“O, gear will buy me rigs o’ land,

And gear will buy me sheep and kye;

But the tender heart o’ leesome luve,

The gowd and siller canna buy.

We may be poor—Robie and I;

Light is the burden luve lays on,

Content and luve bring peace and joy,

What mair hae queens upon a throne?”—Burns.

Ralph slept late the next day and only escaped a fine at Rehearsal by the merciful rule which permitted ten minutes’ grace.

“You have done it by the skin of your teeth,” said Macneillie with a laugh, “but of course you found the newspaper absorbing.”

“I have not even seen it. What is the news?”

“There’s a warrant out for the arrest of Sir Matthew Mactavish on a charge of swindling, and Mr. Bruce Wylie they say is already in Holloway gaol having been arrested last night.”

“Good heavens!” said Ralph, “Bruce Wylie in prison!”

“What matters more,” said Macneillie, “is that some South African company of which they were the leading directors has failed. And this following closely on the failure of that other Company with which they were connected will probably cause more failures to follow. Thousands will be ruined. Mr. Marriott was right enough when he darkly hinted to you that startling revelations were in store. Well we must get to work. What a mercy it is that Miss Ewart is safely out of her guardian’s power.”

A sudden panic seized Ralph. What if Sir Matthew were to come across Evereld in France? He had no idea whereabouts she was but for the first time he wondered whether any possible scheme for getting her again into his power could have occurred to the Company Promoter.

On the previous night such a thought had never entered his head, he had adopted the more reasonable conclusion that Sir Matthew chose Havre merely as a possible starting place for America or some distant port where he could safely shelter. It needed all his patience and self-control to wait through the tedious rehearsal, and the instant he was free he ran to the telegraph office and begged Mr. Marriott to send him tidings as soon as possible with regard to Evereld.

The answer set him at rest before the evening’s performance. Evereld was safe and well and Mr. Marriott begged that Ralph would if possible spend the following Sunday at his house since there were many things to discuss.

It was now only Wednesday so he had still some time to wait, but the worst of his suspense was over and it was with a very buoyant heart that early on Sunday morning he presented himself at the old lawyer’s house. After a pleasant breakfast with the kindly ladies who had always taken an interest in his career, he was carried off to the study by Mr. Marriott for a business talk.

“I asked you to come up to town,” said the lawyer, “because you have a right to know the whole truth of things. Sir Matthew Mactavish was not only a scheming speculator, he was a fraudulent trustee. Miss Ewart’s affairs were entirely in his hands, and Bruce Wylie her solicitor aided and abetted the speculations which have dissipated her fortune.”

“The brutes!” said Ralph. “Still I can forgive them that. It’s their abominable scheme for trapping her into a marriage that I can’t forgive.”

“Perhaps you hardly realise things yet,” said the lawyer, “I mean exactly what I say. Instead of being an heiress she has now nothing whatever left but a couple of hundred a year which, being her mother’s property, and in the funds, could not be tampered with.”

“If she is much troubled about it I am sorry,” said Ralph. “But personally I don’t care a straw. No one will be able to say now that I was running after her fortune. How soon do you think we might be married? There is nothing to wait for now.”

“Well, you will have to get the leave of the Lord Chancellor, but I don’t suppose he will disapprove,” said the lawyer with a smile, “if you are in a position to support a wife that is. I can’t see any objection to your marrying before long if Miss Ewart desires it. Go and talk it over with Mr. Hereford, she is under his guardianship and he is in town till to-morrow evening.”

“What good luck,” said Ralph. “I will go round at once and try to catch him before he goes out.”

“Very well. We shall meet again later on then,” said the old lawyer kindly. “We can put you up for the night and then you can let me know what arrangement you and Mr. Hereford have arrived at. I will walk round with you to Grosvenor Square; these bright frosty mornings are tempting.”

Ralph received a friendly greeting from Max Hereford who was amused by his extreme haste and anxiety to win the Lord Chancellor’s consent to his marriage with Evereld.

