only worship:
and would have been equally ready to worship before the whole world.
And therein lay the miracle. Do you not agree, you who know Englishmen
of that class and stamp? Can you conceive one of them falling on his
knees save at the bidding of omnipotent Love, and by the miracle which
makes a man forget the whole world, defy the whole world, give up the
whole world, driven to defiance, to forgetfulness, to self-sacrifice,
for the sake of the torturing, exquisite moments of transcendental
happiness?

CHAPTER XXIII

WHY ALL THIS MYSTERY?

I have often smiled myself at the recollection of Luke de Mountford
walking that selfsame afternoon with Louisa Harris up and down the
long avenue of the Ladies' Mile: the selfsame Luke de Mountford who
had knelt at his Lou's feet in humble gratitude for the love she gave
him: the selfsame Luke de Mountford who stood under suspicion of
having committed a dastardly and premeditated murder.

The puppets were once more dangling on the string of Convention. They
had readjusted their masks and sunk individuality as well as sentiment
in the whirlpool of their world's opinion.

Louisa had desired that Luke should come with her to the park, since
convention forbade their looking at chrysanthemums in the Temple
Gardens, on the day that Philip de Mountford lay dead in the mortuary
chamber of a London police court: but everybody belonging to their own
world would be in the park on this fine afternoon. And yet, the open
air, the fragrance of spring flowers in the formal beds, would give
freedom to the breath: there would not reign the oppressive atmosphere
of tea-table gossip; the early tulips bowing their stately heads would
suggest aloofness and peace.

And so they went together for a walk in the park, for she had wished
it, and he would have followed her anywhere where she had bidden him
to go.

He walked beside her absolutely unconscious of whisperings and gossip
which accompanied them at every step.

"I call it bad form," was a very usual phrase enunciated by many a
rouged lip curled up in disdain.

This was hurled at Louisa Harris. The woman, in such cases, always
contrives to get the lion's share of contempt.

"Showing herself about with that man now! I call it vulgar."

"They say he'll be arrested directly after the inquest to-morrow. I
have it on unimpeachable authority."

"Oh! I understand that he has been arrested already," asserted a lady
whose informati