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diff --git a/13453-h/13453-h.htm b/13453-h/13453-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abe3fdb --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/13453-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15638 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Testing of Diana Mallory, by Mrs. Humphry Ward</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + blockquote {text-align: justify; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + IMG { + BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; + BORDER-TOP: 0px; + BORDER-LEFT: 0px; + BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px } + .loc { TEXT-ALIGN: right; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + .ctr { TEXT-ALIGN: center } + .rgt { float: right; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: -5%; + margin-right: 0%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + .lft { float: left; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 0%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + pre {font-size: 8pt; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13453 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Testing of Diana Mallory, by Mrs. Humphry +Ward, Illustrated by W. Hatherell</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<a name="image-001.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-001.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-001.jpg" width="44%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"There she waited while the dawn stole upon the night"</b></p> +<br> +<br> +<h1>The Testing of<br> +Diana Mallory</h1> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>MRS. HUMPHRY WARD</h2> +<h4>ILLUSTRATED BY<br> +W. HATHERELL, R.I.</h4> +<br> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/image-002.png" width="20%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<h3>1908</h3> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr align="center"> +<th colspan="3">BOOKS BY</th> +</tr> +<tr align="center"> +<th colspan="3">MRS. HUMPHRY WARD</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE TESTING OF DIANA MALLORY. Ill'd</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">$1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER. Illustrated</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> Two volume edition</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">3.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE MARRIAGE OF WILLIAM ASHE. Ill'd</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> Two volume Autograph edition</td> +<td>net</td> +<td align="right">4.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>FENWICK'S CAREER. Illustrated</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> De Luxe edition, two volumes</td> +<td>net</td> +<td align="right">5.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>ELEANOR</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>LIFE OF W.T. ARNOLD</td> +<td>net</td> +<td align="right">1.50</td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<center>TO<br> +MY KIND HOSTS BEYOND THE ATLANTIC<br> +FROM<br> +A GRATEFUL TRAVELLER<br> +<br> +JULY, 1908</center> +<br> +<br> +<center>CONTENTS<br> +<a href="#Part_I">Part I</a><br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_II">2</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_III">3</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">4</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_V">5</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">6</a>]<br> +<a href="#Part_II">Part II</a><br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">7</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">8</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">9</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_X">10</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">11</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">12</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">13</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XIV">14</a>]<br> +<a href="#Part_III">Part III</a><br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">15</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">16</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">17</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">18</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">19</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">20</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">21</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">22</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">23</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXIV">24</a>]</center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>Illustrations</h2> +<br> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td>"THERE SHE WAITED WHILE THE DAWN STOLE UPON THE NIGHT"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-001.jpg">Frontispiece</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"THE MAN'S PULSES LEAPED ANEW"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-098.jpg">98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"YOU NEEDN'T BE CROSS WITH ME, DIANA"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-174.jpg">174</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"'DEAR LADY,' HE SAID, GENTLY, 'I THINK YOU OUGHT TO GIVE +WAY!'"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-256.jpg">256</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"ALICIA, UPRIGHT IN HER CORNER--OLIVER, DEEP IN HIS +ARMCHAIR"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-332.jpg">332</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"SIR JAMES PLAYED DIANA'S GAME WITH PERFECT DISCRETION"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-462.jpg">462</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"SIR JAMES MADE HIMSELF DELIGHTFUL TO THEM"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-492.jpg">492</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"ROUGHSEDGE STOOD NEAR, RELUCTANTLY WAITING"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#image-514.jpg">514</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="Part_I"></a>Part I</h2> +<blockquote><i>"Action is transitory--a step, a blow,<br> +The motion of a muscle--this way or that--<br> +'Tis done, and in the after-vacancy<br> +We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed:<br> +Suffering is permanent, obscure, and dark,<br> +And shares the nature of infinity</i>."<br> + --THE +BORDERERS.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>The Testing of Diana Mallory</h2> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> +<p>The clock in the tower of the village church had just struck the +quarter. In the southeast a pale dawn light was beginning to show +above the curving hollow of the down wherein the village lay +enfolded; but the face of the down itself was still in darkness. +Farther to the south, in a stretch of clear night sky hardly +touched by the mounting dawn, Venus shone enthroned, so large and +brilliant, so near to earth and the spectator, that she held, she +pervaded the whole dusky scene, the shadowed fields and wintry +woods, as though she were their very soul and voice.</p> +<p>"The Star of Bethlehem!--and Christmas Day!"</p> +<p>Diana Mallory had just drawn back the curtain of her bedroom. +Her voice, as she murmured the words, was full of a joyous delight; +eagerness and yearning expressed themselves in her bending +attitude, her parted lips and eyes intent upon the star.</p> +<p>The panelled room behind her was dimly lit by a solitary candle, +just kindled. The faint dawn in front, the flickering candle-light +behind, illumined Diana's tall figure, wrapped in a white +dressing-gown, her small head and slender neck, the tumbling masses +of her dark hair, and the hand holding the curtain. It was a kind +and poetic light; but her youth and grace needed no softening.</p> +<p>After the striking of the quarter, the church bell began to +ring, with a gentle, yet insistent note which gradually filled the +hollows of the village, and echoed along the side of the down. Once +or twice the sound was effaced by the rush and roar of a distant +train; and once the call of an owl from a wood, a call melancholy +and prolonged, was raised as though in rivalry. But the bell held +Diana's strained ear throughout its course, till its mild clangor +passed into the deeper note of the clock striking the hour, and +then all sounds alike died into a profound yet listening +silence.</p> +<p>"Eight o'clock! That was for early service," she thought; and +there flashed into her mind an image of the old parish church, +dimly lit for the Christmas Eucharist, its walls and pillars +decorated with ivy and holly, yet austere and cold through all its +adornings, with its bare walls and pale windows. She shivered a +little, for her youth had been accustomed to churches all color and +lights and furnishings--churches of another type and faith. But +instantly some warm leaping instinct met the shrinking, and +overpowered it. She smote her hands together.</p> +<p>"England!--England!--my own, own country!"</p> +<p>She dropped upon the window-seat half laughing, yet the tears in +her eyes. And there, with her face pressed against the glass, she +waited while the dawn stole upon the night, while in the park the +trees emerged upon the grass white with rime, while on the face of +the down thickets and paths became slowly visible, while the first +wreaths of smoke began to curl and hover in the frosty air.</p> +<p>Suddenly, on a path which climbed the hill-side till it was lost +in the beech wood which crowned the summit, she saw a flock of +sheep, and behind them a shepherd boy running from side to side. At +the sight, her eyes kindled again. "Nothing changes," she thought, +"in this country life!" On the morning of Charles I.'s +execution--in the winters and springs when Elizabeth was +Queen--while Becket lay dead on Canterbury steps--when Harold was +on his way to Senlac--that hill, that path were there--sheep were +climbing it, and shepherds were herding them. "It has been so since +England began--it will be so when I am dead. We are only shadows +that pass. But England lives always--always--and shall live!"</p> +<p>And still, in a trance of feeling, she feasted her eyes on the +quiet country scene.</p> +<p>The old house which Diana Mallory had just begun to inhabit +stood upon an upland, but it was an upland so surrounded by hills +to north and east and south that it seemed rather a close-girt +valley, leaned over and sheltered by the downs. Pastures studded +with trees sloped away from the house on all sides; the village was +hidden from it by boundary woods; only the church tower emerged. +From the deep oriel window where she sat Diana could see a +projecting wing of the house itself, its mellowed red brick, its +Jacobean windows and roof. She could see also a corner of the moat +with its running stream, a moat much older than the building it +encircled, and beneath her eyes lay a small formal garden planned +in the days of John Evelyn--with its fountain and its sundial, and +its beds in arabesque. The cold light of December lay upon it all; +there was no special beauty in the landscape, and no magnificence +in the house or its surroundings. But every detail of what she saw +pleased the girl's taste, and satisfied her heart. All the while +she was comparing it with other scenes and another landscape, amid +which she had lived till now--a monotonous blue sea, mountains +scorched and crumbled by the sun, dry palms in hot gardens, roads +choked with dust and tormented with a plague of motor-cars, white +villas crowded among high walls, a wilderness of hotels, and +everywhere a chattering unlovely crowd.</p> +<p>"Thank goodness!--that's done with," she thought--only to fall +into a sudden remorse. "Papa--papa!--if you were only here +too!"</p> +<p>She pressed her hands to her eyes, which were moist with sudden +tears. But the happiness in her heart overcame the pang, sharp and +real as it was. Oh! how blessed to have done with the Riviera, and +its hybrid empty life, for good and all!--how blessed even, to have +done with the Alps and Italy!--how blessed, above all, to have come +<i>home!</i>--home into the heart of this English land--warm +mother-heart, into which she, stranger and orphan, might creep and +be at rest.</p> +<p>The eloquence of her own thoughts possessed her. They flowed on +in a warm, mute rhetoric, till suddenly the Comic Spirit was there, +and patriotic rapture began to see itself. She, the wanderer, the +exile, what did she know of England--or England of her? What did +she know of this village even, this valley in which she had pitched +her tent? She had taken an old house, because it had pleased her +fancy, because it had Tudor gables, pretty panelling, and a +sundial. But what natural link had she with it, or with these +peasants and countrymen? She had no true roots here. What she had +done was mere whim and caprice. She was an alien, like anybody +else--like the new men and prowling millionaires, who bought old +English properties, moved thereto by a feeling which was none the +less snobbish because it was also sentimental.</p> +<p>She drew herself up--rebelling hotly--yet not seeing how to +disentangle herself from these associates. And she was still +struggling to put herself back in the romantic mood, and to see +herself and her experiment anew in the romantic light, when her +maid knocked at the door, and distraction entered with letters, and +a cup of tea.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>An hour later Miss Mallory left her room behind her, and went +tripping down the broad oak staircase of Beechcote Manor.</p> +<p>By this time romance was uppermost again, and +self-congratulation. She was young--just twenty-two; she was--she +knew it--agreeable to look upon; she had as much money as any +reasonable woman need want; she had already seen a great deal of +the world outside England; and she had fallen headlong in love with +this charming old house, and had now, in spite of various +difficulties, managed to possess herself of it, and plant her life +in it. Full of ghosts it might be; but <i>she</i> was its living +mistress henceforth; nor was it either ridiculous or snobbish that +she should love it and exult in it--quite the contrary. And she +paused on the slippery stairs, to admire the old panelled hall +below, the play of wintry sunlight on the oaken surfaces she +herself had rescued from desecrating paint, and the effect of some +old Persian rugs, which had only arrived from London the night +before, on the dark polished boards. For Diana, there were two joys +connected with the old house: the joy of entering in, a stranger +and conqueror, on its guarded and matured beauty, and the joy of +adding to that beauty by a deft modernness. Very deft, and tender, +and skilful it must be. But no one could say that time-worn Persian +rugs, with their iridescent blue and greens and rose reds--or old +Italian damask and cut-velvet from Genoa, or Florence, or +Venice--were out of harmony with the charming Jacobean rooms. It +was the horrible furniture of the Vavasours, the ancestral +possessors of the place, which had been an offence and a +disfigurement. In moving it out and replacing it, Diana felt that +she had become the spiritual child of the old house, in spite of +her alien blood. There is a kinship not of the flesh; and it +thrilled all through her.</p> +<p>But just as her pause of daily homage to the place in which she +found herself was over, and she was about to run down the remaining +stairs to the dining-room, a new thought delayed her for a moment +by the staircase window--the thought of a lady who would no doubt +be waiting for her at the breakfast-table.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood, Miss Mallory's new chaperon and companion, had +arrived the night before, on Christmas Eve. She had appeared just +in time for dinner, and the two ladies had spent the evening +together. Diana's first impressions had been pleasant--yes, +certainly, pleasant; though Mrs. Colwood had been shy, and Diana +still more so. There could be no question but that Mrs. Colwood was +refined, intelligent, and attractive. Her gentle, almost childish +looks appealed for her. So did her deep black, and the story which +explained it. Diana had heard of her from a friend in Rome, where +Mrs. Colwood's husband, a young Indian Civil servant, had died of +fever and lung mischief, on his way to England for a long sick +leave and where the little widow had touched the hearts of all who +came in contact with her.</p> +<p>Diana thought, with one of her ready compunctions, that she had +not been expansive enough the night before. She ran down-stairs, +determined to make Mrs. Colwood feel at home at once.</p> +<p>When she entered the dining-room the new companion was standing +beside the window looking out upon the formal garden and the lawn +beyond it. Her attitude was a little drooping, and as she turned to +greet her hostess and employer, Diana's quick eyes seemed to +perceive a trace of recent tears on the small face. The girl was +deeply touched, though she made no sign. Poor little thing! A +widow, and childless, in a strange place.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood, however, showed no further melancholy. She was +full of admiration for the beauty of the frosty morning, the trees +touched with rime, the browns and purples of the distant woods. She +spoke shyly, but winningly, of the comfort of her room, and the +thoughtfulness with which Miss Mallory had arranged it; she could +not say enough of the picturesqueness of the house. Yet there was +nothing fulsome in her praise. She had the gift which makes the +saying of sweet and flattering things appear the merest simplicity. +They escaped her whether she would or no--that at least was the +impression; and Diana found it agreeable. So agreeable that before +they had been ten minutes at table Miss Mallory, in response, was +conscious on her own part of an unusually strong wish to please her +new companion--to make a good effect. Diana, indeed, was naturally +governed by the wish to please. She desired above all things to be +liked--that is, if she could not be loved. Mrs. Colwood brought +with her a warm and favoring atmosphere. Diana unfolded.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In the course of this first exploratory conversation, it +appeared that the two ladies had many experiences in common. Mrs. +Colwood had been two years, her two short years of married life, in +India; Diana had travelled there with her father. Also, as a girl, +Mrs. Colwood had spent a winter at Cannes, and another at Santa +Margherita. Diana expressed with vehemence her weariness of the +Riviera; but the fact that Mrs. Colwood differed from her led to +all the more conversation.</p> +<p>"My father would never come home," sighed Diana. "He hated the +English climate, even in summer. Every year I used to beg him to +let us go to England. But he never would. We lived abroad, first, I +suppose, for his health, and then--I can't explain it. Perhaps he +thought he had been so long away he would find no old friends left. +And indeed so many of them had died. But whenever I talked of it he +began to look old and ill. So I never could press it--never!"</p> +<p>The girl's voice fell to a lower note--musical, and full of +memory. Mrs. Colwood noticed the quality of it.</p> +<p>"Of course if my mother had lived," said Diana, in the same +tone, "it would have been different."</p> +<p>"But she died when you were a child?"</p> +<p>"Eighteen years ago. I can just remember it. We were in London +then. Afterwards father took me abroad, and we never came back. Oh! +the waste of all those years!"</p> +<p>"Waste?" Mrs. Colwood probed the phrase a little. Diana +insisted, first with warmth, and then with an eloquence that +startled her companion, that for an Englishwoman to be brought up +outside England, away from country and countrymen, was to waste and +forego a hundred precious things that might have been gathered up. +"I used to be ashamed when I talked to English people. Not that we +saw many. We lived for years and years at a little villa near +Rapallo, and in the summer we used to go up into the mountains, +away from everybody. But after we came back from a long tour, we +lived for a time at a hotel in Mentone--our own little house was +let--and I used to talk to people there--though papa never liked +making friends. And I made ridiculous mistakes about English +things--and they'd laugh. But one can't know--unless one has +<i>lived</i>--has breathed in a country, from one's birth. That's +what I've lost."</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood demurred.</p> +<p>"Think of the people who wish they had grown up without ever +reading or hearing about the Bible, so that they might read it for +the first time, when they could really understand it. You +<i>feel</i> England all the more intensely now because you come +fresh to her."</p> +<p>Diana sprang up, with a change of face--half laugh, half +frown.</p> +<p>"Yes, I feel her! Above all, I feel her enemies!"</p> +<p>She let in her dog, a fine collie, who was scratching at the +door. As she stood before the fire, holding up a biscuit for him to +jump at, she turned a red and conscious face towards her companion. +The fire in the eyes, the smile on the lip seemed to say:</p> +<p>"There!--now we have come to it. This is my passion--my +hobby--this is <i>me</i>!"</p> +<p>"Her enemies! You are political?"</p> +<p>"Desperately!"</p> +<p>"A Tory?"</p> +<p>"Fanatical. But that's only part of it, 'What should they know +of England, that only England know!'"</p> +<p>Miss Mallory threw back her head with a gesture that became +it.</p> +<p>"Ah, I see--an Imperialist?"</p> +<p>Diana nodded, smiling. She had seated herself in a chair by the +fireside. Her dog's head was on her knees, and one of her slender +hands rested on the black and tan. Mrs. Colwood admired the +picture. Miss Mallory's sloping shoulders and long waist were well +shown by her simple dress of black and closely fitting serge. Her +head crowned and piled with curly black hair, carried itself with +an amazing self-possession and pride, which was yet all feminine. +This young woman might talk politics, thought her new friend; no +male man would call her prater, while she bore herself with that +air. Her eyes--the chaperon noticed it for the first time--owed +some of their remarkable intensity, no doubt, to short sight. They +were large, finely colored and thickly fringed, but their slightly +veiled concentration suggested an habitual, though quite +unconscious <i>struggle to see</i>--with that clearness which the +mind behind demanded of them. The complexion was a clear brunette, +the cheeks rosy; the nose was slightly tilted, the mouth fresh and +beautiful though large; and the face of a lovely oval. Altogether, +an aspect of rich and glowing youth: no perfect beauty; but +something arresting, ardent--charged, perhaps over-charged, with +personality. Mrs. Colwood said to herself that life at Beechcote +would be no stagnant pool.</p> +<p>While they lingered in the drawing-room before church, she kept +Diana talking. It seemed that Miss Mallory had seen Egypt, India, +and Canada, in the course of her last two years of life with her +father. Their travels had spread over more than a year; and Diana +had brought Mr. Mallory back to the Riviera, only, it appeared, to +die, after some eight months of illness. But in securing to her +that year of travel, her father had bestowed his last and best gift +upon her. Aided by his affection, and stimulated by his knowledge, +her mind and character had rapidly developed. And, as through a +natural outlet, all her starved devotion for the England she had +never known, had spent itself upon the Englands she found beyond +the seas; upon the hard-worked soldiers and civilians in lonely +Indian stations, upon the captains of English ships, upon the +pioneers of Canadian fields and railways; upon England, in fact, as +the arbiter of oriental faiths--the wrestler with the desert--the +mother and maker of new states. A passion for the work of her race +beyond these narrow seas--a passion of sympathy, which was also a +passion of antagonism, since every phase of that work, according to +Miss Mallory, had been dogged by the hate and calumny of base +minds--expressed itself through her charming mouth, with a quite +astonishing fluency. Mrs. Colwood's mind moved uneasily. She had +expected an orphan girl, ignorant of the world, whom she might +mother, and perhaps mould. She found a young Egeria, talking +politics with raised color and a throbbing voice, as other girls +might talk of lovers or chiffons. Egeria's companion secretly and +with some alarm reviewed her own equipment in these directions. +Miss Mallory discoursed of India. Mrs. Colwood had lived in it. But +her husband had entered the Indian Civil Service, simply in order +that he might have money enough to marry her. And during their +short time together, they had probably been more keenly alive to +the depreciation of the rupee than to ideas of England's imperial +mission. But Herbert had done his duty, of course he had. Once or +twice as Miss Mallory talked the little widow's eyes filled with +tears again unseen. The Indian names Diana threw so proudly into +air were, for her companion, symbols of heart-break and death. But +she played her part; and her comments and interjections were all +that was necessary to keep the talk flowing.</p> +<p>In the midst of it voices were suddenly heard outside. Diana +started.</p> +<p>"Carols!" she said, with flushing cheeks. "The first time I have +heard them in England itself!"</p> +<p>She flew to the hall, and threw the door open. A handful of +children appeared shouting "Good King Wenceslas" in a hideous +variety of keys. Miss Mallory heard them with enthusiasm; then +turned to the butler behind her.</p> +<p>"Give them a shilling, please, Brown."</p> +<p>A quick change passed over the countenance of the man +addressed.</p> +<p>"Lady Emily, ma'am, never gave more than three-pence."</p> +<p>This stately person had formerly served the Vavasours, and was +much inclined to let his present mistress know it.</p> +<p>Diana looked disappointed, but submissive.</p> +<p>"Oh, very well, Brown--I don't want to alter any of the old +ways. But I hear the choir will come up to-night. Now they must +have five shillings--and supper, please, Brown."</p> +<p>Brown drew himself up a little more stiffly.</p> +<p>"Lady Emily always gave 'em supper, ma'am, but, begging your +pardon, she didn't hold at all with giving 'em money."</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't care!" said Miss Mallory, hastily. "I'm sure +they'll like it, Brown! Five shillings, please."</p> +<p>Brown withdrew, and Diana, with a laughing face and her hands +over her ears, to mitigate the farewell bawling of the children, +turned to Mrs. Colwood, with an invitation to dress for church.</p> +<p>"The first time for me," she explained. "I have been coming up +and down, for a month or more, two or three days at a time, to see +to the furnishing. But now I am <i>at home!</i>"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The Christmas service in the parish church was agreeable enough. +The Beechcote pew was at the back of the church, and as the new +mistress of the old house entered and walked down the aisle, she +drew the eyes of a large congregation of rustics and small +shopkeepers. Diana moved in a kind of happy absorption, glancing +gently from side to side. This gathering of villagers was to her +representative of a spiritual and national fellowship to which she +came now to be joined. The old church, wreathed in ivy and holly; +the tombs in the southern aisle; the loaves standing near the porch +for distribution after service, in accordance with an old +benefaction; the fragments of fifteenth-century glass in the +windows; the school-children to her left; the singing, the prayers, +the sermon--found her in a welcoming, a child-like mood. She knelt, +she sang, she listened, like one undergoing initiation, with a +tender aspiring light in her eyes, and an eager mobility of +expression.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood was more critical. The clergyman who preached the +sermon did not, in fact, please her at all. He was a thin High +Churchman, with an oblong face and head, narrow shoulders, and a +spare frame. He wore spectacles, and his voice was disagreeably +pitched. His sermon was nevertheless remarkable. A bare yet +penetrating style; a stern view of life; the voice of a prophet, +and apparently the views of a socialist--all these he possessed. +None of them, it might have been thought, were especially fitted to +capture either the female or the rustic mind. Yet it could not be +denied that the congregation was unusually good for a village +church; and by the involuntary sigh which Miss Mallory gave as the +sermon ended, Mrs. Colwood was able to gauge the profound and +docile attention with which one at least had listened to it.</p> +<p>After church there was much lingering in the churchyard for the +exchange of Christmas greetings. Mrs. Colwood found herself +introduced to the Vicar, Mr. Lavery; to a couple of maiden ladies +of the name of Bertram, who seemed to have a good deal to do with +the Vicar, and with the Church affairs of the village; and to an +elderly couple, Dr. and Mrs. Roughsedge, white-haired, courteous, +and kind, who were accompanied by a soldier son, in whom it was +evident they took a boundless pride. The young man, of a handsome +and open countenance, looked at Miss Mallory as much as good +manners allowed. She, however, had eyes for no one but the Vicar, +with whom she started, <i>tête-à-tête</i>, in +the direction of the Vicarage.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood followed, shyly making acquaintance with the +Roughsedges, and the elder Miss Bertram. That lady was tall, fair, +and faded; she had a sharp, handsome nose, and a high forehead; and +her eyes, which hardly ever met those of the person with whom she +talked, gave the impression of a soul preoccupied, with few or none +of the ordinary human curiosities.</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge, on the other hand, was most human, motherly, +and inquisitive. She wore two curls on either side of her face held +by small combs, a large bonnet, and an ample cloak. It was clear +that whatever adoration she could spare from her husband was +lavished on her son. But there was still enough good temper and +good will left to overflow upon the rest of mankind. She perceived +in a moment that Mrs. Colwood was the new "companion" to the +heiress, that she was a widow, and sad--in spite of her +cheerfulness.</p> +<p>"Now I hope Miss Mallory is going to <i>like</i> us!" she said, +with a touch of confidential good-humor, as she drew Mrs. Colwood a +little behind the others. "We are all in love with her already. But +she must be patient with us. We're very humdrum folk!"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood could only say that Miss Mallory seemed to be in +love with everything--the house, the church, the village, and the +neighbors. Mrs. Roughsedge shook her gray curls, smiling, as she +replied that this was no doubt partly due to novelty. After her +long residence abroad, Miss Mallory was--it was very evident--glad +to come home. Poor thing--she must have known a great deal of +trouble--an only child, and no mother! "Well, I'm sure if there's +anything <i>we</i> can do--"</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge nodded cheerfully towards her husband and son in +front. The gesture awakened a certain natural reserve in Mrs. +Colwood, followed by a quick feeling of amusement with herself that +she should so soon have developed the instinct of the watch-dog. +But it was not to be denied that the new mistress of Beechcote was +well endowed, as single women go. Fond mothers with marriageable +sons might require some handling.</p> +<p>But Mrs. Roughsedge's simple kindness soon baffled distrust. And +Mrs. Colwood was beginning to talk freely, when suddenly the Vicar +and Miss Mallory in front came to a stop. The way to the Vicarage +lay along a side road. The Roughsedges also, who had walked so far +for sociability's sake, must return to the village and early +dinner. The party broke up. Miss Mallory, as she made her +good-byes, appeared a little flushed and discomposed. But the +unconscious fire in her glance, and the vigor of her carriage, did +but add to her good looks. Captain Roughsedge, as he touched her +hand, asked whether he should find her at home that afternoon if he +called, and Diana absently said yes.</p> +<p>"What a strange impracticable man!" cried Miss Mallory hotly, as +the ladies turned into the Beechcote drive. "It is really a +misfortune to find a man of such opinions in this place."</p> +<p>"The Vicar?" said Mrs. Colwood, bewildered</p> +<p>"A Little Englander!--a <i>socialist</i>! And so <i>rude</i> +too! I asked him to let me help him with, his poor--and he threw +back my offers in my face. What they wanted, he said, was not +charity, but justice. And justice apparently means cutting up the +property of the rich, and giving it to the poor. Is it my fault if +the Vavasours neglected their cottages? I just mentioned +emigration, and he foamed! I am sure he would give away the +Colonies for a pinch of soap, and abolish the Army and Navy +to-morrow."</p> +<p>Diana's face glowed with indignation--with wounded feeling +besides. Mrs. Colwood endeavored to soothe her, but she remained +grave and rather silent for some time. The flow of Christmas +feeling and romantic pleasure had been arrested, and the memory of +a harsh personality haunted the day. In the afternoon, however, in +the unpacking of various pretty knick-knacks, and in the putting +away of books and papers, Diana recovered herself. She flitted +about the house, arranging her favorite books, hanging pictures, +and disposing embroideries. The old walls glowed afresh under her +hand, and from the combination of their antique beauty with her +young taste, a home began to emerge, stamped with a woman's +character and reflecting her enthusiasms. As she assisted in the +task, Mrs. Colwood learned many things. She gathered that Miss +Mallory read two or three languages, that she was passionately fond +of French memoirs and the French classics, that her father had +taught her Latin and German, and guided every phase of her +education. Traces indeed of his poetic and scholarly temper were +visible throughout his daughter's possessions--so plainly, that at +last as they came nearly to the end of the books, Diana's gayety +once more disappeared. She moved soberly and dreamily, as though +the past returned upon her; and once or twice Mrs. Colwood came +upon her standing motionless, her finger in an open book, her eyes +wandering absently through the casement windows to the distant wall +of hill. Sometimes, as she bent over the books and packets she +would say little things, or quote stories of her father, which +seemed to show a pretty wish on her part to make the lady who was +now to be her companion understand something of the feelings and +memories on which her life was based. But there was dignity in it +all, and, besides, a fundamental awe and reserve. Mrs. Colwood +seemed to see that there were remembrances connected with her +father far too poignant to be touched in speech.</p> +<p>At tea-time Captain Roughsedge appeared. Mrs. Colwood's first +impression of his good manners and good looks was confirmed. But +his conversation could not be said to flow: and in endeavoring to +entertain him the two ladies fought a rather uphill fight. Then +Diana discovered that he belonged to the Sixtieth Rifles, whereupon +the young lady disclosed a knowledge of the British Army, and its +organization, which struck her visitor as nothing short of +astounding. He listened to her open-mouthed while she rattled on, +mainly to fill up the gaps in his own remarks; and when she paused, +he bluntly complimented her on her information. "Oh, that was +papa!" said Diana, with a smile and a sigh. "He taught me all he +could about the Army, though he himself had only been a Volunteer. +There was an old <i>History of the British Army</i> I was brought +up on. It was useful when we went to India--because I knew so much +about the regiments we came across."</p> +<p>This accomplishment of hers proved indeed a god-send; the young +man found his tongue; and the visit ended much better than it +began.</p> +<p>As he said good-bye, he looked, round the drawing-room in +wonderment.</p> +<p>"How you've altered it! The Vavasours made it hideous. But I've +only been in this room twice before, though my people have lived +here thirty years. We were never smart enough for Lady Emily."</p> +<p>He colored as he spoke, and Diana suspected in him a memory of +small past humiliations. Evidently he was sensitive as well as +shy.</p> +<p>"Hard work--dear young man!" she said, with a smile, and a +stretch, as the door closed upon him. "But after all--<i>'que +j'aime le militaire'!</i> Now, shall we go back to work?"</p> +<p>There were still some books to unpack. Presently Mrs. Colwood +found herself helping to carry a small but heavy box of papers to +the sitting-room which Diana had arranged for herself next to her +bedroom. Mrs. Colwood noticed that before Diana asked her +assistance she dismissed her new maid, who had been till then +actively engaged in the unpacking. Miss Mallory herself unlocked +the trunk in which the despatch-box had arrived, and took it out. +The box had an old green baize covering which was much frayed and +worn. Diana placed it on the floor of her bedroom, where Mrs. +Colwood had been helping her in various unpackings, and went away +for a minute to clear a space for it in the locked wall-cupboard to +which it was to be consigned. Her companion, left alone, happened +to see that an old mended tear in the green baize had given way in +Diana's handling of the box, and quite involuntarily her eyes +caught a brass plate on the morocco lid, which bore the words, +"Sparling papers." Diana came back at the moment, and perceived the +uncovered label. She flushed a little, hesitated, and then said, +looking first at the label and then at Mrs. Colwood: "I think I +should like you to know--my name was not always Mallory. We were +Sparlings--but my father took the name of Mallory after my mother's +death. It was <i>his</i> mother's name, and there was an old +Mallory uncle who left him a property. I believe he was glad to +change his name. He never spoke to me of any Sparling relations. He +was an only child, and I always suppose his father must have been +very unkind to him--and that they quarrelled. At any rate, he quite +dropped the name, and never would let me speak of it. My mother had +hardly any relations either--only one sister who married and went +to Barbadoes. So our old name was very soon forgotten. And +please"--she looked up appealingly--"now that I have told you, will +you forget it too? It always seemed to hurt papa to hear it, and I +never could bear to do--or say--anything that gave him pain."</p> +<p>She spoke with a sweet seriousness. Mrs. Colwood, who had been +conscious of a slight shock of puzzled recollection, gave an answer +which evidently pleased Diana, for the girl held out her hand and +pressed that of her companion; then they carried the box to its +place, and were leaving the room, when suddenly Diana, with a +joyous exclamation, pounced on a book which was lying on the floor, +tumbled among a dozen others recently unpacked.</p> +<p>"Mr. Marsham's Rossetti! I <i>am</i> glad. Now I can face +him!"</p> +<p>She looked up all smiles.</p> +<p>"Do you know that I am going to take you to a party next +week?--to the Marshams? They live near here--at Tallyn Hall. They +have asked us for two nights--Thursday to Saturday. I hope you +won't mind."</p> +<p>"Have I got a dress?" said Mrs. Colwood, anxiously.</p> +<p>"Oh, that doesn't matter!--not at the Marshams. I <i>am</i> +glad!" repeated Diana, fondling the book--"If I really had lost it, +it would have given him a horrid advantage!"</p> +<p>"Who is Mr. Marsham?"</p> +<p>"A gentleman we got to know at Rapallo," said Diana, still +smiling to herself. "He and his mother were there last winter. +Father and I quarrelled with him all day long. He is the worst +Radical I ever met, but--"</p> +<p>"But?--but agreeable?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes," said Diana, uncertainly, and Mrs. Colwood thought she +colored--"oh yes--agreeable!"</p> +<p>"And he lives near here?"</p> +<p>"He is the member for the division. Such a crew as we shall meet +there!" Diana laughed out. "I had better warn you. But they have +been very kind. They called directly they knew I had taken the +house. 'They' means Mr. Oliver Marsham and his mother. I <i>am</i> +glad I've found his book!" She went off embracing it.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood was left with two impressions--one sharp, the other +vague. One was that Mr. Oliver Marsham might easily become a +personage in the story of which she had just, as it were, turned +the first leaf. The other was connected with the name on the +despatch-box. Why did it haunt her? It had produced a kind of +indistinguishable echo in the brain, to which she could put no +words--which was none the less dreary; like a voice of wailing from +a far-off past.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> +<p>During the days immediately following her arrival at Beechcote, +Mrs. Colwood applied herself to a study of Miss Mallory and her +surroundings--none the less penetrating because the student was +modest and her method unperceived. She divined a nature unworldly, +impulsive, steeped, moreover, for all its spiritual and +intellectual force, which was considerable, in a kind of sensuous +romance--much connected with concrete things and symbols, places, +persons, emblems, or relics, any contact with which might at any +time bring the color to the girl's cheeks and the tears to her +eyes. <i>Honor</i>--personal or national--the word was to Diana +like a spark to dry leaves. Her whole nature flamed to it, and +there were moments when she walked visibly transfigured in the glow +of it. Her mind was rich, moreover, in the delicate, inchoate +lovers, the half-poetic, half-intellectual passions, the mystical +yearnings and aspirations, which haunt a pure expanding youth. Such +human beings, Mrs. Colwood reflected, are not generally made for +happiness. But there were also in Diana signs both of practical +ability and of a rare common-sense. Would this last avail to +protect her from her enthusiasms? Mrs. Colwood remembered a famous +Frenchwoman of whom it was said: "Her <i>judgment</i> is +infallible--her <i>conduct</i> one long mistake!" The little +companion was already sufficiently attached to Miss Mallory to hope +that in this case a natural tact and balance might not be thrown +away.</p> +<p>As to suitors and falling in love, the natural accompaniments of +such a charming youth, Mrs. Colwood came across no traces of +anything of the sort. During her journey with her father to India, +Japan, and America, Miss Mallory had indeed for the first time seen +something of society. But in the villa beside the Mediterranean it +was evident that her life with her father had been one of complete +seclusion. She and he had lived for each other. Books, sketching, +long walks, a friendly interest in their peasant neighbors--these +had filled their time.</p> +<p>It took, indeed, but a short time to discover in Miss Mallory a +hunger for society which seemed to be the natural result of long +starvation. With her neighbors the Roughsedges she was already on +the friendliest terms. To Dr. Roughsedge, who was infirm, and often +a prisoner to his library, she paid many small attentions which +soon won the heart of an old student. She was in love with Mrs. +Roughsedge's gray curls and motherly ways; and would consult her +about servants and tradesmen with an eager humility. She liked the +son, it seemed, for the parents' sake, nor was it long before he +was allowed--at his own pressing request--to help in hanging +pictures and arranging books at Beechcote. A girl's manner with +young men is always a matter of interest to older women. Mrs. +Colwood thought that Diana's manner to the young soldier could not +have been easily bettered. It was frank and gay--with just that +tinge of old-fashioned reserve which might be thought natural in a +girl of gentle breeding, brought up alone by a fastidious father. +With all her impetuosity, indeed, there was about her something +markedly virginal and remote, which is commoner, perhaps, in Irish +than English women. Mrs. Colwood watched the effect of it on +Captain Roughsedge. After her third day of acquaintance with him, +she said to herself: "He will fall in love with her!" But she said +it with compassion, and without troubling to speculate on the lady. +Whereas, with regard to the Marsham visit, she already--she could +hardly have told why--found herself full of curiosity.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, in the few days which elapsed before that visit was +due, Diana was much called on by the country-side. The girl +restrained her restlessness, and sat at home, receiving everybody +with a friendliness which might have been insipid but for its grace +and spontaneity. She disliked no one, was bored by no one. The joy +of her home-coming seemed to halo them all. Even the sour Miss +Bertrams could not annoy her; she thought them sensible and clever; +even the tiresome Mrs. Minchin of Minchin Hall, the "gusher" of the +county, who "adored" all mankind and ill-treated her step-daughter, +even she was dubbed "very kind," till Mrs. Roughsedge, next day, +kindled a passion in the girl's eyes by some tales of the +step-daughter. Mrs. Colwood wondered whether, indeed, she +<i>could</i> be bored, as Mrs. Minchin had not achieved it. Those +who talk easily and well, like Diana, are less keenly aware, she +thought, of the platitudes of their neighbors. They are not +defenceless, like the shy and the silent.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, it was clear that if Diana welcomed the neighbors +with pleasure she often saw them go with relief. As soon as the +house was clear of them, she would stand pensively by the fire, +looking down into the blaze like one on whom a dream suddenly +descends--then would often call her dog, and go out alone, into the +winter twilight. From these rambles she would return +grave--sometimes with reddened eyes. But at all times, as Mrs. +Colwood soon began to realize, there was but a thin line of +division between her gayety and some inexplicable sadness, some +unspoken grief, which seemed to rise upon her and overshadow her, +like a cloud tangled in the woods of spring. Mrs. Colwood could +only suppose that these times of silence and eclipse were connected +in some way with her father and her loss of him. But whenever they +occurred, Mrs. Colwood found her own mind invincibly recalled to +that name on the box of papers, which still haunted her, still +brought with it a vague sense of something painful and harrowing--a +breath of desolation, in strange harmony, it often seemed, with +certain looks and moods of Diana. But Mrs. Colwood searched her +memory in vain. And, indeed, after a little while, some imperious +instinct even forbade her the search--so rapid and strong was the +growth of sympathy with the young life which had called her to its +aid.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The day of the Marsham visit arrived--a January afternoon clear +and frosty. In the morning before they were to start, Diana seemed +to be often closeted with her maid, and once in passing Miss +Mallory's open door, her companion could not help seeing a +consultation going on, and a snowy white dress, with black ribbons, +lying on the bed. Heretofore Diana had only appeared in black, the +strict black which French dressmakers understand, for it was little +more than a year since her father's death. The thought of seeing +her in white stirred Mrs. Colwood's expectations.</p> +<p>Tallyn Hall was eight miles from Beechcote. The ladies were to +drive, but in order to show Mrs. Colwood something of the country, +Diana decreed that they should walk up to the downs by a field +path, meeting the carriage which bore their luggage at a convenient +point on the main road.</p> +<p>The day was a day of beauty--the trees and grass lightly rimed, +the air sparkling and translucent. Nature was held in the rest of +winter; but beneath the outward stillness, one caught as it were +the strong heart-beat of the mighty mother. Diana climbed the steep +down without a pause, save when she turned round from time to time +to help her companion. Her slight firm frame, the graceful decision +of her movements, the absence of all stress and effort showed a +creature accustomed to exercise and open air; Mrs. Colwood, the +frail Anglo-Indian to whom walking was a task, tried to rival her +in vain; and Diana was soon full of apologies and remorse for +having tempted her to the climb.</p> +<p>"Please!--please!"--the little lady panted, as they reached the +top--"wasn't this worth it?"</p> +<p>For they stood in one of the famous wood and common lands of +Southern England--great beeches towering overhead--glades opening +to right and left--ferny paths over green turf-tracks, and avenues +of immemorial age, the highways of a vanished life--old +earth-works, overgrown--lanes deep-sunk in the chalk where the +pack-horses once made their way--gnarled thorns, bent with years, +yet still white-mantled in the spring: a wild, enchanted no-man's +country, owned it seemed by rabbits and birds, solitary, lovely, +and barren--yet from its furthest edge, the high spectator, looking +eastward, on a clear night, might see on the horizon the dim flare +of London.</p> +<p>Diana's habitual joy broke out, as she stood gazing at the +village below, the walls and woods of Beechcote, the church, the +plough-lands, and the far-western plain, drawn in pale grays and +purples under the declining sun.</p> +<p>"Isn't it heavenly!--the browns--the blues--the soberness, the +delicacy of it all? Oh, so much better than any tiresome +Mediterranean--any stupid Riviera!--Ah!" She stopped and turned, +checked by a sound behind her.</p> +<p>Captain Roughsedge appeared, carrying his gun, his spaniel +beside him. He greeted the ladies with what seemed to Mrs. Colwood +a very evident start of pleasure, and turned to walk with them.</p> +<p>"You have been shooting?" said Diana.</p> +<p>He admitted it.</p> +<p>"That's what you enjoy?"</p> +<p>He flushed.</p> +<p>"More than anything in the world."</p> +<p>But he looked at his questioner a little askance, as though +uncertain how she might take so gross a confession.</p> +<p>Diana laughed, and hoped he got as much as he desired. Then he +was not like his father--who cared so much for books?</p> +<p>"Oh, books!" He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, the fact is, I--I +don't often read if I can help it. But of course they make you do a +lot of it--with these beastly examinations. They've about spoiled +the army with them."</p> +<p>"You wouldn't do it for pleasure?"</p> +<p>"What--reading?" He shook his head decidedly. "Not while I could +be doing anything else."</p> +<p>"Not history or poetry?"</p> +<p>He looked at her again nervously. But the girl's face was gay, +and he ventured on the truth.</p> +<p>"Well, no, I can't say I do. My father reads a deal of poetry +aloud."</p> +<p>"And it bores you?"</p> +<p>"Well, I don't understand it," he said, slowly and candidly.</p> +<p>"Don't you even read the papers?" asked Diana, wondering.</p> +<p>He started.</p> +<p>"Why, I should think I do!" he cried. "I should rather think I +do! That's another thing altogether--that's not books."</p> +<p>"Then perhaps you read the debate last night?" She looked at him +with a kindling eye.</p> +<p>"Of course I did--every word of it! Do you know what those +Radical fellows are up to now? They'll never rest until we've lost +the Khaibar--and then the Lord only knows what'll happen."</p> +<p>Diana flew into discussion--quick breath, red cheeks! Mrs. +Colwood looked on amazed.</p> +<p>Presently both appealed to her, the Anglo-Indian. But she smiled +and stammered--declining the challenge. Beside their eagerness, +their passion, she felt herself tongue-tied. Captain Roughsedge had +seen two years' service on the Northwest Frontier; Diana had ridden +through the Khaibar with her father and a Lieutenant-Governor. In +both the sense of England's historic task as the guardian of a +teeming India against onslaught from the north, had sunk deep, not +into brain merely. Figures of living men, acts of heroism and +endurance, the thought of English soldiers ambushed in mountain +defiles, or holding out against Afridi hordes in lonely forts, +dying and battling, not for themselves, but that the great mountain +barrier might hold against the savagery of the north, and English +honor and English power maintain themselves unscathed--these had +mingled, in both, with the chivalry and the red blood of youth. The +eyes of both had seen; the hearts of both had felt.</p> +<p>And now, in the English House of Commons, there were men who +doubted and sneered about these things--who held an Afridi life +dearer than an English one--who cared nothing for the historic +task, who would let India go to-morrow without a pang!</p> +<p>Misguided recreants! But Mrs. Colwood, looking on, could only +feel that had they never played their impish part, the winter +afternoon for these two companions of hers would have been +infinitely less agreeable.</p> +<p>For certainly denunication and argument became Diana--all the +more that she was no "female franzy" who must have all the best of +the talk; she listened--she evoked--she drew on, and drew out. Mrs. +Colwood was secretly sure that this very modest and ordinarily +stupid young man had never talked so well before, that his mother +would have been astonished could she have beheld him. What had come +to the young women of this generation! Their grandmothers cared for +politics only so far as they advanced the fortunes of their +lords--otherwise what was Hecuba to them, or they to Hecuba? But +these women have minds for the impersonal. Diana was not talking to +make an effect on Captain Roughsedge--that was the strange part of +it. Hundreds of women can make politics serve the primitive woman's +game; the "come hither in the ee" can use that weapon as well as +any other. But here was an intellectual, a patriotic passion, +veritable, genuine, not feigned.</p> +<p>Well!--the spectator admitted it--unwillingly--so long as the +debater, the orator, were still desirable, still lovely. She stole +a glance at Captain Roughsedge. Was he, too, so unconscious of sex, +of opportunity? Ah! <i>that</i> she doubted! The young man played +his part stoutly; flung back the ball without a break; but there +were glances, and movements and expressions, which to this shrewd +feminine eye appeared to betray what no scrutiny could detect in +Diana--a pleasure within a pleasure, and thoughts behind thoughts. +At any rate, he prolonged the walk as long as it could be +prolonged; he accompanied them to the very door of their carriage, +and would have delayed them there but that Diana looked at her +watch in dismay.</p> +<p>"You'll hear plenty of that sort of stuff to-night!" he said, as +he helped them to their wraps. "'Perish India!' and all the rest of +it. All they'll mind at Tallyn will be that the Afridis haven't +killed a few more Britishers."</p> +<p>Diana gave him a rather grave smile and bow as the carriage +drove on. Mrs. Colwood wondered whether the Captain's last remark +had somehow offended her companion. But Miss Mallory made no +reference to it. Instead, she began to give her companion some +preliminary information as to the party they were likely to find at +Tallyn.</p> +<p>As Mrs. Colwood already knew, Mr. Oliver Marsham, member for the +Western division of Brookshire, was young and unmarried. He lived +with his mother, Lady Lucy Marsham, the owner of Tallyn Hall; and +his widowed sister, Mrs. Fotheringham, was also a constant inmate +of the house. Mrs. Fotheringham was if possible more extreme in +opinions than her brother, frequented platforms, had quarrelled +with all her Conservative relations, including a family of +stepsons, and supported Women's Suffrage. It was evident that Diana +was steeling herself to some endurance in this quarter. As to the +other guests whom they might expect, Diana knew little. She had +heard that Mr. Ferrier was to be there--ex-Home Secretary, and now +leader of the Opposition--and old Lady Niton. Diana retailed what +gossip she knew of this rather famous personage, whom three-fourths +of the world found insolent and the rest witty. "They say, anyway, +that she can snub Mrs. Fotheringham," said Diana, laughing.</p> +<p>"You met them abroad?"</p> +<p>"Only Mr. Marsham and Lady Lucy. Papa and I were walking over +the hills at Portofino. We fell in with him, and he asked us the +way to San Fruttuoso. We were going there, so we showed him. Papa +liked him, and he came to see us afterwards--several times. Lady +Lucy came once."</p> +<p>"She is nice?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes," said Diana, vaguely, "she is quite beautiful for her +age. You never saw such lovely hands. And so fastidious--so dainty! +I remember feeling uncomfortable all the time, because I knew I had +a tear in my dress, and my hair was untidy--and I was certain she +noticed."</p> +<p>"It's all rather alarming," said Mrs. Colwood, smiling.</p> +<p>"No, no!"--Diana turned upon her eagerly. "They're very +kind--very, very kind!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The winter day was nearly gone when they reached their +destination. But there was just light enough, as they stepped out +of the carriage, to show a large modern building, built of red +brick, with many gables and bow-windows, and a generally restless +effect. As they followed the butler through the outer hall, a babel +of voices made itself heard, and when he threw open the door into +the inner hall, they found themselves ushered into a large +party.</p> +<p>There was a pleased exclamation from a tall fair man standing +near the fire, who came forward at once to meet them.</p> +<p>"So glad to see you! But we hoped for you earlier! Mother, here +is Miss Mallory."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy, a woman of sixty, still slender and stately, greeted +them kindly, Mrs. Colwood was introduced, and room was made for the +new-comers in the circle round the tea-table, which was presided +over by a lady with red hair and an eye-glass, who gave a hand to +Diana, and a bow, or more precisely a nod, to Mrs. Colwood.</p> +<p>"I'm Oliver's sister--my name's Fotheringham. That's my +cousin--Madeleine Varley. Madeleine, find me some cups! This is Mr. +Ferrier--Mr. Ferrier, Miss Mallory.--expect you know Lady +Niton.--Sir James Chide, Miss Mallory.--Perhaps that'll do to begin +with!" said Mrs. Fotheringham, carelessly, glancing at a further +group of people. "Now I'll give you some tea."</p> +<p>Diana sat down, very shy, and a little flushed. Mr. Marsham +hovered about her, inducing her to loosen her furs, bringing her +tea, and asking questions about her settlement at Beechcote. He +showed also a marked courtesy to Mrs. Colwood, and the little +widow, susceptible to every breath of kindness, formed the prompt +opinion that he was both handsome and agreeable.</p> +<p>Oliver Marsham, indeed, was not a person to be overlooked. His +height was about six foot three; and his long slender limbs and +spare frame had earned him, as a lad, among the men of his father's +works, the description of "two yards o' pump-waater, straight oop +an' down." But in his thin lengthiness there was nothing +awkward--rather a graceful readiness and vigor. And the head which +surmounted this lightly built body gave to the whole personality +the force and weight it might otherwise have missed. The hair was +very thick and very fair, though already slightly grizzled. It lay +in heavy curly masses across a broad head, defining a strong brow +above deeply set small eyes of a pale conspicuous blue. The nose, +aquiline and large; the mouth large also, but thin-lipped and +flexible; slight hollows in the cheeks, and a long, lantern jaw. +The whole figure made an impression of ease, power, and +self-confidence.</p> +<p>"So you like your old house?" he said, presently, to Diana, +sitting down beside her, and dropping his voice a little.</p> +<p>"It suits me perfectly."</p> +<p>"I am certain the moat is rheumatic! But you will never admit +it."</p> +<p>"I would, if it were true," she said, smiling.</p> +<p>"No!--you are much too romantic. You see, I remember our +conversations."</p> +<p>"Did I never admit the truth?"</p> +<p>"You would never admit it <i>was</i> the truth. And my +difficulty was to find an arbiter between us."</p> +<p>Diana's face changed a little. He perceived it instantly.</p> +<p>"Your father was sometimes arbiter," he said, in a still lower +tone--"but naturally he took your side. I shall always rejoice I +had that chance of meeting him."</p> +<p>Diana said nothing, but her dark eyes turned on him with a soft +friendly look. His own smiled in response, and he resumed:</p> +<p>"I suppose you don't know many of these people here?"</p> +<p>"Not any."</p> +<p>"I'm sure you'll like Mr. Ferrier. He is our very old +friend--almost my guardian. Of course--on politics--you won't +agree!"</p> +<p>"I didn't expect to agree with anybody here," said Diana, +slyly.</p> +<p>He laughed.</p> +<p>"I might offer you Lady Niton--but I refrain. To-morrow I have +reason to believe that two Tories are coming to dinner."</p> +<p>"Which am I to admire?--your liberality, or their courage?"</p> +<p>"I have matched them by two socialists. Which will you sit +next?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I am proof!" said Diana. "'Come one, come all.'"</p> +<p>He looked at her smilingly.</p> +<p>"Is it always the same? Are you still in love with all the dear +old abuses?"</p> +<p>"And do you still hate everything that wasn't made last +week?"</p> +<p>"Oh no! We only hate what cheats or oppresses the people."</p> +<p>"The people?" echoed Diana, with an involuntary lift of the +eyebrows, and she looked round the immense hall, with its costly +furniture, its glaring electric lights, and the band of bad fresco +which ran round its lower walls.</p> +<p>Oliver Marsham reddened a little; then said:</p> +<p>"I see my cousin Miss Drake. May I introduce her?--Alicia!"</p> +<p>A young lady had entered, from a curtained archway dividing the +hall from a passage beyond. She paused a moment examining the +company. The dark curtain behind her made an effective background +for the brilliance of her hair, dress, and complexion, of which +fact--such at least was Diana's instant impression--she was most +composedly aware. At least she lingered a few leisurely seconds, +till everybody in the hall had had the opportunity of marking her +entrance. Then beckoned by Oliver Marsham, she moved toward +Diana.</p> +<p>"How do you do? I suppose you've had a long drive? Don't you +hate driving?"</p> +<p>And without waiting for an answer, she turned affectedly away, +and took a place at the tea-table where room had been made for her +by two young men. Reaching out a white hand, she chose a cake, and +began to nibble it slowly, her elbows resting on the table, the +ruffles of white lace falling back from her bare and rounded arms. +Her look meanwhile, half absent, half audacious, seemed to wander +round the persons near, as though she saw them, without taking any +real account of them.</p> +<p>"What have you been doing, Alicia, all this time?" said Marsham, +as he handed her a cup of tea.</p> +<p>"Dressing."</p> +<p>An incredulous shout from the table.</p> +<p>"Since lunch!"</p> +<p>Miss Drake nodded. Lady Lucy put in an explanatory remark about +a "dressmaker from town," but was not heard. The table was engaged +in watching the new-comer.</p> +<p>"May we congratulate you on the result?" said Mr. Ferrier, +putting up his eye-glass.</p> +<p>"If you like," said Miss Drake, indifferently, still gently +munching at her cake. Then suddenly she smiled--a glittering +infectious smile, to which unconsciously all the faces near her +responded. "I have been reading the book you lent me!" she said, +addressing Mr. Ferrier.</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"I'm too stupid--I can't understand it."</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier laughed.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid that excuse won't do, Miss Alicia. You must find +another."</p> +<p>She was silent a moment, finished her cake, then took some +grapes, and began to play with them in the same conscious +provocative way--till at last she turned upon her immediate +neighbor, a young barrister with a broad boyish face.</p> +<p>"Well, I wonder whether <i>you'd</i> mind?"</p> +<p>"Mind what?"</p> +<p>"If your father had done something shocking--forged--or +murdered--or done something of that kind--supposing, of course, he +were dead."</p> +<p>"Do you mean--if I suddenly found out?"</p> +<p>She nodded assent.</p> +<p>"Well!" he reflected; "it would be disagreeable!"</p> +<p>"Yes--but would it make you give up all the things you +like?--golfing--and cards--and parties--and the girl you were +engaged to--and take to slumming, and that kind of thing?"</p> +<p>The slight inflection of the last words drew smiles. Mr. Ferrier +held up a finger.</p> +<p>"Miss Alicia, I shall lend you no more books."</p> +<p>"Why? Because I can't appreciate them?"</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier laughed.</p> +<p>"I maintain that book is a book to melt the heart of a +stone."</p> +<p>"Well, I tried to cry," said the girl, putting another grape +into her mouth, and quietly nodding at her interlocutor--"I +did--honor bright. But--really--what does it matter what your +father did?"</p> +<p>"My <i>dear!</i>" said Lady Lucy, softly. Her singularly white +and finely wrinkled face, framed in a delicate capote of old lace, +looked coldly at the speaker.</p> +<p>"By-the-way," said Mr. Ferrier, "does not the question rather +concern you in this neighborhood? I hear young Brenner has just +come to live at West Hill. I don't now what sort of a youth he is, +but if he's a decent fellow, I don't imagine anybody will boycott +him on account of his father's misdoings."</p> +<p>He referred to one of the worst financial scandals of the +preceding generation. Lady Lucy made no answer, but any one closely +observing her might have noticed a sudden and sharp stiffening of +the lips, which was in truth her reply.</p> +<p>"Oh, you can always ask a man like that to garden-parties!" said +a shrill, distant voice. The group round the table turned. The +remark was made by old Lady Niton, who sat enthroned in an +arm-chair near the fire, sometimes knitting, and sometimes +observing her neighbors with a malicious eye.</p> +<p>"Anything's good enough, isn't it, for garden-parties?" said +Mrs. Fotheringham, with a little sneer.</p> +<p>Lady Niton's face kindled. "Let us be Radicals, my dear," she +said, briskly, "but not hypocrites. Garden-parties are +invaluable--for people you can't ask into the house. By-the-way, +wasn't it you, Oliver, who scolded me last night, because I said +somebody wasn't 'in Society'?"</p> +<p>"You said it of a particular hero of mine," laughed Marsham. "I +naturally pitied Society."</p> +<p>"What is Society? Where is it?" said Sir James Chide, +contemptuously. "I suppose Lady Palmerston knew."</p> +<p>The famous lawyer sat a little apart from the rest. Diana, who +had only caught his name, and knew nothing else of him, looked with +sudden interest at the man's great brow and haughty look. Lady +Niton shook her head emphatically.</p> +<p>"We know quite as well as she did. Society is just as strong and +just as exclusive as it ever was. But it is clever enough now to +hide the fact from outsiders."</p> +<p>"I am afraid we must agree that standards have been much +relaxed," said Lady Lucy.</p> +<p>"Not at all--not at all!" cried Lady Niton. "There were black +sheep then; and there are black sheep now."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy held her own.</p> +<p>"I am sure that people take less care in their invitations," she +said, with soft obstinacy. "I have often heard my mother speak of +society in her young days,--how the dear Queen's example purified +it--and how much less people bowed down to money then than +now."</p> +<p>"Ah, that was before the Americans and the Jews," said Sir James +Chide.</p> +<p>"People forget their responsibility," said Lady Lucy, turning to +Diana, and speaking so as not to be heard by the whole table. "In +old days it was birth; but now--now when we are all democratic--it +should be <i>character</i>.--Don't you agree with me?"</p> +<p>"Other people's character?" asked Diana.</p> +<p>"Oh, we mustn't be unkind, of course. But when a thing is +notorious. Take this young Brenner. His father's frauds ruined +hundreds of poor people. How can I receive him here, as if nothing +had happened? It ought not to be forgotten. He himself ought to +<i>wish</i> to live quietly!"</p> +<p>Diana gave a hesitating assent, adding: "But I'm sorry for Mr. +Brenner!"</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier, as she spoke, leaned slightly across the tea-table +as though to listen to what she said. Lady Lucy moved away, and Mr. +Ferrier, after spending a moment of quiet scrutiny on the young +mistress of Beechcote, came to sit beside her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham threw herself back in her chair with a little +yawn. "Mamma is more difficult than the Almighty!" she said, in a +loud aside to Sir James Chide. "One sin--or even somebody else's +sin--and you are done for."</p> +<p>Sir James, who was a Catholic, and scrupulous in speech, pursed +his lips slightly, drummed on the table with his fingers, and +finally rose without reply, and betook himself to the <i>Times</i>. +Miss Drake meanwhile had been carried off to play billiards at the +farther end of the hall by the young men of the party. It might +have been noticed that, before she went, she had spent a few +minutes of close though masked observation of her cousin Oliver's +new friend. Also, that she tried to carry Oliver Marsham with her, +but unsuccessfully. He had returned to Diana's neighborhood, and +stood leaning over a chair beside her, listening to her +conversation with Mr. Ferrier.</p> +<p>His sister, Mrs. Fotheringham, was not content to listen. +Diana's impressions of the country-side, which presently caught her +ear, evidently roused her pugnacity. She threw herself on all the +girl's rose-colored appreciations with a scorn hardly disguised. +All the "locals," according to her, were stupid or snobbish--bores, +in fact, of the first water. And to Diana's discomfort and +amazement, Oliver Marsham joined in. He showed himself possessed of +a sharper and more caustic tongue than Diana had yet suspected. His +sister's sallies only amused him, and sometimes he improved on +them, with epithets or comments, shrewder than hers indeed, but +quite as biting.</p> +<p>"His neighbors and constituents!" thought Diana, in a young +astonishment. "The people who send him to Parliament!"</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier seemed to become aware of her surprise and +disapproval, for he once or twice threw in a satirical word or two, +at the expense, not of the criticised, but of the critics. The +well-known Leader of the Opposition was a stout man of middle +height, with a round head and face, at first sight wholly +undistinguished, an ample figure, and smooth, straight hair. But +there was so much honesty and acuteness in the eyes, so much humor +in the mouth, and so much kindness in the general aspect, that +Diana felt herself at once attracted; and when the master of the +house was summoned by his head gamekeeper to give directions for +the shooting-party of the following day, and Mrs. Fotheringham had +gone off to attend what seemed to be a vast correspondence, the +politician and the young girl fell into a conversation which soon +became agreeable and even absorbing to both. Mrs. Colwood, sitting +on the other side of the hall, timidly discussing fancy work with +the Miss Varleys, Lady Lucy's young nieces, saw that Diana was +making a conquest; and it seemed to her, moreover, that Mr. +Ferrier's scrutiny of his companion was somewhat more attentive and +more close than was quite explained by the mere casual encounter of +a man of middle-age with a young and charming girl. Was he--like +herself--aware that matters of moment might be here at their +beginning?</p> +<p>Meanwhile, if Mr. Ferrier was making discoveries, so was Diana. +A man, it appeared, could be not only one of the busiest and most +powerful politicians in England, but also a philosopher, and a +reader, one whose secret tastes were as unworldly and romantic as +her own. Books, music, art--he could handle these subjects no less +skilfully than others political or personal. And, throughout, his +deference to a young and pretty woman was never at fault. Diana was +encouraged to talk, and then, without a word of flattery, given to +understand that her talk pleased. Under this stimulus, her soft +dark beauty was soon glowing at its best; innocence, intelligence, +and youth, spread as it were their tendrils to the sun.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Sir James Chide, a few yards off, was apparently +absorbed partly in the <i>Times</i>, partly in the endeavor to make +Lady Lucy's fox terrier go through its tricks.</p> +<p>Once Mr. Ferrier drew Diana's attention to her neighbor.</p> +<p>"You know him?"</p> +<p>"I never saw him before."</p> +<p>"You know who he is?"</p> +<p>"Ought I?--I am so sorry!"</p> +<p>"He is perhaps the greatest criminal advocate we have. And a +very distinguished politician too.--Whenever our party comes in, he +will be in the Cabinet.--You must make him talk this evening."</p> +<p>"I?" said Diana, laughing and blushing.</p> +<p>"You can!" smiled Mr. Ferrier. "Witness how you have been making +me chatter! But I think I read you right? You do not mind if one +chatters?--if one gives you information?"</p> +<p>"Mind!--How could I be anything but grateful? It puzzles me +so--this--" she hesitated.</p> +<p>"This English life?--especially the political life? Well!--let +me be your guide. I have been in it for a long while."</p> +<p>Diana thanked him, and rose.</p> +<p>"You want your room?" he asked her, kindly.--"Mrs. Fotheringham, +I think, is in the drawing-room. Let me take you to her. But, +first, look at two or three of these pictures as you go."</p> +<p>"These--pictures?" faltered Diana, looking round her, her tone +changing.</p> +<p>"Oh, not those horrible frescos! Those were perpetrated by +Marsham's father. They represent, as you see, the different +processes of the Iron Trade. Old Henry Marsham liked them, because, +as he said, they explained him, and the house. Oliver would like to +whitewash them--but for filial piety. People might suppose him +ashamed of his origin. No, no!--I mean those two or three old +pictures at the end of the room. Come and look at them--they are on +our way."</p> +<p>He led her to inspect them. They proved to be two Gainsboroughs +and a Raeburn, representing ancestors on Lady Lucy's side. Mr. +Ferrier's talk of them showed his intimate knowledge both of +Varleys and Marshams, the knowledge rather of a kinsman than a +friend. Diana perceived, indeed, how great must be the affection, +the intimacy, between him and them.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, as the man of fifty and the slender girl in black +passed before him, on their way to examine the pictures, Sir James +Chide, casually looking up, was apparently struck by some rapid and +powerful impression. It arrested the hand playing with the dog; it +held and transformed the whole man. His eyes, open as though in +astonishment or pain, followed every movement of Diana, scrutinized +every look and gesture. His face had flushed slightly--his lips +were parted. He had the aspect of one trying eagerly, passionately, +to follow up some clew that would not unwind itself; and every now +and then he bent forward--listening--trying to catch her voice.</p> +<p>Presently the inspection was over. Diana turned and beckoned to +Mrs. Colwood. The two ladies went toward the drawing-room, Mr. +Ferrier showing the way.</p> +<p>When he returned to the hall, Sir James Chide, its sole +occupant, was walking up and down.</p> +<p>"Who was that young lady?" said Sir James, turning abruptly.</p> +<p>"Isn't she charming? Her name is Mallory--and she has just +settled at Beechcote, near here. That small fair lady was her +companion. Oliver tells me she is an orphan--well off--with no kith +or kin. She has just come to England, it seems, for the first time. +Her father brought her up abroad away from everybody. She will have +a success! But of all the little Jingoes!"</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier's face expressed an amused recollection of some of +Diana's speeches.</p> +<p>"Mallory?" said Sir James, under his breath--"<i>Mallory?</i>" +He walked to the window, and stood looking out, his hands in his +pockets.</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier went up-stairs to write letters. In a few minutes +the man at the window came slowly back toward the fire, staring at +the ground.</p> +<p>"The look in the eyes!" he said to himself--"the mouth!--the +voice!"</p> +<p>He stood by the vast and pompous fireplace--hanging over the +blaze--the prey of some profound agitation, some flooding onset of +memory. Servants passed and repassed through the hall; sounds loud +and merry came from the drawing-room. Sir James neither saw nor +heard.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> +<p>Alicia Drake--a vision of pale pink--had just appeared in the +long gallery at Tallyn, on her way to dinner. Her dress, her +jewels, and all her minor appointments were of that quality and +perfection to which only much thought and plentiful money can +attain. She had not, in fact, been romancing in that account of her +afternoon which has been already quoted. Dress was her weapon and +her stock in trade; it was, she said, necessary to her "career." +And on this plea she steadily exacted in its support a proportion +of the family income which left but small pickings for the +schooling of her younger brothers and the allowances of her two +younger sisters. But so great were the indulgence and the pride of +her parents--small Devonshire land-owners living on an impoverished +estate--that Alicia's demands were conceded without a murmur. They +themselves were insignificant folk, who had, in their own opinion, +failed in life; and most of their children seemed to them to +possess the same ineffective qualities--or the same absence of +qualities--as themselves. But Alicia represented their one chance +of something brilliant and interesting, something to lift them +above their neighbors and break up the monotony of their later +lives. Their devotion was a strange mixture of love and +selfishness; at any rate, Alicia could always feel, and did always +feel, that she was playing her family's game as well as her +own.</p> +<p>Her own game, of course, came first. She was not a beauty, in +the sense in which Diana Mallory was a beauty; and of that fact she +had been perfectly aware after her first apparently careless glance +at the new-comer of the afternoon. But she had points that never +failed to attract notice: a free and rather insolent carriage, +audaciously beautiful eyes, a general roundness and softness, and a +grace--unfailing, deliberate, and provocative, even in actions, +morally, the most graceless--that would have alone secured her the +"career" on which she was bent.</p> +<p>Of her mental qualities, one of the most profitable was a very +shrewd power of observation. As she swept slowly along the +corridor, which overlooked the hall at Tallyn, none of the details +of the house were lost upon her. Tallyn was vast, ugly--above all, +rich. Henry Marsham, the deceased husband of Lady Lucy and father +of Oliver and Mrs. Fotheringham, had made an enormous fortune in +the Iron Trade of the north, retiring at sixty that he might enjoy +some of those pleasures of life for which business had left him too +little time. One of these pleasures was building. Henry Marsham had +spent ten years in building Tallyn, and at the end of that time, +feeling it impossible to live in the huge incoherent place he had +created, he hired a small villa at Nice and went to die there in +privacy and peace. Nevertheless, his will laid strict injunctions +upon his widow to inhabit and keep up Tallyn; injunctions backed by +considerable sanctions of a financial kind. His will, indeed, had +been altogether a document of some eccentricity; though as eight +years had now elapsed since his death, the knowledge of its +provisions possessed by outsiders had had time to grow vague. +Still, there were strong general impressions abroad, and as Alicia +Drake surveyed the house which the old man had built to be the +incubus of his descendants, some of them teased her mind. It was +said, for instance, that Oliver Marsham and his sister only +possessed pittances of about a thousand a year apiece, while +Tallyn, together with the vast bulk of Henry Marsham's fortune, had +been willed to Lady Lucy, and lay, moreover, at her absolute +disposal. Was this so, or no? Miss Drake's curiosity, for some time +past, would have been glad to be informed.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, here was the house--about which there was no +mystery--least of all, as to its cost. Interminable broad +corridors, carpeted with ugly Brussels and suggesting a railway +hotel, branched out before Miss Drake's eyes in various directions; +upon them opened not bedrooms but "suites," as Mr. Marsham +père had loved to call them, of which the number was legion, +while the bachelors' wing alone would have lodged a regiment. Every +bedroom was like every other, except for such variations as +Tottenham Court Road, rioting at will, could suggest. Copies in +marble or bronze of well-known statues ranged along the +corridors--a forlorn troupe of nude and shivering divinities. The +immense hall below, with its violent frescos and its brand-new +Turkey carpets, was panelled in oak, from which some device of +stain or varnish had managed to abstract every particle of charm. A +whole oak wood, indeed, had been lavished on the swathing and +sheathing of the house, With the only result that the spectator +beheld it steeped in a repellent yellow-brown from top to toe, +against which no ornament, no piece of china, no picture, even did +they possess some individual beauty, could possibly make it +prevail.</p> +<p>And the drawing-room! As Alicia Drake advanced alone into its +empty and blazing magnificence she could only laugh in its face--so +eager and restless was the effort which it made, and so hopeless +the defeat. Enormous mirrors, spread on white and gold walls; large +copies from Italian pictures, collected by Henry Marsham in Rome; +more facile statues holding innumerable lights; great pieces of +modern china painted with realistic roses and poppies; crimson +carpets, gilt furniture, and flaring cabinets--Miss Drake frowned +as she looked at it. "What <i>could</i> be done with it?" she said +to herself, walking slowly up and down, and glancing from side to +side--"What <i>could</i> be done with it?"</p> +<p>A rustle in the hall announced another guest. Mrs. Fotheringham +entered. Marsham's sister dressed with severity; and as she +approached her cousin she put up her eye-glass for what was +evidently a hostile inspection of the dazzling effect presented by +the young lady. But Alicia was not afraid of Mrs. Fotheringham.</p> +<p>"How early we are!" she said, still quietly looking at the +reflection of herself in the mirror over the mantel-piece and +warming a slender foot at the fire. "Haven't some more people +arrived, Cousin Isabel? I thought I heard a carriage while I was +dressing."</p> +<p>"Yes; Miss Vincent and three men came by the late train."</p> +<p>"All Labor members?" asked Alicia, with a laugh.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham explained, with some tartness, that only one +of the three was a Labor member--Mr. Barton. Of the other two, one +was Edgar Frobisher, the other Mr. McEwart, a Liberal M.P., who had +just won a hotly contested bye-election. At the name of Edgar +Frobisher, Miss Drake's countenance showed some animation. She +inquired if he had been doing anything madder than usual. Mrs. +Fotheringham replied, without enthusiasm, that she knew nothing +about his recent doings--nor about Mr. McEwart, who was said, +however, to be of the right stuff. Mr. Barton, on the other hand, +"is a <i>great</i> friend of mine--and a most remarkable man. +Oliver has been very lucky to get him."</p> +<p>Alicia inquired whether he was likely to appear in dress +clothes.</p> +<p>"Certainly not. He never does anything out of keeping with his +class--and he knows that we lay no stress on that kind of thing." +This, with another glance at the elegant Paris frock which adorned +the person of Alicia--a frock, in Mrs. Fotheringham's opinion, far +too expensive for the girl's circumstances. Alicia received the +glance without flinching. It was one of her good points that she +was never meek with the people who disliked her. She merely threw +out another inquiry as to "Miss Vincent."</p> +<p>"One of mamma's acquaintances. She was a private secretary to +some one mamma knows, and she is going to do some work for Oliver +when the session begins.</p> +<p>"Didn't Oliver tell me she is a Socialist?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham believed it might be said.</p> +<p>"How Miss Mallory will enjoy herself!" said Alicia, with a +little laugh.</p> +<p>"Have you been talking to Oliver about her?" Mrs. Fotheringham +stared rather hard at her cousin.</p> +<p>"Of course. Oliver likes her."</p> +<p>"Oliver likes a good many people."</p> +<p>"Oh no, Cousin Isabel! Oliver likes very few people--very, very +few," said Miss Drake, decidedly, looking down into the fire.</p> +<p>"I don't know why you give Oliver such an unamiable character! +In my opinion, he is often not so much on his guard as I should +like to see him."</p> +<p>"Oh, well, we can't all be as critical as you, dear Cousin +Isabel! But, anyway, Oliver admires Miss Mallory extremely. We can +all see that."</p> +<p>The girl turned a steady face on her companion. Mrs. +Fotheringham was conscious of a certain secret admiration. But her +own point of view had nothing to do with Miss Drake's.</p> +<p>"It amuses him to talk to her," she said, sharply; "I am sure I +hope it won't come to anything more. It would be very +unsuitable."</p> +<p>"Why? Politics? Oh! that doesn't matter a bit."</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon. Oliver is becoming an important man, and it +will never do for him to hamper himself with a wife who cannot +sympathize with any of his enthusiasms and ideals."</p> +<p>Miss Drake shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"He would convert her--and he likes triumphing. Oh! Cousin +Isabel!--look at that lamp!"</p> +<p>An oil lamp in an inner drawing-room, placed to illuminate an +easel portrait of Lady Lucy, was smoking atrociously. The two +ladies' flew toward it, and were soon lost to sight and hearing +amid a labyrinth of furniture and palms.</p> +<p>The place they left vacant was almost immediately filled by +Oliver Marsham himself, who came in studying a pencilled paper, +containing the names of the guests. He and his mother had not found +the dinner very easy to arrange. Upon his heels followed Mr. +Ferrier, who hurried to the fire, rubbing his hands and complaining +of the cold.</p> +<p>"I never felt this house cold before. Has anything happened to +your <i>calorifère</i>? These rooms are too big! By-the-way, +Oliver"--Mr. Ferrier turned his back to the blaze, and looked round +him--"when are you going to reform this one?"</p> +<p>Oliver surveyed it.</p> +<p>"Of course I should like nothing better than to make a bonfire +of it all! But mother--"</p> +<p>"Of course--of course! Ah, well, perhaps when you marry, my dear +boy! Another reason for making haste!"</p> +<p>The older man turned a laughing eye on his companion. Marsham +merely smiled, a little vaguely, without reply. Ferrier observed +him, then began abstractedly to study the carpet. After a moment he +looked up--</p> +<p>"I like your little friend, Oliver--I like her +particularly!"</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory? Yes, I saw you had been making acquaintance. +Well?"</p> +<p>His voice affected a light indifference, but hardly +succeeded.</p> +<p>"A very attractive personality!--fresh and womanly--no +nonsense--heart enough for a dozen. But all the same the intellect +is hungry, and wants feeding. No one will ever succeed with her, +Oliver, who forgets she has a brain. Ah! here she is!"</p> +<p>For the door had been thrown open, and Diana entered, followed +by Mrs. Colwood. She came in slowly, her brow slightly knit, and +her black eyes touched with the intent seeking look which was +natural to them. Her dress of the freshest simplest white fell +about her in plain folds. It made the same young impression as the +childish curls on the brow and temples, and both men watched her +with delight, Marsham went to meet her.</p> +<p>"Will you sit on my left? I must take in Lady Niton."</p> +<p>Diana smiled and nodded.</p> +<p>"And who is to be my fate?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Edgar Frobisher. You will quarrel with him--and like +him!"</p> +<p>"One of the 'Socialists'?"</p> +<p>"Ah--you must find out!"</p> +<p>He threw her a laughing backward glance as he went off to give +directions to some of his other guests. The room filled up. Diana +was aware of a tall young man, fair-haired, and evidently Scotch, +whom she had not seen before, and then of a girl, whose appearance +and dress riveted her attention. She was thin and small--handsome, +but for a certain strained emaciated air, a lack of complexion and +of bloom. But her blue eyes, black-lashed and black-browed, were +superb; they made indeed the note, the distinction of the whole +figure. The thick hair, cut short in the neck, was brushed back and +held by a blue ribbon, the only trace of ornament in a singular +costume, which consisted of a very simple morning dress, of some +woollen material, nearly black, garnished at the throat and wrists +by some plain white frills. The dress hung loosely on the girl's +starved frame, the hands were long and thin, the face sallow. Yet +such was the force of the eyes, the energy of the strong chin and +mouth, the flashing freedom of her smile, as she stood talking to +Lady Lucy, that all the ugly plainness of the dress seemed to +Diana, as she watched her, merely to increase her strange +effectiveness, to mark her out the more favorably from the +glittering room, from Lady Lucy's satin and diamonds, or the +shimmering elegance of Alicia Drake.</p> +<p>As she bowed to Mr. Frobisher, and took his arm amid the pairs +moving toward the dining-room, Diana asked him eagerly who the lady +in the dark dress might be.</p> +<p>"Oh! a great friend of mine," he said, pleasantly. "Isn't she +splendid? Did you notice her evening dress?"</p> +<p>"Is it an evening dress?"</p> +<p>"It's <i>her</i> evening dress. She possesses two costumes--both +made of the same stuff, only the morning one has a straight collar, +and the evening one has frills."</p> +<p>"She doesn't think it right to dress like other people?"</p> +<p>"Well--she has very little money, and what she has she can't +afford to spend on dress. No--I suppose she doesn't think it +right."</p> +<p>By this time they were settled at table, and Diana, convinced +that she had found one of the two Socialists promised her, looked +round for the other. Ah! there he was, beside Mrs. +Fotheringham--who was talking to him with an eagerness rarely +vouchsafed to her acquaintances. A powerful, short-necked man, in +the black Sunday coat of the workman, with sandy hair, blunt +features, and a furrowed brow--he had none of the magnetism, the +strange refinement of the lady in the frills. Diana drew a long +breath.</p> +<p>"How odd it all is!" she said, as though to herself.</p> +<p>Her companion looked at her with amusement.</p> +<p>"What is odd? The combination of this house--with Barton--and +Miss Vincent?"</p> +<p>"Why do they consent to come here?" she asked, wondering. "I +suppose they despise the rich."</p> +<p>"Not at all! The poor things--the rich--can't help +themselves--just yet. <i>We</i> come here--because we mean to use +the rich."</p> +<p>"You!--you too?"</p> +<p>"A Fabian--" he said, smiling. "Which means that I am not in +such a hurry as Barton."</p> +<p>"To ruin your country? You would only murder her by +degrees?"--flashed Diana.</p> +<p>"Ah!--you throw down the glove?--so soon? Shall we postpone it +for a course or two? I am no use till I have fed."</p> +<p>Diana laughed. They fell into a gossip about their neighbors. +The plain young man, with a shock of fair hair, a merry eye, a +short chin, and the spirits of a school-boy, sitting on Lady +Niton's left, was, it seemed, the particular pet and +protégé of that masterful old lady. Diana remembered +to have seen him at tea-time in Miss Drake's train. Lady Niton, she +was told, disliked her own sons, but was never tired of befriending +two or three young men who took her fancy. Bobbie Forbes was a +constant frequenter of her house on Campden Hill. "But he is no +toady. He tells her a number of plain truths--and amuses her +guests. In return she provides him with what she calls 'the best +society'--and pushes his interests in season and out of season. He +is in the Foreign Office, and she is at present manoeuvring to get +him attached to the Special Mission which is going out to +Constantinople."</p> +<p>Diana glanced across the table, and in doing so met the eyes of +Mr. Bobbie Forbes, which laughed into hers--involuntarily--as much +as to say--"You see my plight?--ridiculous, isn't it?"</p> +<p>For Lady Niton was keeping a greedy conversational hold on both +Marsham and the young man, pouncing to right or left, as either +showed a disposition to escape from it--so that Forbes was +violently withheld from Alicia Drake, his rightful lady, and +Marsham could engage in no consecutive conversation with Diana.</p> +<p>"No escape for you!" smiled Mr. Frobisher, presently, observing +the position. "Lady Niton always devastates a dinner-party."</p> +<p>Diana protested that she was quite content. Might she assume, +after the fourth course, that his hunger was at least scotched and +conversation thrown open?</p> +<p>"I am fortified--thank you. Shall we go back to where we left +off? You had just accused me of ruining the country?"</p> +<p>"By easy stages," said Diana. "Wasn't that where we had come to? +But first--tell me, because it's all so puzzling!--do you and Mr. +Marsham agree?"</p> +<p>"A good deal. But he thinks <i>he</i> can use <i>us</i>--which +is his mistake."</p> +<p>"And Mr. Ferrier?"</p> +<p>Mr. Frobisher shook his head good-humoredly.</p> +<p>"No, no!--Ferrier is a Whig--the Whig of to-day, <i>bien +entendu</i>, who is a very different person from the Whig of +yesterday--still, a Whig, an individualist, a moderate man. He +leads the Liberal party--and it is changing all the time under his +hand into something he dreads and detests. The party can't do +without him now--but--"</p> +<p>He paused, smiling.</p> +<p>"It will shed him some day?"</p> +<p>"It must!"</p> +<p>"And where will Mr. Marsham be then?"</p> +<p>"On the winning side--I think."</p> +<p>The tone was innocent and careless; but the words offended +her.</p> +<p>She drew herself up a little.</p> +<p>"He would never betray his friends!"</p> +<p>"Certainly not," said Mr. Frobisher, hastily; "I didn't mean +that. But Marsham has a mind more open, more elastic, more modern +than Ferrier--great man as he is."</p> +<p>Diana was silent. She seemed still to hear some of the phrases +and inflections of Mr. Ferrier's talk of the afternoon. Mr. +Frobisher's prophecy wounded some new-born sympathy in her. She +turned the conversation.</p> +<p>With Oliver Marsham she talked when she could, as Lady Niton +allowed her. She succeeded, at least, in learning something more of +her right-hand neighbor and of Miss Vincent. Mr. Frobisher, it +appeared, was a Fellow of Magdalen, and was at present lodging in +Limehouse, near the docks, studying poverty and Trade-unionism, and +living upon a pound a week. As for Miss Vincent, in her capacity of +secretary to a well-known Radical member of Parliament, she had +been employed, for his benefit, in gathering information +first-hand, very often in the same fields where Mr. Frobisher was +at work. This brought them often together--and they were the best +of comrades, and allies.</p> +<p>Diana's eyes betrayed her curiosity; she seemed to be asking for +clews in a strange world. Marsham apparently felt that nothing +could be more agreeable than to guide her. He began to describe for +her the life of such a woman of the people as Marion Vincent. An +orphan at fourteen, earning her own living from the first; +self-dependent, self-protected; the friend, on perfectly equal +terms, of a group of able men, interested in the same social ideals +as herself; living alone, in contempt of all ordinary conventions, +now in Kensington or Belgravia, and now in a back street of +Stepney, or Poplar, and equally at home and her own mistress in +both; exacting from a rich employer the full market value of the +services she rendered him, and refusing to accept the smallest gift +or favor beyond; a convinced Socialist and champion of the poor, +who had within the past twelve months, to Marsham's knowledge, +refused an offer of marriage from a man of large income, +passionately devoted to her, whom she liked--mainly, it was +believed, because his wealth was based on sweated labor: such was +the character sketched by Marsham for his neighbor in the +intermittent conversation, which was all that Lady Niton allowed +him.</p> +<p>Diana listened silently, but inwardly her mind was full of +critical reactions. Was this what Mr. Marsham most admired, his +ideal of what a woman should be? Was he exalting, exaggerating it a +little, by way of antithesis to those old-fashioned surroundings, +that unreal atmosphere, as he would call it, in which, for +instance, he had found her--Diana--at Rapallo--under her father's +influence and bringing up? The notion spurred her pride as well as +her loyalty to her father. She began to hold herself rather +stiffly, to throw in a critical remark or two, to be a little +flippant even, at Miss Vincent's expense. Homage so warm laid at +the feet of one ideal was--she felt it--a disparagement of others; +she stood for those others; and presently Marsham began to realize +a hurtling of shafts in the air, an incipient battle between +them.</p> +<p>He accepted it with delight. Still the same poetical, combative, +impulsive creature, with the deep soft voice! She pleased his +senses; she stirred his mind; and he would have thrown himself into +one of the old Rapallo arguments with her then and there but for +the gad-fly at his elbow.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Immediately after dinner Lady Niton possessed herself of Diana. +"Come here, please, Miss Mallory! I wish to make your +acquaintance," Thus commanded, the laughing but rebellious Diana +allowed herself to be led to a corner of the over-illuminated +drawing-room.</p> +<p>"Well!"--said Lady Niton, observing her--"so you have come to +settle in these parts?"</p> +<p>Diana assented.</p> +<p>"What made you choose Brookshire?" The question was enforced by +a pair of needle-sharp eyes. "There isn't a person worth talking to +within a radius of twenty miles."</p> +<p>Diana declined to agree with her; whereupon Lady Niton +impatiently exclaimed: "Tut--tut! One might as well milk he-goats +as talk to the people here. Nothing to be got out of any of them. +Do you like conversation?"</p> +<p>"Immensely!"</p> +<p>"Hum!--But mind you don't talk too much. Oliver talks a great +deal more than is good for him. So you met Oliver in Italy? What do +you think of him?"</p> +<p>Diana, keeping a grip on laughter, said something civil.</p> +<p>"Oh, Oliver's clever enough--and <i>ambitious!</i>" Lady Niton +threw up her hands. "But I'll tell you what stands in his way. He +says too sharp things of people. Do you notice that?"</p> +<p>"He is very critical," said Diana, evasively.</p> +<p>"Oh, Lord, much worse than that!" said Lady Niton, coolly. "He +makes himself very unpopular. You should tell him so."</p> +<p>"That would be hardly my place." said Diana, flushing a +little.</p> +<p>Lady Niton stared at her a moment rather hard--then said: "But +he's honey and balm itself compared to Isabel! The Marshams are old +friends of mine, but I don't pretend to like Isabel Fotheringham at +all. She calls herself a Radical, and there's no one insists more +upon their birth and their advantages than she. Don't let her bully +you--come to me if she does--I'll protect you."</p> +<p>Diana said vaguely that Mrs. Fotheringham had been very +kind.</p> +<p>"You haven't had time to find out," said Lady Niton, grimly. She +leaned back fanning herself, her queer white face and small black +eyes alive with malice. "Did you ever see such a crew as we were at +dinner? I reminded Oliver of the rhyme--'The animals went in two by +two.'--It's always the way here. There's no <i>society</i> in this +house, because you can't take anything or any one for granted. One +must always begin from the beginning. What can I have in common +with that man Barton? The last time I talked to him, he thought +Lord Grey--the Reform Bill Lord Grey--was a Tory--and had never +heard of Louis Philippe. He knows nothing that <i>we</i> know--and +what do I care about his Socialist stuff?--Well, now--Alicia"--her +tone changed--"do you admire Alicia?"</p> +<p>Diana, in discomfort, glanced through the archway, leading to +the inner drawing-room, which framed the sparkling figure of Miss +Drake--and murmured a complimentary remark.</p> +<p>"No!"--said Lady Niton, with emphasis; "no--she's not +handsome--though she makes people believe she is. You'll see--in +five years. Of course the stupid men admire her, and she plays her +cards very cleverly; but--my dear!"--suddenly the formidable old +woman bent forward, and tapped Diana's arm with her fan--"let me +give you a word of advice. Don't be too innocent here--or too +amiable. Don't give yourself away--especially to Alicia!"</p> +<p>Diana had the disagreeable feeling of being looked through and +through, physically and mentally; though at the same time she was +only very vaguely conscious as to what there might be either for +Lady Niton or Miss Drake to see.</p> +<p>"Thank you very much," she said, trying to laugh it off. "It is +very kind of you to warn me--but really I don't think you need." +She looked round her waveringly.</p> +<p>"May I introduce you to my friend? Mrs. Colwood--Lady Niton." +For her glance of appeal had brought Mrs. Colwood to her aid, and +between them they coped with this <i>enfant terrible</i> among +dowagers till the gentlemen came in.</p> +<p>"Here is Sir James Childe," said Lady Niton, rising. "He wants +to talk to you, and he don't like me. So I'll go."</p> +<p>Sir James, not without a sly smile, discharged arrow-like at the +retreating enemy, took the seat she had vacated.</p> +<p>"This is your first visit to Tallyn, Miss Mallory?"</p> +<p>The voice speaking was the <i>voix d'or</i> familiar to +Englishmen in many a famous case, capable of any note, any +inflection, to which sarcasm or wrath, shrewdness or pathos, might +desire to tune it. In this case it was gentleness itself; and so +was the countenance he turned upon Diana. Yet it was a countenance +built rather for the sterner than the milder uses of life. A +natural majesty expressed itself in the domed forehead, and in the +fine head, lightly touched with gray; the eyes too were gray, the +lips prominent and sensitive, the face long, and, in line, finely +regular. A face of feeling and of power; the face of a Celt, +disciplined by the stress and conflict of a non-Celtic world. +Diana's young sympathies sprang to meet it, and they were soon in +easy conversation.</p> +<p>Sir James questioned her kindly, but discreetly. This was really +her first visit to Brookshire?</p> +<p>"To England!" said Diana; and then, on a little wooing, came out +the girl's first impressions, natural, enthusiastic, gay. Sir James +listened, with eyes half-closed, following every movement of her +lips, every gesture of head and hand.</p> +<p>"Your parents took you abroad quite as a child?"</p> +<p>"I went with my father. My mother died when I was quite +small."</p> +<p>Sir James did not speak for a moment. At last he said:</p> +<p>"But before you went abroad, you lived in London?"</p> +<p>"Yes--in Kensington Square."</p> +<p>Sir James made a sudden movement which displaced a book on a +little table beside him. He stooped to pick it up.</p> +<p>"And your father was tired of England?"</p> +<p>Diana hesitated--</p> +<p>"I--I think he had gone through great trouble. He never got over +mamma's death."</p> +<p>"Oh yes, I see," said Sir James, gently. Then, in another +tone:</p> +<p>"So you settled on that beautiful coast? I wonder if that was +the winter I first saw Italy?"</p> +<p>He named the year.</p> +<p>"Yes--that was the year," said Diana. "Had you never seen Italy +before that?" She looked at him in a little surprise.</p> +<p>"Do I seem to you so old?" said Sir James, smiling. "I had been +a very busy man, Miss Mallory, and my holidays had been generally +spent in Ireland. But that year"--he paused a moment--"that year I +had been ill, and the doctors sent me abroad--in October," he +added, slowly and precisely. "I went first to Paris, and I was at +Genoa in November."</p> +<p>"We must have been there--just about then! Mamma died in +October. And I remember the winter was just beginning at Genoa--it +was very cold--and I got bronchitis--I was only a little +thing."</p> +<p>"And Oliver tells me you found a home at Portofino?"</p> +<p>Diana replied. He kept her talking; yet her impression was that +he did not listen very much to what she said. At the same time she +felt herself <i>studied</i>, in a way which made her +self-conscious, which perhaps she might have resented in any man +less polished and less courteous.</p> +<p>"Pardon me--" he said, abruptly, at a pause in the conversation. +"Your name interests me particularly. It is Welsh, is it not? I +knew two or three persons of that name; and they were Welsh."</p> +<p>Diana's look changed a little.</p> +<p>"Yes, it is Welsh," she said, in a hesitating, reserved voice; +and then looked round her as though in search of a change of +topic.</p> +<p>Sir James bent forward.</p> +<p>"May I come and see you some day at Beechcote?"</p> +<p>Diana flushed with surprise and pleasure.</p> +<p>"Oh! I should be so honored!"</p> +<p>"The honor would be mine," he said, with pleasant deference. +"Now I think I see that Marsham is wroth with me for monopolizing +you like this."</p> +<p>He rose and walked away, just as Marsham brought up Mr. Barton +to introduce him to Diana.</p> +<p>Sir James wandered on into a small drawing-room at the end of +the long suite of rooms; in its seclusion he turned back to look at +the group he had left behind. His face, always delicately pale, had +grown strained and white.</p> +<p>"Is it <i>possible</i>"--he said to himself--"that she knows +nothing?--that that man was able to keep it all from her?"</p> +<p>He walked up and down a little by himself--pondering--the prey +of the same emotion as had seized him in the afternoon; till at +last his ear was caught by some hubbub, some agitation in the big +drawing-room, especially by the sound of the girlish voice he had +just been listening to, only speaking this time in quite another +key. He returned to see what was the matter.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He found Miss Mallory the centre of a circle of spectators and +listeners, engaged apparently in a three-cornered and very hot +discussion with Mr. Barton, the Socialist member, and Oliver +Marsham. Diana had entirely forgotten herself, her shyness, the +strange house, and all her alarms. If Lady Niton took nothing for +granted at Tallyn, that was not, it seemed, the case with John +Barton. He, on the contrary, took it for granted that everybody +there was at least a good Radical, and as stoutly opposed as +himself to the "wild-cat" and "Jingo" policy of the Government on +the Indian frontier, where one of our perennial little wars was +then proceeding. News had arrived that afternoon of an indecisive +engagement, in which the lives of three English officers and some +fifty men of a Sikh regiment had been lost. Mr. Barton, in taking +up the evening paper, lying beside Diana, which contained the news, +had made very much the remark foretold by Captain Roughsedge in the +afternoon. It was, he thought, a pity the repulse had not been more +decisive--so as to show all the world into what a hornet's nest the +Government was going--"and a hornet's nest which will cost us half +a million to take before we've done."</p> +<p>Diana's cheeks flamed. Did Mr. Barton mean to regret that no +more English lives had been lost?</p> +<p>Mr. Barton was of opinion that if the defeat had been a bit +worse, bloodshed might have been saved in the end. A Jingo Viceroy +and a Jingo press could only be stopped by disaster--</p> +<p>On the contrary, said Diana, we could not afford to be stopped +by disaster. Disaster must be retrieved.</p> +<p>Mr. Barton asked her--why? Were we never to admit that we were +in the wrong?</p> +<p>The Viceroy and his advisers, she declared, were not likely to +be wrong. And prestige had to be maintained.</p> +<p>At the word "prestige" the rugged face of the Labor member grew +contemptuous and a little angry. He dealt with it as he was +accustomed to deal with it in Socialist meetings or in Parliament. +His touch in doing so was neither light nor conciliatory; the young +lady, he thought, required plain speaking.</p> +<p>But so far from intimidating the young lady, he found in the +course of a few more thrusts and parries that he had roused a by no +means despicable antagonist. Diana was a mere mouth-piece; but she +was the mouth-piece of eye-witnesses; whereas Barton was the +mouth-piece of his daily newspaper and a handful of partisan books +written to please the political section to which he belonged.</p> +<p>He began to stumble and to make mistakes--gross elementary +mistakes in geography and fact--and there-with to lose his temper. +Diana was upon him in a moment--very cool and graceful--controlling +herself well; and it is probable that she would have won the day +triumphantly but for the sudden intervention of her host.</p> +<p>Oliver Marsham had been watching her with mingled amusement and +admiration. The slender figure held defiantly erect, the hands +close-locked on the knee, the curly head with the air of a +Niké--he could almost <i>see</i> the palm branch in the +hand, the white dress and the silky hair, blown back by the blasts +of victory!--appealed to a rhetorical element in his nature always +closely combined both with his feelings and his ambitions. Headlong +energy and partisanship--he was enchanted to find how beautiful +they could be, and he threw himself into the discussion simply--at +first--that he might prolong an emotion, might keep the red burning +on her lip and cheek. That blundering fellow Barton should not have +it all to himself!</p> +<p>But he was no sooner well in it than he too began to flounder. +He rode off upon an inaccurate telegram in a morning paper; Diana +fell upon it at once, tripped it up, exposed it, drove it from the +field, while Mr. Ferrier approved her from the background with a +smiling eye and a quietly applauding hand. Then Marsham quoted a +speech in the Indian Council.