“You see, we have been practically engaged for several months,” he argued, “and I shall never have a moment’s peace about her while she is drifting about the world. Who can tell whether we have heard the last of Sir Matthew Mactavish even now! It’s unbearable to think that I don’t even know where she is.”

“Well I can set you at rest on that point,” said Max Hereford laughing. “She is on her way to Ireland, and my wife will take the greatest care of her.”

“She has left France?”

“Yes, I went myself to bring her home and my sister-in-law came with her. Dermot will spend the winter in the south and I am taking the two girls across to Dublin to-morrow night. They are here now.”

Ralph’s face was a sight to see.

“You must talk to her and find out what her wishes are,” said his host pleasantly. “I am the last man to advise a prolonged engagement. And since Marriott has told you that Miss Ewart is no longer an heiress but has been robbed by those precious scoundrels of almost the whole of her fortune, I think it only remains for you two to decide upon your own course of action, subject of course to the approval of the Lord Chancellor. She shall always find a home with us, as she very well knows, if you think it advisable to wait.”

“I don’t think it advisable,” said Ralph eagerly. “But of course I must ask whether she is really willing to put up with the discomforts of a wandering life.”

“I will go and find her,” said Max Hereford, “and you can have an interview in peace.”

Evereld and Bride were in the great drawing-room, both looking rather pale and tired after their long journey.

“Time to go to church?” asked Bride with a portentous yawn.

“No my dear, you would only go to sleep,” he said teasingly, “as your brother-in-law and Evereld’s guardian I strictly prohibit church-going this morning. Rest and be thankful, and don’t forget that you will be travelling all to-morrow night. Evereld, if you have energy enough for the interview, Mr. Marriott has sent someone round on business. Should you mind just going down to the library? He wants to put a few questions to you.” Evereld started up, looking rather nervous.

“How odd of him to come about business on a Sunday morning,” she said. “I hope he is not an alarming sort of person. Will you not come down with me?”

“Well I think on the whole you had better be alone,” said Max Hereford with profound gravity. “I always think it is a mistake to have a third person at an interview. I should only make you more nervous.”

She said no more, but set off bravely for what to her was no slight ordeal, her first business interview.

The touch of dignity, which even as a child she had possessed, was more noticeable now in the poise of her head and in her whole manner; but the face was not in the least altered: it was the same sweet gentle face which had for so long reigned in Ralph’s heart.

He sprang up to greet her, and Evereld with a joyous laugh ran towards him.

“Oh, Ralph! is it you?” she eried, radiant with happiness. “What a tease Mr. Hereford is! He told me it was someone from Mr. Marriott on business!”

Ralph laughed as he released her from his embrace. “We have not begun in a very business like way!” he said, “but it is quite true that I have come from Mr. Marriott’s house. He has been telling me of this fraudulent trustee who has treated you so shamefully. Are you very angry with those two rogues? How does it feel to be robbed of a fortune?”

“It feels anything but pleasant,” said Evereld warmly. “But what I find it hardest to forgive is the hypocrisy. Of course it is sad to think that the money which my father and grandfather earned by such hard work has all been wasted, specially as I thought it would have been useful to you some day. Do you realise, dear, that I shall be quite poor?”

“I don’t care a fig about that,” said Ralph. “But when I remember that those vile knaves nearly succeeded in trapping you into a marriage which must have been lifelong misery to you, then—well, I feel like killing.”

“But they never did nearly succeed, Ralph,” she said slipping her hand into his. “I would have died sooner than marry Bruce Wylie. Oh, how good it is to be here with you, and quite safe! That time at Glion was dreadful.”

“Do you know that you at nineteen have baffled two of the cleverest rogues of the present time?” said Ralph. “It is delicious to think of that. How did you think of such a plan and carry it out so pluckily?”

“I don’t know how,” said Evereld. “But I knew that somehow I must get away out of their power. Then, when, I was so very unhappy this thought suddenly came to me of Bride O’Ryan and AimÉe Magnay in Auvergne, and after that it was all quite simple—except, indeed, the Continental Bradshaw which nearly drove me distracted!”

“You told me in your letter about that jolly old priest who took care of you. We must go and see him some day. I should like to thank him.”

