so thick his convictions crowded; but he was still more wonderful for Doctor Hugh, who assured him, none the less, that the very pages he had just published were already encrusted with gems. The young man, however, panted for the combinations to come, and, before the face of the beautiful day, renewed to Dencombe his guarantee that his profession would hold itself responsible for such a life. Then he suddenly clapped his hand upon his watch-pocket and asked leave to absent himself for half an hour. Dencombe waited there for his return, but was at last recalled to the actual by the fall of a shadow across the ground. The shadow darkened into that of Miss Vernham, the young lady in attendance on the Countess; whom Dencombe, recognizing her, perceived so clearly to have come to speak to him that he rose from his bench to acknowledge the civility. Miss Vernham indeed proved not particularly civil; she looked strangely agitated, and her type was now unmistakable.

‘Excuse me if I inquire,’ she said, ‘whether it’s too much to hope that you may be induced to leave Doctor Hugh alone.’ Then, before Dencombe, greatly disconcerted, could protest: ‘You ought to be informed that you stand in his light; that you may do him a terrible injury.’

‘Do you mean by causing the Countess to dispense with his services?’

‘By causing her to disinherit him.’ Dencombe stared at this, and Miss Vernham pursued, in the gratification of seeing she could produce an impression: ‘It has depended on himself to come into something very handsome. He has had a magnificent prospect, but I think you’ve succeeded in spoiling it.’

‘Not intentionally, I assure you. Is there no hope the accident may be repaired?’ Dencombe asked.

‘She was ready to do anything for him. She takes great fancies, she lets herself go—it’s her way. She has no relations, she’s free to dispose of her money, and she’s very ill.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear it,’ Dencombe stammered.

‘Wouldn’t it be possible for you to leave Bournemouth? That’s what I’ve come to ask of you.’

Poor Dencombe sank down on his bench. ‘I’m very ill myself, but I’ll try!’

Miss Vernham still stood there with her colourless eyes and the brutality of her good conscience. ‘Before it’s too late, please!’ she said; and with this she turned her back, in order, quickly, as if it had been a business to which she could spare but a precious moment, to pass out of his sight.

Oh, yes, after this Dencombe was certainly very ill. Miss Vernham had upset him with her rough, fierce news; it was the sharpest shock to him to discover what was at stake for a penniless young man of fine parts. He sat trembling on his bench, staring at the waste of waters, feeling sick with the directness of the blow. He was indeed too weak, too unsteady, too alarmed; but he would make the effort to get away, for he couldn’t accept the guilt of interference, and his honour was really involved. He would hobble home, at any rate, and then he would think what was to be done. He made his way back to the hotel and, as he went, had a characteristic vision of Miss Vernham’s great motive. The Countess hated women, of course; Dencombe was lucid about that; so the hungry pianist had no personal hopes and could only console herself with the bold conception of helping Doctor Hugh in order either to marry him after he should get his money or to induce him to recognize her title to compensation and buy her off. If she had befriended him at a fruitful crisis he would really, as a man of delicacy, and she knew what to think of that point, have to reckon with her.

At the hotel Dencombe’s servant insisted on his going back to bed. The invalid had talked about catching a train and had begun with orders to pack; after which his humming nerves had yielded to a sense of sickness. He consented to see his physician, who immediately was sent for, but he wished it to be understood that his door was irrevocably closed to Doctor Hugh. He had his plan, which was so fine that he rejoiced in it after getting back to bed. Doctor Hugh, suddenly finding himself snubbed without mercy, would, in natural disgust and to the joy of Miss Vernham, renew his allegiance to the Countess. When his physician