</p> +<p>Diana dismissed it with contempt, as the shaft of a +<i>frondeur</i> discredited by both parties. He fell back on Blue +Books, and other ponderosities--Barton by this time silent, or +playing a clumsy chorus. But if Diana was not acquainted with these +things in the ore, so to speak, she was more than a little +acquainted with the missiles that could be forged from them. That +very afternoon Hugh Roughsedge had pointed her to some of the best. +She took them up--a little wildly now--for her coolness was +departing--and for a time Marsham could hardly keep his +footing.</p> +<p>A good many listeners were by now gathered round the disputants. +Lady Niton, wielding some noisy knitting needles by the fireside, +was enjoying the fray all the more that it seemed to be telling +against Oliver. Mrs. Fotheringham, on the other hand, who came up +occasionally to the circle, listened and went away again, was +clearly seething with suppressed wrath, and had to be restrained +once or twice by her brother from interfering, in a tone which +would at once have put an end to a duel he himself only wished to +prolong.</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier perceived her annoyance, and smiled over it. In +spite of his long friendship with the family, Isabel Fotheringham +was no favorite with the great man. She had long seemed to him a +type--a strange and modern type--of the feminine fanatic who allows +political difference to interfere not only with private friendship +but with the nearest and most sacred ties; and his philosopher's +soul revolted. Let a woman talk politics, if she must, like this +eager idealist girl--not with the venom and gall of the +half-educated politician. "As if we hadn't enough of that +already!"</p> +<p>Other spectators paid more frivolous visits to the scene. Bobbie +Forbes and Alicia Drake, attracted by the sounds of war, looked in +from the next room. Forbes listened a moment, shrugged his +shoulders, made a whistling mouth, and then walked off to a glass +bookcase--the one sign of civilization in the vast room--where he +was soon absorbed in early editions of English poets, Lady Lucy's +inheritance from a literary father. Alicia moved about, a little +restless and scornful, now listening unwillingly, and now +attempting diversions. But in these she found no one to second her, +not even the two pink-and-white nieces of Lady Lucy, who did not +understand a word of what was going on, but were none the less +gazing open-mouthed at Diana.</p> +<p>Marion Vincent meanwhile had drawn nearer to Diana. Her strong +significant face wore a quiet smile; there was a friendly, even an +admiring penetration in the look with which she watched the young +prophetess of Empire and of War. As for Lady Lucy, she was silent, +and rather grave. In her secret mind she thought that young girls +should not be vehement or presumptuous. It was a misfortune that +this pretty creature had not been more reasonably brought up; a +mother's hand had been wanting. While not only Mr. Ferrier and Mrs. +Colwood, sitting side by side in the background, but everybody else +present, in some measure or degree, was aware of some play of +feeling in the scene, beyond and behind the obvious, some hidden +forces, or rather, perhaps, some emerging relation, which gave it +significance and thrill. The duel was a duel of brains--unequal at +that; what made it fascinating was the universal or typical element +in the clash of the two personalities--the man using his whole +strength, more and more tyrannously, more and more stubbornly--the +girl resisting, flashing, appealing, fighting for dear life, now +gaining, now retreating--and finally overborne.</p> +<p>For Marsham's staying powers, naturally, were the greater. He +summoned finally all his nerve and all his knowledge. The air of +the carpet-knight with which he had opened battle disappeared; he +fought seriously and for victory. And suddenly Diana laughed--a +little hysterically--and gave in. He had carried her into regions +of history and politics where she could not follow. She dropped her +head in her hands a moment--then fell back in her +chair--silenced--her beautiful passionate eyes fixed on Marsham, as +his were on her.</p> +<p>"Brava! Brava!" cried Mr. Ferrier, clapping his hands. The room +joined in laughter and applause.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>A few minutes later the ladies streamed out into the hall on +their way to bed. Marsham came to light a candle for Diana.</p> +<p>"Do you forgive me?" he said, as he gave it to her.</p> +<p>The tone was gay and apologetic.</p> +<p>She laughed unsteadily, without reply.</p> +<p>"When will you take your revenge?"</p> +<p>She shook her head, touched his hand for "good-night," and went +up-stairs.</p> +<p>As Diana reached her room she drew Mrs. Colwood in with her--but +not, it seemed, for purposes of conversation. She stood absently by +the fire taking off her bracelets and necklace. Mrs. Colwood made a +few remarks about the evening and the guests, with little response, +and presently wondered why she was detained. At last Diana put up +her hands, and smoothed back the hair from her temples with a long +sigh. Then she laid a sudden grasp upon Mrs. Colwood, and looked +earnestly and imploringly into her face.</p> +<p>"Will you--please--call me Diana? And--and--will you kiss +me?"</p> +<p>She humbly stooped her head. Mrs. Colwood, much touched, threw +her arms around her, and kissed her heartily. Then a few warm words +fell from her--as to the scene of the evening. Diana withdrew +herself at once, shivering a little.</p> +<p>"Oh, I want papa!" she said--"I want him so much!"</p> +<p>And she hid her eyes against the mantel-piece.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood soothed her affectionately, perhaps expecting some +outburst of confidence, which, however, did not come. Diana said a +quiet "good-night," and they parted.</p> +<p>But it was long before Mrs. Colwood could sleep. Was the emotion +she had just witnessed--flinging itself geyserlike into sight, only +to sink back as swiftly out of ken--was it an effect of the past or +an omen of the future? The longing expressed in the girl's heart +and voice, after the brave show she had made--had it overpowered +her just because she felt herself alone, without natural +protectors, on the brink of her woman's destiny?</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> +<p>The next day, when Diana looked out from her window, she saw a +large and dreary park wrapped in scudding rain which promised evil +things for the shooting-party of the day. Mr. Marsham senior had +apparently laid out his park and grounds on the same principles as +those on which he had built his house. Everything was large and +expensive. The woods and plantations were kept to a nicety; not a +twig was out of place. Enormous cost had been incurred in the +planting of rare evergreens; full-grown trees had been transplanted +wholesale from a distance, and still wore in many cases a sickly +and invalided air; and elaborate contrasts in dark and light +foliage had been arranged by the landscape-gardener employed. Dark +plantations had a light border--light plantations a dark one. A +lake or large pond, with concrete banks and two artificial islands, +held the centre of the park, and on the monotonous stretches of +immaculate grass there were deer to be seen wherever anybody could +reasonably expect them.</p> +<p>Diana surveyed it all with a lively dislike. She pitied Lady +Lucy and Mr. Marsham because they must live in such a place. +Especially, surely, must it be hampering and disconcerting to a +man, preaching the democratic gospel, and looking forward to the +democratic millennium, to be burdened with a house and estate which +could offer so few excuses for the wealth of which they made an +arrogant and uninviting display. Immense possessions and lavish +expenditure may be, as we all know, so softened by antiquity, or so +masked by taste, as not to jar with ideals the most different or +remote. But here "proputty! proputty!" was the cry of every ugly +wood and tasteless shrubbery, whereas the prospective owner of +them, according to his public utterances and career, was +magnificently careless of property--was, in fact, in the eyes of +the lovers of property, its enemy. The house again spoke loudly and +aggressively of money; yet it was the home of a champion of the +poor.</p> +<p>Well--a man cannot help it, if his father has suffered from +stupidity and bad taste; and encumbrances of this kind are more +easily created than got rid of. No doubt Oliver Marsham's +democratic opinions had been partly bred in him by opposition and +recoil. Diana seemed to get a good deal of rather comforting light +on the problem by looking at it from this point of view.</p> +<p>Indeed, she thought over it persistently while she dressed. From +the normal seven-hours' sleep of youth she had awakened with braced +nerves. To remember her duel of the night before was no longer to +thrill with an excitement inexplicable even to herself, and +strangely mingled with a sense of loneliness or foreboding. Under +the morning light she looked at things more sanely. Her natural +vanity, which was the reflection of her wish to please, told her +that she had not done badly. She felt a childish pleasure in the +memory of Mr. Barton's discomfiture; and as to Mr. Marsham, it was +she, and not her beliefs, not the great Imperial "cause" which had +been beaten. How could she expect to hold her own with the +professional politician when it came really to business? In her +heart of hearts she knew that she would have despised Oliver +Marsham if he had not been able to best her in argument. "If it had +been papa," she thought, proudly, "that would have been another +story!"</p> +<p>Nevertheless, as she sat meekly under the hands of her maid, +smiles "went out and in," as she remembered the points where she +had pressed him hard, had almost overcome him. An inclination to +measure herself with him again danced within her. Will against +will, mind against mind--her temperament, in its morning rally, +delighted in the thought. And all the time there hovered before her +the living man, with his agreeable, energetic, challenging +presence. How much better she had liked him, even in his victory of +the evening, than in the carping sarcastic mood of the +afternoon!</p> +<p>In spite of gayety and expectation, however, she felt her +courage fail her a little as she left her room and ventured out +into the big populous house. Her solitary bringing-up had made her +liable to fits of shyness amid her general expansiveness, and it +was a relief to meet no one--least of all, Alicia Drake--on her way +down-stairs. Mrs. Colwood, indeed, was waiting for her at the end +of the passage, and Diana held her hand a little as they +descended.</p> +<p>A male voice was speaking in the hall--Mr. Marsham giving the +last directions for the day to the head keeper. The voice was sharp +and peremptory--too peremptory, one might have thought, for +democracy addressing a brother. But the keeper, a gray-haired, +weather-beaten man of fifty, bowed himself out respectfully, and +Marsham turned to greet Diana. Mrs. Colwood saw the kindling of his +eyes as they fell on the girl's morning freshness. No sharpness in +the voice now!--he was all eagerness to escort and serve his +guests.</p> +<p>He led them to the breakfast-room, which seemed to be in an +uproar, caused apparently by Bobbie Forbes and Lady Niton, who were +talking at each other across the table.</p> +<p>"What is the matter?" asked Diana, as she slipped into a place +to which Sir James Chide smilingly invited her--between himself and +Mr. Bobbie.</p> +<p>Sir James, making a pretence of shutting his ears against the +din, replied that he believed Mr. Forbes was protesting against the +tyranny of Lady Niton in obliging him to go to church.</p> +<p>"She never enters a place of worship herself, but she insists +that her young men friends shall go.--Mr. Bobbie is putting his +foot down!"</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory, let me get you some fish," said Forbes, turning +to her with a flushed and determined countenance. "I have now +vindicated the rights of man, and am ready to attend--if you will +allow me--to the wants of woman. Fish?--or bacon?"</p> +<p>Diana made her choice, and the young man supplied her; then +bristling with victory, and surrounded by samples of whatever food +the breakfast-table afforded, he sat down to his own meal. "No!" he +said, with energy, addressing Diana. "One must really draw the +line. The last Sunday Lady Niton took me to church, the service +lasted an hour and three-quarters. I am a High Churchman--I vow I +am--an out-and-outer. I go in for snippets--and shortening things. +The man here is a dreadful old Erastian--piles on everything you +can pile on--so I just felt it necessary to give Lady Niton notice. +To-morrow I have work for the department--<i>at home!</i> Take my +advice, Miss Mallory--don't go."</p> +<p>"I'm not staying over Sunday," smiled Diana.</p> +<p>The young man expressed his regret. "I say," he said, with a +quick look round, "you didn't think I was rude last night, did +you?"</p> +<p>"Rude? When?"</p> +<p>"In not listening. I can't listen when people talk politics. I +want to drown myself. Now, if it was poetry--or something +reasonable. You know the only things worth looking at--in this +beastly house"--he lowered his voice--"are the books in that glass +bookcase. It was Lady Lucy's father--old Lord Merston--collected +them. Lady Lucy never looks at them. Marsham does, I +suppose--sometimes. Do you know Marsham well?"</p> +<p>"I made acquaintance with him and Lady Lucy on the Riviera."</p> +<p>Mr. Bobbie observed her with a shrewd eye. In spite of his +inattention of the night before, the interest of Miss Mallory's +appearance upon the scene at Tallyn had not been lost upon him, any +more than upon other people. The rumor had preceded her arrival +that Marsham had been very much "smitten" with her amid the pine +woods of Portofino. Marsham's taste was good--emphatically good. At +the same time it was clear that the lady was no mere facile and +commonplace girl. It was Forbes's opinion, based on the scene of +the previous evening, that there might be a good deal of wooing to +be done.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"There are so many things I wanted to show you--and to talk +about!" said Oliver Marsham, confidentially, to Diana, in the hall +after breakfast--"but this horrid shoot will take up all the day! +If the weather is not too bad, I think some of the ladies meant to +join us at luncheon. Will you venture?"</p> +<p>His tone was earnest; his eyes indorsed it. Diana hoped it might +be possible to come. Marsham lingered beside her to the last +minute; but presently final orders had to be given to keepers, and +country neighbors began to arrive.</p> +<p>"They do the thing here on an enormous scale," said Bobbie +Forbes, lounging and smoking beside Diana; "it's almost the biggest +shoot in the county. Amusing, isn't it?--in this Radical house. Do +you see that man McEwart?"</p> +<p>Diana turned her attention upon the young member of Parliament +who had arrived the night before--plain, sandy-haired, with a long +flat-backed head, and a gentlemanly manner.</p> +<p>"I suspect a good deal's going on here behind the scenes," said +Bobbie, dropping his voice. "That man Barton may be a fool to talk, +but he's a great power in the House with the other Labor men. And +McEwart has been hand and glove with Marsham all this Session. +They're trying to force Ferrier's hand. Some Bill the Labor men +want--and Ferrier won't hear of. A good many people say we shall +see Marsham at the head of a Fourth Party of his own very soon, +<i>Se soumettre, ou se démettre!</i>--well, it may come to +that--for old Ferrier. But I'll back him to fight his way +through."</p> +<p>"How can Mr. Marsham oppose him?" asked Diana, in wonder, and +some indignation with her companion. "He is the Leader of the +party, and besides--they are such friends!"</p> +<p>Forbes looked rather amused at her womanish view of things. +"Friends? I should rather think so!"</p> +<p>By this time he and Diana were strolling up and down the winter +garden opening out of the hall, which was now full of a merry crowd +waiting for the departure of the shooters. Suddenly Forbes +paused.</p> +<p>"Do you see that?"</p> +<p>Diana's eyes followed his till they perceived Lady Lucy sitting +a little way off under a camellia-tree covered with red blossom. +Her lap was heaped with the letters of the morning. Mr. Ferrier, +with a cigarette in his mouth, stood beside her, reading the sheets +of a letter which she handed to him as she herself finished them. +Every now and then she spoke to him, and he replied. In the little +scene, between the slender white-haired woman and the middle-aged +man, there was something so intimate, so conjugal even, that Diana +involuntarily turned away as though to watch it were an +impertinence.</p> +<p>"Rather touching, isn't it?" said the youth, smiling +benevolently. "Of course you know--there's a romance, or rather +<i>was</i>--long ago. My mother knew all about it. Since old +Marsham's death, Lady Lucy's never done a thing without Ferrier to +advise her. Why she hasn't married him, that's the puzzle.--But +she's a curious woman, is Lady Lucy. Looks so soft, but--" He +pursed up his lips with an important air.</p> +<p>"Anyhow, she depends a lot on Ferrier. He's constantly here +whenever he can be spared from London and Parliament. He got Oliver +into Parliament--his first seat I mean--for Manchester. The +Ferriers are very big people up there, and old Ferrier's +recommendation of him just put him in straight--no trouble about +it! Oh! and before that when he was at Eton--and Oxford +too--Ferrier looked after him like a father.--Used to have him up +for exeats--and talk to the Head--and keep his mother +straight--like an old brick. Ferrier's a splendid chap!"</p> +<p>Diana warmly agreed.</p> +<p>"Perhaps you know," pursued the chatterbox, "that this place is +all hers--Lady Lucy's. She can leave it and her money exactly as +she pleases. It is to be hoped she won't leave much of it to Mrs. +Fotheringham. <i>Isn't</i> that a woman! Ah! you don't know her +yet. Hullo!--there's Marsham after me."</p> +<p>For Marsham was beckoning from the hall. They returned +hurriedly.</p> +<p>"Who made Oliver that waistcoat?" said Lady Niton, putting on +her spectacles.</p> +<p>"I did," said Alicia Drake, as she came up, with her arm round +the younger of Lady Niton's nieces. "Isn't it becoming?"</p> +<p>"Hum!" said Lady Niton, in a gruff tone, "young ladies can +always find new ways of wasting their time."</p> +<p>Marsham approached Diana.</p> +<p>"We're just off," he said, smiling. "The clouds are lifting. +You'll come?"</p> +<p>"What, to lunch?" said Lady Niton, just behind. "Of course they +will. What else is there for the women to do? Congratulate you on +your waistcoat, Oliver."</p> +<p>"Isn't it superb?" he said, drawing himself up with mock +majesty, so as to show it off. "I am Alicia's debtor for life."</p> +<p>Yet a careful ear might have detected something a little hollow +in the tone.</p> +<p>Lady Niton looked at him, and then at Miss Drake, evidently +restraining her sharp tongue for once, though with difficulty. +Marsham lingered a moment making some last arrangements for the day +with his sister. Diana noticed that he towered over the men among +whom he stood; and she felt herself suddenly delighting in his +height, in his voice which was remarkably refined and agreeable, in +his whole capable and masterful presence. Bobbie Forbes standing +beside him was dwarfed to insignificance, and he seemed to be +conscious of it, for he rose on his toes a little, involuntarily +copying Marsham's attitude, and looking up at him.</p> +<p>As the shooters departed, Forbes bringing up the rear, Lady +Niton laid her wrinkled hand on his arm.</p> +<p>"Never mind, Bobbie, never mind!"--she smiled at him +confidentially. "We can't all be six foot."</p> +<p>Bobbie stared at her--first fiercely--then exploded with +laughter, shook off her hand and departed.</p> +<p>Lady Niton, evidently much pleased with herself, came back to +the window where most of the other ladies stood watching the +shooters with their line of beaters crossing the lawn toward the +park beyond. "Ah!" she said, "I thought Alicia would see the last +of them!"</p> +<p>For Miss Drake, in defiance of wind and spitting rain, was +walking over the lawn the centre of a large group, with Marsham +beside her. Her white serge dress and the blue shawl she had thrown +over her fair head made a brilliant spot in the dark wavering +line.</p> +<p>"Alicia is very picturesque," said Mrs. Fotheringham, turning +away.</p> +<p>"Yes--and last summer Oliver seemed to be well aware of it," +said Lady Niton, in her ear.</p> +<p>"Was he? He has always been very good friends with Alicia."</p> +<p>"He could have done without the waistcoat," said Lady Niton, +sharply.</p> +<p>"Aren't you rather unkind? She began it last summer, and +finished it yesterday. Then, of course, she presented it to him. I +don't see why that should expose her to remarks."</p> +<p>"One can't help making remarks about Alicia," said Lady Niton, +calmly, "and she can defend herself so well."</p> +<p>"Poor Alicia!"</p> +<p>"Confess you wouldn't like Oliver to marry her."</p> +<p>"Oliver never had any thought of it."</p> +<p>Lady Niton shook her queer gray head.</p> +<p>"Oliver paid her a good deal of attention last summer. Alicia +must certainly have considered the matter. And she is a young lady +not easily baffled."</p> +<p>"Baffled!" Mrs. Fotheringham laughed. "What can she do?"</p> +<p>"Well, it's true that Oliver seems to have got another idea in +his head. What do you think of that pretty child who came +yesterday--the Mallory girl?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham hesitated, then said, coldly:</p> +<p>"I don't like discussing these things. Oliver has plenty of time +before him."</p> +<p>"If he is turning his thoughts in that quarter," persisted Lady +Niton, "I give him my blessing. Well bred, handsome, and well +off--what's your objection?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham laughed impatiently. "Really, Lady Niton, I +made no objection."</p> +<p>"You don't like her!"</p> +<p>"I have only known her twenty-four hours. How can I have formed +any opinion about her?"</p> +<p>"No--you don't like her! I suppose you thought she talked stuff +last night?"</p> +<p>"Well, there can be no two opinions about that!" cried Mrs. +Fotheringham. "Her father seems to have filled her head with all +sorts of false Jingo notions, and I must say I wondered Oliver was +so patient with her."</p> +<p>Lady Niton glanced at the thin fanatical face of the +speaker.</p> +<p>"Oliver had great difficulty in holding his own. She is no fool, +and you'll find it out, Isabel, if you try to argue her down--"</p> +<p>"I shouldn't dream of arguing with such a child!"</p> +<p>"Well, all I know is Ferrier seemed to admire her +performance."</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham paused a moment, then said, with harsh +intensity:</p> +<p>"Men have not the same sense of responsibility."</p> +<p>"You mean their brains are befogged by a pretty face?"</p> +<p>"They don't put non-essentials aside, as we do. A girl like +that, in love with what she calls 'glory' and 'prestige,' is a +dangerous and demoralizing influence. That glorification of the +Army is at the root of half our crimes!"</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham's pale skin had flushed till it made one red +with her red hair. Lady Niton looked at her with mingled amusement +and irritation. She wondered why men married such women as Isabel +Fotheringham. Certainly Ned Fotheringham himself--deceased some +three years before this date--had paid heavily for his mistake; +especially through the endless disputes which had arisen between +his children and his second wife--partly on questions of religion, +partly on this matter of the Army. Mrs. Fotheringham was an +agnostic; her stepsons, the children of a devout mother, were +churchmen. Influenced, moreover, by a small coterie, in which, to +the dismay of her elderly husband, she had passed most of her early +married years, she detested the Army as a brutal influence on the +national life. Her youngest step-son, however, had insisted on +becoming a soldier. She broke with him, and with his brothers who +supported him. Now a childless widow, without ties and moderately +rich, she was free to devote herself to her ideas. In former days +she would have been a religious bigot of the first water; the +bigotry was still there; only the subjects of it were changed.</p> +<p>Lady Niton delighted in attacking her; yet was not without a +certain respect for her. Old sceptic that she was, ideals of any +sort imposed upon her. How people came by them, she herself could +never imagine.</p> +<p>On this particular morning, however, Mrs. Fotheringham did not +allow herself as long a wrangle as usual with her old adversary. +She went off, carrying an armful of letters with large enclosures, +and Lady Niton understood that for the rest of the morning she +would be as much absorbed by her correspondence--mostly on public +questions--as the Leader of the Opposition himself, to whom the +library was sacredly given up.</p> +<p>"When that woman takes a dislike," she thought to herself, "it +sticks! She has taken a dislike to the Mallory girl. Well, if +Oliver wants her, let him fight for her. I hope she won't drop into +his mouth! Mallory! Mallory! I wonder where she comes from, and who +her people are."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile Diana was sitting among her letters, which mainly +concerned the last details of the Beechcote furnishing. She and +Mrs. Colwood were now "Muriel" and "Diana" to each other, and Mrs. +Colwood had been admitted to a practical share in Diana's small +anxieties.</p> +<p>Suddenly Diana, who had just opened a hitherto unread letter, +exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Oh, but <i>how</i> delightful!"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood looked up; Diana's aspect was one of sparkling +pleasure and surprise.</p> +<p>"One of my Barbadoes' cousins is here--in London--actually in +London--and I knew nothing of her coming. She writes to me.--Of +course she must come to Beechcote--she must come at once!"</p> +<p>She sprang up, and went to a writing-table near, to look for a +telegraph form. She wrote a message with eagerness, despatched it, +and then explained as coherently as her evident emotion and +excitement would allow.</p> +<p>"They are my only relations in the world--that I know of--that +papa ever spoke to me about. Mamma's sister married Mr. Merton. He +was a planter in Barbadoes. He died about three years ago, but his +widow and daughters have lived on there. They were very poor and +couldn't afford to come home. Fanny is the eldest--I think she must +be about twenty."</p> +<p>Diana paced up and down, with her hands behind her, wondering +when her telegram would reach her cousin, who was staying at a +London boarding-house, when she might be expected at Beechcote, how +long she could be persuaded to stay--speculations, in fact, +innumerable. Her agitation was pathetic in Mrs. Colwood's eyes. It +testified to the girl's secret sense of forlornness, to her natural +hunger for the ties and relationships other girls possessed in such +abundance.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood inquired if it was long since she had had news of +her cousins.</p> +<p>"Oh, some years!" said Diana, vaguely. "I remember a letter +coming--before we went to the East--and papa reading it. I +know"--she hesitated--"I know he didn't like Mr. Merton."</p> +<p>She stood still a moment, thinking. The lights and shadows of +reviving memory crossed her face, and presently her thought +emerged, with very little hint to her companion of the course it +had been taking out of sight.</p> +<p>"Papa always thought it a horrid life for them--Aunt Merton and +the girls--especially after they gave up their estate and came to +live in the town. But how could they help it? They must have been +very poor. Fanny"--she took up the letter--"Fanny says she has come +home to learn music and French--that she may earn money by teaching +when she goes back. She doesn't write very well, does she?"</p> +<p>She held out the sheet.</p> +<p>The handwriting, indeed, was remarkably illiterate, and Mrs. +Colwood could only say that probably a girl of Miss Merton's +circumstances had had few advantages.</p> +<p>"But then, you see, we'll <i>give</i> her advantages!" cried +Diana, throwing herself down at Mrs. Colwood's feet, and beginning +to plan aloud.--"You know if she will only stay with us, we can +easily have people down from London for lessons. And she can have +the green bedroom--over the dining-room--can't she?--and the +library to practise in. It would be absurd that she should stay in +London, at a horrid boarding-house, when there's Beechcote, +wouldn't it?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood agreed that Beechcote would probably be quite +convenient for Miss Merton's plans. If she felt a little pang at +the thought that her pleasant <i>tête-à-tête</i> +with her new charge was to be so soon interrupted, and for an +indefinite period, by a young lady with the hand-writing of a +scullery-maid, she kept it entirely hidden.</p> +<p>Diana talked herself into the most rose-colored plans for Fanny +Merton's benefit--so voluminous, indeed, that Mrs. Colwood had to +leave her in the middle of them that she might go up-stairs and +mend a rent in her walking-dress. Diana was left alone in the +drawing-room, still smiling and dreaming. In her impulsive +generosity she saw herself as the earthly providence of her cousin, +sharing with a dear kinswoman her own unjustly plentiful +well-being.</p> +<p>Then she took up the letter again. It ran thus:</p> +<blockquote>"My dear Diana,--You mustn't think it cheeky my calling +you that, but I am your real cousin, and mother told me to write to +you. I hope too you won't be ashamed of us though we are poor. +Everybody knows us in Barbadoes, though of course that's not +London. I am the eldest of the family, and I got very tired of +living all in a pie, and so I've come home to England to better +myself.--A year ago I was engaged to be married, but the young man +behaved badly. A good riddance, all my friends told me--but it +wasn't a pleasant experience. Anyway now I want to earn some money, +and see the world a little. I have got rather a good voice, and I +am considered handsome--at least smart-looking. If you are not too +grand to invite me to your place, I should like to come and see +you, but of course you must do as you please. I got your address +from the bank Uncle Mallory used to send us checks on. I can tell +you we have missed those checks pretty badly this last year. I hope +you have now got over your great sorrow.--This boarding-house is +horribly poky but cheap, which is the great thing. I arrived the +night before last,<br> +<br> +"And I am<br> + Your affectionate cousin<br> + FANNY +MERTON."</blockquote> +<br> +<p>No, it really was not an attractive letter. On the second +reading, Diana pushed it away from her, rather hastily. Then she +reminded herself again, elaborately, of the Mertons' disadvantages +in life, painting them in imagination as black as possible. And +before she had gone far with this process all doubt and distaste +were once more swept away by the rush of yearning, of an interest +she could not subdue, in this being of her own flesh and blood, the +child of her mother's sister. She sat with flushed cheeks, absorbed +in a stream of thoughts and reminiscence.</p> +<p>"You look as though you had had good news," said Sir James +Chide, as he paused beside her on his way through the drawing-room. +He was not a sportsman; nor was Mr. Ferrier.</p> +<p>His eyes rested upon her with such a kind interest, his manner +showed so plainly yet again that he desired to be her friend, that +Diana responded at once.</p> +<p>"I have found a cousin!" she said, gayly, and told the story of +her expected visitor.</p> +<p>Outwardly--perfunctorily--Sir James's aspect while she was +speaking answered to hers. If she was pleased, he was pleased too. +He congratulated her; he entered into her schemes for Miss Merton's +amusement. Really, all the time, the man's aspect was singularly +grave, he listened carefully to every word; he observed the +speaker.</p> +<p>"The young lady's mother is your aunt?"</p> +<p>"She was my mother's sister."</p> +<p>"And they have been long in Barbadoes?"</p> +<p>"I think they migrated there just about the same time we went +abroad--after my mother's death."</p> +<p>Sir James said little. He encouraged her to talk on; he listened +to the phrases of memory or expectation which revealed her +history--her solitary bringing-up--her reserved and scholarly +father--the singular closeness, and yet as it seemed strangeness of +her relation to him. It appeared, for instance, that it was only an +accident, some years before, which had revealed to Diana the very +existence of these cousins. Her father had never spoken of them +spontaneously.</p> +<p>"I hope she will be everything that is charming and delightful," +he said at last as he rose. "And remember--I am to come and see +you!"</p> +<p>He stooped his gray head, and gently touched her hand with an +old man's freedom.</p> +<p>Diana warmly renewed her invitation.</p> +<p>"There is a house near you that I often go to--Sir William +Felton's. I am to be there in a few weeks. Perhaps I shall even be +able to make acquaintance with Miss Fanny!"</p> +<p>He walked away from her.</p> +<p>Diana could not see the instant change of countenance which +accompanied the movement. Urbanity, gentleness, kind indulgence +vanished. Sir James looked anxious and disturbed; and he seemed to +be talking to himself.</p> +<p>The rest of the morning passed heavily. Diana wrote some +letters, and devoutly hoped the rain would stop. In the intervals +of her letter-writing, or her study of the clouds, she tried to +make friends with Miss Drake and Mrs. Fotheringham. But neither +effort came to good. Alicia, so expansive, so theatrical, so much +the centre of the situation, when she chose, could be equally +prickly, monosyllabic, and repellent when it suited her to be so. +Diana talked timidly of dress, of London, and the Season. They were +the subjects on which it seemed most natural to approach Miss +Drake; Diana's attitude was inquiring and propitiatory. But Alicia +could find none but careless or scanty replies till Madeleine +Varley came up. Then Miss Drake's tongue was loosened. To her, as +to an equal and intimate, she displayed her expert knowledge of +shops and <i>modistes</i>, of "people" and their stories. Diana sat +snubbed and silent, a little provincial outsider, for whom +"seasons" are not made. Nor was it any better with Mrs. +Fotheringham. At twelve o'clock that lady brought the London papers +into the drawing-room. Further information had been received from +the Afghan frontier. The English loss in the engagement already +reported was greater than had been at first supposed; and Diana +found the name of an officer she had known in India among the dead. +As she pondered the telegram, the tears in her eyes, she heard Mrs. +Fotheringham describe the news as "on the whole very satisfactory." +The nation required the lesson. Whereupon Diana's tongue was loosed +and would not be quieted. She dwelt hotly on the "sniping," the +treacheries, the midnight murders which had preceded the +expedition, Mrs. Fotheringham listened to her with flashing looks, +and suddenly she broke into a denunciation of war, the military +spirit, and the ignorant and unscrupulous persons at home, +especially women, who aid and abet politicians in violence and +iniquity, the passion of which soon struck Diana dumb. Here was no +honorable fight of equal minds. She was being punished for her +advocacy of the night before, by an older woman of tyrannical +temper, toward whom she stood in the relation of guest to host. It +was in vain to look round for defenders. The only man present was +Mr. Barton, who sat listening with ill-concealed smiles to what was +going on, without taking part in it.</p> +<p>Diana extricated herself with as much dignity as she could +muster, but she was too young to take the matter philosophically. +She went up-stairs burning with anger, the tears of hurt feeling in +her eyes. It seemed to her that Mrs. Fotheringham's attack implied +a personal dislike; Mr. Marsham's sister had been glad to "take it +out of her." To this young cherished creature it was almost her +first experience of the kind.</p> +<p>On the way up-stairs she paused to look wistfully out of a +staircase window. Still raining--alack! She thought with longing of +the open fields, and the shooters. Was there to be no escape all +day from the ugly oppressive house, and some of its inmates? Half +shyly, yet with a quickening of the heart, she remembered Marsham's +farewell to her of that morning, his look of the night before. +Intellectually, she was comparatively mature; in other respects, as +inexperienced and impressionable as any convent girl.</p> +<p>"I fear luncheon is impossible!" said Lady Lucy's voice.</p> +<p>Diana looked up and saw her descending the stairs.</p> +<p>"Such a pity! Oliver will be so disappointed."</p> +<p>She paused beside her guest--an attractive and distinguished +figure. On her white hair she wore a lace cap which was tied very +precisely under her delicate chin. Her dress, of black satin, was +made in a full plain fashion of her own; she had long since ceased +to allow her dressmaker any voice in it; and her still beautiful +hands flashed with diamonds, not however in any vulgar profusion. +Lady Lucy's mother had been of a Quaker family, and though +Quakerism in her had been deeply alloyed with other metals, the +moral and intellectual self-dependence of Quakerism, its fastidious +reserves and discrimination were very strong in her. Discrimination +indeed was the note of her being. For every Christian, some +Christian precepts are obsolete. For Lady Lucy that which +runs--"Judge Not!"--had never been alive.</p> +<p>Her emphatic reference to Marsham had brought the ready color to +Diana's cheeks.</p> +<p>"Yes--there seems no chance!--" she said, shyly, and +regretfully, as the rain beat on the window.</p> +<p>"Oh, dear me, yes!" said a voice behind them. "The glass is +going up. It'll be a fine afternoon--and we'll go and meet them at +Holme Copse. Sha'n't we, Lady Lucy?"</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier appeared, coming up from the library laden with +papers. The three stood chatting together on the broad gallery +which ran round the hall. The kindness of the two elders was so +marked that Diana's spirits returned; she was not to be quite a +pariah it seemed! As she walked away toward her room, Mr. Ferrier's +eyes pursued her--the slim round figure, the young loveliness of +her head and neck.</p> +<p>"Well!--what are you thinking about her?" he said, eagerly, +turning to the mistress of the house.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy smiled.</p> +<p>"I should prefer it if she didn't talk politics," she said, with +the slightest possible stiffness, "But she seems a very charming +girl."</p> +<p>"She talks politics, my dear lady, because living alone with her +father and with her books, she has had nothing else to talk about +but politics and books. Would you rather she talked scandal--or +Monte Carlo?"</p> +<p>The Quaker in Lady Lucy laughed.</p> +<p>"Of course if she married Oliver, she would subordinate her +opinions to his."</p> +<p>"Would she!" said Mr. Ferrier--"I'm not so sure!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy replied that if not, it would be calamitous. In which +she spoke sincerely. For although now the ruler, and, if the truth +were known, the somewhat despotic ruler of Tallyn, in her husband's +lifetime she had known very well how to obey.</p> +<p>"I have asked various people about the Mallorys," she resumed. +"But nobody seems to be able to tell me anything."</p> +<p>"I trace her to Sir Thomas of that ilk. Why not? It is a Welsh +name!"</p> +<p>"I have no idea who her mother was," said Lady Lucy, musing. +"Her father was very refined--<i>quite</i> a gentleman."</p> +<p>"She bears, I think, very respectable witness to her mother," +laughed Ferrier. "Good stock on both sides; she carries it in her +face."</p> +<p>"That's all I ask," said Lady Lucy, quietly.</p> +<p>"But that you <i>do</i> ask!" Her companion looked at her with +an eye half affectionate, half ironic. "Most exclusive of women! I +sometimes wish I might unveil your real opinions to the Radical +fellows who come here."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy colored faintly.</p> +<p>"That has nothing to do with politics."</p> +<p>"Hasn't it? I can't imagine anything that has more to do with +them."</p> +<p>"I was thinking of character--honorable tradition--not +blood."</p> +<p>Ferrier shook his head.</p> +<p>"Won't do. Barton wouldn't pass you--'A man's a man for a' +that'--and a woman too."</p> +<p>"Then I am a Tory!" said Lady Lucy, with a smile that shot +pleasantly through her gray eyes.</p> +<p>"At last you confess it!" cried Ferrier, as he carried off his +papers. But his gayety soon departed. He stood awhile at the window +in his room, looking out upon the sodden park--a rather gray and +sombre figure. Over his ugly impressiveness a veil of weariness had +dropped. Politics and the strife of parties, the devices of enemies +and the dissatisfaction of friends--his soul was tired of them. And +the emergence of this possible love-affair--for the moment, ardent +and deep as were the man's affections and sympathies, toward this +Marsham household, it did but increase his sense of moral fatigue. +If the flutter in the blood--and the long companionship of equal +love--if these were the only things of real value in life--how had +<i>his</i> been worth living?</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> +<p>The last covert had been shot, and as Marsham and his party, +followed by scattered groups of beaters, turned homeward over the +few fields that separated them from the park, figures appeared +coming toward them in the rosy dusk--Mr. Ferrier and Diana in +front, with most of the other guests of the house in their train. +There was a merry fraternization between the two parties--a +characteristic English scene, in a characteristic setting: the men +in their tweed shooting-suits, some with their guns over their +shoulders, for the most part young and tall, clean-limbed and +clear-eyed, the well-to-do Englishman at his most English moment, +and brimming with the joy of life; the girls dressed in the same +tweed stuffs, and with the same skilled and expensive simplicity, +but wearing, some of them, over their cloth caps, bright veils, +white or green or blue, which were tied under their chins, and +framed faces aglow with exercise and health.</p> +<p>Marsham's eyes flew to Diana, who was in black, with a white +veil. Some of the natural curls on her temples, which reminded him +of a Vandyck picture, had been a little blown by the wind across +her beautiful brow; he liked the touch of wildness that they gave; +and he was charmed anew by the contrast between her frank young +strength, and the wistful look, so full of <i>relation</i> to all +about it, as though seeking to understand and be one with it. He +perceived too her childish pleasure in each fresh incident and +experience of the English winter, which proved to her anew that she +had come home; and he flattered himself, as he went straight to her +side, that his coming had at least no dimming effect on the +radiance that had been there before.</p> +<p>"I believe you are not pining for the Mediterranean!" he said, +laughing, as they walked on together.</p> +<p>In a smiling silence she drew in a great breath of the frosty +air while her eyes ranged along the chalk down, on the western edge +of which they were walking, and then over the plain at their feet, +the smoke wreaths that hung above the villages, the western sky +filled stormily with the purples and grays and crimsons of the +sunset, the woods that climbed the down, or ran in a dark rampart +along its crest.</p> +<p>"No one can ever love it as much as I do!"--she said at +last--"because I have been an exile. That will be my advantage +always."</p> +<p>"Your compensation--perhaps."</p> +<p>"Mrs. Colwood puts it that way. Only I don't like having my +grievance taken away."</p> +<p>"Against whom?"</p> +<p>"Ah! not against papa!" she said, hurriedly--"against Fate!"</p> +<p>"If you dislike being deprived of a grievance--so do I. You have +returned me my Rossetti."</p> +<p>She laughed merrily.</p> +<p>"You made sure I should lose or keep it?"</p> +<p>"It is the first book that anybody has returned to me for years. +I was quite resigned."</p> +<p>"To a damaging estimate of my character? Thank you very +much!"</p> +<p>"I wonder"--he said, in another tone--"what sort of estimate you +have of <i>my</i> character--false, or true?"</p> +<p>"Well, there have been a great many surprises!" said Diana, +raising her eyebrows.</p> +<p>"In the matter of my character?"</p> +<p>"Not altogether."</p> +<p>"My surroundings? You mean I talked Radicalism--or, as you would +call it, Socialism--to you at Portofino, and here you find me in +the character of a sporting Squire?"</p> +<p>"I hear"--she said, deliberately looking about her--"that this +is the finest shoot in the county."</p> +<p>"It is. There is no denying it. But, in the first place, it's my +mother's shoot, not mine--the estate is hers, not mine--and she +wishes old customs to be kept up. In the next--well, of course, the +truth is that I like it abominably!"</p> +<p>He had thrust his cap into his pocket, and was walking +bareheaded. In the glow of the evening air his strong manhood +seemed to gain an added force and vitality. He moved beside her, +magnified and haloed, as it were, by the dusk and the sunset. Yet +his effect upon her was no mere physical effect of good looks and a +fine stature. It was rather the effect of a personality which +strangely fitted with and evoked her own--of that congruity, +indeed, from which all else springs.</p> +<p>She laughed at his confession.</p> +<p>"I hear also that you are the best shot in the +neighborhood."</p> +<p>"Who has been talking to you about me?" he asked, with a slight +knitting of the brows.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ferrier--a little."</p> +<p>He gave an impatient sigh, so disproportionate to the tone of +their conversation, that Diana looked at him in sudden +surprise.</p> +<p>"Haven't you often wondered how it is that the very people who +know you best know you least?"</p> +<p>The question was impetuously delivered. Diana recalled Mr. +Forbes's remarks as to dissensions behind the scenes. She stepped +cautiously.</p> +<p>"I thought Mr. Ferrier knew everything!"</p> +<p>"I wish he knew something about his party--and the House of +Commons!" cried Marsham, as though a passion within leaped to the +surface.</p> +<p>The startled eyes beside him beguiled him further.</p> +<p>"I didn't mean to say anything indiscreet--or disloyal," he +said, with a smile, recovering himself. "It is often the greatest +men who cling to the old world--when the new is clamoring. But the +new means to be heard all the same."</p> +<p>Diana's color flashed.</p> +<p>"I would rather be in that old world with Mr. Ferrier than in +the new with Mr. Barton!"</p> +<p>"What is the use of talking of preferences? The world is what it +is--and will be what it will be. Barton is our master--Ferrier's +and mine. The point is to come to terms, and make the best of +it."</p> +<p>"No!--the point is--to hold the gate!--and die on the threshold, +if need be."</p> +<p>They had come to a stile. Marsham had crossed it, and Diana +mounted. Her young form showed sharply against the west; he looked +into her eyes, divided between laughter and feeling; she gave him +her hand. The man's pulses leaped anew. He was naturally of a cool +and self-possessed temperament--the life of the brain much stronger +in him than the life of the senses. But at that moment he +recognized--as perhaps, for the first time, the night before--that +Nature and youth had him at last in grip. At the same time the +remembrance of a walk over the same ground that he had taken in the +autumn With Alicia Drake flashed, unwelcomed, into his mind. It +stirred a half-uneasy, half-laughing compunction. He could not +flatter himself--yet--that his cousin had forgotten it.</p> +<p>"What gate?--and what threshold?" he asked Diana, as they moved +on. "If you mean the gate of power--it is too late. Democracy is in +the citadel--and has run up its own flag. Or to take another +metaphor--the Whirlwind is in possession--the only question is who +shall ride it!"</p> +<p>Diana declared that the Socialists would ride it to the +abyss--with England on the crupper.</p> +<p>"Magnificent!" said Marsham, "but merely rhetorical. +Besides--all that we ask, is that Ferrier should ride it. Let him +only try the beast--and he will find it tame enough."</p> +<p>"And if he won't?--"</p> +<p>"Ah, if he won't--" said Marsham, uncertainly, and paused. In +the growing darkness she could no longer see his face plainly. But +presently he resumed, more earnestly and simply.</p> +<p>"Don't misunderstand me! Ferrier is our chief--my chief, above +all--and one does not even discuss whether one is loyal to him. The +party owes him an enormous debt. As for myself--" He drew a long +breath, which was again a sigh.</p> +<p>Then with a change of manner, and in a lighter tone: "I seem to +have given myself away--to an enemy!"</p> +<p>"Poor enemy!"</p> +<br> +<a name="image-098.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-098.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-098.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"The man's pulses leaped anew".</b></p> +<br> +<p>He looked at her, half laughing, half anxious.</p> +<p>"Tell me!--last night--you thought me +intolerant--overbearing?"</p> +<p>"I disliked being beaten," said Diana, candidly; "especially as +it was only my ignorance that was beaten--not my cause."</p> +<p>"Shall we begin again?"</p> +<p>Through his gayety, however, a male satisfaction in victory +pierced very plainly. Diana winced a little.</p> +<p>"No, no! I must go back to Captain Roughsedge first and get some +new arguments!"</p> +<p>"Roughsedge!" he said, in surprise. "Roughsedge? He never +carried an argument through in his life!"</p> +<p>Diana defended her new friend to ears unsympathetic. Her +defence, indeed, evoked from him a series of the same impatient, +sarcastic remarks on the subject of the neighbors as had +scandalized her the day before. She fired up, and they were soon in +the midst of another battle-royal, partly on the merits of +particular persons and partly on a more general theme--the +advantage or disadvantage of an optimist view of your +fellow-creatures.</p> +<p>Marsham was, before long, hard put to it in argument, and very +delicately and discreetly convicted of arrogance or worse. They +were entering the woods of the park when he suddenly stopped and +said:</p> +<p>"Do you know that you have had a jolly good revenge--pressed +down and running over?"</p> +<p>Diana smiled, and said nothing. She had delighted in the +encounter; so, in spite of castigation, had he. There surged up in +him a happy excited consciousness of quickened life and hurrying +hours. He looked with distaste at the nearness of the house; and at +the group of figures which had paused in front of them, waiting for +them, on the farther edge of the broad lawn.</p> +<p>"You have convicted me of an odious, exclusive, bullying +temper--or you think you have--and all you will allow <i>me</i> in +the way of victory is that I got the best of it because Captain +Roughsedge wasn't there!"</p> +<p>"Not at all. I respect your critical faculty!"</p> +<p>"You wish to hear me gush like Mrs. Minchin. It is simply +astounding the number of people you like!"</p> +<p>Diana's laugh broke into a sigh.</p> +<p>"Perhaps it's like a hungry boy in a goody-shop. He wants to eat +them all."</p> +<p>"Were you so very solitary as a child?" he asked her, gently, in +a changed tone, which was itself an act of homage, almost a +caress.</p> +<p>"Yes--I was very solitary," she said, after a pause. "And I am +really gregarious--dreadfully fond of people!--and curious about +them. And I think, oddly enough, papa was too."</p> +<p>A question rose naturally to his lips, but was checked unspoken. +He well remembered Mr. Mallory at Portofino; a pleasant courteous +man, evidently by nature a man of the world, interested in affairs +and in literature, with all the signs on him of the English +governing class. It was certainly curious that he should have spent +all those years in exile with his child, in a remote villa on the +Italian coast. Health, Marsham supposed, or finance--the two chief +motives of life. For himself, the thought of Diana's childhood +between the pine woods and the sea gave him pleasure; it added +another to the poetical and romantic ideas which she suggested. +There came back on him the plash of the waves beneath the Portofino +headland, the murmur of the pines, the fragrance of the underwood. +He felt the kindred between all these, and her maidenly energy, her +unspoiled beauty.</p> +<p>"One moment!" he said, as they began to cross the lawn. "Has my +sister attacked you yet?"</p> +<p>The smile with which the words were spoken could be heard though +not seen. Diana laughed, a little awkwardly.</p> +<p>"I am afraid Mrs. Fotheringham thinks me a child of blood and +thunder! I am so sorry!"</p> +<p>"If she presses you too hard, call me in. Isabel and I +understand each other."</p> +<p>Diana murmured something polite.</p> +<p>Mr. Frobisher meanwhile came to meet them with a remark upon the +beauty of the evening, and Alicia Drake followed.</p> +<p>"I expect you found it a horrid long way," she said to Diana. +Diana disclaimed fatigue.</p> +<p>"You came <i>so</i> slowly, we thought you must be tired."</p> +<p>Something in the drawling manner and the slightly insolent +expression made the words sting. Diana hurried on to Marion +Vincent's side. That lady was leaning on a stick, and for the first +time Diana saw that she was slightly lame. She looked up with a +pleasant smile and greeting; but before they could move on across +the ample drive, Mr. Frobisher overtook them.</p> +<p>"Won't you take my arm?" he said, in a low voice.</p> +<p>Miss Vincent slipped her hand inside his arm, and rested on him. +He supported her with what seemed to Diana a tender carefulness, +his head bent to hers, while he talked and she replied.</p> +<p>Diana followed, her girl's heart kindling.</p> +<p>"Surely!--surely!--they are in love?--engaged?"</p> +<p>But no one else appeared to take any notice or made any +remark.</p> +<p>Long did the memory of the evening which followed live warm in +the heart of Diana. It was to her an evening of triumph--triumph +innocent, harmless, and complete. Her charm, her personality had by +now captured the whole party, save for an opposition of three--and +the three realized that they had for the moment no chance of +influencing the popular voice. The rugged face of Mr. Barton +stiffened as she approached; it seemed to him that the night before +he had been snubbed by a chit, and he was not the man to forget it +easily. Alicia Drake was a little pale and a little silent during +the evening, till, late in its course, she succeeded in carrying +off a group of young men who had come for the shoot and were +staying the night, and in establishing a noisy court among them +Mrs. Fotheringham disapproved, by now, of almost everything that +concerned Miss Mallory: of her taste in music or in books, of the +touch of effusion in her manner, which was of course "affected" or +"aristocratic"; of the enthusiasms she did <i>not</i> possess, no +less than of those She did. On the sacred subject of the suffrage, +for instance, which with Mrs. Fotheringham was a matter for +propaganda everywhere and at all times, Diana was but a cracked +cymbal, when struck she gave back either no sound at all, or a +wavering one. Her beautiful eyes were blank or hostile; she would +escape like a fawn from the hunter. As for other politics, no one +but Mrs. Fotheringham dreamed of introducing them. She, however, +would have discovered many ways of dragging them in, and of setting +down Diana; but here her brother was on the watch, and time after +time she found herself checked or warded off.</p> +<p>Diana, indeed, was well defended. The more ill-humored Mrs. +Fotheringham grew, the more Lady Niton enjoyed the evening and her +own "Nitonisms." It was she who after dinner suggested the clearing +of the hall and an impromptu dance--on the ground that "girls must +waltz for their living." And when Diana proved to be one of those +in whom dancing is a natural and shining gift, so that even the +gilded youths of the party, who were perhaps inclined to fight shy +of Miss Mallory as "a girl who talked clever," even they came +crowding about her, like flies about a milk-pail--it was Lady Niton +who drew Isabel Fotheringham's attention to it loudly and +repeatedly. It was she also who, at a pause in the dancing and at a +hint from Mrs. Colwood, insisted on making Diana sing, to the grand +piano which had been pushed into a corner of the hall. And when the +singing, helped by the looks and personality of the singer, had +added to the girl's success, Lady Niton sat fanning herself in +reflected triumph, appealing to the spectators on all sides for +applause. The topics that Diana fled from, Lady Niton took up; and +when Mrs. Fotheringham, bewildered by an avalanche of words, would +say--"Give me time, please, Lady Niton--I must think!"--Lady Niton +would reply, coolly--"Not unless you're accustomed to it"; while +she finally capped her misdeeds by insisting that it was no good to +say Mr. Barton had a warm heart if he were without that much more +useful possession--a narrow mind.</p> +<p>Thus buttressed and befriended on almost all sides, Diana drank +her cup of pleasure. Once in an interval between two dances, as she +passed on Oliver Marsham's arm, close to Lady Lucy, that lady put +up her frail old hand, and gently touched Diana's. "Do not overtire +yourself, my dear!" she said, with effusion; and Oliver, looking +down, knew very well what his mother's rare effusion meant, if +Diana did not. On several occasions Mr. Perrier sought her out, +with every mark of flattering attention, while it often seemed to +Diana as if the protecting kindness of Sir James Chide was never +far away. In her white <i>ingenue's</i> dress she was an embodiment +of youth, simplicity, and joy, such as perhaps our grandmothers +knew more commonly than we, in our more hurried and complex day. +And at the same time there floated round her something more than +youth--something more thrilling and challenging than mere girlish +delight--an effluence, a passion, a "swell of soul," which made +this dawn of her life more bewitching even for its promise than for +its performance.</p> +<p>For Marsham, too, the hours flew. He was carried away, +enchanted; he had eyes for no one, time for no one but Diana; and +before the end of the evening the gossip among the Tallyn guests +ran fast and free. When at last the dance broke up, many a curious +eye watched the parting between Marsham and Diana; and in their +bedroom on the top floor Lady Lucy's two nieces sat up till the +small hours discussing, first, the situation--was Oliver really +caught at last?--and then, Alicia's refusal to discuss it. She had +said bluntly that she was dog-tired--and shut her door upon +them.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>On a hint from his mother, Marsham went to say good-night to her +in her room. She threw her arms round his neck, whispering: "Dear +Oliver!--dear Oliver!--I just wished you to know--if it is as I +think--that you had my blessing."</p> +<p>He drew back, a little shrinking and reluctant--yet still +flushed, as it were, with the last rays Diana's sun had shed upon +him.</p> +<p>"Things mustn't be hurried, mother."</p> +<p>"No--no--they sha'n't. But you know how I have wished to see you +happy--how ambitious I have been for you!"</p> +<p>"Yes, mother, I know. You have been always very good to me." He +had recovered his composure, and stood holding her hand and smiling +at her.</p> +<p>"What a charming creature, Oliver! It is a pity, of course, her +father has indoctrinated her with those opinions, but--"</p> +<p>"Opinions!" he said, scornfully--"what do they matter!" But he +could not discuss Diana. His blood was still too hot within +him.</p> +<p>"Of course--of course!" said Lady Lucy, soothingly. "She is so +young--she will develop. But what a wife, Oliver, she will +make--how she might help a man on--with her talents and her beauty +and her refinement. She has such dignity, too, for her years."</p> +<p>He made no reply, except to repeat:</p> +<p>"Don't hurry it, mother--don't hurry it."</p> +<p>"No--no"--she said, laughing--"I am not such a fool. There will +be many natural opportunities of meeting."</p> +<p>"There are some difficulties with the Vavasours. They have been +disagreeable about the gardens. Ferrier and I have promised to go +over and advise her."</p> +<p>"Good!" said Lady Lucy, delighted that the Vavasours had been +disagreeable. "Good-night, my son, good-night!"</p> +<p>A minute later Oliver stood meditating in his own room, where he +had just donned his smoking-jacket. By one of the natural ironies +of life, at a moment when he was more in love than he had ever been +yet, he was, nevertheless, thinking eagerly of prospects and of +money. Owing to his peculiar relation to his mother, and his +father's estate, marriage would be to him no mere satisfaction of a +personal passion. It would be a vital incident in a politician's +career, to whom larger means and greater independence were now +urgently necessary. To marry with his mother's full approval would +at last bring about that provision for himself which his father's +will had most unjustly postponed. He was monstrously dependent upon +her. It had been one of the chief checks on a strong and +concentrated ambition. But Lady Lucy had long made him understand +that to marry according to her wishes would mean emancipation: a +much larger income in the present, and the final settlement of her +will in his favor. It was amazing how she had taken to Diana! Diana +had only to accept him, and his future was secured.</p> +<p>But though thoughts of this kind passed in tumultuous procession +through the grooves of consciousness, they were soon expelled by +others. Marsham was no mere interested schemer. Diana should help +him to his career; but above all and before all she was the +adorable brown-eyed creature, whose looks had just been shining +upon him, whose soft hand had just been lingering in his! As he +stood alone and spellbound in the dark, yielding himself to the +surging waves of feeling which broke over his mind, the thought, +the dream, of holding Diana Mallory in his arms--of her head +against his breast--came upon him with a sudden and stinging +delight.</p> +<p>Yet the delight was under control--the control of a keen and +practical intelligence. There rose in him a sharp sense of the +unfathomed depths and possibilities in such a nature as Diana's. +Once or twice that evening, through all her sweet forthcomingness, +when he had forced the note a little, she had looked at him in +sudden surprise or shrinking. No!--nothing premature! It seemed to +him, as it had seemed to Bobbie Forbes, that she could only be won +by the slow and gradual conquest of a rich personality. He set +himself to the task.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Down-stairs Mr. Ferrier and Sir James Chide were sitting +together in a remote corner of the hall. Mr. Ferrier, in great +good-humor with the state of things, was discussing Oliver's +chances, confidentially, with his old friend. Sir James sat smoking +in silence. He listened to Ferrier's praises of Miss Mallory, to +his generous appreciation of Marsham's future, to his speculations +as to what Lady Lucy would do for her son, upon his marriage, or as +to the part which a creature so brilliant and so winning as Diana +might be expected to play in London and in political life.</p> +<p>Sir James said little or nothing. He knew Lady Lucy well, and +had known her long. Presently he rose abruptly and went up-stairs +to bed.</p> +<p>"Ought I to speak?" he asked himself, in an agony of doubt. +"Perhaps a word to Ferrier?--"</p> +<p>No!--impossible!--impossible! Yet, as he mounted the stairs, +over the house which had just seen the triumph of Diana, over that +radiant figure itself, the second sight of the great lawyer +perceived the brooding of a cloud of fate; nor could he do anything +to avert or soften its downfall.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile Diana's golden hour had found an unexpected epilogue. +After her good-night to Marsham she was walking along the gallery +corridor going toward her room, when she perceived Miss Vincent in +front of her moving slowly and, as it seemed, with difficulty. A +sudden impulse made Diana fly after her.</p> +<p>"Do let me help you!" she said, shyly.</p> +<p>Marion Vincent smiled, and put her hand in the girl's arm.</p> +<p>"How do people manage to live at all in these big houses, and +with dinner-parties every night!" she said, laughing. "After a day +in the East End I am never half so tired."</p> +<p>She was indeed so pale that Diana was rather frightened, and +remembering that in the afternoon she had seen Miss Vincent descend +from an upper floor, she offered a rest in her own room, which was +close by, before the evidently lame woman attempted further +stairs.</p> +<p>Marion Vincent hesitated a moment, then accepted. Diana hurried +up a chair to the fire, installed her there, and herself sat on the +floor watching her guest with some anxiety.</p> +<p>Yet, as she did so, she felt a certain antagonism. The face, of +which the eyes were now closed, was nobly grave. The expression of +its deeply marked lines appealed to her heart. But why this +singularity--this eccentricity? Miss Vincent wore the same dress of +dark woollen stuff, garnished with white frills, in which she had +appeared the night before, and her morning attire, as Mr. Frobisher +had foretold, had consisted of a precisely similar garment, adorned +with a straight collar instead of frills. Surely a piece of +acting!--of unnecessary self-assertion!</p> +<p>Yet all through the day--and the evening--Diana had been +conscious of this woman's presence, in a strange penetrating way, +even when they had had least to do with each other. In the +intervals of her own joyous progress she had been often aware of +Miss Vincent sitting apart, sometimes with Mr. Frobisher, who was +reading or talking to her, sometimes with Lady Lucy, and--during +the dance--with John Barton. Barton might have been the Jeremiah or +the Ezekiel of the occasion. He sat astride upon a chair, in his +respectable workman's clothes, his eyes under their shaggy brows, +his weather-beaten features and compressed lips expressing an +ill-concealed contempt for the scene before him. It was rumored +that he had wished to depart before dinner, having concluded his +consultation with Mr. Ferrier, but that Mrs. Fotheringham had +persuaded him to remain for the night. His presence seemed to make +dancing a misdemeanor, and the rich house, with its services and +appurtenances, an organized crime. But if his personality was the +storm-point of the scene, charged with potential lightning, Marion +Vincent's was the still small voice, without threat or bitterness, +which every now and then spoke to a quick imagination like Diana's +its message from a world of poverty and pain. And sometimes Diana +had been startled by the perception that the message seemed to be +specially for her. Miss Vincent's eyes followed her; whenever Diana +passed near her, she smiled--she admired. But always, as it seemed +to Diana, with a meaning behind the smile. Yet what that meaning +might be the girl could not tell.</p> +<p>At last, as she watched her, Marion Vincent looked up.</p> +<p>"Mr. Barton would talk to me just now about the history of his +own life. I suppose it was the dance and the supper excited him. He +began to testify! Sometimes when he does that he is magnificent. He +said some fine things to-night. But I am run down and couldn't +stand it."</p> +<p>Diana asked if Mr. Barton had himself gone through a great +struggle with poverty.</p> +<p>"The usual struggle. No more than thousands of others. Only in +him it is vocal--he can reflect upon it.--You had an easy triumph +over him last night," she added, with a smile, turning to her +companion.</p> +<p>"Who wouldn't have?" cried Diana. "What outrageous things he +said!"</p> +<p>"He doesn't know much about India--or the Colonies. He hasn't +travelled; he reads very little. He showed badly. But on his own +subjects he is good enough. I have known him impress or convert the +most unlikely people--by nothing but a bare sincerity. Just +now--while the servants were handing champagne--he and I were +standing a little way off under the gallery. His eyes are weak, and +he can't bear the glare of all these lights. Suddenly he told me +the story of his father's death."</p> +<p>She paused, and drew her hand across her eyes. Diana saw that +they were wet. But although startled, the girl held herself a +little aloof and erect, as though ready at a moment's notice to +defend herself against a softening which might involve a treachery +to glorious and sacred things.</p> +<p>"It so chanced"--Miss Vincent resumed--"that it had a bearing on +experiences of my own--just now."</p> +<p>"You are living in the East End?"</p> +<p>"At present. I am trying to find out the causes of a great wave +of poverty and unemployment in a particular district."--She named +it.--"It is hard work--and not particularly good for the +nerves."</p> +<p>She smiled, but at the same moment she turned extremely white, +and as she fell back in her chair, Diana saw her clinch her hand as +though in a strong effort for physical self-control.</p> +<p>Diana sprang up.</p> +<p>"Let me get you some water!"</p> +<p>"Don't go. Don't tell anybody. Just open that window." Diana +obeyed, and the northwest wind, sweeping in, seemed to revive her +pale companion almost at once.</p> +<p>"I am very sorry!" said Miss Vincent, after a few minutes, in +her natural voice. "Now I am all right." She drank some water, and +looked up.</p> +<p>"Shall I tell you the story he told me? It is very short, and it +might change your view of him."</p> +<p>"If you feel able--if you are strong enough," said Diana, +uncomfortably, wondering why it should matter to Miss Vincent or +anybody else what view she might happen to take of Mr. Barton.</p> +<p>"He said he remembered his father (who was a house-painter--a +very decent and hard-working man) having been out of work for eight +weeks. He used to go out looking for work every day--and there was +the usual story, of course, of pawning or selling all their +possessions--odd jobs--increasing starvation--and so on. Meanwhile, +<i>his</i> only pleasure--he was ten--was to go with his sister +after school to look at two shops in the East India Dock Road--one +a draper's with a 'Christmas Bazaar'--the other a confectioner's. +He declares it made him not more starved, but less, to look at the +goodies and the cakes; they <i>imagined</i> eating them; but they +were both too sickly, he thinks, to be really hungry. As for the +bazaar, with its dolls and toys, and its Father Christmas, and +bright lights, they both thought it paradise. They used to flatten +their noses against the glass; sometimes a shopman drove them away; +but they came back and back. At last the iron shutters would come +down--slowly. Then he and his sister would stoop--and stoop--to get +a last look. Presently there would be only a foot of bliss left; +then they both sank down flat on their stomachs on the pavement, +and so stayed--greedily--till all was dark, and paradise had been +swallowed up. Well, one night, the show had been specially +gorgeous; they took hands afterward, and ran home. Their father had +just come in. Mr. Barton can remember his staggering into the room. +I'll give it in his words. 'Mother, have you got anything in the +house?' 'Nothing, Tom.' And mother began to cry. 'Not a bit of +bread, mother?' 'I gave the last bit to the children for their +teas.' Father said nothing, but he lay down on the bed. Then he +called me. 'Johnnie,' he said, 'I've got work--for next week--but I +sha'n't never go to it--it's too late,' and then he asked me to +hold his hand, and turned his face on the pillow. When my mother +came to look, he was dead. 'Starvation and exhaustion'--the doctor +said."</p> +<p>Marion Vincent paused.</p> +<p>"It's just like any other story of the kind--isn't it?" Her +smile turned on Diana. "The charitable societies and missions send +them out by scores in their appeals. But somehow as he told it just +now, down-stairs, in that glaring hall, with the champagne going +round--it seemed intolerable."</p> +<p>"And you mean also"--said Diana, slowly--"that a man with that +history can't know or care very much about the Empire?"</p> +<p>"Our minds are all picture-books," said the woman beside her, in +a low, dreamy voice: "it depends upon what the pictures are. To you +the words 'England'--and the 'Empire'--represent one set of +pictures--all bright and magnificent--like the Christmas Bazaar. To +John Barton and me"--she smiled--"they represent another. We too +have seen the lights, and the candles, and the toys; we have +admired them, as you have; but we know the reality is not there. +The reality is in the dark streets, where men tramp, looking for +work; it is in the rooms where their wives and children live +stifled and hungry--the rooms where our working folk die--without +having lived."</p> +<p>Her eyes, above her pale cheeks, had opened to their fullest +extent--the eyes of a seer. They held Diana. So did the voice, +which was the voice of one in whom tragic passion and emotion are +forever wearing away the physical frame, as the sea waves break +down a crumbling shore.</p> +<p>Suddenly Diana bent over her, and took her hands.</p> +<p>"I wonder why you thought me worth talking to like this?" she +said, impetuously.</p> +<p>"I liked you!" said Marion Vincent, simply. "I liked you as you +talked last night. Only I wanted to add some more pictures to your +picture-book. <i>Your</i> set--the popular one--is called <i>The +Glories of England</i>. There is another--I recommend it to you: +<i>The Shames of England</i>."</p> +<p>"You think poverty a disgrace?" murmured Diana, held by the +glowing fanatical look of the speaker.</p> +<p>"<i>Our</i> poverty is a disgrace--the life of our poor is a +disgrace. What does the Empire matter--what do Afghan campaigns +matter--while London is rotten? However" (she smiled again, and +caressed Diana's hand), "will you make friends with me?"</p> +<p>"Is it worth while for you?" said Diana, laughing. "I shall +always prefer my picture-book to yours, I am afraid. And--I am not +poor--and I don't give all my money away."</p> +<p>Miss Vincent surveyed her gayly.</p> +<p>"Well, I come here," (she looked significantly round the +luxurious room), "and I am very good friends with the Marshams. +Oliver Marsham is one of the persons from whom I hope most."</p> +<p>"Not in pulling down wealth--and property!" cried Diana.</p> +<p>"Why not? Every revolution has its Philippe +Égalité Oh, it will come slowly--it will come +slowly," said the other, quietly. "And of course there will be +tragedy--there always is--in everything. But not, I hope, for +you--never for you!" And once more her hand dropped softly on +Diana's.</p> +<p>"You were happy to-night?--you enjoyed the dance?"</p> +<p>The question, so put, with such a look, from another mouth, +would have been an impertinence. Diana shrank, but could not resent +it. Yet, against her will, she flushed deeply.</p> +<p>"Yes. It was delightful. I did not expect to enjoy it so much, +but--"</p> +<p>"But you did! That's well. That's good!"</p> +<p>Marion Vincent rose feebly. And as she stood, leaning on the +chair, she touched the folds of Diana's white dress.</p> +<p>"When shall I see you again?--and that dress?"</p> +<p>"I shall be in London in May," said Diana, eagerly--May I come +then? You must tell me where."</p> +<p>"Ah, you won't come to Bethnal Green in that dress. What a +pity!"</p> +<p>Diana helped her to her room, where they shook hands and parted. +Then Diana came back to her own quarters. She had put out the +electric light for Miss Vincent's sake. The room was lit only by +the fire. In the full-length mirror of the toilet-table Diana saw +her own white reflection, and the ivy leaves in her hair. The +absence of her mourning was first a pain; then the joy of the +evening surged up again. Oh, was it wrong, was it wrong to be +happy--in this world "where men sit and hear each other groan"? She +clasped her hands to her soft breast, as though defending the +warmth, the hope that were springing there, against any dark +protesting force that might threaten to take them from her.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> +<p>"Henry," said Mrs. Roughsedge to her husband, "I think it would +do you good to walk to Beechcote."</p> +<p>"No, my dear, no! I have many proofs to get through before +dinner. Take Hugh. Only--"</p> +<p>Dr. Roughsedge, smiling, held up a beckoning finger. His wife +approached.</p> +<p>"Don't let him fall in love with that young woman. It's no +good."</p> +<p>"Well, she must marry somebody, Henry."</p> +<p>"Big fishes mate with big fishes--minnows with minnows."</p> +<p>"Don't run down your own son, sir. Who, pray, is too good for +him?"</p> +<p>"The world is divided into wise men, fools, and mothers. The +characters of the first two are mingled--disproportionately--in the +last," said Dr. Roughsedge, patiently enduring the kiss his wife +inflicted on him. "Don't kiss me, Patricia--don't tread on my +proofs--go away--and tell Jane not to forget my tea because you +have gone out."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge departed, and the doctor, who was devoted to +her, sank at once into that disorderly welter of proofs and smoke +which represented to him the best of the day. The morning he +reserved for hard work, and during the course of it he smoked but +one pipe. A quotation from Fuller which was often on his lips +expressed his point of view: "Spill not the morning, which is the +quintessence of the day, in recreation. For sleep itself is a +recreation. And to open the morning thereto is to add sauce to +sauce."</p> +<p>But in the afternoon he gave himself to all the delightful +bye-tasks: the works of supererogation, the excursions into side +paths, the niggling with proofs, the toying with style, the +potterings and polishings, the ruminations, and rewritings and +refinements which make the joy of the man of letters. For +five-and-twenty years he had been a busy Cambridge coach, tied year +in and year out to the same strictness of hours, the same monotony +of subjects, the same patient drumming on thick heads and dull +brains. Now that was all over. A brother had left him a little +money; he had saved the rest. At sixty he had begun to live. He was +editing a series of reprints for the Cambridge University Press, +and what mortal man could want more than a good wife and son, a +cottage to live in, a fair cook, unlimited pipes, no debts, and the +best of English literature to browse in? The rural afternoon, +especially, when he smoked and grubbed and divagated as he pleased, +was alone enough to make the five-and-twenty years of "swink" worth +while.</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge stayed to give very particular orders to the +house-parlormaid about the doctor's tea, to open a window in the +tiny drawing-room, and to put up in brown paper a pair of bed-socks +that she had just finished knitting for an old man in one of the +parish-houses. Then she joined her son, who was already waiting for +her--impatiently--in the garden.</p> +<p>Hugh Roughsedge had only just returned from a month's stay in +London, made necessary by those new Army examinations which his +soul detested. By dint of strenuous coaching he had come off +moderately victorious, and had now returned home for a week's extra +leave before rejoining his regiment. One of the first questions on +his tongue, as his mother instantly noticed, had been a question as +to Miss Mallory. Was she still at Beechcote? Had his mother seen +anything of her?</p> +<p>Yes, she was still at Beechcote. Mrs. Roughsedge, however, had +seen her but seldom and slightly since her son's departure for +London. If she had made one or two observations from a distance, +with respect to the young lady, she withheld them. And like the +discerning mother that she was, at the very first opportunity she +proposed a call at Beechcote.</p> +<p>On their way thither, this February afternoon, they talked in a +desultory way about some new War-Office reforms, which, as usual, +the entire Army believed to be merely intended--wilfully and +deliberately--for its destruction; about a recent gambling scandal +in the regiment, or the peculiarities of Hugh's commanding officer. +Meanwhile he held his peace on the subject of some letters he had +received that morning. There was to be an expedition in Nigeria. +Officers were wanted; and he had volunteered. The result of his +application was not yet known. He had no intention whatever of +upsetting his parents till it was known.</p> +<p>"I wonder how Miss Mallory liked Tallyn," said Mrs. Roughsedge, +briskly.</p> +<p>She had already expressed the same wonder once or twice. But as +neither she nor her son had any materials for deciding the point +the remark hardly promoted conversation. She added to it another of +more effect.</p> +<p>"The Miss Bertrams have already made up their minds that she is +to marry Oliver Marsham."</p> +<p>"The deuce!" cried the startled Roughsedge. "Beg your pardon, +mother, but how can those old cats possibly know?"</p> +<p>"They can't know," said Mrs. Roughsedge, placidly. "But as soon +as you get a young woman like that into the neighborhood, of course +everybody begins to speculate."</p> +<p>"They mumble any fresh person, like a dog with a bone," said +Roughsedge, indignantly.</p> +<p>They were passing across the broad village street. On either +hand were old timbered cottages, sun-mellowed and rain-beaten; a +thatched roof showing here and there; or a bit of mean new +building, breaking the time-worn line. To their left, keeping watch +over the graves which encircled it, rose the fourteenth-century +church; amid the trees around it rooks were cawing and wheeling; +and close beneath it huddled other cottages, ivy-grown, about the +village well. Afternoon school was just over, and the children were +skipping and running about the streets. Through the cottage doors +could be seen occasionally the gleam of a fire or a white cloth +spread for tea. For the womenfolk, at least, tea was the great meal +of the day in Beechcote. So that what with the flickering of the +fires, and the sunset light on the windows, the skipping children, +the dogs, the tea-tables, and the rooks, Beechcote wore a cheerful +and idyllic air. But Mrs. Roughsedge knew too much about these +cottages. In this one to the left a girl had just borne her second +illegitimate child; in that one farther on were two mentally +deficient children, the offspring of feeble-minded parents; in the +next, an old woman, the victim of pernicious anæmia, was +moaning her life away; in the last to the right the mother of five +small children had just died in her sixth confinement. Mrs. +Roughsedge gave a long sigh as she looked at it. The tragedy was +but forty-eight hours old; she had sat up with the mother through +her dying hours.</p> +<p>"Oh, my dear!" said Mrs. Roughsedge, suddenly--"here comes the +Vicar. Do you know, it's so unlucky--and so strange!--but he has +certainly taken a dislike to Miss Mallory--I believe it was because +he had hoped some Christian Socialist friends of his would have +taken Beechcote, and he was disappointed to find it let to some one +with what he calls 'silly Tory notions' and no particular ideas +about Church matters. Now there's a regular fuss--something about +the Book Club. I don't understand--"</p> +<p>The Vicar advanced toward them. He came along at a great pace, +his lean figure closely sheathed in his long clerical coat, his +face a little frowning and set.</p> +<p>At the sight of Mrs. Roughsedge he drew up, and greeted the +mother and son.</p> +<p>"May I have a few words with you?" he asked Mrs. Roughsedge, as +he turned back with them toward the Beechcote lane. "I don't know +whether you are acquainted, Mrs. Roughsedge, with what has just +happened in the Book Club, to which we both belong?"</p> +<p>The Book Club was a village institution of some antiquity. It +embraced some ten families, who drew up their Mudie lists in common +and sent the books from house to house. The Vicar and Dr. +Roughsedge had been till now mainly responsible for these lists--so +far, at least, as "serious books" were concerned, the ladies being +allowed the chief voice in the novels.</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge, a little fluttered, asked for information.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory has recommended two books which, in my opinion, +should not be circulated among us," said the Vicar. "I have +protested--in vain. Miss Mallory maintains her recommendation. I +propose, therefore, to withdraw from the Club."</p> +<p>"Are they improper?" cried Mrs. Roughsedge, much distressed. +Captain Roughsedge threw an angry look first at his mother and then +at the Vicar.</p> +<p>"Not in the usual sense," said the Vicar, stiffly--"but highly +improper for the reading of Christian people. One is by a +Unitarian, and the other reproduces some of the worst speculations +of an infidel German theology. I pointed out the nature of the +books to Miss Mallory. She replied that they were both by authors +whom her father liked. I regretted it. Then she fired up, refused +to withdraw the names, and offered to resign. Miss Mallory's +subscription to the Club is, however, much larger than mine. +<i>I</i> shall therefore resign--protesting, of course, against the +reason which induces me to take this course."</p> +<p>"What's wrong with the books?" asked Hugh Roughsedge.</p> +<p>The Vicar drew himself up.</p> +<p>"I have given my reasons."</p> +<p>"Why, you see that kind of thing in every newspaper," said +Roughsedge, bluntly.</p> +<p>"All the more reason why I should endeavor to keep my parish +free from it," was the Vicar's resolute reply. "However, there is +no more to be said. I wished Mrs. Roughsedge to understand what had +happened--that is all."</p> +<p>He paused, and offered a limp hand in good-bye.</p> +<p>"Let me speak to Miss Mallory," said Mrs. Roughsedge, +soothingly.</p> +<p>The Vicar shook his head.</p> +<p>"She is a young lady of strong will." And with a hasty nod of +farewell to the Captain, whose hostility he divined, he walked +away.</p> +<p>"And what about obstinate and pig-headed parsons!" said +Roughsedge, hotly, addressing his remark, however, safely to the +Vicar's back, and to his mother. "Who makes him a judge of what we +shall read! I shall make a point of asking for both the books!"</p> +<p>"Oh, my dear Hugh!" cried his mother, in rather troubled +protest. Then she happily reflected that if he asked for them, he +was not in the least likely to read them. "I hope Miss Mallory is +not really an unbeliever."</p> +<p>"Mother! Of course, what that poker in a wide-awake did was to +say something uncivil about her father, and she wasn't going to +stand that. Quite right, too."</p> +<p>"She did come to church on Christmas Day," said Mrs. Roughsedge, +reflecting. "But, then, a great many people do that who don't +believe anything. Anyway, she has always been quite charming to +your father and me. And I think, besides, the Vicar might have been +satisfied with your father's opinion--<i>he</i> made no complaint +about the books. Oh, now the Miss Bertrams are going to stop us! +They'll of course know all about it!"</p> +<p>If Captain Roughsedge growled ugly words into his mustache, his +mother was able to pretend not to hear them, in the gentle +excitement of shaking hands with the Miss Bertrams. These +middle-aged ladies, the daughters of a deceased doctor from the +neighboring county town of Dunscombe, were, if possible, more +plainly dressed than usual, and their manners more forbidding.</p> +<p>"You will have heard of this disagreeable incident which has +occurred," said Miss Maria to Mrs. Roughsedge, with a pinched +mouth. "My sister and I shall, of course, remove our names from the +Club."</p> +<p>"I say--don't your subscribers order the books they like?" asked +Roughsedge, half wroth and half laughing, surveying the lady with +his hand on his side.</p> +<p>"There is a very clear understanding among us," said Miss Maria, +sharply, "as to the character of the books to be ordered. No member +of the Club has yet transgressed it."</p> +<p>"There must be give and take, mustn't there?" said Miss +Elizabeth, in a deprecatory voice. She was the more amiable and the +weaker of the two sisters. "<i>We</i> should <i>never</i> order +books that would be offensive to Miss Mallory."</p> +<p>"But if you haven't read the books?"</p> +<p>"The Vicar's word is quite enough," said Miss Maria, with her +most determined air.</p> +<p>They all moved on together, Captain Roughsedge smoothing or +tugging at his mustache with a restless hand.</p> +<p>But Miss Bertram, presently, dropping a little behind, drew Mrs. +Roughsedge with her.</p> +<p>"There are all sorts of changes at the house," she said, +confidentially. "The laundry maids are allowed to go out every +evening, if they like--and Miss Mallory makes no attempt to +influence the servants to come to church. The Vicar says the seats +for the Beechcote servants have never been so empty."</p> +<p>"Dear, dear!" murmured Mrs. Roughsedge.</p> +<p>"And money is improperly given away. Several people whom the +Vicar thinks most unfit objects of charity have been assisted. And +in a conversation with her last week Miss Mallory expressed herself +in a very sad way about foreign missions. Her father's idea, again, +no doubt--but it is all very distressing. The Vicar doubts"--Miss +Maria spoke warily, bringing her face very close to the gray +curls--"whether she has ever been confirmed."</p> +<p>This final stroke, however, fell flat. Mrs. Roughsedge showed no +emotion. "Most of my aunts," she said, stoutly, "were never +confirmed, and they were good Christians and communicants all their +lives."</p> +<p>Miss Maria's expression showed that this reference to a +preceding barbaric age of the Church had no relevance to the +existing order of things.</p> +<p>"Of course," she added, hastily, "I do not wish to make myself +troublesome or conspicuous in any way. I merely mention these +things as explaining why the Vicar felt bound to make a stand. The +Church feeling in this parish has been so strong it would, indeed, +be a pity if anything occurred to weaken it."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge gave a doubtful assent. As to the Church +feeling, she was not so clear as Miss Bertram. One of her chief +friends was a secularist cobbler who lived under the very shadow of +the church. The Miss Bertrams shuddered at his conversation. Mrs. +Roughsedge found him racy company, and he presented to her aspects +of village life and opinion with which the Miss Bertrams were not +at all acquainted.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>As the mother and son approached the old house in the sunset +light, its aspect of mellow and intimate congruity with the woods +and fields about it had never been more winning. The red, gray, and +orange of its old brickwork played into the brown and purples of +its engirdling trees, into the lilacs and golds and crimsons of the +western sky behind it, into the cool and quiet tones of the meadows +from which it rose. A spirit of beauty had been at work fusing +man's perishable and passing work with Nature's eternal +masterpiece; so that the old house had in it something immortal, +and the light which played upon it something gently personal, +relative, and fleeting. Winter was still dominant; a northeast wind +blew. But on the grass under the spreading oaks which sheltered the +eastern front a few snow-drops were out. And Diana was gathering +them.</p> +<p>She came toward her visitors with alacrity. "Oh! what a long +time since you have been to see me!"</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge explained that she had been entertaining some +relations, and Hugh had been in London. She hoped that Miss Mallory +had enjoyed her stay at Tallyn. It certainly seemed to both mother +and son that the ingenuous young face colored a little as its owner +replied--"Thank you--it was very amusing"--and then added, with a +little hesitation--"Mr. Marsham has been kindly advising me since, +about the gardens--and the Vavasours. <i>They</i> were to keep up +the gardens, you know--and now they practically leave it to +me--which isn't fair."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge secretly wondered whether this statement was +meant to account for the frequent presence of Oliver Marsham at +Beechcote. She had herself met him in the lane riding away from +Beechcote no less than three times during the past fortnight.</p> +<p>"Please come in to tea!" said Diana; "I am just expecting my +cousin--Miss Merton. Mrs. Colwood and I are so excited!--we have +never had a visitor here before. I came out to try and find some +snow-drops for her room. There is really nothing in the +greenhouses--and I can't make the house look nice."</p> +<p>Certainly as they entered and passed through the panelled hall +to the drawing-room Hugh Roughsedge saw no need for apology. Amid +the warm dimness of the house he was aware of a few starry flowers, +a few gleaming and beautiful stuffs, the white and black of an +engraving, or the blurred golds and reds of an old Italian picture, +humble school-work perhaps, collected at small cost by Diana's +father, yet still breathing the magic of the Enchanted Land. The +house was refined, pleading, eager--like its mistress. It made no +display--but it admitted no vulgarity. "These things are not here +for mere decoration's sake," it seemed to say. "Dear kind hands +have touched them; dear silent voices have spoken of them. Love +them a little, you also!--and be at home."</p> +<p>Not that Hugh Roughsedge made any such conscious analysis of his +impressions. Yet the house appealed to him strangely. He thought +Miss Mallory's taste marvellous; and it is one of the superiorities +in women to which men submit most readily.</p> +<p>The drawing-room had especially a festive air. Mrs. Colwood was +keeping tea-cakes hot, and building up a blazing fire with logs of +beech-wood. When she had seated her guests, Diana put the +snow-drops she had gathered into an empty vase, and looked round +her happily, as though now she had put the last touch to all her +preparations. She talked readily of her cousin's coming to Mrs. +Roughsedge; and she inquired minutely of Hugh when the next meet +was to be, that she might take her guest to see it.</p> +<p>"Fanny will be just as new to it all as I!" she said. "That's so +nice, isn't it?" Then she offered Mrs. Roughsedge cake, and looked +at her askance with a hanging head. "Have you heard--about the +Vicar?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge admitted it.</p> +<p>"I did lose my temper," said Diana, repentantly. "But +<i>really!</i>--papa used to tell me it was a sign of weakness to +say violent things you couldn't prove. Wasn't it Lord Shaftesbury +that said some book he didn't like was 'vomited out of the jaws of +hell'? Well, the Vicar said things very like that. He did +indeed!"</p> +<p>"Oh no, my dear, no!" cried Mrs. Roughsedge, disturbed by the +quotation, even, of such a remark. Hugh Roughsedge grinned. Diana, +however, insisted.</p> +<p>"Of course, I would have given them up. Only I just happened to +say that papa always read everything he could by those two men--and +then"--she flushed--"Well, I don't exactly remember what Mr. Lavery +said. But I know that when he'd said it I wouldn't have given up +either of those books for the world!"</p> +<p>"I hope, Miss Mallory, you won't think of giving them up," said +Hugh, with vigor. "It will be an excellent thing for Lavery."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge, as the habitual peacemaker of the village, said +hastily that Dr. Roughsedge should talk to the Vicar. Of course, he +must not be allowed to do anything so foolish as to withdraw from +the Club, or the Miss Bertrams either."</p> +<p>"Oh! my goodness," cried Diana, hiding her face--and then +raising it, crimson. "The Miss Bertrams, too! Why, it's only six +weeks since I first came to this place, and now I'm setting it by +the ears!"</p> +<p>Her aspect of mingled mirth and dismay had in it something so +childish and disarming that Mrs. Roughsedge could only wish the +Vicar had been there to see. His heretical parishioner fell into +meditation.</p> +<p>"What can I do? If I could only be sure that he would never say +things like that to me again--"</p> +<p>"But he will!" said Captain Roughsedge. "Don't give in, Miss +Mallory."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Mrs. Roughsedge, as the door opened, "shall we ask +Mr. Marsham?"</p> +<p>Diana turned with a startled movement. It was evident that +Marsham was not expected. But Mrs. Roughsedge also inferred from a +shrewd observation of her hostess that he was not unwelcome. He +had, in fact, looked in on his way home from hunting to give a +message from his mother; that, at least, was the pretext. Hugh +Roughsedge, reading him with a hostile eye, said to himself that if +it hadn't been Lady Lucy it would have been something else. As it +happened, he was quite as well aware as his mother that Marsham's +visits to Beechcote of late had been far more frequent than mere +neighborliness required.</p> +<p>Marsham was in hunting dress, and made his usual handsome and +energetic impression. Diana treated him with great self-possession, +asking after Mr. Ferrier, who had just returned to Tallyn for the +last fortnight before the opening of Parliament, and betraying to +the Roughsedges that she was already on intimate terms with Lady +Lucy, who was lending her patterns for her embroidery, driving over +once or twice a week, and advising her about various household +affairs. Mrs. Roughsedge, who had been Diana's first protector, saw +herself supplanted--not without a little natural chagrin.</p> +<p>The controversy of the moment was submitted to Marsham, who +decided hotly against the Vicar, and implored Diana to stand firm. +But somehow his intervention only hastened the compunction that had +already begun to work in her. She followed the Roughsedges to the +door when they departed.</p> +<p>"What must I do?" she said, sheepishly, to Mrs. Roughsedge. +"Write to him?"</p> +<p>"The Vicar? Oh, dear Miss Mallory, the doctor will settle it. +You <i>would</i>-change the books?"</p> +<p>"Mother!" cried Hugh Roughsedge, indignantly, "we're all +bullied--you know we are--and now you want Miss Mallory bullied +too."</p> +<p>"'Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow,'" laughed +Marsham, in the background, as he stood toying with his tea beside +Mrs. Colwood.</p> +<p>Diana shook her head.</p> +<p>"I can't be friends with him," she said, naively, "for a long +long time. But I'll rewrite my list. And <i>must</i> I go and call +on the Miss Bertrams to-morrow?"</p> +<p>Her mock and smiling submission, as she stood, slender and +lovely, amid the shadows of the hall, seemed to Hugh Roughsedge, as +he looked back upon her, the prettiest piece of acting. Then she +turned, and he knew that she was going back to Marsham. At the same +moment he saw Mrs. Colwood's little figure disappearing up the main +stairway. Frowning and silent, he followed his mother out of the +house.</p> +<p>Diana looked round rather wistfully for Mrs. Colwood as she +re-entered the room; but that lady had many letters to write.</p> +<p>Marsham noticed Mrs. Colwood's retreat with a thrill of +pleasure. Yet even now he had no immediate declaration in his mind. +The course that he had marked out for himself had been exactly +followed. There had been no "hurrying it." Only in these weeks +before Parliament, while matters of great moment to his own +political future were going forward, and his participation in them +was not a whit less cool and keen than it had always been, he had +still found abundant time for the wooing of Diana. He had assumed a +kind of guardian's attitude in the matter of her relations to the +Vavasours--who in business affairs had proved both greedy and +muddle-headed; he had flattered her woman's vanity by the insight +he had freely allowed her into the possibilities and the +difficulties of his own Parliamentary position, and of his +relations to Ferrier; and he had kept alive a kind of perpetual +interest and flutter in her mind concerning him, by the challenge +he was perpetually offering to the opinions and ideas in which she +had been brought up--while yet combining it with a respect toward +her father's memory, so courteous, and, in truth, sincere, that she +was alternately roused and subdued.</p> +<p>On this February evening, it seemed to his exultant sense, as +Diana sat chatting to him beside the fire, that his power with her +had substantially advanced, that by a hundred subtle signs--quite +involuntary on her part--she let him understand that his +personality was pressing upon hers, penetrating her will, +transforming her gay and fearless composure.</p> +<p>For instance, he had been lending her books representing his own +political and social opinions. To her they were anathema. Her +father's soul in her regarded them as forces of the pit, rising in +ugly clamor to drag down England from her ancient place. But to +hate and shudder at them from afar had been comparatively easy. To +battle with them at close quarters, as presented by this able and +courteous antagonist, who passed so easily and without presumption +from the opponent into the teacher, was a more teasing matter. She +had many small successes and side-victories, but they soon ceased +to satisfy her, in presence of the knowledge and ability of a man +who had been ten years in Parliament, and had made for himself--she +began to understand--a considerable position there. She was hotly +loyal to her own faiths; but she was conscious of what often seemed +to her a dangerous and demoralizing interest in his! A demoralizing +pleasure, too, in listening--in sometimes laying aside the +watchful, hostile air, in showing herself sweet, yielding, +receptive.</p> +<p>These melting moods, indeed, were rare. But no one watching the +two on this February evening could have failed to see in Diana +signs of happiness, of a joyous and growing dependence, of +something that refused to know itself, that masqueraded now as this +feeling, now as that, yet was all the time stealing upon the +sources of life, bewitching blood and brain. Marsham lamented that +in ten days he and his mother must be in town for the Parliamentary +season. Diana clearly endeavored to show nothing more than a polite +regret. But in the half-laughing, half-forlorn requests she made to +him for advice in certain practical matters which must be decided +in his absence she betrayed herself; and Marsham found it amazingly +sweet that she should do so. He said eagerly that he and Lady Lucy +must certainly come down to Tallyn every alternate Sunday, so that +the various small matters he had made Diana intrust to him--the +finding of a new gardener; negotiations with the Vavasours, +connected with the cutting of certain trees--or the repairs of a +ruinous gable of the house--should still be carried forward with +all possible care and speed. Whereupon Diana inquired how such +things could possibly engage the time and thought of a politician +in the full stream of Parliament.</p> +<p>"They will be much more interesting to me," said Marsham, in a +low steady voice, "than anything I shall be doing in +Parliament."</p> +<p>Diana rose, in sudden vague terror--as though with the roar in +her ears of rapids ahead--murmured some stammering thanks, walked +across the room, lowered a lamp which was flaming, and recovered +all her smiling self-possession. But she talked no more of her own +affairs. She asked him, instead, for news of Miss Vincent.</p> +<p>Marsham answered, with difficulty. If there had been sudden +alarm in her, there had been a sudden tumult of the blood in him. +He had almost lost his hold upon himself; the great words had been +almost spoken.</p> +<p>But when the conversation had been once more guided into normal +channels, he felt that he had escaped a risk. No, no, not yet! One +false step--one check--and he might still find himself groping in +the dark. Better let himself be missed a little!--than move too +soon. As to Roughsedge--he had kept his eyes open. There was +nothing there.</p> +<p>So he gave what news of Marion Vincent he had to give. She was +still in Bethnal Green working at her inquiry, often very ill, but +quite indomitable. As soon as Parliament began she had promised to +do some secretarial work for Marsham on two or three mornings a +week.</p> +<p>"I saw her last week," said Marsham. "She always asks after +you."</p> +<p>"I am so glad! I fell in love with her. Surely"--Diana +hesitated--"surely--some day--she will marry Mr. Frobisher?"</p> +<p>Marsham shook his head.</p> +<p>"I think she feels herself too frail."</p> +<p>Diana remembered that little scene of intimacy--of +tenderness--and Marsham's words stirred about her, as it were, +winds of sadness and renunciation. She shivered under them a +little, feeling, almost guiltily, the glow of her own life, the +passion of her own hopes.</p> +<p>Marsham watched her as she sat on the other side of the fire, +her beautiful head a little bent and pensive, the firelight playing +on the oval of her cheek. How glad he was that he had not +spoken!--that the barrier between them still held. A man may find +heaven or hell on the other side of it. But merely to have crossed +it makes life the poorer. One more of the great, the irrevocable +moments spent and done--yielded to devouring time. He hugged the +thought that it was still before him. The very timidity and anxiety +he felt were delightful to him; he had never felt them before. And +once more--involuntarily, disagreeably--he thought of Alicia Drake, +and of the passages between them in the preceding summer.</p> +<p>Alicia was still at Tallyn, and her presence was, in truth, a +constant embarrassment to him. Lady Lucy, on the contrary, had a +strong sense of family duty toward her young cousin, and liked to +have her for long visits at Tallyn or in London. Marsham believed +his mother knew nothing of the old flirtation between them. Alicia, +indeed, rarely showed any special interest in him now. He admitted +her general discretion. Yet occasionally she would put in a claim, +a light word, now mocking, now caressing, which betrayed the old +intimacy, and Marsham would wince under it. It was like a creeping +touch in the dark. He had known what it was to feel both +compunction and a kind of fear with regard to Alicia. But, +normally, he told himself that both feelings were ridiculous. He +had done nothing to compromise either himself or her. He had +certainly flirted with Alicia; but he could not honestly feel that +the chief part in the matter had been his.</p> +<p>These thoughts passed in a flash. The clock struck, and +regretfully he got up to take his leave. Diana rose, too, with a +kindling face.</p> +<p>"My cousin will be here directly!" she said, joyously.</p> +<p>"Shall I find her installed when I come next time?"</p> +<p>"I mean to keep her as long--as long--as ever I can!"</p> +<p>Marsham held her hand close and warm a moment, felt her look +waver a second beneath his, and then, with a quick and resolute +step, he went his way.</p> +<p>He was just putting on his coat in the outer hall when there was +a sound of approaching wheels. A carriage stopped at the door, to +which the butler hurried. As he opened it Marsham saw in the light +of the porch lamp the face of a girl peering out of the carriage +window. It was a little awkward. His own horse was held by a groom +on the other side of the carriage. There was nothing to do but to +wait till the young lady had passed. He drew to one side.</p> +<p>Miss Merton descended. There was just time for Marsham to notice +an extravagant hat, smothered in ostrich feathers, a +large-featured, rather handsome face, framed in a tangled mass of +black hair, a pair of sharp eyes that seemed to take in hungrily +all they saw--the old hall, the butler, and himself, as he stood in +the shadow. He heard the new guest speak to the butler about her +luggage. Then the door of the inner hall opened, and he caught +Diana's hurrying feet, and her cry--</p> +<p>"Fanny!"</p> +<p>He passed the lady and escaped. As he rode away into the +darkness of the lanes he was conscious of an impression which had +for the moment checked the happy flutter of blood and pulse. Was +<i>that</i> the long-expected cousin? Poor Diana! A common-looking, +vulgar young woman--with a most unpleasant voice and accent. An +unpleasant manner, too, to the servants--half arrogant, half +familiar. What a hat!--and what a fringe!--worthy of some young +"lidy" in the Old Kent Road! The thought of Diana sitting at table +with such a person on equal terms pricked him with annoyance; for +he had all his mother's fastidiousness, though it showed itself in +different forms. He blamed Mrs. Colwood--Diana ought to have been +more cautiously guided. The thought of all the tender preparation +made for the girl was both amusing and repellent.</p> +<p>Miss Merton, he understood, was Diana's cousin on the mother's +side--the daughter of her mother's sister. A swarm of questions +suddenly arose in his mind--questions not hitherto entertained. Had +there been, in fact, a <i>mésalliance</i>--some disagreeable +story--which accounted, perhaps, for the self-banishment of Mr. +Mallory?--the seclusion in which Diana had been brought up? The +idea was most unwelcome, but the sight of Fanny Merton had +inevitably provoked it. And it led on to a good many other ideas +and speculations of a mingled sort connected, now with Diana, now +with recollections, pleasant and unpleasant, of the eight or ten +years which had preceded his first sight of her.</p> +<p>For Oliver Marsham was now thirty-six, and he had not reached +that age without at least one serious attempt--quite apart from any +passages with Alicia Drake--to provide himself with a wife. Some +two years before this date he had proposed to a pretty girl of +great family and no money, with whom he supposed himself ardently +in love. She, after some hesitation, had refused him, and Marsham +had had some reason to believe that in spite of his mother's great +fortune and his own expectations, his <i>provenance</i> had not +been regarded as sufficiently aristocratic by the girl's fond +parents. Perhaps had he--and not Lady Lucy--been the owner of +Tallyn and its £18,000 a year, things might have been +different. As it was, Marsham had felt the affront, as a strong and +self-confident man was likely to feel it; and it was perhaps in +reaction from it that he had allowed himself those passages with +Alicia Drake which had, at least, soothed his self-love.