SONS OF FIRE A Novel By Mary Elizabeth Braddon THE AUTHOR OF "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," "VIXEN," "ISHMAEL," ETC. _IN THREE VOLUMES_ VOL. II. LONDON SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO. LIMITED STATIONERS' HALL COURT [_All rights reserved_] LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. I. FATE INTERVENES II. "BEFORE THE NIGHT BE FALLEN ACROSS THY WAY" III. WHILE LEAVES WERE FALLING IV. "LET NO MAN LIVE AS I HAVE LIVED" V. "CHANCE CANNOT CHANGE MY LOVE, NOR TIME IMPAIR" VI. AT EVENSONG VII. "THE DEAD MAN TOUCH'D ME FROM THE PAST" VIII. "WHAT WAS A SPECK EXPANDS INTO A STAR" IX. "A WHITE STAR MADE OF MEMORY LONG AGO" X. "AND THAT UNREST WHICH MEN MISCALL DELIGHT" XI. "WHO KNOWS WHY LOVE BEGINS?" XII. "THAT WAY MADNESS LIES" SONS OF FIRE. CHAPTER I. FATE INTERVENES. The return of Geoffrey Wornock made no essential difference in the lives of the lovers. Suzette continued her organ practice; Allan continued his visits to the Manor House; and Suzette and Allan were much oftener Mrs. Wornock's companions than her son, whose restless temper did not allow of his remaining long in any one place, and for whom monotony of any kind was intolerable. He stayed in London for a week buying horses, and having brought home a string of four, every one supposed to be matchless, he began hunting with the vigour of a man whose appetite for that British sport had only been sharpened by paper-chases and polo in the tropics. Not content with the South Sarum, he travelled up and down the line, hunted with the Vine from Basingstoke, and with the H. H. from Winchester. He was up and away in the grey November mornings after a seven-o'clock breakfast, and seldom home in time for an eight-o'clock dinner. On the days when there was no hunting to be had, he flung himself into the delights of the music-room with all the ardour of a musical fanatic, and Allan and Suzette were content to listen in meek astonishment to performances which were far above the drawing-room amateur, although marked by certain imperfections and carelessnesses which seemed inevitable in a player whose ardour was too fitful for the drudgery of daily practice.