as a matter of fact, no life can be really uneventful. Every day brings its incidents, and, though we know it not, any one of them, even the most commonplace, may be big with fate. What, for instance, can be more ordinary than going to bed and getting up, admiring a landscape or watching a sunset, yet we must all, sooner or later, go to bed and get up for the last time, and take our last view of earth and sky. A casual introduction to a stranger may lead to serious consequences, and a chance meeting in a railway carriage form a turning-point in a man's destiny. But though Balmaine settled down to steady work, and the days went on unmarked by any startling event, his life at Geneva was decidedly interesting. If there had been nothing else he would have found amusing occupation for his leisure in studying the characters of the people he met, and watching the little intrigues and comedies that were always going on about him. At the office there was jealousy between upstairs and down, for the clerks were allowed to canvass for advertisements, and paid a commission of twenty-five per cent. on all they obtained; the sub-editors were not, and this was a sore grievance with Milnthorpe and Delane. Gibson was both able and shrewd; but, as Alfred soon found out, he liked to take things very easy, and makebelieve that he worked desperately hard. Delane, who was full of energy, did more real work in a day than the chief did in a week. "He did not do much before you came," the sub one day observed to Balmaine, "now he does next to nothing." This was quite true. There were at least three days a week on which Gibson did not write a line for the paper-did nothing, in fact, but answer a few letters and look over a few proofs. "Between ourselves," went on Delane, "I don't think it was very 'cute of him to let you come at all; there really isn't work for more than three, and being by far the best paid of the lot, if there should be a change, he is the most likely to have to go. At any rate I should think so." leave them?" asked Alfred, who began to think he had got into rather queer company. "Because I don't want to. The private character of the men and their management of the paper are nothing to me. I do my duty, and that is really all I have to care about; and then Geneva is an uncommonly nice place. I like the life here; and there are other reasons. ,, At this point the young fellow blushed a little, and Balmaine thought of Ida von Schmidt; so, by way of changing the subject, he made an inquiry touching the circulation of the Helvetic News. "You asked me that once before, I think," said Delane drily. "So I did, and got no answer," said Alfred, smiling. "Is it a mystery ?" "Very much so. To be frank, I don't know what it is, and don't want to know." "Why?" "So that I may be under no temptation to tell lies. That is what old Bevis does." "Does he tell lies then ?" "He does not profess to do. I mean he does not know and won't be told anything about the circulation. When anybody asks him he says, in his loftiest manner: That is not in my department, my dear sir, and the circulation varies so much, according to the season, that I should not like to risk telling an untruth by going into details; but I can assure you with the utmost confidence that it is large and influential.' He calls that diplomacy." "And there are people," said Alfred, "who say there is very little difference between diplomacy and artistic lying." He made no further inquiry about the cir culation of the paper. his Milnthorpe was rather an enigma. He did his work, chiefly translating, slowly, but well, had very little to say, and seemed depressed, and nobody knew where he lived. Delane thought he did not like to expose poverty by associating with his equals, for he could not be persuaded to enter a café, and never smoked unless somebody gave him a cigar. Besides his office work, which he did not. find very arduous, Alfred wrought a good deal at home. He did a series of letters for the American editor-to whom Harman so kindly introduced him, a certain Dr. Pilgrim, a tall, spare man, with a white choker, a soft voice, and an unctuous manner of the Pitsburgh Patriot. The Patriot, as the doctor informed him, was a semi-religious, high-toned firstclass paper, circulating among first-class fami lies. He wanted some articles on the graver aspects of Swiss life, on the religious views of the people, the character of their Protestantism, and, above all, on the Old Catholic movement. At the same time the letters, though weighty with facts, were to be lively in style. For as the doctor rightly observed, if newspaper articles be not readable they are of very little use, and to be readable they must be lively. When he asked Alfred if he thought he could write him a few such letters as those he had described, say four or five, the young fellow modestly replied that he thought he could, and would do his best. As for remuneration, the editor of this serious, semi-religious paper remarked, with one of his sweetest smiles, that first-class journals like the Patriot paid twenty dollars an article irrespective of length, "which we don't want, for everybody knows that it is easier to pad out than to boil down." Balmaine, after thanking Dr. Pilgrim "very much," went home rejoicing, and feeling almost as if he had a hundred dollars (five letters at twenty a-piece) in his pocket. He gave several days to reading up the subjects suggested and making inquiries, and a fortnight afterwards forwarded his first letter to the high-toned Patriot. Nor did his good fortune end here. No American journalist could possibly pass through Geneva without calling at the editorial offices of the News, to look over the files and have a talk with the staff. Some of these gentlemen made