</p> +<p>In this affair Marsham had acted on one of the convictions with +which he had entered public life--that there is no greater help to +a politician than a distinguished, clever, and, if possible, +beautiful wife. Distinction, Radical though he was, had once seemed +to him a matter of family and "connection." But after the failure +of his first attempt, "family," in the ordinary sense, had ceased +to attract him. Personal breeding, intelligence, and charm--these, +after all, are what the politician who is already provided with +money, wants to secure in his wife; without, of course, any obvious +disqualification in the way of family history. Diana, as he had +first met her among the woods at Portofino, side by side with her +dignified and gentlemanly father, had made upon him precisely that +impression of personal distinction of which he was in search--upon +his mother also.</p> +<p>The appearance and the accent, however, of the cousin had struck +him with surprise; nor was it till he was nearing Tallyn that he +succeeded in shaking off the impression. Absurd! Everybody has some +relations that require to be masked--like the stables, or the back +door--in a skilful arrangement of life. Diana, his beautiful, +unapproachable Diana, would soon, no doubt, be relieved of this +young lady, with whom she could have no possible interests in +common. And, perhaps, on one of his week-end visits to Tallyn and +Beechcote, he might get a few minutes' conversation with Mrs. +Colwood which would throw some light on the new guest.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Diana meanwhile, assisted by Mrs. Colwood, was hovering about +her cousin. She and Miss Merton had kissed each other in the hall, +and then Diana, seized with a sudden shyness, led her guest into +the drawing-room and stood there speechless, a little; holding her +by both hands and gazing at her; mastered by feeling and +excitement.</p> +<p>"Well, you <i>have</i> got a queer old place!" said Fanny +Merton, withdrawing herself. She turned and looked about her, at +the room, the flowers, the wide hearth, with its blazing logs, at +Mrs. Colwood, and finally at Diana.</p> +<p>"We are so fond of it already!" said Diana. "Come and get warm." +She settled her guest in a chair by the fire, and took a stool +beside her. "Did you like Devonshire?"</p> +<p>The girl made a little face.</p> +<p>"It was awfully quiet. Oh, my friends, of course, made a lot of +fuss over me--and that kind of thing. But I wouldn't live there, +not if you paid me."</p> +<p>"We're very quiet here," said Diana, timidly. She was examining +the face beside her, with its bright crude color, its bold eyes, +and sulky mouth, slightly underhung.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, you've got some good families about, I guess. I saw +one or two awfully smart carriages waiting at the station."</p> +<p>"There are a good many nice people," murmured Diana. "But there +is not much going on."</p> +<p>"I expect you could invite a good many here if you wanted," said +the girl, once more looking round her. "Whatever made you take this +place?"</p> +<p>"I like old things so much," laughed Diana. "Don't you?"</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know. I think there's more style about a new +house. You can have electric light and all that sort of thing."</p> +<p>Diana admitted it, and changed the subject. "Had the journey +been cold?"</p> +<p>Freezing, said Miss Merton. But a young man had lent her his fur +coat to put over her knees, which had improved matters. She +laughed--rather consciously.</p> +<p>"He lives near here. I told him I was sure you'd ask him to +something, if he called."</p> +<p>"Who was he?"</p> +<p>With much rattling of the bangles on her wrists, Fanny produced +a card from her hand-bag. Diana looked at it in dismay. It was the +card of a young solicitor whom she had once met at a local +tea-party, and decided to avoid thenceforward.</p> +<p>She said nothing, however, and plunged into inquiries as to her +aunt and cousins.</p> +<p>"Oh! they're all right. Mother's worried out of her life about +money; but, then, we've always been that poor you couldn't skin a +cent off us, so that's nothing new."</p> +<p>Diana murmured sympathy. She knew vaguely that her father had +done a good deal to subsidize these relations. She could only +suppose that in his ignorance he had not done enough.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Fanny Merton had fixed her eyes upon Diana with a +curious hostile look, almost a stare, which had entered them as she +spoke of the family poverty, and persisted as they travelled from +Diana's face and figure to the pretty and spacious room beyond. She +examined everything, in a swift keen scrutiny, and then as the +pouncing glance came back to her cousin, the girl suddenly +exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Goodness! but you are like Aunt Sparling!"</p> +<p>Diana flushed crimson. She drew back and said, hurriedly, to +Mrs. Colwood:</p> +<p>"Muriel, would you see if they have taken the luggage +up-stairs?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood went at once.</p> +<p>Fanny Merton had herself changed color, and looked a little +embarrassed. She did not repeat her remark, but began to take her +furs off, to smooth her hair deliberately, and settle her +bracelets. Diana came nearer to her as soon as they were alone.</p> +<p>"Do you really think I am like mamma?" she said, tremulously, +all her eyes fixed upon her cousin.</p> +<p>"Well, of course I never saw her!" said Miss Merton, looking +down at the fire. "How could I? But mother has a picture of her, +and you're as like as two peas."</p> +<p>"I never saw any picture of mamma," said Diana; "I don't know at +all what she was like."</p> +<p>"Ah, well--" said Miss Merton, still looking down. Then she +stopped, and said no more. She took out her handkerchief, and began +to rub a spot of mud off her dress. It seemed to Diana that her +manner was a little strange, and rather rude. But she had made up +her mind there would be peculiarities in Fanny, and she did not +mean to be repelled by them.</p> +<p>"Shall I take you to your room?" she said. "You must be tired, +and we shall be dining directly."</p> +<p>Miss Merton allowed herself to be led up-stairs, looking +curiously round her at every step.</p> +<p>"I say, you must be well off!" she burst out, as they came to +the head of the stairs, "or you'd never be able to run a place like +this!"</p> +<p>"Papa left me all his money," said Diana, coloring again. "I +hope he wouldn't have thought it extravagant."</p> +<p>She passed on in front of her guest, holding a candle. Fanny +Merton followed. At Diana's statement as to her father's money the +girl's face had suddenly resumed its sly hostility. And as Diana +walked before her, Miss Merton again examined the house, the +furniture, the pictures; but this time, and unknown to Diana, with +the air of one half jealous and half contemptuous of all she +saw.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="Part_II"></a>Part II</h2> +<blockquote>"<i>The soberest saints are more +stiff-neckèd<br> +Than the hottest-headed of the wicked.</i>"</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br> +<p>"I shall soon be back," said Diana--"very soon. I'll just take +this book to Dr. Roughsedge. You don't mind?"</p> +<p>The question was addressed--in a deprecatory tone--to Mrs. +Colwood, who stood beside her at the Beechcote front door.</p> +<p>Muriel Colwood smiled, and drew the furs closer round the girl's +slim throat.</p> +<p>"I shall mind very much if you don't stay out a full hour and +get a good walk."</p> +<p>Diana ran off, followed by her dog. There was something in the +manner both of the dog and its mistress that seemed to show +impetuous escape--and relief.</p> +<p>"She looks tired out!" said the little companion to herself, as +she turned to enter the hall. "How on earth is she going to get +through six weeks of it?--or six months!"</p> +<p>The house as she walked back through it made upon her the odd +impression of having suddenly lost some of its charm. The peculiar +sentiment--as of a warmly human, yet delicately ordered life, which +it had breathed out so freely only twenty-four hours before, seemed +to her quick feeling to have been somehow obscured or dissipated. +All its defects, old or new--the patches in the panelling, the +darkness of the passages--stood out.</p> +<p>And "all along of Eliza!" All because of Miss Fanny Merton! Mrs. +Colwood recalled the morning--Miss Merton's late arrival at the +breakfast-table, and the discovery from her talk that she was +accustomed to breakfast in bed, waited upon by her younger sisters; +her conversation at breakfast, partly about the prices of clothes +and eatables, partly in boasting reminiscence of her winnings at +cards, or in sweepstakes on the "run," on board the steamer. Diana +had then devoted herself to the display of the house, and her maid +had helped Miss Merton to unpack. The process had been diversified +by raids made by Miss Fanny on Diana's own wardrobe, which she had +inspected from end to end, to an accompaniment of critical remark. +According to her, there was very little that was really "shick" in +it, and Diana should change her dressmaker. The number of her own +dresses was large; and as to their colors and make, Mrs. Colwood, +who had helped to put away some of them, could only suppose that +tropical surroundings made tropical tastes. At the same time the +contrast between Miss Fanny's wardrobe, and what she herself +reported, in every tone of grievance and disgust, of the family +poverty, was surprising, though no doubt a great deal of the finery +had been as cheaply bought as possible.</p> +<p>By luncheon-time Diana had shown some symptoms of fatigue, +perhaps--Mrs. Colwood hoped!--of revolt. She had been already +sharply questioned as to the number of servants she kept and the +wages they received, as to the people in the neighborhood who gave +parties, and the ages and incomes of such young or unmarried men as +might be met with at these parties. Miss Merton had boasted already +of two love-affairs--one the unsuccessful engagement in Barbadoes, +the other--"a near thing"--which had enlivened the voyage to +England; and she had extracted a promise from Diana to ask the +young solicitor she had met with in the train--Mr. Fred Birch--to +lunch, without delay. Meanwhile she had not--of her own +initiative--said one word of those educational objects, in pursuit +of which she was supposed to have come to England. Diana had +proposed to her the names of certain teachers both of music and +languages--names which she had obtained with much trouble. Miss +Fanny had replied, rather carelessly, that she would think about +it.</p> +<p>It was at this that the eager sweetness of Diana's manner to her +cousin had shown its first cooling. And Mrs. Colwood had curiously +observed that at the first sign of shrinking on her part, Miss +Fanny's demeanor had instantly changed. It had become sugared and +flattering to a degree. Everything in the house was "sweet"; the +old silver used at table, with the Mallory crest, was praised +extravagantly; the cooking no less. Yet still Diana's tired silence +had grown; and the watching eyes of this amazing young woman had +been, in Mrs. Colwood's belief, now insolently and now anxiously, +aware of it.</p> +<p>Insolence!--that really, if one came to think of it, had been +the note of Miss Merton's whole behavior from the beginning--an +ill-concealed, hardly restrained insolence, toward the girl, two +years older than herself, who had received her with such tender +effusion, and was, moreover, in a position to help her so +materially. What could it--what did it mean?</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood stood at the foot of the stairs a moment, lost in a +trance of wonderment. Her heart was really sore for Diana's +disappointment, for the look in her face, as she left the house. +How on earth could the visit be shortened and the young lady +removed?</p> +<p>The striking of three o'clock reminded Muriel Colwood that she +was to take the new-comer out for an hour. They had taken coffee in +the morning-room up-stairs, Diana's own sitting-room, where she +wrote her letters and followed out the lines of reading her father +had laid down for her. Mrs. Colwood returned thither; found Miss +Merton, as it seemed to her, in the act of examining the letters in +Diana's blotting-book; and hastily proposed to her to take a turn +in the garden.</p> +<p>Fanny Merton hesitated, looked at Mrs. Colwood a moment +dubiously, and finally walked up to her.</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't care about going out, it's so cold and nasty. And, +besides, I--I want to talk to you."</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory thought you might like to see the old gardens," +said Mrs. Colwood. "But if you would rather not venture out, I'm +afraid I must go and write some letters."</p> +<p>"Why, you were writing letters all the morning! My fingers would +drop off if I was to go on at it like that. Do you like being a +companion? I should think it was rather beastly--if you ask me. At +home they did talk about it for me. But I said: 'No, thank you! My +own mistress, if you please!'"</p> +<p>The speaker sat down by the fire, raised her skirt of purple +cloth, and stretched a pair of shapely feet to the warmth. Her look +was good-humored and lazy.</p> +<p>"I am very happy here," said Mrs. Colwood, quietly. "Miss +Mallory is so charming and so kind."</p> +<p>Miss Fanny cleared her throat, poked the fire with the tip of +her shoe, fidgeted with her dress, and finally said--abruptly:</p> +<p>"I say--have all the people about here called?"</p> +<p>The tone was so low and furtive that Mrs. Colwood, who had been +putting away some embroidery silks which had been left on the table +by Diana, turned in some astonishment. She found the girl's eyes +fixed upon her--eager and hungry.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory has had a great many visitors"--she tried to pitch +her words in the lightest possible tone--"I am afraid it will take +her a long time to return all her calls."</p> +<p>"Well, I'm glad it's all right about that!--anyway. As mamma +said, you never know. People are so queer about these things, +aren't they? As if it was Diana's fault!"</p> +<p>Through all her wrath, Muriel Colwood was conscious of a sudden +pang of alarm--which was, in truth, the reawakening of something +already vaguely felt or surmised. She looked rather sternly at her +companion.</p> +<p>"I really don't know what you mean, Miss Merton. And I never +discuss Miss Mallory's affairs. Perhaps you will kindly allow me to +go to my letters."</p> +<p>She was moving away when the girl beside her laughed +again--rather angrily--and Mrs. Colwood paused, touched again by +instinctive fear.</p> +<p>"Oh, of course if I'm not to say a word about it--I'm +not--that's all! Well, now, look here--Diana needn't suppose that +I've come all this way just for fun. I had to say that about +lessons, and that kind of thing--I didn't want to set her against +me--but I've ... Well!--why should I be ashamed, I should like to +know?"--she broke out, shrilly, sitting erect, her face flushing +deeply, her eyes on fire. "If some one owes you something--why +shouldn't you come and get it? Diana owes my mother +<i>money!</i>--a lot of money!--and we can't afford to lose it. +Mother's awfully sweet about Diana--she said, 'Oh no, it's +unkind'--but I say it's unkind to <i>us</i>, not to speak, when we +all want money so bad--and there are the boys to bring +up--and--"</p> +<p>"Miss Merton--I'm very sorry--but really I cannot let you talk +to me of Miss Mallory's private affairs. It would neither be +right--nor honorable. You must see that. She will be in by tea-time +herself. Please!--"</p> +<p>Muriel's tone was gentle; but her attitude was resolution +itself. Fanny Merton stared at the frail slim creature in her deep +widow's black; her color rose.</p> +<p>"Oh, very well. Do as you like!--I'm agreeable! Only I thought +perhaps--as you and Diana seem to be such tremendous friends--you'd +like to talk it over with me first. I don't know how much Diana +knows; and I thought perhaps you'd give me a hint. Of course, +she'll know all there was in the papers. But my mother claims a +deal more than the trust money--jewels, and that kind of thing. And +Uncle Mallory treated us shamefully about them--<i>shamefully</i>! +That's why I'm come over. I made mother let me! Oh, she's so soft, +is mother, she'd let anybody off. But I said, 'Diana's rich, and +she <i>ought</i> to make it up to us! If nobody else'll ask her, I +will!'"</p> +<p>The girl had grown pale, but it was a pallor of determination +and of passion. Mrs. Colwood had listened to the torrent of words, +held against her will, first by astonishment, then by something +else. If it should be her duty to listen?--for the sake of this +young life, which in these few weeks had so won upon her heart?</p> +<p>She retraced a few steps.</p> +<p>"Miss Merton, I do not understand what you have been saying. If +you have any claim upon Miss Mallory, you know well that she is the +soul of honor and generosity. Her one desire is to give everybody +<i>more</i> than their due. She is <i>too</i> generous--I often +have to protect her. But, as I have said before, it is not for me +to discuss any claim you may have upon her."</p> +<p>Fanny Merton was silent for a minute--staring at her companion. +Then she said, abruptly:</p> +<p>"Does she ever talk to you about Aunt Sparling?"</p> +<p>"Her mother?"</p> +<p>The girl nodded.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood hesitated--then said, unwillingly: "No. She has +mentioned her once or twice. One can see how she missed her as a +child--how she misses her still."</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know what call she has to miss her!" cried Fanny +Merton, in a note of angry scorn. "A precious good thing she died +when she did--for everybody."</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood felt her hands trembling. In the growing darkness +of the winter afternoon it seemed to her startled imagination as +though this black-eyed black-browed girl, with her scowling +passionate face, were entering into possession of the house and of +Diana--an evil and invading power. She tried to choose her words +carefully.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory has never talked to me of her parents. And, if you +will excuse me, Miss Merton--if there is anything sad--or +tragic--in their history, I would rather hear it from Miss Mallory +than from you!"</p> +<p>"Anything sad?--anything <i>sad</i>? Well, upon my word!--"</p> +<p>The girl breathed fast. So, involuntarily, did Mrs. Colwood.</p> +<p>"You don't mean to say"--the speaker threw her body forward, and +brought her face close to Mrs. Colwood--"you are not going to tell +me that you don't know about Diana's mother?"</p> +<p>She laid her hand upon Muriel's dress.</p> +<p>"Why should I know? Please, Miss Merton!" and with a resolute +movement Mrs. Colwood tried to withdraw her dress.</p> +<p>"Why, <i>everybody</i> knows!--everybody!--everybody! Ask +anybody in the world about Juliet Sparling--and you'll see. In the +saloon, coming over, I heard people talk about her all one +night--they didn't know who <i>I</i> was--and of course I didn't +tell. And there was a book in the ship's library--<i>Famous +Trials</i>--or some name of that sort--with the whole thing in it. +You don't know--about--Diana's <i>mother</i>?"</p> +<p>The fierce, incredulous emphasis on the last word, for a moment, +withered all reply on Mrs. Colwood's lips. She walked to the door +mechanically, to see that it was fast shut. Then she returned. She +sat down beside Diana's guest, and it might have been seen that she +had silenced fear and dismissed hesitation. "After all," she said, +with quiet command, "I think I will ask you, Miss Merton, to +explain what you mean?"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The February afternoon darkened round the old house. There was a +light powdering of snow on grass and trees. Yet still there were +breathings and bird-notes in the air, and tones of color in the +distance, which obscurely prophesied the spring. Through the wood +behind the house the snow-drops were rising, in a white invading +host, over the ground covered with the red-brown deposit of +innumerable autumns. Above their glittering white, rose an +undergrowth of laurels and box, through which again shot up the +magnificent trunks--gray and smooth and round--of the great +beeches, which held and peopled the country-side, heirs of its +ancestral forest. Any one standing in the wood could see, through +the leafless trees, the dusky blues and rich violets of the +encircling hill--hung there, like the tapestry of some vast hall; +or hear from time to time the loud wings of the wood-pigeons as +they clattered through the topmost boughs.</p> +<p>Diana was still in the village. She had been spending her hour +of escape mostly with the Roughsedges. The old doctor among his +books was now sufficiently at his ease with her to pet her, teach +her, and, when necessary, laugh at her. And Mrs. Roughsedge, +however she might feel herself eclipsed by Lady Lucy, was, in +truth, much more fit to minister to such ruffled feelings as Diana +was now conscious of than that delicate and dignified lady. Diana's +disillusion about her cousin was, so far, no very lofty matter. It +hurt; but on her run to the village the natural common-sense Mrs. +Colwood had detected had wrestled stoutly with her wounded +feelings. Better take it with a laugh! To laugh, however, one must +be distracted; and Mrs. Roughsedge, bubbling over with gossip and +good-humor, was distraction personified. Stern Justice, in the +person of Lord M.'s gamekeeper, had that morning brought back +Diana's two dogs in leash, a pair of abject and convicted villains, +from the delirium of a night's hunting. The son of Miss Bertram's +coachman had only just missed an appointment under the District +Council by one place on the list of candidates. A "Red Van" +bursting with Socialist literature had that morning taken up its +place on the village green; and Diana's poor housemaid, in payment +for a lifetime's neglect, must now lose every tooth in her head, +according to the verdict of the local dentist, an excellent young +man, in Mrs. Roughsedge's opinion, but ready to give you almost too +much pulling out for your money. On all these topics she +overflowed--with much fun and unfailing good-humor. So that after +half an hour spent with Mrs. Roughsedge and Hugh in the little +drawing-room at the White Cottage, Diana's aspect was very +different from what it had been when she arrived.</p> +<p>Hugh, however, had noticed her pallor and depression. He was +obstinately certain that Oliver Marsham was not the man to make +such a girl happy. Between the rich Radical member and the young +officer--poor, slow of speech and wits, and passionately devoted to +the old-fashioned ideals and traditions in which he had been +brought up--there was a natural antagonism. But Roughsedge's +contempt for his brilliant and successful neighbor--on the ground +of selfish ambitions and unpatriotic trucklings--was, in truth, +much more active than anything Marsham had ever shown--or +felt--toward himself. For in the young soldier there slept +potentialities of feeling and of action, of which neither he nor +others were as yet aware.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, he faced the facts. He remembered the look with +which Diana had returned to the Beechcote drawing-room, where +Marsham awaited her, the day before--and told himself not to be a +fool.</p> +<p>Meanwhile he had found an opportunity in which to tell her, +unheard by his parents, that he was practically certain of his +Nigerian appointment, and must that night break it to his father +and mother. And Diana had listened like a sister, all sympathy and +kind looks, promising in the young man's ear, as he said good-bye +at the garden gate, that she would come again next day to cheer his +mother up.</p> +<p>He stood looking after her as she walked away; his hands in his +pockets, a flush on his handsome face. How her coming had glorified +and transformed the place! No womanish nonsense, too, about this +going of his!--though she knew well that it meant fighting. Only a +kindling of the eyes--a few questions as practical as they were +eager--and then that fluttering of the soft breath which he had +noticed as she bent over his mother.</p> +<p>But she was not for him! Thus it is that women--the noblest and +the dearest--throw themselves away. She, with all the right and +proper feelings of an Englishwoman, to mate with this plausible +Radical and Little Englander! Hugh kicked the stones of the gravel +savagely to right and left as he walked back to the house--in a +black temper with his poverty and Diana's foolishness.</p> +<p>But was she really in love? "Why then so pale, fond lover?" He +found a kind of angry comfort in the remembrance of her drooping +looks. They were no credit to Marsham, anyway.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Diana walked home, lingering by the way in two or +three cottages. She was shyly beginning to make friends with the +people. An old road-mender kept her listening while he told her how +a Tallyn keeper had peppered him in the eye, ten years before, as +he was crossing Barrow Common at dusk. One eye had been taken out, +and the other was almost useless; there he sat, blind, and +cheerfully telling the tale--"Muster Marsham--Muster Henry +Marsham--had been verra kind--ten shillin' a week, and an odd job +now and then. I do suffer terr'ble, miss, at times--but ther's noa +good in grumblin'--is there?"</p> +<p>Next door, in a straggling line of cottages, she found a gentle, +chattering widow whose husband had been drowned in the brew-house +at Beechcote twenty years before, drowned in the big vat!--before +any one had heard a cry or a sound. The widow was proud of so +exceptional a tragedy; eager to tell the tale. How had she lived +since? Oh, a bit here and a bit there. And, of late, half a crown +from the parish.</p> +<p>Last of all, in a cottage midway between the village and +Beechcote, she paused to see a jolly middle-aged woman, with a +humorous eye and a stream of conversation--held prisoner by an +incurable disease. She was absolutely alone in the world. Nobody +knew what she had to live on. But she could always find a crust for +some one more destitute than herself, and she ranked high among the +wits of the village. To Diana she talked of her predecessors--the +Vavasours--whose feudal presence seemed to be still brooding over +the village. With little chuckles of laughter, she gave instance +after instance of the tyranny with which they had lorded it over +the country-side in early Victorian days: how the "Madam Vavasour" +of those days had pulled the feathers from the village-girls' hats, +and turned a family who had offended her, with all their +belongings, out into the village street. But when Diana rejoiced +that such days were done, the old woman gave a tolerant: "Noa--noa! +They were none so bad--were t' Vavasours. Only they war no good at +heirin."</p> +<p>"Airing?" said Diana, mystified.</p> +<p>"Heirin," repeated Betty Dyson, emphatically. "Theer was old +Squire Henry--wi' noabody to follow 'im--an' Mr. Edward noa +better--and now thissun, wi nobbut lasses. Noa--they war noa good +at heirin--moor's t' pity." Then she looked slyly at her companion: +"An' yo', miss? yo'll be gettin' married one o' these days, I'll +uphowd yer."</p> +<p>Diana colored and laughed.</p> +<p>"Ay," said the old woman, laughing too, with the merriment of a +girl. "Sweethearts is noa good--but you mun ha' a sweetheart!"</p> +<p>Diana fled, pursued by Betty's raillery, and then by the thought +of this lonely laughing woman, often tormented by pain, standing on +the brink of ugly death, and yet turning back to look with this +merry indulgent eye upon the past; and on this dingy old world, in +which she had played so ragged and limping a part. Yet clearly she +would play it again if she could--so sweet is mere life!--and so +hard to silence in the breast.</p> +<p>Diana walked quickly through the woods, the prey of one of those +vague storms of feeling which test and stretch the soul of +youth.</p> +<p>To what horrors had she been listening?--the suffering of the +blinded road-mender--the grotesque and hideous death of the young +laborer in his full strength--the griefs of a childless and +penniless old woman? Yet life had somehow engulfed the horrors; and +had spread its quiet waves above them, under a pale, late-born +sunshine. The stoicism of the poor rebuked her, as she thought of +the sharp impatience and disappointment in which she had parted +from Mrs. Colwood.</p> +<p>She seemed to hear her father's voice. "No shirking, Diana! You +asked her--you formed absurd and exaggerated expectations. She is +here; and she is not responsible for your expectations. Make the +best of her, and do your duty!"</p> +<p>And eagerly the child's heart answered: "Yes, yes, papa!--dear +papa!"</p> +<p>And there, sharp in color and line, it rose on the breast of +memory, the beloved face. It set pulses beating in Diana which from +her childhood onward had been a life within her life, a pain +answering to pain, the child's inevitable response to the father's +misery, always discerned, never understood.</p> +<p>This abiding remembrance of a dumb unmitigable grief beside +which she had grown up, of which she had never known the secret, +was indeed one of the main factors in Diana's personality. Muriel +Colwood had at once perceived it; Marsham had been sometimes +puzzled by the signs of it.</p> +<p>To-day--because of Fanny and this toppling of her dreams--the +dark mood, to which Diana was always liable, had descended heavily +upon her. She had no sooner rebuked it--by the example of the poor, +or the remembrance of her father's long patience--than she was torn +by questions, vehement, insistent, full of a new anguish.</p> +<p>Why had her father been so unhappy? What was the meaning of that +cloud under which she had grown up?</p> +<p>She had repeated to Muriel Colwood the stock explanations she +had been accustomed to give herself of the manner and circumstances +of her bringing-up. To-day they seemed to her own mind, for the +first time, utterly insufficient. In a sudden crash and confusion +of feeling it was as though she were tearing open the heart of the +past, passionately probing and searching.</p> +<p>Certain looks and phrases of Fanny Merton were really working in +her memory. They were so light--yet so ugly. They suggested +something, but so vaguely that Diana could find no words for it: a +note of desecration, of cheapening--a breath of dishonor. It was as +though a mourner, shut in for years with sacred memories, became +suddenly aware that all the time, in a sordid world outside, these +very memories had been the sport of an unkind and insolent chatter +that besmirched them.</p> +<p>Her mother!</p> +<p>In the silence of the wood the girl's slender figure stiffened +itself against an attacking thought. In her inmost mind she knew +well that it was from her mother--and her mother's death--that all +the strangeness of the past descended. But yet the death and grief +she remembered had never presented themselves to her as they appear +to other bereaved ones. Why had nobody ever spoken to her of her +mother in her childhood and youth?--neither father, nor nurses, nor +her old French governess? Why had she no picture--no relics--no +letters? In the box of "Sparling Papers" there was nothing that +related to Mrs. Sparling; that she knew, for her father had +abruptly told her so not long before his death. They were old +family records which he could not bear to destroy--the honorable +records of an upright race, which some day, he thought, "might be a +pleasure to her."</p> +<p>Often during the last six months of his life, it seemed to her +now, in this intensity of memory, that he had been on the point of +breaking the silence of a lifetime. She recalled moments and looks +of agonized effort and yearning. But he died of a growth in the +throat; and for weeks before the end speech was forbidden them, on +account of the constant danger of hemorrhage. So that Diana had +always felt herself starved of those last words and messages which +make the treasure of bereaved love. Often and often the cry of her +loneliness to her dead father had been the bitter cry of Andromache +to Hector; "I had from thee, in dying, no memorable word on which I +might ever think in the year of mourning while I wept for +thee."</p> +<p>Had there been a quarrel between her father and mother?--or +something worse?--at which Diana's ignorance of life, imposed upon +her by her upbringing, could only glance in shuddering? She knew +her mother had died at twenty-six; and that in the two years before +her death Mr. Mallory had been much away, travelling and exploring +in Asia Minor. The young wife must have been often alone. Diana, +with a sudden catching of the breath, envisaged possibilities of +which no rational being of full age who reads a newspaper can be +unaware.</p> +<p>Then, with an inward passion of denial, she shook the whole +nightmare from her. Outrage!--treason!--to those helpless memories +of which she was now the only guardian. In these easy, forgetting +days, when the old passions and endurances look to us either +affected or eccentric, such a life, such an exile as her father's, +may seem strange even--so she accused herself--to that father's +child. But that is because we are mean souls beside those who begot +us. We cannot feel as they; and our constancy, compared to theirs, +is fickleness.</p> +<p>So, in spirit, she knelt again beside her dead, embracing their +cold feet and asking pardon.</p> +<p>The tears clouded her eyes; she wandered blindly on through the +wood till she was conscious of sudden light and space. She had come +to a clearing, where several huge beeches had been torn up by a +storm some years before. Their place had been filled by a tangle of +many saplings, and in their midst rose an elder-bush, already +showing leaf, amid the bare winterly wood. The last western light +caught the twinkling leaf buds, and made of the tree a Burning +Bush, first herald of the spring.</p> +<p>The sight of it unloosed some swell of passion in Diana; she +found herself smiling amid her tears, and saying incoherent things +that only the wood caught.</p> +<p>To-day was the meeting of Parliament. She pictured the scene. +Marsham was there, full of projects and ambitions. Innocently, +exultantly, she reminded herself how much she knew of them. If he +could not have her sympathy, he must have her antagonism. But no +chilling exclusions and reserves! Rather, a generous confidence on +his side; and a gradual, a child-like melting and kindling on hers. +In politics she would never agree with him--never!--she would fight +him with all her breath and strength. But not with the methods of +Mrs. Fotheringham. No!--what have politics to do with--with--</p> +<p>She dropped her face in her hands, laughing to herself, the +delicious tremors of first love running through her. Would she hear +from him? She understood she was to be written to, though she had +never asked it. But ought she to allow it? Was it +<i>convenable</i>? She knew that girls now did what they +liked--threw all the old rules overboard. But--proudly--she stood +by the old rules; she would do nothing "fast" or forward. Yet she +was an orphan--standing alone; surely for her there might be more +freedom than for others?</p> +<p>She hurried home. With the rush of new happiness had come back +the old pity, the old yearning. It wasn't, wasn't Fanny's fault! +She--Diana--had always understood that Mr. Merton was a vulgar, +grasping man of no breeding who had somehow entrapped "your aunt +Bertha--who was very foolish and very young"--into a most +undesirable marriage. As for Mrs. Merton--Aunt Bertha--Fanny had +with her many photographs, among them several of her mother. A +weak, heavy face, rather pretty still. Diana had sought her own +mother in it, with a passionate yet shrinking curiosity, only to +provoke a rather curt reply from Fanny, in answer to a question she +had, with difficulty, brought herself to put:</p> +<p>"Not a bit! There wasn't a scrap of likeness between mother and +Aunt Sparling."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The evening passed off better than the morning had done. Eyes +more acute in her own interests than Diana's might have perceived a +change in Fanny Merton, after her long conversation with Mrs. +Colwood. A certain excitement, a certain triumph, perhaps an +occasional relenting and compunction: all these might have been +observed or guessed. She made herself quite amiable: showed more +photographs, talked still more frankly of her card-winnings on the +steamer, and of the flirtation which had beguiled the voyage; +bespoke the immediate services of Diana's maid for a dress that +must be done up; and expressed a desire for another and a bigger +wardrobe in her room. Gradually a tone of possession, almost of +command, crept in. Diana, astonished and amused, made no +resistance. These, she supposed, were West-Indian manners. The +Colonies are like healthy children that submit in their youth, and +then grow up and order the household about. What matter!</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Colwood looked a little pale, and confessed to a +headache. Diana was pleased, however, to see that she and Fanny +were getting on better than had seemed to be probable in the +morning. Fanny wished--nay, was resolved--to be entertained and +amused, Mrs. Colwood threw herself with new zest into the various +plans Diana had made for her cousin. There was to be a +luncheon-party, an afternoon tea, and so forth. Only Diana, pricked +by a new mistrust, said nothing in public about an engagement she +had (to spend a Saturday-to-Monday with Lady Lucy at Tallyn three +weeks later), though she and Muriel made anxious plans as to what +could be done to amuse Fanny during the two days.</p> +<p>Diana was alone in her room at night when Mrs. Colwood knocked. +Would Diana give her some lavender-water?--her headache was still +severe. Diana new to minister to her; but, once admitted, Muriel +said no more of her headache. Rather she began to soothe and caress +Diana. Was she in better spirits? Let her only intrust the +entertaining of Fanny Merton to her friend and companion--Mrs. +Colwood would see to it. Diana laughed, and silenced her with a +kiss.</p> +<p>Presently they were sitting by the fire, Muriel Colwood in a +large arm-chair, a frail, fair creature, with her large +dark-circled eyes, and her thin hands and arms; Diana kneeling +beside her.</p> +<p>"I had no idea what a poison poverty could be!" said Muriel, +abruptly, with her gaze on the fire.</p> +<p>"My cousin?" Diana looked up startled. "Was that what she was +saying to you?"</p> +<p>Muriel nodded assent. Her look--so anxious and tender--held, +enveloped her companion.</p> +<p>"Are they in debt?" said Diana, slowly.</p> +<p>"Terribly. They seem to be going to break up their home."</p> +<p>"Did she tell you all about it?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood hesitated.</p> +<p>"A great deal more than I wanted to know!" she said, at last, as +though the words broke from her.</p> +<p>Diana thought a little.</p> +<p>"I wonder--whether that was--what she came home for?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood moved uneasily.</p> +<p>"I suppose if you are in those straits you don't really think of +anything else--though you may wish to."</p> +<p>"Did she tell you how much they want?" said Diana, quickly.</p> +<p>"She named a thousand pounds!"</p> +<p>Muriel might have been describing her own embarrassments, so +scarlet had she become.</p> +<p>"A thousand pounds!" cried Diana, in amazement. "But then +why--why--does she have so many frocks--and play cards for +money--and bet on races?"</p> +<p>She threw her arms round Mrs. Colwood's knees impetuously.</p> +<p>Muriel's small hand smoothed back the girl's hair, timidly yet +eagerly.</p> +<p>"I suppose that's the way they've been brought up."</p> +<p>"A thousand pounds! And does she expect me to provide it?"</p> +<p>"I am afraid--she hopes it."</p> +<p>"But I haven't got it!" cried Diana, sitting down on the floor. +"I've spent more than I ought on this place; I'm overdrawn; I ought +to be economical for a long time. You know, Muriel, I'm not really +rich."</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood colored deeper than ever. But apparently she could +think of nothing to say. Her eyes were riveted on her +companion.</p> +<p>"No, I'm not rich," resumed Diana, with a frown, drawing circles +on the ground with her finger. "Perhaps I oughtn't to have taken +this house. I dare say it was horrid of me. But I couldn't have +known--could I?--that Fanny would be coming and want a thousand +pounds?"</p> +<p>She looked up expecting sympathy--perhaps a little indignation. +Mrs. Colwood only said:</p> +<p>"I suppose she would not have come over--if things had not been +<i>very</i> bad."</p> +<p>"Why didn't she give me some warning?" cried Diana--"instead of +talking about French lessons! But am I bound--do <i>you</i> think I +am bound?--to give the Mertons a thousand pounds? I know papa got +tired of giving them money. I wonder if it's <i>right</i>!"</p> +<p>She frowned. Her voice was a little stern. Her eyes flashed.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood again touched her hair with a hand that +trembled.</p> +<p>"They are your only relations, aren't they?" she said, +pleadingly.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Diana, still with the same roused look.</p> +<p>"Perhaps it would set them on their feet altogether."</p> +<p>The girl gave a puzzled laugh.</p> +<p>"Did she--Muriel, did she ask you to tell me?"</p> +<p>"I think she wanted me to break it to you," said Mrs. Colwood, +after a moment. "And I thought it--it might save you pain."</p> +<p>"Just like you!" Diana stooped to kiss her hand. "That's what +your headache meant! Well, but now--ought I--ought I--to do +it?"</p> +<p>She clasped her hands round her knees and swayed backward and +forward--pondering--with a rather sombre brow. Mrs. Colwood's +expression was hidden in the darkness of the big chair.</p> +<p>"--Always supposing I can do it," resumed Diana. "And I +certainly couldn't do it at once; I haven't got it. I should have +to sell something, or borrow from the bank. No, I must think--I +must think over it," she added more resolutely, as though her way +cleared.</p> +<p>"Of course," said Mrs. Colwood, faintly. Then she raised +herself. "Let me tell her so--let me save you the +conversation."</p> +<p>"You dear!--but why should you!" said Diana, in amazement.</p> +<p>"Let me."</p> +<p>"If you like! But I can't have Fanny making you look like this. +Please, please go to bed."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>An hour later Mrs. Colwood, in her room, was still up and +dressed, hanging motionless, and deep in thought, over the dying +fire. And before she went to sleep--far in the small hours--her +pillow was wet with crying.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> +<p>"I thought I'd perhaps better let you know--I'm--well, I'm going +to have a talk with Diana this morning!"</p> +<p>The voice was determined. Muriel Colwood--startled and +dismayed--surveyed the speaker. She had been waylaid on the +threshold of her room. The morning was half-way through. Visitors, +including Mr. Fred Birch, were expected to lunch, and Miss Merton, +who had been lately invisible, had already, she saw, changed her +dress. At breakfast, it seemed to Mrs. Colwood, she had been barely +presentable: untidy hair, a dress with various hooks missing, and +ruffles much in need of washing. Muriel could only suppose that the +carelessness of her attire was meant to mark the completeness of +her conquest of Beechcote. But now her gown of scarlet velveteen, +her arms bare to the elbow, her frizzled and curled hair, the +powder which gave a bluish white to her complexion, the bangles and +beads which adorned her, showed her armed to the last pin for the +encounters of the luncheon-table.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood, however, after a first dazzled look at what she +wore, thought only of what she said. She hurriedly drew the girl +into her own room, and shut the door. When, after some +conversation, Fanny emerged, Mrs. Colwood was left in a state of +agitation that was partly fear, partly helpless indignation. During +the fortnight since Miss Merton's arrival all the energies of the +house had been devoted to her amusement. A little whirlwind of +dissipation had blown through the days. Two meets, a hockey-match, +a concert at the neighboring town, a dinner-party and various +"drums," besides a luncheon-party and afternoon tea at Beechcote +itself in honor of the guest--Mrs. Colwood thought the girl might +have been content! But she had examined everything presented to her +with a very critical eye, and all through it had been plain that +she was impatient and dissatisfied; for, inevitably, her social +success was not great. Diana, on the other hand, was still a new +sensation, and something of a queen wherever she went. Her +welcoming eyes, her impetuous smile drew a natural homage; and +Fanny followed sulkily in her wake, accepted--not without +surprise--as Miss Mallory's kinswoman, but distinguished by no +special attentions.</p> +<p>In any case, she would have rebelled against the situation. Her +vanity was amazing, her temper violent. At home she had been +treated as a beauty, and had ruled the family with a firm view to +her own interests. What in Alicia Drake was disguised by a thousand +subleties of class and training was here seen in its crudest form. +But there was more besides--miserably plain now to this trembling +spectator. The resentment of Diana's place in life, as of something +robbed, not earned--the scarcely concealed claim either to share it +or attack it--these things were no longer riddles to Muriel +Colwood. Rather they were the storm-signs of a coming tempest, +already darkening above an innocent head.</p> +<p>What could she do? The little lady gave her days and nights to +the question, and saw no way out. Sometimes she hoped that Diana's +personality had made an impression on this sinister guest; she +traced a grudging consciousness in Fanny of her cousin's generosity +and charm. But this perception only led to fresh despondency. +Whenever Fanny softened, it showed itself in a claim to intimacy, +as sudden and as violent as her ill-temper. She must be Diana's +first and dearest--be admitted to all Diana's secrets and +friendships. Then on Diana's side, inevitable withdrawal, +shrinking, self-defence--and on Fanny's a hotter and more acrid +jealousy.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, as Mrs. Colwood knew, Diana had been engaged in +correspondence with her solicitors, who had been giving her some +prudent and rather stringent advice on the subject of income and +expenditure. This morning, so Mrs. Colwood believed, a letter had +arrived.</p> +<p>Presently she stole out of her room to the head of the stairs. +There she remained, pale and irresolute, for a little while, +listening to the sounds in the house. But the striking of the hall +clock, the sighing of a stormy wind round the house, and, +occasionally, a sound of talking in the drawing-room, was all she +heard.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Diana had been busy in the hanging of some last pictures in the +drawing-room--photographs from Italian pictures and monuments. They +had belonged to her father, and had been the dear companions of her +childhood. Each, as she handled it, breathed its own memory; of the +little villa on the Portofino road, with its green shutters, and +rooms closed against the sun; or of the two short visits to Lucca +and Florence she had made with her father.</p> +<p>Among the photographs was one of the "Annunciation" by +Donatello, which glorifies the southern wall of Santa Croce. Diana +had just hung it in a panelled corner, where its silvery brilliance +on dark wood made a point of pleasure for the eye. She lingered +before it, wondering whether it would please <i>him</i> when he +came. Unconsciously her life had slipped into this habit of +referring all its pains and pleasures to the unseen friend--holding +with him that constant dialogue of the heart without which love +neither begins nor grows.</p> +<p>Yet she no longer dreamed of discussing Fanny, and the +perplexities Fanny had let loose on Beechcote, with the living +Marsham. Money affairs must be kept to one's self; and somehow +Fanny's visit had become neither more nor less than a money +affair.</p> +<p>That morning Diana had received a letter from old Mr. Riley, the +head of the firm of Riley & Bonner--a letter which was almost a +lecture. If the case were indeed urgent, said Mr. Riley, if the +money must be found, she could, of course, borrow on her +securities, and the firm would arrange it for her. But Mr. Riley, +excusing himself as her father's old friend, wrote with his own +hand to beg her to consider the matter further. Her expenses had +lately been many, and some of her property might possibly decline +in value during the next few years. A prudent management of her +affairs was really essential. Could not the money be gradually +saved out of income?</p> +<p>Diana colored uncomfortably as she thought of the letter. What +did the dear old man suppose she wanted the money for? It hurt her +pride that she must appear in this spendthrift light to eyes so +honest and scrupulous.</p> +<p>But what could she do? Fanny poured out ugly reports of her +mother's financial necessities to Muriel Colwood; Mrs. Colwood +repeated them to Diana. And the Mertons were Diana's only kinsfolk. +The claim of blood pressed her hard.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, with a shrinking distaste, she had tried to avoid the +personal discussion of the matter with Fanny. The task of curbing +the girl's impatience, day after day, had fallen to Mrs. +Colwood.</p> +<p>Diana was still standing in a reverie before the "Annunciation" +when the drawing-room door opened. As she looked round her, she +drew herself sharply together with the movement of a sudden and +instinctive antipathy.</p> +<p>"That's all right," said Fanny Merton, surveying the room with +satisfaction, and closing the door behind her. "I thought I'd find +you alone."</p> +<p>Diana remained nervously standing before the picture, awaiting +her cousin, her eyes wider than usual, one hand at her throat.</p> +<p>"Look here," said Fanny, approaching her, "I want to talk to +you."</p> +<p>Diana braced herself. "All right." She threw a look at the +clock. "Just give me time to get tidy before lunch."</p> +<p>"Oh, there's an hour--time enough!"</p> +<p>Diana drew forward an arm-chair for Fanny, and settled herself +into the corner of a sofa. Her dog jumped up beside her, and laid +his nose on her lap.</p> +<p>Fanny held herself straight. Her color under the powder had +heightened a little. The two girls confronted each other, and, +vaguely, perhaps, each felt the strangeness of the situation. Fanny +was twenty, Diana twenty-three. They were of an age when girls are +generally under the guidance or authority of their elders; +comparatively little accustomed, in the normal family, to discuss +affairs or take independent decisions. Yet here they met, alone and +untrammelled; as hostess and guest in the first place; as +kinswomen, yet comparative strangers to each other, and conscious +of a secret dislike, each for the other. On the one side, an +exultant and partly cruel consciousness of power; on the other, +feelings of repugnance and revolt, only held in check by the forces +of a tender and scrupulous nature.</p> +<p>Fanny cleared her throat.</p> +<p>"Well, of course, Mrs. Colwood's told me all you've been saying +to her. And I don't say I'm surprised."</p> +<p>Diana opened her large eyes.</p> +<p>"Surprised at what?"</p> +<p>"Surprised--well!--surprised you didn't see your way all at +once, and that kind of thing. I know I'd want to ask a lot of +questions--shouldn't I, just! Why, that's what I expected. But, you +see, my time in England's getting on. I've nothing to say to my +people, and they bother my life out every mail."</p> +<p>"What did you really come to England for?" said Diana, in a low +voice. Her attitude, curled up among the cushions of the sofa, gave +her an almost childish air. Fanny, on the other hand, resplendent +in her scarlet dress and high coiffure, might have been years older +than her cousin. And any stranger watching the face in which the +hardness of an "old campaigner" already strove with youth, would +have thought her, and not Diana, the mistress of the house.</p> +<p>At Diana's question, Fanny's eyes flickered a moment.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, I had lots of things in my mind. But it was the money +that mattered most."</p> +<p>"I see," murmured Diana.</p> +<p>Fanny fidgeted a little with one of the three bead necklaces +which adorned her. Then she broke out:</p> +<p>"Look here, Diana, you've never been poor in your life, so you +don't know what it's like being awfully hard up. But ever since +father died, mother's had a frightful lot of trouble--all of us to +keep, and the boys' schooling to pay, and next to nothing to do it +on. Father left everything in a dreadful muddle. He never had a bit +of sense--"</p> +<p>Diana made a sudden movement. Fanny looked at her astonished, +expecting her to speak. Diana, however, said nothing, and the girl +resumed:</p> +<p>"I mean, in business. He'd got everything into a shocking state, +and instead of six hundred a year for us--as we'd always been led +on to expect--well, there wasn't three! Then, you know, Uncle +Mallory used to send us money. Well" (she cleared her throat again +and looked away from Diana), "about a year before he died he and +father fell out about something--so <i>that</i> didn't come in any +more. Then we thought perhaps he'd remember us in his will. And +that was another disappointment. So, you see, really mother didn't +know where to turn."</p> +<p>"I suppose papa thought he had done all he could," said Diana, +in a voice which tried to keep quite steady. "He never denied any +claim he felt just. I feel I must say that, because you seem to +blame papa. But, of course, I am very sorry for Aunt Bertha."</p> +<p>At the words "claim" and "just" there was a quick change of +expression in Fanny's eyes. She broke out angrily: "Well, you +really don't know about it, Diana, so it's no good talking. And I'm +not going to rake up old things--"</p> +<p>"But if I don't know," said Diana, interrupting, "hadn't you +better tell me? Why did papa and Uncle Merton disagree? And why did +you think papa ought to have left you money?" She bent forward +insistently. There was a dignity--perhaps also a touch of +haughtiness--in her bearing which exasperated the girl beside her. +The haughtiness was that of one who protects the dead. But Fanny's +mind was not one that perceived the finer shades.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm not going to say!" said Fanny, with vehemence. "But I +can tell you, mother <i>has</i> a claim!--and Uncle Mallory +<i>ought</i> to have left us something!"</p> +<p>The instant the words were out she regretted them. Diana +abandoned her childish attitude. She drew herself together, and sat +upright on the edge of the sofa. The color had come flooding back +hotly into her cheeks, and the slightly frowning look produced by +the effort to see the face before her distinctly gave a peculiar +intensity to the eyes.</p> +<p>"Fanny, please!--you must tell me why!"</p> +<p>The tone, resolute, yet appealing, put Fanny in an evident +embarrassment.</p> +<p>"Well, I can't," she said, after a moment--"so it's no good +asking me." Then suddenly, she hesitated--"or--at least--"</p> +<p>"At least what? Please go on."</p> +<p>Fanny wriggled again, then said, with a burst:</p> +<p>"Well, my mother was Aunt Sparling's younger sister--you know +that--don't you?--"</p> +<p>"Of course."</p> +<p>"And our grandfather died a year before Aunt Sparling. She was +mother's trustee. Oh, the money's all right--the trust money, I +mean," said the girl, hastily. "But it was a lot of other +things--that mother says grandpapa always meant to divide between +her and Aunt Sparling--and she never had them--nor a farthing out +of them!"</p> +<p>"What other things? I don't understand."</p> +<p>"Jewels!--there!--jewels--and a lot of plate. Mother says she +had a right to half the things that belonged to her mother. +Grandpapa always told her she should have them. And there wasn't a +word about them in the will."</p> +<p>"<i>I</i> haven't any diamonds," said Diana, quietly, "or any +jewels at all, except a string of pearls papa gave me when I was +nineteen, and two or three little things we bought in +Florence."</p> +<p>Fanny Merton grew still redder; she stared aggressively at her +cousin:</p> +<p>"Well--that was because--Aunt Sparling sold all the things!"</p> +<p>Diana started and recoiled.</p> +<p>"You mean," she said--her breath fluttering--"that--mamma sold +things she had no right to--and never gave Aunt Bertha the +money!"</p> +<p>The restrained passion of her look had an odd effect upon her +companion. Fanny first wavered under it, then laughed--a laugh that +was partly perplexity, partly something else, indecipherable.</p> +<p>"Well, as I wasn't born then, I don't know. You needn't be cross +with me, Diana; I didn't mean to say any harm of anybody. +But--mother says"--she laid an obstinate stress on each word--"that +she remembers quite well--grandpapa meant her to have: a diamond +necklace; a <i>rivière</i>" (she began to check the items +off on her fingers)--"there were two, and of course Aunt Sparling +had the best; two bracelets, one with turquoises and one with +pearls; a diamond brooch; an opal pendant; a little watch set with +diamonds grandma used to wear; and then a lot of plate! Mother +wrote me out a list--I've got it here."</p> +<p>She opened a beaded bag on her wrist, took out half a sheet of +paper, and handed it to Diana.</p> +<p>Diana looked at it in silence. Even her lips were white, and her +fingers shook.</p> +<p>"Did you ever send this to papa?" she asked, after a minute.</p> +<p>Fanny fidgeted again.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And what did he say? Have you got his letter?"</p> +<p>"No; I haven't got his letter."</p> +<p>"Did he admit that--that mamma had done this?"</p> +<p>Fanny hesitated: but her intelligence, which was of a simple +kind, did not suggest to her an ingenious line of reply.</p> +<p>"Well, I dare say he didn't. But that doesn't make any +difference."</p> +<p>"Was that what he and Uncle Merton quarrelled about?"</p> +<p>Fanny hesitated again; then broke out: "Father only did what he +ought--he asked for what was owed mother!"</p> +<p>"And papa wouldn't give it!" cried Diana, in a strange note of +scorn; "papa, who never could rest if he owed a farthing to +anybody--who always overpaid everybody--whom everybody--"</p> +<br> +<a name="image-174.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-174.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-174.jpg" width="100%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"You needn't be cross with me, Diana"</b></p> +<br> +<p>She rose suddenly with a bitten lip. Her eyes blazed--and her +cheeks. She walked to the window and stood looking out, in a +whirlwind of feeling and memory, hiding her face as best she could +from the girl who sat watching her with an expression half sulky, +half insolent. Diana was thinking of moments--recalling forgotten +fragments of dialogue--in the past, which showed her father's +opinion of his Barbadoes brother-in-law: "A grasping, ill-bred +fellow"--"neither gratitude, nor delicacy"--"has been the evil +genius of his wife, and will be the ruin of his children." She did +not believe a word of Fanny's story--not a word of it!</p> +<p>She turned impetuously. Then, as her eyes met Fanny's, a shock +ran through her--the same sudden, inexplicable fear which had +seized on Mrs. Colwood, only more sickening, more paralyzing. And +it was a fear which ran back to and linked itself with the hour of +heart-searching in the wood. What was Fanny thinking of?--what was +in her mind--on her lips? Impulses she could not have defined, +terrors to which she could give no name, crept over Diana's will +and disabled it. She trembled from head to foot--and gave way.</p> +<p>She walked up to her cousin.</p> +<p>"Fanny, is there any letter--anything of grandpapa's--or of my +mother's--that you could show me?"</p> +<p>"No! It was a promise, I tell you--there was no writing. But my +mother could swear to it."</p> +<p>The girl faced her cousin without flinching. Diana sat down +again, white and tremulous, the moment of energy, of resistance, +gone. In a wavering voice she began to explain that she had, in +fact, been inquiring into her affairs, that the money was not +actually at her disposal, that to provide it would require an +arrangement with her bankers, and the depositing of some +securities; but that, before long, it should be available.</p> +<p>Fanny drew a long breath. She had not expected the surrender. +Her eyes sparkled, and she began to stammer thanks.</p> +<p>"Don't!" said Diana, putting out a hand. "If I owe it you--and I +take it on your word--the money shall be paid--that's all. +Only--only, I wish you had not written to me like that; and I ask +that--that--you will never, please, speak to me about it +again!"</p> +<p>She had risen, and was standing, very tall and rigid, her hands +pressing against each other.</p> +<p>Fanny's face clouded.</p> +<p>"Very well," she said, as she rose from her seat, "I'm sure I +don't want to talk about it. I didn't like the job a bit--nor did +mother. But if you are poor--and somebody owes you something--you +can't help trying to get it--that's all!"</p> +<p>Diana said nothing. She went to the writing-table and began to +arrange some letters. Fanny looked at her.</p> +<p>"I say, Diana!--perhaps you won't want me to stay here +after--You seem to have taken against me."</p> +<p>Diana turned.</p> +<p>"No," she said, faintly. Then, with a little sob: "I thought of +nothing but your coming."</p> +<p>Fanny flushed.</p> +<p>"Well, of course you've been very kind to me--and all that sort +of thing. I wasn't saying you hadn't been. Except--Well, no, +there's one thing I <i>do</i> think you've been rather nasty +about!"</p> +<p>The girl threw back her head defiantly.</p> +<p>Diana's pale face questioned her.</p> +<p>"I was talking to your maid yesterday," said Fanny, slowly, "and +she says you're going to stay at some smart place next week, and +you've been getting a new dress for it. And you've never said a +<i>word</i> to me about it--let alone ask me to go with you!"</p> +<p>Diana looked at her amazed.</p> +<p>"You mean--I'm going to Tallyn!"</p> +<p>"That's it," said Fanny, reproachfully. "And you know I don't +get a lot of fun at home--and I might as well be seeing people--and +going about with you--though I do have to play second fiddle. +You're rich, of course--everybody's nice to you--"</p> +<p>She paused. Diana, struck dumb, could find, for the moment, +nothing to say. The red named in Fanny's cheeks, and she turned +away with a flounce.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, you'd better say it at once--you're ashamed of me! I +haven't had your blessed advantages! Do you think I don't know +that!"</p> +<p>In the girl's heightened voice and frowning brow there was a +touch of fury, of goaded pride, that touched Diana with a sudden +remorse. She ran toward her cousin--appealing:</p> +<p>"I'm <i>very</i> sorry, Fanny. I--I don't like to leave you--but +they are my great friends--and Lady Lucy, though she's very kind, +is very old-fashioned. One couldn't take the smallest liberty with +her. I don't think I could ask to take you--when they are quite by +themselves--and the house is only half mounted. But Mrs. Colwood +and I had been thinking of several things that might amuse you--and +I shall only be two nights away."</p> +<p>"I don't want any amusing--thanks!" said Fanny, walking to the +door.</p> +<p>She closed it behind her. Diana clasped her hands overhead in a +gesture of amazement.</p> +<p>"To quarrel with me about that--after--the other thing!"</p> +<p>No!--not Tallyn!--not Tallyn!--anywhere, anything, but that!</p> +<p>Was she proud?--snobbish? Her eyes filled with tears, but her +will hardened. What was to be gained? Fanny would not like them, +nor they her.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The luncheon-party had been arranged for Mr. Birch, Fanny's +train acquaintance. Diana had asked the Roughsedges, explaining the +matter, with a half-deprecating, half-humorous face, to the +comfortable ear of Mrs. Roughsedge. Explanation was necessary, for +this particular young man was only welcome in those houses of the +neighborhood which were not socially dainty. Mrs. Roughsedge +understood at once--laughed heartily--accepted with equal +heartiness--and then, taking Diana's hand, she said, with a shining +of her gray eye:</p> +<p>"My dear, if you want Henry and me to stand on our heads we will +attempt it with pleasure. You are an angel!--and angels are not to +be worried by solicitors."</p> +<p>The first part of which remark referred to a certain morning +after Hugh's announcement of his appointment to the Nigerian +expedition, when Diana had shown the old people a sweet and +daughter-like sympathy, which had entirely won whatever portion of +their hearts remained still to be captured.</p> +<p>Hugh, meanwhile, was not yet gone, though he was within a +fortnight of departure. He was coming to luncheon, with his +parents, in order to support Diana. The family had seen Miss Merton +some two or three times, and were all strongly of opinion that +Diana very much wanted supporting. "Why should one be civil to +one's cousin?" Dr. Roughsedge inquired of his wife. "If they are +nice, let them stand on their own merits. If not, they are +disagreeable people who know a deal too much about you. Miss Diana +should have consulted me!"</p> +<p>The Roughsedges arrived early, and found Diana alone in the +drawing-room. Again Captain Roughsedge thought her pale, and was +even sure that she had lost flesh. This time it was hardly possible +to put these symptoms down to Marsham's account. He chafed under +the thought that he should be no longer there in case a league, +offensive and defensive, had in the end to be made with Mrs. +Colwood for the handling of cousins. It was quite clear that Miss +Fanny was a vulgar little minx, and that Beechcote would have no +peace till it was rid of her. Meanwhile, the indefinable change +which had come over his mother's face, during the preceding week, +had escaped even the quick eyes of an affectionate son. Alas! for +mothers--when Lalage appears!</p> +<p>Mr. Birch arrived to the minute, and when he was engaged in +affable conversation with Diana, Fanny, last of the party--the door +being ceremoniously thrown open by the butler--entered, with an +air. Mr. Birch sprang effusively to his feet, and there was a noisy +greeting between him and his travelling companion. The young man +was slim, and effeminately good-looking. His frock-coat and gray +trousers were new and immaculate; his small feet were encased in +shining patent-leather boots, and his blue eyes gave the impression +of having been carefully matched with his tie. He was evidently +delighted to find himself at Beechcote, and it might have been +divined that there was a spice of malice in his pleasure. The +Vavasours had always snubbed him; Miss Mallory herself had not been +over-polite to him on one or two occasions; but her cousin was a +"stunner," and, secure in Fanny's exuberant favor, he made himself +quite at home. Placed on Diana's left at table, he gave her much +voluble information about her neighbors, mostly ill-natured; he +spoke familiarly of "that clever chap Marsham," as of a politician +who owed his election for the division entirely to the good offices +of Mr. Fred Birch's firm, and described Lady Lucy as "an old dear," +though very "frowsty" in her ideas. He was strongly of opinion that +Marsham should find an heiress as soon as possible, for there was +no saying how "long the old lady would see him out of his money," +and everybody knew that at present "she kept him beastly short." +"As for me," the speaker wound up, with an engaging and pensive +<i>naïveté</i>, "I've talked to him till I'm +tired."</p> +<p>At last he was headed away from Tallyn and its owners, only to +fall into a rapturous debate with Fanny over a racing bet which +seemed to have been offered and taken on the journey which first +made them acquainted. Fanny had lost, but the young man gallantly +excused her.</p> +<p>"No--no, couldn't think of it! Not till next time. Then--my +word!--I'll come down upon you--won't I? Teach you to know your way +about--eh?"</p> +<p>Loud laughter from Fanny, who professed to know her way about +already. They exchanged "tips"--until at last Mr. Birch, lost in +admiration of his companion, pronounced her a "ripper"--he had +never yet met a lady so well up--"why, you know as much as a +man!"</p> +<p>Dr. Roughsedge meanwhile observed the type. The father, an +old-fashioned steady-going solicitor, had sent the son to expensive +schools, and allowed him two years at Oxford, until the College had +politely requested the youth's withdrawal. The business was long +established, and had been sound. This young man had now been a +partner in it for two years, and the same period had seen the rise +to eminence of another and hitherto obscure firm in the county +town. Mr. Fred Birch spoke contemptuously of the rival firm as +"smugs"; but the district was beginning to intrust its wills and +mortgages to the "smugs" with a sad and increasing alacrity.</p> +<p>There were, indeed, some secret discomforts in the young man's +soul; and while he sported with Fanny he did not forget business. +The tenant of Beechcote was, <i>ipso facto</i>, of some social +importance, and Diana was reported to be rich; the Roughsedges +also, though negligible financially, were not without influence in +high places; and the doctor was governor of an important +grammar-school recently revived and reorganized, wherewith the +Birches would have been glad to be officially connected. He +therefore made himself agreeable.</p> +<p>"You read, sir, a great deal?" he said to the doctor, with a +professional change of voice.</p> +<p>The doctor, who, like most great men, was a trifle greedy, was +silently enjoying a dish of oysters delicately rolled in bacon. He +looked up at his questioner.</p> +<p>"A great deal, Mr. Birch."</p> +<p>"Everything, in fact?"</p> +<p>"Everything--except, of course, what is indispensable."</p> +<p>Mr. Birch looked puzzled.</p> +<p>"I heard of you from the Duchess, doctor. She says you are one +of the most learned men in England."</p> +<p>"The Duchess?" The doctor screwed up his eyes and looked round +the table.</p> +<p>Mr. Birch, with complacency, named the wife of a neighboring +potentate who owned half the county.</p> +<p>"Don't know her," said the doctor--"don't know her; and--excuse +the barbarity--don't wish to know her."</p> +<p>"Oh, but so charming!" cried Mr. Birch--"and so kind!"</p> +<p>The doctor shook his head, and declared that great ladies were +not to his taste. "Poodles, sir, poodles! 'fed on cream and +muffins!'--there is no trusting them."</p> +<p>"Poodles!" said Fanny, in astonishment. "Why are duchesses like +poodles?"</p> +<p>The doctor bowed to her.</p> +<p>"I give it up, Miss Merton. Ask Sydney Smith."</p> +<p>Fanny was mystified, and the sulky look appeared.</p> +<p>"Well, I know I should like to be a duchess. Why shouldn't one +want to be a duchess?"</p> +<p>"Why not indeed?" said the doctor, helping himself to another +oyster. "That's why they exist."</p> +<p>"I suppose you're teasing," said Fanny, rather crossly.</p> +<p>"I am quite incapable of it," protested the doctor. "Shall we +not all agree that duchesses exist for the envy and jealousy of +mankind?"</p> +<p>"Womankind?" put in Diana. The doctor smiled at her, and +finished his oyster. Brave child! Had that odious young woman been +behaving in character that morning? He would like to have the +dealing with her! As for Diana, her face reminded him of Cowper's +rose "just washed by a shower"--delicately fresh--yet eloquent of +some past storm.--Good Heavens! Where was that fellow Marsham? +Philandering with politics?--when there was this flower for the +gathering!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Luncheon was half-way through when a rattling sound of horses' +hoofs outside drew the attention of the table.</p> +<p>"Somebody else coming to lunch," said Mr. Birch. "Sorry for 'em, +Miss Mallory. We haven't left 'em much. You've done us so uncommon +well."</p> +<p>Diana herself looked in some alarm round the table.</p> +<p>"Plenty, my dear lady, plenty!" said the doctor, on her other +hand. "Cold beef, and bread and cheese--what does any mortal want +more? Don't disturb yourself."</p> +<p>Diana wondered who the visitors might be. The butler +entered.</p> +<p>"Sir James Chide, ma'am, and Miss Drake. They have ridden over +from Overton Park, and didn't think it was so far. They told me to +say they didn't wish to disturb you at luncheon, and might they +have a cup of coffee?"</p> +<p>Diana excused herself, and hurried out. Mr. Birch explained at +length to Mrs. Colwood and Fanny that Overton Park belonged to the +Judge, Sir William Felton; that Sir James Chide was often there; +and no doubt Miss Drake had been invited for the ball of the night +before; awfully smart affair!--the coming-out ball of the youngest +daughter.</p> +<p>"Who is Miss Drake?" asked Fanny, thinking enviously of the +ball, to which she had not been invited. Mr. Birch turned to her +with confidential jocosity.</p> +<p>"Lady Lucy Marsham's cousin; and it is generally supposed that +she might by now have been something else but for--"</p> +<p>He nodded toward the chair at the head of the table which Diana +had left vacant.</p> +<p>"Whatever do you mean?" said Fanny. The Marshams to her were, so +far, mere shadows. They represented rich people on the horizon whom +Diana selfishly wished to keep to herself.</p> +<p>"I'm telling tales, I declare I am!" said Mr. Birch. "Haven't +you seen Mr. Oliver Marsham yet, Miss Merton?"</p> +<p>"No. I don't know anything about him."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Mr. Birch, smiling, and peeling an apple with +deliberation.</p> +<p>Fanny flushed.</p> +<p>"Is there anything up--between him and Diana?" she said in his +ear.</p> +<p>Mr. Birch smiled again.</p> +<p>"I saw old Mr. Vavasour the other day--clients of ours, you +understand. A close-fisted old boy, Miss Merton. They imagined +they'd get a good deal out of your cousin. But not a bit of it. +Oliver Marsham does all her business for her. The Vavasours don't +like it, I can tell you."</p> +<p>"I haven't seen either him or Lady Lucy--is that her +name?--since I came."</p> +<p>"Let me see. You came about a fortnight ago--just when +Parliament reassembled. Mr. Marsham is our member. He and Lady Lucy +went up to town the day before Parliament met."</p> +<p>"And what about Miss Drake?"</p> +<p>"Ah!--poor Miss Drake!" Mr. Birch raised a humorous eyebrow. +"Those little things will happen, won't they? It was just at +Christmas, I understand, that your cousin paid her first visit to +Tallyn. A man who was shooting there told me all about it."</p> +<p>"And Miss Drake was there too?"</p> +<p>Mr. Birch nodded.</p> +<p>"And Diana cut her out?" said Fanny, bending toward him +eagerly.</p> +<p>Mr. Birch smiled again. Voices were heard in the hall, but +before the new guests entered, the young man put up a finger to his +lips:</p> +<p>"Don't you quote me, please, Miss Merton. But, I can tell you, +your cousin's very high up in the running just now. And Oliver +Marsham will have twenty thousand a year some day if he has a +penny. Miss Mallory hasn't told you anything--hasn't she? Ha--ha! +Still waters, you know--still waters!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>A few minutes later Sir James Chide was seated between Diana and +Fanny Merton, Mr. Birch having obligingly vacated his seat and +passed to the other side of the table, where his attempts at +conversation were coldly received by Miss Drake. That young lady +dazzled the eyes of Fanny, who sat opposite to her. The closely +fitting habit and black riding-hat gave to her fine figure and +silky wealth of hair the maximum of effect. Fanny perfectly +understood that only money and fashion could attain to Miss Drake's +costly simplicity. She envied her from the bottom of her heart; she +would have given worlds to see the dress in which she had figured +at the ball. Miss Drake, no doubt, went to two or three balls a +week, and could spend anything she liked upon her clothes.</p> +<p>Yet Diana had cut her out--Diana was to carry off the prize! +Twenty thousand a year! Fanny's mind was in a ferment--the mind of +a raw and envious provincial, trained to small ambitions and hungry +desires. Half an hour before, she had been writing a letter home, +in a whirl of delight and self-glorification. The money Diana had +promised would set the whole family on its legs, and Fanny had +stipulated that after the debts were paid she was to have a clear, +cool hundred for her own pocket, and no nonsense about it. It was +she who had done it all, and if it hadn't been for her, they might +all have gone to the workhouse. But now her success was to her as +dross. The thought of Diana's future wealth and glory produced in +her a feeling which was an acute physical distress. So Diana was to +be married!--and to the great <i>parti</i> of the neighborhood! +Fanny already saw her in the bridal white, surrounded by glittering +bridesmaids; and a churchful of titled people, bowing before her as +she passed in state, like poppies under a breeze.</p> +<p>And Diana had never said a word to her about it--to her own +cousin! Nasty, close, mean ways! Fanny was not good enough for +Tallyn--oh no! <i>She</i> was asked to Beechcote when there was +nothing going on--or next to nothing--and one might yawn one's self +to sleep with dulness from morning till night. But as soon as she +was safely packed off, then there would be fine times, no doubt; +the engagement would be announced; the presents would begin to come +in; the bridesmaids would be chosen. But she would get nothing out +of it--not she; she would not be asked to be bridesmaid. She was +not genteel enough for Diana.</p> +<p>Diana--<i>Diana</i>!--the daughter--</p> +<p>Fanny's whole nature gathered itself as though for a spring upon +some prey, at once tempting and exasperating. In one short +fortnight the inbred and fated antagonism between the two natures +had developed itself--on Fanny's side--to the point of hatred. In +the depths of her being she knew that Diana had yearned to love +her, and had not been able. That failure was not her crime, but +Diana's.</p> +<p>Fanny looked haughtily round the table. How many of them knew +what she knew? Suddenly a name recurred to her!--the name announced +by the butler and repeated by Mr. Birch. At the moment she had been +thinking of other things; it had roused no sleeping associations. +But now the obscure under-self sent it echoing through the brain. +Fanny caught her breath. The sudden excitement made her head +swim.--She turned and looked at the white-haired elderly man +sitting between her and Diana.</p> +<p>Sir James Chide!</p> +<p>Memories of the common gossip in her home, of the talk of the +people on the steamer, of pages in that volume of <i>Famous +Trials</i> she had studied on the voyage with such a close and +unsavory curiosity danced through the girl's consciousness. Well, +<i>he</i> knew! No good pretending there. And he came to see +Diana--and still Diana knew nothing! Mrs. Colwood must simply be +telling lies--silly lies! Fanny glanced at her with contempt.</p> +<p>Yet so bewildered was she that when Sir James addressed her, she +stared at him in what seemed a fit of shyness. And when she began +to talk it was at random, for her mind was in a tumult. But Sir +James soon divined her. Vulgarity, conceit, ill-breeding--the great +lawyer detected them in five minutes' conversation. Nor were they +unexpected; for he was well acquainted with Miss Fanny's origins. +Yet the perception of them made the situation still more painfully +interesting to him, and no less mysterious than before. For he saw +no substantial change in it; and he was, in truth, no less +perplexed than Fanny. If certain things had happened in consequence +of Miss Merton's advent, neither he nor any other guest would be +sitting at Diana Mallory's table that day; of that he was morally +certain. Therefore, they had not happened.</p> +<p>He returned with a redoubled tenderness of feeling to his +conversation with Diana. He had come to Overton for the Sunday, at +great professional inconvenience, for nothing in the world but that +he must pay this visit to Beechcote; and he had approached the +house with dread--dread lest he should find a face stricken with +the truth. That dread was momentarily lifted, for in those +beautiful dark eyes of Diana innocence and ignorance were still +written; but none the less he trembled for her; he saw her as he +had seen her at Tallyn, a creature doomed, and consecrate to pain. +Why, in the name of justice and pity, had her father done this +thing? So it is that a man's love, for lack of a little simple +courage and common-sense, turns to cruelty.</p> +<p>Poor, poor child!--At first sight he, like the Roughsedges, had +thought her pale and depressed. Then he had given his message. +"Marsham has arrived!--turned up at Overton a couple of hours +ago--and told us to say he would follow us here after luncheon. He +wired to Lady Felton this morning to ask if she would take him in +for the Sunday. Some big political meeting he had for to-night is +off. Lady Lucy stays in town--and Tallyn is shut up. But Lady +Felton was, of course, delighted to get him. He arrived about noon. +Civility to his hostess kept him to luncheon--then he pursues +us!"</p> +<p>Since then!--no lack of sparkle in the eyes or color in the +cheek! Yet even so, to Sir James's keen sense, there was an +increase, a sharpening, in Diana's personality, of the wistful, +appealing note, which had been always touching, always perceptible, +even through the radiant days of her Tallyn visit.</p> +<p>Ah, well!--like Dr. Roughsedge, only with a far deeper urgency, +he, too, for want of any better plan, invoked the coming lover. In +God's name, let Marsham take the thing into his own hands!--stand +on his own feet!--dissipate a nightmare which ought never to have +arisen--and gather the girl to his heart.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile Fanny's attention--and the surging anger of her +thoughts--were more and more directed upon the girl with the fair +hair opposite. A natural bond of sympathy seemed somehow to have +arisen between her and this Miss Drake--Diana's victim. Alicia +Drake, looking up, was astonished, time after time, to find herself +stared at by the common-looking young woman across the table, who +was, she understood, Miss Mallory's cousin. What dress, and what +manners! One did not often meet that kind of person in society. She +wished Oliver joy of his future relations.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In the old panelled drawing-room the coffee was circulating. Sir +James was making friends with Mrs. Colwood, whose gentle looks and +widow's dress appealed to him. Fanny, Miss Drake, and Mr. Birch +made a group by the fireplace; Mr. Birch was posing as an authority +on the drama; Fanny, her dark eyes fixed upon Alicia, was not +paying much attention; and Alicia, with ill-concealed impatience, +was yawning behind her glove. Hugh Roughsedge was examining the +Donatello photograph.</p> +<p>"Do you like it?" said Diana, standing beside him. She was +conscious of having rather neglected him at lunch, and there was a +dancing something in her own heart which impelled her to kindness +and compunction. Was not the good, inarticulate youth, too, going +out into the wilds, his life in his hands, in the typical English +way? The soft look in her eyes which expressed this mingled feeling +did not mislead the recipient. He had overheard Sir James Glide's +message; he understood her.</p> +<p>Presently, Mrs. Roughsedge, seeing that it was a sunny day and +the garden looked tempting, asked to be allowed to inspect a new +greenhouse that Diana was putting up. The door leading out of the +drawing-room to the moat and the formal garden was thrown open; +cloaks and hats were brought, and the guests streamed out.</p> +<p>"You are not coming?" said Hugh Roughsedge to Diana.</p> +<p>At this question he saw a delicate flush, beyond her control, +creep over her cheek and throat.</p> +<p>"I--I am expecting Mr. Marsham," she said. "Perhaps I ought to +stay."</p> +<p>Sir James Chide looked at his watch.</p> +<p>"He should be here any minute. We will overtake you, Captain +Roughsedge."</p> +<p>Hugh went off beside Mrs. Colwood. Well, well, it was all plain +enough! It was only a fortnight since the Marshams had gone up to +town for the Parliamentary season. And here he was, again upon the +scene. Impossible, evidently, to separate them longer. Let them +only get engaged, and be done with it! He stalked on beside Mrs. +Colwood, tongue-tied and miserable.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Sir James lingered with Diana. "A charming old +place!" he said, looking about him. "But Marsham tells me the +Vavasours have been odious."</p> +<p>"We have got the better of them! Mr. Marsham helped me."</p> +<p>"He has an excellent head, has Oliver. This year he will have +special need of it. It will be a critical time for him."</p> +<p>Diana gave a vague assent. She had, in truth, two recent letters +from Marsham in her pocket at that moment, giving a brilliant and +minute account of the Parliamentary situation. But she hid the +fact, warm and close, like a brooding bird; only drawing on her +companion to talk politics, that she might hear Marsham's name +sometimes, and realize the situation Marsham had described to her, +from another point of view.--And all the time her ear listened for +the sound of hoofs, and for the front door bell.</p> +<p>At last! The peal echoed through the old house. Sir James rose, +and, instinctively, Diana rose too. Was there a smile--humorous and +tender--in the lawyer's blue eyes?</p> +<p>"I'll go and finish my cigarette out-of-doors. Such a tempting +afternoon!"</p> +<p>And out he hurried, before Diana could stop him. She remained +standing, with soft hurrying breath, looking out into the garden. +On a lower terrace she saw Fanny and Alicia Drake walking together, +and could not help a little laugh of amusement that seemed to come +out of a heart of content. Then the door opened, and Marsham was +there.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> +<p>Marsham's first feeling, as he advanced into the room, and, +looking round him, saw that Diana was alone, was one of acute +physical pleasure. The old room with its mingling of color, at once +dim and rich; the sunlit garden through the casement windows; the +scent of the logs burning on the hearth, and of the hyacinths and +narcissus with which the warm air was perfumed; the signs +everywhere of a woman's life and charm; all these first impressions +leaped upon him, aiding the remembered spell which had recalled +him--hot-foot and eager--from London, to this place, on the very +first opportunity.</p> +<p>And if her surroundings were poetic, how much more so was the +girl-figure itself!--the slender form, the dark head, and that +shrinking joy which spoke in her gesture, in the movement she made +toward him across the room. She checked it at once, but not before +a certain wildness in it had let loose upon him a rush of +delight.</p> +<p>"Sir James explained?" he said, as he took her hand.</p> +<p>"Yes. I had no notion you would be here--this week-end."</p> +<p>"Nor had I--till last night. Then an appointment broken +down--and--<i>me voici</i>!"</p> +<p>"You stay over to-morrow?"</p> +<p>"Of course! But it is absurd that the Feltons should be five +miles away!"</p> +<p>She stammered:</p> +<p>"It is a charming ride."</p> +<p>"But too long!--One does not want to lose time."</p> +<p>She was now sitting; and he beside her. Mechanically she had +taken up some embroidery--to shield her eyes. He examined the reds +and blues of the pattern, the white fingers, the bending cheek. +Suddenly, like Sir James Chide or Hugh Roughsedge, he was struck +with a sense of change. The Dian look which matched her name, the +proud gayety and frankness of it, were somehow muffled and +softened. And altogether her aspect was a little frail and weary. +The perception brought with it an appeal to the protective strength +of the man. What were her cares? Trifling, womanish things! He +would make her confess them; and then conjure them away!</p> +<p>"You have your cousin with you?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"She will make you a long visit?"</p> +<p>"Another week or two, I think."</p> +<p>"You are a believer in family traditions?--But of course you +are!"</p> +<p>"Why 'of course'?" Her color had sparkled again, but the laugh +was not spontaneous.</p> +<p>"I see that you are in love with even your furthest kinsmen--you +must be--being an Imperialist! Now I am frankly bored by my +kinsmen--near and far."</p> +<p>"All the same--you ask their help!"</p> +<p>"Oh yes, in war; pure self-interest on both sides."</p> +<p>"You have been preaching this in the House of Commons?"</p> +<p>The teasing had answered. No more veiling of the eyes!</p> +<p>"No--I have made no speeches. Next week, in the Vote of Censure +debate, I shall get my chance."</p> +<p>"To talk Little Englandism? Alack!"</p> +<p>The tone was soft--it ended in a sigh.</p> +<p>"Does it really trouble you?"</p> +<p>She was looking down at her work. Her fingers drew the silk out +and in--a little at random. She shook her head slightly, without +reply.</p> +<p>"I believe it does," he said, gently, still smiling. "Well, when +I make my speech, I shall remember that."</p> +<p>She looked up suddenly. Their eyes met full. On her just parted +lips the words she had meant to say remained unspoken. Then a +murmur of voices from the garden reached them, as though some one +approached. Marsham rose.</p> +<p>"Shall we go into the garden? I ought to speak to Robins. How is +he getting on?"</p> +<p>Robins was the new head gardener, appointed on Marsham's +recommendation.</p> +<p>"Excellently." Diana had also risen. "I will get my hat."</p> +<p>He opened the door for her. Hang those people outside! But for +them she would have been already in his arms.</p> +<p>Left to himself, he walked to and fro, restless and smiling. No +more self-repression--no more politic delay! The great moment of +life--grasped--captured at last! He in his turn understood the +Faust-cry--"Linger awhile!--thou art so fair!" Only let him pierce +to the heart of it--realize it, covetously, to the full! All the +ordinary worldly motives were placated and at rest; due sacrifice +had been done to them; they teased no more. Upgathered and rolled +away, like storm-winds from the sea, they had left a shining and a +festal wave for love to venture on. Let him only yield +himself--feel the full swell of the divine force!</p> +<p>He moved to the window, and looked out.</p> +<p><i>Birch</i>!--What on earth brought that creature to Beechcote. +His astonishment was great, and perhaps in the depths of his mind +there emerged the half-amused perception of a feminine softness and +tolerance which masculine judgment must correct. She did not know +how precious she was; and that it must not be made too easy for the +common world to approach her. All that was picturesque and +important, of course, in the lower classes; labor men, Socialists, +and the like. But not vulgar half-baked fellows, who meant nothing +politically, and must yet be treated like gentlemen. Ah! There were +the Roughsedges--the Captain not gone yet?--Sir James and Mrs. +Colwood--nice little creature, that companion--they would find some +use for her in the future. And on the lower terrace, Alicia Drake, +and--that girl? He laughed, amusing himself with the thought of +Alicia's plight. Alicia, the arrogant, the fastidious! The odd +thing was that she seemed to be absorbed in the conversation that +was going on. He saw her pause at the end of the terrace, look +round her, and deliberately lead the way down a long grass path, +away from the rest of the party. Was the cousin good company, after +all?</p> +<p>Diana returned. A broad black hat, and sables which had been her +father's last gift to her, provided the slight change in +surroundings which pleases the eye and sense of a lover. And as a +man brought up in wealth, and himself potentially rich, he found it +secretly agreeable that costly things became her. There should be +no lack of them in the future.</p> +<p>They stepped out upon the terrace. At sight of them the +Roughsedges approached, while Mr. Fred Birch lagged behind to +inspect the sundial. After a few words' conversation, Marsham +turned resolutely away.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory wants to show me a new gardener."</p> +<p>The old doctor smiled at his wife. Hugh Roughsedge watched the +departing figures. Excellently matched, he must needs admit, in +aspect and in height. Was it about to happen?--or had it already +happened? He braced himself, soldierlike, to the inevitable.</p> +<p>"You know Mr. Birch," said Diana to her companion, as they +descended to the lower terrace, and passed not very far from that +gentleman.</p> +<p>"I just know him," said Marsham, carelessly, and bestowed a nod +in the direction of the solicitor.</p> +<p>"Had he not something to do with your election?" said Diana, +astonished.</p> +<p>"My election?" cried Marsham. Then he laughed. "I suppose he has +been drawing the long bow, as usual. Am I impertinent?--or may I +ask, how you came to know him?"</p> +<p>He looked at her smiling. Diana colored.</p> +<p>"My cousin Fanny made acquaintance with him--in the train."</p> +<p>"I see. Here are our two cousins--coming to meet us. Will you +introduce me?"</p> +<p>For Fanny and Miss Drake were now returning slowly along the +gravel path which led to the kitchen garden. The eyes of both girls +were fixed on the pair advancing toward them. Alicia was no longer +impassive or haughty. Like her companion, she appeared to have been +engaged in an intimate and absorbing conversation. Diana could not +help looking at her in a vague surprise as she paused in front of +them. But she addressed herself to her cousin.</p> +<p>"Fanny, I want to introduce Mr. Marsham to you."</p> +<p>Fanny Merton held out her hand, staring a little oddly at the +gentleman presented to her. Alicia meanwhile was looking at Diana, +while she spoke--with emphasis--to Marsham.</p> +<p>"Could you order my horse, Oliver? I think we ought to be going +back."</p> +<p>"Would you mind asking Sir James?" Marsham pointed to the upper +terrace. "I have something to see to in the garden."</p> +<p>Diana said hurriedly that Mrs. Colwood would send the order to +the stables, and that she herself would not be long. Alicia took no +notice of this remark. She still looked at Oliver.</p> +<p>"You'll come back with us, won't you?"</p> +<p>Marsham flushed. "I have only just arrived," he said, rather +sharply. "Please don't wait for me.--Shall we go on?" he said, +turning to Diana.</p> +<p>They walked on. As Diana paused at the iron gate which closed +the long walk, she looked round her involuntarily, and saw that +Alicia and Fanny were now standing on the lower terrace, gazing +after them. It struck her as strange and rude, and she felt the +slight shock she had felt several times already, both in her +intercourse with Fanny and in her acquaintance with Miss Drake--as +of one unceremoniously jostled or repulsed.</p> +<p>Marsham meanwhile was full of annoyance. That Alicia should +still treat him in that domestic, possessive way--and in Diana's +presence--was really intolerable. It must be stopped.</p> +<p>He paused on the other side of the gate.</p> +<p>"After all, I am not in a mood to see Robins to-day. Look!--the +light is going. Will you show me the path on to the hill? You spoke +to me once of a path you were fond of."</p> +<p>She tried to laugh.</p> +<p>"You take Robins for granted?"</p> +<p>"I am quite indifferent to his virtues--even his vices! This +chance--is too precious. I have so much to say to you."</p> +<p>She led the way in silence. The hand which held up her dress +from the mire trembled a little unseen. But her sense of the +impending crisis had given her more rather than less dignity. She +bore her dark head finely, with that unconscious long-descended +instinct of the woman, waiting to be sued.</p> +<p>They found a path beyond the garden, winding up through a +leafless wood. Marsham talked of indifferent things, and she +answered him with spirit, feeling it all, so far, a queer piece of +acting. Then they emerged on the side of the hill beside a little +basin in the chalk, where a gnarled thorn or two, an overhanging +beech, and a bed of withered heather, made a kind of intimate, +furnished place, which appealed to the passer-by.</p> +<p>"Here is the sunset," said Marsham, looking round him. "Are you +afraid to sit a little?"</p> +<p>He took a light overcoat he had been carrying over his arm and +spread it on the heather. She protested that it was winter, and +coats were for wearing. He took no notice, and she tamely +submitted. He placed her regally, with an old thorn for support and +canopy; and then he stood a moment beside her gazing westward.</p> +<p>They looked over undulations of the chalk, bare stubble fields +and climbing woods, bathed in the pale gold of a February sunset. +The light was pure and wan--the resting earth shone through it +gently yet austerely; only the great woods darkly massed on the +horizon gave an accent of mysterious power to a scene in which +Nature otherwise showed herself the tamed and homely servant of +men. Below were the trees of Beechcote, the gray walls, and the +windows touched with a last festal gleam.</p> +<p>Suddenly Marsham dropped down beside her.</p> +<p>"I see it all with new eyes," he said, passionately. "I have +lived in this country from my childhood; and I never saw it before! +Diana!--"</p> +<p>He raised her hand, which only faintly resisted; he looked into +her eyes. She had grown very pale--enchantingly pale. There was in +her the dim sense of a great fulfilment; the fulfilment of Nature's +promise to her; implicit in her woman's lot from the beginning.</p> +<p>"Diana!--" the low voice searched her heart--"You know--what I +have come to say? I meant to have waited a little longer--I was +afraid!--but I couldn't wait--it was beyond my strength. +Diana!--come to me, darling!--be my wife!"</p> +<p>He kissed the hand he held. His eyes beseeched; and into hers, +widely fixed upon him, had sprung tears--the tears of life's +supremest joy. Her lip trembled.</p> +<p>"I'm not worthy!" she said, in a whisper--"I'm not worthy!"</p> +<p>"Foolish Diana!--Darling, foolish Diana!--Give me my +answer!"</p> +<p>And now he held both hands, and his confident smile dazzled +her.</p> +<p>"I--" Her voice broke. She tried again, still in a whisper. "I +will be everything to you--that a woman can."</p> +<p>At that he put his arm round her, and she let him take that +first kiss, in which she gave him her youth, her life--all that she +had and was. Then she withdrew herself, and he saw her brow +contract, and her mouth.</p> +<p>"I know!"--he said, tenderly--"I know! Dear, I think he would +have been glad. He and I made friends from the first."</p> +<p>She plucked at the heather beside her, trying for composure. "He +would have been so glad of a son--so glad--"</p> +<p>And then, by contrast with her own happiness, the piteous memory +of her father overcame her; and she cried a little, hiding her eyes +against Marsham's shoulder.</p> +<p>"There!" she said, at last, withdrawing herself, and brushing +the tears away. "That's all--that's done with--except in one's +heart. Did--did Lady Lucy know?"</p> +<p>She looked at him timidly. Her aspect had never been more +lovely. Tears did not disfigure her, and as compared with his first +remembrance of her, there was now a touching significance, an +incomparable softness in all she said and did, which gave him a +bewildering sense of treasures to come, of joys for the +gathering.</p> +<p>Suddenly--involuntarily--there flashed through his mind the +recollection of his first love-passage with Alicia--how she had +stung him on, teased, and excited him. He crushed it at once, +angrily.</p> +<p>As to Lady Lucy, he smilingly declared that she had no doubt +guessed something was in the wind.</p> +<p>"I have been 'gey ill to live with' since we got up to town. And +when the stupid meeting I had promised to speak at was put off, my +mother thought I had gone off my head--from my behavior. 'What are +you going to the Feltons' for?--You never care a bit about them.' +So at last I brought her the map and made her look at it--'Felton +Park to Brinton, 3 miles--Haylesford, 4 miles--Beechcote, 2 miles +and 1/2--Beechcote Manor, half a mile--total, ten +miles.'--'Oliver!'--she got so red!--'you are going to propose to +Miss Mallory!' 'Well, mother!--and what have you got to say?' So +then she smiled--and kissed me--and sent you messages--which I'll +give you when there's time. My mother is a rather formidable +person--no one who knew her would ever dream of taking her consent +to anything for granted; but this time"--his laugh was merry--"I +didn't even think of asking it!"</p> +<p>"I shall love her--dearly," murmured Diana.</p> +<p>"Yes, because you won't be afraid of her. Her standards are +hardly made for this wicked world. But you'll hold her--you'll +manage her. If you'd said 'No' to me, she would have felt cheated +of a daughter."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid Mrs. Fotheringham won't like it," said Diana, +ruefully, letting herself be gathered again into his arms.</p> +<p>"My sister? I don't know what to say about Isabel, +dearest--unless I parody an old saying. She and I have never +agreed--except in opinion. We have been on the same side--and in +hot opposition--since our childhood. No--I dare say she will be +thorny! Why did you fight me so well, little rebel?"</p> +<p>He looked down into her dark eyes, revelling in their sweetness, +and in the bliss of her surrendered beauty. If this was not his +first proposal, it was his first true passion--of that he was +certain.</p> +<p>She released herself--rosy--and still thinking of Mrs. +Fotheringham. "Oliver!"--she laid her hand shyly on his--"neither +she nor you will want me to stifle what I think--to deny what I do +really believe? I dare say a woman's politics aren't worth +much"--she laughed and sighed.</p> +<p>"I say!--don't take that line with Isabel!"</p> +<p>"Well, mine probably aren't worth much--but they are mine--and +papa taught them me--and I can't give them up."</p> +<p>"What'll you do, darling?--canvass against me?" He kissed her +hand again.</p> +<p>"No--but I <i>can't</i> agree with you!"</p> +<p>"Of course you can't. Which of us, <i>I</i> wonder, will shake +the other? How do you know that I'm not in a blue fright for my +principles?"</p> +<p>"You'll explain to me?--you'll not despise me?" she said, +softly, bending toward him; "I'll always, always try and +understand."</p> +<p>Who could resist an attitude so feminine, yet so loyal, at once +so old and new? Marsham felt himself already attacked by the poison +of Toryism, and Diana, with a happy start, envisaged horizons that +her father never knew, and questions where she had everything to +learn.</p> +<p>Hand in hand, trembling still under the thrill of the moment +which had fused their lives, they fell into happy discursive talk: +of the Tallyn visit--of her thoughts and his--of what Lady Lucy and +Mr. Ferrier had said, or would say. In the midst of it the fall of +temperature, which came with the sunset, touched them, and Marsham +sprang up with the peremptoriness of a new relationship, insisting +that he must take her home out of the chilly dusk. As they stood +lingering in the hollow, unwilling to leave the gnarled thorns, the +heather-carpet, and the glow of western light--symbols to them +henceforth that they too, in their turn, amid the endless +generations, had drunk the mystic cup, and shared the sacred +feast--Diana perceived some movement far below, on the open space +in front of Beechcote. A little peering through the twilight showed +them two horses with their riders leaving the Beechcote door.</p> +<p>"Oh! your cousin--and Sir James!" cried Diana, in distress, "and +I haven't said good-bye--"</p> +<p>"You will see them soon again. And I shall carry them the news +to-night."</p> +<p>"Will you? Shall I allow it?"</p> +<p>Marsham laughed; he caught her hand again, slipped it +possessively within his left arm, and held it there as they went +slowly down the path. Diana could not think with any zest of Alicia +and her reception of the news. A succession of trifles had shown +her quite clearly that Alicia was not her friend; why, she did not +know. She remembered many small advances on her own part.</p> +<p>But at the mention of Sir James Chide, her face lit up.</p> +<p>"He has been so kind to me!" she said, looking up into Marsham's +face--"so very kind!"</p> +<p>Her eyes showed a touch of passion; the passion that some +natures can throw into gratitude; whether for little or much. +Marsham smiled.</p> +<p>"He fell in love with you! Yes--he is a dear old boy. One can +well imagine that he has had a romance!"</p> +<p>"Has he?"</p> +<p>"It is always said that he was in love with a woman whom he +defended on a charge of murder."</p> +<p>Diana exclaimed.</p> +<p>"He had met her when they were both very young, and lost his +heart to her. Then she married and he lost sight of her. He +accepted a brief in this murder case, ten years later, not knowing +her identity, and they met for the first time when he went to see +her with her solicitor in prison."</p> +<p>Diana breathlessly asked for the rest of the story.</p> +<p>"He defended her magnificently. It was a shocking case. The +sentence was commuted, but she died almost immediately. They say +Sir James has never got over it."</p> +<p>Diana pondered; her eyes dim.</p> +<p>"How one would like to do something for him!--to give him +pleasure!"</p> +<p>Marsham caressed her hand.</p> +<p>"So you shall, darling. He shall be one of our best friends. But +he mustn't make Ferrier jealous."</p> +<p>Diana smiled happily. She looked forward to all the new ties of +kindred or friendship that Marsham was to bring her--modestly +indeed, yet in the temper of one who feels herself spiritually rich +and capable of giving.</p> +<p>"I shall love all your friends," she said, with a bright look. +"I'm glad you have so many!"</p> +<p>"Does that mean that you've felt rather lonely sometimes? Poor +darling!" he said, tenderly, "it must have been solitary often at +Portofino."</p> +<p>"Oh no--I had papa." Then her truthfulness overcame her. "I +don't mean to say I didn't often want friends of my own age--girl +friends especially."</p> +<p>"You can't have them now!"--he said, passionately, as they +paused at a wicket-gate, under a yew-tree. "I want you all--all--to +myself." And in the shadow of the yew he put his arms round her +again, and their hearts beat together.</p> +<p>But our nature moves within its own inexorable limits. In Diana, +Marsham's touch, Marsham's embrace awakened that strange mingled +happiness, that happiness reared and based on tragedy, which the +pure and sensitive feel in the crowning moments of life. Love is +tortured by its own intensity; and the thought of death strikes +through the experience which means the life of the race. As her +lips felt Marsham's kiss, she knew, as generations of women have +known before her, that life could give her no more; and she also +knew that it was transiency and parting that made it so intolerably +sweet.</p> +<p>"Till death us do part," she said to herself. And in the +intensity of her submission to the common lot she saw down the +years the end of what had now begun--herself lying quiet and +blessed, in the last sleep, her dead hand in Marsham's.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Why must we go home?" he said, discontentedly, as he released +her. "One turn more!--up the avenue! There is light enough +yet!"</p> +<p>She yielded weakly; pacifying her social conscience by the +half-penitent remark that Mrs. Colwood would have said good-bye to +her guests, and that--she--she supposed they would soon have to +know.</p> +<p>"Well, as I want you to marry me in six weeks," said Marsham, +joyously, "I suppose they will."</p> +<p>"Six weeks!" She gasped. "Oh, how unreasonable!"</p> +<p>"Dearest!--A fortnight would do for frocks. And whom have we to +consult but ourselves? I know you have no near relations. As for +cousins, it doesn't take long to write them a few notes, and ask +them to the wedding."</p> +<p>Diana sighed.</p> +<p>"My only cousins are the Mertons. They are all in Barbadoes but +Fanny."</p> +<p>Her tone changed a little. In her thoughts, she added, +hurriedly: "I sha'n't have any bridesmaids!"</p> +<p>Marsham, discreetly, made no reply. Personally, he hoped that +Miss Merton's engagements might take her safely back to Barbadoes +before the wedding-day. But if not, he and his would no doubt know +how to deal with her--civilly and firmly--as people must learn to +deal with their distasteful relations.</p> +<p>Meanwhile on Diana's mind there had descended a sudden cloud of +thought, dimming the ecstasy of her joy. The February day was dying +in a yellowish dusk, full of beauty. They were walking along a +narrow avenue of tall limes which skirted the Beechcote lands, and +took them past the house. Above their heads the trees met in a +brown-and-purple tracery of boughs, and on their right, through the +branches, they saw a pale full moon, throning it in a silver sky. +The mild air, the movements of the birds, the scents from the earth +and bushes spoke of spring; and suddenly Diana perceived the gate +leading to the wood where that very morning the subtle message of +the changing year had come upon her, rending and probing. A longing +to tell Marsham all her vague troubles rose in her, held back by a +natural shrinking. But the longing prevailed, quickened by the +loyal sense that she must quickly tell him all she knew about +herself and her history, since there was nobody else to tell +him.</p> +<p>"Oliver!"--she began, hurriedly--"I ought to tell you--I don't +think you know. My name wasn't Mallory to begin with--my father +took that name."</p> +<p>Marsham gave a little start.</p> +<p>"Dear--how surprising!--and how interesting! Tell me all you +can--from the year One."</p> +<p>He smiled upon her, with a sparkling look that asked for all her +history. But secretly he had been conscious of a shock. Lately he +had made a few inquiries about the Welsh Mallorys. And the answers +had been agreeable; though the old central stock of the name, to +which he presumed Diana belonged, was said to be extinct. No +doubt--so he had reflected--it had come to an end in her +father.</p> +<p>"Mallory was the name of my father's mother. He took it for +various reasons--I never quite understood--and I know a good deal +of property came to him. But his original name--my name--was +Sparling."</p> +<p>"Sparling!" A pause. "And have you any Sparling relations."</p> +<p>"No. They all died out--I think--but I know so little!--when I +was small. However, I have a box of Sparling papers which I have +never examined. Perhaps--some day--we might look at them +together."</p> +<p>Her voice shook a little.</p> +<p>"You have never looked at them?"