendom.

He rather enjoyed this outrage upon the proprieties, forgetful altogether that the same thought had been in his own mind. He was glad to know that she had been, was tranquil and safe, nothing more, consciously, yet. In of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 of A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. "'Mademoiselle, didn't you say we could go to the park again if we were good?' said Tom,

looking up from a smeary attempt to get a simple addition sum to prove, and sucking his pencil dopefully as he surveyed the result. Don't want to go to the park. Want to go to the shops and spend my shilling, exclaimed Floss, dropping a prodigious blot upon his copy of capital B's, and instantly smearing it over the page with his arm. shall go to the park, I shall, wants to see the ducks, poor things, and the nice man, cried Maggie, as usual, completing the trio, and screwing up her face over the mysteries of A, B, A, B. Can't we go, Mademoiselle, demanded Tom. Go where? asked Alexia. She had been leaning against the window frame, staring out blank. her face was paler than usual, the lines of the mouth more rigid, her hair even more coldly absent and abstracted.

Her pupils had spoken to her half a dozen times, and she had not heard them. Would not have heard them now had Tom not tugged impatiently at her gown. Why, to the park, as we did last week, can we go? I don't know. We will see. Get on with your lessons now. What is that? Come in!

A tap had sounded at the door, which was now opened, and the doctor entered. The children scrambled down from their seats and ran to him. Miss Bouchiffin, turning from the window, arched her straight brows with an expression of questioning surprise. For Dr. Brutnell to appear in the schoolroom at that hour in the month. morning was an unprecedented event. Good morning, mademoiselle. He took the cold, carelessly yielded hand into his own for a moment. Don't let me disturb you. I simply came to express my hope that you are not alarmed last night. Alarmed, echoed Alexia. Then you did not hear it? With a look of mingled relief and astonishment. Well, I am glad of it. But you must,

I sleep very soundly. You were the only person in the house who was not aroused. I sleep very soundly. She looked at him keenly, noting that his face was drawn and that his eyes were dull, showing that he had not slept. I did not know there was anything wrong. Not here, I hope? No, not here exactly, but it is a most horrible thing. he drew a pace nearer to her dropping his voice so that the sharp little ears that were all eagerly listening should not catch the words a most horrible thing a murder mademoiselle a murder repeated alexia nothing less and not a hundred yards away from this door miss boochoffin had leaned back almost fallen against the window frame she was so pale that he said hastily, I beg your pardon. I spoke to abruptly. I have frightened you. No, no, I am not frightened. Go on, pray. How was it? Who was it? As to who it was, as to who it was, a man. As to how it was, he was stabbed to the heart, answered the doctor shortly, and he was found dead and brought here?

Yes, at three o'clock this morning, and brought here by the police, but he was dead, and had been dead for at least half an hour. I could do nothing. How horrible! How very horrible! murmured Alexia. Did you say, sir, that he was an old man? No, he is a little more than a lad, a mere boy, nineteen or twenty at the mull. A handsome lad, too. I should fancy he was not English. Is there a clue as to who did it? Question the governess? Not that I know of yet. The police have had no time to work, you see.

He reminded her gently. Ah, yes, I was forgetting, sir. Have they taken it away? From here? Not yet. It must be removed to the mortuary to a wait. the inquest, of course, he hesitated, and then added, in a voice which, in spite of all his efforts, was almost tender,

You are not afraid of its being here, are you? Afraid! A smile as curious as fleeting, parted the beautiful lips, of Alexia Bouchafin. No, I am not afraid. I asked, because, sir, may I see it? See it? george bruntnell was so startled and shocked that he doubted if he heard all right surely mademoiselle you do not mean what you say yes if i may she spoke quite steadily and coldly

i should like to see him this poor murdered boy if i may i have never seen death and i should like to know how it looks to be stabbed to the heart surely a strange uncanny fancy in this lovely young creature there was something morbid about it which the doctor did not like it almost repelled him until he recollected how nearly this fate had been hers he did not like a scenting but already he was so weak with regard to her that he could refuse her nothing so he said reluctantly come now then if you wish quite quietly only bending her head by way of reply she followed him out of the room and downstairs to an apartment on a level with the hall where the murdered man had been carried. On the threshold he stopped, looking at her doubtfully. Mademoiselle, are you sure of yourself? This is no sight for you.

Yes, she answered steadily. Pray do not fear, sir, I shall not faint. Let me see. He stood aside and let her enter the darken room. The blinds were drawn down. cooling liquids had been sprinkled about. There was nothing to horrify, nothing to discuss. The rigid figure, covered with white drapery,

lay stretched upon the table. Without faltering, Alexia advance and remove with a steady hand the cloth at the upper end, looked at the dead face thus revealed. A boy's face, indeed, beautiful even in the same. death, smooth-cheeked, the dark down on the delicate upper lip, hardly perceptible, the black hair clustering upon the white forehead almost like a child's. The governess looked at it long and steadily, and one hand went to her bosom, as she raised her eyes to the doctors.

Tell me, did he suffer much? No, impossible. Death must have been almost instantaneous. I doubt if he was able to cry out. Pray come away, mademoiselle, you will faint. I should not have let you see this. A voice in the hall called the doctor. He was wanted. Had been sent for in haste, someone was dying. He went quickly to the door to reply. Alexia Bouchafin bent down. Her hand gently swept the hair from the dead poise forehead, and for a moment her lips rested upon it.

Poor boy, she murmured. You were too young, too weak. It was cruel. I did my best to save you, but I could not. Mademoiselle, pray come. said the doctor, turning from the door. I am coming, sir, replied the governess, and with that she gently replaced the sheet, and followed him quietly from the room.

Dr. Brutnell had a busy day, a day so filled with work that, coming after his sleepless night, it exhausted him. It was later than usual when he reached home. to find his dinner spoiled, and Mrs. Jessup's temper ruffled. So tired was he that, when the meal was over, he fell asleep in his chair, entirely forgetting for once his regular visit to Miss Bouchoffin's sitting-room to bid the children good-night. But his thoughts were all of her, and he dreamed of her as he sat,

dream that she was in some trouble grief danger of which he did not know the nature and was helpless to relieve vague as it was the dream was to him dreadful and the struggle that he made to find her to save her was so intense that he awoke awoke to see her standing within a yard or two of his chair a letter in her hand the usual calmness of her face gone her very lips unsteady he started to his feet and seized her hand the dream still clung about him and he did not realize her reality then he exclaimed his feet and he exclaimed his own exclaimed, seeing the change in her. Mademoiselle, what is it? What is the matter? You are in trouble. Yes, she said faintly.

She was trembling, and he gently induced her to sit in the chair from which he had risen. Pray pardon me, sir, she said, but I am troubled. I do not know what to do, and— She faltered, glancing at him. It seemed natural to come to you. Sensible, practical George Brutnell, was far from sensible and practical, when in the presence of those glorious eyes, which looked at him beseechingly.

