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chapter ivjackson lemon had said to dr. feeder in the park that he would call on mr. and mrs. freer;but three weeks were to elapse before he knocked at their door in jermyn street.in the meantime he had met them at dinner and mrs. freer had told him how much she hopedhe would find time to come and see her. she had not reproached him nor shaken herfinger at him, and her clemency, which was calculated and very characteristic of her,touched him so much—for he was in fault, she was one of his mother's oldest and bestfriends—that he very soon presented himself. it was on a fine sunday afternoon, ratherlate, and the region of jermyn street looked forsaken and inanimate; the native dulnessof the brick scenery reigned undisputed.

mrs. freer, however, was at home, restingon a lodging-house sofa—an angular couch draped in faded chintz—before she went todress for dinner. she made the young man very welcome; she toldhim again how much she had been thinking of him; she had longed so for a chance to talkwith him. he immediately guessed what she had in hermind, and he then remembered that sidney feeder had named to him what it was this pair tookupon themselves to say. this had provoked him at the time, but hehad forgotten it afterward; partly because he became aware that same night of his wantingto make the "young marchioness" his own and partly because since then he had sufferedmuch greater annoyance. yes, the poor young

man, so conscious of liberal intentions, ofa large way of looking at the future, had had much to irritate and disgust him. he hadseen the mistress of his affections but three or four times, and had received a letter frommr. hardman, lord canterville's solicitor, asking him, in terms the most obsequious itwas true, to designate some gentleman of the law with whom the preliminaries of his marriageto lady barbarina clement might be arranged. he had given mr. hardman the name of sucha functionary, but he had written by the same post to his own solicitor—for whose servicesin other matters he had had much occasion, jackson lemon being distinctly contentious—instructinghim that he was at liberty to meet that gentleman, but not at liberty to entertain any proposalsas to the odious english idea of a settlement.

if marrying jackson lemon wasn't settlementenough the house of canterville had but to alter their point of view.it was quite out of the question he should alter his.it would perhaps be difficult to explain the strong dislike he entertained to the introductioninto his prospective union of this harsh diplomatic element; it was as if they mistrusted himand suspected him; as if his hands were to be tied so that he shouldn't be able to handlehis own fortune as he thought best. it wasn't the idea of parting with his moneythat displeased him, for he flattered himself he had plans of expenditure for his wife beyondeven the imagination of her distinguished parents.it struck him even that they were fools not

to have felt subtly sure they should makea much better thing of it by leaving him perfectly free.this intervention of the solicitor was a nasty little english tradition—totally at variancewith the large spirit of american habits—to which he wouldn't submit.it wasn't his way to submit when he disapproved: why should he change his way on this occasionwhen the matter lay so near him? these reflexions and a hundred more had flowedfreely through his mind for several days before his call in jermyn street, and they had engendereda lively indignation and a bitter sense of wrong.they had even introduced, as may be imagined, a certain awkwardness into his relations withthe house of canterville, of which indeed

it may be said that these amenities were forthe moment virtually suspended. his first interview with lady barb after hisconference with the old couple, as he called her august elders, had been as frank, hadbeen as sweet, as he could have desired. lady canterville had at the end of three dayssent him an invitation—five words on a card—asking him to dine with them on the morrow quiteen famille. this had been the only formal intimation thathis engagement to her daughter was recognised; for even at the family banquet, which includedhalf a dozen guests of pleasant address but vague affiliation, there had been no referenceon the part either of his host or his hostess to the subject of their converse in lord canterville'sden.

the only allusion was a wandering ray, onceor twice, in lady barb's own fine eyes. when, however, after dinner, she strolledaway with him into the music-room, which was lighted and empty, to play for him somethingout of "carmen," of which he had spoken at table, and when the young couple were allowedto enjoy for upwards of an hour, unmolested, the comparative privacy of that elegant refuge,he felt lady canterville definitely to count on him.she didn't believe in any serious difficulties. neither did he then; and that was why it wasnot to be condoned that there should be a vain appearance of them.the arrangements, he supposed her ladyship would have said, were pending, and indeedthey were; for he had already given orders

in bond street for the setting of an extraordinarynumber of diamonds. lady barb, at any rate, during that hour hespent with her, had had nothing to say about arrangements; and it had been an hour of puresatisfaction. she had seated herself at the piano and hadplayed perpetually, in a soft incoherent manner, while he leaned over the instrument, veryclose to her, and said everything that came into his head.she was braver and handsomer than ever and looked at him as if she liked him out andout. this was all he expected of her, for it didn'tbelong to the cast of her beauty to betray a vulgar infatuation.that beauty was clearly all he had believed

it from the first, and with something nowthrown in, something ever so touching and stirring, which seemed to stamp her from thatmoment as his precious possession. he felt more than ever her intimate valueand the great social outlay it had taken to produce such a mixture.simple and girlish as she was, and not particularly quick in the give and take of conversation,she seemed to him to have a part of the history of england in her blood; she was the fineflower of generations of privileged people and of centuries of rich country-life. betweenthese two of course was no glance at the question which had been put into the hands of mr. hardman,and the last thing that occurred to jackson was that lady barb had views as to his settlinga fortune upon her before their marriage.

it may appear odd, but he hadn't asked himselfwhether his money operated on her in any degree as a bribe; and this was because, instinctively,he felt such a speculation idle—the point was essentially not to be ascertained—andbecause he was quite ready to take it for agreeable to her to continue to live in luxury.it was eminently agreeable to him to have means to enable her to do so.he was acquainted with the mingled character of human motives and glad he was rich enoughto pretend to the hand of a young woman who, for the best of reasons, would be very expensive.after the good passage in the music-room he had ridden with her twice, but hadn't foundher otherwise accessible. she had let him know the second time theyrode that lady canterville had directed her

to make, for the moment, no further appointmentwith him; and on his presenting himself more than once at the house he had been told thatneither the mother nor the daughter was at home: it had been added that lady barb wasstaying at roehampton. in touching on that restriction she had launchedat him just a distinguishable mute reproach—there was always a certain superior dumbness inher eyes—as if he were exposing her to an annoyance she ought to be spared, or takingan eccentric line on a question that all well-bred people treated in the conventional way.his induction from this was not that she wished to be secure about his money, but that, likea dutiful english daughter, she received her opinions—on points that were indifferentto her—ready-made from a mamma whose fallibility

had never been exposed.he knew by this that his solicitor had answered mr. hardman's letter and that lady canterville'scoolness was the fruit of the correspondence. the effect of it was not in the least to makehim come round, as he phrased it; he had not the smallest intention of doing that.lady canterville had spoken of the traditions of her family; but he had no need to go tohis family for his own. they resided within himself; anything he hadonce undiscussably made up his mind to acquired in three minutes the force, and with thatthe due dignity of a tradition. meanwhile he was in the detestable positionof not knowing whether or no he were engaged. he wrote to lady barb to clear it up, to smoothit down—it being so strange she shouldn't

receive him; and she addressed him in returna very pretty little letter, which had to his mind a fine by-gone quality, an old-fashioned,a last-century freshness that might have flowed, a little thinly, from the pen of clarissaor sophia. she professed that she didn't in the leastunderstand the situation; that of course she would never give him up; that her mother hadsaid there were the best reasons for their not going too fast; that, thank god, she wasyet young and could wait as long as he would; but that she begged he wouldn't write herabout money-matters: she had never been able to count even on her fingers.he felt in no danger whatever of making this last mistake; he only noted how lady barbthought it natural there should be a discussion;

and this made it vivid to him afresh thathe had got hold of a daughter of the crusaders. his ingenious mind could appreciate this hereditaryassumption at the very same time that, to light his own footsteps, it remained entirelymodern. he believed—or he thought he believed—that in the end he should marry his gorgeous girlon his own terms; but in the interval there was a sensible indignity in being challengedand checked. one effect of it indeed was to make him desirethe young woman more intensely. when she wasn't before his eyes in the fleshshe hovered before him as an image, and this image had reasons of its own for making himat hours fairly languid with love. there were moments, however, when he weariedof the mere enshrined memory—it was too

impalpable and too thankless.then it befell that jackson lemon for the first time in his life dropped and gave way—gaveway, that is, to the sense of sadness. he felt alone in london, and very much outof it, in spite of all the acquaintances he had made and the bills he had paid; he feltthe need of a greater intimacy than any he had formed—save of course in the case oflady barb. he wanted to vent his disgust, to relievehimself, from the new york point of view. he felt that in engaging in a contest withthe great house of canterville he was after all rather single.that singleness was of course in a great measure an inspiration; but it pinched him hard atmoments.

then it would have pleased him could his motherhave been near; he used to talk of his affairs a great deal with this delightful parent,who had a delicate way of advising him in the sense he liked best.he had even gone so far as to wish he had never laid eyes on lady barb, but had fallenin love instead with some one or other of the rarer home-products. he presently cameback of course to the knowledge that in the united states there was—and there couldbe—nothing nearly so rare as the young lady who had in fact appealed to him so straight,for was it not precisely as a high resultant of the english climate and the british constitutionthat he valued her? he had relieved himself, from his new yorkpoint of view, by speaking his mind to lady

beauchemin, who confessed that she was infinitelyvexed with her parents. she agreed with him that they had made a greatmistake; they ought to have left him free; and she expressed her confidence that suchfreedom could only have been, in him, for her family, like the silence of the sage,golden. he must let them down easily, must rememberthat what was asked of him had been their custom for centuries.she didn't mention her authority as to the origin of customs, but she promised him shewould say three words to her father and mother which would make it all right.jackson answered that customs were all very well, but that really intelligent people recognisedat sight, and then indeed quite enjoyed, the

right occasion for departing from them; andwith this he awaited the result of lady beauchemin's remonstrance.it had not as yet been perceptible, and it must be said that this charming woman washerself not quite at ease. when on her venturing to hint to her motherthat she thought a wrong line had been taken with regard to her sister's prã©tendant, ladycanterville had replied that mr. lemon's unwillingness to settle anything was in itself a proof ofwhat they had feared, the unstable nature of his fortune—since it was useless to talk(this gracious lady could be very decided) as if there could be any serious reason butthat one—on meeting this argument, as i say, jackson's protectress felt considerablybaffled. it was perhaps true, as her mother

said, that if they didn't insist upon properpledges barbarina might be left in a few years with nothing but the stars and stripes—thisodd phrase was a quotation from mr. lemon—to cover her withal.lady beauchemin tried to reason it out with lady marmaduke; but these were complicationsunforeseen by lady marmaduke in her project of an anglo-american society.she was obliged to confess that mr. lemon's fortune couldn't have the solidity of long-establishedthings; it was a very new fortune indeed. his father had made the greater part of itall in a lump, a few years before his death, in the extraordinary way in which people mademoney in america; that of course was why the son had those singular professional attributes.he had begun to study to be a doctor very