</p> +<p>"Never."</p> +<p>"But why, dearest?"</p> +<p>"It always seemed to make papa so unhappy--anything to do with +his old name. Oliver!"--she turned upon him suddenly, and for the +first time she clung to him, hiding her face against his +shoulder--"Oliver!--I don't know what made him unhappy--I don't +know why he changed his name. Sometimes I think--there may have +been some terrible thing between him--and my mother."</p> +<p>He put his arm round her, close and tenderly.</p> +<p>"What makes you think that?" Then he whispered to her--"Tell +your lover--your husband--tell him everything."</p> +<p>She shrank in delicious tremor from the great word, and it was a +few moments before she could collect her thoughts. Then she +said--still resting against him in the dark--and in a low rapid +voice, as though she followed the visions of an inner sense:</p> +<p>"She died when I was only four. I just remember--it is almost my +first recollection of anything--seeing her carried up-stairs--" She +broke off. "And oh! it's so strange!--"</p> +<p>"Strange? She was ill?"</p> +<p>"Yes, but--what I seem to remember never explains itself--and I +did not dare to ask papa. She hadn't been with us--for a long time. +Papa and I had been alone. Then one day I saw them carrying her +up-stairs--my father and two nurses--I ran out before my nurse +could catch me--and saw her--she was in her hat and cloak. I didn't +know her, and when she called me, I ran away. Then afterward they +took me in to see her in bed--two or three times--and I remember +once"--Diana began to sob herself--"seeing her cry. She lay +sobbing--and my father beside her; he held her hand--and I saw him +hide his eyes upon it. They never noticed me; I don't know that +they saw me. Then they told me she was dead--I saw her lying on the +bed--and my nurse gave me some flowers to put beside her--some +violets. They were the only flowers. I can see her still, lying +there--with her hands closed over them."</p> +<p>She released herself from Marsham, and, with her hand in his, +she drew him slowly along the path, while she went on speaking, +with an effort indeed, yet with a marvellous sense of +deliverance--after the silence of years. She described the entire +seclusion of their life at Portofino.</p> +<p>"Papa never spoke to me of mamma, and I never remember a picture +of her. After his death I saw a closed locket on his breast for the +first time. I would not have opened it for the world--I just kissed +it--" Her voice broke again; but after a moment she quietly +resumed. "He changed his name--I think--when I was about nine years +old. I remember that somehow it seemed to give him comfort--he was +more cheerful with me afterward--"</p> +<p>"And you have no idea what led him to go abroad?"</p> +<p>She shook her head. Marsham's changed and rapid tone had +betrayed some agitation in the mind behind; but Diana did not +notice it. In her story she had come to what, in truth, had been +the determining and formative influence on her own life--her +father's melancholy, and the mystery in which it had been +enwrapped; and even the perceptions of love were for the moment +blinded as the old tyrannous grief overshadowed her.</p> +<p>"His life"--she said, slowly--"seemed for years--one long +struggle to bear--what was really--unbearable. Then when I was +about nineteen there was a change. He no longer shunned people +quite in the same way, and he took me to Egypt and India. We came +across old friends of his whom I, of course, had never seen before; +and I used to wonder at the way in which they treated him--with a +kind of reverence--as though they would not have touched him +roughly for the world. Then directly after we got home to the +Riviera his illness began--"</p> +<p>She dwelt on the long days of dumbness, and her constant sense +that he wished--in vain--to communicate something to her.</p> +<p>"He wanted something--and I could not give it him--could not +even tell what it was. It was misery! One day he managed to write: +'If you are in trouble, go to Riley & Bonner--ask them.' They +were his solicitors, whom he had depended on from his boyhood. But +since his death I have never wanted anything from them but a little +help in business. They have been very good; but--I could not go and +question them. If there was anything to know--papa had not been +able to tell me--I did not want anybody else--to--"</p> +<p>Her voice dropped. Only half an hour since the flowering of +life! What a change in both! She was pacing along slowly, her head +thrown back; the oval of her face white among her furs, under the +ghostly touch of the moonlight; a suggestion of something +austere--finely remote--in her attitude and movement. His eyes were +on the ground, his shoulders bent; she could not see his face.</p> +<p>"We must try and unravel it--together," he said, at last, with +an effort. "Can you tell me your mother's name?"</p> +<p>"It was an old Staffordshire family. But she and papa met in +America, and they married there. Her father died not long +afterward, I think. And I have never heard of any relations but the +one sister, Mrs. Merton. Her name was Wentworth. Oh!" It was an +involuntary cry of physical pain.</p> +<p>"Diana!--Did I hurt your hand? my darling!"</p> +<p>The sudden tightness of his grip had crushed her fingers. She +smiled at him, as he kissed them, in hasty remorse.</p> +<p>"And her Christian name?" he asked, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"Juliet."</p> +<p>There was a pause. They had turned back, and were walking toward +the house. The air had grown much colder; frosty stars were +twinkling, and a chilly wind was blowing light clouds across the +moon. The two figures moved slowly in and out of the bands of light +and shadow which crossed the avenue.</p> +<p>Diana stopped suddenly.</p> +<p>"If there were something terrible to know!"--she said, +trembling--"something which would make you ashamed of me!--"</p> +<p>Her tall slenderness bent toward him--she held out her hands +piteously. Marsham's manhood asserted itself. He encircled her +again with his strong arm, and she hid her face against him. The +contact of her soft body, her fresh cheek, intoxicated him afresh. +In the strength of his desire for her, it was as though he were +fighting off black vultures of the night, forces of horror that +threatened them both. He would not believe what yet he already knew +to be true. The thought of his mother clamored at the door of his +mind, and he would not open to it. In a reckless defiance of what +had overtaken him, he poured out tender and passionate speech which +gradually stilled the girl's tumult of memory and foreboding, and +brought back the heaven of their first moment on the hill-side. Her +own reserve broke down, and from her murmured words, her sweetness, +her infinite gratitude, Marsham might divine still more fully the +richness of that harvest which such a nature promised to a +lover.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"I won't tell any one--but Muriel--till you have seen Lady +Lucy," said Diana, as they approached the house, and found +Marsham's horse waiting at the door.</p> +<p>He acquiesced, and it was arranged that he should go up to town +the following day, Sunday--see Lady Lucy--and return on the +Monday.</p> +<p>Then he rode away, waving his hand through the darkness.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marsham's horse carried him swiftly through country roads, where +the moon made magic, and peace reigned. But the mind of the rider +groped in confusion and despair, seeing no way out.</p> +<p>Only one definite purpose gathered strength--to throw himself on +the counsel of Sir James Chide. Chide had known--from the +beginning!</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br> +<p>Marsham reached Felton Hall about six o'clock. The house, a +large Georgian erection, belonging to pleasant easy-going people +with many friends, was full of guests, and the thought of the large +party which he must face at dinner and in the evening had been an +additional weight in his burden during the long ride home.</p> +<p>No means of escaping it, or the gossip with regard to himself, +which must, he knew, be raging among the guests!</p> +<p>That gossip had not troubled him when he had set forth in the +early afternoon. Quite the contrary. It had amused him as he rode +to Beechcote, full of confident hope, to think of announcing his +engagement. What reason would there be for delay or concealment? He +looked forward to the congratulations of old friends; the more the +better.</p> +<p>The antithesis between "then" and "now" struck him sharply, as +he dismounted. But for that last quarter of an hour with Diana, how +jubilantly would he have entered the house! Ten minutes with Lady +Felton--a dear, chattering woman!--and all would have been known. +He pictured instinctively the joyous flutter in the house--the +merry dinner--perhaps the toasts.</p> +<p>As it was, he slipped quietly into the house, hoping that his +return might pass unnoticed. He was thankful to find no one +about--the hall and drawing-room deserted. The women had gone up to +rest before dinner; the men had not long before come back muddy +from hunting, and were changing clothes.</p> +<p>Where was Sir James Chide?</p> +<p>He looked into the smoking-room. A solitary figure was sitting +by the fire. Sir James had a new novel beside him; but he was not +reading, and his cigar lay half smoked on the ash-tray beside +him.</p> +<p>He was gazing into the blaze, his head on his hand, and his +quick start and turn as the door of the smoking-room opened showed +him to be not merely thoughtful but expectant.</p> +<p>He sprang up.</p> +<p>"Is that you, Oliver?"</p> +<p>He came forward eagerly. He had known Marsham from a child, had +watched his career, and formed a very shrewd opinion of his +character. But how this supreme moment would turn--if, indeed, the +supreme moment had arrived--Sir James had no idea.</p> +<p>Marsham closed the door behind him, and in the lamplight the two +men looked at each other. Marsham's brow was furrowed, his cheeks +pale. His eyes, restless and bright, interrogated his old friend. +At the first glance Sir James understood. He thrust his hands into +his pockets.</p> +<p>"You know?" he said, under his breath.</p> +<p>Marsham nodded.</p> +<p>"And you--have known it all along?"</p> +<p>"From the first moment, almost, that I set eyes on that poor +child. Does <i>she</i> know? Have you broken it to her?"</p> +<p>The questions hurried on each other's heels. Marsham shook his +head, and Sir James, turning away, made a sound that was almost a +groan.</p> +<p>"You have proposed to her?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And she has accepted you?"</p> +<p>"Yes." Marsham walked to the mantel-piece, and hung over the +fire.</p> +<p>Sir James watched him for a moment, twisting his mouth. Then he +walked up to his companion and laid a hand on his arm.</p> +<p>"Stick it out, Oliver!" he said, breathing quick. "Stick it out! +You'll have to fight--but she's worth it."</p> +<p>Marsham's hand groped for his. Sir James pressed it, and walked +away again, his eyes on the carpet. When he came back, he said, +shortly:</p> +<p>"You know your mother will resist it to the last?"</p> +<p>By this, Marsham had collected his forces, and as he turned to +the lamplight, Sir James saw a countenance that reassured him.</p> +<p>"I have no hope of persuading her. It will have to be +faced."</p> +<p>"No, I fear there is no hope. She sees all such things in a +false light. Forgive me--we must both speak plainly. She will +shudder at the bare idea of Juliet Sparling's daughter as your +wife; she will think it means a serious injury to your career--in +reality it does nothing of the sort--and she will regard it as her +duty to assert herself."</p> +<p>"You and Ferrier must do all you can for me," said Marsham, +slowly.</p> +<p>"We shall do everything we can, but I do not flatter myself it +will be of the smallest use. And supposing we make no +impression--what then?"</p> +<p>Marsham paused a moment; then looked up.</p> +<p>"You know the terms of my father's will? I am absolutely +dependent on my mother. The allowance she makes me at present is +quite inadequate for a man in Parliament, and she could stop it +to-morrow."</p> +<p>"You might have to give up Parliament?"</p> +<p>"I should very likely have to give up Parliament."</p> +<p>Sir James ruminated, and took up his half-smoked cigar for +counsel.</p> +<p>"I can't imagine, Oliver, that your mother would push her +opposition to quite that point. But, in any case, you have +forgotten Miss Mallory's own fortune."</p> +<p>"It has never entered into my thoughts!" cried Marsham, with an +emphasis which Sir James knew to be honest. "But, in any case, I +cannot live upon my wife. If I could not find something to do, I +should certainly give up politics."</p> +<p>His tone had become a little dry and bitter, his aspect +gray.</p> +<p>Sir James surveyed him a moment--pondering.</p> +<p>"You will find plenty of ways out, Oliver--plenty! The sympathy +of all the world will be with you. You have won a beautiful and +noble creature. She has been brought up under a more than Greek +fate. You will rescue her from it. You will show her how to face +it--and how to conquer it."</p> +<p>A tremor swept across Marsham's handsome mouth. But the +perplexity and depression in the face remained.</p> +<p>Sir James had a slight consciousness of rebuff. But it +disappeared in his own emotion. He resumed:</p> +<p>"She ought to be told the story--perhaps with some omissions--at +once. Her mother"--he spoke with a slow precision, forcing out the +words--"was not a bad woman. If you like, I will break it to Miss +Mallory. I am probably more intimately acquainted with the story +than any one else now living."</p> +<p>Something in the tone, in the solemnity of the blue eyes, in the +carriage of the gray head, touched Marsham to the quick. He laid a +hand on his old friend's shoulder--affectionately--in mute +thanks.</p> +<p>"Diana mentioned her father's solicitors--"</p> +<p>"I know"--interrupted Sir James--"Riley & Bonner--excellent +fellows--both of them still living. They probably have all the +records. And I shouldn't wonder if they have a letter--from +Sparling. He <i>must</i> have made provision--for the occasion that +has now arisen."</p> +<p>"A letter?--for Diana?"</p> +<p>Sir James nodded. "His behavior to her was a piece of moral +cowardice, I suppose. I saw a good deal of him during the trial, of +course, though it is years now since I lost all trace of him. He +was a sensitive, shy fellow, wrapped up in his archæology, +and very ignorant of the world--when it all happened. It tore him +up by the roots. His life withered in a day."</p> +<p>Marsham flushed.</p> +<p>"He had no right to bring her up in this complete ignorance! He +could not have done anything more cruel!--more fatal! No one knows +what the effect may be upon her."</p> +<p>And with a sudden rush of passion through the blood, he seemed +to hold her once more in his arms, he felt the warmth of her cheek +on his; all her fresh and fragrant youth was present to him, the +love in her voice, and in her proud eyes. He turned away, threw +himself into a chair, and buried his face in his hands.</p> +<p>Sir James looked down upon him. Instead of sympathy, there was a +positive lightening in the elder man's face--a gleam of +satisfaction.</p> +<p>"Cheer up, old fellow!" he said, in a low voice. "You'll bring +her through. You stand by her, and you'll reap your reward. By Gad, +there are many men who would envy you the chance!"</p> +<p>Marsham made no reply. Was it his silence that evoked in the +mind of Sir James the figure which already held the mind of his +companion?--the figure of Lady Lucy? He paced up and down, with the +image before him--the spare form, resolutely erect, the delicate +resolution of the face, the prim perfection of the dress, judged by +the Quakerish standard of its owner. Lady Lucy almost always wore +gloves--white or gray. In Sir James's mind the remembrance of them +took a symbolic importance. What use in expecting the wearer of +them to handle the blood and mire of Juliet Sparling's story with +breadth and pity?</p> +<p>"Look here!" he said, coming to a sudden stop. "Let us decide at +once on what is to be done. You said nothing to Miss Mallory?"</p> +<p>"Nothing. But she is already in some trouble and misgiving about +the past. She is in the mood to inquire; she has been, I think, for +some time. And, naturally, she wishes to hide nothing from me."</p> +<p>"She will write to Riley & Bonner," said Sir James, quietly. +"She will probably write to-night. They may take steps to acquaint +her with her history--or they may not. It depends. Meanwhile, who +else is likely to know anything about the engagement?"</p> +<p>"Diana was to tell Mrs. Colwood--her companion; no one +else."</p> +<p>"Nice little woman!--all right there! But"--Sir James gave a +slight start--"what about the cousin?"</p> +<p>"Miss Merton? Oh no! There is clearly no sympathy between her +and Diana. How could there be?"</p> +<p>"Yes--but my dear fellow!--that girl knows--must +know--everything there is to know! And she dislikes Diana; she is +jealous of her; that I saw quite plainly this afternoon. And, +moreover, she is probably quite well informed about you and your +intentions. She gossiped half through lunch with that ill-bred +fellow Birch. I heard your name once or twice. Oh!--and +by-the-way!"--Sir James turned sharply on his heel--"what was she +confabulating about with Miss Drake all that time in the garden? +Did they know each other before?"</p> +<p>Marsham replied in the negative. But he, too, was disagreeably +arrested by the recollection of the two girls walking together, and +of the intimacy and animation of their talk. And he could recall +what Sir James had not seen--the strangeness of Alicia's manner, +and the peremptoriness with which she had endeavored to carry him +home with her. Had she--after hearing the story--tried to interrupt +or postpone the crucial scene with Diana? That seemed to him the +probable explanation, and the idea roused in him a hot and impotent +anger. What business was it of hers?</p> +<p>"H'm!" said Sir James. "You may be sure that Miss Drake is now +in the secret. She was very discreet on the way home. But she will +take sides; and not, I think, with us. She seems to have a good +deal of influence with your mother."</p> +<p>Marsham reluctantly admitted it.</p> +<p>"My sister, too, will be hostile. Don't let's forget that."</p> +<p>Sir James shrugged his shoulders, with the smile of one who is +determined to keep his spirits up.</p> +<p>"Well, my dear Marsham, you have your battle cut out for you! +Don't delay it. Where is Lady Lucy?"</p> +<p>"In town."</p> +<p>"Can't you devise some excuse that will take you back to her +early to-morrow morning?"</p> +<p>Marsham thought over it. Easy enough, if only the engagement +were announced! But both agreed that silence was imperative. +Whatever chance there might be with Lady Lucy would be entirely +destroyed were the matter made public before her son had consulted +her.</p> +<p>"Everybody here is on the tiptoe of expectation," said Sir +James. "But that you know; you must face it somehow. Invent a +letter from Ferrier--some party <i>contretemps</i>--anything!--I'll +help you through. And if you see your mother in the morning, I will +turn up in the afternoon."</p> +<p>The two men paused. They were standing together--in conference; +but each was conscious of a background of hurrying thoughts that +had so far been hardly expressed at all.</p> +<p>Marsham suddenly broke out:</p> +<p>"Sir James!--I know you thought there were excuses--almost +justification--for what that poor creature did. I was a boy of +fifteen at the time you made your famous speech, and I only know it +by report. You spoke, of course, as an advocate--but I have heard +it said--that you expressed your own personal belief. Wherever the +case is discussed, there are still--as you know--two opinions--one +more merciful than the other. If the line you took was not merely +professional; if you personally believed your own case; can you +give me some of the arguments--you were probably unable to state +them all in court--that convinced you? Let me have something +wherewith to meet my mother. She won't look at this altogether from +the worldly point of view. She will have a standard of her own. +Merely to belittle the thing, as long past and forgotten, won't +help me. But if I <i>could</i> awaken her pity!--if you could give +me the wherewithal--"</p> +<p>Sir James turned away. He walked to the window and stood there a +minute, his face invisible. When he returned, his pallor betrayed +what his steady and dignified composure would otherwise have +concealed.</p> +<p>"I can tell you what Mrs. Sparling told me--in prison--with the +accents of a dying woman--what I believed then--what I believe +now.--Moreover, I have some comparatively recent confirmation of +this belief.--But this is too public!"--he looked round the +library--"we might be disturbed. Come to my room to-night. I shall +go up early, on the plea of letters. I always carry with +me--certain documents. For her child's sake, I will show them to +you."</p> +<p>At the last words the voice of the speaker, rich in every tender +and tragic note, no less than in those of irony or invective, +wavered for the first time. He stooped abruptly, took up the book +he had been reading, and left the room.</p> +<p>Marsham, too, went up-stairs. As he passed along the main +corridor to his room, lost in perplexity and foreboding, he heard +the sound of a woman's dress, and, looking up, saw Alicia Drake +coming toward him.</p> +<p>She started at sight of him, and under the bright electric light +of the passage he saw her redden.</p> +<p>"Well, Oliver!--you stayed a good while."</p> +<p>"Not so very long. I have been home nearly an hour. I hope the +horses went well!"</p> +<p>"Excellently. Do you know where Sir James is?"</p> +<p>It seemed to him the question was significantly asked. He gave +it a cold answer.</p> +<p>"Not at this moment. He was in the smoking-room a little while +ago."</p> +<p>He passed her abruptly. Alicia Drake pursued her way to the +hall. She was carrying some letters to the post-box near the front +door. When she arrived there she dropped two of them in at once, +and held the other a moment in her hand, looking at it. It was +addressed to "Mrs. Fotheringham, Manningham House, Leeds."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, Diana herself was wrestling with her own fate.</p> +<p>When Marsham rode away from her, and she had watched his tall +figure disappear into the dusk, she turned back toward the house, +and saw it and the world round it with new eyes. The moon shone on +the old front, mellowing it to a brownish ivory; the shadows of the +trees lay clear on the whitened grass; and in the luminous air +colors of sunrise and of moonrise blended, tints of pearl, of gold, +and purple. A consecrating beauty lay on all visible things, and +spoke to the girl's tender and passionate heart. In the shadow of +the trees she stood a moment, her hands clasped on her breast, +recalling Marsham's words of love and comfort, resting on him, +reaching out through him to the Power behind the world, which spoke +surely through this loveliness of the night, this joy in the +soul!</p> +<p>And yet, her mood, her outlook--like Marsham's--was no longer +what it had been on the hill-side. No ugly light of revelation had +broken upon her, as upon him. But the conversation in the lime-walk +had sobered the first young exaltation of love; it had somehow +divided them from the happy lovers of every day; it had also +divided them--she hardly knew how or why--from that moment on the +hill when Oliver had spoken of immediate announcement and immediate +marriage. Nothing was to be said--except to Muriel--till Lady Lucy +knew. She was glad. It made her bliss, in this intervening moment, +more fully her own. She thought with yearning of Oliver's interview +with his mother. A filial, though a trembling love sprang up in +her. And the sense of having come to shelter and to haven seemed to +give her strength for what she had never yet dared to face. The +past was now to be probed, interrogated. She was firmly resolved to +write to Riley & Bonner, to examine any papers there might be; +not because she was afraid that anything might come between her and +Oliver; rather because now, with his love to support her, she could +bear whatever there might be to bear.</p> +<p>She stepped into the house. Some one was strumming in the +drawing-room--with intervals between the strummings--as though the +player stopped to listen for something or some one. Diana shrank +into herself. She ran up-stairs noiselessly to her sitting-room, +and opened the door as quietly as possible.</p> +<p>"Muriel!"</p> +<p>The voice was almost a whisper. Mrs. Colwood did not hear it. +She was bending over the fire, with her back to the door, and a +reading-lamp beside her. To her amazement, Diana heard a sob, a +sound of stifled grief, which struck a sudden chill through her own +excitement. She paused a moment, and repeated her friend's name. +Mrs. Colwood started. She hastily rose, turning her face from +Diana.</p> +<p>"Is that you? I thought you were still out."</p> +<p>Diana crossed the floor, and put her arm round the little gentle +woman, whose breath was still shaken by the quiet sobs she was +trying desperately to repress.</p> +<p>"Muriel, dear!--what is it?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood found her voice, and her composure.</p> +<p>"Nothing! I was foolish--it doesn't matter."</p> +<p>Diana was sure she understood. She was suddenly ashamed to bring +her own happiness into this desolate and widowed presence, and the +kisses with which, mutely, she tried to comfort her friend, were +almost a plea to be forgiven.</p> +<p>But Muriel drew herself away. She looked searchingly, with +recovered self-command, into Diana's face.</p> +<p>"Has Mr. Marsham gone?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Diana, looking at her.</p> +<p>Then the smile within broke out, flooding eyes and lips. Under +the influence of it, Mrs. Colwood's small tear-stained face passed +through a quick instinctive change. She, too, smiled as though she +could not help it; then she bent forward and kissed Diana.</p> +<p>"Is it all right?"</p> +<p>The peculiar eagerness in the tone struck Diana. She returned +the kiss, a little wistfully.</p> +<p>"Were you so anxious about me? Wasn't it--rather plain?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood laughed.</p> +<p>"Sit down there, and tell me all about it."</p> +<p>She pushed Diana into a chair and sat down at her feet. Diana, +with some difficulty, her hand over her eyes, told all that could +be told of a moment the heart of which no true lover betrays. +Muriel Colwood listened with her face against the girl's dress, +sometimes pressing her lips to the hand beside her.</p> +<p>"Is he going to see Lady Lucy to-morrow?" she asked, when Diana +paused.</p> +<p>"Yes. He goes up by the first train."</p> +<p>Both were silent awhile. Diana, in the midst of all the natural +flutter of blood and pulse, was conscious of a strong yearning to +tell her friend more--to say: "And he has brought me comfort and +courage--as well as love! I shall dare now to look into the +past--to take up my father's burden. If it hurts, Oliver will help +me."</p> +<p>But she had been brought up in a school of reticence, and her +loyalty to her father and mother sealed her lips. That anxiety, +that burden, nobody must share with her but Oliver--and perhaps his +mother; his mother, so soon to be hers.</p> +<p>Muriel Colwood, watching her face, could hardly restrain +herself. But the moment for which her whole being was waiting in a +tension scarcely to be borne had not yet come. She chastened and +rebuked her own dread.</p> +<p>They talked a little of the future. Diana, in a blessed fatigue, +threw herself back in her chair, and chattered softly, listening +now and then for the sounds of the piano in the room below, and +evidently relieved whenever, after a silence, fresh fragments from +some comic opera of the day, much belied in the playing, penetrated +to the upper floor. Meanwhile, neither of them spoke of Fanny +Merton. Diana, with a laugh, repeated Marsham's proposal for a six +weeks' engagement. That was absurd! But, after all, it could not be +very long. She hoped Oliver would be content to keep Beechcote. +They could, of course, always spend a good deal of time with Lady +Lucy.</p> +<p>And in mentioning that name she showed not the smallest +misgiving, not a trace of uneasiness, while every time it was +uttered it pricked the shrinking sense of her companion. Mrs. +Colwood had not watched and listened during her Tallyn visit for +nothing.</p> +<p>At last a clock struck down-stairs, and a door opened. Diana +sprang up.</p> +<p>"Time to dress! And I've left Fanny alone all this while!"</p> +<p>She hurried toward the door; then turned back.</p> +<p>"Please!--I'm not going to tell Fanny just yet. Neither Fanny +nor any one--till Lady Lucy knows. What happened after we went +away? Was Fanny amused?"</p> +<p>"Very much, I should say."</p> +<p>"She made friends with Miss Drake?"</p> +<p>"They were inseparable, till Miss Drake departed."</p> +<p>Diana laughed.</p> +<p>"How odd! That I should never have prophesied. And Mr. Birch? I +needn't have him to lunch again, need I?"</p> +<p>"Miss Merton invited him to tea--on Saturday."</p> +<p>Diana reddened.</p> +<p>"Must I--!" she said, impetuously; then stopped herself, and +opened the door.</p> +<p>Outside, Fanny Merton was just mounting the stairs, a candle in +her hand. She stopped in astonishment at the sight of Diana.</p> +<p>"Diana! where have you been all this time?"</p> +<p>"Only talking to Muriel. We heard you playing; so we thought you +weren't dull," said Diana, rather penitently.</p> +<p>"I was only playing till you came in," was the sharp reply. +"When did Mr. Marsham go?"</p> +<p>Diana by this time was crossing the landing to the door of her +room, with Fanny behind her.</p> +<p>"Oh, quite an hour ago. Hadn't we better dress? Dinner will be +ready directly."</p> +<p>Fanny took no notice. She entered her cousin's room, in Diana's +wake.</p> +<p>"Well?" she said, interrogatively. She leaned her back against +the wardrobe, and folded her arms.</p> +<p>Diana turned. She met Fanny's black eyes, sparkling with +excitement.</p> +<p>"I'll give you my news at dinner," said Diana, flushing against +her will. "And I want to know how you liked Miss Drake."</p> +<p>Fanny's eyes shot fire.</p> +<p>"That's all very fine! That means, of course, that you're not +going to tell me anything!"</p> +<p>"Fanny!" cried Diana, helplessly. She was held spellbound by the +passion, the menace in the girl's look. But the touch of shrinking +in her attitude roused brutal violence in Fanny.</p> +<p>"Yes, it does!" she said, fiercely. "I understand!--don't I! I +am not good enough for you, and you'll make me feel it. You're +going to make a smart marriage, and you won't care whether you ever +set eyes on any of us again. Oh! I know you've given us money--or +you say you will. If I knew which side my bread was buttered, I +suppose I should hold my tongue.--But when you treat me like the +dirt under your feet--when you tell everything to that woman Mrs. +Colwood, who's no relation, and nothing in the world to you--and +leave me kicking my heels all alone, because I'm not the kind you +want, and you wish to goodness I'd never come--when you show as +plain as you can that I'm a common creature--not fit to pick up +your gloves!--I tell you I just won't stand it. No one would--who +knew what I know!"</p> +<p>The last words were flung in Diana's teeth with all the force +that wounded pride and envious wrath could give them. Diana +tottered a little. Her hand clung to the dressing-table behind +her.</p> +<p>"What do you know?" she said. "Tell me at once--what you +mean."</p> +<p>Fanny contemptuously shook her head. She walked to the door, and +before Diana could stop her, she had rushed across to her own room +and locked herself in.</p> +<p>There she walked up and down panting. She hardly understood her +own rage, and she was quite conscious that, for her own interests, +she had acted during the whole afternoon like a fool. First, stung +by the pique excited in her by the talk of the luncheon-table, she +had let herself be exploited and explored by Alicia Drake. She had +not meant to tell her secret, but somehow she had told it, simply +to give herself importance with this smart lady, and to feel her +power over Diana. Then, it was no sooner told than she was quickly +conscious that she had given away an advantage, which from a +tactical point of view she had infinitely better have kept; and +that the command of the situation might have passed from her to +this girl whom Diana had supplanted. Furious with herself, she had +tried to swear Miss Drake to silence, only to be politely but +rather scornfully put aside.</p> +<p>Then the party had broken up. Mr. Birch had been offended by the +absence of the hostess, and had vouchsafed but a careless good-bye +to Miss Merton. The Roughsedges went off without asking her to +visit them; and as for the Captain, he was an odious young man. +Since their departure, Mrs. Colwood had neglected her, and now +Diana's secret return, her long talk with Mrs. Colwood, had filled +the girl's cup of bitterness. She had secured that day a thousand +pounds for her family and herself; and at the end of it, she merely +felt that the day had been an abject and intolerable failure! Did +the fact that she so felt it bear strange witness to the truth that +at the bottom of her anger and her cruelty there was a masked and +distorted something which was not wholly vile--which was, in fact, +the nature's tribute to something nobler than itself? That Diana +shivered at and repulsed her was the hot-iron that burned and +seared. And that she richly deserved it--and knew it--made its +smart not a whit the less.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Fanny did not appear at dinner. Mrs. Colwood and Diana dined +alone--Diana very white and silent. After dinner, Diana began +slowly to climb the shallow old staircase. Mrs. Colwood followed +her.</p> +<p>"Where are you going?" she said, trying to hold her back.</p> +<p>Diana looked at her. In the girl's eyes there was a sudden and +tragic indignation.</p> +<p>"Do you all know?" she said, under her breath--"all--all of +you?" And again she began to mount, with a resolute step.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood dared not follow her any farther. Diana went +quickly up and along the gallery; she knocked at Fanny's door. +After a moment Mrs. Colwood heard it opened, and a parley of +voices--Fanny's short and sullen, Diana's very low. Then the door +closed, and Mrs. Colwood knew that the cousins were together.</p> +<p>How the next twenty minutes passed, Mrs. Colwood could never +remember. At the end of them she heard steps slowly coming down the +stairs, and a cry--her own name--not in Diana's voice. She ran out +into the hall.</p> +<p>At the top of the stairs, stood Fanny Merton, not daring to move +farther. Her eyes were starting out of her head, her face flushed +and distorted.</p> +<p>"You go to her!" She stooped, panting, over the balusters, +addressing Mrs. Colwood. "She won't let me touch her."</p> +<p>Diana descended, groping. At the foot of the stairs she caught +at Mrs. Colwood's hand, went swaying across the hall and into the +drawing-room. There she closed the door, and looked into Mrs. +Colwood's eyes. Muriel saw a face in which bloom and first youth +were forever dead, though in its delicate features horror was still +beautiful. She threw her arms round the girl, weeping. But Diana +put her aside. She walked to a chair, and sat down. "My mother--" +she said, looking up.</p> +<p>Her voice dropped. She moistened her dry lips, and began once +more: "My mother--"</p> +<p>But the brain could maintain its flickering strength no longer. +There was a low cry of "Oliver!" that stabbed the heart; then, +suddenly, her limbs were loosened, and she sank back, unconscious, +out of her friend's grasp and ken.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br> +<p>"Her ladyship will be here directly, sir." Lady Lucy's +immaculate butler opened the door of her drawing-room in Eaton +Square, ushered in Sir James Chide, noiselessly crossed the room to +see to the fire, and then as noiselessly withdrew.</p> +<p>"Impossible that any one should be as respectable as that man +looks!" thought Sir James, impatiently. He walked forward to the +fire, warmed hands and feet chilled by a nipping east wind, and +then, with his back to the warmth, he examined the room.</p> +<p>It was very characteristic of its mistress. At Tallyn Henry +Marsham had worked his will; here, in this house taken since his +death, it was the will and taste of his widow which had prevailed. +A gray paper with a small gold sprig upon it, sofas and chairs not +too luxurious, a Brussels carpet, dark and unobtrusive, and chintz +curtains; on the walls, drawings by David Cox, Copley Fielding, and +De Wint; a few books with Mudie labels; costly photographs of +friends and relations, especially of the relations' babies; on one +table, and under a glass case, a model in pith of Lincoln +Cathedral, made by Lady Lucy's uncle, who had been a Canon of +Lincoln; on another, a set of fine carved chessmen; such was the +furniture of the room. It expressed--and with emphasis--the tastes +and likings of that section of English society in which, firmly +based as it is upon an ample supply of all material goods, a seemly +and intelligent interest in things ideal and spiritual is also to +be found. Everything in the room was in its place, and had been in +its place for years. Sir James got no help from the contemplation +of it.</p> +<p>The door opened, and Lady Lucy came quietly in. Sir James looked +at her sharply as they shook hands. She had more color than usual; +but the result was to make the face look older, and certain lines +in it disagreeably prominent. Very likely she had been crying. He +hoped she had.</p> +<p>"Oliver told you to expect me?"</p> +<p>She assented. Then, still standing, she looked at him +steadily.</p> +<p>"This is a very terrible affair, Sir James."</p> +<p>"Yes. It must have been a great shock to you."</p> +<p>"Oh! that does not matter," she said, impatiently. "I must not +think of myself. I must think of Oliver. Will you sit down?"</p> +<p>She motioned him, in her stately way, to a seat. He realized, as +he faced her, that he beheld her in a new aspect. She was no longer +the gracious and smiling hostess, as her familiar friends knew her, +both at Tallyn and in London. Her manner threw a sudden light on +certain features in her history: Marsham's continued dependence on +his mother and inadequate allowance, the autocratic ability shown +in the management of the Tallyn household and estates, management +in which Marsham was allowed practically no share at all, and other +traits and facts long known to him. The gentle, scrupulous, +composed woman of every day had vanished in something far more +vigorously drawn; he felt himself confronted by a personality as +strong as, and probably more stubborn than his own.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy seated herself. She quietly arranged the folds of her +black satin dress; she drew forward a stool, and rested her feet +upon it. Sir James watched her, uncertain how to begin. But she +saved him the decision.</p> +<p>"I have had a painful interview with my son" she said, quietly. +"It could not be otherwise, and I can only hope that in a little +while he will do me justice. Oliver will join us presently. And +now--first, Sir James, let me ask you--you really believe that Miss +Mallory has been till now in ignorance of her mother's +history?"</p> +<p>Sir James started.</p> +<p>"Good Heavens, Lady Lucy! Can you--do you--suppose anything +else?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy paused before replying.</p> +<p>"I cannot suppose it--since both you and my son--and Mr. +Ferrier--have so high an opinion of her. But it is a strange and +mysterious thing that she should have remained in this complete +ignorance all these years--and a cruel thing, of course--to +everybody concerned."</p> +<p>Sir James nodded.</p> +<p>"I agree. It was a cruel thing, though it was done, no doubt, +from the tenderest motives. The suffering was bound to be not less +but more, sooner or later."</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory is very greatly to be pitied. But it is, of +course, clear that my son proposed to her, not knowing what it was +essential that he should know."</p> +<p>Sir James paused.</p> +<p>"We are old friends, Lady Lucy--you and I," he said at last, +with deliberation; and as he spoke he bent forward and took her +hand. "I am sure you will let me ask you a few questions."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy made no reply. Her hand--without any movement of +withdrawal or rebuff--gently dropped from his.</p> +<p>"You have been, I think, much attracted by Miss Mallory +herself?"</p> +<p>"Very much attracted. Up to this morning I thought that she +would make an excellent wife for Oliver. But I have been acting, of +course, throughout under a false impression."</p> +<p>"Is it your feeling that to marry her would injure Oliver's +career?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. But that is not what weighs with me most +heavily."</p> +<p>"I did not for a moment believe that it would. However, let us +take the career first. This is how I look at it. If the marriage +went forward, there would no doubt be some scandal and excitement +at first, when the truth was known. But Oliver's personality and +the girl's charm would soon live it down. In this strange world I +am not at all sure it might not in the end help their future. +Oliver would be thought to have done a generous and romantic thing, +and his wife's goodness and beauty would be all the more +appreciated for the background of tragedy."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy moved impatiently.</p> +<p>"Sir James--I am a plain person, with plain ideas. The case +would present itself to me very differently; and I believe that my +view would be that of the ordinary man and woman. However, I +repeat, that is not what I think of first--by any means."</p> +<p>"You think of the criminal taint?--the risk to Oliver--and to +Oliver's children?"</p> +<p>She made a sign of assent.</p> +<p>"Character--and the protection of character--is not that what we +have to think of--above all--in this world of temptation? We can +none of us afford to throw away the ordinary helps and safeguards. +How can I possibly aid and abet Oliver's marriage with the daughter +of a woman who first robbed her own young sister, in a peculiarly +mean and cruel way, and then committed a deliberate and treacherous +murder?"</p> +<p>"Wait a moment!" exclaimed Sir James, holding up his hand. +"Those adjectives, believe me, are unjust."</p> +<p>"I know that you think so," was the animated reply. "But I +remember the case; I have my own opinion."</p> +<p>"They are unjust," repeated Sir James, with emphasis. "Then it +is really the horror of the thing itself--not so much its possible +effect on social position and opinion, which decides you?"</p> +<p>"I ask myself--I must ask myself," said his companion, with +equal emphasis, forcing the words: "can I help Oliver to marry the +daughter--of a convicted murderess--and adulteress?"</p> +<p>"No!" said Sir James, holding up his hand +again--"<i>No!"</i></p> +<p>Lady Lucy fell back in her chair. Her unwonted color had +disappeared, and the old hand lying in her lap--a hand thin to +emaciation--shook a little.</p> +<p>"Is not this too painful for us both, Sir James?--can we +continue it? I have my duty to think of; and yet--I cannot, +naturally, speak to you with entire frankness. Nor can I possibly +regard your view as an impartial one. Forgive me. I should not have +dreamed of referring to the matter in any other circumstances."</p> +<p>"Certainly, I am not impartial," said Sir James, looking up. +"You know that, of course, well enough."</p> +<p>He spoke in a strong full voice. Lady Lucy encountered a +singular vivacity in the gray eyes, as though the whole power of +the man's personality backed the words.</p> +<p>"Believe me," she said, with dignity, and not without kindness, +"it is not I who would revive such memories."</p> +<p>Sir James nodded quietly.</p> +<p>"I am not impartial; but I am well informed. It was my view +which affected the judge, and ultimately the Home Office. And since +the trial--in quite recent years--I have received a strange +confirmation of it which has never been made public. Did Oliver +report this to you?"</p> +<p>"He told me certain facts," said Lady Lucy, unwillingly; "but I +did not see that they made much difference."</p> +<p>"Perhaps he did not give them the right emphasis," said Sir +James, calmly. "Will you allow <i>me</i> to tell you the whole +story?--as it appears to me."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy looked distressed.</p> +<p>"Is it worth while," she said, earnestly, "to give yourself so +much pain? I cannot imagine that it could alter the view I take of +my duty."</p> +<p>Sir James flushed, and sternly straightened himself. It was a +well-known gesture, and ominous to many a prisoner in the dock.</p> +<p>"Worth while!" he said. "Worth while!--when your son's future +may depend on the judgment you form."</p> +<p>The sharpness of his tone called the red also to Lady Lucy's +cheek.</p> +<p>"Can anything that may be said now alter the irrevocable?" she +asked, in protest.</p> +<p>"It cannot bring the dead to life; but if you are really more +influenced in this matter by the heinousness of the crime itself, +by the moral infection, so to speak--that may spring from any +kinship with Juliet Sparling or inheritance from her--than by any +dread of social disgrace or disadvantage--if that be true!--then +for Oliver's sake--for that poor child's sake--you <i>ought</i> to +listen to me! There, I can meet you--there, I have much to +say."</p> +<p>He looked at her earnestly. The slight, involuntary changes of +expression in Lady Lucy, as he was speaking, made him say to +himself: "She is <i>not</i> indifferent to the social stigma--she +deceives herself!" But he made no sign of his perception; he held +her to her word.</p> +<p>She paused, in evident hesitation, saying at last, with some +coldness:</p> +<p>"If you wish it, Sir James, of course I am quite ready to +listen. I desire to do nothing harshly."</p> +<p>"I will not keep you long."</p> +<p>Bending forward, his hands on his knees, his eyes upon the +ground, he thought a moment. When he began to speak, it was in a +quiet and perfectly colorless tone.</p> +<p>"I knew Juliet Wentworth first--when she was seventeen. I was on +the Midland Circuit, and went down to the Milchester Assizes. Her +father was High Sheriff, and asked me, with other barristers of the +Circuit, not only to his official dinner in the county town, but to +luncheon at his house, a mile or two away. There I saw Miss +Wentworth. She made a deep impression on me. After the Assizes were +over, I stayed at her father's house and in the neighborhood. +Within a month I proposed to her. She refused me. I merely mention +these circumstances for the sake of reporting my first impressions +of her character. She was very young, and of an extraordinarily +nervous and sensitive organization. She used to remind me of +Horace's image of the young fawn trembling and starting in the +mountain paths at the rustling of a leaf or the movement of a +lizard. I felt then that her life might very well be a tragedy, and +I passionately desired to be able to protect and help her. However, +she would have nothing to do with me, and after a little while I +lost sight of her. I did happen to hear that her father, having +lost his first wife, had married again, that the girl was not happy +at home, and had gone off on a long visit to some friends in the +United States. Then for years I heard nothing. One evening, about +ten years after my first meeting with her, I read in the evening +papers the accounts of a 'Supposed Murder at Brighton.' Next +morning Riley & Bonner retained me for the defence. Mr. Riley +came to see me, with Mr. Sparling, the husband of the incriminated +lady, and it was in the course of my consultation with them that I +learned who Mrs. Sparling was. I had to consider whether to take up +the case or not; I saw at once it would be a fight for her life, +and I accepted it."</p> +<p>"What a terrible--terrible--position!" murmured Lady Lucy, who +was shading her eyes with her hand.</p> +<p>Sir James took no notice. His trained mind and sense were now +wholly concerned with the presentation of his story.</p> +<p>"The main facts, as I see them, were these. Juliet Wentworth had +married--four years before this date--a scholar and +archæologist whom she had met at Harvard during her American +stay. Mr. Sparling was an Englishman, and a man of some means who +was devoting himself to exploration in Asia Minor. The marriage was +not really happy, though they were in love with each other. In both +there was a temperament touched with melancholy, and a curious +incapacity to accept the common facts of life. Both hated routine, +and were always restless for new experience. Mrs. Sparling was +brilliant in society. She was wonderfully handsome, in a small +slight way; her face was not unlike Miss Curran's picture of +Shelley--the same wildness and splendor in the eyes, the same +delicacy of feature, the same slight excess of breadth across the +cheek-bones, and curly mass of hair. She was odd, wayward, +eccentric--yet always lovable and full of charm. He was a fine +creature in many ways, but utterly unfit for practical life. His +mind was always dreaming of buried treasure--the treasure of the +archæologist: tombs, vases, gold ornaments, papyri; he had +the passion of the excavator and explorer.</p> +<p>"They came back to England from America shortly after their +marriage, and their child was born. The little girl was three years +old when Sparling went off to dig in a remote part of Asia Minor. +His wife resented his going; but there is no doubt that she was +still deeply in love with him. She herself took a little house at +Brighton for the child's sake. Her small startling beauty soon made +her remarked, and her acquaintances rapidly increased. She was too +independent and unconventional to ask many questions about the +people that amused her; she took them as they came--"</p> +<p>"Sir James!--dear Sir James." Lady Lucy raised a pair of +imploring hands. "What good can it do that you should tell me all +this? It shows that this poor creature had a wild, undisciplined +character. Could any one ever doubt it?"</p> +<p>"Wild? undisciplined?" repeated Sir James. "Well, if you think +that you have disposed of the mystery of it by those adjectives! +For me--looking back--she was what life and temperament and +heredity had made her. Up to this point it was an innocent +wildness. She could lose herself in art or music; she did often the +most romantic and generous things; she adored her child; and but +for some strange kink in the tie that bound them, she would have +adored her husband. Well!"--he shrugged his shoulders +mournfully--"there it is: she was alone--she was beautiful--she had +no doubt a sense of being neglected--she was thirsting for some +deeper draught of life than had yet been hers--and by the hideous +irony of fate she found it--in gambling!--and in the friendship +which ruined her!"</p> +<p>Sir James paused. Rising from his chair, he began to pace the +large room. The immaculate butler came in, made up the fire, and +placed the tea: domestic and comfortable rites, in grim contrast +with the story that held the minds of Lady Lucy and her guest. She +sat motionless meanwhile; the butler withdrew, and the tea remained +untouched.</p> +<p>"Sir Francis and Lady Wing--the two fiends who got possession of +her--had been settled at Brighton for about a year. Their debts had +obliged them to leave London, and they had not yet piled up a +sufficient mountain of fresh ones to drive them out of Brighton. +The man was the disreputable son of a rich and hard-working father +who, in the usual way, had damned his son by removing all +incentives to work, and turning him loose with a pile of money. He +had married an adventuress--a girl with a music-hall history, some +beauty, plenty of vicious ability, and no more conscience than a +stone. They were the centre of a gambling and racing set; but Lady +Wing was also a very fine musician, and it was through this talent +of hers that she and Juliet Sparling became acquainted. They met, +first, at a charity concert! Mrs. Sparling had a fine voice, Lady +Wing accompanied her. The Wings flattered her, and professed to +adore her. Her absent whimsical character prevented her from +understanding what kind of people they were; and in her great +ignorance of the world, combined with her love of the romantic and +the extreme, she took the persons who haunted their house for +Bohemians, when she should have known them--the majority of +them--for scoundrels. You will remember that baccarat was then the +rage. The Wings played it incessantly, and were very skilful in the +decoying and plunder of young men. Juliet Sparling was soon seized +by the excitement of the game, and her beauty, her evident good +breeding and good faith, were of considerable use to the Wings' +<i>ménage</i>. Very soon she had lost all the money that her +husband had left to her credit, and her bankers wrote to notify her +that she was overdrawn. A sudden terror of Sparling's displeasure +seized her; she sold a bracelet, and tried to win back what she had +lost. The result was only fresh loss, and in a panic she played on +and on, till one disastrous night she got up from the +baccarat-table heavily in debt to one or two persons, including Sir +Francis Wing. With the morning came a letter from her husband, +remonstrating in a rather sharp tone on what her own letters--and +probably an account from some other source--had told him of her +life at Brighton; insisting on the need for economy, owing to his +own heavy expenses in the great excavation he was engaged upon; and +expressing the peremptory hope that she would make the money he had +left her last for another two months--"</p> +<p>Sir James lingered in his walk. He stared out of window at the +square garden for a few moments, then turned to look frowning at +his companion.</p> +<p>"Then came her temptation. Her father had died a year before, +leaving her the trustee of her only sister, who was not yet of age. +It had taken some little time to wind up his affairs; but on the +day after she received her husband's letter of remonstrance, six +thousand pounds out of her father's estate was paid into her +banking account. By this time she was in one of those states of +excitement and unreasoning terror to which she had been liable from +her childhood. She took the trust money in order to pay the debts, +and then gambled again in order to replace the trust money. Her +motive throughout was the motive of the hunted creature. She was +afraid of confessing to her husband, especially by letter. She +believed he would cast her off--and in her despair and remorse she +clung to his affection, and to the hope of his coming home, as she +had never yet done.</p> +<p>"In less than a month--in spite of ups and downs of fortune, +probably skilfully contrived by Francis Wing and his +accomplices--for there can be no question that the play was +fraudulent--she had lost four thousand out of the six; and it is +clear that more than once she thought of suicide as the only way +out, and nothing but the remembrance of the child restrained her. +By this time Francis Wing, who was a most handsome, well-bred, and +plausible villain, was desperately in love with her--if one can use +the word love for such a passion. He began to lend her money in +small sums. She was induced to look upon him as her only friend, +and forced by the mere terror of the situation in which she found +herself to propitiate and play him as best she might. One day, in +an unguarded moment of remorse, she let him guess what had happened +about the trust money. Thenceforward she was wholly in his power. +He pressed his attentions upon her; and she, alternately civil and +repellent, as her mood went, was regarded by some of the guests in +the house as not unlikely to respond to them in the end. Meanwhile +he had told his wife the secret of the trust money for his own +purposes. Lady Wing, who was an extremely jealous woman, believed +at this time that he was merely pretending a passion for Mrs. +Sparling in order the more securely to plunder what still remained +of the six thousand pounds. She therefore aided and abetted him; +and <i>her</i> plan, no doubt, was to wait till they and their +accomplices had absorbed the last of Mrs. Sparling's money, and +then to make a midnight flitting, leaving their victim to her +fate.</p> +<p>"The <i>dénouement</i>, however, came with frightful +rapidity. The Wings had taken an old house at the back of the downs +for the summer, no doubt to escape from some of the notoriety they +had gained in Brighton. There--to her final ruin--Juliet Sparling +was induced to join them, and gambling began again; she still +desperately hoping to replace the trust money, and salving her +conscience, as to her sister, by drawing for the time on the sums +lent her by Francis Wing.--Here at last Lady Wing's suspicion was +aroused, and Mrs. Sparling found herself between the hatred of the +wife and the dishonorable passion of the husband. Yet to leave them +would be the signal for exposure. For some time the presence of +other guests protected her. Then the guests left, and one August +night after dinner, Francis Wing, who had drunk a great deal of +champagne, made frantic love to her. She escaped from him with +difficulty, in a passion of loathing and terror, and rushed +in-doors, where she found Lady Wing in the gallery of the old +house, on the first floor, walking up and down in a jealous fury. +Juliet Sparling burst in upon her with the reproaches of a woman +driven to bay, threatening to go at once to her husband and make a +clean breast of the whole history of their miserable acquaintance. +She was practically beside herself--already, as the sequel showed, +mortally ill, worn out by remorse and sleeplessness, and quivering +under the insult which had been offered her. Lady Wing recovered +her own self-possession under the stimulus of Juliet's breakdown. +She taunted her in the cruelest way, accused her of being the +temptress in the case of Sir Francis, and of simulating a +hypocritical indignation in order to save herself with her husband, +and finally charged her with the robbery of her sister's money, +declaring that as soon as daylight came she would take steps to set +the criminal law in motion, and so protect both herself and her +husband from any charge such a woman might bring against them. The +threat, of course, was mere bluff. But Mrs. Sparling, in her frenzy +and her ignorance, took it for truth. Finally, the fierce creature +came up to her, snatching at a brooch in the bosom of her dress, +and crying out in the vilest language that it was Sir Francis's +gift. Juliet, pushed up against the panelling of the gallery, +caught at a dagger belonging to a trophy of Eastern arms displayed +on the wall, close to her hand, and struck wildly at her tormentor. +The dagger pierced Lady Wing's left breast--she was in evening +dress and <i>décolletée</i>; it penetrated to the +heart, and she fell dead at Juliet's feet as her husband entered +the gallery. Juliet dropped the dagger; and as Sir Francis rushed +to his wife, she fled shrieking up the stairs--her white dress +covered with blood--to her own room, falling unconscious before she +reached it. She was carried to her room by the servants--the police +were sent for--and the rest--or most of the rest--you know."</p> +<p>Sir James ceased speaking. A heavy silence possessed the +room.</p> +<p>Sir James walked quickly up to his companion.</p> +<p>"Now I ask you to notice two points in the story as I have told +it. My cross-examination of Wing served its purpose as an exposure +of the man--except in one direction. He swore that Mrs. Sparling +had made dishonorable advances to him, and had finally become his +mistress, in order to buy his silence on the trust money and the +continuance of his financial help. On the other hand, the case for +the defence was that--as I have stated--it was in the maddened +state of feeling, provoked by his attack upon her honor, and made +intolerable by the wife's taunts and threats, that Juliet Sparling +struck the fatal blow. At the trial the judge believed me; the +jury--and a large part of the public--you, I have no doubt among +them--believed Wing. The jury were probably influenced by some of +the evidence given by the fellow-guests in the house, which seemed +to me simply to amount to this--that a woman in the strait in which +Juliet Sparling was will endeavor, out of mortal fear, to keep the +ruffian who has her in his power in a good-humor."</p> +<p>"However, I have now confirmatory evidence for my theory of the +matter--evidence which has never been produced--and which I tell +you now simply because the happiness of her child--and of your +son--is at stake."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy moved a little. The color returned to her cheeks. Sir +James, however, gave her no time to interrupt. He stood before her, +smiting one hand against another, to emphasize his words, as he +continued:</p> +<p>"Francis Wing lived for some eighteen years after Mrs. +Sparling's death. Then, just as the police were at last on his +track as the avengers of a long series of frauds, he died at +Antwerp in extreme poverty and degradation. The day before he died +he dictated a letter to me, which reached me, through a priest, +twenty-four hours after his death. For his son's sake, he invited +me to regard it as confidential. If Mrs. Sparling had been alive I +should, of course, have taken no notice of the request. But she had +been dead for eighteen years; I had lost sight completely of +Sparling and the child, and, curiously enough, I knew something of +Wing's son. He was about ten years old at the death of his mother, +and was then rescued from his father by the Wing kindred and +decently brought up. At the time the letter reached me he was a +promising young man of eight-and-twenty, he had just been called to +the Bar, and he was in the chambers of a friend of mine. By +publishing Wing's confession I could do no good to the dead, and I +might harm the living. So I held my tongue. Whether, now, I should +still hold it is, no doubt, a question.</p> +<p>"However, to go back to the statement. Wing declared to me in +this letter that Juliet Sparling's relation to him had been +absolutely innocent, that he had persecuted her with his suit, and +she had never given him a friendly word, except out of fear. On the +fatal evening he had driven her out of her mind, he said, by his +behavior in the garden; she was not answerable for her actions; and +his evidence at the trial was merely dictated either by the desire +to make his own case look less black or by the fiendish wish to +punish Juliet Sparling for her loathing of him.</p> +<p>"But he confessed something else!--more important still. I must +go back a little. You will remember my version of the dagger +incident? I represented Mrs. Sparling as finding the dagger on the +wall as she was pushed or dragged up against the panelling by her +antagonist--as it were, under her hand. Wing swore at the trial +that the dagger was not there, and had never been there. The house +belonged to an old traveller and sportsman who had brought home +arms of different sorts from all parts of the world. The house was +full of them. There were two collections of them on the wall of the +dining-room, one in the hall, and one or two in the gallery. Wing +declared that the dagger used was taken by Juliet Sparling from the +hall trophy, and must have been carried up-stairs with a deliberate +purpose of murder. According to him, their quarrel in the garden +had been a quarrel about money matters, and Mrs. Sparling had left +him, in great excitement, convinced that the chief obstacle in the +way of her complete control of Wing and his money lay in the wife. +There again--as to the weapon--I had no means of refuting him. As +far as the appearance--after the murder--of the racks holding the +arms was concerned, the weapon might have been taken from either +place. And again--on the whole--the jury believed Wing. The robbery +of the sister's money--the incredible rapidity of Juliet Sparling's +deterioration--had set them against her. Her wild beauty, her proud +and dumb misery in the dock, were of a kind rather to alienate the +plain man than to move him. They believed her capable of +anything--and it was natural enough.</p> +<p>"But Wing confessed to me that he knew perfectly well that the +dagger belonged to the stand in the gallery. He had often examined +the arms there, and was quite certain of the fact. He swore this to +the priest. Here, again, you can only explain his evidence by a +desire for revenge."</p> +<p>Sir James paused. As he moved a little away from his companion +his expression altered. It was as though he put from him the +external incidents and considerations with which he had been +dealing, and the vivacity of manner which fitted them. Feelings and +forces of another kind emerged, clothing themselves in the beauty +of an incomparable voice, and in an aspect of humane and melancholy +dignity.</p> +<p>He turned to Lady Lucy.</p> +<p>"Now then," he said, gently, "I am in a position to put the +matter to you finally, as--before God--it appears to me. Juliet +Sparling--as I said to Oliver last night--was not a bad woman! She +sinned deeply, but she was never false to her husband in thought or +deed; none of her wrong-doing was deliberate; she was tortured by +remorse; and her murderous act was the impulse of a moment, and +partly in self-defence. It was wholly unpremeditated; and it killed +her no less than her victim. When, next day, she was removed by the +police, she was already a dying woman. I have in my possession a +letter--written to me by her--after her release, in view of her +impending death, by the order of the Home Office--a few days before +she died. It is humble--it is heart-rending--it breathes the +sincerity of one who had turned all her thoughts from earth; but it +thanked me for having read her aright; and if ever I could have +felt a doubt of my own interpretation of the case--but, thank God, +I never did!--that letter would have shamed it out of me! Poor +soul, poor soul! She sinned, and she suffered--agonies, beyond any +penalty of man's inflicting. Will you prolong her punishment in her +child?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy had covered her face with her hand. He saw her breath +flutter in her breast. And sitting down beside her, blanched by the +effort he had made, and by the emotion he had at last permitted +himself, yet fixing his eyes steadily on the woman before him, he +waited for her reply.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br> +<p>Lady Lucy did not reply at once. She slowly drew forward the +neglected tea-table, made tea, and offered it to Sir James. He took +it impatiently, the Irish blood in him running hot and fast; and +when she had finished her cup, and still the silence lasted, except +for the trivial question-and-answer of the tea-making, he broke in +upon it with a somewhat peremptory--</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy clasped her hands on her lap. The hand which had been +so far bare was now gloved like the other, and something in the +spectacle of the long fingers, calmly interlocked and clad in +spotless white kid, increased the secret exasperation in her +companion.</p> +<p>"Believe me, dear Sir James," she said at last, lifting her +clear brown eyes, "I am very grateful to you. It must have been a +great effort for you to tell me this awful story, and I thank you +for the confidence you have reposed in me."</p> +<p>Sir James pushed his chair back.</p> +<p>"I did it, of course, for a special reason," he said, sharply. +"I hope I have given you cause to change your mind."</p> +<p>She shook her head slowly.</p> +<p>"What have you proved to me? That Mrs. Sparling's crime was not +so hideous as some of us supposed?--that she did not fall to the +lowest depths of all?--and that she endured great provocation? But +could anything really be more vile than the history of those weeks +of excitement and fraud?--of base yielding to temptation?--of +cruelty to her husband and child?--even as you have told it? Her +conduct led directly to adultery and violence. If, by God's mercy, +she was saved from the worst crimes imputed to her, does it make +much difference to the moral judgment we must form?"</p> +<p>He looked at her in amazement.</p> +<p>"No difference!--between murder and a kind of accident?--between +adultery and fidelity?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy hesitated--then resumed, with stubbornness: "You put +it--like an advocate. But look at the indelible facts--look at the +future. If my son married the daughter of such a woman and had +children, what must happen? First of all, could he, could any one, +be free from the dread of inherited lawlessness and passion? A +woman does not gamble, steal, and take life in a moment of violence +without some exceptional flaw in temperament and will, and we see +again and again how such flaws reappear in the descendants of weak +and wicked people. Then again--Oliver must renounce and throw away +all that is implied in family memories and traditions. His wife +could never speak to her children and his of her own mother and +bringing up. They would be kept in ignorance, as she herself was +kept, till the time came that they must know. Say what you will, +Juliet Sparling was condemned to death for murder in a notorious +case--after a trial which also branded her as a thief. Think of a +boy at Eton or Oxford--a girl in her first youth--hearing for the +first time--perhaps in some casual way--the story of the woman +whose blood ran in theirs!--What a cloud on a family!--what a +danger and drawback for young lives!"</p> +<p>Her delicate features, under the crown of white hair, were once +more flooded with color, and the passion in her eyes held them +steady under Sir James's penetrating look. Through his inner mind +there ran the cry: "Pharisee!--Hypocrite!"</p> +<p>But he fought on.</p> +<p>"Lady Lucy!--your son loves this girl--remember that! And in +herself you admit that she is blameless--all that you could desire +for his wife--remember that also."</p> +<p>"I remember both. But I was brought up by people who never +admitted that any feeling was beyond our control or ought to be +indulged--against right and reason."</p> +<p>"Supposing Oliver entirely declines to take your +view?--supposing he marries Miss Mallory?"</p> +<p>"He will not break my heart," she said, drawing a quicker +breath. "He will get over it."</p> +<p>"But if he persists?"</p> +<p>"He must take the consequences. I cannot aid and abet him."</p> +<p>"And the girl herself? She has accepted him. She is young, +innocent, full of tender and sensitive feeling. Is it possible that +you should not weigh her claim against your fears and +scruples?"</p> +<p>"I feel for her most sincerely."</p> +<p>Sir James suddenly threw out a restless foot, which caught Lady +Lucy's fox terrier, who was snoozing under the tea-table. He +hastily apologized, and the speaker resumed:</p> +<p>"But, in my opinion, she would do a far nobler thing if she +regarded herself as bound to some extent to bear her mother's +burden--to pay her mother's debt to society. It may sound +harsh--but is it? Is a dedicated life necessarily an unhappy life? +Would not everybody respect and revere her? She would sacrifice +herself, as the Sister of Mercy does, or the missionary, and she +would find her reward. But to enter a family with an unstained +record, bearing with her such a name and such associations, would +be, in my opinion, a wrong and selfish act!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy drew herself to her full height. In the dusk of the +declining afternoon the black satin and white ruffles of her dress, +her white head in its lace cap, her thin neck and shoulders, her +tall slenderness, and the rigidity of her attitude, made a +formidable study in personality. Sir James's whole soul rose in one +scornful and indignant protest. But he felt himself beaten. The +only hope lay in Oliver himself.</p> +<p>He rose slowly from his chair.</p> +<p>"It is useless, I see, to try and argue the matter further. But +I warn you: I do not believe that Oliver will obey you, +and--forgive me Lady Lucy!--but--frankly--I hope he will not. Nor +will he suffer too severely, even if you, his mother, desert him. +Miss Mallory has some fortune--"</p> +<p>"Oliver will not live upon his wife!"</p> +<p>"He may accept her aid till he has found some way of earning +money. What amazes me--if you will allow me the liberty of an old +friend--is that you should think a woman justified in coercing a +son of mature age in such a matter!"</p> +<p>His tone, his manner pierced Lady Lucy's pride. She threw back +her head nervously, but her tone was calm:</p> +<p>"A woman to whom property has been intrusted must do her best to +see that the will and desires of those who placed it in her hands +are carried out!"</p> +<p>"Well, well!"--Sir James looked for his stick--"I am sorry for +Oliver--but"--he straightened himself--"it will make a bigger man +of him."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy made no reply, but her expression was eloquent of a +patience which her old friend might abuse if he would.</p> +<p>"Does Ferrier know? Have you consulted him?" asked Sir James, +turning abruptly.</p> +<p>"He will be here, I think, this afternoon--as usual," said Lady +Lucy, evasively. "And, of course, he must know what concerns us so +deeply."</p> +<p>As she spoke the hall-door bell was heard.</p> +<p>"That is probably he." She looked at her companion uncertainly. +"Don't go, Sir James--unless you are really in a hurry."</p> +<p>The invitation was not urgent; but Sir James stayed, all the +same. Ferrier was a man so interesting to his friends that no +judgment of his could be indifferent to them. Moreover, there was a +certain angry curiosity as to how far Lady Lucy's influence would +affect him. Chide took inward note of the fact that his speculation +took this form, and not another. Oh! the hypocritical obstinacy of +decent women!--the lack in them of heart, of generosity, of +imagination!</p> +<p>The door opened, and Ferrier entered, with Marsham and the +butler behind him. Mr. Ferrier, in his London frock-coat, appeared +rounder and heavier than ever but for the contradictory vigor and +lightness of his step, the shrewd cheerfulness of the eyes. It had +been a hard week in Parliament, however, and his features and +complexion showed signs of overwork and short sleep.</p> +<p>For a few minutes, while tea was renewed, and the curtains +closed, he maintained a pleasant chat with Lady Lucy, while the +other two looked at each other in silence.</p> +<p>But when the servant had gone, Ferrier put down his cup +unfinished. "I am very sorry for you both," he said, gravely, +looking from Lady Lucy to her son. "I need not say your letter this +morning took me wholly by surprise. I have since been doing my best +to think of a way out."</p> +<p>There was a short pause--broken by Marsham, who was sitting a +little apart from the others, restlessly fingering a +paper-knife.</p> +<p>"If you could persuade my mother to take a kind and reasonable +view," he said, abruptly; "that is really the only way out."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy stiffened under the attack. Drawn on by Ferrier's +interrogative glance, she quietly repeated, with more detail, and +even greater austerity, the arguments and considerations she had +made use of in her wrestle with Sir James. Chide clearly perceived +that her opposition was hardening with every successive explanation +of it. What had been at first, no doubt, an instinctive recoil was +now being converted into a plausible and reasoned case, and the +oftener she repeated it the stronger would she become on her own +side and the more in love with her own contentions.</p> +<p>Ferrier listened attentively; took note of what she reported as +to Sir James's fresh evidence; and when she ceased called upon +Chide to explain. Chide's second defence of Juliet Sparling as +given to a fellow-lawyer was a remarkable piece of technical +statement, admirably arranged, and unmarked by any trace of the +personal feeling he had not been able to hide from Lady Lucy.</p> +<p>"Most interesting--most interesting," murmured Ferrier, as the +story came to an end. "A tragic and memorable case."</p> +<p>He pondered a little, his eyes on the carpet, while the others +waited. Then he turned to Lady Lucy and took her hand.</p> +<p>"Dear lady!" he said, gently, "I think--you ought to give +way!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy's face quivered a little. She decidedly withdrew her +hand.</p> +<p>"I am sorry you are both against me," she said, looking from one +to the other. "I am sorry you help Oliver to think unkindly of me. +But if I must stand alone, I must. I cannot give way."</p> +<p>Ferrier raised his eyebrows with a little perplexed look. +Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he went to stand by the fire, +staring down into it a minute or two, as though the flames might +bring counsel.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory is still ignorant, Oliver--is that so?" he said, +at last.</p> +<p>"Entirely. But it is not possible she should continue to be so. +She has begun to make inquiries, and I agree with Sir James it is +right she should be told--"</p> +<p>"I propose to go down to Beechcote to-morrow," put in Sir +James.</p> +<p>"Have you any idea what view Miss Mallory would be likely to +take of the matter--as affecting her engagement?"</p> +<p>"She could have no view that was not unselfish and noble--like +herself," said Marsham, hotly. "What has that to do with it?"</p> +<br> +<a name="image-256.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-256.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-256.jpg" width="44%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"'Dear lady,' he said, gently, 'I think you ought to give +way!'"</b></p> +<br> +<p>"She might release you," was Ferrier's slow reply.</p> +<p>Marsham flushed.</p> +<p>"And you think I should be such a hound as to let her!"</p> +<p>Sir James only just prevented himself from throwing a triumphant +look at his hostess.</p> +<p>"You will, of course, inform her of your mother's opposition?" +said Ferrier.</p> +<p>"It will be impossible to keep it from her."</p> +<p>"Poor child!" murmured Ferrier--"poor child!"</p> +<p>Then he looked at Lady Lucy.</p> +<p>"May I take Oliver into the inner room a little while?" he +asked, pointing to a farther drawing-room.</p> +<p>"By all means. I shall be here when you return."</p> +<p>Sir James had a few hurried words in private with Marsham, and +then took his leave. As he and Lady Lucy shook hands, he gave her a +penetrating look.</p> +<p>"Try and think of the girl!" he said, in a low voice; "<i>the +girl</i>--in her first youth."</p> +<p>"I think of my son," was the unmoved reply. "Good-bye, Sir +James. I feel that we are adversaries, and I wish it were not +so."</p> +<p>Sir James walked away, possessed by a savage desire to do some +damage to the cathedral in pith, as he passed it on his way to the +door; or to shake his fist in the faces of Wilberforce and Lord +Shaftesbury, whose portraits adorned the staircase. The type of +Catholic woman which he most admired rose in his mind; +compassionate, tender, infinitely soft and loving--like the saints; +save where "the faith" was concerned--like the saints, again. This +Protestant rigidity and self-sufficiency were the deuce!</p> +<p>But he would go down to Beechcote, and he and Oliver between +them would see that child through.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, Ferrier and Marsham were in anxious conclave. Ferrier +counselled delay. "Let the thing sleep a little. Don't announce the +engagement. You and Miss Mallory will, of course, understand each +other. You will correspond. But don't hurry it. So much +consideration, at least, is due to your mother's strong +feeling."</p> +<p>Marsham assented, but despondently.</p> +<p>"You know my mother; time will make no difference."</p> +<p>"I'm not so sure--I'm not so sure," said Ferrier, cheerfully. +"Did your mother say anything about--finances?"</p> +<p>Marsham gave a gloomy smile.</p> +<p>"I shall be a pauper, of course--that was made quite plain to +me."</p> +<p>"No, no!--that must be prevented!" said Ferrier, with +energy.</p> +<p>Marsham was not quick to reply. His manner as he stood with his +back to the fire, his distinguished head well thrown back on his +straight, lean shoulders, was the manner of a proud man suffering +humiliation. He was thirty-six, and rapidly becoming a politician +of importance. Yet here he was--poor and impotent, in the midst of +great wealth, wholly dependent, by his father's monstrous will, on +his mother's caprice--liable to be thwarted and commanded, as +though he were a boy of fifteen. Up till now Lady Lucy's yoke had +been tolerable; to-day it galled beyond endurance.</p> +<p>Moreover, there was something peculiarly irritating at the +moment in Ferrier's intervention. There had been increased +Parliamentary friction of late between the two men, in spite of the +intimacy of their personal relations. To be forced to owe fortune, +career, and the permission to marry as he pleased to Ferrier's +influence with his mother was, at this juncture, a bitter pill for +Oliver Marsham.</p> +<p>Ferrier understood him perfectly, and he had never displayed +more kindness or more tact than in the conversation which passed +between them. Marsham finally agreed that Diana must be frankly +informed of his mother's state of mind, and that a waiting policy +offered the only hope. On this they were retiring to the front +drawing-room when Lady Lucy opened the communicating door.</p> +<p>"A letter for you, Oliver."</p> +<p>He took it, and turned it over. The handwriting was unknown to +him.</p> +<p>"Who brought this?" he asked of the butler standing behind his +mother.</p> +<p>"A servant, sir, from Beechcote Manor, He was told to wait for +an answer."</p> +<p>"I will send one. Come when I ring."</p> +<p>The butler departed, and Marsham went hurriedly into the inner +room, closing the door behind him. Ferrier and Lady Lucy were left, +looking at each other in anxiety. But before they could put it into +words, Marsham reappeared, in evident agitation. He hurried to the +bell and rang it.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy pointedly made no inquiry. But Ferrier spoke.</p> +<p>"No bad news, I hope?"</p> +<p>Marsham turned.</p> +<p>"She has been told?" he said, hoarsely, "Mrs. Colwood, her +companion, speaks of 'shock.' I must go down at once."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy said nothing. She, too, had grown white.</p> +<p>The butler appeared. Marsham asked for the Sunday trains, +ordered some packing, went down-stairs to speak to the Beechcote +messenger, and returned.</p> +<p>Ferrier retired into the farthest window, and Marsham approached +his mother.</p> +<p>"Good-bye, mother. I will write to you from Beechcote, where I +shall stay at the little inn in the village. Have you no kind word +that I may carry with me?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy looked at him steadily.</p> +<p>"I shall write myself to Miss Mallory, Oliver."</p> +<p>His pallor gave place to a flush of indignation.</p> +<p>"Is it necessary to do anything so cruel, mother?"</p> +<p>"I shall not write cruelly."</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders impatiently.</p> +<p>"Considering what you have made up your mind to do, I should +have thought least said, soonest mended. However, if you must, you +must. I can only prepare Diana for your letter and soften it when +it comes."</p> +<p>"In your new love, Oliver, have you quite forgotten the old?" +Lady Lucy's voice shook for the first time.</p> +<p>"I shall be only too glad to remember it, when you give me the +opportunity," he said, sombrely.</p> +<p>"I have not been a bad mother to you, Oliver. I have claims upon +you."</p> +<p>He did not reply, and his silence wounded Lady Lucy to the +quick. Was it her fault if her husband, out of an eccentric +distrust of the character of his son, and moved by a kind of +old-fashioned and Spartan belief that a man must endure hardness +before he is fit for luxury, had made her and not Oliver the +arbiter and legatee of his wealth? But Oliver had never wanted for +anything. He had only to ask. What right had she to thwart her +husband's decision?</p> +<p>"Good-bye, mother," said Marsham again. "If you are writing to +Isabel you will, I suppose, discuss the matter with her. She is not +unlikely to side with you--not for your reason, however--but +because of some silly nonsense about politics. If she does, I beg +she will not write to me. It could only embitter matters."</p> +<p>"I will give her your message. Good-bye, Oliver." He left the +room, with a gesture of farewell to Ferrier.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Ferrier came back toward the fire. As he did so he was +struck--painfully struck--by a change in Lady Lucy. She was not +pale, and her eyes were singularly bright. Yet age was, for the +first time, written in a face from which Time had so far taken but +his lightest toll. It moved him strangely; though, as to the matter +in hand, his sympathies were all with Oliver. But through thirty +years Lady Lucy had been the only woman for him. Since first, as a +youth of twenty, he had seen her in her father's house, he had +never wavered. She was his senior by five years, and their first +acquaintance had been one of boy-adoration on his side and a +charming elder-sisterliness on hers. Then he had declared himself, +and she had refused him in order to marry Henry Marsham and Henry +Marsham's fortune. It seemed to him then that he would soon forget +her--soon find a warmer and more generous heart. But that was mere +ignorance of himself. After awhile he became the intimate friend of +her husband, herself, and her child. Something, indeed, had +happened to his affection for her. He felt himself in no danger +beside her, so far as passion was concerned; and he knew very well +that she would have banished him forever at a moment's notice +rather than give her husband an hour's uneasiness. But to be near +her, to be in her world, consulted, trusted, and flattered by her, +to slip daily into his accustomed chair, to feel year by year the +strands of friendship and of intimacy woven more closely between +him and her--between him and hers--these things gradually filled +all the space in his life left by politics or by thought. They +deprived him of any other home, and this home became a +necessity.</p> +<p>Then Henry Marsham died. Once more Ferrier asked Lady Lucy to +marry him, and again she refused. He acquiesced; their old +friendship was resumed; but, once more, with a difference. In a +sense he had no longer any illusions about her. He saw that while +she believed herself to be acting under the influence of religion +and other high matters, she was, in truth, a narrow and rather +cold-hearted woman, with a strong element of worldliness, disguised +in much placid moralizing. At the bottom of his soul he resented +her treatment of him, and despised himself for submitting to it. +But the old habit had become a tyranny not to be broken. Where else +could he go for talk, for intimacy, for rest? And for all his +disillusion there were still at her command occasional felicities +of manner and strains of feeling--ethereally delicate and +spiritual, like a stanza from the <i>Christian Year</i>--that moved +him and pleased his taste as nothing else had power to move and +please; steeped, as they were, in a far-off magic of youth and +memory.</p> +<p>So he stayed by her, and she knew very well that he would stay +by her to the end.</p> +<p>He sat down beside her and took her hand.</p> +<p>"You are tired."</p> +<p>"It has been a miserable day."</p> +<p>"Shall I read to you? It would be wise, I think, to put it out +of your mind for a while, and come back to it fresh."</p> +<p>"It will be difficult to attend." Her smile was faint and sad. +"But I will do my best."</p> +<p>He took up a volume of Dean Church's sermons, and began to read. +Presently, as always, his subtler self became conscious of the +irony of the situation. He was endeavoring to soothe her trouble by +applying to it some of the noblest religious thought of our day, +expressed in the noblest language. Such an attempt implied some +moral correspondence between the message and the listener. Yet all +the time he was conscious himself of cowardice and hypocrisy. What +part of the Christian message really applied to Lady Lucy this +afternoon but the searching words: "He that loveth not his brother +whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?"</p> +<p>Yet he read on. The delicate ascetic face of his companion grew +calmer; he himself felt a certain refreshment and rest. There was +no one else in the world with whom he could sit like this, to whom +he could speak or read of the inner life. Lucy Marsham had made him +what he was, a childless bachelor, with certain memories in his +past life of which he was ashamed--representing the revenge of a +strong man's temperament and physical nature. But in the old age +she had all but reached, and he was approaching, she was still the +one dear and indispensable friend. If she must needs be harsh and +tyrannical--well, he must try and mitigate the effects, for herself +and others. But his utmost effort must restrain itself within +certain limits. He was not at all sure that if offended in some +mortal point, she might not do without him. But so long as they +both lived, he could not do without her.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Early the following morning Alicia Drake appeared in Eaton +Square, and by two o'clock Mrs. Fotheringham was also there. She +had rushed up from Leeds by the first possible train, summoned by +Alicia's letter. Lady Lucy and her daughter held conference, and +Miss Drake was admitted to their counsels.</p> +<p>"Of course, mamma," said Isabel Fotheringham, "I don't at all +agree with you in the matter. Nobody is responsible for their +mothers and fathers. We make ourselves. But I shall not be sorry if +the discovery frees Oliver from a marriage which would have been a +rope round his neck. She is a foolish, arrogant, sentimental girl, +brought up on the most wrong-headed principles, and she could +<i>never</i> have made a decent wife for him. She will, I hope, +have the sense to see it--and he will be well out of it."</p> +<p>"Oliver, at present, is very determined," said Lady Lucy, in a +tone of depression.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, of course, having just proposed to her, he must, of +course, behave like a gentleman--and not like a cad. But she can't +possibly hold him to it. You will write to her, mamma--and so shall +I."</p> +<p>"We shall make him, I fear, very angry."</p> +<p>"Oliver? Well, there are moments in every family when it is no +use shirking. We have to think of Oliver's career, and what he may +do for his party, and for reform. You think he proposed to her in +that walk on the hill?" said Mrs. Fotheringham, turning to her +cousin Alicia.</p> +<p>Alicia woke up from a brown-study of her own. She was dressed +with her usual perfection in a gray cloth, just suggesting the +change of season. Her felt hat with its plume of feathers lay on +her lap, and her hair, slightly loosened by the journey, captured +the eye by its abundance and beauty. The violets on her breast +perfumed the room, and the rings upon her hands flashed just as +much as is permitted to an unmarried girl, and no more. As Mrs. +Fotheringham looked at her, she said to herself: "Another Redfern! +Really Alicia is too extravagant!"</p> +<p>On that head no one could have reproached herself. A cheap coat +and skirt, much worn, a hat of no particular color or shape, frayed +gloves and disreputable boots, proclaimed both the parsimony of her +father's will and the independence of her opinions.</p> +<p>"Oh, of course he proposed on the hill," replied Alicia, +thoughtfully. "And you say, Aunt Lucy, that <i>he</i> guessed--and +she knew nothing? Yes!--I was certain he guessed."</p> +<p>"But she knows now," said Lady Lucy; "and, of course, we must +all be very sorry for her."</p> +<p>"Oh, of course!" said Isabel. "But she will soon get over it. +You won't find it will do her any harm. People will make her a +heroine."</p> +<p>"I should advise her not to go about with that cousin," said +Alicia, softly.</p> +<p>"The girl who told you?"</p> +<p>"She was an outsider! She told me, evidently, to spite her +cousin, who seemed not to have paid her enough attention, and then +wanted me to swear secrecy."</p> +<p>"Well, if her mother was a sister of Juliet Sparling, you can't +expect much, can you? What a mercy it has all come out so soon! The +mess would have been infinitely greater if the engagement had gone +on a few weeks."</p> +<p>"My dear," said her mother, gravely, "we must not reckon upon +Oliver's yielding to our persuasions."</p> +<p>Isabel smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Oliver condemn himself +to the simple life!--to the forfeiture of half a million of +money--for the sake of the <i>beaux yeux</i> of Diana Mallory! +Oliver, who had never faced any hardship or gone without any luxury +in his life!</p> +<p>Alicia said nothing; but the alertness of her brilliant eyes +showed the activity of the brain behind them. While Mrs. +Fotheringham went off to committees, Miss Drake spent the rest of +the day in ministering to Lady Lucy, who found her company, her +gossip about Beechcote, her sympathetic yet restrained attitude +toward the whole matter, quite invaluable. But, in spite of these +aids, the hours of waiting and suspense passed heavily, and Alicia +said to herself that Cousin Lucy was beginning to look frail.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br> +<p>Owing to the scantiness of Sunday trains, Marsham did not arrive +at Beechcote village till between nine and ten at night. He left +his bag at the village inn, tried to ignore the scarcely concealed +astonishment with which the well-known master--or reputed +master--of Tallyn was received within its extremely modest walls, +and walked up to the manor-house. There he had a short conversation +with Mrs. Colwood, who did not propose to tell Diana of his arrival +till the morning.</p> +<p>"She does not know that I wrote to you," said the little lady, +in her pale distress. "She wrote to you herself this evening. I +hope I have not done wrong."</p> +<p>Marsham reassured her, and they had a melancholy consultation. +Diana, it seemed, had insisted on getting up that day as usual. She +had tottered across to her sitting-room and had spent the day there +alone, writing a few letters, or sitting motionless in her chair +for hours together. She had scarcely eaten, and Mrs. Colwood was +sure she had not slept at all since the shock. It was to be hoped +that out of sheer fatigue she might sleep, on this, the second +night. But it was essential there should be no fresh excitement, +such as the knowledge of Marsham's arrival would certainly +arouse.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood could hardly bring herself to speak of Fanny +Merton. She was, of course, still in the house--sulking--and +inclined to blame everybody, her dead uncle in particular, rather +than herself. But, mercifully, she was departing early on the +Monday morning--to some friends in London.</p> +<p>"If you come after breakfast you will find Miss Mallory alone. I +will tell her first thing that you are here."</p> +<p>Marsham assented, and got up to take his leave. Involuntarily he +looked round the drawing-room where he had first seen Diana the day +before. Then it was flooded by spring sunshine--not more radiant +than her face. Now a solitary lamp made a faint spot of light amid +the shadows of the panelled walls. He and Mrs. Colwood spoke almost +in whispers. The old house, generally so winning and sympathetic, +seemed to hold itself silent and aloof--as though in this touch of +calamity the living were no longer its master and the dead +generations woke. And, up-stairs, Diana lay perhaps in her white +bed, miserable and alone, not knowing that he was there, within a +few yards of her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood noiselessly opened a garden door and so dismissed +him. It was moonlight outside, and instead of returning to the inn +he took the road up the hill to the crest of the encircling down. +Diverging a little to the left, he found himself on the open +hill-side, at a point commanding the village and Beechcote itself, +ringed by its ancient woods. In the village two dim lights, far +apart, were visible; lights, he thought, of sickness or of +birth?--for the poor sleep early. One of the Beechcote windows +shone with a dim illumination. Was she there, and sleepless? The +sky was full of light; the blanched chalk down on which he stood +ran northward in a shining curve, bare in the moon; but in the +hollow below, and on the horizon, the dark huddled woods kept +watch, guarding the secrets of night. The owls were calling in the +trees behind him--some in faint prolonged cry, one in a sharp +shrieking note. And at whiles a train rushed upon the ear, held it, +and died away; or a breeze crept among the dead beech leaves at his +feet. Otherwise not a sound or show of life; Marsham was alone with +night and himself.</p> +<p>Twenty-four hours--little more--since on that same hill-side he +had held Diana in his arms in the first rapture of love. What was +it that had changed? How was it--for he was frank with +himself--that the love which had been then the top and completion +of his life, the angel of all good-fortune within and without, had +become now, to some extent, a burden to be borne, an obligation to +be met?</p> +<p>Certainly, he loved her well. But she came to him now, bringing +as her marriage portion, not easy joy and success, the full years +of prosperity and ambition, but poverty, effort, a certain measure +of disgrace, and the perpetual presence of a ghastly and +heart-breaking memory. He shrank from this last in a positive and +sharp impatience. Why should Juliet Sparling's crime affect +him?--depress the vigor and cheerfulness of his life?</p> +<p>As to the effort before him, he felt toward it as a man of weak +unpractised muscle who endeavors with straining to raise a physical +weight. He would make the effort, but it would tax his whole +strength. As he strolled along the down, dismally smoking and +pondering, he made himself contemplate the then and now--taking +stock, as it were, of his life. In this truth-compelling darkness, +apart from the stimulus of his mother's tyranny, he felt himself to +be two men: one in love with Diana, the other in love with success +and political ambition, and money as the agent and servant of both. +He had never for one moment envisaged the first love--Diana--as the +alternative to, or substitute for the second love--success. As he +had conceived her up to twenty-four hours before, Diana was to be, +indeed, one of the chief elements and ministers of success. In +winning her, he was, in fact, to make the best of both worlds. A +certain cool analytic gift that he possessed put all this plainly +before him. And now it must be a choice between Diana and all those +other desirable things.</p> +<p>Take the poverty first. What would it amount to? He knew +approximately what was Diana's fortune. He had meant--with easy +generosity--to leave it all in her hands, to do what she would +with. Now, until his mother came to her senses, they must chiefly +depend upon it. What could he add to it? He had been called to the +Bar, but had never practised. Directorships no doubt, he might get, +like other men; though not so easily now, if it was to be known +that his mother meant to make a pauper of him. And once a man whom +he had met in political life, who was no doubt ignorant of his +private circumstances, had sounded him as to whether he would +become the London correspondent of a great American paper. He had +laughed then, good-humoredly, at the proposal. Perhaps the thing +might still be open. It would mean a few extra hundreds.</p> +<p>He laughed again as he thought of it, but not good-humoredly. +The whole thing was so monstrous! His mother had close on twenty +thousand a year! For all her puritanical training she liked +luxury--of a certain kind--and had brought up her son in it. +Marsham had never gambled or speculated or raced. It was part of +his democratic creed and his Quaker Ancestry to despise such modes +of wasting money, and to be scornful of the men who indulged in +them. But the best of housing, service, and clothes; the best +shooting, whether in England or Scotland; the best golfing, +fishing, and travelling: all these had come to him year after year +since his boyhood, without question. His mother, of course, had +provided the majority of them, for his own small income and his +allowance from her were absorbed by his personal expenses, his +Parliamentary life, and the subscriptions to the party, which--in +addition to his mother's--made him, as he was well aware, a person +of importance in its ranks, quite apart from his record in the +House.</p> +<p>Now all that must be given up. He would be reduced to an +income--including what he imagined to be Diana's--of less than half +his personal spending hitherto; and those vast perspectives implied +in the inheritance at his mother's death of his father's half +million must also be renounced.</p> +<p>No doubt he could just maintain himself in Parliament. But +everything--judged by the standards he had been brought up +in--would be difficult where everything till now had been ease.</p> +<p>He knew his mother too well to doubt her stubbornness, and his +feeling was bitter, indeed. Bitter, too, against his father, who +had left him in this plight. Why had his father distrusted and +wronged him so? He recalled with discomfort certain collisions of +his youth; certain disappointments at school and college he had +inflicted on his father's ambition; certain lectures and gibes from +that strong mouth, in his early manhood. Absurd! If his father had +had to do with a really spendthrift and unsatisfactory son, there +might have been some sense in it. But for these trifles--these +suspicions--these foolish notions of a doctrinaire--to inflict this +stigma and this yoke on him all his days!</p> +<p>Suddenly his wanderings along the moon-lit hill came to a +stand-still. For he recognized the hollow in the chalk--the gnarled +thorn--the wide outlook. He stood gazing about him--a shamed lover; +conscious of a dozen contradictory feelings. Beautiful and tender +Diana!--"Stick to her, Oliver!--she is worth it!" Chide's eager and +peremptory tone smote on the inward ear. Of course he would stick +to her. The only thing which it gave him any pleasure to remember +in this nightmare of a day was his own answer to Ferrier's +suggestion that Diana might release him: "Do you imagine I could be +such a hound as to let her?" As he said it, he had been conscious +that the words rang well; that he had struck the right attitude, +and done the right thing. Of course he had done the right thing! +What would he, or any other decent person, have thought of a man +who could draw back from his word, for such a cause?</p> +<p>No!--he resigned himself. He would do nothing mean and +ungentlemanly. A policy of waiting and diplomacy should be tried. +Ferrier might be of some use. But, if nothing availed, he must +marry and make the best of it. He wondered to what charitable +societies his mother would leave her money!</p> +<p>Slowly he strolled back along the hill. That dim light, high up +on the shrouded walls of Beechcote, seemed to go with him, softly, +insistently reminding him of Diana. The thought of her moved him +deeply. He longed to have her in his arms, to comfort her, to feel +her dependent on him for the recovery of joy and vitality. It was +only by an obstinate and eager dwelling upon her sweetness and +charm that he could protect himself against the rise of an invading +wave of repugnance and depression; the same repugnance, the same +instinctive longing to escape, which he had always felt, as boy or +man, in the presence of sickness, or death, or mourning.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marsham had been long asleep in his queer little room at "The +Green Man." The last lights were out in the village, and the moon +had set. Diana stole out of bed; Muriel must not hear her, Muriel +whose eyes were already so tired and tear-worn with another's +grief. She went to the window, and, throwing a shawl over her, she +knelt there, looking out. She was dimly conscious of stars, of the +hill, the woods; what she really <i>saw</i> was a prison room as +she was able to imagine it, and her mother lying there--her young +mother--only four years older than she, Diana, was now. Or again +she saw the court of law--the judge in the black cap--and her +mother looking up. Fanny had said she was small and slight--with +dark hair.</p> +<p>The strange frozen horror of it made tears--or sleep--or +rest--impossible. She did not think much of Marsham; she could +hardly remember what she had written to him. Love was only another +anguish. Nor could it protect her from the images which pursued +her. The only thought which seemed to soothe the torture of +imagination was the thought stamped on her brain tissue by the long +inheritance of centuries--the thought of Christ on Calvary. "My +God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" The words repeated +themselves again and again. She did not pray in words. But her +agony crept to the foot of what has become through the action and +interaction of two thousand years, the typical and representative +agony of the world, and, clinging there, made wild appeal, like the +generations before her, to a God in whose hand lie the creatures of +His will.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Mrs. Colwood said I might come and say good-bye to you," said +Fanny Merton, holding her head high.</p> +<p>She stood on the threshold of Diana's little sitting-room, +looking in. There was an injured pride in her bearing, balanced by +a certain anxiety which seemed to keep it within bounds.</p> +<p>"Please come in," said Diana.</p> +<p>She rose with difficulty from the table where she was forcing +herself to write a letter. Had she followed her own will she would +have been up at her usual time and down to breakfast. But she had +turned faint while dressing, and Mrs. Colwood had persuaded her to +let some tea be brought up-stairs.</p> +<p>Fanny came in, half closing the door.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm off," she said, flushing. "I dare say you won't want +to see <i>me</i> again."</p> +<p>Diana came feebly forward, clinging to the chairs.</p> +<p>"It wasn't your fault. I must have known--some time."</p> +<p>Fanny looked at her uneasily.</p> +<p>"Well, of course, that's true. But I dare say I--well I'm no +good at beating about the bush, never was! And I was in a temper, +too--that was at the bottom of it."</p> +<p>Diana made no reply. Her eyes, magnified by exhaustion and +pallor, seemed to be keeping a pitiful shrinking watch lest she +should be hurt again--past bearing. It was like the shrinking of a +child that has been tortured, from its tormentor.</p> +<p>"You are going to London?"</p> +<p>"Yes. You remember those Devonshire people I went to stay with? +One of the girls is up in London with her aunt. I'm going to board +with them a bit."</p> +<p>"My lawyers will send the thousand pounds to Aunt Merton when +they have arranged for it," said Diana, quietly. "Is that what you +wish?"</p> +<p>A look of relief she could not conceal slipped into Fanny's +countenance.</p> +<p>"You're going to give it us--after all?" she said, stumbling +over the words.</p> +<p>"I promised to give it you."</p> +<p>Fanny fidgeted, but even her perceptions told her that further +thanks would be out of place.</p> +<p>"Mother'll write to you, of course. And you'd better send fifty +pounds of it to me. I can't go home under three months, and I shall +run short."</p> +<p>"Very well," said Diana.</p> +<p>"Good-bye," said Fanny, coming a little nearer. Then she looked +round her, with a first genuine impulse of something like +remorse--if the word is not too strong. It was rather, perhaps, a +consciousness of having managed her opportunities extremely badly. +"I'm sorry you didn't like me." she said, abruptly, "and I didn't +mean to be nasty."</p> +<p>"Good-bye." Diana held out her hand; yet trembling involuntarily +as she did so. Fanny broke out:</p> +<p>"Diana, why do you look like that? It's all so long ago--you +can't do anything--you ought to try and forget it."</p> +<p>"No, I can't do anything," said Diana, withdrawing her right +hand from her cousin, and clasping both on her breast. "I can +only--"</p> +<p>But the word died on her lips; she turned abruptly away, adding, +hurriedly, in another tone: "If you ever want anything, you know +we're always here--Mrs. Colwood and I. Please give us your +address."</p> +<p>"Thanks." Fanny retreated; but could not forbear, as she reached +the door, from letting loose the thought which burned her inner +mind. She turned round deliberately. "Mr. Marsham'll cheer you up, +Diana!--you'll see. Of course, he'll behave like a gentleman. It +won't make a bit of difference to you. I'll just ask Mrs. Colwood +to tell me when it's all fixed up."</p> +<p>Diana said nothing. She was hanging over the fire, and her face +was hidden. Fanny waited a moment, then opened the door and +went.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>As soon as the carriage conveying Miss Merton to the station had +safely driven off, Mrs. Colwood, who, in no conventional sense, had +been speeding the parting guest, ran up-stairs again to Diana's +room.</p> +<p>"She's gone?" said Diana, faintly. She was standing by the +window. As she spoke the carriage came into view at a bend of the +drive and disappeared into the trees beyond. Mrs. Colwood saw her +shiver.</p> +<p>"Did she leave you her address?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Don't think any more about her. I have something to tell +you."</p> +<p>Diana's painful start was the measure of her state. Muriel +Colwood put her arms tenderly round the slight form.</p> +<p>"Mr. Marsham will be here directly. He came last night--too +late--I would not let him see you. Ah!" She released Diana, and +made a rapid step to the window. "There he is!--coming by the +fields."</p> +<p>Diana sat down, as though her limbs trembled under her.</p> +<p>"Did you send for him?"</p> +<p>"Yes. You forgive me?"</p> +<p>"Then--he hasn't got my letter."</p> +<p>She said it without looking up, as though to herself.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood knelt down beside her.</p> +<p>"It is right he should be here," she said, with energy, almost +with command; "it is the right, natural thing."</p> +<p>Diana stooped, mechanically, and kissed her; then sprang up, +quivering, the color rushing into her cheeks. "Why, he mayn't even +know!" She threw a piteous look at her companion.</p> +<p>"He does know, dear--he does know."