Father Stafford | Page 8

hardly tell her. There are some men who can make
no terms with the body. Does that sound very mediæval? I mean men
who, unless they are to yield utterly to pleasure, must have no dealings
with it."
"You boycott pleasure for fear of being too fond of it?"
"Yes; I don't lay down that rule for everybody. For me it is the right
and only one."
"You think it right for a good many people, though?"
"Well, you know, the many-headed beast is strong."
"For me?"
"Wait till I get at you from the pulpit."
"No; tell me now."
"Honestly?"
"Of course! I take that for granted."
"Well, then, old fellow," said he, laying a hand on Eugene's arm, with a
slight gesture of caress not unusual with him, "in candor and without
unkindness, yes!"
"I could never do it," said Eugene.
"Perhaps not--or, at least, not yet."
"Too late or too early, is it?"
"It may be so, but I will not say so."
"You know I think you're all wrong?"

"I know."
"You will fail."
"God forbid! but if he pleases--"
"After all, what are meat, wine, and--and so on for?"
"That argument is beneath you, Eugene."
"So it is. I beg your pardon. I might as well ask what the hangman is for
if nobody is to be hanged. However, I'm determined that you shall
enjoy yourself for a week here, whether you like it or not."
Stafford smiled gently and bade him good-night. A moment later Bob
Territon emerged from the open windows of the billiard-room.
"Of all dull dogs, Haddington's the worst; however, I've won five
pound of him! Hist! Is the Father here?"
"I am glad to say he is not."
"Oh! Have you squared it with Miss Kate? I saw something was up."
"Miss Bernard's heart, Bob, and mine again beat as one."
"What was it particularly about?"
"An immaterial matter."
"I say, did you see the Father and Claudia?"
"No. What do you mean?"
"Gammon! I tell you what, Eugene, if Claudia really puts her back into
it, I wouldn't give much for that vow of celibacy."
"Bob," said Eugene, "you don't know Stafford; and your expression
about your sister is--well, shall I say lacking in refinement?"

"Haddington didn't like it."
"Damn Haddington, and you too!" said Eugene impatiently, walking
away.
Bob looked after him with a chuckle, and exclaimed enigmatically to
the silent air, "Six to four, t. and o."
CHAPTER III.
Father Stafford changes his Habits, and Mr. Haddington his Views.
For sheer placid enjoyment and pleasantness of living, there is nothing
like a sojourn in a well-appointed country house, peopled by
well-assorted guests. The guests at Millstead Manor were not perhaps
particularly well-assorted; but nevertheless the hours passed by in a
round of quiet delights, and the long summer days seemed in no wise
tedious. The Bishop and Mrs. Bartlett had reluctantly gone to open the
bazaar, and Miss Chambers went with them, but otherwise the party
was unchanged; for Morewood, who had come originally only for two
days, had begged leave to stay, received it on condition of showing due
respect to everybody's prejudices, telegraphed for his materials, and
was fitfully busy making sketches, not of Lady Claudia, to her
undisguised annoyance, but of Stafford, with whose face he had been
wonderfully struck. Stafford himself was the only one of the party,
besides his artistic tormentor, who had not abandoned himself to the
charms of idleness. His great work was understood to make rapid
progress between six in the morning, when he always rose, and
half-past nine, when the party assembled at breakfast; and he was also
busy in writing a reply to a daring person who had recently asserted in
print that on the whole the less said about the Council of Chalcedon the
better.
"The Pope's wild about it!" reported Bob Territon to the usual
after-breakfast group on the lawn: "says the beggar's impudence licks
him."
"He shall not work any more," exclaimed Claudia, darting into the

house, whence she presently emerged, followed by Stafford, who
resignedly sat himself down with them.
Such forcible interruptions of his studies were by no means uncommon.
Eugene, however, who was of an observant turn, noticed--and
wondered if others did--that the raids on his seclusion were much more
apt to be successful when Claudia headed them than under other
auspices. The fact troubled him, not only from certain unworthy
feelings which he did his best to suppress, but also because he saw
nothing but harm to be possible from any close rapprochement between
Claudia and Stafford. Kate, on the contrary, seemed to him to have set
herself the task of throwing them together; with what motive he could
not understand, unless it were the recollection of his ill-fated "Claudia."
He did not