young, before his expectations were so great.then he had found he was very clever and very fond of it, and had kept on because afterall, in america, where there were no country gentlemen, a young man had to have somethingto do, don't you know? and lady marmaduke, like an enlightened woman,intimated that in such a case she thought it in much better taste not to try to sinkanything. "because in america, don't you see?" she reasoned, "you can't sink it—nothingwill sink. everything's floating about—in the newspapers."and she tried to console her friend by remarking that if mr. lemon's fortune was precariousit was at all events so big. that was just the trouble for lady beauchemin,it was so big and yet they were going to lose

it.he was as obstinate as a mule; she was sure he would never come round.lady marmaduke declared he really would come round; she even offered to bet a dozen pairof gants de suã¨de on it; and she added that this consummation lay quite in the hands ofbarbarina. lady beauchemin promised herself to contendwith her sister, as it was not for nothing she had herself caught the glamour of herfriend's international scheme. jackson lemon, to dissipate his chagrin, hadreturned to the sessions of the medical congress, where, inevitably, he had fallen into thehands of sidney feeder, who enjoyed in this disinterested assembly the highest esteem.it was dr. feeder's earnest desire that his

old friend should share his credit—all themore easily that the medical congress was, as the young physician observed, a perpetualsymposium. jackson entertained the entire body at dinner—entertainedit profusely and in a manner befitting one of the patrons of science rather than thehumbler votaries; but these dissipations made him forget but for the hour the arrest ofhis relations with the house of canterville. it punctually came back to him that he wasdisconcerted, and dr. feeder saw it stamped on his brow. jackson lemon, with his acuteinclination to open himself, was on the point more than once of taking this sturdy friendinto his confidence. his colleague gave him easy occasion—asked him what it was he wasthinking of all the time and whether the young

marchioness had concluded she couldn't swallowa doctor. these forms of speech were displeasing toour baffled aspirant, whose fastidiousness was nothing new; but he had even deeper reasonsfor saying to himself that in such complicated cases as his there was no assistance in thesidney feeders. to understand his situation one must knowthe world, and the children of cincinnati, prohibitively provincial, didn't know theworld—at least the world with which this son of new york was now concerned."is there a hitch in your marriage? just tell me that," sidney feeder had said, taking thingsfor granted in a manner that of itself testified to an innocence abysmal.it is true he had added that he supposed he

had no business to ask; but he had been anxiousabout it ever since hearing from mr. and mrs. freer that the british aristocracy was downon the medical profession. "do they want you to give it up? is that whatthe hitch is about? don't desert your colours, jackson. the suppression of pain, the mitigationof misery, constitute surely the noblest profession in the world.""my dear fellow, you don't know what you're talking about," jackson could only observein answer to this. "i haven't told any one i was going to bemarried—still less have i told any one that any one objects to my profession. i shouldlike to see any one do it. i've rather got out of the swim, but i don't regard myselfas the sort of person that people object to.

and i do expect to do something yet.""come home, then, and do it. and don't crush me with grandeur if i say that the facilitiesfor getting married are much greater over there.""you don't seem to have found them very great," jackson sniffed."i've never had time really to go into them. but wait till my next vacation and you'llsee." "the facilities over there are too great.nothing's worth while but what's difficult," said jackson with a sententious ring thatquite distressed his mate. "well, they've got their backs up, i can seethat. i'm glad you like it. only if they despise your profession what will they say to thatof your friends? if they think you're queer

what would they think of me?" asked sidneyfeeder, whose spirit was not as a general thing in the least bitter, but who was pushedto this sharpness by a conviction that—in spite of declarations which seemed half anadmission and half a denial—his friend was suffering worry, or really perhaps somethingalmost like humiliation, for the sake of a good that might be gathered at home on everybush. "my dear fellow, all that's 'rot'!"this had been jackson's retort, which expressed, however, not half his feeling.the other half was inexpressible, or almost, springing as it did from his depth of displeasureat its having struck even so genial a mind as sidney feeder's that in proposing to marrya daughter of the highest civilisation he

was going out of his way—departing fromhis natural line. was he then so ignoble, so pledged to inferiorthings, that when he saw a girl who—putting aside the fact that she hadn't genius, whichwas rare, and which, though he prized rarity, he didn't want—seemed to him the most naturallyand functionally founded and seated feminine subject he had known, he was to think himselftoo different, too incongruous, to mate with her?he would mate with whom he "damn pleased"; that was the upshot of jackson lemon's passion.several days elapsed during which everybody—even the pure-minded, like poor sidney—seemedto him very abject. all of which is recorded to show how he, ingoing to see mrs. freer, was prepared much

less to be angry with people who, like herhusband and herself a month before, had given it out that he was engaged to a peer's daughter,than to resent the insinuation that there were obstacles to such a prospect.he sat with the lady of jermyn street alone for half an hour in the sabbatical stillness.her husband had gone for a walk in the park—he always walked in the park of a sunday.all the world might have been there and jackson and mrs. freer in sole possession of the districtof saint james's. this perhaps had something to do with makinghim at last so confidential; they had such a margin for easy egotism and spreading sympathy.mrs. freer was ready for anything—in the critical, the "real" line; she treated himas a person she had known from the age of

ten; asked his leave to continue recumbent;talked a great deal about his mother and seemed almost, for a while, to perform the earnestfunctions of that lady. it had been wise of her from the first notto allude, even indirectly, to his having neglected so long to call; her silence onthis point was in the best taste. jackson had forgotten how it was a habit withher, and indeed a high accomplishment, never to reproach people with these omissions.you might have left her alone for months or years, her greeting was always the same; shenever was either too delighted to see you or not delighted enough.after a while, however, he felt her silence to be in some measure an allusion; she appearedto take for granted his devoting all his hours

to a certain young lady.it came over him for a moment that his compatriots took a great deal for granted; but when mrs.freer, rather abruptly sitting up on her sofa, said to him half-simply, half-solemnly: "andnow, my dear jackson, i want you to tell me something!"—he saw that, after all, shekept within bounds and didn't pretend to know more about his business than he himself did.in the course of a quarter of an hour—so appreciatively she listened—he had givenher much information. it was the first time he had said so muchto any one, and the process relieved him even more than he would have supposed.there were things it made clear to him by bringing them to a point—above all, thefact that he had been wronged.

he made no mention whatever of its being outof the usual way that, as an american doctor, he should sue for the hand of a marquis'sdaughter; and this reserve was not voluntary, it was quite unconscious.his mind was too full of the sudden rudeness of the cantervilles and the sordid side oftheir want of confidence. he couldn't imagine that while he talked tomrs. freer—and it amazed him afterwards that he should have chattered so; he couldaccount for it but by the state of his nerves—she should be thinking only of the strangenessof the situation he sketched for her. she thought americans as good as other people,but she didn't see where, in american life, the daughter of a marquis would, as she phrasedit, work in.

to take a simple instance—they coursed throughmrs. freer's mind with extraordinary speed—wouldn't she always expect to go in to dinner first?as a novelty and for a change, over there, they might like to see her do it—there mightbe even a pressure for places at the show. but with the increase of every kind of sophisticationthat was taking place in america the humorous view to which she would owe her immediateease mightn't continue to be taken; and then where would poor lady barb be?this was in truth a scant instance; but mrs. freer's vivid imagination—much as she hadlived in europe she knew her native land so well—saw a host of others massing themselvesbehind it. the consequence of all of which was that afterlistening to her young friend in the most

engaging silence she raised her clasped hands,pressed them against her breast, lowered her voice to a tone of entreaty and, with allthe charming cheer of her wisdom, uttered three words: "my dear jackson, don't—don't—don't.""don't what?" he took it at first coldly."don't neglect the chance you have of getting out of it. you see it would never do."he knew what she meant by his chance of getting out of it; he had in his many meditationsof course not overlooked that. the ground the old couple had taken aboutsettlements—and the fact that lady beauchemin hadn't come back to him to tell him, as shepromised, that she had moved them, proved how firmly they were rooted—would have offeredan all-sufficient pretext to a man who should

have repented of his advances. jackson knewthis, but knew at the same time that he had not repented. the old couple's want of imaginationdidn't in the least alter the fact that the girl was, in her perfection, as he had toldher father, one of the rarest of types. therefore he simply said to mrs. freer thathe didn't in the least wish to get out of it; he was as much in it as ever and intendedto remain in it. but what did she mean, he asked in a moment,by her statement that it would never do? why wouldn't it do? mrs. freer replied byanother question—should he really like her to tell him?it wouldn't do because lady barb wouldn't be satisfied with her place at dinner.she wouldn't be content—in a society of

commoners—with any but the best; and thebest she couldn't expect (and it was to be supposed he didn't expect her) always grosslyto monopolise; as people of her sort, for that matter, did so successfully grab it inengland. "what do you mean by commoners?" jackson rathergrimly demanded. "i mean you and me and my poor husband anddr. feeder," said mrs. freer. "i don't see how there can be commoners wherethere aren't lords. it's the lord that makes the commoner, and vice versa.""won't a lady do as well? our lady barb—a single english girl—can make a million inferiors.""she will be, before anything else, my wife; and she won't on the whole think it any lessvulgar to talk about inferiors than i do myself."

"i don't know what she'll talk about, my dearjackson, but she'll think; and her thoughts won't be pleasant—i mean for others. doyou expect to sink her to your own rank?" dr. lemon's bright little eyes rested moresharply on his hostess. "i don't understand you and don't think youunderstand yourself." this was not absolutely candid, for he didunderstand mrs. freer to a certain extent; it has been related that before he asked ladybarb's hand of her parents there had been moments when he himself doubted if a floweronly to be described as of the social hothouse, that is of aristocratic air, would flourishin american earth. but an intimation from another person thatit was beyond his power to pass off his wife—whether

she were the daughter of a peer or of a shoemaker—setall his blood on fire. it quenched on the instant his own perceptionof difficulties of detail and made him feel only that he was dishonoured—he the heirof all the ages—by such insinuations. it was his belief—though he had never beforehad occasion to put it forward—that his position, one of the best in the world, hadabout it the felicity that makes everything possible.he had had the best education the age could offer, for if he had rather wasted his timeat harvard, where he entered very young, he had, as he believed, been tremendously seriousat heidelberg and at vienna. he had devoted himself to one of the noblestof professions—a profession recognised as

such everywhere but in england—and had inheriteda fortune far beyond the expectation of his earlier years, the years when he cultivatedhabits of work which alone (or rather in combination with talents that he neither exaggerated norundervalued) would have conduced to distinction. he was one of the most fortunate inhabitantsof an immense fresh rich country, a country whose future was admitted to be incalculable,and he moved with perfect ease in a society in which he was not overshadowed by others.it seemed to him, therefore, beneath his dignity to wonder whether he could afford, sociallyspeaking, to marry according to his taste. he pretended to general strength, and whatwas the use of strength if you weren't prepared to undertake things timid people might finddifficult?

it was his plan to marry the woman he desiredand not be afraid of her afterward. the effect of mrs. freer's doubt of his successwas to represent to him that his own character wouldn't cover his wife's; she couldn't havemade him feel worse if she had told him that he was marrying beneath him and would haveto ask for indulgence. "i don't believe you know how much i thinkthat any woman who marries me will be doing very well," he promptly added."i'm very sure of that; but it isn't so simple—one's being an american," mrs. freer rejoined witha small philosophic sigh. "it's whatever one chooses to make it.""well, you'll make it what no one has done yet if you take that young lady to americaand make her happy there."