“Yes, I should so like you to see him, and you must go to Mabillon. It is such a dear old place. I have grown to love it almost as if it were my own home.”

“Don’t you think we ought now to come to the business part of the interview?” said Ralph with a mirthful glance. “Do you think, darling, that you are really willing to become the wife of an actor who has still to fight his way up the ladder? Remember that as yet you are quite free, that there is no engagement even between us.”

“The engagement really began for me that Sunday at Southbourne,” said Evereld shyly.

“And for me, too,” said Ralph. “But think once more, darling, and try to realise what it will mean. Ours will have to be, at any rate for some time, a wandering life. For Macneillie has been so very good to me that I must stay with him and try to repay him a little for all his training. Even if a London engagement were to be offered me, and that is not likely, I should feel bound to stay with him as long as he cares to have me.”

“Oh, yes of course,” said Evereld. “Why, we owe everything to him! I wonder if he would like———” she broke off rather abruptly.

“What were you going to propose?” said Ralph trying to read her face. There was a wistful look in it now which he did not understand.

“Only I have felt so dreadfully sorry for him since the Fenchurch Case. Of course I heard people talking about it, and I can’t help fancying that he must still care for Miss Greville.”

“Yes,” said Ralph. “It is very rough on him.”

“I shouldn’t like to take you away from him, Ralph,” she continued, “specially just now, for I could see quite well at Southbourne that you are almost like a son to him; you don’t know what things he said about you when you were talking to Mrs. Hereford that morning. He would miss you dreadfully. Do you think we could still be in the same house with him when we are married? Or should I bother him?”

“I don’t think you would be likely to do that,” said Ralph smiling. “When I tell him about our marriage I will see how the land lies. I wonder, darling, whether you will be able to put up with all the discomforts of life in a travelling company?”

“Why it will be the greatest fun!” cried Evereld.

“Well, I have found it a very jolly life, but, you know, wayfaring men naturally have to put up with some discomforts. You will find the endless packing and unpacking, and the settling into fresh lodgings once a week an awful bore.”

“But I shall have you, dear,” she said happily. “And nothing else will matter much.”

“Then it only remains for us to win the Lord Chancellor’s consent and to tell Macneillie, and find out when he can spare me for a few days. You won’t make me wait long will you?”

“I think Parliament meets on the 5th,” said Evereld, “and we are to come back from Ireland in the first week of February. I know the Hereford’s will let me be married from this house, and we will have a quiet wedding. You see we are both of us alone in the world; except the Marriotts and Mr. Macneillie there is really no one to ask, for of course the Mactavishs will keep away from town for some time to come.”

“I wonder what will become of poor Lady Mactavish,” said Ralph. “I fancy she has something of her own, so as far as money goes she will be all right. But how she will feel the disgrace!”

“I’m not at all sure,” said Evereld, “that now real trouble has overtaken her she won’t give up grumbling. If not I am sorry for Janet for she will have to bear the brunt of it. Oh, Ralph! what a strange world it is! Only last spring the Mactavishs seemed at the very height of their prosperity, and were so enchanted about Minnie’s engagement, and now here is Sir Matthew ruined and disgraced, and Bruce Wylie in prison.”

“Well,” said Ralph, “it’s a much better fate than the one they tried to force upon you. It’s not of them I think, but of the thousands they have cruelly injured: if you had seen your father die of a broken heart as I saw mine, you would think prison and exile a very light punishment for those cursed speculators.”

“Yes,” assented Evereld, “it was more of the suddenness of the change I was thinking. Last spring, too, you were tramping through Scotland, ill and half starved, and now——”

“Now I am the happiest man in the world,” said Ralph his face aglow with ardent love.

And after that they forgot all the troubles of the past and sat weaving delicious plans for the future, and enjoying to the full the happy present.

The next day Ralph rejoined the company in the Isle of Wight and in the evening, when supper was over, he with some trepidation told his story to the Manager.

Macneillie had of late been very silent and depressed and Ralph hated having to speak of his own happiness to one who was in the depths of dejection. However with an effort he broke the ice.