He did not know it, but he had entirely bidden adieu to common sense when Alexia Bouchoffin was concerned. He said gently, what is the matter? Tell me, am I to read this? If you will, she let him take the letter, and he saw that it was written in a boyish, wavering hand, and that it commenced affectionately with her name. It was short, for the signature to which his eyes turned instinctively was upon the same page and was your brother Gustav Butchaffen. The doctor repeated it aloud. Your brother, mademoiselle, you have heard me speak of my brother, sir? Certainly, yes, but I thought he was in Paris.

I thought so too he was there three months ago when I last heard from him. but the post he held was poor miserable he hated it and he was threatening then to leave it and come to england as i had won he did so a month ago and has found that the bad could be worse for he writes that he is penniless sir and starving and he writes to you for help poor child exclaimed the doctor pity yes but ah sir he is so young a boy he is two years younger than i am only nineteen alexia urged deprecatenly and whom should he ask poor gustave we have no other kin who care for us "'Where is your brother?' inquired the doctor. "'Close here in London, but I forget the address.' She pointed to the letter which he still held. "'Sir, if you read, you will understand better, far than I can explain.'

Dr. Brutnell read the letter. "'Just such a letter as a foolish, impulsive, reckless boy may write, and certainly describing a condition that was desperate enough. The doctor returned it and asked doubtfully, Mademoiselle, what do you wish me to do? You wish to help him? Ah, sir, yes, she cried eagerly, and then stopped faltering. But I have no money, she said, her head drooping.

The doctor walked to the end of the room. came back and stood beside her my poor child I understand you but it must not be why should the little you earn go to your brother at the best it would help him only for a very little time for I see that he says he has no present prospect of employment in a week or two he would be in his present state again something else must be done. Ah, sir, it is easy, so easy to speak, said the governess bitterly. What else can be done? Who is there that will help him, poor Gustave? He is even poor, more helpless than I, for in all this England he has not even one friend.

It needed only these words and the glance that accompanied them to turn the doubtful notion that was in the doctor's mind into a resolve. But he had a sufficient sense of his own imprudence, even now to hesitate a little before speaking again. Madame Moselle, he said gently, I know that a lad, such as your brother, brother must be often placed at a great disadvantage in his endeavors to get on if, as you say, he is alone and friendless. Being a foreigner increases the difficulty, no doubt. You must let me see if I cannot remedy it. You will help him, cried Alexia eagerly. She rose, her face flushing, her eyes sparkling. It was the first time he had seen them shine so.

The first time that a crimson flush had dispelled that curious ivory pallor. Her beauty dazzled him. He thought her grateful for the help offered to a brother whom she loved. In her heart, with perfect coolness, she was thinking him a fool, and triumphing in the victory which she foresaw that she would win through his folly. It was her first-fall knowledge of her power over him. Tell me what I must do, she exclaimed. Write to your brother and tell him to come here, returned the doctor.

He spoke quickly, refusing to doubt or falter. I have no doubt I shall be able to help him to a fitting situation before long. Until then he must remain here. You will have at least a satisfaction of knowing that he is safe then. You, you do not object to the suggestion, he added with sudden humility, afraid that he might have spoken too coolly, too imperatively. With a sudden movement, she seized his hand and pressed it. Object? I?

Ah, sir, how can I? When you are so good, so more than kind. She stopped faltering. My poor Gustav will thank you. I cannot. For what I can say but thank you a hundred times. Tut tut, said the doctor, lightly, recovering his self-possession as she released his hand.

You make too much out of it. It is nothing. I am only too pleased to be able to serve you. You will write your brother? At once, sir. She was turning to the door when a thought occurred to him. At last lingering touch of prudence and caution made him say, Mademoiselle, you have not told me, how did your brother know where you were, where to write to you?

By the papers, sir, by what you call the reports of police, she said, turning and replying without the least hesitation. It was the first thing that he saw, my poor boy, that account of me. but he would not come here or let me know he was in England, lest I should be troubled about him, and he did not wish me to know besides, that he was poor and distressed. I am sure of that, although he does not tell me. She left the room and ran fleetly upstairs to her own sitting-room. The children were in bed, and there was no one to see her as she drew her writing case toward her, and wrote swiftly, I have succeeded. My cause was won before I had time to plead it. You are at liberty to come here.

If, once here, you will succeed in doing what you desire, I cannot tell. It is your affair, not mine. I have done my part. Come then, and remember yours, my brother. Dr. Brutnell, paying his visit to the governess's sitting-room the next evening, to bid his nephews and niece good-night, found there not the children but a stranger. His momentary look of surprise vanished as he recollected, and, while he spoke,

a few rather embarrassed words of greeting and welcome. He keenly scanned Gustave Bouchiffin. He was a handsome young fellow, tall, slender and dark, and looking very boyish, in spite of some deep lines on the white forehead and about the small, tightly compressed lips. His clothes were shabby, almost threadbare. There was an air of carelessness, even recklessness, about him, and yet there was something that was far more easy to feel than to describe which proclaimed him to be a gentleman. All this the doctor noted as he took the soft, slim hand, and answered as briefly as he could, the voluble speech of thanks which the young man tendered him, speaking in English less correct than Alexias,

and with a certain extravagance of expression and manner, which discomfitted George Brutnell, and which he decided was wholly French. But, although embarrassed, as he always was by anything French, and knew, he spoke very kindly and encouragingly to the brother, conscious always of the sister's beautiful eyes resting gently upon him, and after a few questions asked and answered, he left the two to themselves, and was called out shortly afterward to attend a very stout old gentleman whom he had worn

six months before to take his choice between present port wine and future apoplexy. The old gentleman, being as obstinate as old people of both sexes occasionally are, had heroically chosen the port, and now, according to the account of a flushed messenger, he was enduring the punishment prophesied, and was purple already. The weary doctor took up his hat resigningly and went out. Alexia Bouchoffin, standing idly, leaning against the window frame, negligently listening to what her companion was saying, saw her employer hurrying down the steps and along the hot pavement,

upon which the sun had been shining fiercely all day. "'He has gone out,' she said, looking round, with a curious inflection in her voice, as though that fact had a bearing upon the conversation that had gone before. "'Already?' cried the young man eagerly. "'Better than I hoped. "'And does he leave his study, laboratory? "'What does he call it? "'Unlocked?'

"'Yes.' are you sure am i likely to be mistaken of course not no he moved across to the door well come show me come you are in a hurry said the governess not stirring what would you have me do he demanded impatiently can we let time and opportunity slip together with what we have to do have we not done enough for the present she asked slowly calm and cold as she was a slight irrepressible shudder shook her frame and he eyed her incredulously your note used to be different he said with a meaning glance enough what do you mean i saw it she looked at him steadily with unflinching eyes i saw him you did i did you what possessed you i hardly know i could not help it i had a fancy that i must You with fancy, you with whims and caprices, he laughed a laugh of fierce mockery, strode across the room, took her slender waist, in his hand and felt the pulse.

Ah, you are ill, your nerves are out of order, or, in a different tone, you suffer from a lapse of memory, perhaps. What do you mean? herself free and drawing her level brows together in a sudden threatening frown. He went on as though he had not heard her. I hope that your one relapse would be your last, and pleaded for you, thinking so. It was no easy matter to win you, even you, absolution. Bah, she retorted scoffingly, think you, I do not know why it was granted.