"do you think our country, then, such a verydreadful place?" his hostess had a pause."it's not a question of what i think, but of what she will."jackson rose from his chair and took up his hat and stick.he had actually turned a little pale with the force of his emotion; there was a pangof wrath for him in this fact that his marriage to lady barbarina might be looked at as toohigh a flight. he stood a moment leaning against the mantelpieceand very much tempted to say to mrs. freer that she was a vulgar-minded old woman.but he said something that was really more to the point."you forget that she'll have her consolations."

"don't go away or i shall think i've offendedyou. you can't console an injured noblewoman." "how will she be injured? people will be charmingto her." "they'll be charming to her—charming toher!" these words fell from the lips of dexter freer,who had opened the door of the room and stood with the knob in his hand, putting himselfinto relation to his wife's talk with their visitor.this harmony was achieved in an instant. "of course i know whom you mean," he saidwhile he exchanged greetings with jackson. "my wife and i—naturally we're great busybodies—havetalked of your affair and we differ about it completely.she sees only the dangers, while i see all

the advantages.""by the advantages he means the fun for us," mrs. freer explained, settling her sofa-cushions.jackson looked with a certain sharp blankness from one of these disinterested judges tothe other; even yet they scarce saw how their misdirected freedom wrought on him.it was hardly more agreeable to him to know that the husband wished to see lady barb inamerica than to know that the wife waved away such a vision.there was that in dexter freer's face which seemed to forecast the affair as taking placesomehow for the benefit of the spectators. "i think you both see too much—a great dealtoo much—in the whole thing," he rather coldly returned."my dear young man, at my age i may take certain

liberties," said dexter freer."do what you've planned—i beseech you to do it; it has never been done before."and then as if jackson's glance had challenged this last assertion he went on: "never, iassure you, this particular thing. young female members of the british aristocracy have marriedcoachmen and fishmongers and all that sort of thing; but they've never married you andme." "they certainly haven't married the 'likes'of either of you!" said mrs. freer. "i'm much obliged to you for your advice."it may be thought that jackson lemon took himself rather seriously, and indeed i'm afraidthat if he hadn't done so there would have been no occasion even for this summary reportof him.

but it made him almost sick to hear his engagementspoken of as a curious and ambiguous phenomenon. he might have his own ideas about it—onealways had about one's engagement; but the ideas that appeared to have peopled the imaginationof his friends ended by kindling a small hot expanse in each of his cheeks."i'd rather not talk any more about my little plans," he added to his host."i've been saying all sorts of absurd things to mrs. freer.""they've been most interesting and most infuriating," that lady declared. "you've been very stupidlytreated." "may she tell me when you go?" her husbandasked of the young man. "i'm going now—she may tell you whatevershe likes."

"i'm afraid we've displeased you," she wenton; "i've said too much what i think. you must pardon me—it's all for your mother.""it's she whom i want lady barb to see!" jackson exclaimed with the inconsequence of filialaffection. "deary me!" mrs. freer gently wailed."we shall go back to america to see how you get on," her husband said; "and if you succeedit will be a great precedent." "oh i shall succeed!"and with this he took his departure. he walked away with the quick step of a manlabouring under a certain excitement; walked up to piccadilly and down past hyde park corner.it relieved him to measure these distances, for he was thinking hard, under the influenceof irritation, and it was as if his movement

phrased his passion. certain lights flashedon him in the last half-hour turned to fire in him; the more that they had a representativevalue and were an echo of the common voice. if his prospects wore that face to mrs. freerthey would probably wear it to others; so he felt a strong sharp need to show such othersthat they took a mean measure of his position. he walked and walked till he found himselfon the highway of hammersmith. i have represented him as a young man witha stiff back, and i may appear to undermine this plea when i note that he wrote that eveningto his solicitor that mr. hardman was to be informed he would agree to any proposals forsettlements that this worthy should make. jackson's stiff back was shown in his decidingto marry lady barbarina on any terms.

it had come over him through the action ofthis desire to prove he wasn't afraid—so odious was the imputation—that terms ofany kind were very superficial things. what was fundamental and of the essence ofthe matter would be to secure the grand girl and then carry everything out.end of chapter iv chapter v"on sundays now you might be at home," he said to his wife in the following month ofmarch—more than six months after his marriage. "are the people any nicer on sundays thanthey are on other days?" lady barb asked from the depths of her chair and without lookingup from a stiff little book. he waited ever so briefly before answering."i don't know whether they are, but i think

you might be.""i'm as nice as i know how to be. you must take me as i am. you knew when you marriedme that i wasn't american." jackson stood before the fire toward whichhis wife's face was turned and her feet extended; stood there some time with his hands behindhim and his eyes dropped a little obliquely on lady barb's bent head and richly-drapedfigure. it may be said without delay that he was soreof soul, and it may be added that he had a double cause.he knew himself on the verge of the first crisis that had occurred between himself andhis wife—the reader will note that it had occurred rather promptly—and he was annoyedat his annoyance.

a glimpse of his state of mind before hismarriage has been given the reader, who will remember that at that period our young manhad believed himself lifted above possibilities of irritation.when one was strong one wasn't fidgety, and a union with a species of calm goddess wouldof course be a source of repose. lady barb was a calm, was an even calmer goddessstill, and he had a much more intimate view of her divinity than on the day he had ledher to the altar; but i'm not sure he felt either as firm or as easy."how do you know what people are?" he said in a moment."you've seen so few; you're perpetually denying yourself. if you should leave new york to-morrowyou'd know wonderfully little about it."

"it's all just the same," she pleaded."the people are all exactly alike. there's only one sort.""how can you tell? you never see them." "didn't i go out every night for the firsttwo months we were here?" "it was only to about a dozen houses—those,i agree, always the same; people, moreover, you had already met in london. you've gotno general impressions." she raised her beautiful blank face."that's just what i have got; i had them before i came. i see no difference whatever. they'vejust the same names—just the same manners." again for an instant jackson hung fire; thenhe said with that practised flat candour of which mention has already been made and whichhe sometimes used in london during his courtship:

"don't you like it over here?"lady barb had returned to her book, but she looked up again."did you expect me to like it?" "i hoped you would, of course. i think i toldyou so." "i don't remember. you said very little aboutit; you seemed to make a kind of mystery. i knew of course you expected me to live here,but i didn't know you expected me to like it.""you thought i asked of you the sacrifice, as it were.""i'm sure i don't know," said lady barb. she got up from her chair and tossed her unconsolatoryvolume into the empty seat. "i recommend you to read that book," she added."is it interesting?"

"it's an american novel.""i never read novels." "you had really better look at that one. itwill show you the kind of people you want me to know.""i've no doubt it's very vulgar," jackson said."i don't see why you read it." "what else can i do? i can't always be ridingin the park. i hate the park," she quite rang out."it's just as good as your own," said her husband.she glanced at him with a certain quickness, her eyebrows slightly lifted."do you mean the park at pasterns?" "no; i mean the park in london.""oh i don't care about london. one was only

in london a few weeks."she had a horrible lovely ease. yet he but wanted to help her to turn round."i suppose you miss the country," he suggested. it was his idea of life that he shouldn'tbe afraid of anything, not be afraid, in any situation, of knowing the worst that was tobe known about it; and the demon of a courage with which discretion was not properly commingledprompted him to take soundings that were perhaps not absolutely necessary for safety and yetthat revealed unmistakable rocks. it was useless to know about rocks if he couldn'tavoid them; the only thing was to trust to the wind."i don't know what i miss. i think i miss everything!"this was his wife's answer to his too-curious

inquiry.it wasn't peevish, for that wasn't the tone of a calm goddess; but it expressed a gooddeal—a good deal more than lady barb, who was rarely eloquent, had expressed before.nevertheless, though his question had been precipitate, jackson said to himself thathe might take his time to think over what her fewness of words enclosed; he couldn'thelp seeing that the future would give him plenty of chance.he was in no hurry to ask himself whether poor mrs. freer, in jermyn street, mightn'tafter all have been right in saying that when it came to marrying an english caste-productit wasn't so simple to be an american doctor—it might avail little even in such a case tobe the heir of all the ages.

the transition was complicated, but in hisbright mind it was rapid, from the brush of a momentary contact with such ideas to certainconsiderations which led him to go on after an instant: "should you like to go down intoconnecticut?" "into connecticut?""that's one of our states. it's about as large as ireland. i'll take you there if you like.""what does one do there?" "we can try and get some hunting.""you and i alone?" "perhaps we can get a party to join us.""the people in the state?" "yes—we might propose it to them.""the tradespeople in the towns?" "very true—they'll have to mind their shops,"jackson said.