“I saw Miss Ewart’s new guardian Mr. Hereford in town,” he began, “and it seems that almost the whole of her fortune has been lost by that swindling trustee of hers. She has nothing left but a couple of hundred a year which luckily was tied up and out of Sir Matthew’s reach.”

“The scoundrel!” exclaimed Macneillie, “so he had the audacity to put her fortune into his rotten companies I suppose?”

“Yes. However it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good. The fortune is gone but so is Sir Matthew, and the new guardian permits our engagement and sees no reason why it should be a long one, he is distantly related to the Lord Chancellor and thinks he will consent to our being married shortly.”

“And what does Miss Ewart say? have you heard from her?”

“I have seen her, she was passing through London on her way to Ireland. Well, she talked very sensibly about the money, had hoped it might be useful to us, but chiefly looked on it in my fashion as a hindrance to our immediate marriage now safely removed.”

Macneillie’s grave face was suddenly convulsed with merriment. He laughed aloud at this view of the case.

“Was there ever such a couple of babies!” he said. “Pray how do you mean to live?”

“On my salary to be sure,” said Ralph, “and on the two hundred which Evereld has left.”

“You are over young yet to get much of a salary in London, and, even if we succeeded in getting you an engagement there, who can tell how long you would be secure of keeping it? Then living and rent is much higher in London, and Miss Ewart has never been used to anything except the very best.”

“But why do you speak of London?” said Ralph. “Do you mean to give me the sack, Governor, if I marry?”

Macneillie turned and looked at him in some surprise.

“I naturally concluded that having gained some experience with me you meant to go off at the earliest opportunity. That is the way of the world. You don’t mean that you intend to bring your wife to travel with us?”

“Why not? It is often done. Harden’s wife used to go about with him, they say.”

“Oh, of course it is often done, but after the sort of life Miss Ewart has been accustomed to——”

Ralph broke in eagerly.

“We talked it over very carefully, I told her exactly what it would be like, and she is only longing for the fun of it all. Indeed she made a very audacious proposal.”

“What was that?” said Macneillie pleased and interested in spite of himself.

“Her old hero worship of you is as keen as ever, she thinks nothing would be more delightful than to house-keep for you, and pour out the tea—women always think they do those things best—It’s quite a mistake! Then, too, she has a notion that you might miss me if we went off into rooms by ourselves. I told her that was nonsense.”

“No,” said Macneillie, “it’s true enough, my boy. I should miss you very much. But all the same I hardly know whether it is fair to you both to spoil the early days of your married life. I am growing a very ‘dour’ sort of man and that’s a fact.”

“You have been a second father to me,” said Ralph, “and Evereld knows that: so if, as she says, we shall not bother you——”

Macneillie laughed. “If she can put up with a ‘dour’ man as third fiddle, and promise to speak the truth when his playing jars too much with your harmony I should like nothing better than to have you both with me. To tell the truth Ralph I dread being alone just now. By the bye, have you heard Jack Carrington say anything about his part in the new play? Brinton had a notion he didn’t take to it.”

“Yes, I heard him say it didn’t suit him,” said Ralph. “I don’t see why. It seems to me rather a decent part.”

“I’m not at all sure that he will renew his engagement,” said Macneillie. “And if he leaves, why there is no reason at all why you should not become Juvenile Lead, and I could raise your salary to five pounds a week. However that is between ourselves. As for Carrington he has been with me three years and is likely enough to get a good berth somewhere before long. When do you two hope to be married?”

“Early in the spring if possible,” said Ralph.

“Well, I would never counsel a long engagement,” said Macneillie with a sigh. “You are not obeying the advice of Mrs. Siddons but, after all, there are exceptions to every rule, and Miss Ewart is one of a thousand. By the bye, I never told you—little Miss Ivy Grant wrote to ask if I could give her an engagement and I have offered her the part of the French girl. She seems to me to have exactly the face for it.”

“Oh, it will suit her down to the ground!” said Ralph looking pleased. “I am glad poor Ivy has left the Delaines, she was too good for them. Evereld will be glad that she is to be one of the Company.”