</p> +<p>Diana composed herself. She lifted her hands to a tress of hair +that was unfastened, and put it in its place. Instinctively she +straightened her belt, her white collar. Mrs. Colwood noticed that +she was in black again, in one of the dresses of her mourning.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When Marsham turned, at the sound of the latch, to see Diana +coming in, all the man's secret calculations and revolts were for +the moment scattered and drowned in sheer pity and dismay. In a few +short hours can grief so work on youth? He ran to her, but she held +up a hand which arrested him half-way. Then she closed the door, +but still stood near it, as though she feared to move, or speak, +looking at him with her appealing eyes.</p> +<p>"Oliver!"</p> +<p>He held out his hands.</p> +<p>"My poor, poor darling!"</p> +<p>She gave a little cry, as though some tension broke. Her lips +almost smiled; but she held him away from her.</p> +<p>"You're not--not ashamed of me?"</p> +<p>His protests were the natural, the inevitable protests that any +man with red blood in his veins must need have uttered, brought +face to face with so much sorrow and so much beauty. She let him +make them, while her left hand gently stroked and caressed his +right hand which held hers; yet all the time resolutely turning her +face and her soft breast away, as though she dreaded to be kissed, +to lose will and identity in the mere delight of his touch. And he +felt, too, in some strange way, as though the blow that had fallen +upon her had placed her at a distance from him; not disgraced--but +consecrate.</p> +<p>"Will you please sit down and let us talk?" she said, after a +moment, withdrawing herself.</p> +<p>She pushed a chair forward, and sat down herself. The tears were +in her eyes, but she brushed them away unconsciously.</p> +<p>"If papa had told me!" she said, in a low voice--"if he had only +told me--before he died."</p> +<p>"It was out of love," said Marsham; "but yes--it would have been +wiser--kinder--to have spoken."</p> +<p>She started.</p> +<p>"Oh no--not that. But we might have sorrowed--together. And he +was always alone--he bore it all alone--even when he was +dying."</p> +<p>"But you, dearest, shall not bear it alone!" cried Marsham, +finding her hand again and kissing it. "My first task shall be to +comfort you--to make you forget."</p> +<p>He thought she winced at the word "forget."</p> +<p>"When did you first guess--or know?"</p> +<p>He hesitated--then thought it best to tell the truth.</p> +<p>"When we were in the lime-walk."</p> +<p>"When you asked--her name? I remember"--her voice broke--"how +you wrung my hand! And you never had any suspicion before?"</p> +<p>"Never. And it makes no difference, Diana--to you and me--none. +I want you to understand that now--at once."</p> +<p>She looked at him, smiling tremulously. His words became him; +even in her sorrow her eyes delighted in his shrewd thin face; in +the fair hair, prematurely touched with gray, and lying heavily on +the broad brow; in the intelligence and distinction of his whole +aspect.</p> +<p>"You are so good to me--" she said, with a little sob. +"No--no!--please, dear Oliver!--we have so much to talk of." And +again she prevented him from taking her in his arms. "Tell me"--she +laid her hand on his persuasively: "Sir James, of course, knew from +the beginning?"</p> +<p>"Yes--from the beginning--that first night at Tallyn. He is +coming down this afternoon, dearest. He knew you would want to see +him. But it may not be till late."</p> +<p>"After all, I know so little yet," she said, bewildered. +"Only--only what Fanny told me."</p> +<p>"What made her tell you?"</p> +<p>"She was angry with me--I forget about what. I did not +understand at first what she was saying. Oliver"--she grasped his +hand tightly, while the lids dropped over the eyes, as though she +would shut out even his face as she asked her question--"is it true +that--that--the death sentence--"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Marsham, reluctantly. "But it was at once commuted. +And three weeks after the sentence she was released. She lived, Sir +James tells me, nearly two months after your father brought her +home."</p> +<p>"I wrote last night to the lawyers"--Diana breathed it almost in +a whisper. "I am sure there is a letter for me--I am sure papa +wrote."</p> +<p>"Promise me one thing!" said Marsham. "If they send you +newspapers--for my sake, don't read them. Sir James will tell you, +this afternoon, things the public have never known--facts which +would certainly have altered the verdict if the jury had known. +Your poor mother struck the blow in what was practically an impulse +of self-defence, and the evidence which mainly convicted her was +perjured evidence, as the liar who gave it confessed years +afterward. Sir James will tell you that. He has the +confession."</p> +<p>Her face relaxed, her mouth trembled violently.</p> +<p>"Oh, Oliver!--Oliver!" She was unable to bear the relief his +words brought her: she broke down under it.</p> +<p>He caught her in his arms at last, and she gave way--she let +herself be weak--and woman. Clinging to him with all the pure +passion of a woman and all the trust of a child, she felt his +kisses on her cheek, and her deep sobs shook her upon his breast. +Marsham's being was stirred to its depths. He gave her the best he +had to give; and in that moment of mortal appeal on her side and +desperate pity on his, their natures met in that fusion of spirit +and desire wherewith love can lend even tragedy and pain to its own +uses.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>And yet--and yet!--was it in that very moment that feeling--on +the man's side--"o'erleaped itself, and fell on the other"? When +they resumed conversation, Marsham's tacit expectation was that +Diana would now show herself comforted; that, sure of him and of +his affection, she would now be ready to put the tragic past aside; +to think first and foremost of her own present life and his, and +face the future cheerfully. A misunderstanding arose between them, +indeed, which is, perhaps, one of the typical misunderstandings +between men and women. The man, impatient of painful thoughts and +recollections, eager to be quit of them as weakening and +unprofitable, determined to silence them by the pleasant clamor of +his own ambitions and desires; the woman, priestess of the past, +clinging to all the pieties of memory, in terror lest she forget +the dead, feeling it a disloyalty even to draw the dagger from the +wound--between these two figures and dispositions there is a deep +and natural antagonism.</p> +<p>It showed itself rapidly in the case of Marsham and Diana; for +their moment of high feeling was no sooner over, and she sitting +quietly again, her hand in his, the blinding tears dashed away, +than Marsham's mind flew inevitably to his own great sacrifice. She +must be comforted, indeed, poor child! yet he could not but feel +that he, too, deserved consolation, and that his own most actual +plight was no less worthy of her thoughts than the ghastly details +of a tragedy twenty years old.</p> +<p>Yet she seemed to have forgotten Lady Lucy!--to have no inkling +of the real situation. And he could find no way in which to break +it.</p> +<p>For, in little broken sentences of horror and recollection, she +kept going back to her mother's story--her father's silence and +suffering. It was as though her mind could not disentangle itself +from the load which had been flung upon it--could not recover its +healthiness of action amid the phantom sights and sounds which +beset imagination. Again and again she must ask him for +details--and shrink from the answers; must hide her eyes with the +little moan that wrung his heart; and break out in ejaculations, as +though of bewilderment, under a revelation so singular and so +terrible.</p> +<p>It was to be expected, of course; he could only hope it would +soon pass. Secretly, after a time, he was repelled and wearied. He +answered her with the same tender words, he tried to be all +kindness; but more perfunctorily. The oneness of that supreme +moment vanished and did not return.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Diana's perceptions, stunned by the one overmastering +thought, gave her no warning. And, in truth, if Marsham could have +understood, the process of mental recovery was set going in her by +just this freedom of utterance to the man she loved--these words +and looks and tears--that brought ease after the dumb horror of the +first hours.</p> +<p>At last he made an effort, hiding the nascent impatience in a +caress.</p> +<p>"If I could only persuade you not to dwell upon it too +persistently--to put it from your thoughts as soon and as much as +you can! Dear, we shall have our own anxieties!"</p> +<p>She looked up with a sudden start.</p> +<p>"My mother," he said, reluctantly, "may give us trouble."</p> +<p>The color rushed into Diana's cheeks, and ebbed with equal +suddenness.</p> +<p>"Lady Lucy! Oh!--how could I forget? Oliver!--she thinks--I am +not fit!"</p> +<p>And in her eyes he saw for the first time the self-abasement he +had dreaded, yet perhaps expected, to see there before. For in her +first question to him there had been no real doubt of him; it had +been the natural humility of wounded love that cries out, expecting +the reply that no power on earth could check itself from giving +were the case reversed.</p> +<p>"Dearest! you know my mother's bringing up: her Quaker training, +and her rather stern ideas. We shall persuade her--in time."</p> +<p>"In time? And now--she--she forbids it?"</p> +<p>Her voice faltered. And yet, unconsciously, she had drawn +herself a little together and away.</p> +<p>Marsham began to give a somewhat confused and yet guarded +account of his mother's state of mind, endeavoring to prepare her +for the letter which might arrive on the morrow. He got up and +moved about the room as he spoke, while Diana sat, looking at him, +her lips trembling from time to time. Presently he mentioned +Ferrier's name, and Diana started.</p> +<p>"Does <i>he</i> think it would do you harm--that you ought to +give me up?"</p> +<p>"Not he! And if anybody can make my mother hear reason, it will +be Ferrier."</p> +<p>"Lady Lucy believes it would injure you in Parliament?" faltered +Diana.</p> +<p>"No, I don't believe she does. No sane person could."</p> +<p>"Then it's because--of the disgrace? Oliver!--perhaps--you ought +to give me up?"</p> +<p>She breathed quick. It stabbed him to see the flush in her +cheeks contending with the misery in her eyes. She could not pose, +or play a part. What she could not hide from him was just the +conflict between her love and her new-born shame. Before that scene +on the hill there would have been her girlish dignity also to +reckon with. But the greater had swallowed up the less; and from +her own love--in innocent and simple faith--she imagined his.</p> +<p>So that when she spoke of his giving her up, it was not her +pride that spoke, but only and truly her fear of doing him a +hurt--by which she meant a hurt in public estimation or repute. The +whole business side of the matter was unknown to her. She had never +speculated on his circumstances, and she was constitutionally and +rather proudly indifferent to questions of money. Vaguely, of +course, she knew that the Marshams were rich and that Tallyn was +Lady Lucy's. Beyond, she had never inquired.</p> +<p>This absence of all self-love in her attitude--together with her +complete ignorance of the calculation in which she was +involved--touched him sharply. It kept him silent about the money; +it seemed impossible to speak of it. And yet all the time the +thought of it clamored--perhaps increasingly--in his own mind.</p> +<p>He told her that they must stand firm--that she must be +patient--that Ferrier would work for them--and Lady Lucy would come +round. And she, loving him more and more with every word, seeing in +him a god of consolation and of chivalry, trusted him wholly. It +was characteristic of her that she did not attempt heroics for the +heroics' sake; there was no idea of renouncing him with a flourish +of trumpets. He said he loved her, and she believed him. But her +heart went on its knees to him in a gratitude that doubled love, +even in the midst of her aching bewilderment and pain.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He made her come out with him before luncheon; he talked with +her of politics and their future; he did his best to scatter the +nightmare in which she moved.</p> +<p>But after awhile he felt his efforts fail. The scenes that held +her mind betrayed themselves in her recurrent pallor, the trembling +of her hand in his, her piteous, sudden looks. She did not talk of +her mother, but he could not presently rouse her to talk of +anything else; she sat silent in her chair, gazing before her, her +slender hands on her knee, dreaming and forlorn.</p> +<p>Then he remembered, and with involuntary relief, that he must +get back to town, and to the House, for an important division. He +told her, and she made no protest. Evidently she was already +absorbed in the thought of Sir James Chide's visit. But when the +time came for him to go she let herself be kissed, and then, as he +was moving away, she caught his hand, and held it wildly to her +lips.</p> +<p>"Oh, if you hadn't come!--if you hadn't come!" Her tears fell on +the hand.</p> +<p>"But I did come!" he said, caressing her. "I was here last +night--did Mrs. Colwood tell you? Afterward--in the dark--I walked +up to the hill, only to look down upon this house, that held +you."</p> +<p>"If I had known," she murmured, on his breast, "I should have +slept."</p> +<p>He went--in exaltation; overwhelmed by her charm even in this +eclipse of grief, and by the perception of her passion.</p> +<p>But before he was half-way to London he felt that he had been +rather foolish and quixotic in not having told her simply and +practically what his mother's opposition meant. She must learn it +some day; better from him than others. His mother, indeed, might +tell her in the letter she had threatened to write. But he thought +not. Nobody was more loftily secret as to business affairs than +Lady Lucy; money might not have existed for the rare mention she +made of it. No; she would base her opposition on other grounds.</p> +<p>These reflections brought him back to earth, and to the gloomy +pondering of the situation. Half a million!--because of the +ill-doing of a poor neurotic woman--twenty years ago!</p> +<p>It filled him with a curious resentment against Juliet Sparling +herself, which left him still more out of sympathy with Diana's +horror and grief. It must really be understood, when they married, +that Mrs. Sparling's name was never to be mentioned between +them--that the whole grimy business was buried out of sight +forever.</p> +<p>And with a great and morbid impatience he shook the recollection +from him. The bustle of Whitehall, as he drove down it, was like +wine in his veins; the crowd and the gossip of the Central Lobby, +as he pressed his way through to the door of the House of Commons, +had never been so full of stimulus or savor. In this agreeable, +exciting world he knew his place; the relief was enormous; and, for +a time, Marsham was himself again.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Sir James Chide came in the late afternoon; and in her two hours +with him, Diana learned, from lips that spared her all they could, +the heart-breaking story of which Fanny had given her but the +crudest outlines.</p> +<p>The full story, and its telling, taxed the courage both of +hearer and speaker. Diana bore it, as it seemed to Sir James, with +the piteous simplicity of one in whose nature grief had no +pretences to overcome. The iron entered into her soul, and her +quick imagination made her torment. But her father had taught her +lessons of self-conquest, and in this first testing of her youth +she did not fail. Sir James was astonished at the quiet she was +able to maintain, and touched to the heart by the suffering she +could not conceal.</p> +<p>Nothing was said of his own relation to her mother's case; but +he saw that she understood it, and their hearts moved together. +When he rose to take his leave she held his hand in hers with such +a look in her eyes as a daughter might have worn; and he, with an +emotion to which he gave little outward expression, vowed to +himself that henceforward she should lack no fatherly help or +counsel that he could give her.</p> +<p>He gathered, with relief, that the engagement persisted, and the +perception led him to praise Marsham in a warm Irish way. But he +could not find anything hopeful to say of Lady Lucy. "If you only +hold to each other, my dear young lady, things will come right!" +Diana flushed and shrank a little, and he felt--helplessly--that +the battle was for their fighting, and not his.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, as he had seen Mr. Riley, he did his best to prepare +her for the letters and enclosures, which had been for twenty years +in the custody of the firm, and would reach her on the morrow.</p> +<p>But what he did not prepare her for was the letter from Lady +Lucy Marsham which reached Beechcote by the evening post, after Sir +James had left.</p> +<p>The letter lay awhile on Diana's knee, unopened. Muriel Colwood, +glancing at her, went away with the tears in her eyes, and at last +the stumbling fingers broke the seal.</p> +<blockquote>"MY DEAR MISS MALLORY,--I want you to understand why it +is that I must oppose your marriage with my son. You know well, I +think, how gladly I should have welcomed you as a daughter but for +this terrible revelation. As it is, I cannot consent to the +engagement, and if it is carried out Oliver must renounce the +inheritance of his father's fortune. I do not say this as any +vulgar threat. It is simply that I cannot allow my husband's wealth +to be used in furthering what he would never have permitted. He +had--and so have I--the strongest feeling as to the sacredness of +the family and its traditions. He held, as I do, that it ought to +be founded in mutual respect and honor, and that children should +have round about them the help that comes from the memory of +unstained and God-fearing ancestors. Do you not also feel this? Is +it not a great principle, to which personal happiness and +gratification may justly be sacrificed? And would not such a +sacrifice bring with it the highest happiness of all?<br> +<br> +"Do not think that I am cruel or hard-hearted. I grieve for you +with all my soul, and I have prayed for you earnestly, though, +perhaps, you will consider this mere hypocrisy. But I must first +think of my son--and of my husband. Very possibly you and Oliver +may disregard what I say. But if so, I warn you that Oliver is not +indifferent to money, simply because the full development of his +career depends on it. He will regret what he has done, and your +mutual happiness will be endangered. Moreover, he shrinks from all +painful thoughts and associations; he seems to have no power to +bear them; yet how can you protect him from them?<br> +<br> +"I beg you to be counselled in time, to think of him rather than +yourself--if, indeed, you care for him. And should you decide +rightly, an old woman's love and gratitude will be yours as long as +she lives.<br> +<br> +"Believe me, dear Miss Mallory, very sincerely yours,<br> +<br> +"LUCY MARSHAM."</blockquote> +<p>Diana dragged herself up-stairs and locked her door. At ten +o'clock Mrs. Colwood knocked, and heard a low voice asking to be +left alone. She went away wondering, in her astonishment and +terror, what new blow had fallen. No sound reached her during the +night--except the bluster of a north wind rushing in great gusts +upon the hill-side and the woods.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br> +<p>Late on Monday afternoon Lady Niton paid a call in Eaton Square. +She and Lady Lucy were very old friends, and rarely passed a week +when they were both in town without seeing each other.</p> +<p>Mr. Ferrier lunched with her on Monday, and casually remarked +that Lady Lucy was not as well as usual. Lady Niton replied that +she would look her up that afternoon; and she added: "And what +about that procrastinating fellow Oliver? Is he engaged yet?"</p> +<p>"Not to my knowledge," said Mr. Ferrier, after a pause.</p> +<p>"Then he ought to be! What on earth is he shilly-shallying for? +In my days young men had proper blood in their veins."</p> +<p>Ferrier did not pursue the subject, and Lady Niton at once +jumped to the conclusion that something had happened. By five +o'clock she was in Eaton Square.</p> +<p>Only Alicia Drake was in the drawing-room when she was +announced.</p> +<p>"I hear Lucy's seedy," said the old lady, abruptly, after +vouchsafing a couple of fingers to Miss Drake. "I suppose she's +been starving herself, as usual?"</p> +<p>Oliver's mother enjoyed an appetite as fastidious as her +judgments on men and morals, and Lady Niton had a running quarrel +with her on the subject.</p> +<p>Alicia replied that it had been, indeed, unusually difficult of +late to persuade Lady Lucy to eat.</p> +<p>"The less you eat the less you may eat," said Lady Niton, with +vigor. "The stomach contracts unless you give it something to do. +That's what's the matter with Lucy, my dear--though, of course, I +never dare name the organ. But I suppose she's been worrying +herself about something?"</p> +<p>"I am afraid she has."</p> +<p>"Is Oliver engaged?" asked Lady Niton, suddenly, observing the +young lady.</p> +<p>Alicia replied demurely that that question had perhaps better be +addressed to Lady Lucy.</p> +<p>"What's the matter? Can't the young people make up their minds? +Do they want Lucy to make them up for them?"</p> +<p>Alicia looked at her companion a little under her brows, and did +not reply. Lady Niton was so piqued by the girl's expression that +she immediately threw herself on the mystery she divined--tearing +and scratching at it, like a dog in a rabbit-hole. And very soon +she had dragged it to the light. Miss Drake merely remarked that it +was very sad, but it appeared that Miss Mallory was not really a +Mallory at all, but the daughter of a certain Mrs. Sparling--Juliet +Sparling, who--"</p> +<p>"Juliet Sparling!" cried Lady Niton, her queer small eyes +starting in their sockets. "My dear, you must be mad!"</p> +<p>Alicia smiled, though gravely. She was afraid Lady Niton would +find that what she said was true.</p> +<p>A cross-examination followed, after which Lady Niton sat +speechless for a while. She took a fan out of her large reticule +and fanned herself, a proceeding by which she often protested +against the temperature at which Lady Lucy kept her drawing-room. +She then asked for a window to be opened, and when she had been +sufficiently oxygenated she delivered herself:</p> +<p>"Well, and why not? We really didn't have the picking and +choosing of our mothers or fathers, though Lucy always behaves as +though we had--to the fourth generation. Besides, I always took the +side of that poor creature, and Lucy believed the worst--as usual. +Well, and so she's going to make Oliver back out of it?"</p> +<p>At this point the door opened, and Lady Lucy glided in, clad in +a frail majesty which would have overawed any one but Elizabeth +Niton. Alicia discreetly disappeared, and Lady Niton, after an +inquiry as to her friend's health--delivered, as it were, at the +point of the bayonet, and followed by a flying remark on the +absurdity of treating your body as if it were only given you to be +harried--plunged headlong into the great topic. What an amazing +business! Now at last one would see what Oliver was made of!</p> +<p>Lady Lucy summoned all her dignity, expounded her view, and +entirely declined to be laughed or rated out of it. For Elizabeth +Niton, her wig much awry, her old eyes and cheeks blazing, took up +the cause of Diana with alternate sarcasm and eloquence. As for the +social disrepute--stuff! All that was wanting to such a beautiful +creature as Diana Mallory was a story and a scandal. Positively she +would be the rage, and Oliver's fortune was made.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy sat in pale endurance, throwing in an occasional +protest, not budging by one inch--and no doubt reminding herself +from time to time, in the intervals of her old friend's attacks, of +the letter she had just despatched to Beechcote--until, at last, +Lady Niton, having worked herself up into a fine frenzy to no +purpose at all, thought it was time to depart.</p> +<p>"Well, my dear," she said, leaning on her stick, the queerest +rag-bag of a figure--crooked wig, rusty black dress, and an +unspeakable bonnet--"you are a saint, of course, and I am a +quarrelsome old sinner; I like society, and you, I believe, regard +it as a grove of barren fig-trees. I don't care a rap for my +neighbor if he doesn't amuse me, and you live in a puddle of good +works. But, upon my word, I wouldn't be you when it comes to the +sheep and the goats business! Here is a young girl, sweet and good +and beautifully brought up--money and manners and everything +handsome about her--she is in love with Oliver, and he with +her--and just because you happen to find out that she is the +daughter of a poor creature who made a tragic mess of her life, and +suffered for it infinitely more than you and I are ever likely to +suffer for our intolerably respectable peccadilloes--you will break +her heart and his--if he's the good-luck to have one!--and there +you sit, looking like a suffering angel, and expecting all your old +friends, I suppose, to pity and admire you. Well, I won't, Lucy!--I +won't! That's flat. There's my hand. Good-bye!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy took it patiently, though from no other person in the +world save Elizabeth Niton would she have so taken it.</p> +<p>"I thought, Elizabeth, you would have tried to understand +me."</p> +<p>Elizabeth Niton shook her head.</p> +<p>"There's only your Maker could do that, Lucy. And He must be +pretty puzzled to account for you sometimes. Good-bye. I thought +Alicia looked uncommonly cheerful!"</p> +<p>This last remark was delivered as a parting shot as Lady Niton +hobbled to the door. She could not, however, resist pausing to see +its effect. Lady Lucy turned indignantly.</p> +<p>"I don't know what you mean by that remark. Alicia has behaved +with great kindness and tact!"</p> +<p>"I dare say! We're all darlings when we get our way. What does +Ferrier say?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy hesitated.</p> +<p>"If my old friends cannot see it as I do--if they blame me--I am +very sorry. But it is my responsibility."</p> +<p>"A precious good thing, my dear, for everybody else! But as far +as I can make out, they <i>are</i> engaged?"</p> +<p>"Nothing is settled," said Lady Lucy, hastily; "and I need not +say, Elizabeth, that if you have any affection for us--or any +consideration for Miss Mallory--you will not breathe a word of this +most sad business to anybody."</p> +<p>"Well, for Oliver's sake, if he doesn't intend to behave like a +man, I do certainly hope it may be kept dark!" cried Lady Niton. +"For if he does desert her, under such circumstances, I suppose you +know that a great many people will be inclined to cut him? I shall +hold my tongue. But, of course, it will come out."</p> +<p>With which final shaft she departed, leaving Lady Lucy a little +uneasy. She mentioned Elizabeth Niton's "foolish remark" to Mrs. +Fotheringham in the course of the evening. Isabel Fotheringham +laughed it to scorn.</p> +<p>"You may be quite sure there will be plenty of ill-natured talk +either way, whether Oliver gives her up or doesn't. The real thing +to bear in mind is that if Oliver yields to your wishes, mamma--as +you certainly deserve that he should, after all you have done for +him--he will be delivered from an ignorant and reactionary wife who +might have spoiled his career. I like to call a spade a spade. +Oliver belongs to his <i>party</i>, and his party have a right to +count upon him. He has no right to jeopardize either his opinions +or his money; <i>we</i> have a claim on both."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy gave an unconscious sigh. She was glad of any +arguments, from anybody, that offered her support. But it did occur +to her that if Diana Mallory had not shown a weakness for the +soldiers of her country, and if her heart had been right on Women's +Suffrage, Isabel would have judged her case differently; so that +her approval was not worth all it might have been.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, in the House of Commons, Isabel Fotheringham's +arguments was being put in other forms.</p> +<p>On the Tuesday morning Marsham went down to the House, for a +Committee, in a curious mood--half love, half martyrdom. The +thought of Diana was very sweet; it warmed and thrilled his heart. +But somehow, with every hour, he realized more fully what a +magnificent thing he was doing, and how serious was his +position.</p> +<p>In a few hurried words with Ferrier, before the meeting of the +House, Marsham gave the result of his visit to Beechcote. Diana had +been, of course, very much shaken, but was bearing the thing +bravely. They were engaged, but nothing was to be said in public +for at least six months, so as to give Lady Lucy time to +reconsider.</p> +<p>"Though, of course, I know, as far as that is concerned, we +might as well be married to-morrow and have done with it!"</p> +<p>"Ah!--but it is due to her--to your mother."</p> +<p>"I suppose it is. But the whole situation is grotesque. I must +look out for some way of making money. Any suggestions thankfully +received!"</p> +<p>Marsham spoke with an irritable flippancy. Ferrier's hazel eyes, +set and almost lost in spreading cheeks, dwelt upon him +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"All right; I will think of some. You explained the position to +Miss Mallory?"</p> +<p>"No," said Marsham, shortly. "How could I?"</p> +<p>The alternatives flew through Ferrier's mind: "Cowardice?--or +delicacy?" Aloud, he said: "I am afraid she will not be long in +ignorance. It will be a big fight for her, too."</p> +<p>Marsham shrugged his thin shoulders.</p> +<p>"Of course. And all for nothing. Hullo, Fleming!--do you want +me?"</p> +<p>For the Liberal Chief Whip had paused beside them where they +stood, in a corner of the smoking-room, as though wishing to speak +to one or other of them, yet not liking to break up their +conversation.</p> +<p>"Don't let me interrupt," he said to Marsham. "But can I have a +word presently?"</p> +<p>"Now, if you like."</p> +<p>"Come to the Terrace," said the other, and they went out into +the gray of a March afternoon. There they walked up and down for +some time, engaged in an extremely confidential conversation. Signs +of a general election were beginning to be strong and numerous. The +Tory Government was weakening visibly, and the Liberals felt +themselves in sight of an autumn, if not a summer, dissolution. +But--funds!--there was the rub. The party coffers were very poorly +supplied, and unless they could be largely replenished, and at +once, the prospects of the election were not rosy.</p> +<p>Marsham had hitherto counted as one of the men on whom the party +could rely. It was known that his own personal resources were not +great, but he commanded his mother's ample purse. Lady Lucy had +always shown herself both loyal and generous, and at her death it +was, of course, assumed that he would be her heir. Lady Lucy's +check, in fact, sent, through her son, to the leading party club, +had been of considerable importance in the election five years +before this date, in which Marsham himself had been returned; the +Chief Whip wanted to assure himself that in case of need it would +be repeated.</p> +<p>But for the first time in a conversation of this kind Marsham's +reply was halting and uncertain. He would do his best, but he could +not pledge himself. When the Chief Whip, disappointed and +astonished, broke up their conference, Marsham walked into the +House after him, in the morbid belief that a large part of his +influence and prestige with his party was already gone. Let those +fellows, he thought, who imagine that the popular party can be run +without money, inform themselves, and not talk like asses!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In the afternoon, during an exciting debate on a subject Marsham +had made to some extent his own, and in which he was expected to +speak, two letters were brought to him. One was from Diana. He put +it into his pocket, feeling an instinctive recoil--with his speech +in sight--from the emotion it must needs express and arouse. The +other was from the chairman of a Committee in Dunscombe, the chief +town of his division. The town was, so far, without any proper hall +for public meetings. It was proposed to build a new Liberal Club +with a hall attached. The leading local supporter of the scheme +wrote--with apologies--to ask Marsham what he was prepared to +subscribe. It was early days to make the inquiry, but--in +confidence--he might state that he was afraid local support for the +scheme would mean more talk than money. Marsham pondered the letter +gloomily. A week earlier he would have gone to his mother for a +thousand pounds without any doubt of her reply.</p> +<p>It was just toward the close of the dinner-hour that Marsham +caught the Speaker's eye. Perhaps the special effort that had been +necessary to recall his thoughts to the point had given his nerves +a stimulus. At any rate, he spoke unusually well, and sat down amid +the cheers of his party, conscious that he had advanced his +Parliamentary career. A good many congratulations reached him +during the evening; he "drank delight of battle with his peers," +for the division went well, and when he left the House at one +o'clock in the morning it was in a mood of tingling exhilaration, +and with a sense of heightened powers.</p> +<p>It was not till he reached his own room, in his mother's hushed +and darkened house, that he opened Diana's letter.</p> +<p>The mere sight of it, as he drew it out of his pocket, jarred +upon him strangely. It recalled to him the fears and discomforts, +the sense of sudden misfortune and of ugly associations, which had +been, for a time, obliterated in the stress and interest of +politics. He opened it almost reluctantly, wondering at +himself.</p> +<blockquote>"MY DEAR OLIVER,--This letter from your mother reached +me last night. I don't know what to say, though I have thought for +many hours. I ought not to do you this great injury; that seems +plain to me. Yet, then, I think of all you said to me, and I feel +you must decide. You must do what is best for your future and your +career; and I shall never blame you, <i>whatever</i> you think +right. I wish I had known, or realized, the whole truth about your +mother when you were still here. It was my stupidity.<br> +<br> +"I have no claim--none--against what is best for you. Just two +words, Oliver!--and I think they <i>ought</i> to be 'Good-bye.'<br> +<br> +"Sir James Chide came after you left, and was most dear and kind. +To-day I have my father's letter--and one from my mother--that she +wrote for me--twenty years ago. I mustn't write any more. My eyes +are so tired.<br> +<br> +"Your grateful DIANA."</blockquote> +<p>He laid down the blurred note, and turned to the enclosure. Then +he read his mother's letter. And he had imagined, in his folly, +that his mother's refinement would at least make use of some other +weapon than the money! Why, it was <i>all</i> money!--a blunderbuss +of the crudest kind, held at Diana's head in the crudest way. This +is how the saints behave--the people of delicacy--when it comes to +a pinch! He saw his mother stripped of all her pretensions, her +spiritual airs, and for the first time in his life--his life of +unwilling subordination--he dared to despise her.</p> +<p>But neither contempt nor indignation helped him much. How was he +to answer Diana? He paced up and down for an hour considering it, +then sat down and wrote.</p> +<p>His letter ran as follows:</p> +<blockquote>"DEAREST DIANA,--I asked you to be my wife, and I stand +by my word. I did not like to say too much about my mother's state +of mind when we were together yesterday, but I am afraid it is very +true that she will withdraw her present allowance to me, and +deprive me of the money which my father left. Most unjustly, as it +has always seemed to me, she has complete control over it. Never +mind. I must see what can be done. No doubt my political career +will be, for a time, much affected. We must hope it will only be +for a time.<br> +<br> +"Ferrier and Sir James believe that my mother cannot maintain her +present attitude. But I do not, alack! share their belief. I +realize, as no one can who does not live in the same house with +her, the strength and obstinacy of her will. She will, I suppose, +leave my father's half-million to some of the charitable societies +in which she believes, and we must try and behave as though it had +never existed. I don't regret it for myself. But, of course, there +are many public causes one would have liked to help.<br> +<br> +"If I can, I will come down to Beechcote on Saturday again. +Meanwhile, do let me urge you to take care of your health, and not +to dwell too much on a past that nothing can alter. I understand, +of course, how it must affect you; but I am sure it will be +best--best, indeed, for us both--that you should now put it as much +as possible out of your mind. It may not be possible to hide the +sad truth. I fear it will not be. But I am sure that the less +said--or even thought--about it, the better. You won't think me +unkind, will you?<br> +<br> +"You will see a report of my speech in the debate to-morrow. It +certainly made an impression, and I must manage, if I can, to stick +to Parliament. But we will consult when we meet.<br> +<br> +"Your most loving OLIVER."</blockquote> +<p>As he wrote it Marsham had been uncomfortably conscious of +another self beside him--mocking, or critical.</p> +<p>"I don't regret it for myself." Pshaw! What was there to choose +between him and his mother? There, on his writing-table, lay a +number of recent bills, and some correspondence as to a Scotch moor +he had persuaded his mother to take for the coming season. There +was now to be an end, he supposed, to the expenditure which the +bills represented, and an end to expensive moors. "I don't regret +it for myself." Damned humbug! When did any man, brought up in +wealth, make the cold descent to poverty and self-denial without +caring? Yet he let the sentence stand. He was too sleepy, too +inert, to rewrite it.</p> +<p>And how cold were all his references to the catastrophe! He +groaned as he thought of Diana--as though he actually saw the +vulture gnawing at the tender breast. Had she slept?--had the tears +stopped? Let him tear up the beastly thing, and begin again!</p> +<p>No. His head fell forward on his arm. Some dull weight of +character--of disillusion--interposed. He could do no better. He +shut, stamped, and posted what he had written.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>At mid-day, in her Brookshire village, Diana received the +letter--with another from London, in a handwriting she did not +know.</p> +<p>When she had read Marsham's it dropped from her hand. The color +flooded her cheeks--as though the heart leaped beneath a fresh blow +which it could not realize or measure. Was it so she would have +written to Oliver if--</p> +<p>She was sitting at her writing-table in the drawing-room. Her +eyes wandered through the mullioned window beside her to the +hill-side and the woods. This was Wednesday. Four days since, among +those trees, Oliver had spoken to her. During those four days it +seemed to her that, in the old Hebrew phrase, she had gone down +into the pit. All the nameless dreads and terrors of her youth, all +the intensified fears of the last few weeks, had in a few minutes +become real and verified--only in a shape infinitely more terrible +than any fear among them all had ever dared to prophesy. The story +of her mother--the more she knew of it, the more she realized it, +the more sharply it bit into the tissues of life; the more it +seemed to set Juliet Sparling and Juliet Sparling's child alone by +themselves--in a dark world. Diana had never yet had the courage to +venture out-of-doors since the news came to her; she feared to see +even her old friends the Roughsedges, and had been invisible to +them since the Saturday; she feared even the faces of the village +children.</p> +<p>All through she seemed to have been clinging to Marsham's +supporting hand as to the clew which might--when nature had had its +way--lead her back out of this labyrinth of pain. But surely he +would let her sorrow awhile!--would sorrow with her. Under the +strange coldness and brevity of his letter, she felt like the +children in the market-place of old--"We have mourned unto you, and +ye have not wept."</p> +<p>Yet if her story was not to be a source of sorrow--of divine +pity--it could only be a source of disgrace and shame. Tears might +wash it out! But to hate and resent it--so it seemed to her--must +be--in a world, where every detail of such a thing was or would be +known--to go through life branded and crushed by it. If the man who +was to be her husband could only face it thus (by a stern ostracism +of the dead, by silencing all mention of them between himself and +her), her cheeks could never cease to burn, her heart to +shrink.</p> +<p>Now at last she felt herself weighed indeed to the earth, +because Marsham, in that measured letter, had made her realize the +load on him.</p> +<p>All that huge wealth he was to give up for her? His mother had +actually the power to strip him of his inheritance?--and would +certainly exercise it to punish him for marrying her--Diana?</p> +<p>Humiliation came upon her like a flood, and a bitter insight +followed. Between the lines of the letter she read the reluctance, +the regrets of the man who had written it. She saw that he would be +faithful to her if he could, but that in her own concentration of +love she had accepted what Oliver had not in truth the strength to +give her. The Marsham she loved had suddenly disappeared, and in +his place was a Marsham whom she might--at a personal cost he would +never forget, and might never forgive--persuade or compel to marry +her.</p> +<p>She sprang up. For the first time since the blow had fallen, +vigor had returned to her movements and life to her eyes.</p> +<p>"Ah, no!" she said to herself, panting a little. +"<i>No!</i>"</p> +<p>A letter fell to the ground--the letter in the unknown +handwriting. Some premonition made her open it and prepared her for +the signature.</p> +<blockquote>"MY DEAR MISS MALLORY,--I heard of the sad discovery +which had taken place, from my cousin, Miss Drake, on Sunday +morning, and came up at once from the country to be with my mother; +for I know well with what sympathy she had been following Oliver's +wishes and desires. It is a very painful business. I do most truly +regret the perplexing situation in which you find yourself, and I +am sure you will not resent it if, as Oliver's sister, I write you +my views on the matter.<br> +<br> +"I am afraid it is useless to expect that my mother should give +way. And, then, the question is, What is the right course for you +and Oliver to pursue? I understand that he proposed to you, and you +accepted him, in ignorance of the melancholy truth. And, like a man +of honor, he proposes to stand by his engagement--unless, of +course, you release him.<br> +<br> +"Now, if I were in your place, I should expect to consider such a +matter not as affecting myself only, but in its relation to +society--and the community. Our first duty is to Society. We owe it +everything, and we must not act selfishly toward it. Consider +Oliver's position. He has his foot on the political ladder. Every +session his influence in Parliament increases. His speech to-night +was--as I hear from a man who has just come from the debate--the +most brilliant he has yet made. It is extremely likely that when +our party comes in again he will have office, and in ten or fifteen +years' time what is there to prevent his being even Prime +Minister?--with all the mighty influence over millions of human +beings which that means?<br> +<br> +"But to give him every chance in his career money is, +unfortunately, indispensable. Every English Prime Minister has been +a rich man. It may be a blot on our English life. I think it is. +But, then, I have been all my life on the side of the poor. You, +who are a Tory and an Imperialist, who sympathize with militarism +and with war, will agree that it is important our politicians +should be among the 'Haves,' that a man's possessions <i>do</i> +matter to his party and his cause.<br> +<br> +"They matter especially--at the present moment--to <i>our</i> party +and <i>our</i> cause. We are the poor party, and our rich men are +few and far between.<br> +<br> +"You may say that you would help him, and that your own money would +be at his disposal. But could a man live upon his wife, in such +circumstances, with any self-respect? Of course, I know that you +are very young, and I trust that your views on many subjects, +social and political, will change, and change materially, before +long. It is a serious thing for women nowadays to throw themselves +across the path of progress. At the same time I see that you have a +strong--if I may say so--a vehement character. It may not be easy +for you to cast off at once what, I understand, has been your +father's influence. And meanwhile Oliver would be fighting all your +father's and your ideas--largely on your money; for he has only a +thousand a year of his own.<br> +<br> +"Please let me assure you that I am not influenced by my mother's +views. She attaches importance--an exaggerated--if she were not my +mother, I should say an absurd--importance, to the family. Whereas, +ideas--the great possibilities of the future--when free men and +women shall lead a free and noble life--these are what influence +<i>me</i>--these are what I live for.<br> +<br> +"It will cause you both pain to separate. I know that. But summon a +rational will to your aid, and you will soon see that passion is a +poor thing compared to impersonal and unselfish aims. The cause of +women--their political and social enfranchisement--the freeing of +men from the curse of militarism--of both men and women from the +patriotic lies which make us bullies and cowards--it is to these I +would invite you--when you have overcome a mere personal grief.<br> +<br> +"I fear I shall seem to you a voice crying in the wilderness; but I +write in Oliver's interest--and your own.<br> +<br> +"Yours sincerely,<br> +<br> +"ISABEL FOTHERINGHAM.<br> +<br> +"P.S. Our secretary, Mrs. Derrick Smith, at the Mary Wollstonecraft +Club, will always be glad to send you any literature you might +require."</blockquote> +<p>Diana read to the end. She put it down with something like a +smile. As she paced the room, her head thrown back, her hands +behind her, the weight had been lifted from her; she breathed from +a freer breast.</p> +<p>Very soon she went back to her desk and began to write.</p> +<blockquote>"My dear Oliver,--I did not realize how things were +when you came yesterday. Now I see. You must not marry me. I could +not bear to bring poverty upon you, and--to-day--I do not feel that +I have the strength to meet your mother's and your sister's +opposition.<br> +<br> +"Will you please tell Lady Lucy and Mrs. Fotheringham that I have +received their letters? It will not be necessary to answer them. +You will tell them that I have broken off the engagement.<br> +<br> +"You were very good to me yesterday. I thank you with all my heart. +But it is not in my power--yet--to forget it all. My mother was so +young--and it seems but the other day.<br> +<br> +"I would not injure your career for the world. I hope that all good +will come to you--always.<br> +<br> +"Probably Mrs. Colwood and I shall go abroad for a little while. I +want to be alone--and it will be easiest so. Indeed, if possible, +we shall leave London to-morrow night. Good-bye.<br> +<br> +"DIANA."</blockquote> +<p>She rose, and stood looking down upon the letter. A thought +struck her. Would he take the sentence giving the probable time of +her departure as an invitation to him to come and meet her at the +station?--as showing a hope that he might yet persist--and +prevail?</p> +<p>She stooped impetuously to rewrite the letter. Instead, her +tears fell on it. Sobbing, she put it up--she pressed it to her +lips. If he did come--might they not press hands?--look into each +other's eyes?--just once, once more?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>An hour later the home was in a bustle of packing and +housekeeping arrangements. Muriel Colwood, with a small set face +and lips, and eyes that would this time have scorned to cry, was +writing notes and giving directions. Meanwhile, Diana had written +to Mrs. Roughsedge, and, instead of answering the letter, the +recipient appeared in person, breathless with the haste she had +made, the gray curls displaced.</p> +<p>Diana told her story, her slender fingers quivering in the large +motherly hand whose grasp soothed her, her eyes avoiding the tender +dismay and pity writ large on the old face beside her; and at the +end she said, with an effort:</p> +<p>"Perhaps you have all expected me to be engaged to Mr. Marsham. +He did propose to me--but--I have refused him."</p> +<p>She faltered a little as she told her first falsehood, but she +told it.</p> +<p>"My dear!" cried Mrs. Roughsedge, "he can't--he won't--accept +that! If he ever cared for you, he will care for you tenfold more +now!"</p> +<p>"It was I," said Diana, hurriedly--"I have done it. And, please, +I would rather it were now all forgotten. Nobody else need know, +need they, that he proposed?"</p> +<p>She stroked her friend's hand piteously. Mrs. Roughsedge, +foreseeing the storm of gossip that would be sweeping in a day or +two through the village and the neighborhood, could not command +herself to speak. Her questions--her indignation--choked her. At +the end of the conversation, when Diana had described such plans as +she had, and the elder lady rose to go, she said, faltering:</p> +<p>"May Hugh come and say good-bye?"</p> +<p>Diana shrank a moment, and then assented. Mrs. Roughsedge folded +the girl to her heart, and fairly broke down. Diana comforted her; +but it seemed as if her own tears were now dry. When they were +parting, she called her friend back a moment.</p> +<p>"I think," she said, steadily, "it would be best now that +everybody here should know what my name was, and who I am. Will you +tell the Vicar, and anybody else you think of? I shall come back to +live here. I know everybody will be kind--" Her voice died +away.</p> +<p>The March sun had set and the lamps were lit when Hugh +Roughsedge entered the drawing-room where Diana sat writing +letters, paying bills, absorbing herself in all the details of +departure. The meeting between them was short. Diana was +embarrassed, above all, by the tumult of suppressed feeling she +divined in Roughsedge. For the first time she must perforce +recognize what hitherto she had preferred not to see: what now she +was determined not to know. The young soldier, on his side, was +stifled by his own emotions--wrath--contempt--pity; and by a +maddening desire to wrap this pale stricken creature in his arms, +and so protect her from an abominable world. But something told +him--to his despair--that she had been in Marsham's arms; had given +her heart irrevocably; and that, Marsham's wife or no, all was done +and over for him, Hugh Roughsedge.</p> +<p>Yet surely in time--in time! That was the inner clamor of the +mind, as he bid her good-bye, after twenty minutes' disjointed +talk, in which, finally, neither dared to go beyond commonplace. +Only at the last, as he held her hand, he asked her:</p> +<p>"I may write to you from Nigeria?"</p> +<p>Rather shyly, she assented; adding, with a smile:</p> +<p>"But I am a bad letter-writer!"</p> +<p>"You are an angel!" he said, hoarsely, lifted her hand, kissed +it, and rushed away.</p> +<p>She was shaken by the scene, and had hardly composed herself +again to a weary grappling with business when the front door bell +rang once more, and the butler appeared.</p> +<p>"Mr. Lavery wishes to know, miss, if you will see him."</p> +<p>The Vicar! Diana's heart sank. Must she? But some deep +instinct--some yearning--interfered, and she bade him be +admitted.</p> +<p>Then she stood waiting, dreading some onslaught on the secrets +of her mind and heart--some presumption in the name of +religion.</p> +<p>The tall form entered, in the close-buttoned coat, the gaunt +oblong of the face poked forward, between the large protruding +ears, the spectacled eyes blinking.</p> +<p>"May I come in? I will only keep you a few minutes."</p> +<p>She came forward and gave him her hand. The door shut behind +him.</p> +<p>"Won't you sit down?"</p> +<p>"I think not. You must be very busy. I only came to say a few +words. Miss Mallory!"</p> +<p>He still held her hand. Diana trembled, and looked up.</p> +<p>"--I fear you may have thought me harsh. <i>I</i> blame myself +in many respects. Will you forgive me? Mrs. Roughsedge has told me +what you wished her to tell me. Before you go, will you still let +me give you Christ's message?"</p> +<p>The tears rushed back to Diana's eyes; she looked at him +silently.</p> +<p>"'Blessed are they that mourn,'" he said, gently, with a tender +dignity, "'for they shall be comforted!'"</p> +<p>Their eyes met. From the man's face and manner everything had +dropped but the passion of Christian charity, mingled with a touch +of remorse--as though, in what had been revealed to him, the +servant had realized some mysterious rebuke of his Lord.</p> +<p>"Remember that!" he went on. "Your mourning is your blessing. +God's love will come to you through it--and the sense of fellowship +with Christ. Don't cast it from you--don't put it away."</p> +<p>"I know," she said, brokenly. "It is agony, but it is +sacred."</p> +<p>His eyes grew dim. She withdrew her hand, and they talked a +little about her journey.</p> +<p>"But you will come back," he said to her, presently, with +earnestness; "your friends here will think it an honor and a +privilege to welcome you."</p> +<p>"Oh yes, I shall come back. Unless--I have some friends in +London--East London. Perhaps I might work there."</p> +<p>He shook his head.</p> +<p>"No, you are not strong enough. Come back here. There is God's +work to be done in this village, Miss Mallory. Come and put your +hand to it. But not yet--not yet."</p> +<p>Then her weariness told him that he had said enough, and he +went.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Late that night Diana tore herself from Muriel Colwood, went +alone to her room, and locked her door. Then she drew back the +curtains, and gazed once more on the same line of hills she had +seen rise out of the wintry mists on Christmas morning. The moon +was still behind the down, and a few stars showed among the +clouds.</p> +<p>She turned away, unlocked a drawer, and, falling upon her knees +by the bed, she spread out before her the fragile and time-stained +paper that held her mother's last words to her.</p> +<blockquote>"MY LITTLE DIANA--my precious child,--It may be--it +will be--years before this reaches you. I have made your father +promise to let you grow up without any knowledge or reminder of me. +It was difficult, but at last--he promised. Yet there must come a +time when it will hurt you to think of your mother. When it +does--listen, my darling. Your father knows that I loved him +always! He knows--and he has forgiven. He knows too what I did--and +how--so does Sir James. There is no place, no pardon for me on +earth--but you may still love me, Diana--still love me--and pray +for me. Oh, my little one!--they brought you in to kiss me a little +while ago--and you looked at me with your blue deep eyes--and then +you kissed me--so softly--a little strangely--with your cool +lips--and now I have made the nurse lift me up that I may write. A +few days--perhaps even a few hours--will bring me rest. I long for +it. And yet it is sweet to be with your father, and to hear your +little feet on the stairs. But most sweet, perhaps, because it must +end so soon. Death makes these days possible, and for that I bless +and welcome death. I seem to be slipping away on the great +stream--so gently--tired--only your father's hand. Good-bye--my +precious Diana--your dying--and very weary<br> +<br> +"MOTHER."</blockquote> +<p>The words sank into Diana's young heart. They dulled the smart +of her crushed love; they awakened a sense of those forces +ineffable and majestic, terrible and yet "to be entreated," which +hold and stamp the human life. Oliver had forsaken her. His kiss +was still on her lips. Yet he had forsaken her. She must stand +alone. Only--in the spirit--she put out clinging hands; she drew +her mother to her breast; she smiled into her father's eyes. One +with them; and so one with all who suffer! She offered her life to +those great Forces; to the hidden Will. And thus, after three days +of torture, agony passed into a trance of ecstasy--of +aspiration.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>But these were the exaltations of night and silence. With the +returning day, Diana was again the mere girl, struggling with +misery and nervous shock. In the middle of the morning arrived a +special messenger with a letter from Marsham. It contained +arguments and protestations which in the living mouth might have +had some power. That the living mouth was not there to make them +was a fact more eloquent than any letter. For the first time Diana +was conscious of impatience, of a natural indignation. She merely +asked the messenger to say that "there was no answer."</p> +<p>Yet, as they crossed London her heart fluttered within her. One +moment her eyes were at the window scanning the bustle of the +streets; the next she would force herself to talk and smile with +Muriel Colwood.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood insisted on dinner at the Charing Cross Hotel. +Diana submitted. Afterward they made their way, along the departure +platform, to the Dover-Calais train. They took their seats. Muriel +Colwood knew--felt it indeed, through every nerve--that the girl +with her was still watching, still hoping, still straining each +bodily perception in a listening expectancy.</p> +<p>The train was very full, and the platform crowded with friends, +luggage, and officials. Upon the tumult the great electric lamps +threw their cold ugly light. The roar and whistling of the trains +filled the vast station. Diana, meanwhile, sat motionless in her +corner, looking out, one hand propping her face.</p> +<p>But no one came. The signal was given for departure. The train +glided out. Diana's head slipped back and her eyes closed. Muriel, +stifling her tears, dared not approach her.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Northward and eastward from Dover Harbor, sweep beyond sweep, +rose the white cliffs that are to the arriving and departing +Englishman the symbols of his country.</p> +<p>Diana, on deck, wrapped in veil and cloak, watched them +disappear, in mists already touched by the moonrise. Six months +before she had seen them for the first time, had fed her eyes upon +the "dear, dear land," as cliffs and fields and houses flashed upon +the sight, yearning toward it with the passion of a daughter and an +exile.</p> +<p>In those six months she had lived out the first chapter of her +youth. She stood between two shores of life, like the vessel from +which she gazed; vanishing lights and shapes behind her; darkness +in front.</p> +<blockquote>"Where lies the land to which the ship must go?<br> +Far, far ahead is all the seamen know!"</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="Part_III"></a>Part III</h2> +<blockquote>"<i>Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no,<br> +How can it? O how can Love's eye be true<br> +That is so vexed with watching and with tears?</i>"</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br> +<p>London was in full season. But it was a cold May, and both the +town and its inhabitants wore a gray and pinched aspect. Under the +east wind an unsavory dust blew along Piccadilly; the ladies were +still in furs; the trees were venturing out reluctantly, showing +many a young leaf bitten by night frosts; the Park had but a scanty +crowd; and the drapers, oppressed with summer goods, saw their +muslins and gauzes in the windows give up their freshness for +naught.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, the ferment of political and social life had +seldom been greater. A Royal wedding in the near future was +supposed to account for the vigor of London's social pulse; the +streets, indeed, were already putting up poles and decorations. And +a general election, expected in the autumn, if not before, +accounted for the vivacity of the clubs, the heat of the +newspapers, and the energy of the House of Commons, where all-night +sittings were lightly risked by the Government and recklessly +challenged by the Opposition. Everybody was playing to the +gallery--<i>i.e.</i>, the country. Old members were wooing their +constituencies afresh; young candidates were spending feverish +energies on new hazards, and anxiously inquiring at what particular +date in the campaign tea-parties became unlawful. Great issues were +at stake; for old parties were breaking up under the pressure of +new interests and passions; within the Liberal party the bubbling +of new faiths was at its crudest and hottest; and those who stood +by the slow and safe ripening of Freedom, from "precedent to +precedent," were in much anxiety as to what shape or shapes might +ultimately emerge from a brew so strong and heady. Which only means +that now, as always, Whigs and Radicals were at odds; and the +"unauthorized programme" of the day was sending its fiery cross +through the towns and the industrial districts of the north.</p> +<p>A debate of some importance was going on in the House of +Commons. The Tory Government had brought in a Land Bill, intended, +no doubt, rather as bait for electors than practical politics. It +was timid and ill-drafted, and the Opposition, in days when there +were still some chances in debate, joyously meant to kill it, +either by frontal attack or by obstruction. But, in the opinion of +the Left Wing of the party, the chief weapon of its killing should +be the promise of a much larger and more revolutionary measure from +the Liberal side. The powerful Right Wing, however, largely +represented on the front bench, held that you could no more make +farmers than saints by Act of Parliament, and that only by slow and +indirect methods could the people be drawn back to the land. There +was, in fact, little difference between them and the front bench +opposite, except a difference in method; only the Whig brains were +the keener; and in John Ferrier the Right Wing had a personality +and an oratorical gift which the whole Tory party admired and +envied.</p> +<p>There had been a party meeting on the subject of the Bill, and +Ferrier and the front bench had, on the whole, carried the +indorsement of their policy. But there was an active and +discontented minority, full of rebellious projects for the general +election.</p> +<p>On this particular afternoon Ferrier had been dealing with the +Government Bill on the lines laid down by the meeting at Grenville +House. His large pale face (the face of a student rather than a +politician), with its small eyes and overhanging brows; the +straight hair and massive head; the heavy figure closely buttoned +in the familiar frock-coat; the gesture easy, animated, still +young--on these well-known aspects a crowded House had bent its +undivided attention. Then Ferrier sat down; a bore rose; and out +flowed the escaping tide to the lobbies and the Terrace.</p> +<p>Marsham found himself on the Terrace, among a group of +malcontents: Barton, grim and unkempt, prophet-eyes blazing, mouth +contemptuous; the Scotchman McEwart, who had been one of the New +Year's visitors to Tallyn, tall, wiry, red-haired, the embodiment +of all things shrewd and efficient; and two or three more. A young +London member was holding forth, masking what was really a passion +of disgust in a slangy nonchalance.</p> +<p>"What's the good of turning these fellows out--will anybody tell +me?--if that's all Ferrier can do for us? Think I prefer 'em to +that kind of mush! As for Barton, I've had to hold him down by the +coat-tails!"</p> +<p>Barton allowed the slightest glint of a smile to show itself for +an instant. The speaker--Roland Lankester--was one of his few +weaknesses. But the frown returned. He strolled along with his +hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground; his silence was +the silence of one in whom the fire was hot.</p> +<p>"Most disappointing--all through!" said McEwart, with emphasis. +"The facts wrongly chosen--the argument absurd. It'll take all the +heart out of our fellows in the country."</p> +<p>Marsham looked up.</p> +<p>"Well, it isn't for want of pressure. Ferrier's life hasn't been +worth living this last month."</p> +<p>The tone was ambiguous. It fitted either with defence or +indictment.</p> +<p>The London member--Roland Lankester, who was a friend of Marion +Vincent, and of Frobisher, represented an East End constituency, +and lived there--looked at the speaker with a laugh. "That's +perfectly true. What have we all been doing but 'gingering' Ferrier +for the last six months? And here's the result! No earthly good in +wearing one's self to fiddle-strings over this election! I shall go +and keep pigs in Canada!"</p> +<p>The group strolled along the Terrace, leaving behind them an +animated crowd, all busy with the same subject. In the middle of it +they passed Ferrier himself--flushed--with the puffy eyes of a man +who never gets more than a quarter allowance of sleep; his aspect, +nevertheless, smiling and defiant, and a crowd of friends round +him. The wind blew chill up the river, crisping the incoming tide; +and the few ladies who were being entertained at tea drew their +furs about them, shivering.</p> +<p>"He'll <i>have</i> to go to the Lords!--that's flat--if we win +this election. If we come back, the new members will never stand +him; and if we don't--well, I suppose, in that case, he does as +well as anybody else."</p> +<p>The remarks were McEwart's. Lankester turned a sarcastic eye +upon him.</p> +<p>"Don't you be unjust, my boy. Ferrier's one of the smartest +Parliamentary hands England has ever turned out"</p> +<p>At this Barton roused.</p> +<p>"What's the good of that?" he asked, with quiet ferocity, in his +strong Lancashire accent. "What does Ferrier's smartness matter to +us? The Labor men are sick of it! All he's asked to do is to run +<i>straight!</i>--as the party wants him to run."</p> +<p>"All right. <i>Ad leones!</i> Ferrier to the Lords. I'm +agreeable. Only I don't know what Marsham will say to it."</p> +<p>Lankester pushed back a very shabby pot-hat to a still more +rakish angle, buttoning up an equally shabby coat the while against +the east wind. He was a tall fair-haired fellow, half a Dane in +race and aspect: broad-shouldered, loose-limbed, with a Franciscan +passion for poverty and the poor. But a certain humorous tolerance +for all sorts and conditions of men, together with certain +spiritual gifts, made him friends in all camps. Bishops consulted +him, the Socialists claimed him; perhaps it was the East End +children who possessed him most wholly. Nevertheless, there was a +fierce strain in him; he could be a fanatic, even a hard fanatic, +on occasion.</p> +<p>Marsham did not show much readiness to take up the reference to +himself. As he walked beside the others, his slender elegance, his +handsome head, and fashionable clothes marked him out from the +rugged force of Barton, the middle-class alertness of McEwart, the +rubbed apostolicity of Lankester. But the face was fretful and +worried.</p> +<p>"Ferrier has not the smallest intention of going to the Lords!" +he said, at last--not without a touch of impatience.</p> +<p>"That's the party's affair."</p> +<p>"The party owes him a deal too much to insist upon anything +against his will."</p> +<p>"Does it!--<i>does</i> it!" said Lankester. "Ferrier always +reminds me of a cat we possessed at home, who brought forth many +kittens. She loved them dearly, and licked them all +over--tenderly--all day. But by the end of the second day they were +always dead. Somehow she had killed them all. That's what Ferrier +does with all our little Radical measures--loves 'em all--and kills +'em all."</p> +<p>McEwart flushed.</p> +<p>"Well, it's no good talking," he said, doggedly; "we've done +enough of that! There will be a meeting of the Forward Club next +week, and we shall decide on our line of action."</p> +<p>"Broadstone will never throw him over." Lankester threw another +glance at Marsham. "You'll only waste your breath."</p> +<p>Lord Broadstone was the veteran leader of the party, who in the +event of victory at the polls would undoubtedly be Prime +Minister.</p> +<p>"He can take Foreign Affairs, and go to the Lords in a blaze of +glory," said McEwart. "But he's <i>impossible!</i>--as leader in +the Commons. The party wants grit--not dialectic."</p> +<p>Marsham still said nothing. The others fell to discussing the +situation in much detail, gradually elaborating what were, in +truth, the first outlines of a serious campaign against Ferrier's +leadership. Marsham listened, but took no active part in it. It was +plain, however, that none of the group felt himself in any way +checked by Marsham's presence or silence.</p> +<p>Presently Marsham--the debate in the House having fallen to +levels of dulness "measureless to man"--remembered that his mother +had expressed a wish that he might come home to dinner. He left the +House, lengthening his walk for exercise, by way of Whitehall and +Piccadilly. His expression was still worried and preoccupied. +Mechanically he stopped to look into a picture-dealer's shop, still +open, somewhere about the middle of Piccadilly. A picture he saw +there made him start. It was a drawing of the chestnut woods of +Vallombrosa, in the first flush and glitter of spring, with a +corner of one of the monastic buildings, now used as a hotel.</p> +<p><i>She</i> was there. At an official crush the night before he +had heard Chide say to Lady Niton that Miss Mallory had written to +him from Vallombrosa, and was hoping to stay there till the end of +June. So that she was sitting, walking, reading, among those woods. +In what mood?--with what courage? In any case, she was alone; +fighting her grief alone; looking forward to the future alone. +Except, of course, for Mrs. Colwood--nice, devoted little +thing!</p> +<p>He moved on, consumed with regrets and discomfort. During the +two months which had elapsed since Diana had left England, he had, +in his own opinion, gone through a good deal. He was pursued by the +memory of that wretched afternoon when he had debated with himself +whether he should not, after all, go and intercept her at Charing +Cross, plead his mother's age and frail health, implore her to give +him time; not to break off all relations; to revert, at least, to +the old friendship. He had actually risen from his seat in the +House of Commons half an hour before the starting of the train; had +made his way to the Central Lobby, torn by indecision; and had +there been pounced upon by an important and fussy constituent. Of +course, he could have shaken the man off. But just the extra +resolution required to do it had seemed absolutely beyond his +power, and when next he looked at the clock it was too late. He +went back to the House, haunted by the imagination of a face. She +would never have mentioned her route unless she had meant "Come and +say good-bye!"--unless she had longed for a parting look and word. +And he--coward that he was--had shirked it--had denied her last +mute petition.</p> +<p>Well!--after all--might it not simply have made matters +worse?--for her no less than for him? The whole thing was his +mother's responsibility. He might, no doubt, have pushed it all +through, regardless of consequences; he might have accepted the +Juliet Sparling heritage, thrown over his career, braved his +mother, and carried off Diana by storm--if, that is, she would ever +have allowed him to make the sacrifice as soon as she fully +understood it. But it would have been one of the most quixotic +things ever done. He had made his effort to do it; and--frankly--he +had not been capable of it. He wondered how many men of his +acquaintance would have been capable of it.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, he had fallen seriously in his own estimation. Nor +was he unaware that he had lost a certain amount of consideration +with the world at large. His courtship of Diana had been watched by +a great many people: and at the same moment that it came to an end +and she left England, the story of her parentage had become known +in Brookshire. There had been a remarkable outburst of public +sympathy and pity, testifying, no doubt, in a striking way, to the +effect produced by the girl's personality, even in those few months +of residence. And the fact that she was not there, that only the +empty house that she had furnished with so much girlish pleasure +remained to bear its mute testimony to her grief, made feeling all +the hotter. Brookshire beheld her as a charming and innocent +victim, and, not being able to tell her so, found relief in blaming +and mocking at the man who had not stood by her. For it appeared +there was to be no engagement, although all Brookshire had expected +it. Instead of it, came the announcement of the tragic truth, the +girl's hurried departure, and the passionate feeling on her behalf +of people like the Roughsedges, or her quondam critic, the +Vicar.</p> +<p>Marsham, thereupon, had become conscious of a wind of +unpopularity blowing through his constituency. Some of the nice +women of the neighborhood, with whom he had been always hitherto a +welcome and desired guest, had begun to neglect him; men who would +never have dreamed of allowing their own sons to marry a girl in +Diana's position, greeted him with a shade less consideration than +usual; and the Liberal agent in the division had suddenly ceased to +clamor for his attendance and speeches at rural meetings. There +could be no question that by some means or other the story had got +abroad--no doubt in a most inaccurate and unjust form--and was +doing harm.</p> +<p>Reflections of this kind were passing through his mind as he +crossed Hyde Park Corner on his way to Eaton Square. Opposite St. +George's Hospital he suddenly became aware of Sir James Chide on +the other side of the road. At sight of him, Marsham waved his +hand, quickening his pace that he might come up with him. Sir +James, seeing him, gave him a perfunctory greeting, and suddenly +turned aside to hail a hansom, into which he jumped, and was +carried promptly out of sight.</p> +<p>Marsham was conscious of a sudden heat in the face. He had never +yet been so sharply reminded of a changed relation. After Diana's +departure he had himself written to Chide, defending his own share +in the matter, speaking bitterly of the action taken by his mother +and sister, and lamenting that Diana had not been willing to adopt +the waiting and temporizing policy, which alone offered any hope of +subduing his mother's opposition. Marsham declared--persuading +himself, as he wrote, of the complete truth of the statement--that +he had been quite willing to relinquish his father's inheritance +for Diana's sake, and that it was her own action alone that had +separated them. Sir James had rather coldly acknowledged the +letter, with the remark that few words were best on a subject so +painful; and since then there had been no intimacy between the two +men. Marsham could only think with discomfort of the scene at +Felton Park, when a man of passionate nature and romantic heart had +allowed him access to the most sacred and tragic memories of his +life. Sir James felt, he supposed, that he had been cheated out of +his confidence--cheated out of his sympathy. Well!--it was +unjust!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He reached Eaton Square in good time for dinner, and found his +mother in the drawing-room.</p> +<p>"You look tired, Oliver," she said, as he kissed her.</p> +<p>"It's the east wind, I suppose--beastly day!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy surveyed him, as he stood, moody and physically +chilled, with his back to the fire.</p> +<p>"Was the debate interesting?"</p> +<p>"Ferrier made a very disappointing speech. All our fellows are +getting restive."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy looked astonished.</p> +<p>"Surely they ought to trust his judgment! He has done so +splendidly for the party."</p> +<p>Marsham shook his head.</p> +<p>"I wish you would use your influence," he said, slowly. "There +is a regular revolt coming on. A large number of men on our side +say they won't be led by him; that if we come in, he must go to the +Lords."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy started.</p> +<p>"Oliver!" she said, indignantly, "you know it would break his +heart!"</p> +<p>And before both minds there rose a vision of Ferrier's future, +as he himself certainly conceived it. A triumphant election--the +Liberals in office--himself, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and +leader of the Commons--with the reversion of the Premiership +whenever old Lord Broadstone should die or retire--this indeed had +been Ferrier's working understanding with his party for years; +years of strenuous labor, and on the whole of magnificent +generalship. Deposition from the leadership of the Commons, with +whatever compensations, could only mean to him, and to the world in +general, the failure of his career.</p> +<p>"They would give him Foreign Affairs, of course," said Marsham, +after a pause.</p> +<p>"Nothing that they could give him would make up!" said Lady +Lucy, with energy. "You certainly, Oliver, could not lend yourself +to any intrigue of the kind."</p> +<p>Marsham shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"My position is not exactly agreeable! I don't agree with +Ferrier, and I do agree with the malcontents. Moreover, when we +come in, they will represent the strongest element in the party, +with the future in their hands."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy looked at him with sparkling eyes.</p> +<p>"You can't desert him, Oliver!--not you!"</p> +<p>"Perhaps I'd better drop out of Parliament!" he said, +impatiently. "The game sometimes doesn't seem worth the +candle."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy--alarmed--laid a hand on his.</p> +<p>"Don't say those things, Oliver. You know you have never done so +well as this year."</p> +<p>"Yes--up to two months ago."</p> +<p>His mother withdrew her hand. She perfectly understood. Oliver +often allowed himself allusions of this kind, and the relations of +mother and son were not thereby improved.</p> +<p>Silence reigned for a few minutes. With a hand that shook +slightly, Lady Lucy drew toward her a small piece of knitting she +had been occupied with when Marsham came in, and resumed it. +Meanwhile there flashed through his mind one of those recollections +that are only apparently incongruous. He was thinking of a +dinner-party which his mother had given the night before; a vast +dinner of twenty people; all well-fed, prosperous, moderately +distinguished, and, in his opinion, less than moderately amused. +The dinner had dragged; the guests had left early; and he had come +back to the drawing-room after seeing off the last of them, stifled +with yawns. Waste of food, waste of money, waste of time--waste of +everything! He had suddenly been seized with a passionate sense of +the dulness of his home life; with a wonder how long he could go on +submitting to it. And as he recalled these feelings--as of dust in +the mouth--there struck across them an image from a dream-world. +Diana sat at the head of the long table; Diana in white, with her +slender neck, and the blue eyes, with their dear short-sighted +look, her smile, and the masses of her dark hair. The dull faces on +either side faded away; the lights, the flowers were for her--for +her alone!</p> +<p>He roused himself with an effort. His mother was putting up her +knitting, which, indeed, she had only pretended to work at.</p> +<p>"We must go and dress, Oliver. Oh! I forgot to tell you--Alicia +arrived an hour ago."</p> +<p>"Ah!" He raised his eyebrows indifferently. "I hope she's +well?"</p> +<p>"Brilliantly well--and as handsome as ever."</p> +<p>"Any love-affairs?"</p> +<p>"Several, apparently--but nothing suitable," said Lady Lucy, +with a smile, as she rose and gathered together her +possessions.</p> +<p>"It's time, I think, that Alicia made up her mind. She has been +out a good while."</p> +<p>It gave him a curious pleasure--he could hardly tell why--to say +this slighting thing of Alicia. After all, he had no evidence that +she had done anything unfriendly or malicious at the time of the +crisis. Instinctively, he had ranged her then and since as an +enemy--as a person who had worked against him. But, in truth, he +knew nothing for certain. Perhaps, after the foolish passages +between them a year ago, it was natural that she should dislike and +be critical of Diana. As to her coming now, it was completely +indifferent to him. It would be a good thing, no doubt, for his +mother to have her companionship.</p> +<p>As he opened the door for Lady Lucy to leave the room, he +noticed her gray and fragile look.</p> +<p>"I believe you have had enough of London, mother. You ought to +be getting abroad."</p> +<p>"I am all right," said Lady Lucy, hastily. "Like you, I hate +east winds. Oliver, I have had a charming letter from Mr. +Heath."</p> +<p>Mr. Heath had been for some months Marsham's local correspondent +on the subject of the new Liberal hall in the county town. Lady +Lucy had recently sent a check to the Committee, which had set all +their building anxieties at rest.</p> +<p>Oliver looked down rather moodily upon her.</p> +<p>"It's pretty easy to write charming letters when people send you +money. It would have been more to the purpose, I think, if they had +taken a little trouble to raise some themselves!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy flushed.</p> +<p>"I don't suppose Dunscombe is a place with many rich people in +it," she said, in a voice of protest, as she passed him. Her +thoughts hurt her as she mounted the stairs. Oliver had not +received her gift--for, after all, it was a gift to him--very +graciously. And the same might have been said of various other +things that she had tried to do for him during the preceding +months.</p> +<p>As to Marsham, while he dressed, he too recalled other checks +that had been recently paid for him, other anxious attempts that +had been made to please him. Since Diana had vanished from the +scene, no complaisance, no liberality had been too much for his +mother's good-will. He had never been so conscious of an atmosphere +of money--much money. And there were moments--what he himself would +have described as morbid moments--when it seemed to him the price +of blood; when he felt himself to be a mere, crude moral tale +embodied and walking about. Yet how ridiculous! What reasonable +man, knowing what money means, and the power of it, but must have +flinched a little under such a test as had been offered to him? His +flinching had been nothing final or damnable. It was Diana, who, in +her ignorance of the world, had expected him to take the sacrifice +as though it were nothing and meant nothing--as no honest man of +the world, in fact, could have taken it.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When Marsham descended he found Alicia already in possession of +the drawing-room. Her gown of a brilliant shade of blue put the +room out of joint, and beside the startling effect of her hair, all +the washed-out decoration and conventional ornament which it +contained made a worse effect than usual. There was nothing +conventional or effaced about Alicia. She had become steadily more +emphatic, more triumphant, more self-confident.</p> +<p>"Well, what have you been doing with yourself?--nothing but +politics?" The careless, provocative smile with which the words +were accomplished roused a kind of instant antagonism in +Marsham.</p> +<p>"Nothing--nothing, at least, worth anybody's remembering."</p> +<p>"You spoke at Dunscombe last week."</p> +<p>"I did."</p> +<p>"And you went to help Mr. Collins at the Sheffield +bye-election."</p> +<p>"I did. I am very much flattered that you know so much about my +movements."</p> +<p>"I always know everything that you are doing," said Alicia, +quietly--"you, and Cousin Lucy."</p> +<p>"You have the advantage of me then"; his laugh was embarrassed, +but not amicable; "for I am afraid I have no idea what you have +been doing since Easter!"</p> +<p>"I have been at home, flirting with the Curate," said Alicia, +with a laugh. As she sat, with her head thrown back against the +chair, the light sparkling on her white skin, on her necklace of +yellow topazes, and the jewelled fan in her hands, the folds of +blue chiffon billowing round her, there could be no doubt of her +effectiveness. Marsham could not help laughing, too.</p> +<p>"Charming for the Curate! Did he propose to you?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. I think we were engaged for twenty-four hours."</p> +<p>"That you might see what it was like? <i>Et +après?</i>"</p> +<p>"He was afraid he had mistaken my character"</p> +<p>Marsham laughed out.</p> +<p>"Poor victim! May I ask what you did it for?"</p> +<p>He found himself looking at her with curiosity and a certain +anger. To be engaged, even for twenty-four hours, means that you +allow your betrothed the privileges of betrothal. And in the case +of Alicia no man was likely to forego them. She was really a little +too unscrupulous!</p> +<p>"What I did it for? He was so nice and good-looking!"</p> +<p>"And there was nobody else?"</p> +<p>"Nobody. Home was a desert."</p> +<p>"H'm!" said Marsham. "Is he broken-hearted?"</p> +<p>Alicia shrugged her shoulders a little.</p> +<p>"I don't think so. I write him such charming letters. It is all +simmering down beautifully."</p> +<p>Marsham moved restlessly to and fro, first putting down a lamp, +then fidgeting with an evening paper. Alicia never failed to stir +in him the instinct of sex, in its combative and critical form; and +hostile as he believed he was to her, her advent had certainly +shaken him out of his depression.</p> +<p>She meanwhile watched him with her teasing eyes, apparently +enjoying his disapproval.</p> +<p>"I know exactly what you are thinking," she said, presently.</p> +<p>"I doubt it."</p> +<p>"Heartless coquette!" she said, mimicking his voice. "Never +mind--her turn will come presently!"</p> +<p>"You don't allow my thoughts much originality."</p> +<p>"Why should I? Confess!--you did think that?"</p> +<p>Her small white teeth flashed in the smile she gave him. There +was an exuberance of life and spirits about her that was rather +disarming. But he did not mean to be disarmed.</p> +<p>"I did not think anything of the kind," he said, returning to +the fire and looking down upon her; "simply because I know you too +well."</p> +<p>Alicia reddened a little. It was one of her attractions that she +flushed so easily.</p> +<p>"Because you know me too well?" she repeated. "Let me see. That +means that you don't believe my turn will ever come?"</p> +<p>Marsham smiled.</p> +<p>"Your turn for what?" he said, dryly.</p> +<p>"I think we are getting mixed up!" Her laugh was as musical as +he remembered it. "Let's begin again. Ah! here comes Cousin +Lucy!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy entered, ushering in an elderly relation, a Miss +Falloden, dwelling also in Eaton Square: a comfortable lady with a +comfortable income; a social stopper of chinks, moreover, kind and +talkative; who was always welcome on occasions when life was not +too strenuous or the company too critical. Marsham offered her his +arm, and the little party made its way to the dining-room.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Do you go back to the House, Oliver, to-night?" asked his +mother, as the entree went round.</p> +<p>He replied in the affirmative, and resumed his conversation with +Alicia. She was teasing him on the subject of some of his Labor +friends in the House of Commons. It appeared that she had made the +Curate, who was a Christian Socialist, take her to a Labor +Conference at Bristol, where all the leaders were present, and her +account of the proceedings and the types was both amusing and +malicious. It was the first time that Marsham had known her attempt +any conversation of the kind, and he recognized that her cleverness +was developing. But many of the remarks she made on persons well +known to him annoyed him extremely, and he could not help trying to +punish her for them. Alicia, however, was not easily punished. She +evaded him with a mosquito-like quickness, returning to the charge +as soon as he imagined himself to have scored with an irrelevance +or an absurdity which would have been exasperating in a man, but +had somehow to be answered and politely handled from a woman. He +lost his footing continually; and as she had none to lose, she had, +on the whole, the best of it.</p> +<br> +<a name="image-332.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-332.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-332.jpg" width="40%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Alicia upright in her corner--Oliver, deep in his +armchair"</b></p> +<br> +<p>Then--in the very midst of it--he remembered, with a pang, +another skirmish, another battle of words--with another adversary, +in a different scene. The thrill of that moment in the Tallyn +drawing-room, when he had felt himself Diana's conqueror; +delighting in her rosy surrender, which was the mere sweet +admission of a girl's limitations; and in its implied appeal, timid +and yet proud, to a victor who was also a friend--all this he was +conscious of, by association, while the sparring with Alicia still +went on. His tongue moved under the stimulus of hers; but in the +background of the mind rose the images and sensations of the +past.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy, meanwhile, looked on, well pleased. She had not seen +Oliver so cheerful, or so much inclined to talk, since "that +unfortunate affair," and she was proportionately grateful to +Alicia.</p> +<p>Marsham returned to the drawing-room with the ladies, declaring +that he must be off in twenty minutes. Alicia settled herself in a +corner of the sofa, and played with Lady Lucy's dog. Marsham +endeavored, for a little, to do his duty by Miss Falloden; but in a +few minutes he had drifted back to Alicia. This time she made him +talk of Parliament, and the two or three measures in which he was +particularly interested. She showed, indeed, a rather astonishing +acquaintance with the details of those measures, and the thought +crossed Marsham's mind: "Has she been getting them up?--and why?" +But the idea did not make the conversation she offered him any the +less pleasant. Quite the contrary. The mixture of teasing and +deference which she showed him, in the course of it, had been the +secret of her old hold upon him. She reasserted something of it +now, and he was not unwilling. During the morose and taciturn phase +through which he had been passing there had been no opportunity or +desire to talk of himself, especially to a woman. But Alicia had +always made him talk of himself, and he had forgotten how agreeable +it might be.</p> +<p>He threw himself down beside her, and the time passed. Lady Lucy +and Miss Falloden had retired into the back drawing-room, where the +one knitted and the other gossiped. But as the clock struck a +quarter to eleven Lady Lucy called, in some astonishment: "So you +are not going back to the House, Oliver?"</p> +<p>He sprang to his feet.</p> +<p>"Heavens!" He looked at the clock, irresolute. "Well, there's +nothing much on, mother. I don't think I need."</p> +<p>And he subsided again into his chair beside Alicia.</p> +<p>Miss Falloden looked at Lady Lucy with a meaning smile.</p> +<p>"I didn't know they were such friends!" she said, under her +breath.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy made no reply. But her eyes travelled through the +archway dividing the two rooms to the distant figures framed within +it--Alicia, upright in her corner, the red gold of her hair shining +against the background of a white azalea; Oliver, deep in his +arm-chair, his long legs crossed, his hands gesticulating.</p> +<p>Lady Niton's sarcasms recurred to her. She was not sure whether +she welcomed or disliked the idea. But, after all, why not?</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br> +<p>"Ecco, Signorina! il Convento!"</p> +<p>The driver reined up his horse, pointing with his whip.</p> +<p>Diana and Muriel Colwood stood up eagerly in the carriage, and +there at the end of the long white road, blazing on the +mountain-side, terrace upon terrace, arch upon arch, rose the +majestic pile of buildings which bears the name of St. Francis. +Nothing else from this point was to be seen of Assisi. The sun, +descending over the mountain of Orvieto, flooded the building +itself with a level and blinding light, while upon Monte Subasio, +behind, a vast thunder-cloud, towering in the southern sky, threw +storm-shadows, darkly purple, across the mountain-side, and from +their bosom the monastery, the churches, and those huge +substructures which make the platform on which the convent stands, +shone out in startling splendor.</p> +<p>The travellers gazed their fill, and the carriage clattered +on.</p> +<p>As they neared the town and began to climb the hill Diana looked +round her--at the plain through which they had come, at the +mountains to the east, at the dome of the Portiuncula. Under the +rushing light and shade of the storm-clouds, the blues of the +hills, the young green of the vines, the silver of the olives, rose +and faded, as it were, in waves of color, impetuous and +magnificent. Only the great golden building, crowned by its double +church, most famous of all the shrines of Italy, glowed steadily, +amid the alternating gleam and gloom--fit guardian of that still +living and burning memory which is St. Francis.</p> +<p>"We shall be happy here, sha'n't we?" said Diana, stealing a +hand into her companion's. "And we needn't hurry away."</p> +<p>She drew a long breath. Muriel looked at her tenderly--enchanted +whenever the old enthusiasm, the old buoyancy reappeared. They had +now been in Italy for nearly two months. Muriel knew that for her +companion the time had passed in one long wrestle for a new moral +and spiritual standing-ground. All the glory of Italy had passed +before the girl's troubled eyes as something beautiful but +incoherent, a dream landscape, on which only now and then her full +consciousness laid hold. For to the intenser feeling of youth, full +reality belongs only to the world within; the world where the heart +loves and suffers. Diana's true life was there; and she did not +even admit the loyal and gentle woman who had taken a sister's +place beside her to a knowledge of its ebb and flow. She bore +herself cheerfully and simply; went to picture-galleries and +churches; sketched and read--making no parade either of sorrow or +of endurance. But the impression on Mrs. Colwood all the time was +of a desperately struggling soul voyaging strange seas of grief +alone. She sometimes--though rarely--talked with Muriel of her +mother's case; she would sometimes bring her friend a letter of her +father's, or a fragment of journal from that full and tragic store +which the solicitors had now placed in her hands; generally +escaping afterward from all comment; only able to bear a look, a +pressure of the hand. But, as a rule, she kept her pain out of +sight. In the long dumb debate with herself she had grown thin and +pale. There was nothing, however, to be done, nothing to be said. +The devoted friend could only watch and wait. Meanwhile, of Oliver +Marsham not a word was ever spoken between them.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The travellers climbed the hill as the sun sank behind the +mountains, made for the Subasio Hotel, found letters, and ordered +rooms.</p> +<p>Among her letters, Diana opened one from Sir James Chide. "The +House will be up on Thursday for the recess, and at last I have +persuaded Ferrier to let me carry him off. He is looking worn out, +and, as I tell him, will break down before the election unless he +takes a holiday now. So he comes--protesting. We shall probably +join you somewhere in Umbria--at Perugia or Assisi. If I don't find +you at one or the other, I shall write to Siena, where you said you +meant to be by the first week in June. And, by-the-way, I shouldn't +wonder if Bobbie Forbes were with us. He amuses Ferrier, who is +very fond of him. But, of course, you needn't see anything of him +unless you like."</p> +<p>The letter was passed on to Muriel, who thought she perceived +that the news it contained seemed to make Diana shrink into +herself. She was much attached to Sir James Chide, and had +evidently felt pleasure in the expectation of his coming out to +join them. But Mr. Ferrier--and Bobbie Forbes--both of them +associated with the Marshams and Tallyn? Mrs. Colwood noticed the +look of effort in the girl's delicate face, and wished that Sir +James had been inspired to come alone.</p> +<p>After unpacking, there still remained half an hour before dark. +They hurried out for a first look at the double church.</p> +<p>The evening was cold and the wind chill. Spring comes tardily to +the high mountain town, and a light powdering of snow still lay on +the topmost slope of Monte Subasio. Before going into the church +they turned up the street that leads to the Duomo and the temple of +Minerva. Assisi seemed deserted--a city of ghosts. Not a soul in +the street, not a light in the windows. On either hand, houses +built of a marvellous red stone or marble, which seemed still to +hold and radiate the tempestuous light which had but just faded +from them; the houses of a small provincial aristocracy, +immemorially old like the families which still possessed them; +close-paned, rough-hewn, and poor--yet showing here and there a +doorway, a balcony, a shrine, touched with divine beauty.</p> +<p>"Where <i>are</i> all the people gone to?" cried Muriel, looking +at the secret rose-colored walls, now withdrawing into the dusk, +and at the empty street. "Not a soul anywhere!"</p> +<p>Presently they came to an open doorway--above it an +inscription--"Bibliotheca dei Studii Franciscani." Everything stood +open to the passer-by. They went in timidly, groped their way to +the marble stairs, and mounted. All void and tenantless! At the top +of the stairs was a library with dim bookcases and marble floors +and busts; but no custode--no reader--not a sound!</p> +<p>"We seem to be all alone here--with St. Francis!" said Diana, +softly, as they descended to the street--"or is everybody at +church?"</p> +<p>They turned their steps back to the Lower Church. As they went +in, darkness--darkness sudden and profound engulfed them. They +groped their way along the outer vestibule or transept, finding +themselves amid a slowly moving crowd of peasants. The crowd +turned; they with it; and a blaze of light burst upon them.</p> +<p>Before them was the nave of the Lower Church, with its +dark-storied chapels on either hand, itself bathed in a golden +twilight, with figures of peasants and friars walking in it, +vaguely transfigured. But the sanctuary beyond, the altar, the +walls, and low-groined roof flamed and burned. An exposition of the +Sacrament was going on. Hundreds of slender candles arranged upon +and about the altar in a blazing pyramid drew from the habitual +darkness in which they hide themselves Giotto's thrice famous +frescos; or quickened on the walls, like flowers gleaming in the +dawn, the loveliness of quiet faces, angel and saint and mother, +the beauty of draped folds at their simplest and broadest, a fairy +magic of wings and trumpets, of halos and crowns.</p> +<p>Now the two strangers understood why they had found Assisi +itself deserted; emptied of its folk this quiet eve. Assisi was +here, in the church which is at once the home and daily spectacle +of her people. Why stay away among the dull streets and small +houses of the hill-side, when there were these pleasures of eye and +ear, this sensuous medley of light and color, this fellowship and +society, this dramatic symbolism and movement, waiting for them +below, in the church of their fathers?</p> +<p>So that all were here, old and young, children and youths, +fathers just home from their work, mothers with their babies, girls +with their sweethearts. Their happy yet reverent familiarity with +the old church, their gay and natural participation in the ceremony +that was going on, made on Diana's alien mind the effect of a great +multitude crowding to salute their King. There, in the midst, +surrounded by kneeling acolytes and bending priests, shone the +Mystic Presence. Each man and woman and child, as they passed out +of the shadow into the light, bent the knee, then parted to either +side, each to his own place, like courtiers well used to the ways +of a beautiful and familiar pageantry.</p> +<p>An old peasant in a blouse noticed the English ladies, beckoned +to them, and with a kind of gracious authority led them through +dark chapels, till he had placed them in the open space that spread +round the flaming altar, and found them seats on the stone ledge +that girdles the walls. An old woman saying her beads looked up +smiling and made room. A baby or two ran out over the worn marble +flags, gazed up at the gilt-and-silver angels hovering among the +candles of the altar, and was there softly captured--wide-eyed, and +laughing in a quiet ecstasy--by its watchful mother.</p> +<p>Diana sat down, bewildered by the sheer beauty of a marvellous +and incomparable sight. Above her head shone the Giotto frescos, +the immortal four, in which the noblest legend of Catholicism finds +its loveliest expression, as it were the script, itself +imperishable, of a dying language, to which mankind will soon have +lost the key.</p> +<p>Yet only dying, perhaps, as the tongue of Cicero died--to give +birth to the new languages of Europe.</p> +<p>For in Diana's heart this new language of the spirit which is +the child of the old was already strong, speaking through the vague +feelings and emotions which held her spellbound. What matter the +garment of dogma and story?--the raiment of pleaded fact, which for +the modern is no fact? In Diana, as in hundreds and thousands of +her fellows, it had become--unconsciously--without the torment and +struggle of an older generation--Poetry and Idea; and all the more +invincible thereby.</p> +<p>Above her head, Poverty, gaunt and terrible in her white robe, +her skirt torn with brambles, and her poor cheek defaced by the +great iron hook which formerly upheld the Sanctuary lamp, married +with St. Francis--Christ himself joining their hands.</p> +<p>So Love and Sorrow pledged each other in the gleaming color of +the roof. Divine Love spoke from the altar, and in the crypt +beneath their feet which held the tomb of the Poverello the ashes +of Love slept.</p> +<p>The girl's desolate heart melted within her. In these weeks of +groping, religion had not meant much to her. It had been like a +bird-voice which night silences. All the energy of her life had +gone into endurance. But now it was as though her soul plunged into +the freshness of vast waters, which upheld and sustained--without +effort. Amid the shadows and phantasms of the church--between the +faces on the walls and the kneeling peasants, both equally +significant and alive--those ghosts of her own heart that moved +with her perpetually in the life of memory stood, or knelt, or +gazed, with the rest: the piteous figure of her mother; her +father's gray hair and faltering step; Oliver's tall youth. Never +would she escape them any more; they were to be the comrades of her +life, for Nature had given her no powers of forgetting. But here, +in the shrine of St. Francis, it was as though the worst smart of +her anguish dropped from her. From the dark splendor, the storied +beauty of the church, voices of compassion and of peace spoke to +her pain; the waves of feeling bore her on, unresisting; she closed +her eyes against the lights, holding back the tears. Life seemed +suspended, and suffering ceased.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"So we have tracked you!" whispered a voice in her ear. She +looked up startled. Three English travellers had quietly made their +way to the back of the altar. Sir James Chide stood beside her; and +behind him the substantial form of Mr. Ferrier, with the merry +snub-nosed face of Bobbie Forbes smiling over the great man's +shoulder.</p> +<p>Diana--smiling back--put a finger to her lip; the service was at +its height, and close as they were to the altar decorum was +necessary. Presently, guided by her, they moved softly on to a +remoter and darker corner.</p> +<p>"Couldn't we escape to the Upper Church?" asked Chide of +Diana.</p> +<p>She nodded, and led the way. They stole in and out of the +kneeling groups of the north transept, and were soon climbing the +stairway that links the two churches, out of sight and hearing of +the multitude below. Here there was again pale daylight. Greetings +were interchanged, and both Chide and Ferrier studied Diana's looks +with a friendly anxiety they did their best to conceal. Forbes also +observed Juliet Sparling's daughter--hotly curious--yet also hotly +sympathetic. What a story, by Jove!</p> +<p>Their footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness of the Upper +Church. Apparently they had it to themselves.</p> +<p>"No friars!" said Forbes, looking about him. "That's a blessing, +anyway! You can't deny, Miss Mallory, that <i>they</i>'re a blot on +the landscape. Or have you been flattering them up, as all the +other ladies do who come here?"</p> +<p>"We have only just arrived. What's wrong with the friars?" +smiled Diana.</p> +<p>"Well, we arrived this morning, and I've about taken their +measure--though Ferrier won't allow it. But I saw four of +them--great lazy, loafing fellows, Miss Mallory--much stronger than +you or me--being dragged up these abominable hills--<i>four of +'em</i>--in one <i>legno</i>--with one wretched toast-rack of a +horse. And not one of them thought of walking. Each of them with +his brown petticoats, and an umbrella as big as himself. Ugh! I +offered to push behind, and they glared at me. What do you think +St. Francis would have said to them? Kicked them out of that +<i>legno</i>, pretty quick, I'll bet you!"</p> +<p>Diana surveyed the typical young Englishman indulging a +typically Protestant mood.</p> +<p>"I thought there were only a few old men left," she said, "and +that it was all very sad and poetic?"</p> +<p>"That used to be so," said Ferrier, glancing round the church, +so as to make sure that Chide was safely occupied in seeing as much +of the Giotto frescos on the walls as the fading light allowed. +"Then the Pope won a law-suit. The convent is now the property of +the Holy See, the monastery has been revived, and the place seems +to swarm with young monks. However, it is you ladies that ruin +them. You make pretty speeches to them, and look so charmingly +devout."</p> +<p>"There was a fellow at San Damiano this morning," interrupted +Bobbie, indignantly; "awfully good-looking--and the most affected +cad I ever beheld. I'd like to have been his fag-master at Eton! I +saw him making eyes at some American girls as we came in; then he +came posing and sidling up to us, and gave us a little lecture on +'Ateismo.' Ferrier said nothing--stood there as meek as a lamb, +listening to him--looking straight at him. I nearly died of +laughing behind them."</p> +<p>"Come here, Bobbie, you reprobate!" cried Chide from a distance. +"Hold your tongue, and bring me the guide-book."</p> +<p>Bobbie strolled off, laughing.</p> +<p>"Is it all a sham, then," said Diana, looking round her with a +smile and a sigh: "St. Francis--and the 'Fioretti'--and the 'Hymn +to the Sun'? Has it all ended in lazy monks--and hypocrisy?"</p> +<p>"Dante asked himself the same question eighty years after St. +Francis's death. Yet here is this divine church!"--Ferrier pointed +to the frescoed walls, the marvellous roof--"here is immortal +art!--and here, in your mind and in mine, after six hundred years, +is a memory--an emotion--which, but for St. Francis, had never +been; by which indeed we judge his degenerate sons. Is that not +achievement enough--for one child of man?"</p> +<p>"Six hundred years hence what modern will be as much alive as +St. Francis is now?" Diana wondered, as they strolled on.</p> +<p>He turned a quiet gaze upon her.</p> +<p>"Darwin? At least I throw it out."</p> +<p>"Darwin!" Her voice showed doubt--the natural demur of her young +ignorance and idealism.</p> +<p>"Why not? What faith was to the thirteenth century knowledge is +to us. St. Francis rekindled the heart of Europe, Darwin has +transformed the main conception of the human mind."</p> +<p>In the dark she caught the cheerful patience of the small +penetrating eyes as they turned upon her. And at the same +time--strangely--she became aware of a sudden and painful +impression; as though, through and behind the patience, she +perceived an immense fatigue and discouragement--an ebbing power of +life--in the man beside her.</p> +<p>"Hullo!" said Bobbie Forbes, turning back toward them, "I +thought there was no one else here."</p> +<p>For suddenly they had become aware of a tapping sound on the +marble floor, and from the shadows of the eastern end there emerged +two figures: a woman in front, lame and walking with a stick, and a +man behind. The cold reflected light which filled the western half +of the church shone full on both faces. Bobbie Forbes and Diana +exclaimed, simultaneously. Then Diana sped along the pavement.</p> +<p>"Who?" said Chide, rejoining the other two.</p> +<p>"Frobisher--and Miss Vincent," said Forbes, studying the +new-comers.</p> +<p>"Miss Vincent!" Chide's voice showed his astonishment. "I +thought she had been very ill."</p> +<p>"So she has," said Ferrier--"very ill. It is amazing to see her +here."</p> +<p>"And Frobisher?"</p> +<p>Ferrier made no reply. Chide's expression showed perplexity, +perhaps a shade of coldness. In him a warm Irish heart was joined +with great strictness, even prudishness of manners, the result of +an Irish Catholic education of the old type. Young women, in his +opinion, could hardly be too careful, in a calumnious world. The +modern flouting of old decorums--small or great--found no supporter +in the man who had passionately defended and absolved Juliet +Sparling.</p> +<p>But he followed the rest to the greeting of the new-comers. +Diana's hand was in Miss Vincent's, and the girl's face was full of +joy; Marion Vincent, deathly white, her eyes, more amazing, more +alive than ever, amid the emaciation that surrounded them, greeted +the party with smiling composure--neither embarrassed, nor +apologetic--appealing to Frobisher now and then as to her +travelling companion--speaking of "our week at Orvieto"--making, in +fact, no secret of an arrangement which presently every member of +the group about her--even Sir James Chide--accepted as simply as it +was offered to them.</p> +<p>As to Frobisher, he was rather silent, but no more embarrassed +than she. It was evident that he kept an anxious watch lest her +stick should slip upon the marble floor, and presently he insisted +in a low voice that she should go home and rest.</p> +<p>"Come back after dinner," she said to him, in the same tone as +they emerged on the piazza. He nodded, and hurried off by +himself.