I am valuable. Am I not? You were. Were, she cried. Am I less now because, looking at that dead boy, I for once remembered that I was a woman? You doubt me. Who are you to dare do it? What have you done for the cause?

that will weigh in the scales against what I have done. Show me the paltry pin-prick of suffering that you place against my agony. Hush, he said, in a low tone and glancing round warningly, evidently taken aback by your sudden vehemence. You mistake me. I wished merely to remind you. Gowed me, rather, she retorted with unbated passion. I forgot.

I forgot either the blood of the dead or the tortures of the living. I forgot the oath. I swore with this in my hand. Her fingers had been restlessly plucking at the bosom of her gown, and now she held out upon her open hand the tiny roll of red mark, paper. She looked at it for a few moments with dilating eyes, while the color died out of her face and left it in passive marble again. Then she slowly restored the little wool to her breast and turned to the door. Come, she said, I will show you. End of chapter five.

dream by Mrs. Hungerford. This Liebervox recording is in the public domain. Dr. Brutnell realized very often the fact that the life of a London medical man, however large his practice and solvent his patients, is not by any means an enviable one. Once upon a time when a red lamp had been a novelty, and the power to write MD after his ordinary signature, a delicious dignity, a patient had been to him a prodigy, something precious for its rarity, even if it called him away from his dinner or ruthlessly rang him up in the middle of the night. But that was a long time ago. in the days of his impetuous youth and now in his prosperous middle age he would often have willingly bartered a good many patience for little more leisure

this was particularly the case upon a hot oppressive night a week later a night such as london generally experiences in august it was saturday and certainly it was not pleasant after a week of fatiguing work to be summoned as soon as he had got into his bedroom at considerably past eleven o'clock at night to attend a patient who resuburned who resumed as soon as he had got into his bedroom at considerably past eleven o'clock at night to attend a patient who resum to attend a decided somewhere in the wilds of holloway. However, there was no help for it, and the doctor, philosophically resigning himself, and taking care to be sure that his latch-key was in his pocket, spoke a word to Mrs. Jessup, as a precaution against that worthy woman's putting up the chain of the hall door before she went to bed, and let himself out. It was a fine night, hot as it was,

with a large bright moon hardly beginning to wane, and myriads of stars. Dr. Brutnell, as good and quick a walker now, as he had been twenty years before, thought lightly of the distance between his own house and that of his patient, and soon reached his destination. It was little that he could do.

In fact, he had been sent for, without real need, and it was not much after twelve o'clock when he reached the railway arch, which spans the Holloway Road. He stopped for a moment and looked up, thinking what a black bar it seemed in the yellow moonlight, and how oddly quiet the streets were, which all day, long were teeming with noisy life. Most of the shops were closed, and only a few straggling-foot

passengers were to be seen. Only for a moment did he thus glance about him, taking his hat off to push the damp air from his forehead, for his quick walk had made him warm. Then he walked on under the arch, to stop before it was half traversed, for a hand suddenly placed upon his shoulders, brought him to a halt. "'Your pardon, sir,' said a voice in his ear. "'You are a doctor, I believe.' "'I am,' the doctor tried in the gloom of the arch, to make out the face of the inquirer. But in vain he could only tell that it was a little.

young man by his voice and gestures, and he saw that he was considerably taller than himself. Dr. Brondell, I think. I am, Dr. Brandel, what is wanted. Yourself, sir, if you please, a person, my brother, is ill, almost dying, it is feared. Will you accompany me to him? There is no time to be lost. What is the matter with him? asked the doctor. Sir, you will know when you see him, I, with a deprecatory shug of the shoulders.

Can I tell? But is it a fit, a fever, an accident? What is it? asked Dr. Brutnell impatiently. You must know that. Sir, it cannot be a fever, since an hour ago he was well. Pray, sir, will you come? He is very ill. The lay is dangerous.

The man moved on as he spoke, and the doctor moved with him, for his arm was still clasped by the stranger's strong, supple fingers. But outside the archway he stopped. Stay! Why do you come to me? Have you no regular medical attendant? We have not, sir, as to why I come to you. you. I have heard of you. That is all. I reached your house almost as you left it, and have followed

you and waited. Pray come, sir, I entreat you. There is a carriage waiting here. A carriage was standing just outside the arch, an ordinary-looking close carriage, drawn by a light-colored horse, and driven by a coachman who was singularly muffled up, considering the heat of the night. The doctor mechanically noticed that there were no lamps to the carriage, as in obedience to the eager pressure of his companion's hand he got in. The other followed, shutting the door smartly behind him, and the vehicle started instantly. Dr. Brutnell, leaning back in his corner, looked curiously, as well as the dimness of the carriage,

would let him, with the keen eyes of a man accustomed to weigh and observe, at his companion, who, with his hands in his pockets, and his hat pulled down over his brows, appeared to be half asleep. He was a very handsome man, that was certain, face dark and clear-cut, complexion swarthy, figure at once lithe and muscular, and some years under thirty. There was a turn of the throat, a trick of movement, when he presently changed his position restlessly, that perplexed the watcher. The doctor fancied that he must have seen this man before, but he presently changed his position restlessly, but he perplexed the watcher, but he perplexed the watcher, he must have seen this man before. but he could not remember where. Is it far? He asked suddenly. It must be, he thought. They had been in the carriage at least a quarter of an hour.

The horse had been going at a swift trot, and now there was no sign of slackening speed. The young man started and opened his eyes. It is not now, sir. We shall soon be there. In time I hope. he stamped twice upon the floor of the carriage impatiently as though in anxiety but the sound seemed to act as a signal for the driver instantly whipped up the horse and the speed was increased almost doubled the curtains of the window were down and the doctor drew one of them aside and peered out they were in a street he did not know badly paved badly lighted

squalid flanked by rows of high mean houses half of which seemed empty for hardly a light shone from their windows he looked round where are we we are close there sir but what street is this i don't know it in the least sir i do not know it but i know that in a moment we shall be there the doctor sank back into his corner again resigningly he was fatigued sleepy put out just then he most heartily wished that this young man had found some one else to attend to the wants of his brother he must be crazy to have gone all that distance after a doctor and then to follow and accost one in the street it was as queer a thing in the street it was as queer a thing in the in its way as his twenty years in the profession had brought to his knowledge thinking over this his eyelids drooped he no longer saw the dim figure of his companion and was startled when presently the carriage stopped with a jerk in a moment the young man had opened the door sprung out and was saying we are here a light sir if you please dr bruntnell confused and sleepy still, did so, looking about him, he was in a narrow paved court, entirely unlighted, closed in at the lower end by what seemed to be a huge deserted stack of warehouses,

and fenced upon the farther side by the blank walls and regular rows of narrow windows, of what had evidently been a manufactory, but the windows were broken. A door hung swinging upon its hinges. It was evident that this place was unused and deserted too. Upon the side where he stood were a couple of old houses, bare and desolate, with broken windows, broken railings, dark, silent. the most dismal houses the doctor had ever seen. At the door of the first of these, where a faint light was visible in one of the lower windows, as the carriage stopped,

the young man tapped cautiously with his hand three times. In another moment the door was softly opened, the figure of the opener being lost in the gloom within. On the broken doorstep, the doctor hesitated, He was not a timid man, but this all seemed very strange. However, he obeyed the pressure of the hand laid upon his arm, and entered, glancing behind him as he did so. He saw that the carriage had disappeared.