"but we might hunt alone.""are there any foxes?" "no, but there are a few old cows."lady barb had already noted that her husband sought the relief of a laugh at her expense,and she was aware that this present opportunity was neither worse nor better than some others.she didn't mind that trick in him particularly now, though in england it would have disgustedher; she had the consciousness of virtue, an immense comfort, and flattered herselfshe had learned the lesson of an altered standard of fitness—besides which there were so manymore disagreeable things in america than being laughed at by one's husband.but she pretended not to like it because this made him stop, and above all checked discussion,which with jackson was habitually so facetious

and consequently so tiresome."i only want to be left alone," she said in answer—though indeed it hadn't the styleof an answer—to his speech about the cows. with this she wandered away to one of thewindows that looked out on the fifth avenue. she was very fond of these windows and hadtaken a great fancy to the fifth avenue, which, in the high-pitched winter weather, when everythingsparkled, was bright and funny and foreign. it will be seen that she was not wholly unjustto her adoptive country: she found it delightful to look out of the window.this was a pleasure she had enjoyed in london only in the most furtive manner; it wasn'tthe kind of thing that girls in england did. besides, in london, in hill street, therewas nothing particular to see; whereas in

the fifth avenue everything and every onewent by, and observation was made consistent with dignity by the quantities of brocadeand lace dressing the embrasure, which somehow wouldn't have been tidy in england and whichmade an ambush without concealing the brilliant day.hundreds of women—the queer women of new york, who were unlike any that lady barb hadhitherto seen—passed the house every hour; and her ladyship was infinitely entertainedand mystified by the sight of their clothes. she spent more time than she was aware ofin this recreation, and had she been addicted to returning upon herself, to asking herselffor an account of her conduct—an inquiry she didn't indeed completely neglect, butmade no great form of—she must have had

a wan smile for this proof of what she appearedmainly to have come to america for, conscious though she was that her tastes were very simpleand that so long as she didn't hunt it didn't much matter what she did.her husband turned about to the fire, giving a push with his foot to a log that had fallenout of its place. then he said—and the connexion with thewords she had just uttered was direct enough—"you really must manage to be at home on sundays,you know. i used to like that so much in london.all the best women here do it. you had better begin to-day. i'm going tosee my mother. if i meet any one i'll tell them to come.""tell them not to talk so much," said lady

barb among her lace curtains."ah, my dear," jackson returned, "it isn't every one who has your concision."and he went and stood behind her in the window, putting his arm round her waist.it was as much of a satisfaction to him as it had been six months before, at the timethe solicitors were settling the matter, that this flower of an ancient stem should be wornupon his own breast; he still thought its fragrance a thing quite apart, and it wasas clear as day to him that his wife was the handsomest woman in new york. he had begun,after their arrival, by telling her this very often; but the assurance brought no colourto her cheek, no light to her eyes: to be the handsomest woman in new york, now thatshe was acquainted with that city, plainly

failed to strike her as a position in life.the reader may, moreover, be informed that, oddly enough, lady barb didn't particularlybelieve this assertion. there were some very pretty women in new york,and without in the least wishing to be like them—she had seen no woman in america whomshe desired to resemble—she envied them some of their peculiar little freshnesses.it's probable that her own finest points were those of which she was most unconscious.but jackson was intensely aware of all of them; nothing could exceed the minutenessof his appreciation of his wife. it was a sign of this that after he had stoodbehind her a moment he kissed her very tenderly. "have you any message for my mother?" he asked."please give her my love. and you might take

her that book.""what book?" "that nasty one i've been reading.""oh bother your books!" he cried with a certain irritation as he went out of the room.there had been a good many things in her life in new york that cost her an effort, but sendingher love to her mother-in-law was not one of these.she liked mrs. lemon better than any one she had seen in america; she was the only personwho seemed to lady barb really simple, as she herself understood that quality.many people had struck her as homely and rustic and many others as pretentious and vulgar;but in jackson's mother she had found the golden mean of a discretion, of a native felicityand modesty and decency, which, as she would

have said, were really nice.her sister, lady agatha, was even fonder of mrs. lemon; but then lady agatha had takenthe most extraordinary fancy to every one and everything, and talked as if america werethe most delightful country in the world. she was having a lovely time—she alreadyspoke the most beautiful american—and had been, during the bright winter just drawingto a close, the most prominent girl in new york.she had gone out at first with her elder; but for some weeks past lady barb had letso many occasions pass that agatha threw herself into the arms of mrs. lemon, who found herunsurpassably quaint and amusing and was delighted to take her into society.mrs. lemon, as an old woman, had given up

such vanities; but she only wanted a motive,and in her good nature she ordered a dozen new caps and sat smiling against the wallwhile her little english maid, on polished floors, to the sound of music, cultivatedthe american step as well as the american tone.there was no trouble in new york about going out, and the winter wasn't half over beforethe little english maid found herself an accomplished diner, finding her way without any chaperonat all to feasts where she could count on a bouquet at her plate.she had had a great deal of correspondence with her own female parent on this point,and lady canterville had at last withdrawn her protest, which in the meantime had beenperfectly useless.

it was ultimately lady canterville's feelingthat if she had married the handsomest of her daughters to an american doctor she mightlet another become a professional raconteuse—agatha had written to her that she was expected totalk so much—strange as such a destiny seemed for a girl of nineteen. mrs. lemon had evena higher simplicity than lady barb imputed to her; for she hadn't noticed that lady agathadanced much oftener with herman longstraw than with any one else.jackson himself, though he went little to balls, had discovered this truth, and he lookedslightly preoccupied when, after he had sat five minutes with his mother on the sundayafternoon through which i have invited the reader to trace so much more than—i am afraid—iseasily apparent of the progress of this simple

story, he learned that his sister-in-law wasentertaining mr. longstraw in the library. that young man had called half an hour before,and she had taken him into the other room to show him the seal of the cantervilles,which she had fastened to one of her numerous trinkets—she was adorned with a hundredbangles and chains—and the proper exhibition of which required a taper and a stick of wax.apparently he was examining it very carefully, for they had been absent a good while.mrs. lemon's simplicity was further shown by the fact that she had not measured theirabsence; it was only when jackson questioned her that she remembered.herman longstraw was a young californian who had turned up in new york the winter beforeand who travelled on his moustache, as they

were understood to say in his native state.this moustache and some of its accompanying features were greatly admired; several ladiesin new york had been known to declare that they were as beautiful as a dream.taken in connexion with his tall stature, his familiar good nature and his remarkablewestern vocabulary they constituted his only social capital; for of the two great divisions,the rich californians and the poor californians, it was well known to which he belonged.doctor lemon had viewed him as but a slightly mitigated cowboy, and was somewhat vexed athis own parent, though also aware that she could scarcely figure to herself what an effectsuch a form of speech as this remarkably straight echo of the prairie would produce in the hallsof canterville.

he had no desire whatever to play a trickon the house to which he was allied, and knew perfectly that lady agatha hadn't been sentto america to become entangled with a californian of the wrong denomination.he had been perfectly willing to bring her; he thought, a little vindictively, that thiswould operate as a hint to her progenitors on what he might have imagined doing if theyhadn't been so stupidly bent on mr. hardman. herman longstraw, according to the legend,had been a trapper, a squatter, a miner, a pioneer—had been everything that one couldbe in the desperate parts of america, and had accumulated masses of experience beforethe age of thirty. he had shot bears in the rockies and buffaloeson the plains; and it was even believed that

he had brought down animals of a still moredangerous kind among the haunts of men. there had been a story that he owned a cattle-ranchin arizona; but a later and apparently more authentic version of it, though representinghim as looking after the cattle, didn't depict him as their proprietor.many of the stories told about him were false; but there was no doubt his moustache, hisnative ease and his native accent were the best of their kind.he danced very badly; but lady agatha had frankly told several persons that that wasnothing new to her, and in short she delighted—this, however, she didn't tell—in mr. herman longstraw.what she enjoyed in america was the revelation of freedom, and there was no such proof offreedom as absolutely unrestricted discourse

with a gentleman who dressed in crude skinswhen not in new york and who, in his usual pursuits, carried his life—as well as thatof other persons—in his hand. a gentleman whom she had sat next to at dinnerin the early part of her visit had remarked to her that the united states were the paradiseof women and of mechanics; and this had seemed to her at the time very abstract, for shewasn't conscious as yet of belonging to either class. in england she had been only a girl,and the principal idea connected with that was simply that for one's misfortune one wasn'ta boy. but she presently herself found the odd americanworld a true sojourn of the youthful blest; and this helped her to know that she mustbe one of the people mentioned in the axiom

of her neighbour—people who could do whateverthey wanted, had a voice in everything and made their taste and their ideas felt.she saw what fun it was to be a woman in america, and that this was the best way to enjoy thenew york winter—the wonderful brilliant new york winter, the queer long-shaped glitteringcity, the heterogeneous hours among which you couldn't tell the morning from the afternoonor the night from either of them, the perpetual liberties and walks, the rushings-out andthe droppings-in, the intimacies, the endearments, the comicalities, the sleigh-bells, the cutters,the sunsets on the snow, the ice-parties in the frosty clearness, the bright hot velvetyhouses, the bouquets, the bonbons, the little cakes, the big cakes, the irrepressible inspirationsof shopping, the innumerable luncheons and

dinners offered to youth and innocence, thequantities of chatter of quantities of girls, the perpetual motion of the "german," thesuppers at restaurants after the play, the way in which life was pervaded by delmonicoand delmonico by the sense that though one's hunting was lost, and this therefore so different,it was very nearly as good. in all, through all, flowed a suffusion ofloud unmodulated friendly sound which reminded her of an endless tuning of rather bad fiddles.lady agatha was at present staying for a little change with mrs. lemon, and such adventuresas that were part of the pleasure of her american season.the house was too close, but physically the girl could bear anything, and it was all shehad to complain of; for mrs. lemon, as we

know, thought her a weird little specimen,and had none of those old-world scruples in regard to spoiling young people to which ladyagatha herself now knew she must in the past have been unduly sacrificed. in her own way—itwas not at all her sister's way—she liked to be of importance; and this was assuredlythe case when she saw that mrs. lemon had apparently nothing in the world to do, afterspending a part of the morning with her servants, but invent little distractions—many of themof the edible sort—for her guest. she appeared to have several friends, butshe had no society to speak of, and the people who entered her house came principally tosee lady agatha. this, as we have noted, was strikingly thecase with herman longstraw.

the whole situation gave the young strangera great feeling of success—success of a new and unexpected kind. of course in englandshe had been born successful, as it might be called, through her so emerging in oneof the most beautiful rooms at pasterns; but her present triumph was achieved more by herown effort—not that she had tried very hard—and by her merit.it wasn't so much what she said—since she could never equal for quantity the girls ofnew york—as the spirit of enjoyment that played in her fresh young face, with its pointlesscurves, and shone in her grey english eyes. she enjoyed everything, even the street-cars,of which she made liberal use; and more than everything she enjoyed mr. longstraw and histalk about buffaloes and bears.

mrs. lemon promised to be very careful assoon as her son had begun to warn her; and this time she had a certain understandingof what she promised. she thought people ought to make the matchesthey liked; she had given proof of this in her late behaviour to jackson, whose own unionwas, to her sense, marked with all the arbitrariness of pure love. nevertheless she could see thatherman longstraw would probably be thought rough in england; and it wasn't simply thathe was so inferior to jackson, for, after all, certain things were not to be expected.jackson was not oppressed with his mother-in-law, having taken his precautions against sucha danger; but he was certain he should give lady canterville a permanent advantage overhim if her third daughter should while in

america attach herself to a mere moustache.it was not always, as i have hinted, that mrs. lemon entered completely into the viewsof her son, though in form she never failed to subscribe to them devoutly.she had never yet, for instance, apprehended his reason for marrying poor lady barb.this was a great secret, and she was determined, in her gentleness, that no one should everknow it. for herself, she was sure that to the endof time she shouldn't discover jackson's reason. she might never ask about it, for that ofcourse would betray her. from the first she had told him she was delighted,there being no need of asking for explanations then, as the young lady herself, when sheshould come to know her, would explain.

