The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 7, 1904, Page 3

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL ———————————————————————————————————————————— e e eee— said as much, but not ed unwilling i fear the Doctor she protested. “Of m very anxious to know what me to do, but If you tell me to wait, T will do as you de- I could never forget his e this morning.” kind to every onme,” Julia re- almost break his heart ving ildren in the me, dear Esther, you have anything to fear from Xavier. Whatever happens ber that he desires you to be hay d will be disappointed if you appe: Pr staken ir course T me,” wish at I a little nost as one emphasis on the who would utter and this was not lost upon hen she went up to at eleven o'clock and the whole events recurred to he pases of some ex- had read in her child- rent it had been yes- day she stood upon the b of man’s supreme tempta- N was open to s great heart- ss cit driven from 3 suzeast whom and nds of the doors of were de- the with fabu- ' od friends, of s e 1 when he ) nd was it a e she believe it? house appeared to forgetfulness. DeArance which a did mnot There ard in ure and re- lamp by ner a little weariness as So zosolutely quiet night o er’s E red to st nor a whisper of the f heard. For ay seeking to w e herself. heard a soft f P she 1g outside, and £ affright and minutes <he listened Rea red d at herself lay back us' ave been nhe fell into a had not been she awoke and not un- greatly to her surprise her roemswas now ft meilow light, believed to be moon- down upon her bed. In she was mistaken, and lain = mttie ti be- translucent beams, she from an aper- a spreading arc of so soft and gentle t any laugh 3 o when f ar she hite light, at Esther seemed almo: e dreamland, where ever) nd pleased her. Anon, ight compelled her to € T te of her desire to remain K closed her eyes and again, tossed and turned essly, tried to wake up but so. The spell was irresisti- will to resist it, and of sleeping, when she that a face regarded her door, and that a man aplexion and dress of a at her as she lay. Had that this apparition hing but that of a dream, she ave fled the house upon the in- e-entered it, but a could not explain, some S ght deprived her, for the b of tne power to rise to think. Surprising as ot feel inf any way e did not frighten ar of the man who her bedside; and telling as all imagination, she it so heavy a sleep that all t = ¢ was instantly blotted out, e remained. believed i mever she it the fountain Sunlight fell upon and busy servants ere esin quadrangle. Esther . bered that she had r it sh did, she mnever a was a dream. CHAPTER V. n of French muslin had a chalr Esther's while she siept, and she 1. witnesses to her maid’'s forethought of those r. Everything had her on the lavish art of luxury who harbore been prepared scale which the later demands in a rich man’s house. Esther was =0 unaccustomed to anything but he barest necessities that this pro- € bewildered her, and she dressed tim ke one who is arraid of a gift aud the price which must be paid for it. Nor could ghe fail to contrast her fortunes of to-day with those of y Then she put on her shabby gown in a diemal attic overlooking the Tottenhan Her neighbors n the poor tenants of the mean the poverty-rtricken, and the starving. The breezes came to her laden with the city’'s grime. The f her own Devonshire far away. To-day she awoke of the story books. Marble, white, paneled her bath- room, water ran clear as crystal in her of porcels the fragrance of e sweet air of morn- below mner window cing beams of light a heart of emerald. Court road. very green seemed sc lanes « aght up the ¢ W m in A semse of rest and happiness pos- scssed her, and was not wpart from atitude. What right had she to be n such a house, or to enj v such Jux- N ? To what end were they offered her? She could not answer. There must be the secret, she thought. ther had mo watch, and she did { know what time it was, nor if the were already about. When she had dressed hersell, and taken one last in the glase, without any great uzht of her appearance, she went stairs a little doubtfuily, half be- lieving thzat it wae very early, and that nd none bul the servants ng room. In this, however, she was mistaken, s an English chub- Y 1-buttons, whom she dis- covered in the hall, hastened to assure her. Esther could not altogether ac- count for it, but the presence of this English lad reassured her. She asked him who he was, and he answered lo- quaciously: “I'm Billy, miss; T blacks the boots.” “Then please to tell me what time it i, Billy?” Billy wiped a v ; black hand upon a cheek scarcely whiter. “It’s ten o'clock,” —call said he, “or eleven it somewhere betwixt and be- won't say use you're ne anything to you, he went on. “I al- ays get up when I wakes, but that t early enough for 'em! You'll ex- me not blacking your boots, miss, cause they're brown. I know I ain’t done right—Billy never does!” Esther assured Billy that he was a paragon of wisdom and went on into the dining room. Madame Julia, whose ample figure carried a dark green ri ing habit well enough, sat already at the table reading her letters: but Doc- tor Xavier was not there, nor had a place been laid for him. Esther had been prepared to apologize for her late but Julia would not hear . saying that it was Liberty Hall, and that e one came down exactly when he or she pdeased. arance, “1 never dress until I wake; that's sh, my dear, but true. When you you'll snatch every hour get to my age, of sle you can ard be glad of it. Imagin I am thirty-three next March, a € y hair of my head is beginning to ‘Pas Passe!’” In five years' time it will be somebody else’s hair, and 1 shall be resigned.” 