</p> +<p>"You are at the Subasio?" The speaker turned to Diana. "So am I. +I don't dine--but shall we meet afterward?"</p> +<p>"And Mr. Frobisher?" said Diana, timidly.</p> +<p>"He is staying at the Leone. But I told him to come back."</p> +<p>After dinner the whole party met in Diana's little sitting-room, +of which one window looked to the convent, while the other +commanded the plain. And from the second, the tenant of the room +had access to a small terrace, public, indeed, to the rest of the +hotel, but as there were no other guests the English party took +possession.</p> +<p>Bobbie stood beside the terrace window with Diana, gossiping, +while Chide and Ferrier paced the terrace with their cigars. +Neither Miss Vincent nor Frobisher had yet appeared, and Muriel +Colwood was making tea. Bobbie was playing his usual part of the +chatterbox, while at the same time he was inwardly applying much +native shrewdness and a boundless curiosity to Diana and her +affairs.</p> +<p>Did she know--had she any idea--that in London at that moment +she was one of the main topics of conversation?--in fact, the best +talked-about young woman of the day?--that if she were to spend +June in town--which of course she would not do--she would find +herself a <i>succès fou</i>--people tumbling over one +another to invite her, and make a show of her? Everybody of his +acquaintance was now engaged in retrying the Wing murder, since +that statement of Chide's in the <i>Times</i>. No one talked of +anything else, and the new story that was now tacked on to the old +had given yet another spin to the ball of gossip.</p> +<p>How had the story got out? Bobbie believed that it had been +mainly the doing of Lady Niton. At any rate, the world understood +perfectly that Juliet Sparling's innocent and unfortunate daughter +had been harshly treated by Lady Lucy--and deserted by Lady Lucy's +son.</p> +<p>Queer fellow, Marsham!--rather a fool, too. Why the deuce didn't +he stick to it? Lady Lucy would have come round; he would have +gained enormous <i>kudos</i>, and lost nothing. Bobbie looked +admiringly at his companion, vowing to himself that she was worth +fighting for. But his own heart was proof. For three months he had +been engaged, <i>sub rosa</i>, to a penniless cousin. No one knew, +least of all Lady Niton, who, in spite of her championship of +Diana, would probably be furious when she did know. He found +himself pining to tell Diana; he would tell her as soon as ever he +got an opportunity. Odd!--that the effect of having gone through a +lot yourself should be that other people were strongly drawn to +unload their troubles upon you. Bobbie felt himself a selfish +beast; but all the same his "Ettie" and his debts; the pros and +cons of the various schemes for his future, in which he had +hitherto allowed Lady Niton to play so queer and tyrannical a +part--all these burned on his tongue till he could confide them to +Diana.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the talk strayed to Ferrier and politics--dangerous +ground! Yet some secret impulse in Diana drew her toward it, and +Bobbie's curiosity played up. Diana spoke with concern of the great +man's pallor and fatigue. "Not to be wondered at," said Forbes, +"considering the tight place he was in, or would soon be in." Diana +asked for explanations, acting a part a little; for since her +acquaintance with Oliver Marsham she had become a diligent reader +of newspapers. Bobbie, divining her, gave her the latest and most +authentic gossip of the clubs; as to the various incidents and +gradations of the now open revolt of the Left Wing; the current +estimates of Ferrier's strength in the country; and the prospects +of the coming election.</p> +<p>Presently he even ventured on Marsham's name, feeling +instinctively that she waited for it. If there was any change in +the face beside him the May darkness concealed it, and Bobbie +chattered on. There was no doubt that Marsham was in a difficulty. +All his sympathies at least were with the rebels, and their victory +would be his profit.</p> +<p>"Yet as every one knows that Marsham is under great obligations +to Ferrier, for him to join the conspiracy these fellows are +hatching doesn't look pretty."</p> +<p>"He won't join it!" said Diana, sharply.</p> +<p>"Well, a good many people think he's in it already. Oh, I dare +say it's all rot!" the speaker added, hastily; "and, besides, it's +not at all certain that Marsham himself will get in next time."</p> +<p>"Get in!" It was a cry of astonishment--passing on into +constraint. "I thought Mr. Marsham's seat was absolutely safe."</p> +<p>"Not it." Bobbie began to flounder. "The fact is it's not safe +at all; it's uncommonly shaky. He'll have a squeak for it. They're +not so sweet on him down there as they used to be."</p> +<p>Gracious!--if she were to ask why! The young man was about +hastily to change the subject when Sir James and his companion came +toward them.</p> +<p>"Can't we tempt you out, Miss Mallory?" said Ferrier. "There is +a marvellous change!" He pointed to the plain over which the night +was falling. "When we met you in the church it was still winter, or +wintry spring. Now--in two hours--the summer's come!"</p> +<p>And on Diana's face, as she stepped out to join him, struck a +buffet of warm air; a heavy scent of narcissus rose from the +flower-boxes on the terrace; and from a garden far below came the +sharp thin prelude of a nightingale.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>For about half an hour the young girl and the veteran of +politics walked up and down--sounding each other--heart reaching +out to heart--dumbly--behind the veil of words. There was a secret +link between them. The politician was bruised and weary--well aware +that just as Fortune seemed to have brought one of her topmost +prizes within his grasp, forces and events were gathering in +silence to contest it with him. Ferrier had been twenty-seven years +in the House of Commons; his chief life was there, had always been +there; outside that maimed and customary pleasure he found, +besides, a woman now white-haired. To rule--to lead that House had +been the ambition of his life. He had earned it; had scorned +delights for it; and his powers were at their ripest.</p> +<p>Yet the intrigue, as he knew, was already launched that might, +at the last moment, sweep him from his goal. Most of the men +concerned in it he either held for honest fanatics or despised as +flatterers of the mob--ignobly pliant. He could and would fight +them all with good courage and fair hope of victory.</p> +<p>But Lucy Marsham's son!--that defection, realized or threatened, +was beginning now to hit him hard. Amid all their disagreements of +the past year his pride had always refused to believe that Marsham +could ultimately make common cause with the party dissenters. +Ferrier had hardly been able to bring himself, indeed, to take the +disagreements seriously. There was a secret impatience, perhaps +even a secret arrogance, in his feeling. A young man whom he had +watched from his babyhood, had put into Parliament, and led and +trained there!--that he should take this hostile and harassing +line, with threat of worse, was a matter too sore and intimate to +be talked about. He did not mean to talk about it. To Lady Lucy he +never spoke of Oliver's opinions, except in a half-jesting way; to +other people he did not speak of them at all. Ferrier's affections +were deep and silent. He had not found it possible to love the +mother without loving the son--had played, indeed, a father's part +to him since Henry Marsham's death. He knew the brilliant, flawed, +unstable, attractive fellow through and through. But his knowledge +left him still vulnerable. He thought little of Oliver's political +capacity; and, for all his affection, had no great admiration for +his character. Yet Oliver had power to cause him pain of a kind +that no other of his Parliamentary associates possessed.</p> +<p>The letters of that morning had brought him news of an important +meeting in Marsham's constituency, in which his leadership had been +for the first time openly and vehemently attacked. Marsham had not +been present at the meeting, and Lady Lucy had written, eagerly +declaring that he could not have prevented it and had no +responsibility. But could the thing have been done within his own +borders without, at least, a tacit connivance on his part?</p> +<p>The incident had awakened a peculiarly strong feeling in the +elder man, because during the early days of the recess he had +written a series of letters to Marsham on the disputed matters that +were dividing the party; letters intended not only to recall +Marsham's own allegiance, but--through him--to reach two of the +leading dissidents--Lankester and Barton--in particular, for whom +he felt a strong personal respect and regard.</p> +<p>These letters were now a cause of anxiety to him. His procedure +in writing them had been, of course, entirely correct. It is the +business of a party leader to persuade. But he had warned Oliver +from the beginning that only portions of them could or should be +used in the informal negotiations they were meant to help. Ferrier +had always been incorrigibly frank in his talk or correspondence +with Marsham, ever since the days when as an Oxford undergraduate, +bent on shining at the Union, Oliver had first shown an interest in +politics, and had found in Ferrier, already in the front rank, the +most stimulating of teachers. These remarkable letters accordingly +contained a good deal of the caustic or humorous discussion of +Parliamentary personalities, in which Ferrier--Ferrier at his +ease--excelled; and many passages, besides, in connection with the +measures desired by the Left Wing of the party, steeped in the +political pessimism, whimsical or serious, in which Ferrier showed +perhaps his most characteristic side at moments of leisure or +intimacy; while the moods expressed in outbreaks of the kind had +little or no effect on his pugnacity as a debater or his skill as a +party strategist, in face of the enemy.</p> +<p>But, by George! if they were indiscreetly shown, or repeated, +some of those things might blow up the party! Ferrier uncomfortably +remembered one or two instances during the preceding year, in which +it had occurred to him--as the merest fleeting impression--that +Oliver had repeated a saying or had twisted an opinion of his +unfairly--puzzling instances, in which, had it been any one else, +Ferrier would have seen the desire to snatch a personal advantage +at his, Ferrier's, expense. But how entertain such a notion in the +case of Oliver! Ridiculous!</p> +<p>He would write no more letters, however. With the news of the +Dunscombe meeting the relations between himself and Oliver entered +upon a new phase. Toward Lucy's son he must bear +himself--politically--henceforward, not as the intimate confiding +friend or foster-father, but as the statesman with greater +interests than his own to protect. This seemed to him clear; yet +the effort to adjust his mind to the new conditions gave him deep +and positive pain.</p> +<p>But what, after all, were his grievances compared with those of +this soft-eyed girl? It pricked his conscience to remember how +feebly he had fought her battle. She must know that he had done +little or nothing for her; yet there was something peculiarly +gentle, one might have thought pitiful, in her manner toward him. +His pride winced under it.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Sir James, too, must have his private talk with Diana--when he +took her to the farther extremity of the little terrace, and told +her of the results and echoes which had followed the publication, +in the <i>Times</i>, of Wing's dying statement.</p> +<p>Diana had given her sanction to the publication with trembling +and a torn mind. Justice to her mother required it. There she had +no doubt; and her will, therefore, hardened to the act, and to the +publicity which it involved. But Sir Francis Wing's son was still +living, and what for her was piety must be for him stain and +dishonor. She did not shrink; but the compunctions she could not +show she felt; and, through Sir James Chide, she had written a +little letter which had done something to soften the blow, as it +affected a dull yet not inequitable mind.</p> +<p>"Does he forgive us?" she asked, in a low voice, turning her +face toward the Umbrian plain, with its twinkling lights below, its +stars above.</p> +<p>"He knows he must have done the same in our place," said Sir +James.</p> +<p>After a minute he looked at her closely under the electric light +which dominated the terrace.</p> +<p>"I am afraid you have been going through a great deal," he said, +bending over her. "Put it from you when you can. You don't know how +people feel for you"</p> +<p>She looked up with her quick smile.</p> +<p>"I don't always think of it--and oh! I am so thankful to +<i>know</i>! I dream of them often--my father and mother--but not +unhappily. They are <i>mine</i>--much, much more than they ever +were."</p> +<p>She clasped her hands, and he felt rather than saw the +exaltation, the tender fire in her look.</p> +<p>All very well! But this stage would pass--must pass. She had her +own life to live. And if one man had behaved like a selfish coward, +all the more reason to invoke, to hurry on the worthy and the +perfect lover.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Presently Marion Vincent appeared, and with her Frobisher, and +an unknown man with a magnificent brow, dark eyes of a remarkable +vivacity, and a Southern eloquence both of speech and gesture. He +proved to be a famous Italian, a poet well known to European fame, +who, having married an English wife, had settled himself at Assisi +for the study of St. Francis and the Franciscan literature. He +became at once the centre of a circle which grouped itself on the +terrace, while he pointed to spot after spot, dimly white on the +shadows of the moon-lit plain, linking each with the Franciscan +legend and the passion of Franciscan poetry. The slopes of San +Damiano, the sites of Spello, Bevagna, Cannara; Rivo Torto, the +hovering dome of the Portiuncula, the desolate uplands that lead to +the Carceri; one after another, the scenes and images--grotesque or +lovely--simple or profound--of the vast Franciscan story rose into +life under his touch, till they generated in those listening the +answer of the soul of to-day to the soul of the Poverello. Poverty, +misery, and crime--still they haunt the Umbrian villages and the +Assisan streets; the shadows of them, as the north knows them, lay +deep and terrible in Marion Vincent's eyes. But as the poet spoke +the eternal protest and battle-cry of Humanity swelled up against +them--overflowed, engulfed them. The hearts of some of his +listeners burned within them.</p> +<p>And finally he brought them back to the famous legend of the +hidden church: deep, deep in the rock--below the two churches that +we see to-day; where St. Francis waits--standing, with his arms +raised to heaven, on fire with an eternal hope, an eternal +ecstasy.</p> +<p>"Waits for what?" said Ferrier, under his breath, forgetting his +audience a moment. "The death of Catholicism?"</p> +<p>Sir James Chide gave an uneasy cough. Ferrier, startled, looked +round, threw his old friend a gesture of apology which Sir James +mutely accepted. Then Sir James got up and strolled away, his hands +in his pockets, toward the farther end of the terrace.</p> +<p>The poet meanwhile, ignorant of this little incident, and +assuming the sympathy of his audience, raised his eyebrows, +smiling, as he repeated Ferrier's words:</p> +<p>"The death of Catholicism! No, Signor!--its second birth." And +with a Southern play of hand and feature--the nobility of brow and +aspect turned now on this listener, now on that--he began to +describe the revival of faith in Italy.</p> +<p>"Ten years ago there was not faith enough in this country to +make a heresy! On the one side, a moribund organization, poisoned +by a dead philosophy; on the other, negation, license, weariness--a +dumb thirst for men knew not what. And now!--if St. Francis were +here--in every olive garden--in each hill town--on the roads and +the by-ways--on the mountains--in the plains--his heart would greet +the swelling of a new tide drawing inward to this land--the breath +of a new spring kindling the buds of life. He would hear preached +again, in the language of a new day, his own religion of love, +humility, and poverty. The new faith springs from the very heart of +Catholicism, banned and persecuted as new faiths have always been; +but every day it lives, it spreads! Knowledge and science walk hand +in hand with it; the future is before it. It spreads in tales and +poems, like the Franciscan message; it penetrates the priesthood; +it passes like the risen body of the Lord through the walls of +seminaries and episcopal palaces; through the bulwarks that +surround the Vatican itself. Tenderly, yet with an absolute +courage, it puts aside old abuses, old ignorances!--like St. +Francis, it holds out its hand to a spiritual bride--and the name +of that bride is Truth! And in his grave within the rock--on +tiptoe--the Poverello listens--the Poverello smiles!"</p> +<p>The poet raised his hand and pointed to the convent pile, +towering under the moonlight. Diana's eyes filled with tears. Sir +James had come back to the group, his face, with its dignified and +strenuous lines, bent--half perplexed, half frowning--on the +speaker. And the magic of the Umbrian night stole upon each +quickened pulse.</p> +<p>But presently, when the group had broken up and Ferrier was once +more strolling beside Diana, he said to her:</p> +<p>"A fine prophecy! But I had a letter this morning from another +Italian writer. It contains the following passage: 'The soul of +this nation is dead. The old enthusiasms are gone. We have the most +selfish, the most cynical <i>bourgeoisie</i> in Europe. Happy the +men of 1860! They had some illusions left--religion, monarchy, +country. We too have men who <i>would give themselves</i>--if they +could. But to what? No one wants them any more--<i>nessuno li vuole +piu</i>!' Well, there are the two. Which will you believe?"</p> +<p>"The poet!" said Diana, in a low faltering voice. But it was no +cry of triumphant faith. It was the typical cry of our generation +before the closed door that openeth not.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"That was good," said Marion Vincent, as the last of the party +disappeared through the terrace window, and she and Diana were left +alone--"but this is better."</p> +<p>She drew Diana toward her, kissed her, and smiled at her. But +the smile wrung Diana's heart.</p> +<p>"Why have you been so ill?--and I never knew!" She wrapped a +shawl round her friend, and, holding her hands, gazed into her +face.</p> +<p>"It was all so hurried--there was so little time to think or +remember. But now there is time."</p> +<p>"Now you are going to rest?--and get well?"</p> +<p>Marion smiled again.</p> +<p>"I shall have holiday for a few months--then rest."</p> +<p>"You won't live any more in the East End? You'll come to me--in +the country?" said Diana, eagerly.</p> +<p>"Perhaps! But I want to see all I can in my holiday--before I +rest! All my life I have lived in London. There has been nothing to +see--but squalor. Do you know that I have lived next door to a +fried-fish shop for twelve years? But now--think!--I am in +Italy--and we are going to the Alps--and we shall stay on Lake +Como--and--and there is no end to our plans--if only my holiday is +long enough."</p> +<p>What a ghost face!--and what shining eyes!</p> +<p>"Oh, but make it long enough!" pleaded Diana, laying one of the +emaciated hands against her cheek, and smitten by a vague +terror.</p> +<p>"That does not depend on me," said Marion, slowly.</p> +<p>"Marion," cried Diana, "tell me what you mean!"</p> +<p>Marion hesitated a moment, then said, quietly:</p> +<p>"Promise, dear, to take it quite simply--just as I tell it. I am +so happy. There was an operation--six weeks ago. It was quite +successful--I have no pain. The doctors give me seven or eight +months. Then my enemy will come back--and my rest with him."</p> +<p>A cry escaped Diana as she buried her face in her friend's lap. +Marion kissed and comforted her.</p> +<p>"If you only knew how happy I am!" she said, in a low voice. +"Ever since I was a child I seem to have fought--fought hard for +every step--every breath. I fought for bread first--and +self-respect--for myself--then for others. One seemed to be +hammering at shut gates or climbing precipices with loads that +dragged one down. Such trouble always!" she murmured, with closed +eyes--"such toil and anguish of body and brain! And now it is all +over!"--she raised herself joyously--"I am already on the farther +side. I am like St. Francis--waiting. And meanwhile I have a dear +friend--who loves me. I can't let him marry me. Pain and disease +and mutilation--of all those horrors, as far as I can, he shall +know nothing. He shall not nurse me; he shall only love and lead +me. But I have been thirsting for beautiful things all my life--and +he is giving them to me. I have dreamed of Italy since I was a +baby, and here I am! I have seen Rome and Florence. We go on to +Venice. And next week there will be mountains--and +snow-peaks--rivers--forests--flowers--"</p> +<p>Her voice sank and died away. Diana clung to her, weeping, in a +speechless grief and reverence. At the same time her own murdered +love cried out within her, and in the hot despair of youth she told +herself that life was as much finished for her as for this tired +saint--this woman of forty--who had borne since her babyhood the +burdens of the poor.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br> +<p>The Whitsuntide recess passed--for the wanderers in Italy--in a +glorious prodigality of sun, a rushing of bud and leaf to "feed in +air," a twittering of birds, a splendor of warm nights, which for +once indorsed the traditional rhapsodies of the poets. The little +party of friends which had met at Assisi moved on together to Siena +and Perugia, except for Marion Vincent and Frobisher. They quietly +bade farewell, and went their way.</p> +<p>When Marion kissed Diana at parting, she said, with +emphasis:</p> +<p>"Now, remember!--you are not to come to London! You are not to +go to work in the East End. I forbid it! You are to go home--and +look lovely--and be happy!"</p> +<p>Diana's eyes gazed wistfully into hers.</p> +<p>"I am afraid--I hadn't thought lately of coming to London," she +murmured. "I suppose--I'm a coward. And just now I should be no +good to anybody."</p> +<p>"All right. I don't care for your reasons--so long as you go +home--and don't uproot."</p> +<p>Marion held her close. She had heard all the girl's story, had +shown her the most tender sympathy. And on this strange wedding +journey of hers she knew that she carried with her Diana's awed +love and yearning remembrance.</p> +<p>But now she was eager to be gone--to be alone again with her +best friend, in this breathing-space that remained to them.</p> +<p>So Diana saw them off--the shabby, handsome man, with his lean, +proud, sincere face, and the woman, so frail and white, yet so +indomitable. They carried various bags and parcels, mostly tied up +with string, which represented all their luggage; they travelled +with the peasants, fraternizing with them where they could; and it +was useless, as Diana saw, to press luxuries on either of them. +Many heads turned to look at them, in the streets or on the railway +platform. There was something tragic in their aspect; yet not a +trace of abjectness; nothing that asked for pity. When Diana last +caught sight of them, Marion had a <i>contadino's</i> child on her +knee, in the corner of a third-class carriage, and Frobisher +opposite--he spoke a fluent Italian--was laughing and jesting with +the father. Marion, smiling, waved her hand, and the train bore +them away.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The others moved to Perugia, and the hours they spent together +in the high and beautiful town were for all of them hours of +well-being. Diana was the centre of the group. In the eyes of the +three men her story invested her with a peculiar and touching +interest. Their knowledge of it, and her silent acceptance of their +knowledge, made a bond between her and them which showed itself in +a hundred ways. Neither Ferrier, nor Chide, nor young Forbes could +ever do too much for her, or think for her too loyally. And, on the +other hand, it was her inevitable perception of their unspoken +thoughts which gave her courage toward them--a kind of freedom +which it is very difficult for women to feel or exercise in the +ordinary circumstances of life. She gave them each--gratefully--a +bit of her heart, in different ways.</p> +<p>Bobbie had adopted her as elder sister, having none of his own; +and by now she knew all about his engagement, his distaste for the +Foreign Office, his lack of prospects there, and his determination +to change it for some less expensive and more remunerative calling. +But Lady Niton was the dragon in the path. She had all sorts of +ambitious projects for him, none of which, according to Forbes, +ever came off, there being always some better fellow to be had. +Diplomacy, in her eyes, was the natural sphere of a young man of +parts and family, and as for the money, if he would only show the +smallest signs of getting on, she would find it. But in the service +of his country Bobbie showed no signs whatever of "getting on." He +hinted uncomfortably, in his conversations with Diana, at the long +list of his obligations to Lady Niton--money lent, influence +exerted, services of many kinds--spread over four or five years, +ever since, after a chance meeting in a country-house, she had +appointed herself his earthly, providence, and he--an orphan of +good family, with a small income and extravagant tastes--had weakly +accepted her bounties.</p> +<p>"Now, of course, she insists on my marrying somebody with money. +As if any chaperon would look at me! Two years ago I did make up to +a nice girl--a real nice girl--and only a thousand a year!--nothing +so tremendous, after all. But her mother twice carried her off, in +the middle of a rattling ball, because she had engaged herself to +me--just like sending a naughty child to bed! And the next time the +mother made me take <i>her</i> down to supper, and expounded to me +her view of a chaperon's duties: 'My business, Mr. Forbes'--you +should have seen her stony eye--'is to <i>mar</i>, not to make. The +suitable marriages make themselves, or are made in heaven. I have +nothing to do with them, except to keep a fair field. The +unsuitable marriages have to be prevented, and will be prevented. +You understand me?' 'Perfectly,' I said. 'I understand perfectly. +To <i>mar</i> is human, and to make divine? Thank you. Have some +more jelly? No? Shall I ask for your carriage? Good-night.' But +Lady Niton won't believe a word of it! She thinks I've only to ask +and have. She'll be rude to Ettie, and I shall have to punch her +head--metaphorically. And how can you punch a person's head when +they've lent you money?"</p> +<p>Diana could only laugh, and commend him to his Ettie, who, to +judge from her letters, was a girl of sense, and might be trusted +to get him out of his scrape.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, Ferrier, the man of affairs, statesman, thinker, and +pessimist, found in his new friendship with Diana at once that +"agreement," that relaxation, which men of his sort can only find +in the society of those women who, without competing with them, can +yet by sympathy and native wit make their companionship abundantly +worth while; and also, a means, as it were, of vicarious amends, +which he very eagerly took.</p> +<p>He was, in fact, ashamed for Lady Lucy; humiliated, moreover, by +his own small influence with her in a vital matter. And both shame +and humiliation took the form of tender consideration for Lady +Lucy's victim.</p> +<p>It did not at all diminish the value of his kindness, that--most +humanly--it largely showed itself in what many people would have +considered egotistical confessions to a charming girl. Diana found +a constant distraction, a constant interest, in listening. Her +solitary life with her scholar father had prepared her for such a +friend. In the overthrow of love and feeling, she bravely tried to +pick up the threads of the old intellectual pleasures. And both +Ferrier and Chide, two of the ablest men of their generation, were +never tired of helping her thus to recover herself. Chide was an +admirable story-teller; and his mere daily life had stored him with +tales, humorous and grim; while Ferrier talked history and poetry, +as they strolled about Siena or Perugia; and, as he sat at night +among the letters of the day, had a score of interesting or amusing +comments to make upon the politics of the moment. He reserved his +"confessions," of course, for the +<i>tête-à-tête</i> of country walks. It was then +that Diana seemed to be holding in her girlish hands something very +complex and rare; a nature not easily to be understood by one so +much younger. His extraordinary gifts, his disinterested temper, +his astonishing powers of work raised him in her eyes to heroic +stature. And then some very human weakness, some natural vanity, +such as wives love and foster in their husbands, but which, in his +case appeared merely forlorn and eccentric--some deep note of +loneliness--would touch her heart, and rouse her pity. He talked +generally with an amazing confidence, not untouched perhaps with +arrogance, of the political struggle before him; believed he should +carry the country with him, and impose his policy on a divided +party. Yet again and again, amid the flow of hopeful speculation, +Diana became aware, as on the first evening of Assisi, of some +hidden and tragic doubt, both of fate and of himself, some +deep-rooted weariness, against which the energy of his talk seemed +to be perpetually reacting and protesting. And the solitariness and +meagreness of his life in all its personal and domestic aspects +appalled her. She saw him often as a great man--a really great +man--yet starved and shelterless--amid the storms that were beating +up around him.</p> +<p>The friendship between him and Chide appeared to be very close, +yet not a little surprising. They were old comrades in Parliament, +and Chide was in the main a whole-hearted supporter of Ferrier's +policy and views; resenting in particular, as Diana soon +discovered, Marsham's change of attitude. But the two men had +hardly anything else in common. Ferrier was an enormous reader, +most variously accomplished; while his political Whiggery was +balanced by a restless scepticism in philosophy and religion. For +the rest he was an ascetic, even in the stream of London life; he +cared nothing for most of the ordinary amusements; he played a vile +hand at whist (bridge had not yet dawned upon a waiting world); he +drank no wine, and was contentedly ignorant both of sport and +games.</p> +<p>Chide, on the other hand, was as innocent of books as Lord +Palmerston. All that was necessary for his career as a great +advocate he could possess himself of in the twinkling of an eye; +his natural judgment and acuteness were of the first order; his +powers of eloquence among the most famous of his time; but it is +doubtful whether Lady Niton would have found him much better +informed about the politics of her youth than Barton himself; Sir +James, too, was hazy about Louis Philippe, and could never +remember, in the order of Prime Ministers, whether Canning or Lord +Liverpool came first. With this, he was a simple and devout +Catholic; loved on his holiday to serve the mass of some poor +priest in a mountain valley; and had more than once been known to +carry off some lax Catholic junior on his circuit to the +performance of his Easter duties, willy-nilly--by a mixture of +magnetism and authority. For all games of chance he had a perfect +passion; would play whist all night, and conduct a case +magnificently all day. And although he was no sportsman in the +ordinary sense, having had no opportunities in a very penurious +youth, he had an Irishman's love of horseflesh, and knew the Derby +winners from the beginning with as much accuracy as Macaulay knew +the Senior Wranglers.</p> +<p>Yet the two men loved, respected, and understood each other. +Diana wondered secretly, indeed, whether Sir James could have +explained to her the bond between Ferrier and Lady Lucy. That, to +her inexperience, was a complete mystery! Almost every day Ferrier +wrote to Tallyn, and twice a week at least, as the letters were +delivered at <i>table d'hôte,</i> Diana could not help seeing +the long pointed writing on the thin black-edged paper which had +once been for her the signal of doom. She hardly suspected, indeed, +how often she herself made the subject of the man's letters. +Ferrier wrote of her persistently to Lady Lucy, being determined +that so much punishment at least should be meted out to that lady. +The mistress of Tallyn, on her side, never mentioned the name of +Miss Mallory. All the pages in his letters which concerned her +might never have been written, and he was well aware that not a +word of them would ever reach Oliver. Diana's pale and saddened +beauty; the dignity which grief, tragic grief, free from all sordid +or ignoble elements, can infuse into a personality; the affection +she inspired, the universal sympathy that was felt for her: he +dwelt on these things, till Lady Lucy, exasperated, could hardly +bring herself to open the envelopes which contained his +lucubrations. Could any subject, in correspondence with herself, be +more unfitting or more futile?--and what difference could it all +possibly make to the girl's shocking antecedents?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>One radiant afternoon, after a long day of sight-seeing, Diana +and Mrs. Colwood retreated to their rooms to write letters and to +rest; Forbes was hotly engaged in bargaining for an Umbrian +<i>primitif</i>, which he had just discovered in an old house in a +back street, whither, no doubt, the skilful antiquario had that +morning transported it from his shop; and Sir James had gone out +for a stroll, on the splendid road which winds gradually down the +hill on which Perugia stands, to the tomb of the Volumnii, on the +edge of the plain, and so on to Assisi and Foligno, in the blue +distance.</p> +<p>Half-way down he met Ferrier, ascending from the tomb. Sir James +turned, and they strolled back together. The Umbrian landscape +girdling the superb town showed itself unveiled. Every gash on the +torn white sides of the eastern Apennines, every tint of purple or +porcelain-blue on the nearer hills, every plane of the smiling +valley as it wound southward, lay bathed in a broad and searching +light which yet was a light of beauty--of infinite illusion.</p> +<p>"I must say I have enjoyed my life," said Ferrier, abruptly, as +they paused to look back, "though I don't put it altogether in the +first class!"</p> +<p>Sir James raised his eyebrows--smiled--and did not immediately +reply.</p> +<p>"Chide, old fellow," Ferrier resumed, turning to him, "before I +left England I signed my will. Do you object that I have named you +one of the two executors?"</p> +<p>Sir James gave him a cordial glance.</p> +<p>"All right, I'll do my best--if need arises. I suppose, Johnnie, +you're a rich man?"</p> +<p>The name "Johnnie," very rarely heard between them, went back to +early days at the Bar, when Ferrier was for a time in the same +chambers with the young Irishman who, within three years of being +called, was making a large income; whereas Ferrier had very soon +convinced himself that the Bar was not for him, nor he for the Bar, +and being a man of means had "plumped" for politics.</p> +<p>"Yes, I'm not badly off," said Ferrier; "I'm almost the last of +my family; and a lot of money has found its way to me first and +last. It's been precious difficult to know what to do with it. If +Oliver Marsham had stuck to that delightful girl I should have left +it to him."</p> +<p>Sir James made a growling sound, more expressive than +articulate.</p> +<p>"As it is," Ferrier resumed, "I have left half of it to my old +Oxford college, and half to the University."</p> +<p>Chide nodded. Presently a slight flush rose in his very clear +complexion, and he looked round on his companion with sparkling +eyes.</p> +<p>"It is odd that you should have started this subject. I too have +just signed a new will."</p> +<p>"Ah!" Ferrier's broad countenance showed a very human curiosity. +"I believe you are scarcely more blessed with kindred than I?"</p> +<p>"No. In the main I could please myself. I have left the bulk of +what I had to leave--to Miss Mallory."</p> +<p>"Excellent!" cried Ferrier. "She treats you already like a +daughter."</p> +<p>"She is very kind to me," said Sir James, with a touch of +ceremony that became him. "And there is no one in whom I feel a +deeper interest."</p> +<p>"She must be made happy!" exclaimed Ferrier--"she <i>must</i>! +Is there no one--besides Oliver?"</p> +<p>Sir James drew himself up. "I hope she has put all thought of +Oliver out of her mind long since. Well!--I had a letter from Lady +Felton last week--dear woman that!--all the love-affairs in the +county come to roost in her mind. She talks of young Roughsedge. +Perhaps you don't know anything of the gentleman?"</p> +<p>He explained, so far as his own knowledge went. Ferrier listened +attentively. A soldier? Good. Handsome, modest, and +capable?--better. Had just distinguished himself in this Nigerian +expedition--mentioned in despatches last week. Better still!--so +long as he kept clear of the folly of allowing himself to be +killed. But as to the feelings of the young lady?</p> +<p>Sir James sighed. "I sometimes see in her traces of--of +inheritance--which make one anxious."</p> +<p>Ferrier's astonishment showed itself in mouth and eyes.</p> +<p>"What I mean is," said Sir James, hastily, "a dramatic, +impassioned way of looking at things. It would never do if she were +to get any damned nonsense about 'expiation,' or not being free to +marry, into her head."</p> +<p>Ferrier agreed, but a little awkwardly, since the "damned +nonsense" was Lady Lucy's nonsense, and both knew it.</p> +<p>They walked slowly back to Assisi, first putting their elderly +heads together a little further on the subject of Diana, and then +passing on to the politics of the moment--to the ever present +subject of the party revolt, and its effect on the election.</p> +<p>"Pshaw!--let them attack you as they please!" said Chide, after +they had talked awhile. "You are safe enough. There is no one else. +You are like the hero in a novel, 'the indispensable.'"</p> +<p>Ferrier laughed.</p> +<p>"Don't be so sure. There is always a 'supplanter'--when the time +is ripe."</p> +<p>"Where is he? Who is he?"</p> +<p>"I had a very curious letter from Lord Philip this morning," +said Ferrier, thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Chide's expression changed.</p> +<p>Lord Philip Darcy, a brilliant but quite subordinate member of +the former Liberal Government, had made but occasional appearances +in Parliament during the five years' rule of the Tories. He was a +traveller and explorer, and when in England a passionate votary of +the Turf. An incisive tongue, never more amusing than when it was +engaged in railing at the English workman and democracy in general, +a handsome person, and a strong leaning to Ritualism--these +qualities and distinctions had not for some time done much to +advance his Parliamentary position. But during the preceding +session he had been more regular in his attendance at the House, +and had made a considerable impression there--as a man of +eccentric, but possibly great ability. On the whole, he had been a +loyal supporter of Ferrier's; but in two or three recent speeches +there had been signs of coquetting with the extremists.</p> +<p>Ferrier, having mentioned the letter, relapsed into silence. Sir +James, with a little contemptuous laugh, inquired what the nature +of the letter might be.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, he wants certain pledges." Ferrier drew the letter +from his pocket, and handed it to his friend. Sir James perused it, +and handed it back with a sarcastic lip.</p> +<p>"He imagines you are going to accept that programme?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. But it is clear that the letter implies a threat +if I don't."</p> +<p>"A threat of desertion? Let him."</p> +<p>"That letter wasn't written off his own bat. There is a good +deal behind it. The plot, in fact, is thickening. From the letters +of this morning I see that a regular press campaign is +beginning."</p> +<p>He mentioned two party papers which had already gone over to the +dissidents--one of some importance, the other of none.</p> +<p>"All right," said Chide; "so long as the <i>Herald</i> and the +<i>Flag</i> do their duty. By-the-way, hasn't the <i>Herald</i> got +a new editor?"</p> +<p>"Yes; a man called Barrington--a friend of Oliver's."</p> +<p>"Ah!--a good deal sounder on many points than Oliver!" grumbled +Sir James.</p> +<p>Ferrier did not reply.</p> +<p>Chide noticed the invariable way in which Marsham's name dropped +between them whenever it was introduced in this connection.</p> +<p>As they neared the gate of the town they parted, Chide returning +to the hotel, while Ferrier, the most indefatigable of sight-seers, +hurried off toward San Pietro.</p> +<p>He spent a quiet hour on the Peruginos, deciding, however, with +himself in the end that they gave him but a moderate pleasure; and +then came out again into the glow of an incomparable evening. +Something in the light and splendor of the scene, as he lingered on +the high terrace, hanging over the plain, looking down as though +from the battlements, the <i>flagrantia moenia</i> of some +celestial city, challenged the whole life and virility of the +man.</p> +<p>"Yet what ails me?" he thought to himself, curiously, and quite +without anxiety. "It is as though I were listening--for the +approach of some person or event--as though a door were open--or +about to open--"</p> +<p>What more natural?--in this pause before the fight? And yet +politics seemed to have little to do with it. The expectancy seemed +to lie deeper, in a region of the soul to which none were or ever +had been admitted, except some friends of his Oxford youth--long +since dead.</p> +<p>And, suddenly, the contest which lay before him appeared to him +under a new aspect, bathed in a broad philosophic air; a light +serene and transforming, like the light of the Umbrian evening. Was +it not possibly true that he had no future place as the leader of +English Liberalism? Forces were welling up in its midst, forces of +violent and revolutionary change, with which it might well be he +had no power to cope. He saw himself, in a waking dream, as one of +the last defenders of a lost position. The day of Utopias was +dawning; and what has the critical mind to do with Utopias? Yet if +men desire to attempt them, who shall stay them?</p> +<p>Barton, McEwart, Lankester--with their boundless faith in the +power of a few sessions and measures to remake this old, old +England--with their impatiences, their readiness at any moment to +fling some wild arrow from the string, amid the crowded +long-descended growths of English life: he felt a strong +intellectual contempt both for their optimisms and +audacities--mingled, perhaps; with a certain envy.</p> +<p>Sadness and despondency returned. His hand sought in his pocket +for the little volume of Leopardi which he had taken out with him. +On that king of pessimists, that prince of all despairs, he had +just spent half an hour among the olives. Could renunciation of +life and contempt of the human destiny go further?</p> +<p>Well, Leopardi's case was not his. It was true, what he had said +to Chide. With all drawbacks, he had enjoyed his life, had found it +abundantly worth living.</p> +<p>And, after all, was not Leopardi himself a witness to the life +he rejected, to the Nature he denounced. Ferrier recalled his cry +to his brother: "Love me, Carlo, for God's sake! I need love, love, +love!--fire, enthusiasm, life."</p> +<p>"<i>Fire, enthusiasm, life</i>." Does the human lot contain +these things, or no? If it does, have the gods mocked us, after +all?</p> +<p>Pondering these great words, Ferrier strolled homeward, while +the outpouring of the evening splendor died from Perusia Augusta, +and the mountains sank deeper into the gold and purple of the +twilight.</p> +<p>As for love, he had missed it long ago. But existence was still +rich, still full of savor, so long as a man's will held his grip on +men and circumstance.</p> +<p>All action, he thought, is the climbing of a precipice, upheld +above infinity by one slender sustaining rope. Call it what we +like--will, faith, ambition, the wish to live--in the end it fails +us all. And in that moment, when we begin to imagine how and when +it may fail us, we hear, across the sea of time, the first phantom +tolling of the funeral bell.</p> +<p>There were times now when he seemed to feel the cold approaching +breath of such a moment. But they were still invariably succeeded +by a passionate recoil of life and energy. By the time he reached +the hotel he was once more plunged in all the preoccupations, the +schemes, the pugnacities of the party leader.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>A month later, on an evening toward the end of June, Dr. +Roughsedge, lying reading in the shade of his little garden, saw +his wife approaching. He raised himself with alacrity.</p> +<p>"You've seen her?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>With this monosyllabic answer Mrs. Roughsedge seated herself, +and slowly untied her bonnet-strings.</p> +<p>"My dear, you seem discomposed."</p> +<p>"I hate <i>men</i>!" said Mrs. Roughsedge, vehemently.</p> +<p>The doctor raised his eyebrows. "I apologize for my existence. +But you might go so far as to explain."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge was silent.</p> +<p>"How is that child?" said the doctor, abruptly. "Come!--I am as +fond of her as you are."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge raised her handkerchief.</p> +<p>"That any man with a heart--" she began, in a stifled voice.</p> +<p>"Why you should speculate on anything so abnormal!" cried the +doctor, impatiently. "I suppose your remark applies to Oliver +Marsham. Is she breaking her own heart?--that's all that +signifies."</p> +<p>"She is extremely well and cheerful."</p> +<p>"Well, then, what's the matter?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge looked out of the window, twisting her +handkerchief.</p> +<p>"Nothing--only--everything seems done and finished."</p> +<p>"At twenty-two?" The doctor laughed, "And it's not quite four +months yet since the poor thing discovered that her doll was +stuffed with sawdust. Really, Patricia!"</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge slowly shook her head.</p> +<p>"I suspect what it all means," said her husband, "is that she +did not show as much interest as she ought in Hugh's +performance."</p> +<p>"She was most kind, and asked me endless questions. She made me +promise to bring her the press-cuttings and read her his letters. +She could not possibly have shown more sympathy."</p> +<p>"H'm!--well, I give it up."</p> +<p>"Henry!"--his wife turned upon him--"I am convinced that poor +child will never marry!"</p> +<p>"Give her time, my dear, and don't talk nonsense!"</p> +<p>"It isn't nonsense! I tell you I felt just as I did when I went +to see Mary Theed, years ago--you remember that pretty cousin of +mine who became a Carmelite nun?--for the first time after she had +taken the veil. She spoke to one from another world--it gave one +the shivers!--and was just as smiling and cheerful over it as +Diana--and it was just as ghastly and unbearable and abominable--as +this is."</p> +<p>"Well, then," said the doctor, after a pause, "I suppose she'll +take to good works. I hope you can provide her with a lot of +hopeless cases in the village. Did she mention Marsham at all?"</p> +<p>"Not exactly. But she asked about the election--"</p> +<p>"The writs are out," interrupted the doctor. "I see the first +borough elections are fixed for three weeks hence; ours will be one +of the last of the counties; six weeks to-day."</p> +<p>"I told her you thought he would get in."</p> +<p>"Yes--by the skin of his teeth. All his real popularity has +vanished like smoke. But there's the big estate--and his mother's +money--and the collieries."</p> +<p>"The Vicar tells me the colliers are discontented--all through +the district--and there may be a big strike--"</p> +<p>"Yes, perhaps in the autumn, when the three years' agreement +comes to an end--not yet. Marsham's vote will run down heavily in +the mining villages, but it'll serve--this time. They won't put the +other man in."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge rose to take off her things, remarking, as she +moved away, that Marsham was said to be holding meetings nightly +already, and that Lady Lucy and Miss Drake were both hard at +work.</p> +<p>"Miss Drake?" said the doctor, looking up. "Handsome girl! I saw +Marsham in a dog-cart with her yesterday afternoon."</p> +<p>Mrs. Roughsedge flushed an angry red, but she said nothing. She +was encumbered with parcels, and her husband rose to open the door +for her. He stooped and looked into her face.</p> +<p>"You didn't say anything about <i>that</i>, Patricia, I'll be +bound!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, Diana was wandering about the Beechcote garden, with +her hands full of roses, just gathered. The garden glowed under the +westering sun. In the field just below it the silvery lines of +new-cut hay lay hot and fragrant in the quivering light. The woods +on the hill-side were at the richest moment of their new life, the +earth-forces swelling and rioting through every root and branch, +wild roses climbing every hedge--the miracle of summer at its +height.</p> +<p>Diana sat down upon a grass-bank, to look and dream. The flowers +dropped beside her; she propped her face on her hands.</p> +<p>The home-coming had been hard. And perhaps the element in it she +had felt most difficult to bear had been the universal sympathy +with which she had been greeted. It spoke from the faces of the +poor--the men and women, the lads and girls of the village; with +their looks of curiosity, sometimes frank, sometimes furtive or +embarrassed. It was more politely disguised in the manners and +tones of the gentle people; but everywhere it was evident; and +sometimes it was beyond her endurance.</p> +<p>She could not help imagining the talk about her in her absence; +the discussion of the case in the country-houses or in the village. +To the village people, unused to the fine discussions which turn on +motive and environment, and slow to revise an old opinion, she was +just the daughter--</p> +<p>She covered her eyes--one hideous word ringing brutally, +involuntarily, through her brain. By a kind of miserable obsession +the talk in the village public-houses shaped itself in her mind. +"Ay, they didn't hang her because she was a lady. She got off, +trust her! But if it had been you or me--"</p> +<p>She rose, trembling, trying to shake off the horror, walking +vaguely through the garden into the fields, as though to escape it. +But the horror pursued her, only in different forms. Among the +educated people--people who liked dissecting "interesting" or +"mysterious" crimes--there had been no doubt long discussions of +Sir James Chide's letter to the <i>Times</i>, of Sir Francis Wing's +confession. But through all the talk, rustic or refined, she heard +the name of her mother bandied; forever soiled and dishonored; with +no right to privacy or courtesy any more--"Juliet Sparling" to all +the world: the loafer at the street corner--the drunkard in the +tavern--</p> +<p>The thought of this vast publicity, this careless or cruel scorn +of the big world--toward one so frail, so anguished, so helpless in +death--clutched Diana many times in each day and night. And it led +to that perpetual image in the mind which we saw haunting her in +the first hours of her grief, as though she carried her dying +mother in her arms, passionately clasping and protecting her, their +faces turned to each other, and hidden from all eyes besides.</p> +<p>Also, it deadened in her the sense of her own case--in relation +to the gossip of the neighborhood. Ostrich-like, she persuaded +herself that not many people could have known anything about her +five days' engagement. Dear kind folk like the Roughsedges would +not talk of it, nor Lady Lucy surely. And Oliver +himself--never!</p> +<p>She had reached a point in the field walk where the hill-side +opened to her right, and the little winding path was disclosed +which had been to her on that mild February evening the path of +Paradise. She stood still a moment, looking upward, the deep sob of +loss rising in her throat.</p> +<p>But she wrestled with herself, and presently turned back to the +house, calm and self-possessed. There were things to be thankful +for. She knew the worst. And she felt herself singularly set +free--from ordinary conventions and judgments. Nobody could ever +quarrel with her if, now that she had come back, she lived her own +life in her own way. Nobody could blame her--surely most people +would approve her--if she stood aloof from ordinary society, and +ordinary gayeties for a while, at any rate. Oh! she would do +nothing singular or rude. But she was often tired and weak--not +physically, but in mind. Mrs. Roughsedge knew--and Muriel.</p> +<p>Dear Hugh Roughsedge!--he was indeed a faithful understanding +friend. She was proud of his letters; she was proud of his conduct +in the short campaign just over; she looked forward to his return +in the autumn. But he must not cherish foolish thoughts or wishes. +She would never marry. What Lady Lucy said was true. She had +probably no right to marry. She stood apart.</p> +<p>But--but--she must not be asked yet to give herself to any great +mission--any set task of charity or philanthropy. Her poor heart +fluttered within her at the thought, and she clung gratefully to +the recollection of Marion's imperious words to her. That +exaltation with which, in February, she had spoken to the Vicar of +going to the East End to work had dropped--quite dropped.</p> +<p>Of course, there was a child in the village--a dear child--ill +and wasting--in a spinal jacket, for whom one would do +anything--just anything! And there was Betty Dyson--plucky, +cheerful old soul. But that was another matter.</p> +<p>What, she asked, had she to give the poor? She wanted guiding +and helping and putting in the right way herself. She could not +preach to any one--wrestle with any one. And ought one to make out +of others' woes plasters for one's own? To use the poor as the +means of a spiritual "cure" seemed a dubious indecent thing; more +than a touch in it of arrogance--or sacrilege.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile she had been fighting her fight in the old ways. She +had been falling back on her education, appealing to books and +thought, reminding herself of what the life of the mind had been to +her father in his misery, and of those means of cultivating it to +which he would certainly have commended her. She was trying to +learn a new foreign language, and, under Marion Vincent's urging, +the table in the little sitting-room was piled with books on social +and industrial matters, which she diligently read and pondered.</p> +<p>It was all struggle and effort. But it had brought her some +reward. And especially through Marion Vincent's letters, and +through the long day with Marion in London, which she had now to +look back upon. For Miss Vincent and Frobisher had returned, and +Marion was once more in her Stepney rooms. She was apparently not +much worse; would allow no talk about herself; and though she had +quietly relinquished all her old activities, her room was still the +centre it had long been for the London thinker and reformer.</p> +<p>Diana found there an infinity to learn. The sages and saints, it +seemed, are of all sides and all opinions. That had not been the +lesson of her youth. In a comforting heat of prejudice her father +had found relief from suffering, and his creeds had been fused with +her young blood. Lately she had seen their opposites embodied in a +woman from whom she shrank in repulsion--whose name never passed +her lips--Oliver's sister--who had trampled on her in her misery. +Yet here, in Marion's dingy lodging, she saw the very same ideas +which Isabel Fotheringham made hateful, clothed in light, speaking +from the rugged or noble faces of men and women who saw in them the +salvation of their kind.</p> +<p>The intellect in Diana, the critical instinct resisted. And, +moreover, to have abandoned any fraction of the conservative and +traditional beliefs in which she had been reared was impossible for +her of all women; it would have seemed to her that she was thereby +leaving those two suffering ones, whom only her love sheltered, +still lonelier in death. So, beneath the clatter of talk and +opinion, run the deep omnipotent tides of our real being.</p> +<p>But if the mind resisted, the heart felt, and therewith, the +soul--that total personality which absorbs and transmutes the +contradictions of life--grew kinder and gentler within her.</p> +<p>One day, after a discussion on votes for women which had taken +place beside Marion's sofa, Diana, when the talkers were gone, had +thrown herself on her friend.</p> +<p>"Dear, you can't wish it!--you can't believe it! To +brutalize--unsex us!"</p> +<p>Marion raised herself on her elbow, and looked down the narrow +cross street beneath the windows of her lodging. It was a stifling +evening. The street was strewn with refuse, the odors from it +filled the room. Ragged children with smeared faces were sitting or +playing listlessly in the gutters. The public-house at the corner +was full of animation, and women were passing in and out. Through +the roar of traffic from the main street beyond a nearer sound +persisted: a note of wailing--the wailing of babes.</p> +<p>"There are the unsexed!" said Marion, panting. "Is their +brutalization the price we pay for our refinement?" Then, as she +sank back: "Try anything--everything--to change that."</p> +<p>Diana pressed the speaker's hand to her lips.</p> +<p>But from Marion Vincent, the girl's thoughts, as she wandered in +the summer garden, had passed on to the news which Mrs. Roughsedge +had brought her. Oliver was speaking every night, almost, in the +villages round Beechcote. Last week he had spoken at Beechcote +itself. Since Mrs. Roughsedge's visit, Diana had borrowed the local +paper from Brown, and had read two of Oliver's speeches therein +reported. As she looked up to the downs, or caught through the +nearer trees the lines of distant woods, it was as though the whole +scene--earth and air--were once more haunted for her by Oliver--his +presence--his voice. Beechcote lay on the high-road from Tallyn to +Dunscombe, the chief town of the division. Several times a week, at +least, he must pass the gate. At any moment they might meet face to +face.</p> +<p>The sooner the better! Unless she abandoned Beechcote, they must +learn to meet on the footing of ordinary acquaintances; and it were +best done quickly.</p> +<p>Voices on the lawn! Diana, peeping through the trees, beheld the +Vicar in conversation with Muriel Colwood. She turned and fled, +pausing at last in the deepest covert of the wood, breathless and a +little ashamed.</p> +<p>She had seen him once since her return. Everybody was so kind to +her, the Vicar, the Miss Bertrams--everybody; only the pity and the +kindness burned so. She wrestled with these feelings in the wood, +but she none the less kept a thick screen between herself and Mr. +Lavery.</p> +<p>She could never forget that night of her misery when--good man +that he was!--he had brought her the message of his faith.</p> +<p>But the great melting moments of life are rare, and the tracts +between are full of small frictions. What an incredible sermon he +had preached on the preceding Sunday! That any minister of the +national church--representing all sorts and conditions of +men--should think it right to bring his party politics into the +pulpit in that way! Unseemly! unpardonable!</p> +<p>Her dark eyes flashed--and then clouded. She had walked home +from the sermon in a heat of wrath, had straightway sought out some +blue ribbon, and made Tory rosettes for herself and her dog. Muriel +had laughed--had been delighted to see her doing it.</p> +<p>But the rosettes were put away now--thrown into the bottom of a +drawer. She would never wear them.</p> +<p>The Vicar, it seemed, was no friend of Oliver's--would not vote +for him, and had been trying to induce the miners at Hartingfield +to run a Labor man. On the other hand, she understood that the +Ferrier party in the division were dissatisfied with him on quite +other grounds: that they reproached him with a leaning to violent +and extreme views, and with a far too lukewarm support of the +leader of the party and the leader's policy. The local papers were +full of grumbling letters to that effect.</p> +<p>Her brow knit over Oliver's difficulties. The day before, Mr. +Lavery, meeting Muriel in the village street, had suggested that +Miss Mallory might lend him the barn for a Socialist meeting--a +meeting, in fact, for the harassing and heckling of Oliver.</p> +<p>Had he come now to urge the same plea again? A woman's politics +were not, of course, worth remembering!</p> +<p>She moved on to a point where, still hidden, she could see the +lawn. The Vicar was in full career; the harsh creaking voice came +to her from the distance. What an awkward unhandsome figure, with +his long, lank countenance, his large ears and spectacled eyes! Yet +an apostle, she admitted, in his way--a whole-hearted, +single-minded gentleman. But the barn he should not have.</p> +<p>She watched him depart, and then slowly emerged from her +hiding-place. Muriel, putting loving hands on her shoulders, looked +at her with eyes that mocked a little--tenderly.</p> +<p>"Yes, I know," said Diana--"I know. I shirked. Did he want the +barn?"</p> +<p>"Oh no. I convinced him, the other day, you were past praying +for."</p> +<p>"Was he shocked? 'It is a serious thing for women to throw +themselves across the path of progress,'" said Diana, in a queer +voice.</p> +<p>Muriel looked at her, puzzled. Diana reddened, and kissed +her.</p> +<p>"What did he want, then?"</p> +<p>"He came to ask whether you would take the visiting of Fetter +Lane--and a class in Sunday-school."</p> +<p>Diana gasped.</p> +<p>"What did you say?"</p> +<p>"Never mind. He went away quelled."</p> +<p>"No doubt he thought I ought to be glad to be set to work."</p> +<p>"Oh! they are all masterful--that sort."</p> +<p>Diana walked on.</p> +<p>"I suppose he gossiped about the election?"</p> +<p>"Yes. He has all sorts of stories--about the mines--and the +Tallyn estates," said Muriel, unwillingly.</p> +<p>Diana's look flashed.</p> +<p>"Do you believe he has any power of collecting evidence fairly? +I don't. He sees what he wants to see."</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood agreed; but did not feel called upon to confirm +Diana's view by illustrations. She kept Mr. Lavery's talk to +herself.</p> +<p>Presently, as the evening fell, Diana sitting under the limes +watching the shadows lengthen on the new-mown grass, wondered +whether she had any mind--any opinions of her own at all. Her +father; Oliver; Mr. Ferrier; Marion Vincent--she saw and felt with +them all in turn. In the eyes of a Mrs. Fotheringham could anything +be more despicable?</p> +<p>The sun was sinking when she stole out of the garden with some +flowers and peaches for Betty Dyson. Her frequent visits to Betty's +cottage were often the bright spots in her day. With her, almost +alone among the poor people, Diana was conscious of no greedy +curiosity behind the spoken words. Yet Betty was the living +chronicle of the village, and what she did not know about its +inhabitants was not worth knowing.</p> +<p>Diana found her white and suffering as usual, but so bubbling +with news that she had no patience either with her own ailments or +with the peaches. Waving both aside, she pounced imperiously upon +her visitor, her queer yellowish eyes aglow with "eventful +living."</p> +<p>"Did you hear of old Tom Murthly dropping dead in the medder +last Thursday?"</p> +<p>Diana had just heard of the death of the eccentric old man who +for fifty years--bachelor and miser--had inhabited a dilapidated +house in the village.</p> +<p>"Well, he did. Yo may take it at that--yo may." (A mysterious +phrase, equivalent, no doubt, to the masculine oath.) "'Ee 'ad a +lot of money--Tom 'ad. Them two 'ouses was 'is what stands right +be'ind Learoyds', down the village."</p> +<p>"Who will they go to now, Betty?"</p> +<p>Betty's round, shapeless countenance, furrowed and scarred by +time, beamed with the joy of communication.</p> +<p>"<i>Chancery!</i>" she said, nodding. "Chancery'll 'ave 'em, in +a twelvemonth's time from now, if Mrs. Jack Murthly's Tom--young +Tom--don't claim 'em from South Africa--and the Lord knows where +<i>ee</i> is!"</p> +<p>Diana tried to follow, held captive by a tyrannical pair of +eyes.</p> +<p>"And what relation is Mrs. Jack Murthly to the man who +died?"</p> +<p>"Brother's wife!" said Betty, sharply. "I thought you'd ha' +known that."</p> +<p>"But if nothing is heard of the son, Betty--of young Tom--Mrs. +Murthly's two daughters will have the cottages, won't they?"</p> +<p>Betty's scorn made her rattle her stick on the flagged +floor.</p> +<p>"They ain't daughters!--they're only 'alves."</p> +<p>"Halves?" said Diana, bewildered.</p> +<p>"Jack Murthly worn't their father!" A fresh shower of nods. "Yo +may take it at that!"</p> +<p>"Well, then, who--?"</p> +<p>Betty bent hastily forward--Diana had placed herself on a stool +before her--and, thrusting out her wrinkled lips, said, in a hoarse +whisper:</p> +<p>"Two fathers!"</p> +<p>There was a silence.</p> +<p>"I don't understand, Betty," said Diana, softly.</p> +<p>"Jack was '<i>is</i> father, all right--Tom's in South Africa. +But he worn't <i>their</i> father, Mrs. Jack bein' a widder--or +said so. They're only 'alves--and 'alves ain't no good in law; so +inter Chancery those 'ouses 'll go, come a twelvemonth--yo may take +it at that!" Diana laughed--a young spontaneous laugh--the first +since she had come home. She kept Betty gossiping for half an hour, +and as the stream of the village life poured about her, in Betty's +racy speech, it was as though some primitive virtue entered into +her and cheered her--some bracing voice from the +Earth-spirit--whose purpose is not missed</p> +<blockquote>"If birth proceeds--if things subsist."</blockquote> +<p>She rose at last, held Betty's hand tenderly, and went her way, +conscious of a return of natural pleasure, such as Italy had never +brought her, her heart opening afresh to England and the English +life.</p> +<p>Perhaps she would find at home a letter from Mr. Ferrier--her +dear, famous friend, who never forgot her, ignorant as she was of +the great affairs in which he was plunged. But she meant to be +ignorant no longer. No more brooding and dreaming! It was pleasant +to remember that Sir James Chide had taken a furnished +house--Lytchett Manor--only a few miles from Beechcote, and that +Mr. Ferrier was to be his guest there as soon as politics allowed. +For her, Diana, that was well, for if he were at Tallyn they could +have met but seldom if at all.</p> +<p>She had made a round through a distant and sequestered lane in +order to prolong her walk. Presently she came to a deep cutting in +the chalk, where the road, embowered in wild roses and clematis, +turned sharply at the foot of a hill. As she approached the turn +she heard sounds--a man's voice. Her heart suddenly failed her. She +looked to either side--no gate, no escape. Nothing for it but to go +forward. She turned the corner.</p> +<p>Before her was a low pony carriage which Alicia Drake was +driving. It was drawn up by the side of the road, and Alicia sat in +it, laughing and talking, while Oliver Marsham gathered a bunch of +wild roses from the road-side. As Diana appeared, and before either +of them saw her, Marsham returned to the carriage, his hands full +of flowers.</p> +<p>"Will that content you? I have torn myself to ribbons for +you!"</p> +<p>"Oh, don't expect too much gratitude--<i>Oliver!</i>" The last +word was low and hurried. Alicia gathered up the reins hastily, and +Marsham looked round him--startled.</p> +<p>He saw a tall and slender girl coming toward them, accompanied +by a Scotch collie. She bowed to him and to Alicia, and passed +quickly on.</p> +<p>"Never mind any more roses," said Alicia. "We ought to get +home."</p> +<p>They drove toward Tallyn in silence. Alicia's startling hat of +white muslin framed the red gold of her hair, and the brilliant +color--assisted here and there by rouge--of her cheeks and lips. +She said presently, in a sympathetic voice:</p> +<p>"How sorry one is for her!"</p> +<p>Marsham made no reply. They passed into the darkness of +overarching trees, and there, veiled from him in the green +twilight, Alicia no longer checked the dancing triumph in her +eyes.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<br> +<p>One Saturday in early August, some weeks after the incident +described in the last chapter, Bobbie Forbes, in the worst inn's +worst fly, such being the stress and famine of election time, drove +up to the Tallyn front door. It was the day after the polling, and +Tallyn, with its open windows and empty rooms, had the look of a +hive from which the bees have swarmed. According to the butler, +only Lady Niton was at home, and the household was eagerly awaiting +news of the declaration of the poll at Dunscombe Town Hall. Lady +Niton, indeed, was knitting in the drawing-room.</p> +<p>"Capital!--to find you alone," said Bobbie, taking a seat beside +her. "All the others at Dunscombe, I hear. And no news yet?"</p> +<p>Lady Niton, who had given him one inky finger--(a pile of +letters just completed lay beside her)--shook her head, looking him +critically up and down the while.</p> +<p>The critical eye, however, was more required in her own case. +She was untidily dressed, as usual, in a shabby black gown; her +brown "front" was a little displaced, and her cap awry; and her +fingers had apparently been badly worsted in a struggle with her +pen. Yet her diminutive figure in the drawing-room--such is the +power of personality--made a social place of it at once.</p> +<p>"I obeyed your summons," Bobbie continued, "though I'm sure Lady +Lucy didn't want to invite me with all this hubbub going on. Well, +what do you prophesy? They told me at the station that the result +would be out by two o'clock. I very nearly went to the Town Hall, +but the fact is everybody's so nervous I funked it. If Oliver's +kicked out, the fewer tears over spilled milk the better."</p> +<p>"He won't be kicked out."</p> +<p>"Don't make too sure! I have been hearing the most dismal +reports. The Ferrierites hate him much worse than if he'd gone +against them openly. And the fellows he really agrees with don't +love him much better."</p> +<p>"All the same he will get in; and if he don't get office now he +will in a few years."</p> +<p>"Oliver must be flattered that you believe in him so."</p> +<p>"I don't believe in him at all," said Lady Niton, sharply. +"Every country has the politicians it deserves."</p> +<p>Bobbie grinned.</p> +<p>"I don't find you a democrat yet."</p> +<p>"I'm just as much of one as anybody in this house, for all their +fine talk. Only they pretend to like being governed by their +plumbers and gas-fitters, and I don't."</p> +<p>"I hear that Oliver's speeches have been extremely good."</p> +<p>"H'm--all about the poor," said Lady Niton, releasing her hand +from the knitting-needles, and waving it scornfully at the room in +which they sat. "Well, if Oliver were to tell me from now till +doomsday that his heart bled for the poor, I shouldn't believe him. +It doesn't bleed. He is as comfortable in his middle region as you +or I."</p> +<p>Bobbie laughed.</p> +<p>"Now look here, I'm simply famished for gossip, and I must have +it." Lady Niton's ball of wool fell on the floor. Bobbie pounced +upon it, and put it in his pocket. "A hostage! Surrender--and talk +to me! Do you belong to the Mallory faction--or don't you?"</p> +<p>"Give me my ball, sir--and don't dare to mention that girl's +name in this house."</p> +<p>Bobbie opened his eyes.</p> +<p>"I say!--what did you mean by writing to me like that if you +weren't on the right side?"</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"You can't have gone over to Lady Lucy and the Fotheringham +woman!"</p> +<p>Lady Niton looked at him with a queer expression of contempt in +her tanned and crumpled face.</p> +<p>"Is that the only reason you can imagine for my not permitting +you to talk of Diana Mallory in this house?"</p> +<p>Bobbie, looked puzzled. Then a light broke.</p> +<p>"I see! You mean the house isn't good enough? Precisely! What's +up. Alicia? <i>No</i>!"</p> +<p>Lady Niton laughed.</p> +<p>"He has been practically engaged to her for two years. He didn't +know it, of course--he hadn't an idea of it. But Alicia knew it. +Oh! she allowed him his amusements. The Mallory girl was one of +them. If the Sparling story hadn't broken it off, something else +would. I don't believe Alicia ever alarmed herself."</p> +<p>"Are they engaged?"</p> +<p>"Not formally. I dare say it won't be announced till the +autumn," said his companion, indifferently. Then seeing that +Bobbie's attention was diverted, she made a dash with one skinny +hand at his coat-pocket, abstracted the ball of wool, and +triumphantly returned to her knitting.</p> +<p>"Mean!" said Bobbie. "You caught me off guard. Well, I wish them +joy. Of course, I've always liked Marsham, and I'm very sorry he's +got himself into such a mess. But as for Alicia, there's no love +lost between us. I hear Miss Mallory's at Beechcote."</p> +<p>Lady Niton replied that she had only been three days in the +house, that she had asked--ostentatiously--for a carriage the day +before to take her to call at Beechcote, and had been refused. +Everything, it seemed, was wanted for election purposes. But she +understood that Miss Mallory was quite well and not breaking her +heart at all. At the present moment she was the most popular person +in Brookshire, and would be the most petted, if she would allow it. +But she and Mrs. Colwood lived a very quiet life, and were never to +be seen at the tea and garden parties in which the neighborhood +abounded.</p> +<p>"Plucky of her to come back here!" said Bobbie. "And how's Lady +Lucy?"</p> +<p>Lady Niton moved impatiently.</p> +<p>"Lucy would be all right if her son wouldn't join a set of +traitors in jockeying the man who put him into Parliament, and has +been Lucy's quasi-husband for twenty years!"</p> +<p>"Oh, you think he <i>is</i> in the plot?"</p> +<p>"Of course, Lucy swears he isn't. But if not--why isn't Ferrier +here? His own election was over a week ago. In the natural course +of things he would have been staying here since then, and speaking +for Oliver. Not a word of it! I'm glad he's shown a little spirit +at last! He's put up with it about enough."</p> +<p>"And Lady Lucy's fretting?"</p> +<p>"She don't like it--particularly when he comes to stay with Sir +James Chide and not at Tallyn. Such a thing has never happened +before."</p> +<p>"Poor old Ferrier!" said Bobbie, with a shrug of the +shoulders.</p> +<p>Lady Niton drew herself up fiercely.</p> +<p>"Don't pity your betters, sir! It's disrespectful."</p> +<p>Bobbie smiled. "You know the Ministry's resigned?"</p> +<p>"About time! What have they been hanging on for so long?"</p> +<p>"Well, it's done at last. I found a wire from the club waiting +for me here. The Queen has sent for Broadstone, and the fat's all +in the fire."</p> +<p>The two fell into an excited discussion of the situation. The +two rival heroes of the electoral six weeks on the Liberal side had +been, of course, Ferrier and Lord Philip. Lord Philip had conducted +an astonishing campaign in the Midlands, through a series of +speeches of almost revolutionary violence, containing many veiled, +or scarcely veiled, attacks on Ferrier. Ferrier, on the whole held +the North; but the candidates in the Midlands had been greatly +affected by Lord Philip and Lord Philip's speeches, and a +contagious enthusiasm had spread through whole districts, carrying +in the Liberal candidates with a rush. In the West and South, too, +where the Darcy family had many friends and large estates, the +Liberal nominees had shown a strong tendency to adopt Lord Philip's +programme and profess enthusiastic admiration for its author. So +that there were now two kings of Brentford. Lord Philip's fortunes +had risen to a threatening height, and the whole interest of the +Cabinet-making just beginning lay in the contest which it +inevitably implied between Ferrier and his new but formidable +lieutenant. It was said that Lord Philip had retired to his +tent--alias, his Northamptonshire house--and did not mean to budge +thence till he had got all he wanted out of the veteran +Premier.</p> +<p>"As for the papers," said Bobbie, "you see they're already at it +hammer and tongs. However, so long as the <i>Herald</i> sticks to +Ferrier, he has very much the best of it. This new editor +Barrington is an awfully clever fellow."</p> +<p>"Barrington!--Barrington!" said Lady Niton, looking up, "That's +the man who's coming to-night."</p> +<p>"Coming here?--Barrington? Hullo, I wonder what's up?"</p> +<p>"He proposed himself, Oliver says; he's an old friend."</p> +<p>"They were at Trinity together. But he doesn't really care much +about Oliver. I'm certain he's not coming here for Oliver's +<i>beaux yeux</i>, or Lady Lucy's."</p> +<p>"What does it matter?" cried Lady Niton, disdainfully.</p> +<p>"H'm!--you think 'em all a poor lot?"</p> +<p>"Well, when you've known Dizzy and Peel, Palmerston and +Melbourne, you're not going to stay awake nights worriting about +John Ferrier. In any other house but this I should back Lord +Philip. But I like to make Oliver uncomfortable."</p> +<p>"Upon my word! I have heard you say that Lord Philip's speeches +were abominable."</p> +<p>"So they are. But he ought to have credit for the number of 'em +he can turn out in a week."</p> +<p>"He'll be heard, in fact, for his much speaking?"</p> +<p>Bobbie looked at his companion with a smile. Suddenly his cheek +flushed. He sat down beside her and tried to take her hand.</p> +<p>"Look here," he said, with vivacity, "I think you were an awful +brick to stick up for Miss Mallory as you did."</p> +<p>Lady Niton withdrew her hand.</p> +<p>"I haven't an idea what you're driving at."</p> +<p>"You really thought that Oliver should have given up all that +money?"</p> +<p>His companion looked at him rather puzzled.</p> +<p>"He wouldn't have been a pauper," she said, dryly; "the girl had +some."</p> +<p>"Oh, but not much. No!--you took a dear, unworldly generous view +of it!--a view which has encouraged me immensely!"</p> +<p>"You!" Lady Niton drew back, and drew up, as though scenting +battle, while her wig and cap slipped more astray.</p> +<p>"Yes--me. It's made me think--well, that I ought to have told +you a secret of mine weeks ago."</p> +<p>And with a resolute and combative air, Bobbie suddenly +unburdened himself of the story of his engagement--to a clergyman's +daughter, without a farthing, his distant cousin on his mother's +side, and quite unknown to Lady Niton.</p> +<p>His listener emitted a few stifled cries--asked a few furious +questions--and then sat rigid.</p> +<p>"Well?" said Bobbie, masking his real anxiety under a smiling +appearance.</p> +<p>With a great effort, Lady Niton composed herself. She stretched +out a claw and resumed her work, two red spots on her cheeks.</p> +<p>"Marry her, if you like," she said, with delusive calm. "I +sha'n't ever speak to you again. A scheming minx without a +penny!--that ought never to have been allowed out of the +school-room."</p> +<p>Bobbie leaped from his chair.</p> +<p>"Is that the way you mean to take it?"</p> +<p>Lady Niton nodded.</p> +<p>"That is the way I mean to take it!"</p> +<p>"What a fool I was to believe your fine speeches about +Oliver!"</p> +<p>"Oliver may go to the devil!" cried Lady Niton.</p> +<p>"Very well!" Bobbie's dignity was tremendous. "Then I don't mean +to be allowed less liberty than Oliver. It's no good continuing +this conversation. Why, I declare! some fool has been meddling with +those books!"</p> +<p>And rapidly crossing the floor, swelling with wrath and +determination, Bobbie opened the bookcase of first editions which +stood in this inner drawing-room and began to replace some volumes, +which had strayed from their proper shelves, with a deliberate +hand.</p> +<p>"You resemble Oliver in one thing!" Lady Niton threw after +him.</p> +<p>"What may that be?" he said, carelessly.</p> +<p>"You both find gratitude inconvenient!"</p> +<p>Bobbie turned and bowed. "I do!" he said, "inconvenient, and +intolerable! Hullo!--I hear the carriage. I beg you to remark that +what I told you was confidential. It is not to be repeated in +company."</p> +<p>Lady Niton had only time to give him a fierce look when the door +opened, and Lady Lucy came wearily in.</p> +<p>Bobbie hastened to meet her.</p> +<p>"My dear Lady Lucy!--what news?"</p> +<p>"Oliver is in!"</p> +<p>"Hurrah!" Bobbie shook her hand vehemently. "I am glad!"</p> +<p>Lady Niton, controlling herself with difficulty, rose from her +seat, and also offered a hand.</p> +<p>"There, you see, Lucy, you needn't have been so anxious."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy sank into a chair.</p> +<p>"What's the majority?" said Bobbie, astonished by her appearance +and manner. "I say, you know, you've been working too hard."</p> +<p>"The majority is twenty-four," said Lady Lucy, coldly, as though +she had rather not have been asked the question; and at the same +time, leaning heavily back in her chair, she began feebly to untie +the lace strings of her bonnet. Bobbie was shocked by her +appearance. She had aged rapidly since he had last seen her, and, +in particular, a gray shadow had overspread the pink-and-white +complexion which had so long preserved her good looks.</p> +<p>On hearing the figures (the majority five years before had been +fifteen hundred), Bobbie could not forbear an exclamation which +produced another contraction of Lady Lucy's tired brow. Lady Niton +gave a very audible "Whew!"--to which she hastened to add: "Well, +Lucy, what does it matter? Twenty-four is as good as two +thousand."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy roused herself a little.</p> +<p>"Of course," she said, languidly, "it is disappointing. But we +may be glad it is no worse. For a little while, during the +counting, we thought Oliver was out. But the last bundles to be +counted were all for him, and we just saved it." A pause, and then +the speaker added, with emphasis: "It has been a <i>horrid</i> +election! Such ill-feeling--and violence--such unfair +placards!--some of them, I am sure, were libellous. But I am told +one can do nothing."</p> +<p>"Well, my dear, this is what Democracy comes to," said Lady +Niton, taking up her knitting again with vehemence. "'<i>Tu l'as +voulu, Georges Dandin</i>.' You Liberals have opened the gates--and +now you grumble at the deluge."</p> +<p>"It has been the injustice shown him by his own side that Oliver +minds." The speaker's voice betrayed the bleeding of the inward +wound. "Really, to hear some of our neighbors talk, you would think +him a Communist. And, on the other hand, he and Alicia only just +escaped being badly hurt this morning at the collieries--when they +were driving round. I implored them not to go. However, they would. +There was an ugly crowd, and but for a few mounted police that came +up, it might have been most unpleasant."</p> +<p>"I suppose Alicia has been careering about with him all day?" +said Lady Niton.</p> +<p>"Alicia--and Roland Lankester--and the chairman of Oliver's +committee. Now they've gone off on the coach, to drive round some +of the villages, and thank people." Lady Lucy rose as she +spoke.</p> +<p>"Not much to thank for, according to you!" observed Lady Niton, +grimly.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, he's in!" Lady Lucy drew a long breath. "But people +have behaved so extraordinarily! That man--that clergyman--at +Beechcote--Mr. Lavery. He's been working night and day against +Oliver. Really, I think parsons ought to leave politics alone."</p> +<p>"Lavery?" said Bobbie. "I thought he was a Radical. Weren't +Oliver's speeches advanced enough to please him?"</p> +<p>"He has been denouncing Oliver as a humbug, because of what he +is pleased to call the state of the mining villages. I'm sure +they're a great, great deal better than they were twenty years +ago!" Lady Lucy's voice was almost piteous. "However, he very +nearly persuaded the miners to run a candidate of their own, and +when that fell through, he advised them to abstain from voting. And +they must have done so--in several villages. That's pulled down the +majority."</p> +<p>"Abominable!" said Bobbie, who was comfortably conservative. "I +always said that man was a firebrand."</p> +<p>"I don't know what he expects to get by it," said Lady Lucy, +slowly, as she moved toward the door. Her tone was curiously +helpless; she was still stately, but it was a ghostly and pallid +stateliness.</p> +<p>"Get by it!" sneered Lady Niton. "After all, his friends are in. +They say he's eloquent. His jackasseries will get him a bishopric +in time--you'll see."</p> +<p>"It was the unkindness--the ill-feeling--I minded," said Lady +Lucy, in a low voice, leaning heavily upon her stick, and looking +straight before her as though she inwardly recalled some of the +incidents of the election. "I never knew anything like it +before."</p> +<p>Lady Niton lifted her eyebrows--not finding a suitable response. +Did Lucy really not understand what was the matter?--that her +beloved Oliver had earned the reputation throughout the division of +a man who can propose to a charming girl, and then desert her for +money, at the moment when the tragic blow of her life had fallen +upon her?--and she, that of the mercenary mother who had forced him +into it. Precious lucky for Oliver to have got in at all!</p> +<p>The door closed on Lady Lucy. Forgetting for an instant what had +happened before her hostess entered, Elizabeth Niton, bristling +with remarks, turned impetuously toward Forbes. He had gone back to +first editions, and was whistling vigorously as he worked. With a +start, Lady Niton recollected herself. Her face reddened afresh; +she rose, walked with as much majesty as her station admitted to +the door, which she closed sharply behind her.</p> +<p>As soon as she was gone Bobbie stopped whistling. If she was +really going to make a quarrel of it, it would certainly be a great +bore--a hideous bore. His conscience pricked him for the mean and +unmanly dependence which had given the capricious and masterful +little woman so much to say in his affairs. He must really find +fresh work, pay his debts, those to Lady Niton first and foremost, +and marry the girl who would make a decent fellow of him. But his +heart smote him about his queer old Fairy Blackstick. No +surrender!--but he would like to make peace.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>It was past eight o'clock when the four-in-hand on which the new +member had been touring the constituency drove up to the Tallyn +door. Forbes hurried to the steps to greet the party.</p> +<p>"Hullo, Oliver! A thousand congratulations, old fellow! Never +mind the figures. A win's a win! But I thought you would have been +dining and junketing in Dunscombe to-night. How on earth did you +get them to let you off?"</p> +<p>Oliver's tired countenance smiled perfunctorily as he swung +himself down from the coach. He allowed his hand to be shaken; his +lips moved, but only a husky whisper emerged.</p> +<p>"Lost his voice," Roland Lankester explained. "And so done that +we begged him off from the Dunscombe dinner. He's only fit for +bed."</p> +<p>And with a wave of the hand to the company, Marsham, weary and +worn, mounted the steps, and, passing rapidly through the hall, +went up-stairs. Alicia Drake and Lankester followed, pausing in the +hall to talk with Bobbie.</p> +<p>Alicia too looked tired out. She was dressed in a marvellous +gown of white chiffon, adorned with a large rosette of Marsham's +colors--red-and-yellow--and wore a hat entirely composed of red and +yellow roses. The colors were not becoming to her, and she had no +air of happy triumph. Rather, both in her and in Marsham there were +strong signs of suppressed chagrin and indignation.</p> +<p>"Well, that's over!" said Miss Drake, throwing down her gloves +on the billiard-table with a fierce gesture; "and I'm sure neither +Oliver nor I would go through it again for a million of money. How +<i>revolting</i> the lower classes are!"</p> +<p>Lankester looked at her curiously.</p> +<p>"You've worked awfully hard," he said. "I hope you're going to +have a good rest."</p> +<p>"I wouldn't bother about rest if I could pay out some of the +people here," said Alicia, passionately. "I should like to see a +few score of them hanged in chains, <i>pour encourager les +autres</i>."</p> +<p>So saying, she gathered up her gloves and parasol, and swept +up-stairs declaring that she was too dog-tired to talk.</p> +<p>Bobbie Forbes and Lankester looked at each other.</p> +<p>"It's been really a beastly business!" said Lankester, under his +breath. "Precious little politics in it, too, as far as I could +see. The strong Ferrierites no doubt have held aloof on the score +of Marsham's supposed disloyalty to the great man; though, as far +as I can make out, he has been careful not to go beyond a certain +line in his speeches. Anyway, they have done no work, and a good +many of them have certainly abstained from voting. It is our vote +that has gone down; the Tories have scarcely increased theirs at +all. But the other side--and the Socialists--got hold of a lot of +nasty little things about the estate and the collieries. The +collieries are practically in rebellion, spoiling for a big strike +next November, if not before. When Miss Drake and Marsham drove +round there this morning they were very badly received. Her parasol +was broken by a stone, and there was a good deal of +mud-throwing."</p> +<p>Bobbie eyed his companion.</p> +<p>"Was any of the Opposition personal to <i>her</i>?"</p> +<p>Lankester nodded.</p> +<p>"There's an extraordinary feeling all over the place for--"</p> +<p>"Of course there is!" said Bobbie, hotly. "Marsham isn't such a +fool as not to know that. Why did he let this aggressive young +woman take such a prominent part?"</p> +<p>Lankester shrugged his shoulders, but did not pursue the +subject. The two men went up-stairs, and Lankester parted from his +companion with the remark:</p> +<p>"I must say I hope Marsham won't press for anything in the +Government. I don't believe he'll ever get in for this place +again."</p> +<p>Forbes shook his head.</p> +<p>"Marsham's got a lot of devil in him somewhere. I shouldn't +wonder if this made him set his teeth."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Lankester opened the door of the ugly yet luxurious room which +had been assigned him. He looked round it with fresh distaste, +resenting its unnecessary size and its pretentious decoration, +resenting also the very careful valeting which had evidently been +bestowed on his shabby clothes and personal appointments, as though +the magnificent young footman who looked after him had been doing +his painful best with impossible materials.</p> +<p>"Why, the idiots have shut the windows!"</p> +<p>He strode vehemently across the floor, only to find the park +outside, as he hung across the sill, even less to his liking than +the room within.</p> +<p>Then, throwing himself into a chair, tired out with the +canvassing, speaking, and multifarious business of the preceding +days, he fell to wondering what on earth had made him--after the +fatigues of his own election--come down to help Marsham with his. +There were scores of men in the House he liked a great deal better, +and requests for help had been showered upon him.</p> +<p>He had, no doubt, been anxious, as a keen member of the advanced +group, that Marsham should finally commit himself to the programme +of the Left Wing, with which he had been so long coquetting. Oliver +had a considerable position in the House, and was, moreover, a rich +man. Rich men had not, so far, been common in the advanced section +of the party. Lankester, in whom the idealist and the wire-puller +were shrewdly mixed, was well aware that the reforms he desired +could only be got by extensive organization; and he knew precisely +what the money cost of getting them would be. Rich men, therefore, +were the indispensable tools of his ideas; and among his own group +he who had never possessed a farthing of his own apart from the +earnings of his brain and pen was generally set on to capture +them.</p> +<p>Was that really why he had come down?--to make sure of this rich +Laodicean? Lankester fell into a reverie.</p> +<p>He was a man of curious gifts and double personality. It was +generally impossible to lure him, on any pretext, from the East End +and the House of Commons. He lived in a block of model dwellings in +a street opening out of the East India Dock Road, and his rooms, +whenever he was at home, were overrun by children from the +neighboring tenements. To them he was all gentleness and fun, while +his command of invective in a public meeting was little short of +terrible. Great ladies and the country-houses courted him because +of a certain wit, a certain charm--above all, a certain spiritual +power--which piqued the worldling. He flouted and refused the great +ladies--with a smile, however, which gave no offence; and he knew, +notwithstanding, everybody whom he wanted to know. Occasionally he +made quiet spaces in his life, and disappeared from London for days +or weeks. When he reappeared it was often with a battered and +exhausted air, as of one from whom virtue had gone out. He was, in +truth, a mystic of a secular kind: very difficult to class +religiously, though he called himself a member of the Society of +Friends. Lady Lucy, who was of Quaker extraction, recognized in his +ways and phrases echoes from the meetings and influences of her +youth. But, in reality, he was self-taught and self-formed, on the +lines of an Evangelical tradition, which had owed something, a +couple of generations back, among his Danish forebears, to the +influence of Emanuel Swedenborg. This tradition had not only been +conveyed to him by a beloved and saintly mother; it had been +appropriated by the man's inmost forces. What he believed in, with +all mystics, was <i>prayer</i>--an intimate and ineffable communion +between the heart and God. Lying half asleep on the House of +Commons benches, or strolling on the Terrace, he pursued often an +inner existence, from which he could spring in a moment to full +mundane life--arguing passionately for some Socialist proposal, +scathing an opponent, or laughing and "ragging" with a group of +friends, like a school-boy on an <i>exeat</i>. But whatever he did, +an atmosphere went with him that made him beloved. He was extremely +poor, and wrote for his living. His opinions won the scorn of +moderate men; and every year his influence in Parliament--on both +sides of the House and with the Labor party--increased. On his rare +appearance in such houses as Tallyn Hall every servant in the house +marked and befriended him. The tall footman, for instance, who had +just been endeavoring to make the threadbare cuffs of Lankester's +dress coat present a more decent appearance, had done it in no +spirit of patronage, but simply in order that a gentleman who spoke +to him as a man and a brother should not go at a disadvantage among +"toffs" who did nothing of the kind.</p> +<p>But again--why had he come down?</p> +<p>During the last months of Parliament, Lankester had seen a good +deal of Oliver. The story of Diana, and of Marsham's interrupted +wooing was by that time public property, probably owing to the +indignation of certain persons in Brookshire. As we have seen, it +had injured the prestige of the man concerned in and out of +Parliament. But Lankester, who looked at life intimately and +intensely, with the eye of a confessor, had been roused by it to a +curiosity about Oliver Marsham--whom at the time he was meeting +habitually on political affairs--which he had never felt before. +He, with his brooding second sight based on a spiritual estimate of +the world--he and Lady Lucy--alone saw that Marsham was unhappy. +His irritable moodiness might, of course, have nothing to do with +his failure to play the man in the case of Miss Mallory. Lankester +was inclined to think it had--Alicia Drake or no Alicia Drake. And +the grace of repentance is so rare in mankind that the mystic--his +own secret life wavering perpetually between repentance and +ecstasy--is drawn to the merest shadow of it.</p> +<p>These hidden thoughts on Lankester's side had been met by a new +and tacit friendliness on Marsham's. He had shown an increasing +liking for Lankester's company, and had finally asked him to come +down and help him in his constituency.</p> +<p>By George, if he married that girl, he would pay his penalty to +the utmost!</p> +<p>Lankester leaned out of window again, his eyes sweeping the +dreary park. In reality they had before them Marsham's aspect at +the declaration of the poll--head and face thrown back defiantly, +hollow eyes of bitterness and fatigue; and the scene outside--in +front, a booing crowd--and beside the new member, Alicia's angry +and insolent look.</p> +<p>The election represented a set-back in a man's career, in spite +of the bare victory. And Lankester did not think it would be +retrieved. With a prophetic insight which seldom failed him, he saw +that Marsham's chapter of success was closed. He might get some +small office out of the Government. Nevertheless, the scale of life +had dropped--on the wrong side. Through Lankester's thought there +shot a pang of sympathy. Defeat was always more winning to him than +triumph.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile the new member himself was in no melting mood.</p> +<p>Forbes was right. Marsham, in his room, looking over the letters +which his servant had brought him, was only conscious of two +feelings--disgust and loathing with regard to the contest just +over, and a dogged determination with regard to the future. He had +been deserted by the moderates--by the Ferrierites--in spite of all +his endeavors to keep within courteous and judicial bounds; and he +had been all but sacrificed to a forbearance which had not saved +him apparently a single moderate vote, and had lost him scores on +the advanced side.</p> +<p>With regard to Ferrier personally, he was extremely sore, A +letter from him during the preceding week would certainly have +influenced votes. Marsham denied hotly that his speeches had been +of a character to offend or injure his old friend and leader. A man +must really be allowed some honest latitude of opinion, even under +party government!--and in circumstances of personal obligation. He +had had to steer a most difficult course. But why must he give up +his principles--not to speak of his chances of political +advancement--because John Ferrier had originally procured him his +seat in Parliament, and had been his parents' intimate friend for +many years? Let the Whig deserters answer that question, if they +could!</p> +<p>His whole being was tingling with anger and resentment. The +contest had steeped him in humiliations which stuck to him like +mud-stains.</p> +<p>The week before, he had written to Ferrier, imploring him if +possible to come and speak for him--or at least to write a letter; +humbling his pride; and giving elaborate explanations of the line +which he had taken.</p> +<p>There, on the table beside him, was Ferrier's reply:</p> +<blockquote>"My Dear Oliver,--I don't think a letter would do you +much good, and for a speech, I am too tired--and I am afraid at the +present moment too thin-skinned. Pray excuse me. We shall meet when +this hubbub is over. All success to you.<br> +<br> +"Yours ever, J.F."</blockquote> +<p>Was there ever a more ungracious, a more uncalled-for, letter? +Well, at any rate, he was free henceforward to think and act for +himself, and on public grounds only; though of course he would do +nothing unworthy of an old friendship, or calculated to hurt his +mother's feelings. Ferrier, by this letter, and by the strong +negative influence he must have exerted in West Brookshire during +the election, had himself loosened the old bond; and Marsham would +henceforth stand on his own feet.</p> +<p>As to Ferrier's reasons for a course of action so wholly unlike +any he had ever yet taken in the case of Lucy Marsham's son, +Oliver's thoughts found themselves engaged in a sore and perpetual +wrangle. Ferrier, he supposed, suspected him of a lack of +"straightness"; and did not care to maintain an intimate relation, +which had been already, and might be again, used against him. +Marsham, on his side, recalled with discomfort various small +incidents in the House of Commons which might have seemed--to an +enemy--to illustrate or confirm such an explanation of the state of +things.</p> +<p>Absurd, of course! He <i>was</i> an old friend of Ferrier's, +whose relation to his mother necessarily involved close and +frequent contact with her son. And at the same time--although in +the past Ferrier had no doubt laid him under great personal and +political obligations--he had by now, in the natural course of +things, developed strong opinions of his own, especially as to the +conduct of party affairs in the House of Commons; opinions which +were not Ferrier's--which were, indeed, vehemently opposed to +Ferrier's. In his, Oliver's, opinion, Ferrier's lead in the +House--on certain questions--was a lead of weakness, making for +disaster. Was he not even to hold, much less to express such a +view, because of the quasi-parental relation in which Ferrier had +once stood to him? The whole thing was an odious confusion--most +unfair to him individually--between personal and Parliamentary +duty.</p> +<p>Frankness?--loyalty? It would, no doubt, be said that Ferrier +had always behaved with singular generosity both toward opponents +and toward dissidents in his own party. Open and serious argument +was at no time unwelcome to him.</p> +<p>All very well! But how was one to argue, beyond a certain point, +with a man twenty-five years your senior, who had known you in +jackets, and was also your political chief?</p> +<p>Moreover, he had argued--to the best of his ability. Ferrier had +written him a striking series of letters, no doubt, and he had +replied to them. As to Ferrier's wish that he should communicate +certain points in those letters to Barton and Lankester, he had +done it, to some extent. But it was a most useless proceeding. The +arguments employed had been considered and rejected a hundred times +already by every member of the dissident group.</p> +<p>And with regard to the meeting, which had apparently roused so +sharp a resentment in Ferrier, Marsham maintained simply that he +was not responsible. It was a meeting of the advanced Radicals of +the division. Neither Marsham nor his agents had been present. +Certain remarks and opinions of his own had been quoted indeed, +even in public, as leading up to it, and justifying it. A great +mistake. He had never meant to countenance any personal attack on +Ferrier or his leadership. Yet he uncomfortably admitted that the +meeting had told badly on the election. In the view of one side, he +had not had pluck enough to go to it; in the view of the other, he +had disgracefully connived at it.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The arrival of the evening post and papers did something to +brush away these dismal self-communings. Wonderful news from the +counties! The success of the latest batch of advanced candidates +had been astonishing. Other men, it seemed, had been free to +liberate their souls! Well, now the arbiter of the situation was +Lord Philip, and there would certainly be a strong advanced +infusion in the new Ministry. Marsham considered that he had as +good claims as any of the younger men; and if it came to another +election in Brookshire, hateful as the prospect was, he should be +fighting in the open, and choosing his own weapons. No shirking! +His whole being gathered itself into a passionate determination to +retaliate upon the persons who had injured, thwarted, and +calumniated him during the contest just over. He would fight +again--next week, if necessary--and he would win!</p> +<p>As to the particular and personal calumnies with which he had +been assailed--why, of course, he absolved Diana. She could have +had no hand in them.</p> +<p>Suddenly he pushed his papers from him with a hasty unconscious +movement.</p> +<p>In driving home that evening past the gates and plantations of +Beechcote it seemed to him that he had seen through the trees--in +the distance--the fluttering of a white dress. Had the news of his +inglorious success just reached her? How had she received it? Her +face came before him--the frank eyes--the sweet troubled look.</p> +<p>He dropped his head upon his arms. A sick distaste for all that +he had been doing and thinking rose upon him, wavelike, drowning +for a moment the energies of mind and will. Had anything been worth +while--for <i>him</i>--since the day when he had failed to keep the +last tryst which Diana had offered him?</p> +<p>He did not, however, long allow himself a weakness which he knew +well he had no right to indulge. He roused himself abruptly, took +pen and paper, and wrote a little note to Alicia, sending it round +to her through her maid.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marsham pleaded fatigue, and dined in his room. In the course of +the meal he inquired of his servant if Mr. Barrington had +arrived.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir; he arrived in time for dinner."</p> +<p>"Ask him to come up afterward and see me here."</p> +<p>As he awaited the new-comer, Marsham had time to ponder what +this visit of a self-invited guest might mean. The support of the +<i>Herald</i> and its brilliant editor had been so far one of +Ferrier's chief assets. But there had been some signs of wavering +in its columns lately, especially on two important questions likely +to occupy the new Ministry in its first session--matters on which +the opinion of the Darcy, or advanced section, was understood to be +in violent conflict with that of Ferrier and the senior members of +the late Front Opposition Bench in general.</p> +<p>Barrington, no doubt, wished to pump him--one of Ferrier's +intimates--with regard to the latest phase of Ferrier's views on +these two principal measures. The leader himself was rather stiff +and old-fashioned with regard to journalists--gave too little +information where other men gave too much.</p> +<p>Oliver glanced in some disquiet at the pile of Ferrier's letters +lying beside him. It contained material for which any ambitious +journalist, at the present juncture, would give the eyes out of his +head. But could Barrington be trusted? Oliver vaguely remembered +some stories to his disadvantage, told probably by Lankester, who +in these respects was one of the most scrupulous of men. Yet the +paper stood high, and was certainly written with conspicuous +ability.</p> +<p>Why not give him information?--cautiously, of course, and with +discretion. What harm could it do--to Ferrier or any one else? The +party was torn by dissensions; and the first and most necessary +step toward reunion was that Ferrier's aims and methods should be +thoroughly understood. No doubt in these letters, as he had himself +pointed out, he had expressed himself with complete, even dangerous +freedom. But there was not going to be any question of putting them +into Barrington's hands. Certainly not!--merely a quotation--a +reference here and there.</p> +<p>As he began to sketch his own share in the expected +conversation, a pleasant feeling of self-importance crept in, +soothing to the wounds of the preceding week. Secretly Marsham knew +that he had never yet made the mark in politics that he had hoped +to make, that his abilities entitled him to make. The more he +thought of it the more he realized that the coming half-hour might +be of great significance in English politics; he had it in his own +power to make it so. He was conscious of a strong wish to impress +Barrington--perhaps Ferrier also. After all, a man grows up, and +does not remain an Eton boy, or an undergraduate, forever. It would +be well to make Ferrier more aware than he was of that fact.</p> +<p>In the midst of his thoughts the door opened, and Barrington--a +man showing in his dark-skinned, large-featured alertness the signs +of Jewish pliancy and intelligence--walked in.</p> +<p>"Are you up to conversation?" he said, laughing. "You look +pretty done!"</p> +<p>"If I can whisper you what you want," said Oliver, huskily, +"it's at your service! There are the cigarettes."</p> +<p>The talk lasted long. Midnight was near before the two men +separated.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The news of Marsham's election reached Ferrier under Sir James +Chide's roof, in the pleasant furnished house about four miles from +Beechcote, of which he had lately become the tenant in order to be +near Diana. It was conveyed in a letter from Lady Lucy, of which +the conclusion ran as follows:</p> +<blockquote>"It is so strange not to have you here this +evening--not to be able to talk over with you all these anxieties +and trials. I can't help being a little angry with Sir James. We +are the oldest friends.<br> +<br> +"Of course I have often been anxious lately lest Oliver should have +done anything to offend you. I have spoken to him about that +tiresome meeting, and I think I could prove to you it was +<i>not</i> his fault. Do, my dear friend, come here as soon as you +can, and let me explain to you whatever may have seemed wrong. You +cannot think how much we miss you. I feel it a little hard that +there should be strangers here this evening--like Mr. Lankester and +Mr. Barrington. But it could not be helped. Mr. Lankester was +speaking for Oliver last night--and Mr. Barrington invited himself. +I really don't know why. Oliver is dreadfully tired--and so am I. +The ingratitude and ill-feeling of many of our neighbors has tried +me sorely. It will be a long time before I forget it. It really +seems as though nothing were worth striving for in this very +difficult world."</blockquote> +<p>"Poor Lucy!" said Ferrier to himself, his heart softening, as +usual. "Barrington? H'm. That's odd." He had only time for a short +reply:</p> +<blockquote>"My dear Lady Lucy,--It's horrid that you are tired and +depressed. I wish I could come and cheer you up. Politics are a +cursed trade. But never mind, Oliver is safely in, and as soon as +the Government is formed, I will come to Tallyn, and we will laugh +at these woes. I can't write at greater length now, for Broadstone +has just summoned me. You will have seen that he went to Windsor +this morning. Now the agony begins. Let's hope it may be decently +short. I am just off for town.<br> +<br> +"Yours ever, John Ferrier."