The door was gently closed, and he stood in absolute darkness, hesitating, wondering. He fancied he heard cautious feet steeped. the ceiling across the bare floor of the hall. But not another sound broke the oppressive brooding silence of the close, musty-smelling old house. In another moment he would have spoken, have demanded the meaning of all this, when a faint gleam of light appeared at the end of the hall, and from the lower stairs a man's hand and arm became visible, holding a lamp. A hand was laid upon his arm at the same moment, and the voice of his summoner spoke quietly in his ear. Your patient is ready, sir. Come, if you please. The speaker went towards the stairs, and the light was withdrawn. The doctor followed him for a few paces, then stopped abruptly.

Downstairs, he said incredulously. Sir, he was too bad. to be moved. I see. Go before, if you please. The light glimmered faintly at the foot of the staircase again, and the doctor followed his conductor down, noting that the steps were dirty and bare, that the stone passageway at the bottom was also dirty and bare. That, for all the indications that there were to, the contrary, this was an absolutely unfurnished house. As he reached the last stare, he looked keenly at the man who held the lamp. A middle-aged man, loose-jointed and loosely dressed, with iron-gray hair and a scar upon his cheek.

He spoke with a slightly foreign accent, and, with a bow, moved aside from the doorway in which he stood. You're welcome, sir. I thank you. Enter if you please. Dr. Brutnell did so, then started and stopped involuntarily. A sick man, a man on the point of dying, were they mad enough to keep him in a room such as this? A room, a stye, rather. The door was stone, with a few sacks spread upon it. The windows were secured by crazy shutters. The only table was formed by boards laid upon two old barrels, and the two or three chairs were broken. The only other piece of furniture or semblance of furniture was an old couch. The horse hair covering tattered, straggling pieces of the stuffing, hanging down. Lying upon it was,

the figure of a man with some roughly applied bandages about his head and face. Strange as it all was, the sight of this man, the cause of his being there, restored to the doctor his professional coolness and self-possession. He was a medical man. This was his patient. He advanced, and with rapid deaf fingers, removed the bandages, laying bare a face so horribly disfigured that, practiced as he was, he felt his own turn pale. He spoke quickly and aloud, knowing that the sick man was insensible, and looking at the other two.

What's this? What has happened to this man? He is burnt. As you say, sir, the grey-haired man, still holding the lamp back. most horribly burnt and with chemicals is it not so it is sir there has been an explosion he was trying to do something with them probably combine them he made a mistake in his method or calculations and they exploded said the doctor rapidly again you are right sir the two men exchanged swift glances of mingled admiration and contempt admiration of the doctor's quickness and lucidity contempt of him for being there he did not see them he was continuing his examination of the insensible man the injuries to the head and face were the worst but the throat chest and arms were all the also burned severely. Dr. Brutnell rose from his knee upon which he had sunk down to pursue his examination. You should have told me what the case was, he said sternly, looking at the young man. You bring me here in ignorance, and I am absolutely helpless. I have no materials for treating injuries such of these. I require

lint, oil, bandages. They are here, said the grey-haired man quietly, and, as his companions, in obedience to a motion of his hand, left the room, he looked at the doctor and asked anxiously, Sir, can you save his life? I don't know. It depends upon his condition, of which I know nothing, and the care that is bestowed upon him, but with a glance round the wretched apartment, he will not live if he stays here. He will not stay here. The doctor said no more,

for the young man came back with bandages, lint and oil. All three had evidently been purchased in anticipation of their being wanted. The doctor applied them as well as he. he could. By the dim light of the lamp, the patient moved and moaned, but he did not open his eyes or show any signs of consciousness. The other two did not speak once. His task concluded, the doctor turned to them abruptly. He had better be moved at once. He cannot pass the night here. Indeed, he should have been got upstairs at first. if there is any assistance that you can call it would be as well. He is utterly helpless. He must be carried.

Good, said the elder man quietly, and with the suspicion of a mocking smile at the corners of his mouth, explain, sir, if you please, carried where? Upstairs, of course. Upstairs, both men laughed, but only the elder echoed the word. "'Impossible, sir,' he said coolly. "'But I tell you he must be moved,' exclaimed the doctor impatiently. "'You have risked his life already by your delay.' "'Reassure yourself, sir,' said the other, in the same tone as before.

"'He shall be moved. I have said it.' "'Then where, if not upstairs?' Out of the house. Out of the house? In this condition? You must be out of your mind. It will kill him. Dr. Brandel was excited.

He rebelled against this treatment of the patient, as his patient, as merely a man he would not have cared. Kill him? So be it! The speaker shrugged his shoulders with a smile that expanded the scar on his chest. cheek, and the doctor involuntarily moderated his tone. He instinctively recognized that he had spoken

too bluntly, too hastily to this man, who looked impenetable. You must really understand, he urged, the great risk of what you are about to do. This man's condition is dangerous now. The shock to the system may be so great that even if you are, with the best of care he will not recover. By doing what you propose, you seriously jeopardize what chance he has of life. When do you intend to move him? Sir, at once! What now, in the middle of the night?

Exactly, sir. Preposterous, the doctor cried excitedly. It shall not be done. Indeed, and who, sir, will prevent it. if necessary, I will. The man put down the lamp upon the boards that served as a table, put his hands to his sides and laughed, not loudly or heartily, but with intense mocking enjoyment, as at something too grotesquely observed for speech, then suddenly, exerting a surprising

amount of strength for an old man, he put two hands. upon the shoulders of the slightly built doctor and holding him so stood looking down at him tauntingly laughing still you will you will prevent monsieur the doctor you are a hero you are alone you don't know where with you don't know whom it is one o'clock in the morning no one in your household no where to find you, and yet you will prevent. You stand in a house where your body might remain undiscovered for years, but still you defy, you threaten. By heaven, my noble physician, you are brave. He loosened his hold and leaned against the improvised table, laughing still in the same suppressed manner, and glancing at the young man, who replied to this dreadful mirth with

our sarcastic smile. George Brundel, almost staggering as the strong hands released him, was stuptified for the moment. He was no coward, but he suddenly realized the utter helplessness of his position. Where was he? He did not know. Who were these men? who met alone in this deserted house at midnight. He did not know. He was a weaker man than either, and how many more of them might there not be hidden within hearing distance now. If they chose to do him violence, to murder him, in short,

he would be totally incapable of offering any adequate resistance. He was trapped, and he felt it, for the moment the knowledge appalled him, but he strove to regain both his wits and courage. You have the advantage, sir, he said, addressing the elder man, and you use your superiority of numbers as well. As for this man, you take the responsibility if you move him. It is none of mine. I have done what I can, and all I can. Show me to the door. A moment, sir, if you please.