themselves very much at home, and seemed to consider the sub-editors' room a public lounge and their waste-paper baskets public spittoons. Others were very nice fellows indeed, and one of them, the representative of a Boston daily, Sunday, and bi-weekly, invited Alfred (one of whose articles in the Helvetic had attracted his attention) to contribute an occasional letter "on any darned subject he liked," and assured him that he wrote well enough for the London Times, “ or any other sanguinary paper." With these two strings to his bow Alfred came to the conclusion that it was not necessary to make any offerings to English papers for the present; they might be refused; it would be better to send his communications where they were sure of acceptance. The reception of his first letter by the Pitsburgh Patriot was extremely gratifying. The acting editor (Dr. Pilgrim not having yet reached home) bespoke for it the particular attention of his readers, described the writer as one of the most rising and successful of the younger generation of English journalists, and pro mised them further effusions from his brilliant pen. Alfred sent a copy of the paper to Cora, whom it greatly delighted; it was, moreover, seen by many people at Calder, and made the subject of a few complimentary remarks in the Mercury. Another agreeable incident was the receipt. of a letter from Artful and Higginbottom, inquiring if he still thought he should be able "to find a clue to the mystery that enveloped the fate of the unfortunate Mr. Philip Hardy and his daughter," and offering, on the part of the trustees, "to defray any reasonable charge to which he might be put in prosecuting the investigation which he had so kindly promised to make." This meant that they would pay his travelling expenses, so he should now be able, when he got a holiday, to make the journey across the Alps from which he hoped so much. Everything seemed propitious, and the rupture of his engagement with Lizzie Hardy, which took place about this time, left him almost without a care. Although the affair had once caused him so much concern, he could hardly think of it now without laughing at his simplicity in attributing to a foolish flirtation the character of a solemn betrothal. Shortly after his arrival at Geneva he had received from his sweetheart a long letter, to which he replied in due course, but not being able to make passionate protestations of love he contented himself with descriptions of the country and the people, and of his own doings and experiences. To this, rather to his satisfaction, there came no answer; and then there ensued a long silence which Alfred, whose too tender conscience began to suggest that he was treating the girl badly, was the first to break by a second letter in the style of the first. Lizzie replied in a missive which she meant to be freezing and dignified, but which (after his first surprise) Balmaine found intensely amusing. She could not imagine, she said, what induced him to write to her in the way he had done. It had never occurred to her to consider the innocent familiarities which at one time she had allowed him as implying an engagement, even if their relative positions had not rendered such a thing impossible, and she desired that the correspondence might cease with the present communication. "Innocent familiarities! our relative positions! by Jove, that's good," soliloquised Balmaine, and though he was glad to be set free, it was some alloy to his satisfaction that Saintly Sam's daughter had so completely befooled him. When he informed Cora what had come to unfrosted with white, he looked younger than pass, she congratulated him warmly on what his years. He was dressed with great neatshe called his escape. "I always thought Missness, wore the badge of some military order, Hardy was a flirt," she said, "and as you are and, as Balmaine subsequently heard, had a no longer here to flirt with her she has right to call himself "Chevalier." probably found a swain who can. The next time you are engaged, I hope it will be with somebody worthy of your love and my friendship; but for Heaven's sake do not venture on such a step until you are rich enough to keep a wife." CHAPTER XXI.-COLONEL BEVIS. So soon as Balmaine had got fairly into harness Gibson took his holiday. He had worked so hard during the previous twelvemonth, he said, that a period of relaxation was absolutely necessary for his health. Before going away he gave precise instructions about the editing of the paper. All the leaders were to be written by Alfred, and none were to touch on English politics. With this exception, he was to have full scope. "And if you are ever pressed for time or do not see your way to a subject," added the chief, you can always get one of the least read of English or American papers. The Saturday Sentinel, for instance, is a capital paper to quarry from. Its sub-leaders are often very good, and there are always one or two that by running through with a wet pen you can make to look as if they were written purposely for the Helvetic." This gentleman was Colonel Bevis, and Mayo, after introducing them to each other, mentioned that the Colonel wanted a special article written, and asked Alfred to take his instructions and put it into shape for the printer. "It is about Rothenkirschen, Mr. Balmaine," said the Colonel very graciously, "the new place in the Oberland, you know. They have found some dirty water, built a Kursaal and several hotels, and want to attract English and American visitors. I have taken a very good advertisement from them on condition that we reciprocate by doing a little reclame, and give a special article about the place. And I can personally testify that it is most charmingly situated on that score you can hardly exaggerate-and