1 with her and felt Whatever her doubts s alone in her the prese these gentle » invariably banished them. . Here she s a woman, whom she had seen for the first time yesterday, treating her with greater kindness than she had ever known in her life. The refine- ments of the household, the luxury of surroundings, never once troubled any recognitic of social endence. She was re- ceived st like any honored guest. Madau.e Julia posed as a merry wo- man of the world, who had an oid friend to entertain. She talked of balls and theaters and of the friends she had met in the Row that morning. She promised Esther that they should drive together at five o'clock. “We'll go into the Park before din- ner; and I must try and persuade the Doctor to take us to the theater after- ward. He dreadfully difficult, my dear. When you are as old as I am, you will say that all men are. If you will, they won't; and if you won't— well, it depends upon their will! I am of the miserables who have to obey. I often wonder if any one in this world brave enough to contradict my brother Francisco!” She did not know what these few simple words meant to the young girl who heard her. When that wooden door closed upon Esther yesterday with such a dismal clang, it had seemed like the door of some prison opening rarely to the world without. But if they were to drive in Hyde Park, if they were to Zo to the theater, what possible cause had she for alarm, Esther asked her- self. Could she not leave the house day, go back if she would to Lon- don's solitude and the vortex of her misfortunes? She knew that she could. She was half afraid of her liberty. The remembrance of that garret was like that of some prison cell from which a friendly hand had delivered her. She pr: d God that she might never go back there. “We will me at lunch, my dear,” Julia continued, when breakfast was done, and the list of the long letters had been twice read. “Ycu must go to my brother this morning and see if you cannot heln him, He waiting for you in the laboratory. If you do not feel equal to it, please tell me so, and it shall be another day. But I am sure he would be very glad if you went this morning.” sther said at once that delighted to go. She had one she would come to be the house to make herself useful, and her habits of industry did not brook delay. To this Julia answered that her brother would be well pleased; and waiting only to gather up her untidy lett she conducted Esther at once across the quadrangle, and they stood at the door of the laboratory. Esther has confessed in later yvears that this morning of waiting at the Doctor's door was one she would never forget to her life’s end Hitherto, she had been unable to imugine, in any wi the services which Doctor Xav claimed of her. That they were of a common kind, the house and its ap- pointments forba her to believe. If they were secretarial duties, nothing would have b asier than to say so at the first interview; but deeper mat- ters were hinted at, and now they were to be made known. Esther trembled in spite of herself when she entered that strange rcom. She knew from the first that it was a clever man’s holy of holies; but the reality surpassed her imagination. Let us follow her to a vast apart- ment, windowless but gloriously light- ed, though the lamps which illumined it were invisible. A mellow radiance, white and soft and pleasing, flowed down through 4 frieze of crystal, fan- tastically cut into shapes like those of fabulous diamonds. Hangings of gold- green silk fell in many folds and hid the paneled walls behind them. The oddest statues, bizarre, fantastic, some- times horrible, figures brought from the distant East, brazen gods from Burmah, the finer work of European artists, filled the corners and decorated the ledge beneath the frieze. Of the common appurtenances of a scientist few were visible. A microscope stood by the Doctor’s table. In an alcove, to which a flirht of steps led up, a dome-shaped roof covered a great tele- scope and its machinery. There were Eastern lamps finely wrought in silver, whose wicks flowed in baths of per- fumed ofl. An immense circular mir- ror, swinging upon a bright steel chain, stood close to the writing table, and Esther perceived near by it that which looked like 2 magic lantern of unusual size. The carpet was green in tint and very =oft to the tread; the chairs matched it, large and luxu-ious and inviting sleep. The writing table was Chinese, oddly carved, but singularly beautiful. Esther noticed in one of the corners a bent figure, emblematical of life; and this appeared to be falling downward io the ground with a hand outstretched to mark the hours upon a silver disk. This she thought to be a clock, and she was not mistaken. Doctor Xavier himself seemed amused at the impression which his study made upon her. “Ye: he said, anticipating her ques- tion, “I tell the time by that. When the figure droops and sleeps, my day’s work is