The younger man looked at the elder with a glance of remonstrance, as though he thought his companion in his last speech and action had gone too far. You are forgetting an important item, sir, your fee. I want no fee, and will take. take none show me to the door i say he turned toward the doorway by himself he would have stumbled up the stairs down which he had been enticed but the elder man seized him by the shoulder he spoke now in a tone almost as courteous as that which he had just used had been insulting your pardon a moment sir if you please you were called here. Trapped here, interposed the doctor angrily. Well, well, the other spoke blandly, soothingly, as though to a restive child. Trapped here, if you will, a word, what does it matter? Permit me to finish. There are two things to do, sir, and you have done but one.

I will do nothing more. George Brutnell was very. George Brutnell was thoroughly master of himself again now, and he flung off the hand upon his shoulder. The young man moved and stood between him and the door, and the elder resumed coolly. A difficult thing since it has something like death to answer for, with a glance at the senseless disfigured form upon the couch. But an easy thing, a mere bagatelle to a man. such as you. A skillful chemist, a practiced handler of chemicals. Monsieur, you will do what yonder bungler failed to do. You will, if you please, combine these chemicals. I will not. The doctor's temper was roused. The thought that he had been so tricked, made him forget

the danger he was in. He spoke without any sense. signs of fear now, and face the pair. Comprehension he had not, but suspicion he had, and he spoke it out-heartedly. I will not, he repeated, whatever villainy it is that you perpetrate here, I will have no hand in it, to whatever atrocious use it is that you design, to put things you speak of, I say that I am glad that they have turned upon one scoundrel at least. It is useless to put these chemicals before me. I swear that I will not touch them. I would sooner cut off my right hand.

Ma foi, monsieur, again the elder man smiled. You are likely, if you remain obstinate, to lose more than that come consider sir reflect you are helpless and we are impatient your summer nights are short and we have much to do come then speak ah cried the younger man suddenly but in the suppressed tones which both seem to use habitually hush dr brundell had heard nothing could hear nothing although he listened eagerly, but it seemed that the sound, whatever it might have been, had alarmed the two men. It was evidently repeated, for the lamp was put out instantly, and he felt himself forcibly thrust into what seemed to be a cupboard, and heard the key turned in the lock. For a few moments George Brunnell was dazed again.

stuptified he was so utterly amazed that he could hardly believe that it was not all a dream was this the latter half of the nineteenth century was he in the heart of london then suddenly he realized his position, tried to suppress his very breathing and the beating of his heart, for there was a sound of footsteps upon the creaking stairs. Someone else entered the room. There was the scratching of a match, and a pale thread of light crept under the door of his prison, showing that the lamp had been relighted. He listened intently, jealously, straining every nerve to hear and to understand.

Voices whispered he could distinguish the tones of the two men, but not their words. The muffled muttering was too low. Then there came a cry, followed by a rapid movement toward the door, which shot him from these strange whispers. More, a hand was even laid upon the lock, and the key was partially turned. Then there came a scuffle, almost a struggle, a sound of something being dragged along the bare boards, and the voice of the elder man muttering fiercely, threateningly, the doctor, as the footsteps retreated and the savage, repressed sounds died away in the distant murmur, leaned against the damp wall of his prison, and fought with a fresh perplexity.

newcomer into that gloomy house of wickedness and mystery was a woman. He had heard the sweep of heavy skirts at his door was approached, and that one shrill, hardly stifled cry, had surely been a woman's voice. Then the pale thread of light was withdrawn. The sound of footsteps moved toward the door, and a horrible fear assailed him. Was he a little fear? Was he a little fear? he to be left there to break his way out into light or to die in darkness? The notion was horrible. His self-control failed him, and with his clenched hands he hammered upon the panels of the door, calling out loudly that he would not be left there, trapped like a rat, and appealing to them to let him out. There was a pause, more hurried, unintelligible whispering.

Then footsteps drew near the door, and outside a voice spoke, the elder man's. Be silent, and no harm will be done you. Be patient, sir, and you shall be released. When? demanded the doctor Brundell. When we have done what we have to do, until then, silence. Again the footsteps and the light withdrew, and the doctor was left in absolute silence, and complete darkness, to fight as well as he could with the sense of utter helplessness, and the violent beating of his heart.

The struggle lasted only for a short time as he found out afterward, but in the passing it seemed an age. Then the pale gleam of light crept again beneath the door, and there came the sound of footsteps. The two men had returned. could hear that they were raising a heavy body with painful difficulty, for there were low moans and one deep groan. They were moving the almost dying man. Another and longer interval of profound darkness. A brooding silence followed, until the footsteps again returned. The door was thrown

open, and he stepped out, dazed by the light, feeble as it was. The lamp was held by the man with the scar on his cheek, the couch upon which the wounded man had lain was empty. A faint trace of light shone through the chinks of the crazy shudders. It was almost mourning. You are free, sir, said his capture calmly, and in a tone of perfect indifference, cutting short the useless words of wrath and indignation, which fell from the dark. doctor's lips. Go and hasten, if you please, the night is nearly over. The carriage in which you came waits. I shall not use it. I will go alone. And on foot, he stepped toward the door,

anxious just then for nothing except to get free of the detested house, but as before, the man's hand was brought down upon his shoulder. You pardon, sir, you will go as you came, and with the same companion. You need not fear. No harm of any kind will be done you. I have pledged my word that you shall depart as you came, and I will keep it. Good, depart then, if you please. Realizing the utter futility of lingering or speaking, Dr. Brunnell was prudent. he obeyed with remonstrance or delay.

He mounted the stairs, crossed the bare hall, and left the house. In a moment his arm was seized by the younger man. He was hustled into the carriage which had brought him and driven off at a pace so swift that he had the sense at once to abandon the design of leaping out which he had hastily formed. but that would have been impossible had the vehicle moved slowly, for the eyes of his companion were keenly on the alert,

as he could not fail to see. Not a word upon either side had been spoken when, some half an hour later the carriage suddenly stopped. He was thrust out as strongly and roughly as he had been hustled in, and, as he stood, dazed by the events of this extraordinary night, and the rush of fresh, sweet air, the coachman drove rapidly away. George Brundell looked about him like one bereft of reason. He had no idea of the route by which he had been driven,

and it was only after looking for some time at the houses about him that he discussed, where he was for he felt as perplexed and confused as though he had been voyaging through the air in a balloon slowly he recognized his surroundings he was close upon the confines of Victoria Park not a sound broke the silence not a form was visible the dawn was brightening rosily in the east he drew out his watch It was just 3 o'clock on Sunday morning. End of Chapter 6, recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, BC. Chapter 7 of A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. It was not to be wondered at that Dr. Brettnell coming down to breakfast at the usual time some five hours later should have looked what Mrs. Jessup called as pale as the very tablecloth itself,

or that he should have but little desire either for the meal or his Sunday paper. The very children, coming in by and by, to bid him good morning before going to church, loudly expressed their astonishment in a shrill trio as to Uncle George, gorgeous, funny looks, and rather rebelled at the unusually curt greeting and dismissal, which he gave them. Even the governess's eyes opened, a little wider, as she looked at him. But she gave him her hand with her usual shadowy smile and expressed no interest or surprise. Not that she would have learned anything had she been as concerned as she was indifferent,

for George Bradnell, reflecting upon and recalling his adventure of the night before, fully realizing his own position, had come to the conclusion to dismiss and forget it if he could, and to speak of it to no one. The doctor was a shrewd man, and understanding his fellow men in their mental as well as their physical natures, knew very well that such a story, if it were not entirely discredited, would be at any rate doubted and cavilled at. The general opinion would be that there was some truth in it, but not much. He was a sensitive man, disliking and dreading ridicule, and he came to the conclusion that no possible good could result from his publishing the story. He did not know the men, the street, the house, and the locality were alike unknown to him.