several highly respectable doctors are ready to take oath that the mineral waters are good for every ill that flesh is heir to. You will find all the facts in this newspaper cutting-you read German, of course-and a few observations of my own in this paper. Do you think you can shape these materials into a readable article? I shall be very much obliged if you can, because I promised the people, you know." Alfred modestly replied that he thought Alfred answered that he would do his best, he would rather trust to his own unaided re- and asked the Colonel if he would like to sources; and when Gibson returned from his see a proof of the article in order to make holiday-making he congratulated the young sure that it was quite to his mind. The fellow handsomely on the diligence and ability Colonel said, "Very much," and asked Alwith which he had discharged his duties. fred to be good enough to send the proof to Another success scored to Alfred was the re-him at the Hotel de la Grande Bretagne, production of one of his articles by a Lon- where he should be visible at five P.M. don paper. Delane said this was a feather in his cap. Mayo came specially into the editor's-room to inquire by whom it had been written, and said a few gracious words to Balmaine on the occasion; for incidents like this were not alone flattering to the amour propre of all connected with the Helvetic News, they made the paper more widely known, and so helped canvassers in their quest for advertisements. On entering the sub-editors' room one morning, Alfred was informed that Mr. Mayo wanted to see him down-stairs. In the managers' room was a fine soldierly looking man, whose age might be from forty-four to fifty, but by reason of the uprightness of his carriage, the freshness of his complexion, and the lightness of his hair and moustache as yet It was the first time Balmaine had done any puffing, and he hoped the description of Rothenkirschen, given in the German paper, was true, for in that case the earthly paradise was only about a hundred miles from Geneva. The magnificent scenery, the fine climate, and the mountain air alone made the place worth a visit, while the charming grounds of the Kursaal, morning music, daily excursions, evening concerts, and congenial society rendered life in that favoured spot beyond expression delightful, and by drinking plentifully of the waters you might live for ever and never be ill. Alfred did not say quite all this, neither did he set forth all the maladies for which a sojourn at Rothenkirschen was recommended as a specific; nevertheless he produced a really brilliant article, and one that could hardly fail to prove satisfactory to all concerned. As he wanted to cultivate Bevis's acquaintance he took the proof to him instead of sending it. "Thank you very much, Mr. Balmaine," said the Colonel, whom he found smoking a cigarette in the corridor of the Bretagne; "it is very kind of you to take so much trouble, and you add to the favour by being so prompt. Promptitude in the eyes of an old soldier is a high quality. This will do very well-very well indeed. In the whole of Switzerland there is no spot on which nature has showered so many blessings as the valley and village of Rothenkirschen. Whilst its great altitude insures the purity of its invigorating air, the huge mass of mountains to the north and east shelters it from every inclement wind, and renders the climate as balmy and enjoyable as that of the land in which it seemed always afternoon. The thermal establishment is begirt with fragrant fir-trees, and the gleaming glacier-born river, which rushes in tumultuous route past its walls, flows between fair gardens and green meadows into the Kirschen lake, a mile farther on.' Really, Mr. Balmaine, nothing could be better. I do not see how anybody can help going to Rothenkirschen after reading this description, and, better still, it will be sure to bring us another advertisement. There is only one thing wanting." "And that is-" "The name of the resident physician, Dr. Schlachtermann. Don't you think you could bring it in somehow? It would please him immensely, and make the advertisement quite sure; and he is really a clever fellow. He gave me a prescription that has quite cured my sciatica 'pon my word he did." "How would this do?" said Alfred, taking out his pencil. "Put it in after 'patients,' you know. The sentence will now read thus: The invaluable qualities of the mineral waters have been proved, as well by chemical analysis as by the testimony of hundreds of patients, who, under the skilful treatment of Dr. Schlachtermann, one of the most eminent of Swiss bath physicians, have recovered health and strength, even when recovery had been deemed hopeless,' &c., &c." "Just the thing, Mr. Balmaine, just the thing. You understand exactly what I want. A few articles like that will increase our advertisements by twenty thousand francs. I have often suggested to Mayo that he should have somebody on the staff with a knowledge of German, and able to write an attractive article. Your help will be in valuable. 