but the young lady hadn't yet explained andafter this evidently never would. she was very tall, very handsome, she answeredexactly to mrs. lemon's prefigurement of the daughter of a lord, and she wore her clothes,which were peculiar, but to one of her shape remarkably becoming, very well.but she didn't elucidate; we know ourselves that there was very little that was explanatoryabout lady barb. so mrs. lemon continued to wonder, to askherself, "why that one, more than so many others who'd have been more natural?"the choice struck her, as i have said, as quite arbitrary. she found lady barb verydifferent from other girls she had known, and this led her almost immediately to feelsorry for her daughter-in-law. she felt how

the girl was to be pitied if she found herhusband's people as peculiar as his mother found her, since the result of that wouldbe to make her very lonesome. lady agatha was different, because she seemedto keep nothing back; you saw all there was of her, and she was evidently not home-sick.mrs. lemon could see that barbarina was ravaged by this last ailment and was also too haughtyto show it. she even had a glimpse of the ultimate truth;namely, that jackson's wife had not the comfort of crying, because that would have amountedto a confession that she had been idiotic enough to believe in advance that, in an americantown, in the society of doctors, she should escape such pangs.mrs. lemon treated her with studied consideration—all

the indulgence that was due to a young womanin the unfortunate position of having been married one couldn't tell why.the world, to the elder lady's view, contained two great departments, that of people andthat of things; and she believed you must take an interest either in one or the other.the true incomprehensible in lady barb was that she cared for neither side of the show.her house apparently inspired her with no curiosity and no enthusiasm, though it hadbeen thought magnificent enough to be described in successive columns of the native newspapers;and she never spoke of her furniture or her domestics, though she had a prodigious showof such possessions. she was the same with regard to her acquaintance,which was immense, inasmuch as every one in

the place had called on her.mrs. lemon was the least critical woman in the world, but it had occasionally ruffledher just a little that her daughter-in-law should receive every one in new york quitein the same automatic manner. there were differences, mrs. lemon knew, andsome of them of the highest importance; but poor lady barb appeared never to suspect them.she accepted every one and everything and asked no questions.she had no curiosity about her fellow-citizens, and as she never assumed it for a moment shegave mrs. lemon no opportunity to enlighten her.lady barb was a person with whom you could do nothing unless she left you an opening;and nothing would have been more difficult

than to "post" her, as her mother-in-law wouldhave said, against her will. of course she picked up a little knowledge,but she confounded and transposed american attributes in the most extraordinary way.she had a way of calling every one doctor; and mrs. lemon could scarcely convince herthat this distinction was too precious to be so freely bestowed.she had once said to that supporter that in new york there was nothing to know peopleby, their names were so very monotonous; and mrs. lemon had entered into this enough tosee that there was something that stood out a good deal in barbarina's own prefix.it is probable that during her short period of domestication complete justice was notdone lady barb; she never—as an instance—got

credit for repressing her annoyance at thepoverty of the nominal signs and styles, a deep desolation.that little speech to her husband's mother was the most reckless sign she gave of it;and there were few things that contributed more to the good conscience she habituallyenjoyed than her self-control on this particular point.doctor lemon was engaged in professional researches just now, which took up a great deal of histime; and for the rest he passed his hours unreservedly with his wife.for the last three months, therefore, he had seen his other nearest relative scarcely morethan once a week. in spite of researches, in spite of medicalsocieties, where jackson, to her knowledge,

read papers, lady barb had more of her husband'scompany than she had counted on at the time she married.she had never known a married pair to be so much together as she and jackson; he appearedto expect her to sit with him in the library in the morning.he had none of the occupations of gentlemen and noblemen in england, for the element ofpolitics appeared to be as absent as the element of the chase.there were politics in washington, she had been told, and even at albany, and jacksonhad proposed to introduce her to these cities; but the proposal, made to her once at dinner,before several people, had excited such cries of horror that it fell dead on the spot."we don't want you to see anything of that

kind," one of the ladies had said, and jacksonhad appeared to be discouraged—that is if in regard to jackson she could really tell."pray what is it you want me to see?" lady barb had asked on this occasion."well, new york and boston (boston if you want to very much, but not otherwise), andthen niagara. but more than anything newport." she was tired of their eternal newport; shehad heard of it a thousand times and felt already as if she had lived there half herlife; she was sure, moreover, that she should hate the awful little place.this is perhaps as near as she came to having a lively conviction on any american subject.she asked herself whether she was then to spend her life in the fifth avenue with alternationsof a city of villas—she detested villas—and

wondered if that was all the great americancountry had to offer her. there were times when she believed she shouldlike the backwoods and that the far west might be a resource; for she had analysed her feelingsjust deep enough to discover that when she had—hesitating a good deal—turned overthe question of marrying jackson lemon it was not in the least of american barbarismshe was afraid; her dread had been all of american civilisation.she judged the little lady i have just quoted a goose, but that didn't make new york anymore interesting. it would be reckless to say that she sufferedfrom an overdose of jackson's company, since she quite felt him her most important socialresource.

she could talk to him about england, abouther own england, and he understood more or less what she wished to say—when she wishedto say anything, which was not frequent. there were plenty of other people who talkedabout england; but with them the range of allusion was always the hotels, of which sheknew nothing, and the shops and the opera and the photographs: they had the hugest appetitefor photographs. there were other people who were always wantingher to tell them about pasterns and the manner of life there and the parties; but if therewas one thing lady barb disliked more than another it was describing pasterns.she had always lived with people who knew of themselves what such a place would be,without demanding these pictorial efforts,

proper only, as she vaguely felt, to personsbelonging to the classes whose trade was the arts of expression. lady barb of course hadnever gone into it; but she knew that in her own class the business was not to expressbut to enjoy, not to represent but to be represented—though indeed this latter liability might involveoffence; for it may be noted that even for an aristocrat jackson lemon's wife was aristocratic.lady agatha and her visitor came back from the library in course of time, and jacksonlemon felt it his duty to be rather cold to herman longstraw. it wasn't clear to him whatsort of a husband his sister-in-law would do well to look for in america—if therewere to be any question of husbands; but as to that he wasn't bound to be definite providedhe should rule out mr. longstraw.

this gentleman, however, was not given tonoticing shades of manner; he had little observation, but very great confidence."i think you had better come home with me," jackson said to lady agatha; "i guess you'vestayed here long enough." "don't let him say that, mrs. lemon!" thegirl cried. "i like being with you so awfully.""i try to make it pleasant," said mrs. lemon. "i should really miss you now; but perhapsit's your mother's wish." if it was a question of defending her guestfrom ineligible suitors mrs. lemon felt of course that her son was more competent thanshe; though she had a lurking kindness for herman longstraw and a vague idea that hewas a gallant genial specimen of unsophisticated

young america."oh mamma wouldn't see any difference!" lady agatha returned with pleading blue eyes onher brother-in-law. "mamma wants me to see every one; you knowshe does. that's what she sent me to america for; she knows—for we've certainly toldher enough—that it isn't like england. she wouldn't like it if i didn't sometimes staywith people; she always wanted us to stay at other houses. and she knows all about you,mrs. lemon, and she likes you immensely. she sent you a message the other day and i'm afraidi forgot to give it you—to thank you for being so kind to me and taking such a lotof trouble. really she did, but i forgot it. if she wants me to see as much as possibleof america it's much better i should be here

than always with barb—it's much less likeone's own country. i mean it's much nicer—for a girl," said lady agatha affectionately tomrs. lemon, who began also to look at jackson under the influence of this uttered sweetnesswhich was like some quaint little old air, she thought, played upon a faded spinet withtwo girlish fingers. "if you want the genuine thing you ought tocome out on the plains," mr. longstraw interposed with bright sincerity."i guess that was your mother's idea. why don't you all come out?"he had been looking intently at lady agatha while the remarks i have just repeated succeededeach other on her lips—looking at her with a fascinated approbation, for all the worldas if he had been a slightly slow-witted english

gentleman and the girl herself a flower ofthe west, a flower that knew the celebrated language of flowers.susceptible even as mrs. lemon was he made no secret of the fact that lady agatha's voicewas music to him, his ear being much more accessible than his own inflexions would haveindicated. to lady agatha those inflexions were not displeasing,partly because, like mr. herman himself in general, she had not a perception of shades;and partly because it never occurred to her to compare them with any other tones.he seemed to her to speak a foreign language altogether—a romantic dialect through whichthe most comical meanings gleamed here and there."i should like it above all things," she said

in answer to his last observation."the scenery's ahead of anything round here," mr. longstraw went on.mrs. lemon, as we have gathered, was the mildest of women; but, as an old new yorker, she hadno patience with some of the new fashions. chief among these was the perpetual reference,which had become common only within a few years, to the outlying parts of the country,the states and territories of which children, in her time, used to learn the names, in theirorder, at school, but which no one ever thought of going to or talking about.such places, in her opinion, belonged to the geography-books, or at most to the literatureof newspapers, but neither to society nor to conversation; and the change—which, sofar as it lay in people's talk, she thought

at bottom a mere affectation—threatenedto make her native land appear vulgar and vague.for this amiable daughter of manhattan the normal existence of man, and still more ofwomen, had been "located," as she would have said, between trinity church and the beautifulreservoir at the top of the fifth avenue—monuments of which she was personally proud; and ifwe could look into the deeper parts of her mind i am afraid we should discover therean impression that both the countries of europe and the remainder of her own continent wereequally far from the centre and the light. "well, scenery isn't everything," she madesoft answer to mr. longstraw; "and if lady agatha should wish to see anything of thatkind all she has got to do is to take the

boat up the hudson."mrs. lemon's recognition of this river, i should say, was all it need have been; sheheld the hudson existed for the purpose of supplying new yorkers with poetical feelings,helping them to face comfortably occasions like the present and, in general, meet foreignerswith confidence—part of the oddity of foreigners being their conceit about their own places."that's a good idea, lady agatha; let's take the boat," said mr. longstraw."i've had great times on the boats." lady agatha fixed on her amoroso her singularcharming eyes, eyes of which it was impossible to say at any moment whether they were theshyest or the frankest in the world; and she was not aware while this contemplation lastedthat her brother-in-law was observing her.

he was thinking of certain things while hedid so, of things he had heard about the english; who still, in spite of his having marriedinto a family of that nation, appeared to him very much through the medium of hearsay.they were more passionate than the americans, and they did things that would never havebeen expected; though they seemed steadier and less excitable there was much social evidenceto prove them more wildly impulsive. "it's so very kind of you to propose that,"lady agatha said in a moment to mrs. lemon. "i think i've never been in a ship—exceptof course coming from england. i'm sure mamma would wish me to see the hudson.we used to go in immensely for boating in england.""did you boat in a ship?" herman longstraw

asked, showing his teeth hilariously and pullinghis moustaches. "lots of my mother's people have been in thenavy." lady agatha perceived vaguely and good-naturedlythat she had said something the odd americans thought odd and that she must justify herself.something most unnatural was happening to her standard of oddity."i really think you had better come back to us," jackson repeated: "your sister's verylonely without you." "she's much more lonely with me. we're perpetuallyhaving differences. barb's dreadfully vexed because i like america instead of—insteadof—" and lady agatha paused a moment; for it just occurred to her that this might betreacherous.