When speech could do no good, could throw no light, silence became wise. He would be silent. He fell asleep in his comfortable chair presently, and waking up in a couple of hours, was cheerful, more cheerful than usual. It happened that he was not called out, and that there were no visits that he had he was absolutely obliged to make. So he spent the day about the house and garden, enjoying his leisure almost boyishly. He romped with the children in the garden, swung them, played ball with them, would have even run races with them, perhaps, as they earnst sought him to do, had the weather

been cooler. Suddenly he caught sight of the perfect face of Alexia Bouchafin at the window, with her brother beside her and meeting her dark eyes, was a little abashed for the moment. He did not play with the children anymore, and the young rebels wondered why. After being in such an absolutely seraphic temper, he should turn cross so suddenly, but he should turn across so suddenly, Perhaps it was not her watching that vexed him, but the scrutiny of that other pair of eyes. For slowly and reluctantly George Brettnill had, by this time, made up his mind that, with every desire to like this handsome young Gustav Bucchiffin, he could not do so. Prejudice, no doubt, said the doctor to himself, when presently, after having

discreetly quieted his nephews and niece by a gift of sixpence each, he sat down to smoke a cigar in his study. But upon my word, I shall be glad when the young fellow is out of the house. Well, this post at Langley's will be a pretty good chance for him if he chooses to stick to it. If he has any sense he will. I'll tell her this evening, by the way, He did not see Alexia again until the children were sleeping, and the twilight was fading at the approach of night. Then, looking from his study window, he saw her, tall in a red, in her black dress, pacing the gravel, walk beside the trimly kept blonde. Her brother was at her side again, and they were talking earnestly, absorbedly. he with his usual redundancy of gesture, she with unfailing calmness, it seemed that they were arguing about something, he urging, she resisting, for presently she flung off the hand which she had placed upon her arm and turned her back upon him, his face darkened. The lines about his mouth grew hard, he spoke a word or two, regarding her,

with a curious smile, and then, turning upon his heel, without waiting for a reply, went into the house. Dr. Brutnell paused, stood hesitating for a few moments, then went out and joined her. She would have moved away as he approached her, but, with his usual diffident, shy matter, toward her, he begged her to remain for a little while, as he had something to say. Then she turned and walked beside him. Her eyes fixed intently upon him in the grey dusk. Had he kept his eyes upon her face, instead of nervously looking away, he would have seen upon it curiosity and signs of apprehension too, scornful and contemptuous for fear.

I will only keep you a moment, mademoiselle. I wanted to say that with regard. regard to your brother, yes, sir, I am glad to tell you that I have been successful in my efforts on his behalf. There is, in the business house of a friend of mine, a post- vacant which I think will probably suit him, and which he is likely to fill credibly. Indeed, I may say that it only awaits his acceptance tomorrow. Her eyes have wandered away from his face when he began to speak. Now they came back quickly, leaning brightly in the dusk. He was taken aback, and yet he wondered why, for she merely repeated, tomorrow? I was merely going to add that tomorrow an interview will

probably settle the business. Ah sir, you see, you are so kind, so good. How can I thank you? What can I say? George Brutno, listening, looking, lost his head. He had meant to tell her what he had to tell quietly and coolly, make light of the thanks which only embarrassed him, and so go back soberly to his book and cigar again. But he met her eyes, heard her voice, and the resolve was gone. He never knew what it was, that he said, to Alexia Bouchoffin.

In what words he clothed his passion, in what phrases he pleaded. He only knew that she listened for a moment impassively, that the next time the cold blankness of her face was gone, that it was replaced by a look of scorn, incredulity, pity, contempt. He did not know what, that an instant later she had wretched away

the hand he had taken, had burst into a laugh that rang out shrilly in the groom, and that he was standing alone, bewildered, thinking that her laugh had sounded like an echo of the laugh that he had heard last night in that mysterious house, the laugh of the grey-haired man with the scar upon his cheek. Alexia Butchofan, moving with a rapidity, unlike her usual slow, graceful motion, had rushed into the house and up to her sitting room. Her brother was there,

evidently waiting for her, but he was not waiting for anything like this. She looked at him for a moment, then drew herself into a chair, and shrieked with hysterical laughter. Gustave Bouchafin was cautious. He hurried to the door, shut and locked it,

returned and grasped her arm firmly. What is this? Control yourself. Consider. Her wild laughter was already dying away. It was evident that she had to exercise rigid self-control, to prevent it from turning to still wilder sobbing. She sat for a few moments with her hands pressed over her eyes,

her breast heaving convulsively. When she looked at hip, rising as she did so, her eyes dilated and gleamed. This night, she said, this night of all others to choose. To choose for what? To make love to me. Think of it. Ba, what did I tell you but just now? He returned sullenly, releasing her arm.

You laughed, full as he was, tool as you had made him. he was not fool enough for that you said a was he not i knew how it would be did i not tell you so before i even entered this house looking at her he laughed grimly what a fool an idiot "'Bah,' she retorted with a bitter smile. "'What think you, does he know? "'I could laugh at myself, for I am almost sorry. "'For him? "'Why not? "'He is a good man in his way, and he has been kind.

"'Don't look at me like that,' she cried with sudden passion. "'A swift rush of blood tinting the pallor of her cheeks. "'What do you think he is?' to me, this man, but the tool I have made him. He has not harmed me. He represents nothing that has harmed me. I would not hurt him, as I would not hurt a child. Ah, that is all? He looked at her keenly. Good, and yet last night. Well, she said defiantly, last night, last night I saved him. What then? He could do us no harm. He had done us good, and our use for him was nearly over. I may say now that it is over, unless we fail. Fail, she echoed contemptuously.

What did you say to him? He asked after a moment's pause. Nothing. What should I say? I rushed away. what does it matter? I shall not see him again. True, he glanced at the clock. Eight, he said, turning toward the door, as though to close the conversation by leaving the room. You will not forget the time, I shall not. And, he added warmingly, you will not blench. This time? She did not hear him.

