pot in his otherwise
shady existence. He had been a selfish man all his life, had spent his
own fortune and his wife's, and had broken the heart of that unhappy
woman in a gentlemanly way. There had been no violence, no open
unkindness, but the refinement of neglect that undermines health and
spirit. When the crash finally came the Major removed to London with his
young daughter. He told her just as much as he considered necessary,
with the consequence that she regarded him as one of the best and most
self-denying of men. Alice had few friends, and none knew anything about
the Major's means, so that the journalistic fiction remained
unassailable, and Alice could speak freely of her father as adding high
intellectual qualities to his other gifts. His frequent late absences
from home were explained in this way, and if he never said anything
definite about his work, his diffidence might be attributed to natural
modesty.

In the circumstances, therefore, the Major was not sorry his daughter
had had an invitation to spend a holiday at Haredale Park. He had
thought of inviting himself also, but his new commission put that out of
the question. After he had finished his breakfast he helped himself to a
liberal dose of brandy and soda, and had just lighted his first cigar
when his daughter came in.

"You are very late," she said with playful fondness. "I declare you grow
worse and worse."

"Not my fault, my dear," the Major protested. "These things are
inevitable amongst newspaper men. I thought I should be at home by
eleven, but something important turned up at the last moment and they
told me off to attend to it. They are good enough to say they can depend
on me, Alice. That is one of the advantages of being steady. If anything
goes wrong at the office the first thing they say is, 'Where is
Carden?'"

Alice smiled affectionately. To her this was quite natural. For a girl
who had spent so many years in London she was wonderfully simple.

"I suppose it can't be helped," she said. "How few men there are who
would have endured your misfortunes and turned to and made a living as
you are doing! I wish I were clever."

"Oh, so you are, my dear, so you are," the Major said magnanimously.
"The great thing is pluck and perseverance. Without egotism, I think I
am endowed with those qualities, and to some extent so are you, and you
will make a name as an artist yet. Stick to it, my child, stick to it.
At the same time, it is good