"instead of what?" jackson inquired."instead of perpetually wanting to go to england, as she does," she went on, only giving herphrase a little softer turn; for she felt the next moment that barb could have nothingto hide and must of course have the courage of her opinions."of course england's best, but i daresay i like to be bad," the girl said artlessly."oh there's no doubt you're awfully bad," mr. longstraw broke out, with joyous eagerness.naturally he couldn't know that what she had principally in mind was an exchange of opinionsthat had taken place between her sister and herself just before she came to stay withmrs. lemon. this incident, of which he himself was theoccasion, might indeed have been called a

discussion, for it had carried them quiteinto the cold air of the abstract. lady barb had said she didn't see how agathacould look at such a creature as that—an odious familiar vulgar being who had not abouthim the rudiments of a gentleman. lady agatha had replied that mr. longstrawwas familiar and rough and that he had a twang and thought it amusing to talk to her as "theprincess"; but that he was a gentleman for all that and was tremendous fun whatever onecalled him—it didn't seem to matter what one called any one or anything there.her sister had returned to this that if he was rough and familiar he couldn't be a gentleman,inasmuch as that was just what a gentleman meant—a man who was civil and well-bredand well-born.

lady agatha had argued that such a point wasjust where she differed; that a man might perfectly be a gentleman and yet be rough,and even ignorant, so long as he was really nice.the only thing was that he should be really nice, which was the case with mr. longstraw,who, moreover, was quite extraordinarily civil—as civil as a man could be.and then lady agatha herself made the strongest point she had ever made in her life (she hadnever been so inspired) in saying that mr. longstraw was rough perhaps, but not rude—adistinction altogether wasted on her sister, who declared that she hadn't come to america,of all places, to learn what a gentleman was. the discussion in short had been a triflegrim.

i know not whether it was the tonic effecton them too, alien organisms as they were, of the fine winter weather, or that of ladybarb's being bored and having nothing else to do; but lord canterville's daughters wentinto the question with the moral earnestness of a pair of approved bostonians.it was part of lady agatha's view of her admirer that he after all much resembled other tallpeople with smiling eyes and tawny moustaches who had ridden a good deal in rough countriesand whom she had seen in other places. if he was more familiar he was also more alert;still, the difference was not in himself, but in the way she saw him—the way she saweverybody in america. if she should see the others in the same way no doubt they'd bequite the same; and lady agatha sighed a little

over the possibilities of life; for this peculiarway, especially regarded in connexion with gentlemen, had become very pleasant to her.she had betrayed her sister more than she thought, even though jackson didn't particularlyshow it in the tone in which he commented: "of course she knows she's going to see yourmother in the summer." his tone was rather that of irritation atso much harping on the very obvious. "oh it isn't only mamma," the girl said."i know she likes a cool house," mrs. lemon contributed."when she goes you had better bid her good-bye," lady agatha went on."of course i shall bid her good-bye," said mrs. lemon, to whom apparently this remarkwas addressed.

"i'll never bid you good-bye, princess," hermanlongstraw interposed. "you can bet your life on that.""oh it doesn't matter about me, for of course i shall come back; but if barb once gets toengland she never will." "oh my dear child!" mrs. lemon wailed, addressingher young visitor, but looking at her son, who on his side looked at the ceiling, atthe floor, looked above all very conscious. "i hope you don't mind my saying that, jacksondear," lady agatha said to him, for she was very fond of her brother-in-law."ah well then, she shan't go there," he threw off in a moment with a small strange dry laughthat attached his mother's eyes in shy penetration to his face."but you promised mamma, you know," said the

girl with the confidence of her affection.jackson's countenance expressed to her none even of his very moderate hilarity."your mother, then, must bring her back." "get some of your navy people to supply anironclad!" cried mr. longstraw. "it would be very pleasant if the marchionesscould come over," said mrs. lemon. "oh she'd hate it more than poor barb," ladyagatha quickly replied. it didn't at all suit her to find a marchionessinserted into her field of vision. "doesn't she feel interested from what you'vetold her?" lady agatha's admirer inquired. but jackson didn't heed his sister-in-law'sanswer—he was thinking of something else. he said nothing more, however, about the subjectof his thought, and before ten minutes were

over took his departure, having meanwhileneglected also to revert to the question of lady agatha's bringing her visit to his motherto a close. it wasn't to speak to him of this—for, aswe know, she wished to keep the girl and somehow couldn't bring herself to be afraid of hermanlongstraw—that when her son took leave she went with him to the door of the house, detaininghim a little while she stood on the steps, as people had always done in new york in hertime, though it was another of the new fashions she didn't like, the stiffness of not comingout of the parlour. she placed her hand on his arm to keep himon the "stoop" and looked up and down into the lucid afternoon and the beautiful city—itschocolate-coloured houses so extraordinarily

smooth—in which it seemed to her that eventhe most fastidious people ought to be glad to live.it was useless to attempt to conceal it: his marriage had made a difference and a worry,had put a barrier that she was yet under the painful obligation of trying to seem not tonotice. it had brought with it a problem much moredifficult than his old problem of how to make his mother feel herself still, as she hadbeen in his childhood, the dispenser of his rewards. the old problem had been easily solved,the new was a great tax. mrs. lemon was sure her daughter-in-law didn'ttake her seriously, and that was a part of the barrier.even if barbarina liked her better than any

one else this was mostly because she likedevery one else so little. mrs. lemon had in her nature no grain of resentment, and itwasn't to feed a sense of wrong that she permitted herself to criticise her son's wife.she couldn't help feeling that his marriage wasn't altogether fortunate if his wife didn'ttake his mother seriously. she knew she wasn't otherwise remarkable thanas being his mother; but that position, which was no merit of hers—the merit was all jackson'sin being her son—affected her as one which, familiar as lady barb appeared to have beenin england with positions of various kinds, would naturally strike the girl as very highand to be accepted as freely as a fine morning. if she didn't think of his mother as an indivisiblepart of him perhaps she didn't think of other

things either; and mrs. lemon vaguely feltthat, remarkable as jackson was, he was made up of parts, and that it would never do thatthese should be rated lower one by one, since there was no knowing what that might end in.she feared that things were rather cold for him at home when he had to explain so muchto his wife—explain to her, for instance, all the sources of happiness that were tobe found in new york. this struck her as a new kind of problem altogetherfor a husband. she had never thought of matrimony withouta community of feeling in regard to religion and country; one took those great conditionsfor granted just as one assumed that one's food was to be cooked; and if jackson shouldhave to discuss them with his wife he might,

in spite of his great abilities, be carriedinto regions where he would get entangled and embroiled—from which even possibly hewouldn't come back at all. mrs. lemon had a horror of losing him in someway, and this fear was in her eyes as she stood by the doorway of her house and, aftershe had glanced up and down the street, eyed him a moment in silence.he simply kissed her again and said she would take cold."i'm not afraid of that—i've a shawl!" mrs. lemon, who was very small and very fair,with pointed features and an elaborate cap, passed her life in a shawl, and owed to thishabit her reputation for being an invalid—an idea she scorned, naturally enough, inasmuchas it was precisely her shawl that, as she

believed, kept every ill at bay."is it true barbarina won't come back?" she then asked."i don't know that we shall ever find out; i don't know that i shall take her to england,"jackson distinctly returned. she looked more anxious still."didn't you promise, dear?" "i don't know that i promised—not absolutely.""but you wouldn't keep her here against her will?" quavered mrs. lemon."i guess she'll get used to it," he returned with a levity that misrepresented the stateof his nerves. mrs. lemon looked up and down the street againand gave a little sigh. "what a pity she isn't american!"she didn't mean this as a reproach, a hint

of what might have been; it was simply embarrassmentresolved into speech. "she couldn't have been american," said jacksonwith decision. "couldn't she, dear?"his mother spoke with conscientious respect; she felt there were imperceptible reasonsin this. "it was just as she is that i wanted her,"jackson added. "even if she won't come back?" mrs. lemonwent on with wonder. "oh she has got to come back!" jackson saidas he went down the steps. end of chapter v chapter vilady barb, after this, didn't decline to see

her new york acquaintances on sunday afternoons,though she refused for the present to enter into a project of her husband's, who thoughtit would be pleasant she should entertain his friends on the evening of that day.like all good americans, doctor lemon devoted much consideration to the great question ofhow, in his native land, society was to be brought into being.it seemed to him it would help on the good cause, for which so many americans are readyto lay down their lives, if his wife should, as he jocularly called it, open a saloon.he believed, or tried to believe, the salon now possible in new york on condition of itsbeing reserved entirely for adults; and in having taken a wife out of a country in whichsocial traditions were rich and ancient he

had done something toward qualifying his ownhouse—so splendidly qualified in all strictly material respects—to be the scene of suchan effort. a charming woman accustomed only to the beston each side, as lady beauchemin said, what mightn't she achieve by being at home—alwaysto adults only—in an easy early inspiring comprehensive way and on the evening of theseven when worldly engagements were least numerous?he laid this philosophy before lady barb in pursuance of a theory that if she dislikednew york on a short acquaintance she couldn't fail to like it on a long.jackson believed in the new york mind—not so much indeed in its literary artistic philosophicor political achievements as in its general

quickness and nascent adaptability.he clung to this belief, for it was an indispensable neat block in the structure he was attemptingto rear. the new york mind would throw its glamourover lady barb if she would only give it a chance; for it was thoroughly bright responsiveand sympathetic. if she would only set up by the turn of herhand a blest snug social centre, a temple of interesting talk in which this charmingorgan might expand and where she might inhale its fragrance in the most convenient and luxuriousway, without, as it were, getting up from her chair; if she would only just try thisgraceful good-natured experiment—which would make every one like her so much too—he wassure all the wrinkles in the gilded scroll

of his fate would be smoothed out.but lady barb didn't rise at all to his conception and hadn't the least curiosity about the newyork mind. she thought it would be extremely disagreeable to have a lot of people tumblingin on sunday evening without being invited; and altogether her husband's sketch of theanglo-american saloon seemed to her to suggest crude familiarity, high vociferation—shehad already made a remark to him about "screeching women"—and random extravagant laughter.she didn't tell him—for this somehow it wasn't in her power to express, and, strangelyenough, he never completely guessed it—that she was singularly deficient in any naturalor indeed acquired understanding of what a saloon might be.she had never seen or dreamed of one—and