She had drawn from her breast. the tiny roll of red marked paper, and holding it upon the palm of her hand, was looking at it with a curiously intent and bitter smile. Good, said Gustav Bouchafin with satisfaction, and he went out and left her. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford. This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, BC. Chapter 8 and last.

George Brutnell, having passed a restless and troubled evening, pass also a restless and dream haunted night, coming down to breakfast the next morning jaded and out of sorts. He could not, for a moment, dismiss from his memory that interoperable. view in the garden last night, or explained to himself the meaning of Alexia Bouchoffan's extraordinary conduct. What was he to understand from it? Had her behavior been prompted by astonishment, indecision, or annoyance, he did not know, and he could make nothing of it. The doctor ate no breakfast, but came to the conclusion that he must see her again, and that as soon as possible, his earnestness and anxiety conquered his diffidence. He rang the bell for Mrs. Jessup,

and asked if Mademoiselle were downstairs yet. He wished to see her. Mrs. Jessup, looking curiously at her master, went and returned. No, mademoiselle was not down yet. She had complained last night of headache. Was it anything very particular, and should she be called? Not on any account. The doctor picked up the paper that he had forgotten to read and went to his consulting room. It was empty, for it was not yet his usual hour for receiving patients. To fill up the time and to escape from his own thoughts, he opened the paper.

The first thing that caught his eye and changed his indifference to involuntary interest was the announcement, in the most sensational terms, of two supposed dynamite outrages, which had taken place on the previous night, resulting in the partial wreck of one house and the almost total destruction of another, together with the death of the Russian police agent who lived in it. It was just at this time that some such paragraph formed the chief sensational tidbit of almost every newspaper, and a raged public opinion was ready to run wild upon the subject. The doctor, excited, horrified, interested, read the account. The two explosions had taken place almost simultaneously, and had evidently been caused by the account. and had evidently been caused by the same kind of infernal machine, whether containing dynamite or some other explosive was not quite certain. As for the police agent who had been killed,

it was known that he had been threatened by some secret society supposed to have lurking places in various parts of London. He, having a year or two before, being made instrumental in the breaking up of a nihilist society in Russia, and in bringing to the scaffold is chief and most active member. A young Russian of noble birth, the second explosion which had done less damage, and was happily unattended by any serious results beyond the partial wrecking of the house, was at the private residence of a well-known English detective. the latest news was that there was a clue to the perpetrators of both outages dr bretnell tossed aside the paper shrugging his shoulders at a madman's irresponsible rashness and folly

and turned his attention to the patient who just then came in that patient and the many succeeding patients thought the doctor awed this morning brusque absent Constrained, gruff. He was thinking of Alexia, wondering what she would say to him, wondering still more what he would say to her. The room was empty at last, and he went back to the dining room and rang again from Mrs. Jessup. He could not face the day's round of work without seeing her first. Mrs. Jessup was asked to inquire if Mademoiselle could see him now. The housekeeper went, and returned looking rather puzzled. Mademoiselle was not downstairs yet, although her breakfast was cold

and the children were waiting to begin their lessons. Mrs. Jessup was alarmed. Her master wondered and felt anxious. She may be ill, he said. You say she complained last night. Go and see, stay. I'll come upstairs with you. He did so.

At the governess's door, Mrs. Jessop knocked softly and waited. Knocked loudly and waited. Then, in obedience to a gesture from the doctor, she tried to open the door. The handle yielded instantly, and she, looking in, cried out, Sir, she isn't here.

The bed was untouched, had not been slept in. The housekeeper looked frightened at the doctor's white face as he glanced round the room. call her brother. He has not been seen either. Quick. A couple of curious maids, lingering on the stairs, ran up the next flight to obey. There was the sound of knocking at panels, a pause, and a cry at which George Brutnell felt his heart turned cold, for he understood what it meant. That room was vacant also. He sent all the women away. and examined Alexia's apartment himself.

There was not a line of writing, nor a trace or clue of any sort to explain this mystery. A few articles of clothing were scattered careless about on the chairs and on the sofa. A faded flower which she had worn yesterday in the bosom of her gown lay upon the toilet table. The poor blossom was dry and dry, withered. He took it up in his hand, crushed it, and flung his powdery fragments from him.

Then he came out, shut the door, and went straight downstairs and out to his waiting carriage. George Brutnell, afterward, looking back upon that day, wondered how he got through it, but he did, and reached home at last to be met by Mrs. Jessup, who, in the last, in the last, stage of amazement, indignation, and perplexity, informed him that Mademoiselle and her brother had not yet made their appearance. He had expected that, and cutting short the good woman's girless comments and questions sent her away. He left his dinner untouched and went into his consulting room, and, as he waited for the usual influx of patients, strove to understand to think people came in and he attended to them and watched them go they told him some of them that he looked out of sorts and pale and he laughed saying that he was all right the evening wore away it grew late

every one in the house had retired but himself it was nearly twelve o'clock and he was still sitting with his head in his hands trying to solve the problem that perplexed him suddenly he started up and listened there were footsteps outside rapid cautious a key was placed in the lock and the door yielded he darted out into the hall and grasped the arm of the stealthily entering figure. Alexia! With a swift gesture, she signed to him to go back into the room, entered after him, and cautiously shut and locked the door.

Then with another rapid movement she pulled aside her veil and stood looking at him. He was too astonished to speak, but he saw that she was breathless, intensely pale, that her dress was slightly disordered, and that in the eyes which he knew that he had never understood there was an expression which he could read at last, a look of mingled defiance and fear. Sir, will you save me?

Save you, in a bewilderment he could only confusedly echo her words. She moved a pace nearer to him. Yes, save me. Last night you said you love me, but I do not plead to you for that. I plead because I am a woman, alone, friendless, lost without your aid. Sir, will you give it? Will you save me? From whom? From what? From the hands of the police, who are now, as I speak on my track, from the Russian government, to which I am. shall be delivered from the death or worse than death which their sleuth hounds will met out to me death good heavens what have you been doing she laughed glance round the room caught up the paper which lay where he had put it down and pointed to the column which he had read that she cried that what do you mean i mean that I killed that man, she answered deliberately. I placed the infernal machine by his door,

and so took the vengeance which I swore to take a year ago, when he took prisoner and gave to torture and death my lover. I failed once. I failed twice. Last night I succeeded. He is dead. You murdered this man? Yes, as my lover was murdered, as my brother was murdered, as my mother and my sister are being murdered in Siberia, and my father died, murdered in the dungeons of St. Peter and St. Paul, and for what? For daring to act, to speak, to read, to think, for striving to be men and women, for revolting against a horrible tyranny, which crushed them as it crushes millions. That was their crime.