</blockquote> +<p>Two days passed--three days--and still the "agony" lasted. Lord +Broadstone's house in Portman Square was besieged all day by +anxious journalists watching the goings and comings of a Cabinet in +the making. But nothing could be communicated to the +newspapers--nothing, in fact, was settled. Envoys went backward and +forward to Lord Philip in Northamptonshire. Urgent telegrams +invited him to London. He took no notice of the telegrams; he did +not invite the envoys, and when they came he had little or nothing +of interest to say to them. Lord Broadstone, he declared, was fully +in possession of his views. He had nothing more to add. And, +indeed, a short note from him laid by in the new Premier's +pocket-book was, if the truth were known, the <i>fons et origo</i> +of all Lord Broadstone's difficulties.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the more conservative section exerted itself, and by +the evening of the third day it seemed to have triumphed. A rumor +spread abroad that Lord Philip had gone too far. Ferrier emerged +from a long colloquy with the Prime Minister, walking briskly +across the square with his secretary, smiling at some of the +reporters in waiting. Twenty minutes later, as he stood in the +smoking-room of the Reform, surrounded by a few privileged friends, +Lankester passed through the room.</p> +<p>"By Jove," he said to a friend with him, "I believe Ferrier's +done the trick!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In spite, however, of a contented mind, Ferrier was aware, on +reaching his own house, that he was far from well. There was +nothing very much to account for his feeling of illness. A slight +pain across the chest, a slight feeling of faintness, when he came +to count up his symptoms; nothing else appeared. It was a glorious +summer evening. He determined to go back to Chide, who now always +returned to Lytchett by an evening train, after a working-day in +town. Accordingly, the new Chancellor of the Exchequer and Leader +of the House dined lightly, and went off to St. Pancras, leaving a +note for the Prime Minister to say where he was to be found, and +promising to come to town again the following afternoon.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The following morning fulfilled the promise of the tranquil +evening and starry night, which, amid the deep quiet of the +country, had done much to refresh a man, in whom, indeed, a +stimulating consciousness of success seemed already to have +repaired the ravages of the fight.</p> +<p>Ferrier was always an early riser, and by nine o'clock he and +Sir James were pottering and smoking in the garden. A long case in +which Chide had been engaged had come to an end the preceding day. +The great lawyer sent word to his chambers that he was not coming +up to town; Ferrier ascertained that he was only half an hour from +a telegraph office, made a special arrangement with the local post +as to a mid-day delivery of letters, and then gave himself up for +the morning to rest, gossip, and a walk.</p> +<p>By a tiresome <i>contretemps</i> the newspapers did not arrive +at breakfast-time. Sir James was but a new-comer in the district, +and the parcel of papers due to him had gone astray through the +stupidity of a newsboy. A servant was sent into Dunscombe, five +miles off; and meanwhile Ferrier bore the blunder with equanimity. +His letters of the morning, fresh from the heart of things, made +newspapers a mere superfluity. They could tell him nothing that he +did not know already. And as for opinions, those might wait.</p> +<p>He proposed, indeed, before the return of the servant from +Dunscombe, to walk over to Beechcote. The road lay through woods, +two miles of shade. He pined for exercise; Diana and her young +sympathy acted as a magnet both on him and on Sir James; and it was +to be presumed she took a daily paper, being, as Ferrier recalled, +"a terrible little Tory."</p> +<p>In less than an hour they were at Beechcote. They found Diana +and Mrs. Colwood on the lawn of the old house, reading and working +in the shade of a yew hedge planted by that Topham Beauclerk who +was a friend of Johnson. The scent of roses and limes; the hum of +bees; the beauty of slow-sailing clouds, and of the shadows they +flung on the mellowed color of the house; combined with the figure +of Diana in white, her eager eyes, her smile, and her unquenchable +interest in all that concerned the two friends, of whose devotion +to her she was so gratefully and simply proud--these things put the +last touch to Ferrier's enjoyment. He flung himself on the grass, +talking to both the ladies of the incidents and absurdities of +Cabinet-making, with a freedom and fun, an abandonment of anxiety +and care that made him young again. Nobody mentioned a +newspaper.</p> +<p>Presently Chide, who had now taken the part of general adviser +to Diana, which had once been filled by Marsham, strolled off with +her to look at a greenhouse in need of repairs. Mrs. Colwood was +called in by some household matter. Ferrier was left alone.</p> +<p>As usual, he had a book in his pocket. This time it was a volume +of selected essays, ranging from Bacon to Carlyle. He began lazily +to turn the pages, smiling to himself the while at the paradoxes of +life. Here, for an hour, he sat under the limes, drunk with summer +breezes and scents, toying with a book, as though he were some +"indolent irresponsible reviewer"--some college fellow in +vacation--some wooer of an idle muse. Yet dusk that evening would +find him once more in the Babel of London. And before him lay the +most strenuous, and, as he hoped, the most fruitful passage of his +political life. Broadstone, too, was an old man; the Premiership +itself could not be far away.</p> +<p>As for Lord Philip--Ferrier's thoughts ran upon that gentleman +with a good-humor which was not without malice. He had played his +cards extremely well, but the trumps in his hand had not been quite +strong enough. Well, he was young; plenty of time yet for Cabinet +office. That he would be a thorn in the side of the new Ministry +went without saying. Ferrier felt no particular dismay at the +prospect, and amused himself with speculations on the letters which +had probably passed that very day between Broadstone and the +"iratus Achilles" in Northamptonshire.</p> +<p>And from Lord Philip, Ferrier's thoughts--shrewdly +indulgent--strayed to the other conspirators, and to Oliver Marsham +in particular, their spokesman and intermediary. Suddenly a great +softness invaded him toward Oliver and his mother. After all, had +he not been hard with the boy, to leave him to his fight without a +word of help? Oliver's ways were irritating; he had more than one +of the intriguer's gifts; and several times during the preceding +weeks Ferrier's mind had recurred with disquiet to the letters in +his hands. But, after all, things had worked out better than could +possibly have been expected. The <i>Herald</i>, in particular, had +done splendid service, to himself personally, and to the moderates +in general. Now was the time for amnesty and reconciliation all +round. Ferrier's mind ran busily on schemes of the kind. As to +Oliver, he had already spoken to Broadstone about him, and would +speak again that night. Certainly he must have something--Junior +Lordship at least. And if he were opposed on re-election, why, he +should be helped--roundly helped. Ferrier already saw himself at +Tallyn once more, with Lady Lucy's frail hand in one of his, the +other perhaps on Oliver's shoulder. After all, where was he +happy--or nearly happy--but with them?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>His eyes returned to his book. With a mild amusement he saw that +it had opened of itself at an essay, by Abraham Cowley, on +"Greatness" and its penalties: "Out of these inconveniences arises +naturally one more, which is, that no greatness can be satisfied or +contented with itself; still, if it could mount up a little higher, +it would be happy; if it could not gain that point, it would obtain +all its desires; but yet at last, when it is got up to the very top +of the peak of Teneriffe, it is in very great danger of breaking +its neck downward, but in no possibility of ascending upward--into +the seat of tranquillity about the moon."</p> +<p>The new Secretary of State threw himself back in his garden +chair, his hands behind his head. Cowley wrote well; but the old +fellow did not, after all, know much about it, in spite of his +boasted experiences at that sham and musty court of St.-Germain's. +Is it true that men who have climbed high are always thirsty to +climb higher? No! "What is my feeling now? Simply a sense of +<i>opportunity</i>. A man may be glad to have the chance of leaving +his mark on England."</p> +<p>Thoughts rose in him which were not those of a +pessimist--thoughts, however, which the wise man will express as +little as possible, since talk profanes them. The concluding words +of Peel's great Corn Law speech ran through his memory, and +thrilled it. He was accused of indifference to the lot of the poor. +It was not true. It never had been true.</p> +<p>"Hullo! who comes?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood was running over the lawn, bringing apparently a +letter, and a newspaper.</p> +<p>She came up, a little breathless.</p> +<p>"This letter has just come for you, Mr. Ferrier, by special +messenger. And Miss Mallory asked me to bring you the +newspaper."</p> +<p>Ferrier took the letter, which was bulky and addressed in the +Premier's handwriting.</p> +<p>"Kindly ask the messenger to wait. I will come and speak to +him."</p> +<p>He opened the letter and read it. Then, having put it +deliberately in his pocket, he sat bending forward, staring at the +grass. The newspaper caught his eye. It was the <i>Herald</i> of +that morning. He raised it from the ground, read the first leading +article, and then a column "from a correspondent" on which the +article was based.</p> +<p>As he came to the end of it a strange premonition took +possession of him. He was still himself, but it seemed to him that +the roar of some approaching cataract was in his ears. He mastered +himself with difficulty, took a pencil from his pocket, and drew a +wavering line beside a passage in the article contributed by the +<i>Herald's</i> correspondent. The newspaper slid from his knee to +the ground.</p> +<p>Then, with a groping hand, he sought again for Broadstone's +letter, drew it out of its envelope, and, with a mist before his +eyes, felt for the last page which, he seemed to remember, was +blank. On this he traced, with difficulty, a few lines, replaced +the whole letter in the torn envelope and wrote an address upon +it--uncertainly crossing out his own name.</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, he fell back. The letter followed the newspaper +to the ground. Deadly weakness was creeping upon him, but as yet +the brain was clear. Only his will struggled no more; everything +had given way, but with the sense of utter catastrophe there +mingled neither pain nor bitterness. Some of the Latin verse +scattered over the essay he had been reading ran vaguely through +his mind--then phrases from his last talk with the Prime +Minister--then remembrances of the night at Assisi--and the face of +the poet--</p> +<p>A piercing cry rang out close beside him--Diana's cry. His life +made a last rally, and his eyes opened. They closed again, and he +heard no more.</p> +<p>Sir James Chide stooped over Diana.</p> +<p>"Run for help!--brandy!--a doctor! I'll stay with him. Run!"</p> +<p>Diana ran. She met Mrs. Colwood hurrying, and sent her for +brandy. She herself sped on blindly toward the village.</p> +<p>A few yards beyond the Beechcote gate she was overtaken by a +carriage. There was an exclamation, the carriage pulled up sharp, +and a man leaped from it.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory!--what is the matter?"</p> +<p>She looked up, saw Oliver Marsham, and, in the carriage behind +him, Lady Lucy, sitting stiff and pale, with astonished eyes.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ferrier is ill--very ill! Please go for the doctor! He is +here--at my house."</p> +<p>The figure in the carriage rose hurriedly. Lady Lucy was beside +her.</p> +<p>"What is the matter?" She laid an imperious hand on the girl's +arm.</p> +<p>"I think--he is dying," said Diana, gasping. "Oh, come!--come +back at once!"</p> +<p>Marsham was already in the carriage. The horse galloped forward. +Diana and Lady Lucy ran toward the house.</p> +<p>"In the garden," said Diana, breathlessly; and, taking Lady +Lucy's hand, she guided her.</p> +<p>Beside the dying man stood Sir James Chide, Muriel Colwood, and +the old butler. Sir James looked up, started at the sight of Lady +Lucy, and went to meet her.</p> +<p>"You are just in time," he said, tenderly; "but he is going +fast. We have done all we could."</p> +<p>Ferrier was now lying on the grass, his head supported. Lady +Lucy sank beside him.</p> +<p>"John!" she called, in a voice of anguish--"John--dear, dear +friend!"</p> +<p>But the dying man made no sign. And as she lifted his hand to +her lips--the love she had shown him so grudgingly in life speaking +now undisguised through her tears and her despair--Sir James +watched the gentle passage of the last breaths, and knew that all +was done--the play over and the lights out.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<br> +<p>A sad hurrying and murmuring filled the old rooms and passages +of Beechcote. The village doctor had arrived, and under his +direction the body of John Ferrier had been removed from the garden +to the library of the house. There, amid Diana's books and +pictures, Ferrier lay, shut-eyed and serene, that touch of the ugly +and the ponderous which in life had mingled with the power and +humanity of his aspect entirely lost and drowned in the dignity of +death.</p> +<p>Chide and the doctor were in low-voiced consultation at one end +of the room; Lady Lucy sat beside the body, her face buried in her +hands; Marsham stood behind her.</p> +<p>Brown, the butler, noiselessly entered the room, and approached +Chide.</p> +<p>"Please sir, Lord Broadstone's messenger is here. He thinks you +might wish him to take back a letter to his lordship."</p> +<p>Chide turned abruptly.</p> +<p>"Lord Broadstone's messenger?"</p> +<p>"He brought a letter for Mr. Ferrier, sir, half an hour +ago."</p> +<p>Chide's face changed.</p> +<p>"Where is the letter?" He turned to the doctor, who shook his +head.</p> +<p>"I saw nothing when we brought him in."</p> +<p>Marsham, who had overheard the conversation, came forward.</p> +<p>"Perhaps on the grass--"</p> +<p>Chide--pale, with drawn brows--looked at him a moment in +silence.</p> +<p>Marsham hurried to the garden and to the spot under the yews, +where the death had taken place. Round the garden chairs were signs +of trampling feet--the feet of the gardeners who had carried the +body. A medley of books, opened letters, and working-materials lay +on the grass. Marsham looked through them; they all belonged to +Diana or Mrs. Colwood. Then he noticed a cushion which had fallen +beside the chair, and a corner of newspaper peeping from below it. +He lifted it up.</p> +<p>Below lay Broadstone's open letter, in its envelope, addressed +first in the Premier's well-known handwriting to "The Right Honble. +John Ferrier, M.P."--and, secondly, in wavering pencil, to "Lady +Lucy Marsham, Tallyn Hall."</p> +<p>Marsham turned the letter over, while thoughts hurried through +his brain. Evidently Ferrier had had time to read it. Why that +address to his mother?--and in that painful hand--written, it +seemed, with the weakness of death already upon him?</p> +<p>The newspaper? Ah!--the <i>Herald</i>!--lying as though, after +reading it, Ferrier had thrown it down and let the letter drop upon +it, from a hand that had ceased to obey him. As Marsham saw it the +color rushed into his cheeks. He stooped and raised it. Suddenly he +noticed on the margin of the paper a pencilled line, faint and +wavering, like the words written on the envelope. It ran beside a +passage in the article "from a correspondent," and as he looked at +it consciousness and pulse paused in dismay. There, under his eye, +in that dim mark, was the last word and sign of John Ferrier.</p> +<p>He was still staring at it when a sound disturbed him. Lady Lucy +came to him, feebly, across the grass. Marsham dropped the +newspaper, retaining Broadstone's letter.</p> +<p>"Sir James wished me to leave him a little," she said, brokenly. +"The ambulance will be here directly. They will take him to +Lytchett. I thought it should have been Tallyn. But Sir James +decided it."</p> +<p>"Mother!"--Marsham moved toward her, reluctantly--"here is a +letter--no doubt of importance. And--it is addressed to you."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy gave a little cry. She looked at the pencilled +address, with quivering lips; then she opened the envelope, and on +the back of the closely written letter she saw at once Ferrier's +last words to her.</p> +<p>Marsham, moved by a son's natural impulse, stooped and kissed +her hair. He drew a chair forward, and she sank into it with the +letter. While she was reading it he raised the <i>Herald</i> again, +unobserved, folded it up hurriedly, and put it in his pocket; then +walked away a few steps, that he might leave his mother to her +grief. Presently Lady Lucy called him.</p> +<p>"Oliver!" The voice was strong. He went back to her and she +received him with sparkling eyes, her hand on Broadstone's +letter.</p> +<p>"Oliver, this is what killed him! Lord Broadstone must bear the +responsibility."</p> +<p>And hurriedly, incoherently, she explained that the letter from +Lord Broadstone was an urgent appeal to Ferrier's patriotism and to +his personal friendship for the writer; begging him for the sake of +party unity, and for the sake of the country, to allow the Prime +Minister to cancel the agreement of the day before; to accept a +peerage and the War Office in lieu of the Exchequer and the +leadership of the House. The Premier gave a full account of the +insurmountable difficulties in the way of the completion of the +Government, which had disclosed themselves during the course of the +afternoon and evening following his interview with Ferrier. +Refusals of the most unexpected kind, from the most unlikely +quarters; letters and visits of protest from persons impossible to +ignore--most of them, no doubt, engineered by Lord Philip; "finally +the newspapers of this morning--especially the article in the +<i>Herald</i>, which you will have seen before this reaches +you--all these, taken together, convince me that if I cannot +persuade you to see the matter in the same light as I do--and I +know well that, whether you accept or refuse, you will put the +public advantage first--I must at once inform her Majesty that my +attempt to construct a Government has broken down."</p> +<p>Marsham followed her version of the letter as well as he could; +and as she turned the last page, he too perceived the pencilled +writing, which was not Broadstone's. This she did not offer to +communicate; indeed, she covered it at once with her hand.</p> +<p>"Yes, I suppose it was the shock," he said, in a low voice. "But +it was not Broadstone's fault. It was no one's fault."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy flushed and looked up.</p> +<p>"That man Barrington!" she said, vehemently. "Oh, if I had never +had him in my house!"</p> +<p>Oliver made no reply. He sat beside her, staring at the grass. +Suddenly Lady Lucy touched him on the knee.</p> +<p>"Oliver!"--her voice was gasping and difficult--"Oliver!--you +had nothing to do with that?"</p> +<p>"With what, mother?"</p> +<p>"With the <i>Herald</i> article. I read it this morning. But I +laughed at it! John's letter arrived at the same moment--so happy, +so full of plans--"</p> +<p>"Mother!--you don't imagine that a man in Ferrier's position can +be upset by an article in a newspaper?"</p> +<p>"I don't know--the <i>Herald</i> was so important--I have heard +John say so. Oliver!"--her face worked painfully--"I know you +talked with that man that night. You didn't--"</p> +<p>"I didn't say anything of which I am ashamed," he said, sharply, +raising his head.</p> +<p>His mother looked at him in silence. Their eyes met in a flash +of strange antagonism--as though each accused the other.</p> +<p>A sound behind them made Lady Lucy turn round. Brown was coming +over the grass.</p> +<p>"A telegram, sir, for you. Your coachman stopped the boy and +sent him here."</p> +<p>Marsham opened it hastily. As he read it his gray and haggard +face flushed again heavily.</p> +<blockquote>"Awful news just reached me. Deepest sympathy with you +and yours. Should be grateful if I might see you to-day.<br> +<br> +"BROADSTONE."</blockquote> +<p>He handed it to his mother, but Lady Lucy scarcely took in the +sense of it. When he left her to write his answer, she sat on in +the July sun which had now reached the chairs, mechanically drawing +her large country hat forward to shield her from its glare--a +forlorn figure, with staring absent eyes; every detail of her sharp +slenderness, her blanched and quivering face, the elegance of her +black dress, the diamond fastening the black lace hat-strings tied +under her pointed chin--set in the full and searching illumination +of mid-day. It showed her an old woman--left alone.</p> +<p>Her whole being rebelled against what had happened to her. Life +without John's letters, John's homage, John's sympathy--how was it +to be endured? Disguises that shrouded her habitual feelings and +instincts even from herself dropped away. That Oliver was left to +her did not make up to her in the least for John's death.</p> +<p>The smart that held her in its grip was a new experience. She +had never felt it at the death of the imperious husband, to whom +she had been, nevertheless, decorously attached. Her thoughts clung +to those last broken words under her hand, trying to wring from +them something that might content and comfort her remorse:</p> +<blockquote>"DEAR LUCY,--I feel ill--it may be nothing--Chide and +you may read this letter. Broadstone couldn't help it. Tell him so. +Bless you--Tell Oliver--Yours, J.F."</blockquote> +<p>The greater part of the letter was all but illegible even by +her--but the "bless you" and the "J.F." were more firmly written +than the rest, as though the failing hand had made a last +effort.</p> +<p>Her spiritual vanity was hungry and miserable. Surely, though +she would not be his wife, she had been John's best friend!--his +good angel. Her heart clamored for some warmer, gratefuller +word--that might justify her to herself. And, instead, she realized +for the first time the desert she had herself created, the +loneliness she had herself imposed. And with prophetic terror she +saw in front of her the daily self-reproach that her self-esteem +might not be able to kill.</p> +<p>"<i>Tell Oliver</i>--"</p> +<p>Did it mean "if I die, tell Oliver"? But John never said +anything futile or superfluous in his life. Was it not rather the +beginning of some last word to Oliver that he could not finish? Oh, +if her son had indeed contributed to his death!</p> +<p>She shivered under the thought; hurrying recollections of Mr. +Barrington's visit, of the <i>Herald</i> article of that morning, +of Oliver's speeches and doings during the preceding month, rushing +through her mind. She had already expressed her indignation about +the <i>Herald</i> article to Oliver that morning, on the drive +which had been so tragically interrupted.</p> +<p>"Dear Lady Lucy!"</p> +<p>She looked up. Sir James Chide stood beside her.</p> +<p>The first thing he did was to draw her to her feet, and then to +move her chair into the shade.</p> +<p>"You have lost more than any of us," he said, as she sank back +into it, and, holding out his hand, he took hers into his warm +compassionate clasp. He had never thought that she behaved well to +Ferrier, and he knew that she had behaved vilely to Diana; but his +heart melted within him at the sight of a woman--and a gray-haired +woman--in grief.</p> +<p>"I hear you found Broadstone's letter?" He glanced at it on her +lap. "I too have heard from him. The messenger, as soon as he knew +I was here, produced a letter for me that he was to have taken on +to Lytchett. It is a nice letter--a very nice letter, as far as +that goes. Broadstone wanted me to use my influence--with +John--described his difficulties--"</p> +<p>Chide's hand suddenly clinched on his knee.</p> +<p>"--If I could only get at that creature, Lord Philip!"</p> +<p>"You think it was the shock--killed him?" The hard slow tears +had begun again to drop upon her dress.</p> +<p>"Oh! he has been an ill man since May," said Chide, evasively. +"No doubt there has been heart mischief--unsuspected--for a long +time. The doctors will know--presently. Poor Broadstone!--it will +nearly kill him too."</p> +<p>She held out the letter to him.</p> +<p>"You are to read it;" and then, in broken tones, pointing: +"look! he said so."</p> +<p>He started as he saw the writing on the back, and again his hand +pressed hers kindly.</p> +<p>"He felt ill," she said, brokenly; "he foresaw it. Those are his +last words--his precious last words."</p> +<p>She hid her face. As Chide gave it back to her, his brow and lip +had settled into the look which made him so formidable in court. He +looked round him abruptly.</p> +<p>"Where is the <i>Herald</i>? I hear Mrs. Colwood brought it +out."</p> +<p>He searched the grass in vain, and the chairs. Lady Lucy was +silent. Presently she rose feebly.</p> +<p>"When--when will they take him away?"</p> +<p>"Directly. The ambulance is coming--I shall go with him. Take my +arm." She leaned on him heavily, and as they approached the house +they saw two figures step out of it--Marsham and Diana.</p> +<p>Diana came quickly, in her light white dress. Her eyes were red, +but she was quite composed. Chide looked at her with tenderness. In +the two hours which had passed since the tragedy she had been the +help and the support of everybody, writing, giving directions, +making arrangements, under his own guidance, while keeping herself +entirely in the background. No parade of grief, no interference +with himself or the doctors; but once, as he sat by the body in the +darkened room, he was conscious of her coming in, of her kneeling +for a little while at the dead man's side, of her soft, stifled +weeping. He had not said a word to her, nor she to him. They +understood each other.</p> +<p>And now she came, with this wistful face, to Lady Lucy. She +stood between that lady and Marsham, in her own garden, without, as +it seemed to Sir James, a thought of herself. As for him, in the +midst of his own sharp grief, he could not help looking covertly +from one to the other, remembering that February scene in Lady +Lucy's drawing-room. And presently he was sure that Lady Lucy too +remembered it. Diana timidly begged that she would take some +food--some milk or wine--before her drive home. It was three +hours--incredible as it seemed--since she had called to them in the +road. Lady Lucy, looking at her, and evidently but half +conscious--at first--of what was said, suddenly colored, and +refused--courteously but decidedly.</p> +<p>"Thank you. I want nothing. I shall soon be home. Oliver!"</p> +<p>"I go to Lytchett with Sir James, mother. Miss Mallory begs that +you will let Mrs. Colwood take you home."</p> +<p>"It is very kind, but I prefer to go alone. Is my carriage +there?"</p> +<p>She spoke like the stately shadow of her normal self. The +carriage was waiting. Lady Lucy approached Sir James, who was +standing apart, and murmured something in his ear, to the effect +that she would come to Lytchett that evening, and would bring +flowers. "Let mine be the first," she said, inaudibly to the rest. +Sir James assented. Such observances, he supposed, count for a +great deal with women; especially with those who are conscious of +having trifled a little with the weightier matters of the law.</p> +<p>Then Lady Lucy took her leave; Marsham saw her to her carriage. +The two left behind watched the receding figures--the mother, bent +and tottering, clinging to her son.</p> +<p>"She is terribly shaken," said Sir James; "but she will never +give way."</p> +<p>Diana did not reply, and as he glanced at her, he saw that she +was struggling for self-control, her eyes on the ground.</p> +<p>"And that woman might have had her for daughter!" he said to +himself, divining in her the rebuff of some deep and tender +instinct.</p> +<p>Marsham came back.</p> +<p>"The ambulance is just arriving."</p> +<p>Sir James nodded, and turned toward the house. Marsham detained +him, dropping his voice.</p> +<p>"Let me go with him, and you take my fly."</p> +<p>Sir James frowned.</p> +<p>"That is all settled," he said, peremptorily. Then he looked at +Diana. "I will see to everything in-doors. Will you take Miss +Mallory into the garden?"</p> +<p>Diana submitted; though, for the first time, her face reddened +faintly. She understood that Sir James wished her to be out of +sight and hearing while they moved the dead.</p> +<p>That was a strange walk together for these two! Side by side, +almost in silence, they followed the garden path which had taken +them to the downs, on a certain February evening. The thought of it +hovered, a ghost unlaid, in both their minds. Instinctively, +Marsham guided her by this path, that they might avoid that spot on +the farther lawn, where the scattered chairs, the trampled books +and papers still showed where Death and Sleep had descended. Yet, +as they passed it from a distance he saw the natural shudder run +through her; and, by association, there flashed through him +intolerably the memory of that moment of divine abandonment in +their last interview, when he had comforted her, and she had clung +to him. And now, how near she was to him--and yet how infinitely +remote! She walked beside him, her step faltering now and then, her +head thrown back, as though she craved for air and coolness on her +brow and tear-stained eyes. He could not flatter himself that his +presence disturbed her, that she was thinking at all about him. As +for him, his mind, held as it still was in the grip of catastrophe, +and stunned by new compunctions, was still susceptible from time to +time of the most discordant and agitating recollections--memories +glancing, lightning-quick, through the mind, unsummoned and +shattering. Her face in the moonlight, her voice in the great words +of her promise--"all that a woman can!"--that wretched evening in +the House of Commons when he had finally deserted her--a certain +passage with Alicia, in the Tallyn woods--these images quivered, as +it were, through nerve and vein, disabling and silencing him.</p> +<p>But presently, to his astonishment, Diana began to talk, in her +natural voice, without a trace of preoccupation or embarrassment. +She poured out her latest recollections of Ferrier. She spoke, +brushing away her tears sometimes, of his visit in the morning, and +his talk as he lay beside them on the grass--his recent letters to +her--her remembrance of him in Italy.</p> +<p>Marsham listened in silence. What she said was new to him, and +often bitter. He had known nothing of this intimate relation which +had sprung up so rapidly between her and Ferrier. While he +acknowledged its beauty and delicacy, the very thought of it, even +at this moment, filled him with an irritable jealousy. The new bond +had arisen out of the wreck of those he had himself broken; Ferrier +had turned to her, and she to Ferrier, just as he, by his own acts, +had lost them both; it might be right and natural; he winced under +it--in a sense, resented it--none the less.</p> +<p>And all the time he never ceased to be conscious of the +newspaper in his breast-pocket, and of that faint pencilled line +that seemed to burn against his heart.</p> +<p>Would she shrink from him, finally and irrevocably, if she knew +it? Once or twice he looked at her curiously, wondering at the +power that women have of filling and softening a situation. Her +broken talk of Ferrier was the only possible talk that could have +arisen between them at that moment without awkwardness, without +risk. To that last ground of friendship she could still admit him, +and a wounded self-love suggested that she chose it for his sake as +well as Ferrier's.</p> +<p>Of course, she had seen him with Alicia, and must have drawn her +conclusions. Four months after the breach with her!--and such a +breach! As he walked beside her through the radiant scented garden, +with its massed roses and delphiniums, its tangle of poppy and +lupin, he suddenly beheld himself as a kind of outcast--distrusted +and disliked by an old friend like Chide, separated forever from +the good opinion of this girl whom he had loved, suspected even by +his mother, and finally crushed by this unexpected tragedy, and by +the shock of Barrington's unpardonable behavior.</p> +<p>Then his whole being reacted in a fierce protesting irritation. +He had been the victim of circumstance as much as she. His will +hardened to a passionate self-defence; he flung off, he held at +bay, an anguish that must and should be conquered. He had to live +his life. He would live it.</p> +<p>They passed into the orchard, where, amid the old trees, covered +with tiny green apples, some climbing roses were running at will, +hanging their trails of blossom, crimson and pale pink, from branch +to branch. Linnets and blackbirds made a pleasant chatter; the +grass beneath the trees was rich and soft, and through their tops, +one saw white clouds hovering in a blazing blue.</p> +<p>Diana turned suddenly toward the house.</p> +<p>"I think we may go back now," she said, and her hand contracted +and her lip, as though she realized that her dear dead friend had +left her roof forever.</p> +<p>They hurried back, but there was still time for +conversation.</p> +<p>"You knew him, of course, from a child?" she said to him, +glancing at him with timid interrogation.</p> +<p>In reply he forced himself to play that part of Ferrier's +intimate--almost son--which, indeed, she had given him, by +implication, throughout her own talk. In this she had shown a tact, +a kindness for which he owed her gratitude. She must have heard the +charges brought against him by the Ferrier party during the +election, yet, noble creature that she was, she had not believed +them. He could have thanked her aloud, till he remembered that +marked newspaper in his pocket.</p> +<p>Once a straggling rose branch caught in her dress. He stooped to +free it. Then for the first time he saw her shrink. The instinctive +service had made them man and woman again--not mind and mind; and +he perceived, with a miserable throb, that she could not be so +unconscious of his identity, his presence, their past, as she had +seemed to be.</p> +<p>She had lost--he realized it--the bloom of first youth. How thin +was the hand which gathered up her dress!--the hand once covered +with his kisses. Yet she seemed to him lovelier than ever, and he +divined her more woman than ever, more instinct with feeling, life, +and passion.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Sir James's messenger met them half-way. At the door the +ambulance waited.</p> +<p>Chide, bareheaded, and a group of doctors, gardeners, and police +stood beside it.</p> +<p>"I follow you," said Marsham to Sir James. "There is a great +deal to do."</p> +<p>Chide assented coldly. "I have written to Broadstone, and I have +sent a preliminary statement to the papers."</p> +<p>"I can take anything you want to town," said Marsham, hastily. +"I must go up this evening."</p> +<p>He handed Broadstone's telegram to Sir James.</p> +<p>Chide read it and returned it in silence. Then he entered the +ambulance, taking his seat beside the shrouded form within. Slowly +it drove away, mounted police accompanying it. It took a back way +from Beechcote, thus avoiding the crowd, which on the village side +had gathered round the gates.</p> +<p>Diana, on the steps, saw it go, following it with her eyes; +standing very white and still. Then Marsham lifted his hat to her, +conscious through every nerve of the curiosity among the little +group of people standing by. Suddenly, he thought, she too divined +it. For she looked round her, bowed to him slightly, and +disappeared with Mrs. Colwood.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He spent two or three hours at Lytchett, making the first +arrangements for the funeral, with Sir James. It was to be at +Tallyn, and the burial in the churchyard of the old Tallyn church. +Sir James gave a slow and grudging assent to this; but in the end +he did assent, after the relations between him and Marsham had +become still more strained.</p> +<p>Further statements were drawn up for the newspapers. As the +afternoon wore on the grounds and hall of Lytchett betrayed the +presence of a number of reporters, hurriedly sent thither by the +chief London and provincial papers. By now the news had travelled +through England.</p> +<p>Marsham worked hard, saving Sir James all he could. Another +messenger arrived from Lord Broadstone, with a pathetic letter for +Sir James. Chide's face darkened over it. "Broadstone must bear +up," he said to Marsham, as they stood together in Chide's sanctum. +"It was not his fault, and he has the country to think of. You tell +him so. Now, are you off?"</p> +<p>Marsham replied that his fly had been announced.</p> +<p>"What'll they offer you?" said Chide, abruptly.</p> +<p>"Offer me? It doesn't much matter, does it?--on a day like +this?" Marsham's tone was equally curt. Then he added: "I shall be +here again to-morrow."</p> +<p>Chide acquiesced. When Marsham had driven off, and as the sound +of the wheels died away, Chide uttered a fierce inarticulate sound. +His hot Irish heart swelled within him. He walked hurriedly to and +fro, his hands in his pockets.</p> +<p>"John!--John!" he groaned. "They'll be dancing and triumphing on +your grave to-night, John; and that fellow you were a father +to--like the rest. But they shall do it without me, John--they +shall do it without me!"</p> +<p>And he thought, with a grim satisfaction, of the note he had +just confided to the Premier's second messenger refusing the offer +of the Attorney-Generalship. He was sorry for Broadstone; he had +done his best to comfort him; but he would serve in no Government +with John's supplanters.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile Marsham was speeding up to town. At every way-side +station, under the evening light, he saw the long lines of +placards: "Sudden death of Mr. Ferrier. Effect on the new +Ministry." Every paper he bought was full of comments and hasty +biographies. There was more than a conventional note of loss in +them. Ferrier was not widely popular, in the sense in which many +English statesmen have been popular, but there was something in his +personality that had long since won the affection and respect of +all that public, in all classes, which really observes and directs +English affairs. He was sincerely mourned, and he would be +practically missed.</p> +<p>But the immediate effect would be the triumph of the Cave, a new +direction given to current politics. That no one doubted.</p> +<p>Marsham was lost in tumultuous thought. The truth was that the +two articles in the <i>Herald</i> of that morning, which had +arrived at Tallyn by nine o'clock, had struck him with nothing less +than consternation.</p> +<p>Ever since his interview with Barrington, he had persuaded +himself that in it he had laid the foundations of party reunion; +and he had since been eagerly scanning the signs of slow change in +the attitude of the party paper, combined--as they had been up to +this very day--with an unbroken personal loyalty to Ferrier. But +the article of this morning had shown a complete--and in Oliver's +opinion, as he read it at the breakfast-table--an extravagant +<i>volte-face</i>. It amounted to nothing less than a vehement +appeal to the new Prime Minister to intrust the leadership of the +House of Commons, at so critical a moment, to a man more truly in +sympathy with the forward policy of the party.</p> +<p>"We have hoped against hope," said the <i>Herald</i>; "we have +supported Mr. Ferrier against all opposition; but a careful +reconsideration and analysis of his latest speeches--taken together +with our general knowledge public and private, of the political +situation--have convinced us, sorely against our will, that while +Mr. Ferrier must, of course, hold one of the most important offices +in the new Cabinet, his leadership of the Commons--in view of the +two great measures to which the party is practically pledged--could +only bring calamity. He will not oppose them; that, of course, we +know; but is it possible that he can <i>fight them through</i> with +success? We appeal to his patriotism, which has never yet failed +him or us. If he will only accept the peerage he has so amply +earned, together with either the War Office or the Admiralty, and +represent the Government in the Lords, where it is sorely in need +of strength, all will be well. The leadership of the Commons must +necessarily fall to that section of the party which, through Lord +Philip's astonishing campaign, has risen so rapidly in public +favor. Lord Philip himself, indeed, is no more acceptable to the +moderates than Mr. Ferrier to the Left Wing. Heat of personal +feeling alone would prevent his filling the part successfully. But +two or three men are named, under whom Lord Philip would be content +to serve, while the moderates would have nothing to say against +them."</p> +<p>This was damaging enough. But far more serious was the +"communicated" article on the next page--"from a correspondent"--on +which the "leader" was based.</p> +<p>Marsham saw at once that the "correspondent" was really +Barrington himself, and that the article was wholly derived from +the conversation which had taken place at Tallyn, and from the +portions of Ferrier's letters, which Marsham had read or summarized +for the journalist's benefit.</p> +<p>The passage in particular which Ferrier's dying hand had +marked--he recalled the gleam in Barrington's black eyes as he had +listened to it, the instinctive movement in his powerful hand, as +though to pounce, vulturelike, on the letter--and his own qualm of +anxiety--his sudden sense of having gone too far--his insistence on +discretion.</p> +<p>Discretion indeed! The whole thing was monstrous treachery. He +had warned the man that these few sentences were not to be taken +literally--that they were, in fact, Ferrier's caricature of himself +and his true opinion. "You press on me a particular measure," they +said, in effect, "you expect the millennium from it. Well, I'll +tell you what you'll really get by it!"--and then a forecast of the +future, after the great Bill was passed, in Ferrier's most biting +vein.</p> +<p>The passage in the <i>Herald</i> was given as a paraphrase, or, +rather, as a kind of <i>reductio ad absurdum</i> of one of +Ferrier's last speeches in the House. It was, in truth, a literal +quotation from one of the letters. Barrington had an excellent +memory. He had omitted nothing. The stolen sentences made the +point, the damning point, of the article. They were not exactly +quoted as Ferrier's, but they claimed to express Ferrier more +closely than he had yet expressed himself. "We have excellent +reason to believe that this is, in truth, the attitude of Mr. +Ferrier." How, then, could a man of so cold and sceptical a temper +continue to lead the young reformers of the party? The +<i>Herald</i>, with infinite regret, made its bow to its old +leader, and went over bag and baggage to the camp of Lord Philip, +who, Marsham could not doubt, had been in close consultation with +the editor through the whole business.</p> +<p>Again and again, as the train sped on, did Marsham go back over +the fatal interview which had led to these results. His mind, full +of an agony of remorse he could not still, was full also of storm +and fury against Barrington. Never had a journalist made a more +shameful use of a trust reposed in him.</p> +<p>With torturing clearness, imagination built up the scene in the +garden: the arrival of Broadstone's letter; the hand of the +stricken man groping for the newspaper; the effort of those +pencilled lines; and, finally, that wavering mark, John Ferrier's +last word on earth.</p> +<p>If it had, indeed, been meant for him, Oliver--well, he had +received it; the dead man had reached out and touched him; he felt +the brand upon him; and it was a secret forever between Ferrier and +himself.</p> +<p>The train was nearing St. Pancras. Marsham roused himself with +an effort. After all, what fault was it of his--this tragic +coincidence of a tragic day? If Ferrier had lived, all could have +been explained; or if not all, most. And because Ferrier had died +of a sudden ailment, common among men worn out with high +responsibilities, was a man to go on reproaching himself eternally +for another man's vile behavior--for the results of an indiscretion +committed with no ill-intent whatever? With miserable self-control, +Oliver turned his mind to his approaching interview with the Prime +Minister. Up to the morning of this awful day he had been hanging +on the Cabinet news from hour to hour. The most important posts +would, of course be filled first. Afterward would come the minor +appointments--and then!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marsham found the Premier much shaken. He was an old man; he had +been a warm personal friend of Ferrier's; and the blow had hit him +hard.</p> +<p>Evidently for a few hours he had been determined to resign; but +strong influences had been brought to bear, and he had wearily +resumed his task.</p> +<p>Reluctantly, Marsham told the story. Poor Lord Broadstone could +not escape from the connection between the arrival of his letter +and the seizure which had killed his old comrade. He sat bowed +beneath it for a while; then, with a fortitude and a self-control +which never fails men of his type in times of public stress and +difficulty, he roused himself to discuss the political situation +which had arisen--so far, at least, as was necessary and fitting in +the case of a man not in the inner circle.</p> +<p>As the two men sat talking the messenger arrived from Beechcote +with Sir James Chide's letter. From the Premier's expression as he +laid it down Marsham divined that it contained Chide's refusal to +join the Government. Lord Broadstone got up and began to move to +and fro, wrapped in a cloud of thought. He seemed to forget +Marsham's presence, and Marsham made a movement to go. As he did so +Lord Broadstone looked up and came toward him.</p> +<p>"I am much obliged to you for having come so promptly," he said, +with melancholy courtesy. "I thought we should have met soon--on an +occasion--more agreeable to us both. As you are here, forgive me if +I talk business. This rough-and-tumble world has to be carried on, +and if it suits you, I shall be happy to recommend your appointment +to her Majesty--as a Junior Lord of the Treasury--carrying with it, +as of course you understand, the office of Second Whip."</p> +<p>Ten minutes later Marsham left the Prime Minister's house. As he +walked back to St. Pancras, he was conscious of yet another smart +added to the rest. If <i>anything</i> were offered to him, he had +certainly hoped for something more considerable.</p> +<p>It looked as though while the Ferrier influence had ignored him, +the Darcy influence had not troubled itself to do much for him. +That he had claims could not be denied. So this very meagre bone +had been flung him. But if he had refused it, he would have got +nothing else.</p> +<p>The appointment would involve re-election. All that infernal +business to go through again!--probably in the very midst of +disturbances in the mining district. The news from the collieries +was as bad as it could be.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He reached home very late--close on midnight. His mother had +gone to bed, ill and worn out, and was not to be disturbed. Isabel +Fotheringham and Alicia awaited him in the drawing-room.</p> +<p>Mrs. Fotheringham had arrived in the course of the evening. She +herself was peevish with fatigue, incurred in canvassing for two of +Lord Philip's most headlong supporters. Personally, she had broken +with John Ferrier some weeks before the election; but the fact had +made more impression on her own mind than on his.</p> +<p>"Well, Oliver, this is a shocking thing! However, of course, +Ferrier had been unhealthy for a long time; any one could see that. +It was really better it should end so."</p> +<p>"You take it calmly!" he said, scandalized by her manner and +tone.</p> +<p>"I am sorry, of course. But Ferrier had outlived himself. The +people I have been working among felt him merely in the way. But, +of course, I am sorry mamma is dreadfully upset. That one must +expect. Well, now then--you have seen Broadstone?"</p> +<p>She rose to question him, the political passion in her veins +asserting itself against her weariness. She was still in her +travelling dress. From her small, haggard face the reddish hair was +drawn tightly back; the spectacled eyes, the dry lips, expressed a +woman whose life had hardened to dusty uses. Her mere aspect +chilled and repelled her brother, and he answered her questions +shortly.</p> +<p>"Broadstone has treated you shabbily!" she remarked, with +decision; "but I suppose you will have to put up with it. And this +terrible thing that has happened to-day may tell against you when +it comes to the election. Ferrier will be looked upon as a martyr, +and we shall suffer."</p> +<p>Oliver turned his eyes for relief to Alicia. She, in a soft +black dress, with many slender chains, studded with beautiful +turquoises, about her white neck, rested and cheered his sight. The +black was for sympathy with the family sorrow; the turquoises were +there because he specially admired them; he understood them both. +The night was hot, and without teasing him with questions she had +brought him a glass of iced lemonade, touching him caressingly on +the arm while he drank it.</p> +<p>"Poor Mr. Ferrier! It was terribly, terribly sad!" Her voice was +subtly tuned and pitched. It made no fresh claim on emotion, of +which, in his mental and moral exhaustion, he had none to give; but +it more than met the decencies of the situation, which Isabel had +flouted.</p> +<p>"So there will be another election?" she said, presently, still +standing in front of him, erect and provocative, her eyes fixed on +his.</p> +<p>"Yes; but I sha'n't be such a brute as to bother you with it +this time."</p> +<p>"I shall decide that for myself," she said, lightly. Then--after +a pause: "So Lord Philip has won!--all along the line! I should +like to know that man!"</p> +<p>"You do know him."</p> +<p>"Oh, just to pass the time of day. That's nothing. But I am to +meet him at the Treshams' next week." Her eyes sparkled a little. +Marsham glanced at his sister, who was gathering up some small +possessions at the end of the room.</p> +<p>"Don't try and make a fool of him!" he said, in a low voice. +"He's not your sort."</p> +<p>"Isn't he?" She laughed. "I suppose he's one of the biggest men +in England now. And somebody told me the other day that, after +losing two or three fortunes, he had just got another."</p> +<p>Marsham nodded.</p> +<p>"Altogether, an excellent <i>parti</i>."</p> +<p>Alicia's infectious laugh broke out. She sat down beside him, +with her hands round her knees.</p> +<p>"You look miles better than when you came in. But I think--you'd +better go to bed."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>As Marsham, in undressing, flung his coat upon a chair, the copy +of the <i>Herald</i> which he had momentarily forgotten fell out of +the inner pocket. He raised it--irresolute. Should he tear it up, +and throw the fragments away?</p> +<p>No. He could not bring himself to do it. It was as though +Ferrier, lying still and cold at Lytchett, would know of it--as +though the act would do some roughness to the dead.</p> +<p>He went into his sitting-room, found an empty drawer in his +writing-table, thrust in the newspaper, and closed the drawer.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<br> +<p>"I regard this second appeal to West Brookshire as an insult!" +said the Vicar of Beechcote, hotly. "If Mr. Marsham must needs +accept an office that involved re-election he might have gone +elsewhere. I see there is already a vacancy by death--and a Liberal +seat, too--in Sussex. <i>We</i> told him pretty plainly what we +thought of him last time."</p> +<p>"And now I suppose you will turn him out?" asked the doctor, +lazily. In the beatitude induced by a completed article and an +afternoon smoke, he was for the moment incapable of taking a tragic +view either of Marsham's shortcomings or his prospects.</p> +<p>"Certainly, we shall turn him out."</p> +<p>"Ah!--a Labor candidate?" said the doctor, showing a little more +energy.</p> +<p>Whereupon the Vicar, with as strong a relish for the +<i>primeur</i> of an important piece of news as any secular +fighter, described a meeting held the night before in one of the +mining villages, at which he had been a speaker. The meeting had +decided to run a miners' candidate; expenses had been guaranteed; +and the resolution passed meant, according to Lavery, that Marsham +would be badly beaten, and that Colonel Simpson, his Conservative +opponent, would be handsomely presented with a seat in Parliament, +to which his own personal merits had no claim whatever.</p> +<p>"But that we put up with," said the Vicar, grimly. "The joy of +turning out Marsham is compensation."</p> +<p>The doctor turned an observant eye on his companion's clerical +coat.</p> +<p>"Shall we hear these sentiments next Sunday from the pulpit?" he +asked, mildly.</p> +<p>The Vicar had the grace to blush slightly.</p> +<p>"I say, no doubt, more than I should say," he admitted. Then he +rose, buttoning his long coat down his long body deliberately, as +though by the action he tried to restrain the surge within; but it +overflowed all the same. "I know now," he said, with a kindling +eye, holding out a gaunt hand in farewell, "what our Lord meant by +sending, not peace--but a sword!"</p> +<p>"So, no doubt, did Torquemada!" replied the doctor, surveying +him.</p> +<p>The Vicar rose to the challenge.</p> +<p>"I will be no party to the usual ignorant abuse of the +Inquisition," he said, firmly. "We live in days of license, and +have no right to sit in judgment on our forefathers."</p> +<p>"<i>Your</i> forefathers," corrected the doctor. "Mine +burned."</p> +<p>The Vicar first laughed; then grew serious. "Well, I'll allow +you two opinions on the Inquisition, but not--" he lifted a +gesticulating hand--"<i>not</i> two opinions on mines which are +death-traps for lack of a little money to make them +safe--<i>not</i> on the kind of tyranny which says to a man: +'Strike if you like, and take a week's notice at the same time to +give up your cottage, which belongs to the colliery'--or, 'Make a +fuss about allotments if you dare, and see how long you keep your +berth in my employment: we don't want any agitators here'--or +maintains, against all remonstrance, a brutal manager in office, +whose rule crushes out a man's self-respect, and embitters his +soul!"</p> +<p>"You charge all these things against Marsham?"</p> +<p>"He--or, rather, his mother--has a large holding in collieries +against which I charge them."</p> +<p>"H'm. Lady Lucy isn't standing for West Brookshire."</p> +<p>"No matter. The son's teeth are set on edge. Marsham has been +appealed to, and has done nothing--attempted nothing. He makes +eloquent Liberal speeches, and himself spends money got by grinding +the poor!"</p> +<p>"You make him out a greater fool than I believe him," said the +doctor. "He has probably attempted a great deal, and finds his +power limited. Moreover, he has been eight years member here, and +these charges are quite new."</p> +<p>"Because the spirit abroad is new!" cried the Vicar. "Men will +no longer bear what their fathers bore. The old excuses, the old +pleas, serve no longer. I tell you the poor are tired of their +patience! The Kingdom of Heaven, in its earthly aspect, is not to +be got that way--no! 'The violent take it by force!' And as to your +remark about Marsham, half the champions of democracy in this +country are in the same box: prating about liberty and equality +abroad; grinding their servants and underpaying their laborers at +home. I know scores of them; and how any of them keep a straight +face at a public meeting I never could understand. There is a +French proverb that exactly expresses them--"</p> +<p>"I know," murmured the doctor, "I know. '<i>Joie de rue, douleur +de maison</i>.' Well, and so, to upset Marsham, you are going to +let the Tories in, eh?--with all the old tyrannies and briberies on +their shoulders?--naked and unashamed. Hullo!"--he looked round +him--"don't tell Patricia I said so--or Hugh."</p> +<p>"There is no room for a middle party," was the Vicar's fierce +reply. "Socialists on the one side, Tories on the other!--that'll +be the Armageddon of the future."</p> +<p>The doctor, declining to be drawn, nodded placidly through the +clouds of smoke that enwrapped him. The Vicar hurried away, +accompanied, however, furtively to the door, even to the gate of +the drive, by Mrs. Roughsedge, who had questions to ask.</p> +<p>She came back presently with a thoughtful countenance.</p> +<p>"I asked him what he thought I ought to do about those tales I +told you of."</p> +<p>"Why don't you settle for yourself?" cried the doctor, testily. +"That is the way you women flatter the pride of these priests!"</p> +<p>"Not at all. <i>You</i> make him talk nonsense; I find him a +fount of wisdom."</p> +<p>"I admit he knows some moral theology," said Roughsedge, +thoughtfully. "He has thought a good deal about 'sins' and 'sin.' +Well, what was his view about these particular 'sinners'?"</p> +<p>"He thinks Diana ought to know."</p> +<p>"She can't do any good, and it will keep her awake at nights. I +object altogether."</p> +<p>However, Mrs. Roughsedge, having first dropped a pacifying kiss +on her husband's gray hair, went up-stairs to put on her things, +declaring that she was going there and then to Beechcote.</p> +<p>The doctor was left to ponder over the gossip in question, and +what Diana could possibly do to meet it. Poor child!--was she never +to be free from scandal and publicity?</p> +<p>As to the couple of people involved--Fred Birch and that odious +young woman Miss Fanny Merton--he did not care in the least what +happened to them. And he could not see, for the life of him, why +Diana should care either. But of course she would. In her +ridiculous way, she would think she had some kind of +responsibility, just because the girl's mother and her mother +happened to have been brought up in the same nursery.</p> +<p>"A plague on Socialist vicars, and a plague on dear good women!" +thought the doctor, knocking out his pipe. "What with philanthropy +and this delicate altruism that takes the life out of women, the +world becomes a kind of impenetrable jungle, in which everybody's +business is intertwined with everybody else's, and there is nobody +left with primitive brutality enough to hew a way through! And +those of us that might lead a decent life on this ill-arranged +planet are all crippled and hamstrung by what we call +unselfishness." The doctor vigorously replenished his pipe. "I vow +I will go to Greece next spring, and leave Patricia behind!"</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Roughsedge walked to Beechcote--in meditation. +The facts she pondered were these, to put them as shortly as +possible. Fred Birch was fast becoming the <i>mauvais sujet</i> of +the district. His practice was said to be gone, his money affairs +were in a desperate condition, and his mother and sister had +already taken refuge with relations. He had had recourse to the +time-honored expedients of his type: betting on horses and on +stocks with other people's money. It was said that he had kept on +the safe side of the law; but one or two incidents in his career +had emerged to light quite recently, which had led all the +scrupulous in Dunscombe to close their doors upon him; and as he +had no means of bribing the unscrupulous, he had now become a mere +object-lesson for babes as to the advantages of honesty.</p> +<p>At the same time Miss Fanny Merton, first introduced to +Brookshire by Brookshire's favorite, Diana Mallory, was constantly +to be seen in the black sheep's company. They had been observed +together, both in London and the country--at race-meetings and +theatres; and a brawl in the Dunscombe refreshment-room, late at +night, in which Birch had been involved, brought out the scandalous +fact that Miss Merton was in his company. Birch was certainly not +sober, and it was said by the police that Miss Merton also had had +more port wine than was good for her.</p> +<p>All this Brookshire knew, and none of it did Diana know. Since +her return she and Mrs. Colwood had lived so quietly within their +own borders that the talk of the neighborhood rarely reached her, +and those persons who came in contact with her were far too deeply +touched by the signs of suffering in the girl's face and manner to +breathe a word that might cause her fresh pain. Brookshire knew, +through one or other of the mysterious channels by which such news +travels, that the two cousins were uncongenial; that it was Fanny +Merton who had revealed to Diana her mother's history, and in an +abrupt, unfeeling way; and that the two girls were not now in +communication. Fanny had been boarding with friends in Bloomsbury, +and was supposed to be returning to her family in Barbadoes in the +autumn.</p> +<p>The affair at the refreshment-room was to be heard of at Petty +Sessions, and would, therefore, get into the local papers. Mrs. +Roughsedge felt there was nothing for it; Diana must be told. But +she hated her task.</p> +<p>On reaching Beechcote she noticed a fly at the door, and paused +a moment to consider whether her visit might not be inopportune. It +was a beautiful day, and Diana and Mrs. Colwood were probably to be +found in some corner of the garden. Mrs. Roughsedge walked round +the side of the house to reconnoitre.</p> +<p>As she reached the beautiful old terrace at the back of the +house, on which the drawing-room opened, suddenly a figure came +flying through the drawing-room window--the figure of a girl in a +tumbled muslin dress, with a large hat, and a profusion of feathers +and streamers fluttering about her. In her descent upon the terrace +she dropped her gloves; stooping to pick them up, she dropped her +boa; in her struggle to recapture that, she trod on and tore her +dress.</p> +<p><i>"Damn</i>!" said the young lady, furiously.</p> +<p>And at the voice, the word, the figure, Mrs. Roughsedge stood +arrested and open-mouthed, her old woman's bonnet slipping back a +little on her gray curls.</p> +<p>The young woman was Fanny Merton. She had evidently just +arrived, and was in search of Diana. Mrs. Roughsedge thought a +moment, and then turned and sadly walked home again. No good +interfering now! Poor Diana would have to tackle the situation for +herself.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Diana and Mrs. Colwood were on the lawn, surreptitiously at work +on clothes for the child in the spinal jacket, who was soon going +away to a convalescent home, and had to be rigged out. The grass +was strewn with pieces of printed cotton and flannel, with books +and work-baskets. But they were not sitting where Ferrier had +looked his last upon the world three weeks before. There, under the +tall limes, across the lawn, on that sad and sacred spot, Diana +meant in the autumn to plant a group of cypresses (the tree of +mourning) "for remembrance."</p> +<p>"Fanny!" cried Diana, in amazement, rising from her chair.</p> +<p>At her cousin's voice, Fanny halted, a few yards away.</p> +<p>"Well," she said, defiantly, "of course I know you didn't expect +to see me!"</p> +<p>Diana had grown very pale. Muriel saw a shiver run through +her--the shiver of the victim brought once more into the presence +of the torturer.</p> +<p>"I thought you were in London," she stammered, moving forward +and holding out her hand mechanically. "Please come and sit down." +She cleared a chair of the miscellaneous needlework upon it.</p> +<p>"I want to speak to you very particularly," said Fanny. "And +it's private!" She looked at Mrs. Colwood, with whom she had +exchanged a frosty greeting. Diana made a little imploring sign, +and Muriel--unwillingly--moved away toward the house.</p> +<p>"Well, I don't suppose you want to have anything to do with me," +said Fanny, after a moment, in a sulky voice. "But, after all, +you're mother's niece. I'm in a pretty tight fix, and it mightn't +be very pleasant for you if things came to the worst."</p> +<p>She had thrown off her hat, and was patting and pulling the +numerous puffs and bandeaux, in which her hair was arranged, with a +nervous hand. Diana was aghast at her appearance. The dirty finery +of her dress had sunk many degrees in the scale of decency and +refinement since February. Her staring brunette color had grown +patchy and unhealthy, her eyes had a furtive audacity, her lips a +coarseness, which might have been always there; but in the winter, +youth and high spirits had to some extent disguised them.</p> +<p>"Aren't you soon going home?" asked Diana, looking at her with a +troubled brow.</p> +<p>"No, I'm--I'm engaged. I thought you might have known that!" The +girl turned fiercely upon her.</p> +<p>"No--I hadn't heard--"</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know where you live all your time!" said Fanny, +impatiently. "There's heaps of people at Dunscombe know that I've +been engaged to Fred Birch for three months. I wasn't going to +write to you, of course, because I--well!--I knew you thought I'd +been rough on you--about that--you know."</p> +<p>"<i>Fred Birch!</i>" Diana's voice was faltering and amazed.</p> +<p>Fanny twisted her hat in her hands.</p> +<p>"He's all right," she said, angrily, "if his business hadn't +been ruined by a lot of nasty crawling tale-tellers. If people'd +only mind their own business! However, there it is--he's ruined--he +hasn't got a penny piece--and, of course, he can't marry me, +if--well, if somebody don't help us out."</p> +<p>Diana's face changed.</p> +<p>"Do you mean that I should help you out?"</p> +<p>"Well, there's no one else!" said Fanny, still, as it seemed, +defying something or some one.</p> +<p>"I gave you--a thousand pounds."</p> +<p>"You gave it <i>mother I</i> I got precious little of it. I've +had to borrow, lately, from people in the boarding-house. And I +can't get any more--there! I'm just broke--stony."</p> +<p>She was still looking straight before her, but her lip +trembled.</p> +<p>Diana bent forward impetuously.</p> +<p>"Fanny!" she said, laying her hand on her cousin's, "<i>do</i> +go home!"</p> +<p>Fanny's lip continued to tremble.</p> +<p>"I tell you I'm engaged," she repeated, in a muffled voice.</p> +<p>"Don't marry him!" cried Diana, imploringly. "He's not--he's not +a good man."</p> +<p>"What do you know about it? He's well enough, though I dare say +he's not your sort. He'd be all right if somebody would just lend a +hand--help him with the debts, and put him on his feet again. He +suits me, anyway. I'm not so thin-skinned."</p> +<p>Diana stiffened. Fanny's manner--as of old--was almost +incredible, considered as the manner of one in difficulties asking +for help. The sneering insolence of it inevitably provoked the +person addressed.</p> +<p>"Have you told Aunt Bertha?" she said, coldly--"asked her +consent?"</p> +<p>"Mother? Oh, I've told her I'm engaged. She knows very well that +I manage my own business."</p> +<p>Diana withdrew her chair a little.</p> +<p>"When are you going to be married? Are you still with those +friends?"</p> +<p>Fanny laughed.</p> +<p>"Oh, Lord, no! I fell out with them long ago. They were a +wretched lot! But I found a girl I knew, and we set up together. +I've been in a blouse-shop earning thirty shillings a week--there! +And if I hadn't, I'd have starved!"</p> +<p>Fanny raised her head. Their eyes met: Fanny's full of mingled +bravado and misery; Diana's suddenly stricken with deep and +remorseful distress.</p> +<p>"Fanny, I told you to write to me if there was anything wrong! +Why didn't you?"</p> +<p>"You hated me!" said Fanny, sullenly.</p> +<p>"I didn't!" cried Diana, the tears rising to her eyes. "But--you +hurt me so!" Then again she bent forward, laying her hand on her +cousin's, speaking fast and low. "Fanny, I'm very sorry!--if I'd +known you were in trouble I'd have come or written--I thought you +were with friends, and I knew the money had been paid. But, Fanny, +I <i>implore</i> you!--give up Mr. Birch! Nobody speaks well of +him! You'll be miserable!--you must be!"</p> +<p>"Too late to think of that!" said Fanny, doggedly.</p> +<p>Diana looked up in sudden terror. Fanny tried to brazen it out. +But all the patchy color left her cheeks, and, dropping her head on +her hands, she began to sob. Yet even the sobs were angry.</p> +<p>"I can go and drown myself!" she said, passionately, "and I +suppose I'd better. Nobody cares whether I do or not! He's made a +fool of me--I don't suppose mother'll take me home again. And if he +doesn't marry me, I'll kill myself somehow--it don't matter +how--before--I've got to!"</p> +<p>Diana had dropped on her knees beside her visitor. +Unconsciously--pitifully--she breathed her cousin's name. Fanny +looked up. She wrenched herself violently away.</p> +<p>"Oh, it's all very well!--but we can't all be such saints as +you. It'd be all right if he married me directly--<i>directly</i>," +she repeated, hurriedly.</p> +<p>Diana knelt still immovable. In her face was that agonized shock +and recoil with which the young and pure, the tenderly cherished +and guarded, receive the first withdrawal of the veil which hides +from them the more brutal facts of life. But, as she knelt there, +gazing at Fanny, another expression stole upon and effaced the +first. Taking shape and body, as it were, from the experience of +the moment, there rose into sight the new soul developed in her by +this tragic year. Not for her--not for Juliet Sparling's +daughter--the plea of cloistered innocence! By a sharp transition +her youth had passed from the Chamber of Maiden Thought into the +darkened Chamber of Experience. She had steeped her heart in the +waters of sin and suffering; she put from her in an instant the +mere maiden panic which had drawn her to her knees.</p> +<p>"Fanny, I'll help you!" she said, in a low voice, putting her +arms round her cousin. "Don't cry--I'll help you."</p> +<p>Fanny raised her head. In Diana's face there was something +which, for the first time, roused in the other a nascent sense of +shame. The color came rushing into her cheeks; her eyes wavered +painfully.</p> +<p>"You must come and stay here," said Diana, almost in a whisper. +"And where is Mr. Birch? I must see him."</p> +<p>She rose as she spoke; her voice had a decision, a sternness, +that Fanny for once did not resent. But she shook her head +despairingly.</p> +<p>"I can't get at him. He sends my letters back. He'll not marry +me unless he's paid to."</p> +<p>"When did you see him last?"</p> +<p>Gradually the whole story emerged. The man had behaved as the +coarse and natural man face to face with temptation and opportunity +is likely to behave. The girl had been the victim first and +foremost of her own incredible folly. And Diana could not escape +the idea that on Birch's side there had not been wanting from the +first an element of sinister calculation. If her relations objected +to the situation, it could, of course, be made worth his while to +change it. All his recent sayings and doings, as Fanny reported +them, clearly bore this interpretation.</p> +<p>As Diana sat, dismally pondering, an idea flashed upon her. Sir +James Chide was to dine at Beechcote that night. He was expected +early, would take in Beechcote, indeed, on his way from the train +to Lytchett. Who else should advise her if not he? In a hundred +ways, practical and tender, he had made her understand that, for +her mother's sake and her own, she was to him as a daughter.</p> +<p>She mentioned him to Fanny.</p> +<p>"Of course"--she hurried over the words--"we need only say that +you have been engaged. We must consult him, I suppose, about--about +breach of promise of marriage."</p> +<p>The odious, hearsay phrase came out with difficulty. But Fanny's +eyes glistened at the name of the great lawyer.</p> +<p>Her feelings toward the man who had betrayed her were clearly a +medley of passion and of hatred. She loved him as she was able to +love; and she wished, at the same time, to coerce and be revenged +on him. The momentary sense of shame had altogether passed. It was +Diana who, with burning cheeks, stipulated that while Fanny must +not return to town, but must stay at Beechcote till matters were +arranged, she should not appear during Sir James's visit; and it +was Fanny who said, with vindictive triumph, as Diana left her in +her room; "Sir James'll know well enough what sort of damages I +could get!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>After dinner Diana and Sir James walked up and down the +lime-walk in the August moonlight. His affection, as soon as he saw +her, had been conscious of yet another strain upon her, but till +she began to talk to him <i>tête-à-tête</i> he +got no clew to it; and even then what he guessed had very little to +do with what she said. She told her cousin's story so far as she +meant to tell it with complete self-possession. Her cousin was in +love with this wretched man, and had got herself terribly talked +about. She could not be persuaded to give him up, while he could +only be induced to marry her by the prospect of money. Could Sir +James see him and find out how much would content him, and whether +any decent employment could be found for him?</p> +<p>Sir James held his peace, except for the "Yeses" and "Noes" that +Diana's conversation demanded. He would certainly interview the +young man; he was very sorry for her anxieties; he would see what +could be done.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, he never communicated to her that he had travelled +down to Beechcote in the same carriage with Lady Felton, the county +gossip, and that in addition to other matters--of which more +anon--the refreshment-room story had been discussed between them, +with additions and ramifications leading to very definite +conclusions in any rational mind as to the nature of the bond +between Diana's cousin and the young Dunscombe solicitor. Lady +Felton had expressed her concern for Miss Mallory. "Poor thing!--do +you think she knows? Why on earth did she ever ask him to +Beechcote! Alicia Drake told me she saw him there."</p> +<p>These things Sir James did not disclose. He played Diana's game +with perfect discretion. He guessed, even that Fanny was in the +house, but he said not a word. No need at all to question the young +woman. If in such a case he could not get round a rascally +solicitor, what could he do?--and what was the good of being the +leader of the criminal Bar?</p> +<p>Only when Diana, at the end of their walk, shyly remarked that +money was not to stand in the way; that she had plenty; that +Beechcote was no doubt too expensive for her, but that the tenancy +was only a yearly one, and she had but to give notice at +Michaelmas, which she thought of doing--only then did Sir James +allow himself a laugh.</p> +<p>"You think I am going to let this business turn you out of +Beechcote--eh?--you preposterous little angel!"</p> +<p>"Not this business," stammered Diana; "but I am really living at +too great a rate."</p> +<p>Sir James grinned, patted her ironically on the shoulder, told +her to be a good girl, and departed.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Fanny stayed for a week at Beechcote, and at the end of that +time Diana and Mrs. Colwood accompanied her on a Saturday to town, +and she was married, to a sheepish and sulky bridegroom, by special +license, at a Marylebone church--Sir James Chide, in the +background, looking on. They departed for a three days' holiday to +Brighton, and on the fourth day they were due to sail by a West +Indian steamer for Barbadoes, where Sir James had procured for Mr. +Frederick Birch a post in the office of a large sugar estate, in +which an old friend of Chide's had an interest. Fanny showed no +rapture in the prospect of thus returning to the bosom of her +family. But there was no help for it.</p> +<p>By what means the transformation scene had been effected it +would be waste of time to inquire. Much to Diana's chagrin, Sir +James entirely declined to allow her to aid in it financially, +except so far as equipping her cousin with clothes went, and +providing her with a small sum for her wedding journey. Personally, +he considered that the week during which Fanny stayed at Beechcote +was as much as Diana could be expected to contribute, and that she +had indeed paid the lion's share.</p> +<p>Yet that week--if he had known--was full of strange comfort to +Diana. Often Muriel, watching her, would escape to her own room to +hide her tears. Fanny's second visit was not as her first. The +first had seen the outraging and repelling of the nobler nature by +the ignoble. Diana had frankly not been able to endure her cousin. +There was not a trace of that now. Her father's papers had told her +abundantly how flimsy, how nearly fraudulent, was the financial +claim which Fanny and her belongings had set up. The thousand +pounds had been got practically on false pretences, and Diana knew +it now, in every detail. Yet neither toward that, nor toward +Fanny's other and worse lapses, did she show any bitterness, any +spirit of mere disgust and reprobation. The last vestige of that +just, instinctive pharisaism which clothes an unstained youth had +dropped from her. As the heir of her mother's fate, she had gone +down into the dark sea of human wrong and misery, and she had +emerged transformed, more akin by far to the wretched and the +unhappy than to the prosperous and the untempted, so that, through +all repulsion and shock, she took Fanny now as she found +her--bearing with her--accepting her--loving her, as far as she +could. At the last even that stubborn nature was touched. When +Diana kissed her after the wedding, with a few tremulous good +wishes, Fanny's gulp was not all excitement. Yet it must still be +recorded that on the wedding-day Fanny was in the highest spirits, +only marred by some annoyance that she had let Diana persuade her +out of a white satin wedding-dress.</p> +<br> +<a name="image-462.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-462.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-462.jpg" width="44%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Sir James played Diana's game with perfect discretion"</b></p> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Diana's preoccupation with this matter carried her through the +first week of Marsham's second campaign, and deadened so far the +painful effect of the contest now once more thundering through the +division. For it was even a more odious battle than the first had +been. In the first place, the moderate Liberals held a meeting very +early in the struggle, with Sir William Felton in the chair, to +protest against the lukewarm support which Marsham had given to the +late leader of the Opposition, to express their lamentation for +Ferrier, and their distrust of Lord Philip; and to decide upon a +policy.</p> +<p>At the meeting a heated speech was made by a gray-haired squire, +an old friend and Oxford contemporary of John Ferrier's, who +declared that he had it on excellent authority that the +communicated article in the <i>Herald</i>, which had appeared on +the morning of Ferrier's sudden death, had been written by Oliver +Marsham.</p> +<p>This statement was reported in the newspapers of the following +morning, and was at once denied by Marsham himself, in a brief +letter to the <i>Times</i>.</p> +<p>It was this letter which Lady Felton discussed hotly with Sir +James Chide on the day when Fanny Merton's misdemeanors also came +up for judgment.</p> +<p>"He says he didn't write it. Sir William declares--a mere +quibble! He has it from several people that Barrington was at +Tallyn two days before the article appeared, and that he spoke to +one or two friends next day of an 'important' conversation with +Marsham, and of the first-hand information he had got from it. +Nobody was so likely as Oliver to have that intimate knowledge of +poor Mr. Ferrier's intentions and views. William believes that he +gave Barrington all the information in the article, and wrote +nothing himself, in order that he might be able to deny it."</p> +<p>Sir James met these remarks with an impenetrable face. He +neither defended Marsham, nor did he join in Lady Felton's +denunciations. But that good lady, who though voluble was shrewd, +told her husband afterward that she was certain Sir James believed +Marsham to be responsible for the <i>Herald</i> article.</p> +<p>A week later the subject was renewed at a very heated and +disorderly meeting at Dunscombe. A bookseller's assistant, well +known as one of the leading Socialists of the division, got up and +in a suave mincing voice accused Marsham of having--not written, +but--"communicated" the <i>Herald</i> article, and so dealt a +treacherous blow at his old friend and Parliamentary leader--a blow +which had no doubt contributed to the situation culminating in Mr. +Ferrier's tragic death.</p> +<p>Marsham, very pale, sprang up at once, denied the charge, and +fiercely attacked the man who had made it. But there was something +so venomous in the manner of his denial, so undignified in the +personalities with which it was accompanied, that the meeting +suddenly took offence. The attack, instead of dying down, was +renewed. Speaker after speaker got up and heckled the candidate. +Was Mr. Marsham aware that the editor of the <i>Herald</i> had been +staying at Tallyn two days before the article appeared? Was he also +aware that his name had been freely mentioned, in the <i>Herald</i> +office, in connection with the article?</p> +<p>Marsham in vain endeavored to regain sang-froid and composure +under these attacks. He haughtily repeated his denial, and refused +to answer any more questions on the subject.</p> +<p>The local Tory paper rushed into the fray, and had presently +collected a good deal of what it was pleased to call evidence on +the matter, mainly gathered from London reporters. The matter began +to look serious. Marsham appealed to Barrington to contradict the +rumor publicly, as "absurd and untrue." But, unfortunately, +Barrington, who was a man of quick and gusty temper, had been +nettled by an incautious expression of Marsham's with regard to the +famous article in his Dunscombe speech--"if I had had any intention +whatever of dealing a dishonorable blow at my old friend and +leader, I could have done it a good deal more effectively, I can +assure you; I should not have put what I had to say in a form so +confused and contradictory."</p> +<p>This--together with the general denial--happened to reach +Barrington, and it rankled. When, therefore, Marsham appealed to +him, he brusquely replied:</p> +<blockquote>"DEAR MR. MARSHAM,--You know best what share you had in +the <i>Herald</i> article. You certainly did not write it. But to +my mind it very faithfully reproduced the gist of our conversation +on a memorable evening. And, moreover, I believe and still believe +that you intended the reproduction. Believe me, Yours faithfully, +ERNEST BARRINGTON."</blockquote> +<p>To this Marsham returned a stiff answer, giving his own account +of what had taken place, and regretting that even a keen journalist +should have thought it consistent with his honor to make such +injurious and unfair use of "my honest attempt to play the +peacemaker" between the different factions of the party.</p> +<p>To this letter Barrington made no reply. Marsham, sore and +weary, yet strung by now to an obstinacy and a fighting passion +which gave a new and remarkable energy to his personality, threw +himself fresh into a hopeless battle. For a time, indeed, the tide +appeared to turn. He had been through two Parliaments a popular and +successful member; less popular, no doubt, in the second than in +the first, as the selfish and bitter strains in his character +became more apparent. Still he had always commanded a strong +personal following, especially among the younger men of the towns +and villages, who admired his lithe and handsome presence, and +appreciated his reputation as a sportsman and volunteer. Lady +Lucy's subscriptions, too, were an element in the matter not to be +despised.</p> +<p>A rally began in the Liberal host, which had felt itself already +beaten. Marsham's meetings improved, the <i>Herald</i> article was +apparently forgotten.</p> +<p>The anxiety now lay chiefly in the mining villages, where +nothing seemed to affect the hostile attitude of the inhabitants. A +long series of causes had led up to it, to be summed up perhaps in +one--the harsh and domineering temper of the man who had for years +managed the three Tallyn collieries, and who held Lady Lucy and her +co-shareholders in the hollow of his hand. Lady Lucy, whose curious +obstinacy had been roused, would not dismiss him, and nothing less +than his summary dismissal would have appeased the dull hatred of +six hundred miners.</p> +<p>Marsham had indeed attempted to put through a number of minor +reforms, but the effect on the temper of the district had been, in +the end, little or nothing. The colliers, who had once fervently +supported him, thought of him now, either as a fine gentleman +profiting pecuniarily by the ill deeds of a tyrant, or as +sheltering behind his mother's skirts; the Socialist Vicar of +Beechcote thundered against him; and for some time every meeting of +his in the colliery villages was broken up. But in the more hopeful +days of the last week, when the canvassing returns, together with +Marsham's astonishing energy and brilliant speaking, had revived +the failing heart of the party, it was resolved to hold a final +meeting, on the night before the poll, at Hartingfield-on-the-Wold, +the largest of the mining villages.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marsham left Dunscombe for Hartingfield about six o'clock on an +August evening, driving the coach, with its superb team of horses, +which had become by now so familiar an object in the division. He +was to return in time to make the final speech in the concluding +Liberal meeting of the campaign, which was to be held that night, +with the help of some half-dozen other members of Parliament, in +the Dunscombe Corn Exchange.</p> +<p>A body of his supporters, gathered in the market-place, cheered +him madly as the coach set off. Marsham stopped the horses for a +minute outside the office of the local paper. The weekly issue came +out that afternoon. It was handed up to him, and the coach rattled +on.</p> +<p>McEwart, who was sitting beside him, opened it, and presently +gave a low involuntary whistle of dismay. Marsham looked round.</p> +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> +<p>McEwart would have gladly flung the paper away. But looking +round him he saw that several other persons on the top of the coach +had copies, and that whispering consternation had begun.</p> +<p>He saw nothing for it but to hand the paper to Marsham. "This is +playing it pretty low down!" he said, pointing to an item in large +letters on the first page.</p> +<p>Marsham handed the reins to the groom beside him and took the +paper. He saw, printed in full, Barrington's curt letter to himself +on the subject of the <i>Herald</i> article, and below it the +jubilant and scathing comments of the Tory editor.</p> +<p>He read both carefully, and gave the paper back to McEwart. +"That decides the election," he said, calmly. McEwart's face +assented.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marsham, however, never showed greater pluck than at the +Hartingfield meeting. It was a rowdy and disgraceful business, in +which from beginning to end he scarcely got a hearing for more than +three sentences at a time. A shouting mob of angry men, animated by +passions much more than political, held him at bay. But on this +occasion he never once lost his temper; he caught the questions and +insults hurled at him, and threw them back with unfailing skill; +and every now and then, at some lull in the storm, he made himself +heard, and to good purpose. His courage and coolness propitiated +some and exasperated others.</p> +<p>A group of very rough fellows pursued him, shouting and yelling, +as he left the school-room where the meeting was held.</p> +<p>"Take care!" said McEwart, hurrying him along. "They are +beginning with stones, and I see no police about."</p> +<p>The little party of visitors made for the coach, protected by +some of the villagers. But in the dusk the stones came flying fast +and freely. Just as Marsham was climbing into his seat he was +struck. McEwart saw him waver, and heard a muttered +exclamation.</p> +<p>"You're hurt!" he said, supporting him. "Let the groom +drive."</p> +<p>Marsham pushed him away.</p> +<p>"It's nothing." He gathered up the reins, the grooms who had +been holding the horses' heads clambered into their places, a touch +of the whip, and the coach was off, almost at a gallop, pursued by +a shower of missiles.</p> +<p>After a mile at full speed Marsham pulled in the horses, and +handed the reins to the groom. As he did so a low groan escaped +him.</p> +<p>"You <i>are</i> hurt!" exclaimed McEwart. "Where did they hit +you?"</p> +<p>Marsham shook his head.</p> +<p>"Better not talk," he said, in a whisper, "Drive home."</p> +<p>An hour afterward, it was announced to the crowded gathering in +the Dunscombe Corn Exchange that Mr. Marsham had been hurt by a +stone at Hartingfield, and could not address the meeting. The +message was received with derision rather than sympathy. It was +universally believed that the injury was a mere excuse, and that +the publication of that most damning letter, on the very eve of the +poll, was the sole and only cause why the Junior Lord of the +Treasury failed on this occasion to meet the serried rows of his +excited countrymen, waiting for him in the packed and stifling +hall.</p> +<p>It was the Vicar who took the news to Beechcote. As in the case +of Diana herself, the misfortune of the enemy instantly transformed +a roaring lion into a sucking dove. Some instinct told him that she +must hear it gently. He therefore invented an errand, saw Muriel +Colwood, and left the tale with her--both of the blow and the +letter.</p> +<p>Muriel, trembling inwardly, broke it as lightly and casually as +she could. An injury to the spine--so it was reported. No doubt +rest and treatment would soon amend it. A London surgeon had been +sent for. Meanwhile the election was said to be lost. Muriel +reluctantly produced the letter in the <i>West Brookshire +Gazette</i>, knowing that in the natural course of things Diana +must see it on the morrow.</p> +<p>Diana sat bowed over the letter and the news, and presently +lifted up a white face, kissed Muriel, who was hovering round her, +and begged to be left alone.</p> +<p>She went to her room. The windows were wide open to the woods, +and the golden August moon shone above the down in its bare full +majesty. Most of the night she sat crouched beside the window, her +head resting on the ledge. Her whole nature hungered--and +hungered--for Oliver. As she lifted her eyes, she saw the little +dim path on the hill-side; she felt his arms round about her, his +warm life against hers. Nothing that he had done, nothing that he +could do, had torn him, or would ever tear him, from her heart. And +now he was wounded--defeated--perhaps disgraced; and she could not +help him, could not comfort him.</p> +<p>She supposed Alicia Drake was with him. For the first time a +torment of fierce jealousy ran through her nature, like fire +through a forest glade, burning up its sweetness.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<br> +<p>"What time is the carriage ordered for Mr. Nixon?" asked Marsham +of his servant.</p> +<p>"Her ladyship, sir, told me to tell the stables four-twenty at +Dunscombe."</p> +<p>"Let me hear directly the carriage arrives. And, Richard, go and +see if the Dunscombe paper is come, and bring it up."</p> +<p>The footman disappeared. As soon as the door was shut Marsham +sank back into his cushions with a stifled groan. He was lying on a +sofa in his own sitting-room. A fire burned in the grate, and +Marsham's limbs were covered with a rug. Yet it was only the first +week of September, and the afternoon was warm and sunny. The +neuralgic pain, however, from which he had suffered day and night +since the attack upon him made him susceptible to the slightest +breath of chill.</p> +<p>The footman returned with the newspaper.</p> +<p>"Is her ladyship at home?"</p> +<p>"I think not, sir. I saw her ladyship go out a little while ago +with Miss Drake. Is there anything else I can get for you?"</p> +<p>"Make up the fire, please. Put the cigarettes here, and don't +come till I ring."</p> +<p>Marsham, left alone, lit a cigarette, and fell hungrily upon the +paper, his forehead and lips still drawn with pain. The paper +contained an account of the stone-throwing at Hartingfield, and of +the injury to himself; a full record of the last five or six days +of the election, and of the proceedings at the declaration of the +poll; a report, moreover, of the "chivalrous and sympathetic +references" made by the newly elected Conservative member to the +"dastardly attack" upon his rival, which the "whole of West +Brookshire condemns and deplores."</p> +<p>The leading article "condemned" and "deplored," at considerable +length and in good set terms, through two paragraphs. In the third +it "could not disguise--from itself or its readers"--that Mr. +Marsham's defeat by so large a majority had been a strong +probability from the first, and had been made a certainty by the +appearance on the eve of the poll of "the Barrington letter." "No +doubt, some day, Mr. Marsham will give his old friends and former +constituents in this division the explanations in regard to this +letter--taken in connection with his own repeated statements at +meetings and in the press--which his personal honor and their long +fidelity seem to demand. Meanwhile we can only express to our old +member our best wishes both for his speedy recovery from the +effects of a cowardly and disgraceful attack, and for the +restoration of a political position which only a few months ago +seemed so strong and so full of promise."</p> +<p>Marsham put down the paper. He could see the whipper-snapper of +an editor writing the lines, with a wary eye both to the past and +future of the Marsham influence in the division. The self-made, +shrewd little man had been Oliver's political slave and henchman +through two Parliaments; and he had no doubt reflected that neither +the Tallyn estates, nor the Marsham wealth had been wiped out by +the hostile majority of last Saturday. At the same time, the state +of feeling in the division was too strong; the paper which depended +entirely on local support could not risk its very existence by +countering it.</p> +<p>Marsham's keen brain spared him nothing. His analysis of his own +situation, made at leisure during the week which had elapsed since +the election, had been as pitiless and as acute as that of any +opponent could have been. He knew exactly what he had lost, and +why.</p> +<p>A majority of twelve hundred against him, in a constituency +where, up to the dissolution, he had commanded a majority--for +him--of fifteen hundred. And that at a general election, when his +party was sweeping the country!</p> +<p>He had, of course, resigned his office, and had received a few +civil and sympathetic words from the Premier--words which but for +his physical injury, so the recipient of them suspected, might have +been a good deal less civil and less sympathetic. No effort had +been made to delay the decision. For a Cabinet Minister, defeated +at a bye-election, a seat must be found. For a Junior Lord and a +Second Whip nobody will put themselves out.</p> +<p>He was, therefore, out of Parliament and out of office; +estranged from multitudes of old friends; his name besmirched by +some of the most damaging accusations that can be brought against a +man's heart and honor.</p> +<p>He moved irritably among his cushions, trying to arrange them +more comfortably. This <i>infernal</i> pain! It was to be hoped +Nixon would be able to do more for it than that ass, the Dunscombe +doctor. Marsham thought, with resentment, of all his futile drugs +and expedients. According to the Dunscombe man, the stone had done +no vital injury, but had badly bruised one of the lower +vertebræ, and jarred the nerves of the spine generally. Local +rest, various applications, and nerve--soothing drugs--all these +had been freely used, and with no result. The pain had been +steadily growing worse, and in the last twenty-four hours certain +symptoms had appeared, which, when he first noticed them, had +roused in Marsham a gust of secret terror; and Nixon, a famous +specialist in nerve and spinal disease, had been summoned +forthwith.</p> +<p>To distract his thoughts, Marsham took up the paper again.</p> +<p>What was wrong with the light? He looked at the clock, and read +it with some difficulty. Close on four only, and the September sun +was shining brightly outside. It was his eyes, he supposed, that +were not quite normal Very likely. A nervous shock must, of course, +show itself in a variety of ways. At any rate, he found reading +difficult, and the paper slid away.</p> +<p>The pain, however, would not let him doze. He looked helplessly +round the room, feeling depressed and wretched. Why were his mother +and Alicia out so long? They neglected and forgot him. Yet he could +not but remember that they had both devoted themselves to him in +the morning, had read to him and written for him, and he had not +been a very grateful patient. He recalled, with bitterness, the +look of smiling relief with which Alicia had sprung up at the sound +of the luncheon-bell, dropping the book from which she had been +reading aloud, and the little song he had heard her humming in the +corridor as she passed his door on her way down-stairs.</p> +<p><i>She</i> was in no pain physical or mental, and she had +probably no conception of what he had endured these six days and +nights. But one would have thought that mere instinctive sympathy +with the man to whom she was secretly engaged.</p> +<p>For they were secretly engaged. It was during one of their early +drives, in the canvassing of the first election, that he had lost +his head one June afternoon, as they found themselves alone, +crossing a beech wood on one of the private roads of the Tallyn +estate; the groom having been despatched on a message to a +farm-house. Alicia was in her most daring and provocative mood, +tormenting and flattering him by turns; the reflections from her +rose-colored parasol dappling her pale skin with warm color; her +beautiful ungloved hands and arms, bare to the elbow, teasing the +senses of the man beside her. Suddenly he had thrown his arm round +her, and crushed her to him, kissing the smooth cool face and the +dazzling hair. And she had nestled up to him and laughed--not the +least abashed or astonished; so that even then, through his +excitement, there had struck a renewed and sharp speculation as to +her twenty-four hours' engagement to the Curate, in the spring of +the year; as to the privileges she must have allowed him; and no +doubt to others before him.</p> +<p>At that time, it was tacitly understood between them that no +engagement could be announced. Alicia was well aware that +Brookshire was looking on; that Brookshire was on the side of Diana +Mallory, the forsaken, and was not at all inclined to forgive +either the deserting lover or the supplanting damsel; so that while +she was not loath to sting and mystify Brookshire by whatever small +signs of her power over Oliver Marsham she could devise; though she +queened it beside him on his coach, and took charge with Lady Lucy +of his army of women canvassers; though she faced the mob with him +at Hartingfield, on the occasion of the first disturbance there in +June, and had stood beside him, vindictively triumphant on the day +of his first hard-won victory, she would wear no ring, and she +baffled all inquiries, whether of her relations or her girl +friends. Her friendship with her cousin Oliver was nobody's concern +but her own, she declared, and all they both wanted was to be let +alone.</p> +<p>Meanwhile she had been shaken and a little frightened by the +hostile feeling shown toward her, no less than Oliver, in the first +election. She had taken no part in the second, although she had +been staying at Tallyn all through it, and was present when Oliver +was brought in, half fainting and agonized with pain, after the +Hartingfield riot.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Oliver, now lying with closed eyes on his sofa, lived again +through the sensations and impressions of that first hour: the +pain--the arrival of the doctor--the injection of morphia--the +blessed relief stealing through his being--and then Alicia's face +beside him. Delivered from the obsession of intolerable anguish, he +had been free to notice with a kind of exultation the tears in the +girl's eyes, her pale tremor and silence. Never yet had Alicia wept +for <i>him</i> or anything that concerned him. Never, indeed, had +he seen her weep in his whole life before. He triumphed in her +tears.</p> +<p>Since then, however, their whole relation had insensibly and +radically changed; their positions toward each other were reversed. +Till the day of his injury and his defeat, Marsham had been in +truth the wooed and Alicia the wooer. Now it seemed to him as +though, through his physical pain, he were all the time clinging to +something that shrank away and resisted him--something that would +ultimately elude and escape him.</p> +<p>He knew well that Alicia liked sickness and melancholy no more +than he did; and he was constantly torn between a desire to keep +her near him and a perception that to tie her to his sick-room was, +in fact, the worst of policies.</p> +<p>Persistently, in the silence of the hot room, there rang through +his brain the questions: "Do I really care whether she stays or +goes?--do I love her?--shall I ever marry her?" Questions that were +immediately answered, it seemed, by the rise of a wave of desolate +and desperate feeling. He was maimed and ruined; life had broken +under his feet. What if also he were done forever with love and +marriage?</p> +<p>There were still some traces in his veins of the sedative drug +which had given him a few hours' sleep during the night. Under its +influence a feverish dreaminess overtook him, alive with fancies +and images. Ferrier and Diana were among the phantoms that peopled +the room. He saw Ferrier come in, stoop over the newspaper on the +floor, raise it, and walk toward the fire with it. The figure stood +with its back to him; then suddenly it turned, and Marsham saw the +well-known face, intent, kindly, a little frowning, as though in +thought, but showing no consciousness of his, Oliver's, presence or +plight. He himself wished to speak, but was only aware of useless +effort and some intangible hinderance. Then Ferrier moved on toward +a writing-table with drawers that stood beyond the fireplace. He +stooped, and touched a handle. "No!" cried Oliver, violently--"no!" +He woke with shock and distress, his pulse racing. But the feverish +state began again, and dreams with it--of the House of Commons, the +election, the faces in the Hartingfield crowd. Diana was among the +crowd--looking on--vaguely beautiful and remote. Yet as he +perceived her a rush of cool air struck on his temples, he seemed +to be walking down a garden, there was a scent of limes and +roses.</p> +<p>"Oliver!" said his mother's voice beside him--"dear Oliver!"</p> +<p>He roused himself to find Lady Lucy bending over him. The pale +dismay in her face excited and irritated him.</p> +<p>He turned away from her.</p> +<p>"Is Nixon come?"</p> +<p>"Dearest, he has just arrived. Will you see him at once?"</p> +<p>"Of course!" he said, angrily. "Why doesn't Richard do as he's +told?"</p> +<p>He raised himself into a sitting posture, while Lady Lucy went +to the door. The local doctor entered--a stranger behind him. Lady +Lucy left her son and the great surgeon together.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Nearly an hour later, Mr. Nixon, waylaid by Lady Lucy, was doing +his best to compromise, as doctors must, between consideration for +the mother and truth as to the Son. There was, he hoped, no +irreparable injury. But the case would be long, painful, trying to +everybody concerned. Owing to the mysterious nerve-sympathies of +the body, the sight was already affected and would be more so. +Complete rest, certain mechanical applications, certain drugs--he +ran through his recommendations.</p> +<p>"Avoid morphia, I implore you," he said, earnestly, "if you +possibly can. Here a man's friends can be of great help to him. +Cheer him and distract him in every way you can. I think we shall +be able to keep the pain within bounds."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy looked piteously at the speaker.</p> +<p>"And how long?" she said, trembling.</p> +<p>Mr. Nixon hesitated. "I am afraid I can hardly answer that. The +blow was a most unfortunate one. It might have done a worse injury. +Your son might be now a paralyzed invalid for life. But the case is +very serious, nor is it possible yet to say what all the +consequences of the injury may be. But keep your own courage +up--and his. The better his general state, the more chance he +has."</p> +<p>A few minutes more, and the brougham had carried him away. Lady +Lucy, looking after it from the window of her sitting-room, knew +that for her at last what she had been accustomed to describe every +Sunday as "the sorrows of this transitory life" had begun. Till now +they had been as veiled shapes in a misty distance. She had +accepted them with religious submission, as applying to others. Her +mind, resentful and astonished, must now admit them--pale +messengers of powers unseen and pitiless!--to its own daily +experience; must look unprotected, unscreened, into their stern +faces.</p> +<p>"John!--John!" cried the inner voice of agonized regret. And +then: "My boy!--my boy!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"What did he say?" asked Alicia's voice, beside her.</p> +<p>The sound--the arm thrown round her--were not very welcome to +Lady Lucy. Her nature, imperious and jealously independent, under +all her sweetness of manner, set itself against pity, especially +from her juniors. She composed herself at once.</p> +<p>"He does not give a good account," she said, withdrawing herself +gently but decidedly. "It may take a long time before Oliver is +quite himself again."</p> +<p>Alicia persisted in a few questions, extracting all the +information she could. Then Lady Lucy sat down at her writing-table +and began to arrange some letters. Alicia's presence annoyed her. +The truth was that she was not as fond of Alicia as she had once +been. These misfortunes, huddling one on another, instead of +drawing them together, had in various and subtle ways produced a +secret estrangement. To neither the older nor the younger woman +could the familiar metaphor have been applied which compares the +effects of sorrow or sympathy on fine character to the bruising of +fragrant herbs. Ferrier's death, sorely and bitterly lamented +though it was, had not made Lady Lucy more lovable. Oliver's +misfortune had not--toward Lady Lucy, at any rate--liberated in +Alicia those hidden tendernesses that may sometimes transmute and +glorify natures apparently careless or stubborn, brought eye to eye +with pain. Lady Lucy also resented her too long exclusion from +Alicia's confidence. Like all the rest of the world, she believed +there was an understanding between Oliver and Alicia. Of course, +there were reasons for not making anything of the sort public at +present. But a mother, she thought, ought to have been told.</p> +<p>"Does Mr. Nixon recommend that Oliver should go abroad for the +winter?" asked Alicia, after a pause. She was sitting on the arm of +a chair, her slender feet hanging, and the combination of her blue +linen dress with the fiery gold of her hair reminded Lady Lucy of +the evening in the Eaton Square drawing-room, when she had first +entertained the idea that Alicia and Oliver might marry. Oliver, +standing erect in front of the fire looking down upon Alicia in her +blue tulle--his young vigor and distinction--the carriage of his +handsome head--was she never to see that sight again--never? Her +heart fluttered and sank; the prison of life contracted round +her.</p> +<p>She answered, rather shortly.</p> +<p>"He made no plan of the kind. Travelling, in fact, is absolutely +forbidden for the present."</p> +<p>"Poor Oliver!" said Alicia, gently, her eyes on the ground. "How +<i>horrid</i> it is that I have to go away!"</p> +<p>"You! When?" Lady Lucy turned sharply to look at the +speaker.</p> +<p>"Oh! not till Saturday," said Alicia, hastily; "and of course I +shall come back again--if you want me." She looked up with a +smile.</p> +<p>"Oliver will certainly want you; I don't know whom he +could--possibly--want--so much." Lady Lucy spoke the words with +slow emphasis.</p> +<p>"Dear old boy!--I know," murmured Alicia. "I needn't be long +away."</p> +<p>"Why must you go at all? I am sure the Treshams--Lady +Evelyn--would understand--"</p> +<p>"Oh, I promised so faithfully!" pleaded Alicia, joining her +hands. "And then, you know, I should be able to bring all sorts of +gossip back to Oliver to amuse him."</p> +<p>Lady Lucy pressed her hand to her eyes in a miserable +bewilderment. "I suppose it will be an immense party. You told me, +I think, that Lady Evelyn had asked Lord Philip Darcy. I should be +glad if you would make her understand that neither I, nor Sir James +Chide, nor any other old friend of Mr. Ferrier can ever meet that +man on friendly terms again." She looked up, her wrinkled cheeks +flushed with color, her aspect threatening and cold.</p> +<p>"Of course!" said Alicia, soothingly. "Hateful man! I too loathe +the thought of meeting him. But you know how delicate Evelyn is, +and how she has been depending on me to help her. Now, oughtn't we +to go back to Oliver?" She rose from her chair.</p> +<p>"Mr. Nixon left some directions to which I must attend," said +Lady Lucy, turning to her desk. "Will you go and read to him?"</p> +<p>Alicia moved away, but paused as she neared the door.</p> +<p>"What did Mr. Nixon say about Oliver's eyes? He has been +suffering from them dreadfully to-day."</p> +<p>"Everything is connected. We can only wait."</p> +<p>"Are you--are you thinking of a nurse?"</p> +<p>"No," said Lady Lucy, decidedly. "His man Richard is an +excellent nurse. I shall never leave him--and you say"--she turned +pointedly to look at Alicia--"you say you will come back?"</p> +<p>"Of course!--of course I will come back!" cried Alicia. Then, +stepping up briskly to Lady Lucy, she stooped and kissed her. "And +there is you to look after, too!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy allowed the kiss, but made no reply to the remark. +Alicia departed.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>She went slowly up the wide oak staircase. How stifling the +house was on this delicious afternoon! Suddenly, in the distance, +she heard the sound of guns--a shooting-party, no doubt, in the +Melford woods. Her feet danced under her, and she gave a sigh of +longing for the stubbles and the sunny fields, and the +companionship of handsome men, of health and vigor as flawless and +riotous as her own.</p> +<p>Oliver was lying still, with closed eyes, when she rejoined him. +He made no sign as she opened the door, and she sank down on a +stool beside him and laid her head against his shoulder.</p> +<p>"Dear Oliver, you must cheer up," she said, softly. "You'll be +well soon--quite soon--if you are only patient."