for the most part was incapable of imagininga thing she hadn't seen. she had seen great dinners and balls and meetsand runs and races; she had seen garden-parties and bunches of people, mainly women—who,however, didn't screech—at dull stuffy teas, and distinguished companies collected in splendidcastles; but all this gave her no clue to a train of conversation, to any idea of asocial agreement that the interest of talk, its continuity, its accumulations from seasonto season, shouldn't be lost. conversation, in lady barb's experience, hadnever been continuous; in such a case it would surely have been a bore.it had been occasional and fragmentary, a trifle jerky, with allusions that were neverexplained; it had a dread of detail—it seldom

pursued anything very far or kept hold ofit very long. there was something else she didn't say toher husband in reference to his visions of hospitality, which was that if she shouldopen a saloon—she had taken up the joke as well, for lady barb was eminently good-natured—mrs.vanderdecken would straightway open another, and mrs. vanderdecken's would be the moresuccessful of the two. this lady, for reasons lady barb had not yetexplored, passed for the great personage of new york; there were legends of her husband'sfamily having behind them a fabulous antiquity. when this was alluded to it was spoken ofas something incalculable and lost in the dimness of time.mrs. vanderdecken was young, pretty, clever,

incredibly pretentious, lady barb thought,and had a wonderfully artistic house. ambition was expressed, further, in everyrustle of her garments; and if she was the first lady in america, "bar none"—this hadan immense sound—it was plain she intended to retain the character.it was not till after she had been several months in new york that lady barb began toperceive this easy mistress of the field, crying out, gracious goodness, before shewas hurt, to have flung down the glove; and when the idea presented itself, lighted upby an incident i have no space to report, she simply blushed a little (for mrs. vanderdecken)and held her tongue. she hadn't come to america to bandy wordsabout "precedence" with such a woman as that.

she had ceased to think of that convenience—ofcourse one was obliged to think in england; though an instinct of self-preservation, oldand deep-seated, led her not to expose herself to occasions on which her imputed claim mightbe tested. this had at bottom much to do with her having,very soon after the first flush of the honours paid her on her arrival and which seemed toher rather grossly overdone, taken the line of scarcely going out."they can't keep that up!" she had said to herself; and in short she would stay, lessboringly both for herself and for others, at home.she had a sense that whenever and wherever she might go forth she should meet mrs. vanderdecken,who would withhold or deny or contest or even

magnanimously concede something—poor ladybarb could never imagine what. she didn't try to, and gave little thoughtto all this; for she wasn't prone to confess to herself fears, especially fears from whichterror was absent. what in the world had mrs. vanderdecken thatshe, barbarina lemon (what a name!), could want?but, as i have said, it abode within her as a presentiment that if she should set up adrawing-room in the foreign style (based, that is, on the suppression of prattling chitsand hobbledehoys) this sharp skirmisher would be beforehand with her.the continuity of conversation, oh that she would certainly go in for—there was no oneso continuous as mrs. vanderdecken.

lady barb, as i have related, didn't giveher husband the surprise of confiding to him these thoughts, though she had given him someother surprises. he would have been decidedly astonished, andperhaps after a bit a little encouraged, at finding her liable to any marked form of exasperation.on the sunday afternoon she was visible; and at one of these junctures, going into herdrawing-room late, he found her entertaining two ladies and a gentleman.the gentleman was sidney feeder and one of the ladies none other than mrs. vanderdecken,whose ostensible relations with her were indeed of the most cordial nature.intending utterly to crush her—as two or three persons, not perhaps conspicuous fora narrow accuracy, gave out that she privately

declared—mrs. vanderdecken yet wished atleast to study the weak points of the invader, to penetrate herself with the character ofthe english girl. lady barb verily appeared to have for therepresentative of the american patriciate a mysterious fascination.mrs. vanderdecken couldn't take her eyes off her victim and, whatever might be her estimateof her importance, at least couldn't let her alone."why does she come to see me?" poor lady barb asked herself."i'm sure i don't want to see her; she has done enough for civility long ago."mrs. vanderdecken had her own reasons, one of which was simply the pleasure of lookingat the doctor's wife, as she habitually called

the daughter of the cantervilles.she wasn't guilty of the rashness of depreciating the appearance of so markedly fine a youngwoman, but professed a positive unbounded admiration for it, defending it on many occasionsagainst those of the superficial and stupid who pronounced her "left nowhere" by the bestof the home-grown specimens. whatever might have been lady barb's weak points, they includedneither the curve of her cheek and chin, the setting of her head on her throat, nor thequietness of her deep eyes, which were as beautiful as if they had been blank, likethose of antique busts. "the head's enchanting—perfectly enchanting,"mrs. vanderdecken used to say irrelevantly and as if there were only one head in theplace.

she always used to ask about the doctor—whichwas precisely another reason why she came. she dragged in the doctor at every turn, askingif he were often called up at night; found it the greatest of luxuries, in a word, toaddress lady barb as the wife of a medical man and as more or less au courant of herhusband's patients. the other lady, on this sunday afternoon,was a certain little mrs. chew, who had the appearance of a small but very expensive dolland was always asking lady barb about england, which mrs. vanderdecken never did.the latter discoursed on a purely american basis and with that continuity of which mentionhas already been made, while mrs. chew engaged sidney feeder on topics equally local.lady barb liked sidney feeder; she only hated

his name, which was constantly in her earsduring the half-hour the ladies sat with her, mrs. chew having, like so many persons innew york, the habit, which greatly annoyed her, of re-apostrophising and re-designatingevery one present. lady barb's relations with mrs. vanderdeckenconsisted mainly in wondering, while she talked, what she wanted of her, and in looking, withher sculptured eyes, at her visitor's clothes, in which there was always much to examine."oh doctor feeder!" "now doctor feeder!""well doctor feeder"—these exclamations, on mrs. chew's lips, were an undertone inlady barb's consciousness. when we say she liked her husband's confrã¨re,as he never failed to describe himself, we

understand that she smiled on his appearanceand gave him her hand, and asked him if he would have tea. there was nothing nasty, asthey so analytically said in london, about lady barb, and she would have been incapableof inflicting a deliberate snub on a man who had the air of standing up so squarely toany purpose he might have in hand. but she had nothing of her own at all to sayto sidney feeder. he apparently had the art of making her shy,more shy than usual—since she was always a little so; she discouraged him, discouragedhim completely and reduced him to naught. he wasn't a man who wanted drawing out, therewas nothing of that in him, he was remarkably copious; but she seemed unable to follow himin any direction and half the time evidently

didn't know what he was saying.he tried to adapt his conversation to her needs; but when he spoke of the world, ofwhat was going on in society, she was more at sea even than when he spoke of hospitalsand laboratories and the health of the city and the progress of science.she appeared indeed after her first smile when he came in, which was always charming,scarcely to see him—looking past him and above him and below him, everywhere but athim, till he rose to go again, when she gave him another smile, as expressive of pleasureand of casual acquaintance as that with which she had greeted his entry: it seemed to implythat they had been having delightful communion. he wondered what the deuce jackson lemon couldfind interesting in such a woman, and he believed

his perverse, though gifted, colleague notdestined to feel her in the long run enrich or illuminate his life.he pitied jackson, he saw that lady barb, in new york, would neither assimilate norbe assimilated; and yet he was afraid, for very compassion, to betray to the poor manhow the queer step he had taken—now so dreadfully irrevocable—might be going to strike mostothers. sidney feeder was a man of a strenuous conscience,who did loyal duty overmuch and from the very fear he mightn't do it enough.in order not to appear to he called upon lady barb heroically, in spite of pressing engagementsand week after week, enjoying his virtue himself as little as he made it fruitful for his hostess,who wondered at last what she had done to

deserve this extremity of appreciation.she spoke of it to her husband, who wondered also what poor sidney had in his head andyet naturally shrank from damping too brutally his zeal. between the latter's wish not tolet jackson see his marriage had made a difference and jackson's hesitation to reveal to himthat his standard of friendship was too high, lady barb passed a good many of those numeroushours during which she asked herself if they were the "sort of thing" she had come to americafor. very little had ever passed between her andher husband on the subject of the most regular of her bores, a clear instinct warning herthat if they were ever to have scenes she must choose the occasion well, and this oddperson not being an occasion.

jackson had tacitly admitted that his "confrã¨re"was anything she chose to think him; he was not a man to be guilty in a discussion ofthe disloyalty of damning a real friend with praise that was faint.if lady agatha had been less of an absentee from her sister's fireside, meanwhile, doctorfeeder would have been better entertained; for the younger of the english pair pridedherself, after several months of new york, on understanding everything that was said,on interpreting every sound, no matter from what lips the monstrous mystery fell.but lady agatha was never at home; she had learned to describe herself perfectly by thetime she wrote her mother that she was always on the go.none of the innumerable victims of old-world

tyranny welcomed to the land of freedom hadyet offered more lavish incense to that goddess than this emancipated london debutante. shehad enrolled herself in an amiable band known by the humorous name of "the tearers"—adozen young ladies of agreeable appearance, high spirits and good wind, whose most generalcharacteristic was that, when wanted, they were to be sought anywhere in the world butunder the roof supposed to shelter them. they browsed far from the fold; and when sidneyfeeder, as sometimes happened, met lady agatha at other houses, she was in the hands of theirrepressible longstraw. she had come back to her sister, but mr. longstrawhad followed her to the door. as to passing it, he had received direct discouragementfrom her brother-in-law; but he could at least

hang about and wait for her.it may be confided to the reader at the risk of discounting the effect of the only passagein this very level narrative formed to startle that he never had to wait very long.when jackson lemon came in his wife's visitors were on the point of leaving her; and he didn'teven ask his colleague to remain, for he had something particular to say to lady barb."i haven't put to you half the questions i wanted—i've been talking so much to doctorfeeder," the dressy mrs. chew said, holding the hand of her hostess in one of her ownand toying at one of lady barb's ribbons with the other."i don't think i've anything to tell you; i think i've told people everything," ladybarb answered rather wearily.