66 I shall have to apply to you again. Will that appear to-morrow?" Certainly," said Alfred, putting the proof in his pocket, and making as if he meant to go. "Must you go already?" said the Colonel, taking his hand. "I know you are a busy man, but if you can stay and have dinner with me I shall be very glad. It will be ready in half an hour, and I will release you as soon afterwards as you like." Alfred accepted the invitation; it was what he wanted, and he did not find it difficult to lead the conversation to the subject of the Colonel's adventurous life, on which he was as loquacious as veterans are wont to be, yet at the same time very entertaining. CHAP. XXII. BALMAINE LEARNS SOMETHING. COLONEL BEVIS continued his reminiscences at great length, but after he had run on for some time Balmaine took advantage of a pause to inquire how he had become connected with the Italian revolutionary movement. "Easily enough," was the answer; "after the Crimean war was over, I wanted something to do, chance took me to Italy, and there I became acquainted with the chiefs of the party. They employed me in various capacities. I took service with Garibaldi, and fought through the campaign of 1860." "You were one of the famous thousand of Marsala, then?" Yes," said the Colonel drily, lighting another cigarette, "I was one of the thousand of Marsala ; the Chief made me a Colonel, and on one occasion I commanded a brigade." "You mean Garibaldi; what a fine fellow he is!" exclaimed Balmaine enthusiastically. "And you were really a friend of his, Colonel?" more "I had that honour," replied the Colonel, rather coolly, "and I think I was friendly to him than he was to me." "Do you mean that he did not treat you well? no, that is impossible." "I do mean it. If it had not been for me he would have lost one of the most important battles of the campaign. I landed in Naples in command of reinforcements from Sicily. My instructions were to hasten to the front as quickly as possible, an engagement being momentarily expected. But we were short of supplies, and quite without money. My men wanted shoes, bread, and powder. To requisition the inhabitants would have been the worst possible policy; it might have turned them against us. What was I to do? I had, fortunately, the reputation of being a rich Englishman, so I ordered what I wanted, and paid for it in drafts on my London bankers, and reached the front just in time to turn the tide of battle. If we had been only an hour later it might have gone ill with the cause, for the Chief was over-matched and hard pressed." "And were the drafts paid?" 'Ultimately they were, of course, but if we had not won they would not have been. What I complain of Garibaldi for is that he did so little for his followers. He told the King that he wanted nothing for himself, yet he might easily have stipulated something for us either moderate pensions or positions in the Italian army. As it was, we were just turned adrift with next to nothing. I fought in every battle, and was twice wounded, yet all they gave me was, the Order of the Iron Crown, and about five pounds a year! And here I am, an old soldier, one of the thousand of Marsala, drumming for advertisements." "And you drum as well as you fight, I believe, Colonel Bevis. People say you are the best canvasser in Europe, and that is something to be proud of. You must have met a great many people in your wanderings -did you ever meet in Italy, or elsewhere, an Englishman of the name of Hardy?" "Hardy, Hardy!" said the Colonel thoughtfully. "As you say, I have met very many people in my life, so many, that a name may easily slip my memory. Still, my memory is very good. Hardy, Hardy! Do you mean Philip Hardy ?" "Yes, I mean Philip Hardy!" answered Balmaine eagerly; he felt as if he were on the track of a discovery. "Did you know him?" "No, but I am very anxious to find out something about him, and if you can help me I shall feel greatly obliged!" "He was engaged in the revolutionary movement, wasn't he?" "Yes, and disappeared about ten years ago!" "Did he?" said Bevis absently. "Yes, I knew Philip Hardy; and, though I did not meet him often, I liked him well. He married an Italian wife and had a little girl, I think!" "That is just the man!" exclaimed Alfred excitedly. "But he did not always go under the name of Hardy. He had reasons, reasons of state let us say, for taking an alias occasionally. Is that another characteristic ?" "It is, it is. The Philip Hardy you know XXVIII-20 is the Philip Hardy I want to find, or, at any rate, a clue to his fate! "Is he a relative of yours, Mr. Balmaine?" No, he has few relations, I think; but a friend of mine, at Calder, is very anxious to find out what has become of him, and I was asked by some people in London to make inquiries. They want to have proof of his death-if he be dead!" "Property, I suppose?" "Yes, there is some property. And I have heard so much about the case, that I would like, as a matter of personal feeling, and for the gratification of a legitimate curiosity, to discover a clue to the mystery!" "I think I understand. But what about the little girl? I remember seeing her at Pallanza, and a pretty little thing she was." "She has disappeared too!" "By disappearing, you mean that nothing has been heard of her?" "Exactly; nothing has been heard of her since old Mr. Hardy's death, ten years ago! "And for more than that time Philip Hardy has been out of my mind. So many things happen nowadays, that out of sight is literally out of mind. Yet, now, when I think of it, I have an indistinct recollection of hearing that something had happened to Hardy-or was it that he had gone to England, he and his daughter?" Balmaine shook his head. "Andrea Martino. He kept the Hotel Martino at Locarno, but that was only a blind. His house was really a rendezvous for revolutionists, and after 1866 he gave it up. But he knew everybody engaged in the revolutionary movement, and if anything happened to any of us he was sure to hear of it. Yes, I am certain that Martino could tell you what became of Hardy." "Can you give me his address, Colonel ?" 'Unfortunately, I cannot. I have not seen him for two or three years. I met him accidentally at Naples, but though I did not ask him where he was living, I know he is not living there. I can get to know, though." "If you would kindly do so, Colonel Bevis, I should be very much obliged," Alfred said earnestly. "You will have to write to somebody, I suppose.' |