done. It reminds me that T am human, and that if I ask of my humanity too much, I shall fall as that inanimate thing; but, unlike it, shall not rise again. Come, Miss Venn, that's not a bad lesson to begin with. Please to sit in that armchair and think of it a moment. I have a letter to write.” Esther sat down in the chair without saying a word. The room did not in- vite loud words. Even Madame Julia scarcely dared to venture there; she stood with one hand upon the knob of the door until her brother had spoken. Then she nodded encouragingly to E: ther and withdre For many min- utes doctor and patient might have been in ignorance cf each other’'s pres- ence. The silence was broken 91 length by the Spaniard, who turned suddenly in his chair and asked a question. “Well,” he said, “I find an exemplary patient. She is full of curiosity and she does not say a word. She sees that this is a very strange room and is too polite to remark it. Is not that ,, Miss Venn? You are saying that is an uncemfortable place “I was thinking it,”" replied Esther, frankly; “it is not uncomfortable, but peculiar.” ixactly, peculiar. man who does not it The abode of a like the sunlight. ESIHAER LTEAR, Yes, I see that you are concerned about my windows. I shut out the day—why? Because the day annoys me.” He cast a pen aside, and rising, be- gan to pace the room with his hands behind his back, the figure of a mas- ter introducing himself to his pupil. Esther was delighted to listen. Her desire to know became almost impa- tience. “Yes,” he went on, “T am a pecu{i}ar person, Miss Venn, principally because I shun my fellows. Imagine a case! I have an abstruse subject. I believe that T am on the threshold of some dis- covery which will be helpful to my fel- low-men. For the time being I live in the heavens. Then a gardener crosses my lawn, supposing there are win- dows, and I ask myself why he is go- ing home to dinner at half-past eleven o'clock. Bathos, you say? I admit it. Unless we go into the desert, we can- not escape it. Some day if you are willing, we will go there together; but it will be of your free consent, not upon comzulsion.” 4 He threw himself into one of the great armchairs near to the sofa upon which she was sitting, and stared at her in a wav that she would have re- sented from any other. For the first time now she could analyze his fea- tures and form her own ideas of his age and character. She said that he would be nearing his fortieth year. Not a single vein of gray could be detected in the thick black hair which fell in natural curls about his well-shaped head. His skin was clear and fresh, almost like a boy’s. The wonderful eyes did not impress her less than when she had first looked into them. In any assembly of men, she thought, Doctor Xavier would have been a commanding presence, both by right of intellect and patural gifts. Power the face suggest- ed and with power the will to com- mand obedience and to insure it, the right to lead other men and to enjoy their confidence. Esther was not afraid to return the glance of such a man, she never doubted him. At the same time, she did not believe that he could wholly win a woman's affection. “I shall be very glad to help you, Doctor Xavier, if I can,” she began, determined to bring him to the point. “Will you please to tell me exactly what T am to do for you? I think it wouid be better to begin that way.” He turned in his chair and rested his chin upon his elbow. “Yes,” he said, “that is necessary. Let me be as brief. You are here to assist me with scientific experiments, Miss Venn; to benefit by them, I hope.” Esther’s heart quickened a little when she heard these ominous words. Sci- entific experiments might mean so much. Her experience suggested to her that they could not be unattended with danger. “I am quite ignorant of science,” she said, after a little pause. “If there is anything that I can do—write your let- ters or look after your books, I am sure 1 should do it very willingly. Is it heip you want?” S 2L TS ZFocr7 The Doctor shook his head; he was amused at her oifer. “No,” he sald, “it is not help of that kind, Miss Venn. It is a service which, if we are success™!, will make my name beloved by woman. It is a gift to humanity, I put it in”a word, it is the gift of beauty.” Esther had heard many times in her life of people who had claimed to make women beautiful forever; but they were always spoken of as impostors and many of them, she knew, had been justly sent to prison. While it was im- possible to believe altogether that Doc- tor Xavier was such an one, neverthe- less, she was greatly frightened by his confession and this she did not attempt to hide from him. “Oh, but Doctor,” she said with al- most childish simplicity, “how could I help you in that?” He had looked for just such an ans- wer from such a subject; indeed, it seemed to please him, and with great gentleness he continued: “Pray hear me to the end, Miss-Venn, and permit me te ask another question. Is it wrong to take the cripple and to give him limbs? Is it wrong to graft a flower that you may make it more beautiful? Is it wrong to bring the glory of the heavens nearer to us that we may know something of the heaven- 1y truths? Is all the quest of the beau- tiful in art and literature and rusic a crime? Am I wrong at this moment when I hold in