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CHAPTER XIX

CHRISTMAS AT LANNOWE

REETING his only guest on Christmas morning, Lord Lannowe compunctiously declared that he was ashamed of himself.

"It isn't my fault, you know, Ned; still it does seem too bad to have enticed you down here and to have failed in inducing another human being to meet you."

"You wouldn't say that," Colonel Gervase returned, "if you had the least idea of how glad I am to be delivered from the other human beings."

He wanted nobody;

He spoke the strict truth. least of all did he want the Duchess, from whom he had received a summoning telegram two days before, and to whom he had made so bold as to reply that he could not break his engagement to her father. It was, when he looked back upon it, a very long time since he had found pleasure in the society of the Duchess, and her apparently undiminished desire for his was due, as he was well aware, to causes scarcely flattering to his self-esteem. He was useful to her in various small ways, he was at once the symbol and the survival of victories no longer as frequent as of yore; he was, moreover, the embodiment of a habit, and Frances, despite her singularly youthful aspect, had come to a time of life at which habits are not easily abandoned. To be sure, he had himself reached that time of life, and there were habits which he felt that he

could abandon without any difficulty at all; but that was becauseAt this point in his reflections he came to an abrupt pause, threw away the cigarette which had helped a little to soothe them and marched off to the chapel, in obedience to the tinkling bell which for some ten minutes past had been calling him thither. There are more profitable subjects for meditation on Christmas morning than the fact that one is an old fool.

Nigel Scarth, who shortly afterwards knelt down beside the Colonel, suspected himself of being a young fool and did not shirk the thought. He did not think, however, as his neighbour thought of him, that he had displayed folly in its extremest and most unaccountable form by throwing away the chance that Heaven had vouchsafed to him of making Monica Ferrand his wife. Rather was he disposed to return thanks for his preservation from an irremediable mistake. What little he had seen of his former fiancée since his return home had quite sufficed to convince him that she was as glad as he to be released, and, although he had no doubt that she would have married him cheerfully, had such been the wish of her family, he had likewise no doubt that she would have done so against her personal inclination. So it was not remorse or regret on Monica's account that made him silent and absent-minded at luncheon, which meal he could not very well escape without an appearance of churlishness.

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"We have lost one of our two visitors, you see," Lord Lannowe remarked. "Your people at Knaresby filched her from us upon the plea that she must be given an opportunity of worshipping with her coreligionists. It wasn't a very good excuse, inasmuch as the parish church here is hardly a mile away; but I suppose they didn't like to hurt our feelings by saying

that they could offer her better fun than we can. As for the religious question, perhaps that wouldn't have troubled her much, eh, Monnie? Well, I'm no proselytiser; I leave that sort of thing to my juniors."

"I think she will come to us," said Monica, who was not in the least ashamed of having brought all the influence in her power to bear upon her friend.

Nigel glanced interrogatively at Monsignor Nolan, whose broad, goodhumoured face told no tales, and Gervase rather unkindly remarked, "She seems to be travelling by a circuitous route."

"They always do," said Lord Lannowe, referring, it must be assumed, to Miss Dallison's sex in general.

"What does it matter?" broke in Nigel, with a touch of impatience. "All roads lead to Rome."

But this was the only contribution that he made to a discussion which lasted a few minutes longer and which gave him some uncomfortable sensations. Monica, he knew, believed in and was sincerely anxious for Ethel's speedy conversion; but Gervase was visibly sceptical, while Monsignor Nolan was guarded in his utterances and Lord Lannowe seemed disposed to treat the subject in a spirit of misplaced levity. Nigel could not help wondering what they would all say and think if they were to discover what he had in his mind, and it was a nervous dread of betraying himself that caused him to take his leave at the earliest possible moment.

"I don't quite know," Lord Lannowe said, after Nigel had departed and Gervase, by his invitation, had accompanied him into his private room to smoke a cigarette, "what to make of that fellow. He is sohow shall I express it ?—so confoundedly incongruous!"

"Because of his outburst a month or so ago, do you mean?" asked Gervase. "Oh, I don't think there was anything so very extraordinary or inconsistent in that.

These men with sharp chins and volcanic eyes are always liable to outbreaks. They may develope into saints and martyrs or they make take to gambling or drink; one is never safe with them. Let us at least be thankful that Monica is safe from him." He added interrogatively after a moment, "I suppose she is?"

"Absolutely," answered Lord Lannowe. "All the more so because she is full of compassion for him. I wish she would have a little compassion upon me and drop this persistent hankering after convent life! I could understand it-I don't say that I should like it or approve of it even then-still I could understand it if she had been through several London seasons and had— well, in short, failed. But it is early days to call her a failure, I think, though Frances makes no bones about it. Of course I admit that she is no beauty

"

"Perhaps there may be room for two opinions about that," interjected Gervase.

"Oh, no, my dear Ned; you want to be polite and kind, but we can't shut our eyes to the fact that she is the ugly duckling of the family. All the same, I can't see why some very decent fellow shouldn't take a fancy to her, and I am sure she would make the best of wives and mothers. Say a word to her, will you, if you can find an opening? There isn't any use in my worrying her, Nolan tells me."

"I am afraid there would be still less in my doing so."

'No; she thinks a lot of your opinion. As a general rule, she doesn't seem to hit it off very well with men; but she has always had a great liking for you; I remember her telling me that of all the men whom she met in London you were the only one she cared about. Anyhow, you might try what you can do."

One result of the above conversation was that, later

in the afternoon, Monsignor Nolan, who was writing letters in his little room upstairs, was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Am I disturbing you?" Gervase asked, when he had been requested to come in.

"You are," replied the priest, laughing, "and I'm only too thankful to be disturbed by anybody who isn't a correspondent with a dozen superfluous questions to ask."

"Well, I am going to ask you some questions, Father," said Gervase; "I don't know whether you will consider them superfluous or not."

"I'll tell you that when I've heard them. Sit down and make yourself comfortable."

"It is about Monica. Her father tells me that she is bent upon taking the veil."

"Oh, bent upon it-no. She talks about it, and I wouldn't say but opposition might goad her into making the attempt. That would mean absence from home for six months or maybe a year."

"Why not for good and all?"

"Because no community would keep her."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Gervase, rather surprised.

The priest laughed. "No, I'm not sure; but I'd lay long odds. I've had some experience. Miss Monica is one of the best girls that ever walked the earth; only she isn't cut out for a nun. She has other qualities and, I hope, another destiny."

'May I ask whether you still hope that her destiny is to marry young Scarth?"

"I'll answer you frankly, Colonel Gervase. I did until within the last few days cherish the hope of bringing Miss Monica and Nigel together again; but I've had to abandon it. It wouldn't be her wish even if it