Half a Hero | Page 9

high time that Eleanor Scaife was married, and,
from an abstract point of view, this could hardly be denied. Lady
Eynesford took the next step. Eleanor and Coxon would suit one
another to perfection. Hence the invitations to tea, and Lady
Eynesford's considerate withdrawals into the house, or out of sight in
the garden. Of course it was impossible to gauge Eleanor's views at this
early stage, but Lady Eynesford was assured of Mr. Coxon's
gratitude--his bearing left no doubt of it--and she congratulated herself
warmly on the promising and benevolent scheme which she had set
afoot.
Now the danger of encouraging ambitious young men--and this remark
is general in its scope, and not confined at all to one subject-matter--is
that their vaulting imaginations constantly overleap the benevolence of
their patrons. Mr. Coxon would not have been very grateful for
permission to make love to Miss Scaife; he was extremely grateful for
the opportunity of recommending himself to Alicia Derosne. The
Governor's sister--none less--became by degrees his aim and object,
and when Lady Eynesford left him with Miss Scaife, hoping that Alicia

would have the sense not to get in the way, Mr. Coxon's soaring mind
regarded himself as left with Alicia, and he hoped that the necessary
exercise of discretion would be forthcoming from Miss Scaife.
Presently this little comedy revealed itself to Eleanor, and, after an
amused glance at the retreating figure of her misguided friend, she
would bury herself in Tomes on the British Colonies, and abandon
Alicia to the visitor's wiles. A little indignant at the idea of being
"married off" in this fashion, she did not feel it incumbent on her to
open Lady Eynesford's eyes. As for Alicia--Alicia laughed, and thought
that young men were much the same all the world over.
"Tomes," said Eleanor on one occasion, looking up from the first
volume of that author--and perhaps she chose her passage with
malice--"clearly intimates his opinion that the Empire can't hold
together unless the social bonds between England and the colonies are
strengthened."
"Does he, dear?" said Alicia, playing with the pug. "Do look at his
tongue, Mr. Coxon. Isn't it charming?"
"Yes. Listen to this: 'It is on every ground to be regretted that the
divorce between society at home and in the colonies is so complete.
The ties of common interest and personal friendship which, impalpable
though they be, bind nations together more closely than constitutions
and laws, are to a great extent wanting. Even the interchange of visits is
rare; closer connection by intermarriage, in a broad view,
non-existent.'"
"There's a great deal of sense in that," said Coxon.
"Well, Mr. Coxon," laughed Alicia, "you should have thought of it
when you were in England."
Eleanor's eyes had dropped again to Tomes, and Mr. Coxon answered,
in a tone not calculated to disturb the reader,
"I hope it's not altogether too late."

"The choice is so small out here, isn't it? Now, according to Tomes, Mr.
Medland ought to marry a duchess--well, a dowager-duchess--but there
isn't one."
"I should hardly have thought the Premier quite the man for a duchess,"
said Coxon, rather superciliously.
"Well, I like him much better than most dukes I've seen. Why do you
shake your head?"
"I've the greatest respect for Mr. Medland as my leader, but--come,
Miss Derosne, he's hardly--now is he?"
"I like him very much indeed," declared Alicia. "I think he's the most
interesting man I've ever met."
"But thinking a man interesting and thinking him a man one would like
to marry are quite different, surely?" suggested fastidious Mr. Coxon.
"Thinking him interesting and thinking him a man one would be likely
to marry are quite different," corrected Eleanor, emerging from Tomes.
"By the way, who was Mrs. Medland?" asked Alicia.
Coxon hesitated for a moment: Eleanor raised her eyes.
"I believe her name was Benyon," he answered. "I--I know nothing
about her."
"Didn't you know her?"
"No, I was in England, and she died a year after I came back--before I
went into politics at all."
"I wonder if she was nice."
"My dear Alicia, what can it matter?" asked Eleanor.
"If you come to that, Eleanor, most of the things we talk about don't

matter," protested Alicia. "We are not Attorney-Generals, like Mr.
Coxon, whose words are worth--how much?"
"Now, Miss Derosne, you're chaffing me."
"Come and feed the swans," said Alicia, rising.
"What will Mary think?" said Eleanor, settling herself down again to
Tomes. "And why is Alicia so curious about the Medlands?"
It was perhaps natural that Eleanor should be puzzled to answer the
question she put to herself, but in reality the interest Alicia felt
admitted of easy explanation. She had first encountered Medland under
conditions which invested him with all the attraction that a visibly
dominant character exercises