yonder flask a remedy for one of the most awful diseases to which humanity is a victim? Shall I WS ZEFT FLONE 2% z’f?; o THE IVZALN TV I77Z CS”;;’P&[E hesitate to cure the leper because in health he will be less repulsive? Ah, no; you will never say that! Like all young people, your judgments are im- pulsive, and the argument comes after- ward. At this moment you are telling yourself that I am a common quack who would sell a powder or a paint to a credulous public. It is the poorest compliment you could pay me; but your young experience is sufficient apology. Understand that if you de- cide to be my fellow-worker, it must be of your own free will and not upon compulsion. I am a servant of science and I would make disciples. If I at- tempt to do something which no sci- entist has done before, it will not be as a charlatan but as a ploneer. The smile of the grafted flower is the simplest that T can put before you. I would add to Nature's gifts; but I would add naturally. The beauty that I can win from the light and the water and the earth is to be won by a natural law which I shall make known in due course to other students. In my oper- ating room I believe there are pro- found secrets. When you have thought it over, you shall tell me if you wish to master them with me.” Esther's face blanched when she heard the words ‘“‘operating room™; for it suggested to her the stone floors and the dreaded tables which she had once seen in a hospital. She but haif rea- lized the logical sequence of the Doc- tor's argument, and the impression that what he proposed was forbidden still troubled her. “I will think it over willingly,” she said. “I fear I am very stupid, Doc- tor. But then, you see, I never thought very much about my appearance. Do you really believe it is possible to make a woman beautiful by natural means?” “I believe it is so, I am not sure. You are very plain with me, and I will try to be no less honest. Twice al- ready I have failed in my experiment. You say, perhaps, that I have no right. therefore, io continue. If I be- lieved that the fallure was my own and not that of the patient, T should accept your view. But I do ncthing of the kind. I have failed because those who worked with me could not think as I think, could not surrender them- selves wholly to the idea which I fol- lowed. From the first they were gov- erned by vulgar desires; they wished money, place, love; mentally they op- posed themselves to the physical law. ‘With such subjects I could do nothing. She whom I choose must be one apart from the world, for the time being, at any rate. She must be willing to live the simplest life. -She must see beauty in all things about her. She must re- gard herself as the apostle of the creed which, in due course, will bYe joyfully accepted by the world. She must be kind and gentle, lifting her eyes to the heavens, desiring to see the greater glories beyond. She will be no servant of pride or self-conceit; she will know that she is but the instrument of this message. Her confidence will be abso- lute; she will regard me as a brother who wishes her happiness. She will let me carry all her burdens in distress —if that were possible beneath my roof —she-will come to me, and I shall share her most trifling doubts! She will be honored in this house and make it her home. Miss Venn, may I say this of you?” Esther clasped, her hands upon her knees, and regarded the Doctor with a troubled Iook. The plain truth was that while his words should have satisfied her just doubts, that which she had seen—and especially the face at the window—were present in her mind to perplex and distract her. Nothing that the Doctor had proposed, she thought, might not be undertaken by an honest girl; but he had spoken of failure. Was it possible that the face she had seen from the garden was to be connected with this! “I should be very sorry to appear ungrateful,” she exclaimed suddenly; “but I really do not know what to say. I am a little frightened, Doctor, and I cannot help it. You said something to me about those who helped you before. Would it be very dreadful to fail?” He divined her difficulty indtantly. She has seen s ething in the house, he thought. He knew that it made it more difficult. “Ah,” he said, “T put it clumslly. T talk of operating rooms, and you think of a hospital. T speak of failure, and you imagine personal suffering—per- haps illness and disease. See how a man who desires to be frank may mis- represent himself. You believe that I am asking much—ccurage to face dreadful things, penalties, distr . Let me here and now assure you, as I am a man of honor, that none of these things exist. If I fail, you will remain with me if you wish, or go to your friends, the same gentle young lady that I have found you. Others have not done sc, T admit; but their own follies were responsible for their misfortunes. They would not submit, and they suf- fered for it. Science, Miss Venn, is not to be trifled with. She demands all or nothing. Those who have assisted me would have taken the middle way. For the time being, they are punished; but the punishment will pass, and as they came to me, so, at length, will they go, neither better nor wiser. For you, I fear no such failure. Once your mind is made up, you will succeed. I am as sure of it as I am of myself.” He bent toward her and