"you haven't told me much!" mrs. vanderdeckenrichly radiated. "what could one tell you? you know everything,"jackson impatiently laughed. "ah no—there are some things that are greatmysteries for me!" this visitor promptly pronounced. "i hope you're coming to me on the seventeenth,"she added to lady barb. "on the seventeenth? i believe we go somewhere.""do go to mrs. vanderdecken's," said mrs. chew; "you'll see the cream of the cream.""oh gracious!" mrs. vanderdecken vaguely cried. "well, i don't care; she will, won't she,doctor feeder?—the very pick of american society."mrs. chew stuck to her point. "oh i've no doubt lady barb will have a goodtime," said sidney feeder. "i'm afraid you

miss the bran," he went on with irrelevantjocosity to jackson's bride. he always tried the jocose when other elementshad failed. "the bran?"jackson's bride couldn't think. "where you used to ride—in the park.""my dear fellow, you speak as if we had met at the circus," her husband interposed."i haven't married a mountebank!" "well, they put some stuff on the road," sidneyfeeder explained, not holding much to his joke."you must miss a great many things," said mrs. chew tenderly."i don't see what," mrs. vanderdecken tinkled, "except the fogs and the queen. new york'sgetting more and more like london. it's a

pity—you ought to have known us thirty yearsago." "you're the queen here," said jackson lemon,"but i don't know what you know about thirty years ago.""do you think she doesn't go back?—she goes back to the last century!" cried mrs. chew."i daresay i should have liked that," said lady barb; "but i can't imagine."and she looked at her husband—a look she often had—as if she vaguely wished him todo something. he was not called upon, however, to take anyviolent steps, for mrs. chew presently said, "well, lady barb, good-bye"; mrs. vanderdeckenglared genially and as for excess of meaning at her hostess and addressed a farewell, accompaniedvery audibly with his title, to her host;

and sidney feeder made a joke about steppingon the trains of the ladies' dresses as he accompanied them to the door.mrs. chew had always a great deal to say at the last; she talked till she was in the streetand then she addressed that prospect. but at the end of five minutes jackson lemonwas alone with his wife, to whom he then announced a piece of news. he prefaced it, however,by an inquiry as he came back from the hall. "where's agatha, my dear?""i haven't the least idea. in the streets somewhere, i suppose.""i think you ought to know a little more." "how can i know about things here? i've givenher up. i can do nothing with her. i don't care what she does.""she ought to go back to england," jackson

said after a pause."she ought never to have come." "it was not my proposal, god knows!" he sharplyreturned. "mamma could never know what it really is,"his wife more quietly noted. "no, it hasn't been as yet what your mothersupposed! the man longstraw wants to marry her and has made a formal proposal. i methim half an hour ago in madison avenue, and he asked me to come with him into the columbiaclub. there, in the billiard-room, which to-day is empty, he opened himself—thinking evidentlythat in laying the matter before me he was behaving with extraordinary propriety. hetells me he's dying of love and that she's perfectly willing to go and live in arizona.""so she is," said lady barb.

"and what did you tell him?""i told him i was convinced it would never do and that at any rate i could have nothingto say to it. i told him explicitly in short what i had told him virtually before. i saidwe should send aggie straight back to england, and that if they had the courage they mustthemselves broach the question over there." "when shall you send her back?" asked ladybarb. "immediately—by the very first steamer.""alone, like an american girl?" "don't be rough, barb," jackson replied."i shall easily find some people—lots of them are sailing now.""i must take her myself," lady barb observed in a moment."i brought her out—so i must restore her

to my mother's hands."he had expected this and believed he was prepared for it, but when it came he found his preparationnot complete. he had no answer to make—none at least thatseemed to him to go to the point. during these last weeks it had come over himwith a quiet irresistible unmerciful force that mrs. dexter freer had been right in sayingto him that sunday afternoon in jermyn street, the summer before, that he would find it wasn'tso simple to be an american. such a character was complicated in just themeasure that she had foretold by the difficulty of domesticating any wife at all liberallychosen. the difficulty wasn't dissipated by his havingtaken a high tone about it; it pinched him

from morning till night, it hurt him likea misfitting shoe. his high tone had given him courage when hetook the great step; but he began to perceive that the highest tone in the world couldn'tchange the nature of things. his ears tingled as he inwardly noted thatif the dexter freers, whom he had thought alike abject in their hopes and their fears,had been by ill luck spending the winter in new york, they would have found his predicamentas good fun as they could wish. drop by drop the conviction had entered hismind—the first drop had come in the form of a word from lady agatha—that if his wifeshould return to england she would never again later recross the atlantic.that word from the competent source had been

the touch from the outside at which oftena man's fear crystallises. what she would do, how she would resist—thishe wasn't yet prepared to tell himself; but he felt every time he looked at her that thebeautiful woman he had adored was filled with a dumb insuperable ineradicable purpose. heknew that if she should plant herself firm no power on earth would move her; and herblooming antique beauty and the general loftiness of her breeding came fast to seem to him butthe magnificent expression of a dense patient ponderous power to resist.she wasn't light, she wasn't supple, and after six months of marriage he had made up hismind that she wasn't intelligent—in spite of all which she would elude him.she had married him, she had come into his

fortune and his consideration—for who wasshe after all? he was on occasion so angry as to ask himself, remembering that in englandlady claras and lady florences were as thick as blackberries—but she would have nothingto do, if she could help it, with his country. she had gone in to dinner first in every housein the place, but this hadn't satisfied her. it had been simple to be an american in thegood and easy sense that no one else in new york had made any difficulties; the difficultieshad sprung from the very, the consummate, make of her, which were after all what hehad married her for, thinking they would be a fine temperamental heritage for his brood.so they would, doubtless, in the coming years and after the brood should have appeared;but meanwhile they interfered with the best

heritage of all—the nationality of his possiblechildren. she would do indeed nothing violent; he wastolerably certain of that. she wouldn't return to england without hisconsent; only when she should return it would be once for all.his one possible line, then, was not to take her back—a position replete with difficulties,since he had in a manner given his word; she herself giving none at all beyond the formalpromise murmured at the altar. she had been general, but he had been specific;the settlements he had made were a part of that.his difficulties were such as he couldn't directly face.he must tack in approaching so uncertain a

coast.he said to his wife presently that it would be very inconvenient for him to leave newyork at that moment: she must remember their plans had been laid for a later move.he couldn't think of letting her make the voyage without him, and on the other handthey must pack her sister off without delay. he would therefore make instant inquiry fora chaperon, and he relieved his irritation by cursing the name and every other attributeof herman longstraw. lady barb didn't trouble herself to denouncethis gentleman; her manner was that of having for a long time expected the worst.she simply remarked after having listened to her husband for some minutes in silence:"i'd quite as lief she should marry doctor

feeder!"the day after this he closeted himself for an hour with his sister-in-law, taking greatpains to set forth to her the reasons why she shouldn't marry her californian.jackson was kind, he was affectionate; he kissed her and put his arm round her waist,he reminded her that he and she were the best of friends and that she had always been awfullynice to him: therefore he counted on her. she'd break her mother's heart, she'd deserveher father's curse, and she'd get him, jackson, into a pickle from which no human power mightever disembroil him. lady agatha listened and cried, she returnedhis kiss very affectionately and admitted that her father and mother would never consentto such a marriage; and when he told her that

he had made arrangements that she should sailfor liverpool, with some charming people, the next day but one, she embraced him againand assured him she could never thank him enough for all the trouble he had taken abouther. he flattered himself he had convinced andin some degree comforted her, and he reflected with complacency that even should his wifetake it into her head barb would never get ready to embark for her native land betweena monday and a wednesday. the next morning lady agatha failed to appearat breakfast, though as she usually rose very late her absence excited no immediate alarm.she hadn't rung her bell and was supposed still to be sleeping. but she had never yetslept later than mid-day; and as this hour

approached her sister went to her room.lady barb then discovered that she had left the house at seven o'clock in the morningand had gone to meet mr. longstraw at a neighbouring corner.a little note on the table explained it very succinctly, and put beyond the power of thejackson lemons to doubt that by the time this news reached them their wayward sister hadbeen united to the man of her preference as closely as the laws of the state of new yorkcould bind her. her little note set forth that as she knewshe should never be permitted to marry him she had resolved to marry him without permission,and that directly after the ceremony, which would be of the simplest kind, they were totake a train for the far west.

our record is concerned only with the remoteconsequences of this affair, which made of course a great deal of trouble for poor jackson.he pursued the fugitives to remote rocky fastnesses and finally overtook them in california; buthe hadn't the boldness to propose to them to separate, for he promptly made out thatherman longstraw was at least as well married as himself.lady agatha was already popular in the new states, where the history of her elopement,emblazoned in enormous capitals, was circulated in a thousand newspapers.this question of the newspapers had been for our troubled friend one of the most definiteresults of his sister-in-law's coup de tãªte. his first thought had been of the public printsand his first exclamation a prayer that they

shouldn't get hold of the story.they had, however, got hold of it with a myriad wildly-waved hands and were scattering itbroadcast over the world. lady barb never caught them in the act—shesucceeded perfectly in not seeing what she needn't; but an affectionate friend of thefamily, travelling at that time in the united states, made a parcel of some of the leadingjournals, and sent them to lord canterville. this missive elicited from her ladyship aletter, addressed to her son-in-law, which shook the young man's position to the base.the phials of a rank vulgarity had been opened on the house of canterville, and the noblematron demanded that in compensation for the affronts and injuries heaped upon her family,and bereaved and dishonoured as she was, she

should at least be allowed to look on theface of her second daughter. "i suppose you'll not, for very pity, be deafto such a prayer as that," said lady barb; and though loth to record a second act ofweakness on the part of a man with pretensions to be strong, i may not disguise the factthat poor jackson, who blushed dreadfully over the newspapers and felt afresh as heread them the force of mrs. freer's terrible axiom, poor jackson paid a visit to the officeof the cunarders. he said to himself later on that it was thenewspapers that had done it; he couldn't decently appear to be on their side: they made it sohard to deny that the country was impossible at a time when one was in need of all one'sarguments.

lady barb, before sailing, definitely refusedto mention any week or month as the date of their prearranged return to new york.very many weeks and months have elapsed since then, and she gives no sign of coming back.she will never fix a date. she is much missed by mrs. vanderdecken, whostill alludes to her—still says the line of the shoulders was superb; putting the statementpensively in the past tense. lady beauchemin and lady marmaduke are muchdisconcerted; the international project has not, in their view, received an impetus.jackson lemon has a house in london and he rides in the park with his wife, who is asbeautiful as the day and who a year ago presented him with a little girl exhibiting featuresthat he already scans for the look of race—whether

in hope or in fear to-day is more than mymuse has revealed. he has occasional scenes with lady barb duringwhich the look of race is very clear in her own countenance; but they never terminatein a visit to the cunarders. he's exceedingly restless and is constantlycrossing to the continent; but he returns with a certain abruptness, for he hates meetingthe dexter freers, who seem to pervade the more comfortable parts of europe.he dodges them in every town. sidney feeder feels very badly about him;it's months since jackson has sent him any "results."the excellent fellow goes very often, in a consolatory spirit, to see mrs. lemon, buthas not yet been able to answer her standing

question—"why that girl more than another?"lady agatha longstraw and her husband arrived a year ago in england, and mr. longstraw'spersonality had immense success during the last london season.it's not exactly known what they live on, though perfectly known that he's looking forsomething to do. meanwhile it's as good as known that theirreally quite responsible brother-in-law supports them. end of chapter viend of lady barbarina by henry james

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