what do you know you english a brutality of force of cruelty of slavery you play with the words and think you have the thing she looked at him as he shrank from her horrified unable to grasp or believe her words again she laughed bitterly and put her hand into the bosom of her dress drew out a little roll of paper and held it toward him the doctor drew back it had suddenly become horrible he faltered what is it the last lines of farewell which my lover contrived to have sent to me from his prison the day before they butchered him she answered steadily he bade me farewell and called upon me to avenge him it was redder then than now for even the blood of an innocent man fades with time and he wrote this with his blood with it in my hand with the memory of his face when they dragged him away from me for ever always before me i swore i would obey his last prayer it is done his murderer is dead she spoke with an air of dreary triumph a dreadful exultation that chilled her listener's blood this was not the woman he had loved upon whom he had poured out all his long-guarded stores of devotion and passion this terrible beautiful avenging bedusa his utter confusion and bewilderment were patent to her as he sank into her

to a chair, she drew a pace nearer to him, speaking rapidly, never pausing except when he himself interrupted her, never halting for a word. Sir, listen, I am in your power, since without your aid I cannot escape. I should have been a prisoner now, had I not thought of you, and had about me the key of your door i thought you would save me i think you will for i have already saved you me he exclaimed wonderingly you think you i did not know where you were taken on saturday night you knew then then i was there yes i knew you would be waylaid and taken there i knew that-i knew that you would be waylaid and taken there i knew that what you would be asked to do. First, to attend to the injuries of the foolish one among us, who had tried to do what he could not do. Secondly, to finish what he had begun. You are a braver man than I thought you, and you refused. Without those chemicals we were helpless,

for it is those that were used last night. In that deserted house, our meeting place at intervals for the past year. Your dead body might have lain undiscovered for months, would have lain undiscovered in all probability, for you were dealing with desperate men, and you defied them. I went there, as I have done twice before since I lived here, and I pleaded for you and saved you, but I could not have done it except for one thing. i took with me what they wanted gustave understands chemicals and how to combine them he came here after i had lied to you about him for all that story that i told you was one great lie told because i knew something of my power over you and that you would probably act as you did hoping that he could here possess himself of the chemicals that were needed and which we could not obtain without too great risk of discovery you believed every word of the story with which i be fooled you he came here and obtained them easily her audacity her frankness were almost brutal his bewilderment was subsiding but he revolted more and more

understanding so little of the horrible tree of which such a woman as this was the poisoned and poisoning fruit your brother he said withdrawing from her a little farther how did he become possessed of them here my brother she cried laughing he is not my brother his name is bucchchofun no more than mine my name is butchofen no more than mine my name I have almost forgotten what it is. I have borne so many that are false. Were I to tell you, it you would be no wiser. Where, you asked, did I get the chemicals from your laboratory? We stole them. Look, examine, and you will find them missing. She stopped, turning with dilating eyes toward the window. As footsteps approached, they passed. and she turned back again, once more drawing a step nearer to him, fascinating him with the light of her brilliant, inflexible eyes.

Sir, listen again, you have been deceived. As I have shown, but you do not know how much. You recollect the day upon which you saw me first? Yes. I told you that I had been robbed. It was a lie. The man that you saw attack me meant to murder me. To murder you?

Yes, sir, once more. You don't know what they are, these secret societies. These hidden leagues molded by Russian oppression and tyranny, these cliques of which hate, vengeance, extermination, the are the watchwords. Knowing so well what treachery is, they are jealous of the faith of their members. Death punishes treachery, and I have been treacherous, and death was my sentence.

The cause avenges itself. The appointed man accepted his appointed task. The man who threatened you that night, the old man, our chief, saved me. George Brundel passed his hand over his forehead. the feeling which had assailed him when he was a prisoner in the mysterious house assailed him again. The involuntary doubt as to the reality of what he saw and heard, still with her relentless eyes fixed upon him, she went on, I have been treacherous, I will tell you how. There belonged to us a lad, a boy, almost a child, almost a child,

he was innocent simple he was our errand-boy cat's-paw what you will and he did what you have done fell in love with me because i am beautiful perhaps bah many men have loved me it is nothing we suspected him though him false with the cause to suspect is to condemn he was condemned and to me was allotted the task for the task was to condemn and to me was allotted the task of striking him. I meant to do it. I swore to do it. At the last moment my courage failed me. Perhaps I pitied him, and I spared him. The sentence passed upon him was passed also upon me. And he? He? She met his look with a gloomy smile. The cause does not forgive unless for its own good, as it after word forgave me our chief absolved me for i was useful so useful that my one act of treachery my one moment of weakness was condoned for him what was he an untrustworthy tool merely another hand struck the blow which i had been appointed to strike he died as i nearly died she stopped and smiled in the same gloomy way. No suspicion struck you when his body lay there yonder, and I stood beside you, looking at his dead face. "'That boy!' cried George Brundel, horrified. "'That boy!' she assented. There was a pause, during which the doctor rose and drew back from the

tall, splendidly poised figure, as firm and as wrecked as he had ever seen it. he did not realize yet the blow that had fallen upon him the blank in his life that would come later but he felt as though he were struggling in a sea of horror and was unable to disguise his shrinking from her his avoidance of her the woman to whom yesterday he had offered his love humbly and whom he had besought to be his wife he asked coldly not looking at her. What can I do? Sir, I have told you, save me. We were seen last night. The clue was followed up,

and we were surprised an hour ago in our most secret meeting place. Three of us were taken. All would have been, but for the darkness, and that we knew so well each winding of the place. Where the others are,

I do not know. Sir, help me. I am penniless. Your police. Bloodhounds are on my track. Every moment that I stay here makes the danger greater. Today I am a creature you hate, scorn, shrink from. But yesterday I was the woman you loved.

Help me, thin. I am young to die. I saved you. Answer, will you save me? i will help you said george brundell quietly time has effaced many things from dr brudnell's memory but it can never blot out his mental picture of that night the driving through the silent street to the distant railway station from which a train could be taken to carry them to the sea but waiting through the dragging hours until the tardy dawn broke the fear the stealth the suspicion the watching the rapid flight through the early morning that ended only when the blue water so cruelly bright untroubled and tranquil it looked was audible and visible not a word had he spoken to his companion through the night nor did either of them break silence until they stood upon the deck of a vessel

which was to bear her to the new world which has rectified so many of the mistakes of the old the deck was being cleared of those who were to return to the shore when for the last time she turned her beautiful eyes upon his face farewell monsieur she said quietly and echoed farewell mademoiselle good mrs jessup never discovered which patient it was to whom her master had been called in the dead of the night and who had capped him away for the best part of twenty-four hours and she never could understand what that foreign young woman a person concerning whom she was for a long time exceedingly voluble and bitter could possibly mean by running off in that scandalous way but there were several other things that mrs jessop did not understand for instance why the doctor for the next few weeks lost his appetite so completely was so snappish in short and seemed to care for nothing but the newspaper and she was quite scandalized when he actually spent a whole day as she by dint of judiciously pumping patrick contrived to ascertain in attending the trial of those horrid brechards of dimatards where he heard the case and heard the sentence of five years penal servitude passed upon a gray-haired man with a scar upon his cheek Laura has come home now, and the children are a great deal bigger and even more tiresome than ever.

She thinks her brother is very stupid not to marry, and often roundly tells him so. But the doctor takes her suggestion very quietly. He is too old now, he says, and besides, as he reminds Laura, it was never in his line. End of Chapter 8 End of A Bachelor's Dream by Mrs. Hungerford