appeared to exert all that indomitable power of hi will which few were able to res Esther decided, she knew not why, this man would never harm her. He compelled her already in some measure to share «his own enthusiasm. The quest of beautiful things, the right en- Joyment of God’s gifts could never, she thought, be wrong. And yet she had so much to ask him. She was con- vinced that she could never quite ex- press her doubts. “I wish I could believe in myself as you believe in me,” she confessed at last. “It is all so new, so strange. I would like to say ‘yes,” but all sorts of silly things prevent me. You see, Doc- tor, I have not the least idea what you really want me to do. How can I help your experiments? I have no knowl- edge except the little I have got from my father’s books; it would seem child- Ish to you. If I were clever, it might be otherwise. I should be so fright- ened of my stupidity; perhaps it would spoil everything.” He laughed at this frank avowal, be- lieving that he had won her. “When the flowers bud in the suns of May,” he asked, “what cleverness of theirs helps them? When the sky at sunset is aflame with golden are, is It Nature’s gift or man’s accomplish- ment? You can help me by submis- sion, Miss Venn; you can help me by doing nothing. Come, I will show you the operating room; it will frighten you very much, but afterward you will be braver.” He crossed the room, and drawing a curtain back disclosed a paneled door of which hq held the key already in his hand. Esther had started up at the words “operating room,” for she half believed that it would justify her evil anticipation, while, in the same breath, she could tell herself that she was silly to be afraid. The Doctor, perceiving her hesitation, threw the door wide open and bade her enter. “Come,” he said, “it is not so very dreadful. I am sure your courage will be equal to it.” Something in his tone reassured her; and calling upon her courage she went over and stoad at his side. Ah, that dreadful theater! It was smothered in Gloire-de-Dijon roses from floor to ceil- ing. Esther’s wildest dream could not have surpassed the surprise of it. A fragrant perfume, rich and pungent, came to her through the open door, and would have been overpowering but for a delicious spray, like a shower of sweet rain, absorbed by the air almost before the marble fountain cast it out. Gentle breezes of the summer day stirred amid those gold-white leaves and were sucked in by the silent fans. Long windows, giving upon the shel- tered lawns, permitted a vista of tree and ‘flower and bush, like a scene re- mote from men in a forest’'s heart. In- deed, a wizard's hand might have cre- ated this picture for a fable of the splendid ages. Esther could but stand entranced, fearing to set foot upon that carpet of flowers or to disturb the per- fect beauty of that chamber of roses. It was not real, it could not be, she thought; while the Doctor, in his turn, did not take his eyes from her. Sur- prise and delight were written upon her astonished eyes. She had a young girl’'s imagination and could ' people ; this quaint retreat with the figures of a forgotten dreamland. When the Doc- tor told her that the room was her own, nothing could keep back her cry of de- light. “My own room—mine!"” she said. He took her hand and led her into it. “Your own—to be the mistress of it; to come and go when you will, some- times, perhaps, to invite others; but your own, first and foremost. Let me see you take possessicn of it. Come, this sofa is just the place to think out a difficulty.” He led her across the room to an ivory sofa, which was but a shell smothered in roses ‘to such a depth that, when Esther sat, she appeared to sing in a very bed of leaves. Her quick eyes were already examining every ncok and cranny of this new and rare possession. The walls, she saw, were paperless; but wreaths of the yel- low roses hid their nakedmess. There was no carpet but that of the glorious flowers. A table of jasper, In the cen- ter of the room, carried a huge bouquet of the sweetest blooms. By her side stood an immense lamp of silver, so placed that the light of It must fall upon the sleeper’s face. The marble of the fountain, which played in an alcove near the window, was white as snow, unblemished in its purity. A hanging book-rack swung from a siiger chain, o close to Esther’s hand that she could take a book from it without rising. A cottage piano in satinwood, Inlaid and richly painted, faced her when she entered. A flagon of the clearest crys- tal had been filled with yellow wine; a goblet stood near it upon its little table. Except for the door to the Doe- tor’s study, and the long French win- dows which gave upon the lawn, Esther could detect no other entrance to the room. The laburnum trees by the wall and the bushes round about forbade her to see that side of the house where- in the living rcoms were built. She might have been in the heart of a gar- den a hundred miles from the city. Birds from many countries hopped from wreath to wreath- of the roses above her and showed no fear at her presence. The murmur of water fall- ing was restful to the ear and lke a lullaby. The Doctor did net fail to ob- serve its effect upon her. “This is your room,” he repeated; “and you will be the mistress of it. I see that you would like to be