</p> +<p>He made no reply.</p> +<p>"Did you like Mr. Nixon?" she asked, in the same caressing +voice, gently rubbing her cheek against his arm.</p> +<p>"One doesn't exactly like one's executioner," he said, hoarsely +and suddenly, but without opening his eyes.</p> +<p>"Oliver!--dearest!" She dropped a protesting kiss on the sleeve +of his coat.</p> +<p>Silence for a little, Alicia felt as if she could hardly breathe +in the hot room. Then Oliver raised himself.</p> +<p>"I am going blind!"--he said, violently. "And nothing can be +done. Did that man tell my mother that?"</p> +<p>"No, no!--Oliver!" She threw her arm round him, hastily +repeating and softening Nixon's opinion.</p> +<p>He sank back on his cushions, gloomily listening--without +assent. Presently he shook his head.</p> +<p>"The stuff that doctors talk when they can do no good, and want +to get comfortably out of the house! Alicia!"</p> +<p>She bent forward startled.</p> +<p>"Alicia!--are you going to stick to me?"</p> +<p>His eyes held her.</p> +<p>"Oliver!--what a cruel question!"</p> +<p>"No, it is not cruel." He spoke with a decision which took no +account of her caresses. "I ought to give you up--I know that +perfectly well. But I tell you frankly I shall have no motive to +get well if you leave me. I think that man told me the truth--I did +my best to make him. There <i>is</i> a chance of my getting +well--the thing is <i>not</i> hopeless. If you'll stand by me, I'll +fight through. Will you?" He looked at her with a threatening and +painful eagerness.</p> +<p>"Of course I will," she said, promptly.</p> +<p>"Then let us tell my mother to-night that we are engaged? Mind, +I am not deceiving you. I would give you up at once if I were +hopelessly ill. I am only asking you to bear a little waiting--and +wretchedness--for my sake."</p> +<p>"I will bear anything. Only, dear Oliver--for your sake--for +mine--wait a little longer! You know what horrible gossip there's +been!" She clung to him, murmuring: "I couldn't bear that anybody +should speak or think harshly of you now. It can make no difference +to you and me, but two or three months hence everybody would take +it so differently. You know we said in June--six months."</p> +<p>Her voice was coaxing and sweet. He partly withdrew himself from +her, however.</p> +<p>"At least, you can tell my mother," he said, insisting. "Of +course, she suspects it all."</p> +<p>"Oh, but, dear Oliver!"--she brought her face nearer to his, and +he saw the tears in her eyes--"one's own mother ought to know first +of all. Mamma would be so hurt--she would never forgive me. Let me +pay this horrid visit--and then go home and tell my people--if you +really, really wish it. Afterward of course, I shall come back to +you--and Cousin Lucy shall know--and at Christmas--everybody."</p> +<p>"What visit? You <i>are</i> going to Eastham?--to the +Tresham's?" It was a cry of incredulous pain.</p> +<p>"How <i>can</i> I get out of it, dear Oliver? Evelyn has been +<i>so</i> ill!--and she's been depending on me--and I owe her so +much. You know how good she was to me in the Season."</p> +<p>He lifted himself again on his cushions, surveying her +ironically--his eyes sunken and weak--his aspect ghastly.</p> +<p>"Well, how long do you mean to stay? Is Lord Philip going to be +there?"</p> +<p>"What do I care whether he is or not!"</p> +<p>"You said you were longing to know him."</p> +<p>"That was before you were ill."</p> +<p>"I don't see any logic in that remark." He lay looking at her. +Then suddenly he put out an arm, pulled her down to him feebly, and +kissed her. But the movement hurt him. He turned away with some +broken words--or, rather, moans--stifled against his pillows.</p> +<p>"Dear, do lie still. Shall I read to you?"</p> +<p>He shook his head.</p> +<p>"Don't stay with me. I shall be better after dinner."</p> +<p>She rose obediently, touched him caressingly with her hand, drew +a light shawl over him, and stole away.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When she reached her own room she stood a moment, frowning and +absorbed; beside the open window. Then some one knocked at her +door. It was her maid, who came in carrying a large light box.</p> +<p>Alicia flew toward her.</p> +<p>"From Cosette! Heavens! Oh, Benson, quick! Put it down. I'll +help you."</p> +<p>The maid obeyed, and ran to the dressing-table for scissors. +Cords and tapes were soon cut in the hurry of unpacking, and from +the crackling tissue-paper there emerged an evening gown of some +fresh snowy stuff, delicately painted and embroidered, which drew +from the maid little shrieks of admiration.</p> +<p>Alicia looked at it more critically.</p> +<p>"The lace is not good enough," she said, twisting her lip, "and +I shall make her give me some more embroidery than that on the +bodice--for the money--I can tell her! However, it is pretty--much +prettier, isn't it, Benson, than that gown of Lady Evelyn's I took +it from? She'll be jealous!" The girl laughed triumphantly. "Well, +now, look here, Benson, we're going on Saturday, and I want to look +through my gowns. Get them out, and I'll see if there's anything I +can send home."</p> +<p>The maid's face fell.</p> +<p>"I packed some of them this morning, miss--in the large American +trunk. I thought they'd keep better there than anywhere. It took a +lot of time."</p> +<p>"Oh, never mind. You can easily pack them again. I really must +go through them."</p> +<p>The maid unwillingly obeyed; and soon the room--bed, sofa, +chairs--was covered with costly gowns, for all hours of the day and +night: walking-dresses, in autumn stuffs and colors, ready for the +moors and stubbles; afternoon frocks of an elaborate simplicity, +expensively girlish; evening dresses in an amazing variety of hue +and fabric; with every possible adjunct in the way of flowers, +gloves, belt, that dressmakers and customer could desire.</p> +<p>Alicia looked at it all with glowing cheeks. She reflected that +she had really spent the last check she had made her father give +her to very great Advantage. There were very few people of her +acquaintance, girls or married women, who knew how to get as much +out of money as she did.</p> +<p>In her mind she ran over the list of guests invited to the +Eastham party, as her new friend Lady Evelyn had confided it to +her. Nothing could be smarter, but the competition among the women +would be terribly keen. "Of course, I can't touch duchesses," she +thought, laughing to herself, "or American millionaires. But I +shall do!"</p> +<p>And her mind ran forward in a dream of luxury and delight. She +saw herself sitting or strolling in vast rooms amid admiring +groups; mirrors reflected her; she heard the rustle of her gowns on +parquet or marble, the merry sound of her own laughter; other girls +threw her the incense of their envy and imitation; and men, fresh +and tanned from shooting, breathing the joy of physical life, +devoted themselves to her pleasure, or encircled her with homage. +Not always chivalrous, or delicate, or properly behaved--these men +of her imagination! What matter? She loved adventures! And moving +like a king among the rest, she saw the thin, travel-beaten, +eccentric form of Lord Philip--the hated, adored, pursued; +Society's idol and bugbear all in one; Lord Philip, who shunned and +disliked women; on whom, nevertheless, the ambitions and desires of +some of the loveliest women in England were, on that account alone, +and at this moment of his political triumph, the more intently and +the more greedily fixed.</p> +<p>A flash of excitement ran through her. In Lady Evelyn's letter +of that morning there was a mention of Lord Philip. "I told him you +were to be here. He made a note of it, and I do at last believe he +won't throw us over, as he generally does."</p> +<p>She dressed, still in a reverie, speechless under her maid's +hands. Then, as she emerged upon the gallery, looking down upon the +ugly hall of Tallyn, she remembered that she had promised to go +back after dinner and read to Oliver. Her nature rebelled in a +moral and physical nausea, and it was all she could do to meet Lady +Lucy at their solitary dinner with her usual good temper.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<br> +<p>Sir James Chide was giving tea to a couple of guests at Lytchett +Manor. It was a Saturday in late September. The beech-trees visible +through the drawing-room windows were still untouched and heavily +green; but their transformation was approaching. Soon, steeped in +incredible splendors of orange and gold, they would stand upon the +leaf-strewn grass, waiting for the night of rain or the touch of +frost which should at last disrobe them.</p> +<p>"If you imagine, Miss Ettie," said Sir James, severely, to a +young lady beside him, "that I place the smallest faith in any of +Bobbie's remarks or protestations--"</p> +<p>The girl addressed smiled into his face, undaunted. She was a +small elfish creature with a thin face, on the slenderest of necks. +But in her queer little countenance a pair of laughing eyes, out of +all proportion to the rest of her for loveliness and effect, gave +her and kept her the attention of the world. They lent +distinction--fascination even--to a character of simple virtues and +girlish innocence.</p> +<p>Bobbie lounged behind her chair, his arms on the back of it. He +took Sir James's attack upon him with calm. "Shall I show him the +letter of my beastly chairman?" he said, in the girl's ear.</p> +<p>She nodded, and Bobbie drew from his breast-pocket a folded +sheet of blue paper, and pompously handed it to Sir James.</p> +<p>The letter was from the chairman of a leading bank in Berlin--a +man well known in European finance. It was couched in very civil +terms, and contained the offer to Mr. Robert Forbes of a post in +the Lindner bank, as an English correspondence clerk, at a salary +in marks which, when translated, meant about £140 a year.</p> +<p>Sir James read it, and handed it back. "Well, what's the meaning +of that?"</p> +<p>"I'm giving up the Foreign Office," said Bobbie, an engaging +openness of manner. "It's not a proper place for a young man. I've +learned nothing there but a game we do with Blue-Books, and things +you throw at the ceiling--where they stick--I'll tell you about it +presently. Besides, you see, I must have some money, and it don't +grow in the Foreign Office for people like me. So I went to my +uncle, Lord Forestier--"</p> +<p>"Of course!" growled Sir James. "I thought we should come to the +uncles before long. Miss Wilson, I desire to warn you against +marrying a young man of 'the classes.' They have no morals, but +they have always uncles."</p> +<p>Miss Wilson's eyes shot laughter at her <i>fiancé</i>. +"Go on, Bobbie, and don't make it too long!"</p> +<p>"I decline to be hustled." Bobbie's tone was firm, though +urbane. "I repeat: I went to my uncle. And I said to him, like the +unemployed: 'Find me work, and none of your d----d charity!'"</p> +<p>"Which means, I suppose, that the last time you went to him, you +borrowed fifty pounds?" said Sir James.</p> +<p>"I shouldn't dream, sir, of betraying my uncle's affairs. On +this occasion--for an uncle--he behaved well. He lectured me for +twenty-seven minutes and a half--I had made up my mind beforehand +not to let it go over the half-hour--and then he came to business. +After a year's training and probation in Berlin he thought he could +get me a post in his brother-in-law's place in the City. Awfully +warm thing, you know," said Bobbie, complacently; "worth a little +trouble. So I told him, kindly, I'd think of it. Ecco!" He pointed +to the letter. "Of course, I told my uncle I should permit him to +continue my allowance, and in a year I shall be a merchant +prince--in the egg; I shall be worth marrying; and I shall allow +Ettie two hundred a year for her clothes."</p> +<p>"And Lady Niton?"</p> +<p>Bobbie sat down abruptly; the girl stared at the carpet.</p> +<p>"I don't see the point of your remark," said Bobbie at last, +with mildness. "When last I had the honor of hearing of her, Lady +Niton was taking the air--or the waters--at Strathpeffer."</p> +<p>"As far as I know," remarked Sir James, "she is staying with the +Feltons, five miles off, at this moment."</p> +<p>Bobbie whistled. "Close quarters!" He looked at Miss Ettie +Wilson, and she at him. "May I ask whether, as soon as Ettie and I +invited ourselves for the day, you asked Lady Niton to come to +tea?"</p> +<p>"Not at all. I never play Providence unless I'm told to do so. +Only Miss Mallory is coming to tea."</p> +<p>Bobbie expressed pleasure at the prospect; then his amiable +countenance--the face of an "Idle Apprentice," whom no god has the +heart to punish--sobered to a real concern as the association of +ideas led him to inquire what the latest news might be of Oliver +Marsham.</p> +<p>Sir James shook his head; his look clouded. He understood from +Lady Lucy that Oliver was no better; the accounts, in fact, were +very bad.</p> +<p>"Did they arrest anybody?" asked Bobbie.</p> +<p>"At Hartingfield? Yes--two lads. But there was not evidence +enough to convict. They were both released, and the village gave +them an ovation."</p> +<p>Bobbie hesitated.</p> +<p>"What do you think was the truth about that article?"</p> +<p>Sir James frowned and rose.</p> +<p>"Miss Wilson, come and see my garden. If you don't fall down and +worship the peaches on my south wall, I shall not pursue your +acquaintance."</p> +<p>It was a Saturday afternoon. Briefs were forgotten. The three +strolled down the garden. Sir James, in a disreputable +shooting-coat and cap, his hands deep in his pockets, took the +middle of the path--the two lovers on either side. Chide made +himself delightful to them. On that Italian journey of which he +constantly thought, Ferrier had been amused and cheered all through +by Bobbie's nonsense; and the young fellow had loyally felt his +death--and shown it. Chide's friendly eye would be on him and his +Ettie henceforward.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Five or ten minutes afterward, a brougham drove up to the door +of Lytchett, and a small lady emerged. She had rung the bell, and +was waiting on the steps, when a pony-carriage also turned into the +Lytchett avenue and drew near rapidly.</p> +<p>A girl in a shady hat was driving it.</p> +<p>"The very creature!" cried Lady Niton, under her breath, smartly +tapping her tiny boot with the black cane she carried, and +referring apparently to some train of meditation in which she had +been just engaged. She waved to her own coachman to be off, and +stood awaiting Diana.</p> +<br> +<a name="image-492.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-492.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-492.jpg" width="44%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Sir James made himself delightful to them"</b></p> +<br> +<p>"How do you do, Miss Mallory? Are you invited? I'm not."</p> +<p>Diana descended, and they shook hands. They had not met since +the evening at Tallyn when Diana, in her fresh beauty, had been the +gleaming princess, and Lady Niton the friendly godmother, of so +promising a fairy tale. The old woman looked at her curiously, as +they stood in the drawing-room together, while the footman went off +to find Sir James. Frail--dark lines under the eyes--a look as of +long endurance--a smile that was a mere shield and concealment for +the heart beneath--alack!</p> +<p>And there was no comfort to be got out of calling down fire from +heaven on the author of this change, since it had fallen so +abundantly already!</p> +<p>"Sit down; you look tired," said the old lady, in her piping, +peremptory voice. "Have you been here all the summer?"</p> +<p>"Yes--since June."</p> +<p>"Through the election?"</p> +<p>"Yes." Diana turned her face away. Lady Niton could see the +extreme delicacy to which the profile had fined down, the bluish or +purple shadows here and there on the white skin. Something +glittered in the old woman's eyes. She put out a hand from the +queer flounced mantle, made out of an ancient evening dress, in +which she was arrayed, and touched Diana's.</p> +<p>"You know--you've heard--about those poor things at Tallyn?"</p> +<p>Diana made a quick movement. Her eyes were on the speaker.</p> +<p>"How is Mr. Marsham?"</p> +<p>Lady Niton shook her head. She opened a hand-bag on her wrist, +took out a letter, and put on her eye-glasses.</p> +<p>"This is Lucy--arrived this morning. It don't sound well. 'Come +when you can, my dear Elizabeth--you will be very welcome. But I do +not know how I have the courage to ask you. We are a depressing +pair, Oliver and I. Oliver has been in almost constant pain this +last week. If it goes on we must try morphia. But before that we +shall see another doctor. I dread to think of morphia. Once begin +it, and what will be the end? I sit here alone a great +deal--thinking. How long did that stone take to throw?--a few +seconds, perhaps? And here is my son--my poor son!--broken and +helpless--perhaps for life. We have been trying a secretary to +write for him and read to him, for the blindness increases, but it +has not been a success.'"</p> +<p>Diana rose abruptly and walked to the window, where she stood, +motionless--looking out--her back turned to Lady Niton. Her +companion glanced at her--lifted her eyebrows--hesitated--and +finally put the letter back into her pocket. There was an awkward +silence, when Diana suddenly returned to Lady Niton's side.</p> +<p>"Where is Miss Drake?" she said, sharply. "Is the marriage put +off?"</p> +<p>"Marriage!" Lady Niton laughed. "Alicia and Oliver? H'm. I don't +think we shall hear much more of that!"</p> +<p>"I thought it was settled."</p> +<p>"Well, as soon as I heard of the accident and Oliver's +condition, I wondered to myself how long that young woman would +keep it up. I have no doubt the situation gave her a disturbed +night or two, Alicia never can have had: the smallest intention of +spending her life, or the best years of it, in nursing a sick +husband. On the other hand, money is money. So she went off to the +Treshams', to see if there was no third course--that's how I read +it."</p> +<p>"The Treshams'?--a visit?--since the accident?"</p> +<p>"Don't look so astonished, my dear. You don't know the Alicias +of this world. But I admit we should be dull without them. There's +a girl at the Feltons' who has just come down from the Treshams', +and I wouldn't have missed her stories of Alicia for a great deal. +She's been setting her cap, it appears, at Lord Philip. However" +(Lady Niton chuckled) "<i>there</i> she's met her match."</p> +<p>"Rut they <i>are</i> engaged?" said Diana, in bewildered +interrogation.</p> +<p>The little lady's laugh rang out--shrill and cracked--like the +crow of a bantam.</p> +<p>"She and Lord Philip? Trust Lord Philip!"</p> +<p>"No, I didn't mean that!"</p> +<p>"She and Oliver? I've no doubt Oliver thinks--or thought--they +were. What view he takes now, poor fellow, I'm sure I don't know. +But I don't somehow think Alicia will be able to carry on the game +indefinitely. Lady Lucy is losing patience."</p> +<p>Diana sat in silence. Lady Niton could not exactly decipher her. +But she guessed at a conflict between a scrupulous or proud +unwillingness to discuss the matter at all or hear it discussed, +and some motive deeper still and more imperative.</p> +<p>"Lady Lucy has been ill too?" Diana inquired at last, in the +same voice of constraint.</p> +<p>"Oh, very unwell indeed. A poor, broken thing! And there don't +seem to be anybody to look after them. Mrs. Fotheringham is about +as much good as a broomstick. Every family ought to keep a supply +of superfluous girls. They're like the army--useless in peace and +indispensable in war. Ha! here's Sir James."</p> +<p>Both ladies perceived Sir James, coming briskly up the garden +path. As she saw him a thought struck Diana--a thought which +concerned Lady Niton. It broke down the tension of her look, and +there was the gleam of a smile--sad still, and touching--in the +glance she threw at her companion. She had been asked to tea to +meet a couple of guests from London with whose affairs she was well +acquainted; and she too thought Sir James had been playing +Providence.</p> +<p>Sir James, evidently conscious, saw the raillery in her face, +pinched her fingers as she gave him her hand, and Diana, passing +him, escaped to the garden, very certain that she should find the +couple in question somewhere among its shades.</p> +<p>Lady Niton examined Sir James--looked after Diana.</p> +<p>"Look here!" she said, abruptly; "what's up? You two understand +something I don't. Out with it!"</p> +<p>Sir James, who could always blush like a girl, blushed.</p> +<p>"I vow that I am as innocent as a babe unborn!"</p> +<p>"What of?" The tone of the demand was like that of a sword in +the drawing.</p> +<p>"I have some guests here to-day."</p> +<p>"Who are they?"</p> +<p>"A young man you know--a young woman you would like to +know."</p> +<p>Silence. Lady Niton sat down again.</p> +<p>"Kindly ring the bell," she said, lifting a peremptory hand, +"and send for my carriage."</p> +<p>"Let me parley an instant," said Sir James, moving between her +and the bell. "Bobbie is just off to Berlin. Won't you say good-bye +to him?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Forbes's movements are entirely indifferent to me--ring!" +Then, shrill-voiced--and with sudden fury, like a bird ruffling up: +"Berlin, indeed! More waste--more shirking! He needn't come to me! +I won't give him another penny."</p> +<p>"I don't advise you to offer it," said Sir James, with suavity. +"Bobbie has got a post in Berlin through his uncle, and is going +off for a twelvemonth to learn banking."</p> +<p>Lady Niton sat blinking and speechless. Sir James drew the +muslin curtain back from the window.</p> +<p>"There they are, you see--Bobbie--and the Explanation. And if +you ask me, I think the Explanation explains."</p> +<p>Lady Niton put up her gold-rimmed glasses.</p> +<p>"She is not in the least pretty!" she said, with hasty venom, +her old hand shaking.</p> +<p>"No, but fetching--and a good girl. She worships her Bobbie, and +she's sending him away for a year."</p> +<p>"I won't allow it!" cried Lady Niton. "He sha'n't go."</p> +<p>Sir James shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"These are domestic brawls--I decline them. Ah!" He turned to +the window, opening it wide. She did not move. He made a sign, and +two of the three persons who had just appeared on the lawn came +running toward the house. Diana loitered behind.</p> +<p>Lady Niton looked at the two young faces as they reached her +side--the mingling of laughter and anxiety in the girl's, of pride +and embarrassment in Bobbie's.</p> +<p>"You sha'n't go to Berlin!" she said to him, vehemently, as she +just allowed him to take her hand.</p> +<p>"Dear Lady Niton!--I must."</p> +<p>"You sha'n't!--I tell you! I've got you a place in London--a, +thousand times, better than your fool of an uncle could ever get +you. Uncle, indeed! Read that letter!" She tossed him one from her +bag.</p> +<p>Bobbie read, while Lady Niton stared hard at the girl. Presently +Bobbie began to gasp.</p> +<p>"Well, upon my word!"--he put the letter down--"upon my word!"' +He turned to his sweetheart. "Ettie!--you marry me in a +month!--mind that! Hang Berlin! I scorn their mean proposals. +London requires me." He drew himself up. "But first" (he looked at +Lady Niton, his flushed face twitching a little) "justice!" he +said, peremptorily--"justice on the chief offender."</p> +<p>And walking across to her, he stooped and kissed her. Then he +beckoned to Ettie to do the same. Very shyly the girl ventured; +very stoically the victim, submitted. Whereupon, Bobbie subsided, +sitting cross-legged on the floor, and a violent quarrel began +immediately between him and Lady Niton on the subject of the part +of London in which he and Ettie were to live. Fiercely the conflict +waxed and waned, while the young girl's soft irrepressible laughter +filled up all the gaps and like a rushing stream carried away the +detritus--the tempers and rancors and scorns--left by former +convulsions.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, Diana and Sir James paced the garden. He saw that she +was silent and absent-minded, and guessed uneasily at the cause. It +was impossible that any woman of her type, who had gone through the +experience that she had, should remain unmoved by the accounts now +current as to Oliver Marsham's state.</p> +<p>As they returned across the lawn to the house the two lovers +came out to meet them. Sir James saw the look with which Diana +watched them coming. It seemed to him one of the sweetest and one +of the most piteous he had ever seen on a human face.</p> +<p>"I shall descend upon you next week," said Lady Niton abruptly, +as Diana made her farewells. "I shall be at Tallyn."</p> +<p>Diana did not reply. The little <i>fiancée</i> insisted +on the right to take her to her pony-carriage, and kissed her +tenderly before she let her go. Diana had already become as a +sister to her and Bobbie, trusted in their secrets and advising in +their affairs.</p> +<p>Lady Niton, standing by Sir James, looked after her.</p> +<p>"Well, there's only one thing in the world that girl wants; and +I suppose nobody in their senses ought to help her to it."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>She murmured a few words in his ear.</p> +<p>"Not a bit of it!" said Sir James, violently. "I forbid it. +Don't you go and put anything of the sort into her head. The young +man I mean her to marry comes back from Nigeria this very day."</p> +<p>"She won't marry him!"</p> +<p>"We shall see."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Diana drove home through lanes suffused with sunset and rich +with autumn. There had been much rain through September, and the +deluged earth steamed under the return of the sun. Mists were +rising from the stubbles, and wrapping the woods in sleep and +purple. To her the beauty of it all was of a mask or pageant--seen +from a distance across a plain or through a street-opening--lovely +and remote. All that was real--all that lived--was the image within +the mind; not the great earth-show without.</p> +<p>As she passed through the village she fell in with the +Roughsedges: the doctor, with his wide-awake on the back of his +head, a book and a bulging umbrella under his arm; Mrs. Roughsedge, +in a new shawl, and new bonnet-strings, with a prodigal flutter of +side curls beside her ample countenance. Hugh, it appeared, was +expected by an evening train. Diana begged that he might be brought +up to see her some time in the course of the following afternoon. +Then she drove on, and Mrs. Roughsedge was left staring +discontentedly at her husband.</p> +<p>"I think she <i>was</i> glad, Henry?"</p> +<p>"Think it, my dear, if it does you any good," said the doctor, +cheerfully.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When Diana reached home night had fallen--a moon-lit night, +through which all the shapes and even the colors of day were still +to be seen or divined in a softened and pearly mystery. Muriel +Colwood was not at home. She had gone to town, on one of her rare +absences, to meet some relations. Diana missed her, and yet was +conscious that even the watch of those kind eyes +would--to-night--have added to the passionate torment of +thought.</p> +<p>As she sat alone in the drawing-room after her short and +solitary meal her nature bent and trembled under the blowing of +those winds of fate, which, like gusts among autumn trees, have +tested or strained or despoiled the frail single life since time +began; winds of love and pity, of desire and memory, of anguish and +of longing.</p> +<p>Only her dog kept her company. Sometimes she rose out of +restlessness, and moved about the room, and the dog's eyes would +follow her, dumbly dependent. The room was dimly lit; in the +mirrors she saw now and then the ghostly passage of some one who +seemed herself and not herself. The windows were open to a misty +garden, waiting for moonrise; in the house all was silence; only +from the distant road and village came voices sometimes of +children, or the sounds of a barrel-organ, fragmentary and +shrill.</p> +<p>Loneliness ached in her heart--spoke to her from the future. And +five miles away Oliver, too, was lonely--and in pain. +<i>Pain</i>!--the thought of it, as of something embodied and +devilish, clutching and tearing at a man already crushed and +helpless--gave her no respite. The tears ran down her cheeks as she +moved to and fro, her hands at her breast.</p> +<p>Yet she was helpless. What could she do? Even if he were free +from Alicia, even if he wished to recall her, how could he--maimed +and broken--take the steps that could alone bring her to his side? +If their engagement had subsisted, horror, catastrophe, the +approach of death itself, could have done nothing to part them. +Now, how was a man in such a plight to ask from a woman what yet +the woman would pay a universe to give? And in the face of the +man's silence, how could the woman speak?</p> +<p>No!--she began to see her life as the Vicar saw it: pledged to +large causes, given to drudgeries--necessary, perhaps noble, for +which the happy are not meant. This quiet shelter of Beechcote +could not be hers much longer. If she was not to go to Oliver, +impossible that she could live on in this rose-scented stillness of +the old house and garden, surrounded by comfort, tranquillity, +beauty, while the agony of the world rang in her ears--wild +voices!--speaking universal, terrible, representative things, yet +in tones piteously dear and familiar, close, close to her heart. +No; like Marion Vincent, she must take her life in her hands, +offering it day by day to this hungry human need, not stopping to +think, accepting the first task to her hand, doing it as she best +could. Only so could she still her own misery; tame, silence her +own grief; grief first and above all for Oliver, grief for her own +youth, grief for her parents. She must turn to the poor in that +mood she had in the first instance refused to allow the growth of +in herself--the mood of one seeking an opiate, an anæsthetic. +The scrubbing of hospital floors; the pacing of dreary streets on +mechanical errands; the humblest obedience and routine; things that +must be done, and in the doing of them deaden thought--these were +what she turned to as the only means by which life could be +lived.</p> +<p>Oliver!--No hope for him?--at thirty-six! His career broken--his +ambition defeated. Nothing before him but the decline of power and +joy; nights of barren endurance, separating days empty and +tortured; all natural pleasures deadened and destroyed; the dying +down of all the hopes and energies that make a man.</p> +<p>She threw herself down beside the open window, burying her face +on her knees. Would they never let her go to him?--never let her +say to him: "Oliver, take me!--you did love me once--what matters +what came between us? That was in another world. Take my +life--crush out of it any drop of comfort or of ease it can give +you! Cruel, cruel--to refuse! It is mine to give and yours to +spend!"</p> +<p>Juliet Sparling's daughter. There was the great consecrating, +liberating fact! What claim had she to the ordinary human joys? +What could the ordinary standards and expectations of life demand +from her? Nothing!--nothing that could stem this rush of the heart +to the beloved--the forsaken and suffering and overshadowed +beloved. Her future?--she held it dross--apart from Oliver. Dear +Sir James!--but he must learn to bear it--to admit that she stood +alone, and must judge for herself. What possible bliss or reward +could there ever be for her but just this: to be allowed to watch +and suffer with Oliver--to bring him the invention, the patience, +the healing divination of love? And if it were not to be hers, then +what remained was to go down into the arena, where all that is +ugliest and most piteous in life bleeds and gasps, and throw +herself blindly into the fight. Perhaps some heavenly voice might +still speak through it; perhaps, beyond its jar, some ineffable +reunion might dawn--</p> +<blockquote>"First a peace out of pain--then a light--then thy +breast!..."</blockquote> +<p>She trembled through and through. Restraining herself, she rose, +and went to her locked desk, taking from it the closely written +journal of her father's life, which had now been for months the +companion of her thoughts, and of the many lonely moments in her +days and nights. She opened on a passage tragically familiar to +her:</p> +<blockquote>"It is an April day. Everything is very still and +balmy. clouds are low, yet suffused with sun. They seem to be +tangled among the olives, and all the spring green and flowering +fruit trees are like embroidery on a dim yet shining background of +haze, silvery and glistening in the sun, blue and purple in the +shadows. The beach-trees in the olive garden throw up their pink +spray among the shimmering gray leaf and beside the gray stone +walls. Warm breaths steal to me over the grass and through the +trees; the last brought with it a strong scent of narcissus. A goat +tethered to a young tree in the orchard has reared its front feet +against the stem, and is nibbling at the branches. His white back +shines amid the light spring shade.<br> +<br> +"Far down through the trees I can see the sparkle of the +waves--beyond, the broad plain of blue; and on the headland, a mile +away, white foam is dashing.<br> +<br> +"It is the typical landscape of the South, and of spring, the +landscape, with only differences in detail, of Theocritus or +Vergil, or the Greek anthologists, those most delicate singers of +nature and the South. From the beginning it has filled man with the +same joy, the same yearning, the same despair.<br> +<br> +"In youth and happiness we <i>are</i> the spring--the young +green--the blossom--the plashing waves. Their life is ours and one +with ours.<br> +<br> +"But in age and grief? There is no resentment, I think; no anger, +as though a mourner resented the gayety around him; but, rather, a +deep and melancholy wonder at the chasm that has now revealed +itself between our life and nature. What does the breach mean?--the +incurable dissonance and alienation? Are we greater than nature, or +less? Is the opposition final, the prophecy of man's ultimate and +hopeless defeat at the hands of nature?--or is it, in the Hegelian +sense, the mere development of a necessary conflict, leading to a +profounder and intenser unity? The old, old questions--stock +possessions of the race, yet burned anew by life into the blood and +brain of the individual.<br> +<br> +"I see Diana in the garden with her nurse. She has been running to +and fro, playing with the dog, feeding the goat. Now I see her +sitting still, her chin on her hands, looking out to sea. She seems +to droop; but I am sure she is not tired. It is an attitude not +very natural to a child, especially to a child so full of physical +health and vigor; yet she often falls into it.<br> +<br> +"When I see it I am filled with dread. She knows nothing, yet the +cloud seems to be upon her. Does she already ask herself +questions--about her father--about this solitary life?<br> +<br> +"Juliet was not herself--not in her full sane mind--when I promised +her. That I know. But I could no more have refused the promise than +water to her dying lips. One awful evening of fever and +hallucination I had been sitting by her for a long time. Her +thoughts, poor sufferer, had been full of <i>blood</i>--it is hard +to write it--but there is the truth--a physical horror of +blood--the blood in which her dress--the dress they took from her, +her first night in prison--was once steeped. She saw it everywhere, +on her hands, the sheets, the walls; it was a nausea, an agony of +brain and flesh; and yet it was, of course, but a mere symbol and +shadow of the manifold agony she had gone through. I will not +attempt to describe what I felt--what the man who knows that his +neglect and selfishness drove her the first steps along this +infernal road must feel to his last hour.--But at last we were +able--the nurse and I--to soothe her a little. The nightmare +lifted, we gave her food, and the nurse brushed her poor brown +hair, and tied round it, loosely, the little black scarf she likes +to wear. We lifted her on her pillows, and her white face grew +calm, and so lovely--though, as we thought, very near to death. Her +hair, which was cut in prison, had grown again a little--to her +neck, and could not help curling. It made her look a child +again--poor, piteous child!--so did the little scarf, tied under +her chin--and the tiny proportions to which all her frame had +shrunk.<br> +<br> +"She lifted her face to mine, as I bent over her, kissed me, and +asked for you. You were brought, and I took you on my knee, showing +you pictures, to keep you quiet. But every other minute, almost, +your eyes looked away from the book to her, with that grave +considering look, as though a question were behind the look, to +which your little brain could not yet give shape. My strange +impression was that the question was there--in the mind--fully +formed, like the Platonic 'ideas' in heaven; but that, physically, +there was no power to make the word-copy that could have alone +communicated it to us. Your mother looked at you in return, +intently--quite still. When you began to get restless, I lifted you +up to kiss her; you were startled, perhaps, by the cold of her +face, and struggled away. A little color came into her cheeks; she +followed you hungrily with her eyes as you were carried off; then +she signed to me, and it was my hand that brushed away her +tears.<br> +<br> +"Immediately afterward she began to speak, with wonderful will and +self-control, and she asked me that till you were grown up and +knowledge became inevitable, I should tell you nothing. There was +to be no talk of her, no picture of her, no letters. As far as +possible, during your childhood and youth, she was to be to you as +though she had never existed. What her thought was exactly she was +too feeble to explain; nor was her mind strong enough to envisage +all the consequences--to me, as well as to you--of what she +proposed. No doubt it tortured her to think of you as growing up +under the cloud of her name and fate, and with her natural and +tragic impetuosity she asked what she did.<br> +<br> +"'One day--there will come some one--who will love her--in spite of +me. Then you and he--shall tell her.'<br> +<br> +"I pointed out to her that such a course would mean that I must +change my name and live abroad. Her eyes assented, with a look of +relief. She knew that I had already developed the tastes of the +nomad and the sun-worshipper, that I was a student, happy in books +and solitude; and I have no doubt that the picture her mind formed +at the moment of some such hidden life together, as we have +actually led, you and I, since her death, soothed and consoled her. +With her intense and poetic imagination, she knew well what had +happened to us, as well as to herself.<br> +<br> +"So here we are in this hermitage; and except in a few passing +perfunctory words, I have never spoken to you of her. Whether what +I have done is wise I cannot tell. I could not help it; and if I +had broken my word, remorse would have killed me. I shall not die, +however, without telling you--if only I have warning enough.<br> +<br> +"But supposing there is no warning--then all that I write now, and +much else, will be in your hands some day. There are moments when I +feel a rush of comfort at the notion that I may never have to watch +your face as you hear the story; there are others when the longing +to hold you--child as you still are--against my heart, and feel +your tears--your tears for her--mingling with mine, almost sweeps +me off my feet.<br> +<br> +"And when you grow older my task in all its aspects will be harder +still. You have inherited her beauty on a larger, ampler scale, and +the time will come for lovers. You will hear of your mother then +for the first time; my mind trembles even now at the thought of it. +For the story may work out ill, or well, in a hundred different +ways; and what we did in love may one day be seen as an error and +folly, avenging itself not on us, but on our child.<br> +<br> +"Nevertheless, my Diana, if it had to be done again, it must still +be done. Your mother, before she died, was tortured by no common +pains of body and spirit. Yet she never thought of herself--she was +tormented for us. If her vision was clouded, her prayer unwise--in +that hour, no argument, no resistance was possible.<br> +<br> +"The man who loves you will love you well, my child. You are not +made to be lightly or faithlessly loved. He will carry you through +the passage perilous if I am no longer there to help. To him--in +the distant years--I commit you. On him be my blessing, and the +blessing, too, of that poor ghost whose hands I seem to hold in +mine as I write. Let him not be too proud to take it!"</blockquote> +<p>Diana put down the book with a low sob that sounded through the +quiet room. Then she opened the garden door and stepped on to the +terrace. The night was cold but not frosty; there was a waning moon +above the autumnal fulness of the garden and the woods.</p> +<p>A "spirit in her feet" impelled her. She went back to the house, +found a cloak and hat, put out the lamps, and sent the servants to +bed. Then noiselessly she once more undid the drawing-room door, +and stole out into the garden and across the lawn. Soon she was in +the lime-walk, the first yellow leaves crackling beneath her feet; +then in the kitchen garden, where the apples shone dimly on the +laden boughs, where sunflowers and dahlias and marigolds, tall +white daisies and late roses--the ghosts of their daylight +selves--dreamed and drooped under the moon; where the bees slept +and only great moths were abroad. And so on to the climbing path +and the hollows of the down. She walked quickly along the edge of +it, through hanging woods of beech that clothed the hill-side. +Sometimes the trees met in majestic darkness above her head, and +the path was a glimmering mystery before her. Sometimes the ground +broke away on her left--abruptly--in great chasms, torn from the +hill-side, stripped of trees, and open to the stars. Down rushed +the steep slopes to the plain, clad in the decaying leaf and mast +of former years, and at the edges of these precipitous glades, or +scattered at long intervals across them, great single trees +emerged, the types and masters of the forest, their trunks, +incomparably tall, and all their noble limbs, now thinly veiled by +a departing leafage, drawn sharp, in black and silver, on the pale +background of the chalk plain. Nothing so grandiose as these +climbing beech woods of middle England!--by day, as it were, some +vast procession marching joyously over hill and dale to the music +of the birds and the wind; and at night, a brooding host, silent +yet animate, waiting the signal of the dawn.</p> +<p>Diana passed through them, drinking in the exaltation of their +silence and their strength, yet driven on by the mere weakness and +foolishness of love. By following the curve of the down she could +reach a point on the hill-side whence, on a rising ground to the +north, Tallyn was visible. She hastened thither through the night. +Once she was startled by a shot fired from a plantation near the +path, trees began to rustle and dogs to bark, and she fled on, in +terror lest the Tallyn keepers might discover her. Alack!--for +whose pleasure were they watching now?</p> +<p>The trees fell back. She reached the bare shoulder of the down. +Northward and eastward spread the plain; and on the low hill in +front her eyes discerned the pale patch of Tallyn, flanked by the +darkness of the woods. And in that dim front, a light--surely a +light?--in an upper window. She sank down in a hollow of the chalk, +her eyes upon the house, murmuring and weeping.</p> +<p>So she watched with Oliver, as once--at the moment of her +sharpest pain--he had watched with her. But whereas in that earlier +night everything was in the man's hands to will or to do, the woman +felt herself now helpless and impotent. His wealth, his mother +hedged him from her. And if not, he had forgotten her altogether +for Alicia; he cared for her no more; it would merely add to his +burden to be reminded of her. As to Alicia--the girl who could +cruelly leave him there, in that house of torture, to go and dance +and amuse herself--leave him in his pain, his mother in her +sorrow--Diana's whole being was shaken first with an anguish of +resentful scorn, in which everything personal to herself +disappeared. Then--by an immediate revulsion--the thought of Alicia +was a thought of deliverance. Gone?--gone from between them?--the +flaunting, triumphant, heartless face?</p> +<p>Suddenly it seemed to Diana that she was there beside him, in +the darkened room--that he heard her, and looked up.</p> +<p>"Diana!"</p> +<p>"Oliver!" She knelt beside him--she raised his head on her +breast--she whispered to him; and at last he slept. Then hostile +forms crowded about her, forbidding her, driving her away--even Sir +James Chide--in the name of her own youth. And she heard her own +answer: "Dear friend!--think!--remember! Let me stay!--let me stay! +Am I not the child of sorrow? Here is my natural place--my only +joy."</p> +<p>And she broke down into bitter helpless tears, pleading, it +seemed, with things and persons inexorable.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Meanwhile, in Beechcote village, that night, a man slept +lightly, thinking of Diana. Hugh Roughsedge, bronzed and full of +honors, a man developed and matured, with the future in his hands, +had returned that afternoon to his old home.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<br> +<p>"How is she?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood shook her head sadly.</p> +<p>"Not well--and not happy."</p> +<p>The questioner was Hugh Roughsedge. The young soldier had walked +up to Beechcote immediately after luncheon, finding it impossible +to restrain his impatience longer. Diana had not expected him so +soon, and had slipped out for her daily half-hour with Betty Dyson, +who had had a slight stroke, and was failing fast. So that Mrs. +Colwood was at Roughsedge's discretion. But he was not taking all +the advantage of it that he might have done. The questions with +which his mind was evidently teeming came out but slowly.</p> +<p>Little Mrs. Colwood surveyed him from time to time with sympathy +and pleasure. Her round child-like eyes under their long lashes +told her everything that as a woman she wanted to know. What an +improvement in looks and manner--what indefinable gains in +significance and self-possession! Danger, command, responsibility, +those great tutors of men, had come in upon the solid yet malleable +stuff of which the character was made, moulding and polishing, +striking away defects, disengaging and accenting qualities. Who +could ever have foreseen that Hugh might some day be described as +"a man of the world"? Yet if that vague phrase were to be taken in +its best sense, as describing a personality both tempered and +refined by the play of the world's forces upon it, it might +certainly be now used of the man before her.</p> +<p>He was handsomer than ever; bronzed by Nigerian sun, all the +superfluous flesh marched off him; every muscle in his frame taut +and vigorous. And at the same time a new +self-confidence--apparently quite unconscious, and the inevitable +result of a strong and testing experience--was enabling him to +bring his powers to bear and into play, as he had never yet +done.</p> +<p>She recalled, with some confusion, that she--and Diana?--had +tacitly thought of him as good, but stupid. On the contrary, was +she, perhaps, in the presence of some one destined to do great +things for his country? to lay hold--without intending it, as it +were, and by the left hand--oh high distinction? Were women, on the +whole, bad judges of young men? She recalled a saying of Dr. +Roughsedge, that "mothers never know how clever their sons are." +Perhaps the blindness extends to other eyes than mothers?</p> +<p>Meanwhile, she got from him all the news she could. He had been, +it seemed, concerned in the vast operation of bringing a new +African Empire into being. She listened, dazzled, while in the very +simplest, baldest phrases he described the curbing of +slave-raiders, the winning of populations, the grappling with the +desert, the opening out of river highways, whereof in his seven +months he had been the fascinated beholder. As to his own exploits, +he was ingeniously silent; but she knew them already. A military +expedition against two revolted and slave-raiding emirs, holding +strong positions on the great river; a few officers borrowed from +home to stiffen a local militia; hot fighting against great odds; +half a million of men released from a reign of hell; tyranny +broken, and the British <i>pax</i> extended over regions a third as +large as India--smiling prosperity within its pale, bestial +devastation and cruelty without--these things she knew, or had been +able to imagine from the newspapers. According to him, it had been +all the doing of other men. She knew better; but soon found it of +no use to interrupt him.</p> +<p>Meanwhile she dared not ask him why he had come home. The +campaign, indeed, was over; but he had been offered, it appeared, +an administrative appointment.</p> +<p>"And you mean to go back?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps." He colored and looked restlessly out of the +window.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood understood the look, and felt it was, indeed, hard +upon him that he must put up with her so long. In reality, he too +was conscious of new pleasure in an old acquaintance. He had +forgotten what a dear little thing she was: how prettily +round-faced, yet delicate--ethereal--in all her proportions, with +the kindest eyes. She too had grown--by the mere contact with +Diana's fate. Within her tiny frame the soul of her had risen to +maternal heights, embracing and sustaining Diana.</p> +<p>He would have given the world to question her. But after her +first answer to his first inquiry he had fallen tongue-tied on the +subject of Diana, and Nigeria had absorbed conversation. She, on +her side, wished him to know many things, but did not see how to +begin upon them.</p> +<p>At last she attempted it.</p> +<p>"You have heard of our election? And what happened?"</p> +<p>He nodded. His mother had kept him informed. He understood +Marsham had been badly hurt. Was it really so desperate?</p> +<p>In a cautious voice, watching the window, Muriel told what she +knew. The recital was pitiful; but Hugh Roughsedge sat impassive, +making no comments. She felt that in this quarter the young man was +adamant.</p> +<p>"I suppose"--he turned his face from her--"Miss Mallory does not +now go to Tallyn."</p> +<p>"No." She hesitated, looking at her companion, a score of +feelings mingling in her mind. Then she broke out: "But she would +like to!"</p> +<p>His startled look met hers; she was dismayed at what she had +done. Yet, how not to give him warning?--this loyal young fellow, +feeding himself on futile hopes!</p> +<p>"You mean--she still thinks--of Marsham?"</p> +<p>"Of nothing else," she said, impetuously--"of nothing else!"</p> +<p>He frowned and winced.</p> +<p>She resumed: "It is like her--so like her!--isn't it?"</p> +<p>Her soft pitiful eyes, into which the tears had sprung, pressed +the question on him.</p> +<p>"I thought there was a cousin--Miss Drake?" he said, +roughly.</p> +<p>Mrs. Colwood hesitated.</p> +<p>"It is said that all that is broken off."</p> +<p>He was silent. But his watch was on the garden. And suddenly, on +the long grass path, Diana appeared, side by side with the Vicar. +Roughsedge sprang up. Muriel was arrested by Diana's face, and by +something rigid in the carriage of the head. What had the Vicar +been saying to her?--she asked herself, angrily. Never was there +anything less discreet than the Vicar's handling of human +nature!--female human nature, in particular.</p> +<p>Hugh Roughsedge opened the glass door, and went to meet them. +Diana, at sight of him, gave a bewildered look, as though she +scarcely knew him--then a perfunctory hand.</p> +<p>"Captain Roughsedge! They didn't tell me--"</p> +<p>"I want to speak to you," said the Vicar, peremptorily, to Mrs. +Colwood; and he carried her off round the corner of the house.</p> +<p>Diana gazed after them, and Roughsedge thought he saw her +totter.</p> +<p>"You look so ill!" he said, stooping over her. "Come and sit +down."</p> +<p>His boyish nervousness and timidity left him. The strong man +emerged and took command. He guided her to a garden seat, under a +drooping lime. She sank upon the seat, quite unable to stand, +beckoning him to stay by her. So he stood near, reluctantly +waiting, his heart contracting at the sight of her.</p> +<p>At last she recovered herself and sat up.</p> +<p>"It was some bad news," she said, looking at him piteously, and +holding out her hand again. "It is too bad of me to greet you like +this."</p> +<p>He took her hand, and his own self-control broke down. He raised +it to his lips with a stifled cry.</p> +<p>"Don't!--don't!" said Diana, helplessly. "Indeed--there is +nothing the matter--I am only foolish. It is so--so good of you to +care." She drew her hand from his, raised it to her brow, and, +drawing a long breath, pushed back the hair from her face. She was +like a person struggling against some torturing restraint, not +knowing where to turn for help.</p> +<br> +<a name="image-514.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image-514.jpg"><img src= +"images/image-514.jpg" width="44%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Roughsedge stood near, reluctantly waiting"</b></p> +<br> +<p>But at the word "care" he pulled himself together. He sat down +beside her, and plunged straight into his declaration. He went at +it with the same resolute simplicity that he was accustomed to +throw into his military duty, nor could she stop him in the least. +His unalterable affection; his changed and improved prospects; a +staff appointment at home if she accepted him; the Nigerian post if +she refused him--these things he put before her in the natural +manly speech of a young Englishman sorely in love, yet quite +incapable of "high flights," It was very evident that he had +pondered what he was to say through the days and nights of his +exile; that he was doing precisely what he had always planned to +do, and with his whole heart in the business. She tried once or +twice to interrupt him, but he did not mean to be interrupted, and +she was forced to hear it out.</p> +<p>At the end she gave a little gasp.</p> +<p>"Oh, Hugh!" His name, given him for the first time, fell so +forlornly--it was such a breathing out of trouble and pity and +despair--that his heart took another and a final plunge downward. +He had known all through that there was no hope for him; this tone, +this aspect settled it. But she stretched out her hands to him, +tenderly--appealing. "Hugh--I shall have to tell you--but I am +ashamed."</p> +<p>He looked at her in silence a moment, then asked her why. The +tears rose brimming in her eyes--her hands still in his.</p> +<p>"Hugh--I--I--have always loved Oliver Marsham--and I--cannot +think of any one else. You know what has happened?"</p> +<p>He saw the sob swelling in her white throat.</p> +<p>"Yes!" he said, passionately. "It is horrible. But you cannot go +to him--you cannot marry him. He was a coward when he should have +stood by you. He cannot claim you now."</p> +<p>She withdrew her hands.</p> +<p>"No!" The passion in her voice matched his own. "But I would +give the world if he could--and would!"</p> +<p>There was a pause. Steadily the woman gained upon her own +weakness and beat it down. She resumed:</p> +<p>"I must tell you--because--it is the only way--for us two--to be +real friends again--and I want a friend so much. The news of Oliver +is--is terrible. The Vicar had just seen Mr. Lankester--who is +staying there. He is nearly blind--and the pain!" Her hand +clinched--she threw her head back. "Oh! I can't speak of it! And it +may go on for years. The doctors seem to be all at sea. They say he +<i>ought</i> to recover--but they doubt whether he will. He has +lost all heart--and hope--he can't help himself. He lies there like +a log all day--despairing. And, please--what am <i>I</i> doing +here?" She turned upon him impetuously, her cheeks flaming. "They +want help--there is no one. Mrs. Fotheringham hardly ever comes. +They think Lady Lucy is in a critical state of health too. She +won't admit it--she does everything as usual. But she is very frail +and ill, and it depresses Oliver. And I am here!--useless--and +helpless. Oh, why can't I go?--why can't I go?" She laid her face +upon her arms, on the bench, hiding it from him; but he saw the +convulsion of her whole frame.</p> +<p>Beside a passion so absolute and so piteous he felt, his own +claim shrink into nothingness--impossible, even, to give it voice +again. He straightened himself in silence; with an effort of the +whole man, the lover put on the friend.</p> +<p>"But you can go," he said, a little hoarsely, "if you feel like +that."</p> +<p>She raised herself suddenly.</p> +<p>"How do I know that he wants me?--how do I know that he would +even see me?"</p> +<p>Once more her cheeks were crimson. She had shown him her love +unveiled; now he was to see her doubt--the shame that tormented +her. He felt that it was to heal him she had spoken, and he could +do nothing to repay her. He could neither chide her for a quixotic +self-sacrifice, which might never be admitted or allowed; nor +protest, on Marsham's behalf, against it, for he knew, in truth, +nothing of the man; least of all could he plead for himself. He +could only sit, staring like a fool, tongue-tied; till Diana, +mastering, for his sake, the emotion to which, partly also for his +sake, she had given rein, gradually led the conversation back to +safer and cooler ground. All the little involuntary arts came in by +which a woman regains command of herself, and thereby of her +companion. Her hat tired her head; she removed it, and the +beautiful hair underneath, falling into confusion, must be put in +its place by skilled instinctive fingers, every movement answering +to a similar self-restraining effort in the mind within. She dried +her tears; she drew closer the black scarf round the shoulders of +her white dress; she straightened the violets at her belt--Muriel's +mid-day gift--till he beheld her, white and suffering indeed, but +lovely and composed--queen of herself.</p> +<p>She made him talk of his adventures, and he obeyed her, partly +to help her in the struggle he perceived, partly because in the +position--beneath and beyond all hope--to which she had reduced +him, it was the only way by which he could save anything out of the +wreck. And she bravely responded. She could and did lend him enough +of her mind to make it worth his while. A friend should not come +home to her from perils of land and sea, and find her ungrateful--a +niggard of sympathy and praise.</p> +<p>So that when Dr. and Mrs. Roughsedge appeared, and Muriel +returned with them, Mrs. Roughsedge, all on edge with anxiety, +could make very little of what had--what must have--occurred. +Diana, carved in white wax, but for the sensitive involuntary +movements of lip and eyebrow, was listening to a description of an +English embassy sent through the length and breadth of the most +recently conquered province of Nigeria. The embassy took the news +of peace and Imperial rule to a country devastated the year before +by the most hideous of slave-raids. The road it marched by was +strewn with the skeletons of slaves--had been so strewn probably +for thousands of years. "One night my horse trod unawares on two +skeletons--women--locked in each other's arms," said Hugh; "scores +of others round them. In the evening we camped at a village where +every able-bodied male had been killed the year before."</p> +<p>"Shot?" asked the doctor.</p> +<p>"Oh, dear, no! That would have been to waste ammunition. A limb +was hacked off, and they bled to death."</p> +<p>His mother was looking at the speaker with all her eyes, but she +did not hear a word he said. Was he pale or not?</p> +<p>Diana shuddered.</p> +<p>"And that is <i>stopped</i>--forever?" Her eyes were on the +speaker.</p> +<p>"As long as our flag flies there," said the soldier, simply.</p> +<p>Her look kindled. For a moment she was the shadow, the beautiful +shadow, of her old Imperialist self--the proud, disinterested lover +of her country.</p> +<p>The doctor shook his head.</p> +<p>"Don't forget the gin, and the gin-traders on the other side, +Master Hugh."</p> +<p>"They don't show their noses in the new provinces," said the +young man, quietly; "we shall straighten that out too, in the long +run--you'll see."</p> +<p>But Diana had ceased to listen. Mrs. Roughsedge, turning toward +her, and with increasing foreboding, saw, as it were, the cloud of +an inward agony, suddenly recalled, creep upon the fleeting +brightness of her look, as the evening shade mounts upon and +captures a sunlit hill-side. The mother, in spite of her native +optimism, had never cherished any real hope of her son's success. +But neither had she expected, on the other side, a certainty so +immediate and so unqualified. She saw before her no settled or +resigned grief. The Tallyn tragedy had transformed what had been +almost a recovered serenity, a restored and patient equilibrium, +into something violent, tumultuous, unstable--prophesying action. +But what--poor child!--could the action be?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Poor Hugh!" said Mrs. Roughsedge to her husband on their +return, as she stood beside him, in his study. Her voice was low, +for Hugh had only just gone up-stairs, and the little house was +thinly built.</p> +<p>The doctor rubbed his nose thoughtfully, and then looked round +him for a cigarette.</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, slowly; "but he enjoyed his walk home."</p> +<p>"Henry!"</p> +<p>Hugh had walked back to the village with Mrs. Colwood, who had +an errand there, and it was true that he had talked much to her out +of earshot of his parents, and had taken a warm farewell of her at +the end.</p> +<p>"Why am I to be 'Henry'-ed?"--inquired the doctor, beginning on +his cigarette.</p> +<p>"Because you must know," said his wife, in an energetic whisper, +"that Hugh had almost certainly proposed to Miss Mallory before we +arrived, and she had refused him!"</p> +<p>The doctor meditated.</p> +<p>"I still say that Hugh enjoyed his walk," he repeated; "I trust +he will have others of the same kind--with the same person."</p> +<p>"Henry, you are really incorrigible!" cried his wife. "How can +you make jokes--on such a thing--with that girl's face before +you!"</p> +<p>"Not at all," said the doctor, protesting. "I am not making +jokes, Patricia. But what you women never will understand is, that +it was not a woman but a man that wrote--</p> +<blockquote>"'If she be not fair for me--<br> +What care I--'"</blockquote> +<p>"Henry!" and his wife, beside herself, tried to stop his mouth +with her hand.</p> +<p>"All right, I won't finish," said the doctor, placidly, +disengaging himself. "But let me assure you, Patricia, whether you +like it or not, that that is a male sentiment. I quite agree that +no nice woman could have written it. But, then, Hugh is not a nice +woman--nor am I."</p> +<p>"I thought you were so fond of her!" said his wife, +reproachfully.</p> +<p>"Miss Mallory? I adore her. But, to tell the truth, Patricia, I +want a daughter-in-law--and--and grand-children," added the doctor, +deliberately, stretching out his long limbs to the fire. "I admit +that my remarks may be quite irrelevant and ridiculous--but I +repeat that--in spite of everything--Hugh enjoyed his walk."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>One October evening, a week later, Lady Lucy sat waiting for Sir +James Chide at Tallyn Hall. Sir James had invited himself to dine +and sleep, and Lady Lucy was expecting him in the up-stairs +sitting-room, a medley of French clocks and china figures, where +she generally sat now, in order to be within quick and easy reach +of Oliver.</p> +<p>She was reading, or pretending to read, by the fire, listening +all the time for the sound of the carriage outside. Meanwhile, the +silence of the immense house oppressed her. It was broken only by +the chiming of a carillon clock in the hall below. The little tune +it played, fatuously gay, teased her more insistently each time she +heard it. It must really be removed. She wondered Oliver had not +already complained of it.</p> +<p>A number of household and estate worries oppressed her thoughts. +How was she to cope with them? Capable as she was, "John" had +always been there to advise her, in emergency--or Oliver. She +suspected the house-steward of dishonesty. And the agent of the +estate had brought her that morning complaints of the head +gamekeeper that were most disquieting. What did they want with +gamekeepers now? Who would ever shoot at Tallyn again? With +impatience she felt herself entangled in the endless machinery of +wealth and the pleasures of wealth, so easy to set in motion, and +so difficult to stop, even when all the savor has gone out of it. +She was a tired, broken woman, with an invalid son; and the +management of her great property, in which her capacities and +abilities had taken for so long an imperious and instinctive +delight, had become a mere burden. She longed to creep into some +quiet place, alone with Oliver, out of reach of this army of +servants and dependents, these impassive and unresponsive +faces.</p> +<p>The crunching of the carriage wheels on the gravel outside gave +her a start of something like pleasure. Among the old friends there +was no one now she cared so much to see as Sir James Chide. Sir +James had lately left Parliament and politics, and had taken a +judgeship. She understood that he had lost interest in politics +after and in consequence of John Ferrier's death; and she knew, of +course, that he had refused the Attorney-Generalship, on the ground +of the treatment meted out to his old friend and chief. During the +month of Oliver's second election, moreover, she had been very +conscious of Sir James's hostility to her son. Intercourse between +him and Tallyn had practically ceased.</p> +<p>Since the accident, however, he had been kind--very kind.</p> +<p>The door opened, and Sir James was announced. She greeted him +with a tremulous and fluttering warmth that for a moment +embarrassed her visitor, accustomed to the old excess of manner and +dignity, wherewith she kept her little world in awe. He saw, too, +that the havoc wrought by age and grief had gone forward rapidly +since he had seen her last.</p> +<p>"I am afraid there is no better news of Oliver?" he said, +gravely, as he sat down beside her.</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>"We are in despair, Nothing touches the pain but morphia. And he +has lost heart himself so much during the last fortnight."</p> +<p>"You have had any fresh opinion?"</p> +<p>"Yes. The last man told me he still believed the injury was +curable, but that Oliver must do a great deal for himself. And that +he seems incapable of doing. It is, of course, the shock to the +nerves, and--the general--disappointment--"</p> +<p>Her voice shook. She stared into the fire.</p> +<p>"You mean--about politics?" said Sir James, after a pause.</p> +<p>"Yes. Whenever I speak cheerfully to him, he asks me what there +is to live for. He has been driven out of politics--by a +conspiracy--"</p> +<p>Sir James moved impatiently.</p> +<p>"With health he would soon recover everything," he said, rather +shortly.</p> +<p>She made no reply, and her shrunken faded look--as of one with +no energy for hope--again roused his pity.</p> +<p>"Tell me," he said, bending toward her--"I don't ask from idle +curiosity--but--has there been any truth in the rumor of Oliver's +engagement to Miss Drake?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy raised her head sharply. The light came back to her +eyes.</p> +<p>"She was engaged to him, and three weeks after his accident she +threw him over."</p> +<p>Sir James made a sound of amazement. Lady Lucy went on:</p> +<p>"She left him and me, barely a fortnight afterward, to go to a +big country-house party in the north. That will show you--what +she's made of. Then she wrote--a hypocritical letter--putting it on +<i>him</i>. <i>He</i> must not be agitated, nor feel her any burden +upon him; so, for <i>his</i> sake, she broke it off. Of course, +they were to be cousins and friends again just as before. She had +arranged it all to her own satisfaction--and was meanwhile flirting +desperately, as we heard from various people in the north, with +Lord Philip Darcy. Oliver showed me her letter, and at last told me +the whole story. I persuaded him not to answer it. A fortnight ago, +she wrote again, proposing to come back here--to 'look after' +us--poor things! This time, <i>I</i> replied. She would like +Tallyn, no doubt, as a place of retreat, should other plans fail; +but it will not be open to her!"</p> +<p>It was not energy now--vindictive energy--that was lacking to +the personality before him!</p> +<p>"An odious young woman" exclaimed Sir James, lifting hands and +eyebrows. "I am afraid I always thought so, saving your presence, +Lady Lucy. However, she will want a retreat; for her plans--in the +quarter you name--have not a chance of success."</p> +<p>"I am delighted to hear it!" said Lady Lucy, still erect and +flushed. "What do you know?"</p> +<p>"Simply that Lord Philip is not in the least likely to marry +her, having, I imagine, views in quite other quarters--so I am +told. But he is the least scrupulous of men--and no doubt if, at +Eastham, she threw herself into his arms--'what mother's son,' et +cetera. Only, if she imagined herself to have caught him--such an +old and hardened stager!--in a week--her abilities are less than I +supposed."</p> +<p>"Alicia's self-conceit was always her weak point."</p> +<p>But as she spoke the force imparted by resentment died away. +Lady Lucy sank back in her chair.</p> +<p>"And Oliver felt it very much?" asked Sir James, after a pause, +his shrewd eyes upon her.</p> +<p>"He was wounded, of course--he has been more depressed since; +but I have never believed that he was in love with her."</p> +<p>Sir James did not pursue the subject, but the vivacity of the +glance bent now on the fire, now on his companion, betrayed the +marching thoughts behind.</p> +<p>"Will Oliver see me this evening?" he inquired, presently.</p> +<p>"I hope so. He promised me to make the effort."</p> +<p>A servant knocked at the door. It was Oliver's valet.</p> +<p>"Please, my lady, Mr. Marsham wished me to say he was afraid he +would not be strong enough to see Sir James Chide to-night. He is +very sorry--and would Sir James be kind enough to come and see him +after breakfast to-morrow?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy threw up her hands in a little gesture of despair, +Then she rose, and went to speak to the servant in the doorway.</p> +<p>When she returned she looked whiter and more shrivelled than +before.</p> +<p>"Is he worse to-night?" asked Sir James, gently.</p> +<p>"It is the pain," she said, in a muffled voice; "and we can't +touch it--yet. He mustn't have any more morphia--yet."</p> +<p>She sat down once more. Sir James, the best of gossips, glided +off into talk of London, and of old common friends, trying to amuse +and distract her. But he realized that she scarcely listened to +him, and that he was talking to a woman whose life was being ground +away between a last affection and the torment it had power to cause +her. A new Lady Lucy, indeed! Had any one ever dared to pity her +before?</p> +<p>Meanwhile, five miles off, a girl whom he loved as a daughter +was eating her heart out for sorrow over this mother and +son--consumed, as he guessed, with the wild desire to offer them, +in any sacrificial mode they pleased, her youth and her sweet self. +In one way or another he had found out that Hugh Roughsedge had +been sent about his business--of course, with all the usual +softening formulæ.</p> +<p>And now there was a kind of mute conflict going on between +himself and Mrs. Colwood on the one side, and Diana on the other +side.</p> +<p>No, she should not spend and waste her youth in the vain attempt +to mend this house of tragedy!--it was not to be tolerated--not to +be thought of. She would suffer, but she would get over it; and +Oliver would probably die. Sooner or later she would begin life +afresh, if only he was able to stand between her and the madness in +her heart.</p> +<p>But as he sat there, looking at Lady Lucy, he realized that it +might have been better for his powers and efficacy as a counsellor +if he, too, had held aloof from this house of pain.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<br> +<p>It was about ten o'clock at night. Lankester, who had arrived +from London an hour before, had said good-night to Lady Lucy and +Sir James, and had slipped into Marsham's room. Marsham had barred +his door that evening against both his mother and Sir James. But +Lankester was not excluded.</p> +<p>Off and on and in the intervals of his parliamentary work he had +been staying at Tallyn for some days. A letter from Lady Lucy, in +reply to an inquiry, had brought him down. Oliver had received him +with few words--indeed, with an evident distaste for words; but at +the end of the first day's visit had asked him abruptly, +peremptorily even, to come again.</p> +<p>When he entered Marsham's room he found the invalid asleep under +the influence of morphia. The valet, a young fellow, was +noiselessly putting things straight. Lankester noticed that he +looked pale.</p> +<p>"A bad time?" he said, in a whisper, standing beside the +carefully regulated spinal couch on which Marsham was sleeping.</p> +<p>"Awful, sir. He was fair beside himself till we gave him the +morphia."</p> +<p>"Is there anybody sitting up?"</p> +<p>"No. He'll be quiet now for six or seven hours. I shall be in +the next room."</p> +<p>The young man spoke wearily. It was clear that the moral strain +of what he had just seen had weighed upon him as much as the +fatigue of the day's attendance.</p> +<p>"Come!" said Lankester, looking at him. "You want a good night. +Go to my room. I'll lie down there." He pointed to Marsham's +bedroom, now appropriated to the valet, while the master, for the +sake of space and cheerfulness, had been moved into the +sitting-room. The servant hesitated, protested, and was at last +persuaded, being well aware of Marsham's liking for this queer, +serviceable being.</p> +<p>Lankester took various directions from him, and packed him off. +Then, instead of going to the adjoining room, he chose a chair +beside a shaded lamp, and said to himself that he would sleep by +the fire.</p> +<p>Presently the huge house sank into a silence even more profound +than that in which it was now steeped by day. A cold autumn wind +blew round about it. After midnight the wind dropped, and the +temperature with it. The first severe frost laid its grip on forest +and down and garden. Silently the dahlias and the roses died, the +leaves shrivelled and blackened, and a cold and glorious moon rose +upon the ruins of the summer.</p> +<p>Lankester dozed and woke, keeping up the fire, and wrapping +himself in an eider-down, with which the valet had provided him. In +the small hours he walked across the room to look at Marsham. He +was lying still and breathing heavily. His thick fair hair, always +slightly gray from the time he was thirty, had become much grayer +of late; the thin handsome face was drawn and damp, the eyes +cavernous, the lips bloodless. Even in sleep his aspect showed what +he had suffered.</p> +<p>Poor, poor old fellow!</p> +<p>Lankester's whole being softened into pity. Yet he had no +illusions as to the man before him--a man of inferior <i>morale</i> +and weak will, incapable, indeed, of the clever brutalities by +which the wicked flourish; incapable also of virtues that must, +after all, be tolerably common, or the world would run much more +lamely than it does. Straight, honorable, unselfish +fellows--Lankester knew scores of them, rich and poor, clever and +slow, who could and did pass the tests of life without flinching; +who could produce in any society--as politicians or +green-grocers--an impression of uprightness and power, an effect of +character, that Marsham, for all his ability, had never produced, +or, in the long run, and as he came to be known, had never +sustained.</p> +<p>Well, what then? In the man looking down on Marsham not a tinge +of pharisaic condemnation mingled with the strange clearness of his +judgment. What are we all--the best of us? Lankester had not +parted, like the majority of his contemporaries, with the "sense of +sin." A vivid, spiritual imagination, trained for years on prayer +and reverie, showed him the world and human nature--his own first +and foremost--everywhere flecked and stained with evil. For the man +of religion the difference between saint and sinner has never been +as sharp as for the man of the world; it is for the difference +between holiness and sin that he reserves his passion. And the +stricken or repentant sinner is at all times nearer to his heart +than the men "who need no repentance."</p> +<p>Moreover, it is in men like Lankester that the ascetic temper +common to all ages and faiths is perpetually reproduced, the temper +which makes of suffering itself a divine and sacred thing--the +symbol of a mystery. In his own pity for this emaciated arrested +youth he read the pledge of a divine sympathy, the secret voice of +a God suffering for and with man, which, in its myriad forms, is +the primeval faith of the race. Where a thinker of another type +would have seen mere aimless waste and mutilation, this evangelical +optimist bared the head and bent the knee. The spot whereon he +stood was holy ground, and above this piteous sleeper heavenly +dominations, princedoms, powers, hung in watch.</p> +<p>He sank, indeed, upon his knees beside the sleeper. In the +intense and mystical concentration, which the habit of his life had +taught him, the prayer to which he committed himself took a +marvellous range without ever losing its detail, its poignancy. The +pain, moral and physical, of man--pain of the savage, the slave, +the child; the miseries of innumerable persons he had known, whose +stories had been confided to him, whose fates he had shared; the +anguish of irreparable failure, of missed, untasted joy; agonies +brutal or obscure, of nerve and brain!--his mind and soul +surrendered themselves to these impressions, shook under the storm +and scourge of them. His prayer was not his own; it seemed to be +the Spirit wrestling with Itself, and rending his own weak +life.</p> +<p>He drew nearer to Marsham, resting his forehead on the bed. The +firelight threw the shadow of his gaunt kneeling figure on the +white walls. And at last, after the struggle, there seemed to be an +effluence--a descending, invading love--overflowing his own +being--enwrapping the sufferer before him--silencing the clamor of +a weeping world. And the dual mind of the modern, even in +Lankester, wavered between the two explanations: "It is myself," +said the critical intellect, "the intensification and projection of +myself." "<i>It is God!</i>" replied the soul.</p> +<p>Marsham, meanwhile, as the morning drew on, and as the veil of +morphia between him and reality grew thinner, was aware of a dream +slowly drifting into consciousness--of an experience that grew more +vivid as it progressed. Some one was in the room; he moved +uneasily, lifted his head, and saw indistinctly a figure in the +shadows standing near the smouldering fire. It was not his servant; +and suddenly his dream mingled with what he saw, and his heart +began to throb.</p> +<p>"Ferrier!" he called, under his breath. The figure turned, but +in his blindness and semi-consciousness he did not recognize +it.</p> +<p>"I want to speak to you," he said, in the same guarded, +half-whispered voice. "Of course, I had no right to do it, +but--"</p> +<p>His voice dropped and his eyelids closed.</p> +<p>Lankester advanced from the fire. He saw Marsham was not really +awake, and he dreaded to rouse him completely, lest it should only +be to the consciousness of pain. He stooped over him gently, and +spoke his name.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Marsham, murmuring, without opening his eyes. +"There's no need for you to rub it in. I behaved like a beast, and +Barrington--"</p> +<p>The voice became inarticulate again. The prostration and pallor +of the speaker, the feebleness of the tone--nothing could have been +more pitiful. An idea rushed upon Lankester. He again bent over the +bed.</p> +<p>"Don't think of it any more," he said. "It's forgotten!"</p> +<p>A slight and ghastly smile showed on Marsham's lip as he lay +with closed eyes. "Forgotten! No, by Jove!" Then, after an uneasy +movement, he said, in a stronger and irritable voice, which seemed +to come from another region of consciousness:</p> +<p>"It would have been better to have burned the paper. One can't +get away from the thing. It--it disturbs me--"</p> +<p>"What paper?" said Lankester, close to the dreamer's ear.</p> +<p>"The <i>Herald</i>," said Marsham, impatiently.</p> +<p>"Where is it?"</p> +<p>"In that cabinet by the fire."</p> +<p>"Shall I burn it?"</p> +<p>"Yes--don't bother me!" Evidently he now thought he was speaking +to his valet, and a moan of pain escaped him. Lankester walked over +to the cabinet and opened the top drawer. He saw a folded newspaper +lying within it. After a moment's hesitation he lifted it, and +perceived by the light of the night-lamp that it was the +<i>Herald</i> of August 2--the famous number issued on the morning +of Ferrier's death. All the story of the communicated article and +the "Barrington letter" ran through his mind. He stood debating +with himself, shaken by emotion. Then he deliberately took the +paper to the fire, stirred the coals, and, tearing up the paper, +burned it piece by piece.</p> +<p>After it was done he walked back to Marsham's side. "I have +burned the paper," he said, kneeling down by him.</p> +<p>Marsham, who was breathing lightly with occasional twitchings of +the brow, took no notice. But after a minute he said, in a steady +yet thrilling voice:</p> +<p>"Ferrier!"</p> +<p>Silence.</p> +<p>"Ferrier!" The tone of the repeated word brought the moisture to +Lankester's eyes. He took the dreamer's hand in his, pressing it. +Marsham returned the pressure, first strongly, again more feebly. +Then a wave of narcotic sleep returned upon him, and he seemed to +sink into it profoundly.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Next morning, as Marsham, after his dressing, was lying moody +and exhausted on his pillows, he suddenly said to his servant:</p> +<p>"I want something out of that cabinet by the fire."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir." The man moved toward it obediently.</p> +<p>"Find a newspaper in the top drawer, folded up small--on the +right-hand side."</p> +<p>Richard looked.</p> +<p>"I am sorry, sir, but there is nothing in the drawer at +all."</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" said Marsham, angrily. "You've got the wrong +drawer!"</p> +<p>The whole cabinet was searched to no purpose. Marsham grew very +pale. He must, of course, have destroyed the paper himself, and his +illness had effaced his memory of the act, as of other things. Yet +he could not shake off an impression of mystery. Twice now, weeks +after Ferrier's death, he seemed to have been in Ferrier's living +presence, under conditions very unlike those of an ordinary dream. +He could only remind himself how easily the brain plays tricks upon +a man in his state.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>After breakfast, Sir James Chide was admitted. But Oliver was +now in the state of obsession, when the whole being, already +conscious of a certain degree of pain, dreads the approach of a +much intenser form--hears it as the footfall of a beast of prey, +drawing nearer room by room, and can think of nothing else but the +suffering it foresees, and the narcotic which those about him deal +out to him so grudgingly, rousing in him, the while, a secret and +silent fury. He answered Sir James in monosyllables, lying, +dressed, upon his sofa, the neuralgic portion of the spine packed +and cushioned from any possible friction, his forehead drawn and +frowning.</p> +<p>Sir James shrank from asking him about himself. But it was +useless to talk of politics; Oliver made no response, and was +evidently no longer abreast even of the newspapers.</p> +<p>"Does your man read you the <i>Times</i>?" asked Sir James, +noticing that it lay unopened beside him.</p> +<p>Oliver nodded. "There was a dreadful being my mother found a +fortnight ago. I got rid of him."</p> +<p>He had evidently not strength to be more explicit. But Sir James +had heard from Lady Lucy of the failure of her secretarial +attempt.</p> +<p>"I hear they talk of moving you for the winter."</p> +<p>"They talk of it. I shall oppose it."</p> +<p>"I hope not!--for Lady Lucy's sake. She is so hopeful about it, +and she is not fit herself to spend the winter in England."</p> +<p>"My mother must go," said Oliver, closing his eyes.</p> +<p>"She will never leave you."</p> +<p>Marsham made no reply; then, without closing his eyes again, he +said, between his teeth: "What is the use of going from one hell to +another hell--through a third--which is the worst of all?"</p> +<p>"You dread the journey?" said Sir James, gently. "But there are +ways and means."</p> +<p>"No!" Oliver's voice was sudden and loud. "There are none!--that +make any difference."</p> +<p>Sir James was left perplexed, cudgelling his brains as to what +to attempt next. It was Marsham, however, who broke the silence. +With his dimmed sight he looked, at last, intently, at his +companion.</p> +<p>"Is--is Miss Mallory still at Beechcote?"</p> +<p>Sir James moved involuntarily.</p> +<p>"Yes, certainly."</p> +<p>"You see a great deal of her?"</p> +<p>"I do--I--" Sir James cleared his throat a little--I look upon +her as my adopted daughter."</p> +<p>"I should like to be remembered to her."</p> +<p>"You shall be," said Sir James, rising. "I will give her your +message. Meanwhile, may I tell Lady Lucy that you feel a little +easier this morning?"</p> +<p>Oliver slowly and sombrely shook his head. Then, however, he +made a visible effort.</p> +<p>"But I want to see her. Will you tell her?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy, however, was already in the room. Probably she had +heard the message from the open doorway where she often hovered. +Oliver held out his hand to her, and she stooped and kissed him. +She asked him a few low-voiced questions, to which he mostly +answered by a shake of the head. Then she attempted some ordinary +conversation, during which it was very evident that the sick man +wished to be left alone.</p> +<p>She and Sir James retreated to her sitting-room, and there Lady +Lucy, sitting helplessly by the fire, brushed away some tears of +which she was only half conscious. Sir James walked up and down, +coming at last to a stop beside her.</p> +<p>"It seems to me this is as much a moral as a physical breakdown. +Can nothing be done to take him out of himself?--give him fresh +heart?"</p> +<p>"We have tried everything--suggested everything. But it seems +impossible to rouse him to make an effort."</p> +<p>Sir James resumed his walk--only to come to another stop.</p> +<p>"Do you know--that he just now--sent a message by me to Miss +Mallory?"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy started.</p> +<p>"Did he?" she said, faintly, her eyes on the blaze. He came up +to her.</p> +<p>"<i>There</i> is a woman who would never have deserted you!--or +him!" he said, in a burst of irrepressible feeling, which would +out.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy's glance met his--silently, a little proudly. She said +nothing and presently he took his leave.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The day wore on. A misty sunshine enwrapped the beech woods. The +great trees stood marked here and there by the first fiery summons +of the frost. Their supreme moment was approaching which would +strike them, head to foot, into gold and amber, in a purple air. +Lady Lucy took her drive among them as a duty, but between her and +the enchanted woodland there was a gulf fixed.</p> +<p>She paid a visit to Oliver, trembling, as she always did, lest +some obscure catastrophe, of which she was ever vaguely in dread, +should have developed. But she found him in a rather easier phase, +with Lankester, who had just returned from town, reading aloud to +him. She gave them tea, thinking, as she did so, of the noisy +parties gathered so recently, during the election weeks, round the +tea-tables in the hall. And then she returned to her own room to +write some letters.</p> +<p>She looked once more with distaste and weariness at the pile of +letters and notes awaiting her. All the business of the house, the +estate, the village--she was getting an old woman; she was weary of +it. And with sudden bitterness she remembered that she had a +daughter, and that Isabel had never been a real day's help to her +in her life. Where was she now? Campaigning in the north--speaking +at a bye-election--lecturing for the suffrage. Since the accident +she had paid two flying visits to her mother and brother. Oliver +had got no help from her--nor her mother; she was the Mrs. Jellyby +of a more hypocritical day. Yet Lady Lucy in her youth had been a +very motherly mother; she could still recall in the depths of her +being the thrill of baby palms pressed "against the circle of the +breast."</p> +<p>She sat down to her task, when the door opened behind her. A +footman came in, saying something which she did not catch. "My +letters are not ready yet"--she threw over her shoulder, irritably, +without looking at him. The door closed. But some one was still in +the room. She turned sharply in astonishment.</p> +<p>"May I disturb you, Lady Lucy?" said a tremulous voice.</p> +<p>She saw a tall and slender woman, in black, bending toward her, +with a willowy appealing grace, and eyes that beseeched. Diana +Mallory stood before her. There was a pause. Then Lady Lucy rose +slowly, laid down her spectacles, and held out her hand.</p> +<p>"It is very kind of you to come and see me," she said, +mechanically. "Will you sit down?"</p> +<p>Diana gazed at her, with the childish short-sighted pucker of +the brow that Lady Lucy remembered well. Then she came closer, +still holding Lady Lucy's hand.</p> +<p>"Sir James thought I might come," she said, breathlessly. "Isn't +there--isn't there anything I might do? I wanted you to let me help +you--like a secretary--won't you? Sir James thought you looked so +tired--and this big place!--I am sure there are things I might +do--and oh! it would make me so happy!"</p> +<p>Now she had her two hands clasping, fondling Lady Lucy's. Her +eyes shone with tears, her mouth trembled.</p> +<p>"Oh, you must--you must!" she cried, suddenly; "don't let's +remember anything but that we were friends--that you were so kind +to me--you and Mr. Oliver--in the spring. I can't bear sitting +there at Beechcote doing nothing--amusing myself--when you--and Mr. +Oliver--"</p> +<p>She stopped, forcing back the tears that would drive their way +up, studying in dismay the lined and dwindled face before her. Lady +Lucy colored deeply. During the months which had elapsed since the +broken engagement, she, even in her remote and hostile distance, +had become fully aware of the singular prestige, the homage of a +whole district's admiration and tenderness, which had gathered +round Diana. She had resented the prestige and the homage, as +telling against Oliver, unfairly. Yet as she looked at her visitor +she felt the breath of their ascendency. Tender courage and +self-control--the woman, where the girl had been--a nature steadied +and ennobled--these facts and victories spoke from Diana's face, +her touch; they gave even something of maternity to her maiden +youth.</p> +<p>"You come to a sad house," said Lady Lucy, holding her away a +little.</p> +<p>"I know." The voice was quivering and sweet. "But he will +recover--of course he'll recover!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy shook her head.</p> +<p>"He seems to have no will to recover."</p> +<p>Then her limbs failed her. She sank into a chair by the fire, +and there was Diana on a stool at her feet--timidly +daring--dropping soft caresses on the hand she held, drawing out +the tragic history of the preceding weeks, bringing, indeed, to +this sad and failing mother what she had perforce done without till +now--that electric sympathy of women with each other which is the +natural relief and sustenance of the sex.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy forgot her letters--forgot, in her mind-weariness, all +the agitating facts about this girl that she had once so vividly +remembered. She had not the strength to battle and hold aloof. Who +now could talk of marrying or giving in marriage? They met under a +shadow of death; the situation between them reduced to bare +elemental things.</p> +<p>"You'll stay and dine with me?" she said at last, feebly. "We'll +send you home. The carriages have nothing to do. And"--she +straightened herself--"you must see Oliver. He will know that you +are here."</p> +<p>Diana said nothing. Lady Lucy rose and left the room. Diana +leaned her head against the chair in which the older lady had been +sitting, and covered her eyes. Her whole being was gathered into +the moment of waiting.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy returned and beckoned. Once more Diana found herself +hurrying along the ugly, interminable corridors with which she had +been so familiar in the spring. The house had never seemed to her +so forlorn. They paused at an open door, guarded by a screen.</p> +<p>"Go in, please," said Lady Lucy, making room for her to +pass.</p> +<p>Diana entered, shaken with inward fear. She passed the screen, +and there beyond it was an invalid couch--a man lying on it--and a +hand held out to her.</p> +<p>That shrunken and wasted being the Oliver Marsham of two months +before! Her heart beat against her breast. Surely she was looking +at the irreparable! Her high courage wavered and sank.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>But Marsham did not perceive it. He saw, as in a cloud, the +lovely oval of the face, the fringed eyes, the bending form.</p> +<p>"Will you sit down?" he said, hoarsely.</p> +<p>She took a chair beside him, still holding his hand. It seemed +as though she were struck dumb by what she saw. He inquired if she +was at Beechcote.</p> +<p>"Yes." Her head drooped. "But I want Lady Lucy to let me come +and stay here--a little."</p> +<p>"No one ought to stay here," he said, abruptly, two spots of +feverish color appearing on his cheeks. "Sir James would advise you +not. So do I."</p> +<p>She looked up softly.</p> +<p>"Your mother is so tired; she wants help. Won't you let me?"</p> +<p>Their eyes met. His hand trembled violently in hers.</p> +<p>"Why did you come?" he said, suddenly, breathing fast.</p> +<p>She found no words, only tears. She had relinquished his hand, +but he stretched it out again and touched her bent head.</p> +<p>"There's no time left," he said, impatiently, "to--to fence in. +Look here! I can't stand this pain many minutes more." He moved +with a stifled groan. "They'll give me morphia--it's the only +thing. But I want you to know. I was engaged to Alicia +Drake--after--we broke it off. And I never loved her--not for a +moment--and she knew it. Then, as soon as this happened she left +us. There was poetic justice, wasn't it? Who can blame her? I +don't. I want you to know--what sort of a fellow I am."</p> +<p>Diana had recovered her strength. She raised his hand, and +leaned her face upon it.</p> +<p>"Let me stay," she repeated--"let me stay!"</p> +<p>"No!" he said, with emphasis. "You should only stay if I might +tell you--I am a miserable creature--but I love you! And I may be a +miserable creature--in Chide's opinion--everybody's. But I am not +quite such a cur as that."</p> +<p>"Oliver!" She slipped to her knees. "Oliver! don't send me +away!" All her being spoke in the words. Her dark head sank upon +his shoulder, he felt her fresh cheek against his. With a cry he +pressed her to him.</p> +<p>"I am dying--and--I--I am weak," he said, incoherently. He +raised her hand as it lay across his breast and kissed it. Then he +dropped it despairingly.</p> +<p>"The awful thing is that when the pain comes I care about +nothing--not even you--<i>nothing</i>. And it's coming now. +Go!--dearest. Good-night. To-morrow!--Call my servant." And as she +fled she heard a sound of anguish that was like a sword in her own +heart.</p> +<p>His servant hurried to him; in the passage outside Diana found +Lady Lucy. They went back to the sitting-room together.</p> +<p>"The morphia will ease him," said Lady Lucy, with painful +composure, putting her arm round the girl's shoulders. "Did he tell +you he was dying?"</p> +<p>Diana nodded, unable to speak.</p> +<p>"It may be so. But the doctors don't agree." Then with a manner +that recalled old days: "May I ask--I don't know that I have the +right--what he said to you?"</p> +<p>She had withdrawn her arm, and the two confronted each +other.</p> +<p>"Perhaps you won't allow it," said Diana, piteously. "He said I +might only stay, if--if he might tell me--he loved me."</p> +<p>"Allow it?" said Lady Lucy, vaguely--"allow it?"</p> +<p>She fell into her chair, and Diana looked down upon her, hanging +on the next word.</p> +<p>Lady Lucy made various movements as though to speak, which came +to nothing.</p> +<p>"I have no one--but him," she said at last, with pathetic +irrelevance. "No one. Isabel--"</p> +<p>Her voice failed her. Diana held out her hands, the tears +running down her cheeks. "Dear Lady Lucy, let me! I am yours--and +Oliver's."</p> +<p>"It will, perhaps, be only a few weeks--or months--and then he +will be taken from us."</p> +<p>"But give me the right to those weeks. You wouldn't--you +wouldn't separate us now!"</p> +<p>Lady Lucy suddenly broke down. Diana clung to her with tears, +and in that hour she became as a daughter to the woman who had +sentenced her youth. Lady Lucy asked no pardon in words, to Diana's +infinite relief; but the surrender of weakness and sorrow was +complete. "Sir James will forbid it," she said at last, when she +had recovered her calm.</p> +<p>"No one shall forbid it!" said Diana, rising with a smile. "Now, +may I answer some of those letters for you?"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>For some weeks after this Diana went backward and forward daily, +or almost daily, between Beechcote and Tallyn. Then she migrated to +Tallyn altogether, and Muriel Colwood with her. Before and after +that migration wisdom had been justified of her children in the +person of the doctor. Hugh Roughsedge's leave had been prolonged, +owing to a slight but troublesome wound in the arm, of which he had +made nothing on coming home. No wound could have been more +opportune--more friendly to the doctor's craving for a +daughter-in-law. It kept the Captain at Beechcote, but it did not +prevent him from coming over every Sunday to Tallyn to bring +flowers or letters, or news from the village; and it was positively +benefited by such mild exercise as a man may take, in company with +a little round-eyed woman, feather-light and active, yet in +relation to Diana, like a tethered dove, that can only take short +flights. Only here it was a tether self-imposed and of the +heart.</p> +<p>There was no direct wooing, however, and for weeks their talk +was all of Diana. Then the Captain's arm got well, and Nigeria +called. But Muriel would not have allowed him to say a word before +departure had it not been for Diana--and the doctor--who were +suddenly found to have entered, in regard to this matter, upon a +league and covenant not to be resisted. Whether the doctor opened +Diana's eyes need not be inquired; it is certain that if, all the +while, in Oliver's room, she and Lady Lucy had not been wrestling +hour by hour with death--or worse--Diana would have wanted no one +to open them. When she did understand, there was no opposing her. +She pleaded--not without tears--to be given the happiness of +knowing they were pledged, and her Muriel safe in harbor. So +Roughsedge had his say; a quiet engagement began its course in the +world; Brookshire as yet knew nothing; and the doctor triumphed +over Patricia.</p> +<p>During this time Sir James Chide watched the development of a +situation he had not been able to change with a strange mixture of +revolt and sympathy. Sometimes he looked beyond the tragedy which +he thought inevitable to a recovered and normal life for Diana; +sometimes he felt a dismal certainty that when Oliver had left her, +that recovered life could only shape itself to ascetic and +self-renouncing ends. Had she belonged to his own church, she would +no doubt have become a "religious"; and he would have felt it the +natural solution. Outside the Catholic Church, the same need takes +shape--he thought--in forms less suited to a woman's weakness, less +conducive to her dignity.</p> +<p>All through he resented the sacrifice of a being so noble, true, +and tender to a love, in his eyes, so unfitting and derogatory. Not +all the pathos of suffering could blunt his sense of Marsham's +inferiority, or make him think it "worth while."</p> +<p>Then, looking deeper, he saw the mother in the child; and in +Diana's devotion, mysterious influences, flowing from her mother's +fate--from the agony, the sin, the last tremulous hope, and piteous +submission of Juliet Sparling. He perceived that in this broken, +tortured happiness to which Diana had given herself there was some +sustaining or consoling element that nothing more normal or more +earthly would have brought her; he guessed at spiritual currents +and forces linking the dead with the living, and at a soul +heroically calm among them, sending forth rays into the darkness. +His religion, which was sincere, enabled him to understand her; his +affection, his infinite delicacy of feeling, helped her.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Diana and Lankester became the sustaining angels of a +stricken house. But not all their tenderness and their pity could, +in the end, do much for the two sufferers they tried to comfort. In +Oliver's case the spinal pain and disorganization increased, the +blindness also; Lady Lucy became steadily feebler and more +decrepit. At last all life was centred on one hope--the coming of a +great French specialist, a disciple of Charcot's, recommended by +the English Ambassador in Paris, who was an old friend and kinsman +of Lady Lucy.</p> +<p>But before he arrived Diana took a resolution. She went very +early one morning to see Sir James Chide. He was afterward closeted +with Lady Lucy, and he went up to town the following day on Diana's +business. The upshot of it all was that on the morning of New +Year's Eve a marriage was celebrated in Oliver Marsham's room by +the Rector of Tallyn and Mr. Lavery. It was a wedding which, to all +who witnessed it, was among the most heart-rending experiences of +life. Oliver, practically blind, could not see his bride, and only +morphia enabled him to go through it. Mrs. Fotheringham was to have +been present; but there was a feminist congress in Paris, and she +was detained at the last moment. The French specialist came. He +made a careful examination, but would give no decided opinion. He +was to stay a week at Tallyn in order to watch the case, and he +reserved his judgment. Meanwhile he gave certain directions as to +local treatment, and he asked that a new drug might be tried during +the night instead of the second dose of morphia usually given. The +hearts of all in charge of the invalid sank as they foresaw the +inevitable struggle.</p> +<p>In the evening the new doctor paid a second visit to his +patient. Diana saw him afterward alone. He was evidently touched by +the situation in the house, and, cautious as he was, allowed +himself a few guarded sentences throwing light on the doubt--which +was in effect a hope--in his own mind.</p> +<p>"Madame, it is a very difficult case. The emaciation, the +weakness, the nerve depression--even if there were no organic +disease--are alone enough to threaten life. The morphia is, of +course, a contributing cause. The question before us is: Have we +here a case of irreparable disease caused by the blow, or a case of +nervous shock producing all the symptoms of disease--pain, +blindness, emaciation--but ultimately curable? That is what we have +to solve."</p> +<p>Diana's eyes implored him.</p> +<p>"Give him hope," she said, with intensity. "For +weeks--months--he has never allowed himself a moment's hope."</p> +<p>The doctor reflected.</p> +<p>"We will do what we can," he said, slowly. "Meanwhile, +cheerfulness!--all the cheerfulness possible."</p> +<p>Diana's faint, obedient smile, as she rose to leave the room, +touched him afresh. Just married, he understood. These are the +things that women do!</p> +<p>As he opened the door for her he said, with some hesitation: +"You have, perhaps, heard of some of the curious effects that a +railway collision produces. A man who has been in a collision and +received a blow suffers afterward great pain, loss of walking +power, impairment of vision, and so forth. The man's suffering is +real--the man himself perfectly sincere--his doctor diagnoses +incurable injury--the jury awards him damages. Yet, in a certain +number of instances, the man recovers. Have we here an aggravated +form of the same thing? <i>Ah, madame, courage!</i>"</p> +<p>For in the doorway he saw her fall back against the lintel for +support. The hope that he infused tested her physically more +severely than the agonies of the preceding weeks. But almost +immediately she controlled herself, smiled at him again, and +went.</p> +<p>That night various changes were made at Tallyn. Diana's maid +unpacked, in the room communicating with Marsham's; and Diana, pale +and composed, made a new arrangement with Oliver's male nurse. She +was to take the nursing of the first part of the night, and he was +to relieve her at three in the morning. To her would fall the +administration of the new medicine.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>At eleven o'clock all was still in the house. Diana opened the +door of Oliver's room with a beating heart. She wore a +dressing-gown of some white stuff; her black hair, released from +the combs of the day, was loosely rolled up, and curled round her +neck and temples. She came in with a gentle deliberate step; it was +but a few hours since the ceremony of the morning, but the +tranformation in her was instinctive and complete. To-night she was +the wife--alone with her husband.</p> +<p>She saw that he was not asleep, and she went and knelt down +beside him.</p> +<p>"Oliver, darling!"</p> +<p>He passed his hand over her hair.</p> +<p>"I have been waiting for you--it is our wedding night."</p> +<p>She hid her face against him.</p> +<p>"Oh! you angel!" he murmured to her--"angel of consolation! When +I am gone, say to yourself: 'I drew him out of the pit, and helped +him to die'; say 'he suffered, and I forgave him everything'; say +'he was my husband, and I carried him on my heart--so.'" He moved +toward her. She put her arms under his head and drew him to her +breast, stooping over him and kissing him.</p> +<p>So the first part of the night went by, he very much under the +influence of morphia and not in pain; murmured words passing at +intervals between them, the outward signs of an inward and +ineffable bond. Often, as she sat motionless beside him, the +thought of her mother stirred in her heart--father, mother, +husband--close, close all of them--"closer than hands and +feet"--one with her and one with God.</p> +<p>About two o'clock she gave him the new drug, he piteously +consenting for her sake. Then in a mortal terror she resumed her +place beside him. In a few minutes surely the pain, the leaping +hungry pain would be upon him, and she must see him wrestle with it +defenceless. She sat holding her breath, all existence gathered +into fear.</p> +<p>But the minutes passed. She felt the tension of his hand relax. +He went to sleep so gently that in her infinite relief she too +dropped into sleep, her head beside his, the black hair mingling +with the gray on the same pillow.</p> +<p>The servant coming in, as he had been told, looked at them in +astonishment, and stole away again.</p> +<p>An hour or so later Oliver woke.</p> +<p>"I have had no morphia, and I am not in pain. My God! what does +it mean?"</p> +<p>Trembling, he put out his hand. Yes!--Diana was there--asleep in +her chair. His <i>wife</i>!</p> +<p>His touch roused her, and as she bent over him he saw her dimly +in the dim light--her black hair, her white dress.</p> +<p>"You can bring that old French fellow here whenever you like," +he said, holding her. Then, faintly, his eyes closed: "This is New +Year's Day."</p> +<p>Once more Diana's kisses fell "on the tired heart like rain"; +and when she left him he lay still, wrapped in a tangle of thought +which his weakness could not unravel. Presently he dropped again +into sleep.</p> +<p>Diana too slept, the sleep of a young exhaustion; and when she +woke up, it was to find her being flooded with an upholding, +enkindling joy, she knew not how or whence. She threw open the +window to the frosty dawn, thinking of the year before and her +first arrival at Beechcote. And there, in the eastern sky--no +radiant planet--but a twinkling star, in an ethereal blue; and from +the valley below, dim joyous sounds of bells.</p> +<br> +<br> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13453 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-001.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1e3b81 --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-001.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-002.png b/13453-h/images/image-002.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d940b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-002.png diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-098.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-098.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0414437 --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-098.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-174.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-174.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddffccd --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-174.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-256.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-256.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bce2f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-256.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-332.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-332.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..50a7052 --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-332.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-462.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-462.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ece81f --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-462.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-492.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-492.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f418ea --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-492.jpg diff --git a/13453-h/images/image-514.jpg b/13453-h/images/image-514.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f29f08 --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-h/images/image-514.jpg |