alone and to think of all T have said to you. The moerning is the friend of clear thought, Miss Venn; to-night at dinner you shall give me your answer—yes or no.” He quitted the room, closing the door sharply behind m. Esther was left to hear the splash of the fountain rble b: n, the twittering of the birds in the silent garden. CHAPT! VI At five o'clock upon the same after- noon, Julia, remembering her promise, drove out with Esther in a pretty vie- toria drawn by two an hors: and as they went, the loquacios atures had a dred things to of. Scarcely had the tes ciosed behind them than she conf d that she had seen her brother and had been delight- ed to hear of or's asquiescence in his plans. Of this, she sald she had been su om the first. I kn it, my dear—I knew you would never be to throw away such a >pportunity. Francis believe can make you woman in the world. an to deceive himself. 2 can do, he will d He is We now; we him. are to be more than friends are to be sisters. I shall call you Esther and you will call me Julia. There will be so much to do this and the end of the sea- 'n’'t have a minute to Oh, my dear child, just think of gOow you must buy! Here's Homburg not a month off, and after Homburg our shooting party at Dou- vaine, and then the Villa Cara for the winter; and after that—who knows, It may even be my own dear Spain and our valace at Cadi. And you must have gowns for all of them—oh, the joy of .it, to begin with nothing! And I have such a wardrobe full that I could clothe a city! I envy you!" her was a little surprised that her consent to the Doctor’s proposal should thus be taken for granted, for she had not said a word that would imply con- sent; and, indeed, her answer was still to be made. She judged, however, that it was not the time to speak of it, and, avoiding the subject, she endeavored to question her companion for her own htenment. “I am sure that Doctor Xavier is both clever and kind,” she said, in a win- ningly simple way. “What I fear, dear Julia, is whther one is right to do as he wishes. I have always been taught to be afraid of vanity; and, indeed, I am very happy as I am. Even if your brother succeeded in his experiments, surely I am not the best subject he could choose.” Julia togk her hand in her own and drew her close as though some new bond of love already united them. “Nonsense, nonsense!” she protested. “Whatever my brother does is for the good of humanity. Don’t you see, you dear little child, how much happiness would come into the world if women could be made more beautiful? And you—you are the sweetest subject a man could have! We shall be so proud of you, Esther; you will always be re- membered as the brave girl who did this service for your sisters. Ah, my dear, if it is wrong to desire beautiful things, then we are very wicked peo- ple! But I shall never believe it; I shall always say that Francisco Xavier is a leader among men."” Esther did not quite trust this ready woman of the world, beliewing her shal- low and possibly a little fickle; but the arguments themselves were very plaus- ible, and, indeed, a similar process of reasoning had guided her that day. After all, she said, if it were really with scientific truths that the Doctor wished to experiment, and she would suffer no harm because of them, there was no good cause why her consent should be withheld. A lover of com- promise always, it occurred to Esther that she might give a conditional ans- wer, keeping to herseif the right to withdraw it if anything were done of which her woman's instinct might bé ashamed. In plain words, she deter- mined to tell the Doctor that she would try to serve him; but that the right must remain to her to say “no” when his experiments offended her. Never- theless, she was not prepared to con- fess as much to Julla; and she took refuge from the argument in silence. There had been a few light showers efirlier in the day; but a delicious fra- grance of the later afternoon account- ed for a splendid park, ana for a very cavalcade of open carriages. London's gayeties had almost exhausted them- selves in these later days of July; peo- ple were glad to drive in the fresh air and so to make their plans for Hom- burg or the Solent. Esther used to trudge the gravel paths by the Achilles statue when first she came to London, and now she remembered how she had admired the rich equipages and the wenderful gowns of the great women who looked down upon her. The change which a day had brought ints her life was almost beyond her com- prehension. Here she sat dressed as those others whose names were on every tongue. She, too, could now look down on many a poor creature who welcomed the shelter of the trees be- eause she dreaded the discoveries of the garisn sunshine. The carriage in which she rode had come from Pa and had sent many an order 8 ite fashi nable builder. The rcans had cost Doctor Xavier seven hundred guifitas. Esther observed that her companion was everywhere recognized and saluted. Women stared after the carriage a little enviously; the men re- garded it with obvious favor. Esther was glad that she was not compelled to speak to any «f these people. She was greatly afraid when the carriage stopped by Rotten Row that some chatting woman would be presented to her, and, perhaps, wish to know her story. None troubled them, however,