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diff --git a/13453-0.txt b/13453-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83b15ad --- /dev/null +++ b/13453-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17907 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13453 *** + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 13453-h.htm or 13453-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/4/5/13453/13453-h/13453-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/4/5/13453/13453-h.zip) + + + + + +THE TESTING OF DIANA MALLORY + +by + +MRS. HUMPHRY WARD + +Illustrated by W. Hatherell, R.I. + +1908 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "THERE SHE WAITED WHILE THE DAWN STOLE UPON THE NIGHT"] + + + + +BOOKS BY MRS. HUMPHRY WARD + +THE TESTING OF DIANA MALLORY. Ill'd ... $1.50 + +LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER. Illustrated ... 1.50 + Two volume edition ... 3.00 + +THE MARRIAGE OF WILLIAM ASHE. Ill'd ... 1.50 + Two volume Autograph edition ... net 4.00 + +FENWICK'S CAREER. Illustrated ... 1.50 + De Luxe edition, two volumes ... net 5.00 + +ELEANOR ... 1.50 + +LIFE OF W. T. ARNOLD ... net 1.50 + + + + +TO +MY KIND HOSTS BEYOND THE ATLANTIC + +FROM + +A GRATEFUL TRAVELLER + + +JULY, 1908 + + + + +Illustrations + + +"THERE SHE WAITED WHILE THE DAWN STOLE UPON THE NIGHT". . . Frontispiece + +"THE MAN'S PULSES LEAPED ANEW". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 + +"YOU NEEDN'T BE CROSS WITH ME, DIANA" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 + +"'DEAR LADY,' HE SAID, GENTLY, 'I THINK YOU OUGHT TO GIVE WAY!'". . . 256 + +"ALICIA, UPRIGHT IN HER CORNER--OLIVER, DEEP IN HIS ARMCHAIR" . . . . 332 + +"SIR JAMES PLAYED DIANA'S GAME WITH PERFECT DISCRETION" . . . . . . . 462 + +"SIR JAMES MADE HIMSELF DELIGHTFUL TO THEM" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 492 + +"ROUGHSEDGE STOOD NEAR, RELUCTANTLY WAITING". . . . . . . . . . . . . 514 + + + + +Part I + + _"Action is transitory--a step, a blow, + The motion of a muscle--this way or that-- + 'Tis done, and in the after-vacancy + We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed: + Suffering is permanent, obscure, and dark, + And shares the nature of infinity_." + --THE BORDERERS. + + + + +The Testing of Diana Mallory + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +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. + +"The Star of Bethlehem!--and Christmas Day!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"England!--England!--my own, own country!" + +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. + +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!" + +And still, in a trance of feeling, she feasted her eyes on the quiet +country scene. + +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. + +"Thank goodness!--that's done with," she thought--only to fall into a +sudden remorse. "Papa--papa!--if you were only here too!" + +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 _home!_--home into the +heart of this English land--warm mother-heart, into which she, stranger +and orphan, might creep and be at rest. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +An hour later Miss Mallory left her room behind her, and went tripping +down the broad oak staircase of Beechcote Manor. + +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 _she_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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!" + +The girl's voice fell to a lower note--musical, and full of memory. Mrs. +Colwood noticed the quality of it. + +"Of course if my mother had lived," said Diana, in the same tone, "it +would have been different." + +"But she died when you were a child?" + +"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!" + +"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 +_lived_--has breathed in a country, from one's birth. That's what +I've lost." + +Mrs. Colwood demurred. + +"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 _feel_ England all the more +intensely now because you come fresh to her." + +Diana sprang up, with a change of face--half laugh, half frown. + +"Yes, I feel her! Above all, I feel her enemies!" + +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: + +"There!--now we have come to it. This is my passion--my hobby--this is +_me_!" + +"Her enemies! You are political?" + +"Desperately!" + +"A Tory?" + +"Fanatical. But that's only part of it, 'What should they know of +England, that only England know!'" + +Miss Mallory threw back her head with a gesture that became it. + +"Ah, I see--an Imperialist?" + +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 _struggle to see_--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. + +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. + +In the midst of it voices were suddenly heard outside. Diana started. + +"Carols!" she said, with flushing cheeks. "The first time I have heard +them in England itself!" + +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. + +"Give them a shilling, please, Brown." + +A quick change passed over the countenance of the man addressed. + +"Lady Emily, ma'am, never gave more than three-pence." + +This stately person had formerly served the Vavasours, and was much +inclined to let his present mistress know it. + +Diana looked disappointed, but submissive. + +"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." + +Brown drew himself up a little more stiffly. + +"Lady Emily always gave 'em supper, ma'am, but, begging your pardon, she +didn't hold at all with giving 'em money." + +"Oh, I don't care!" said Miss Mallory, hastily. "I'm sure they'll like +it, Brown! Five shillings, please." + +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. + +"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 _at home!_" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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, _tête-à-tête_, in the direction of +the Vicarage. + +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. + +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. + +"Now I hope Miss Mallory is going to _like_ 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!" + +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 _we_ can do--" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"The Vicar?" said Mrs. Colwood, bewildered + +"A Little Englander!--a _socialist_! And so _rude_ 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." + +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. + +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 _History of the British Army_ I was +brought up on. It was useful when we went to India--because I knew so +much about the regiments we came across." + +This accomplishment of hers proved indeed a god-send; the young man +found his tongue; and the visit ended much better than it began. + +As he said good-bye, he looked, round the drawing-room in wonderment. + +"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." + +He colored as he spoke, and Diana suspected in him a memory of small +past humiliations. Evidently he was sensitive as well as shy. + +"Hard work--dear young man!" she said, with a smile, and a stretch, as +the door closed upon him. "But after all--_'que j'aime le militaire'!_ +Now, shall we go back to work?" + +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 _his_ +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." + +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. + +"Mr. Marsham's Rossetti! I _am_ glad. Now I can face him!" + +She looked up all smiles. + +"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." + +"Have I got a dress?" said Mrs. Colwood, anxiously. + +"Oh, that doesn't matter!--not at the Marshams. I _am_ glad!" repeated +Diana, fondling the book--"If I really had lost it, it would have given +him a horrid advantage!" + +"Who is Mr. Marsham?" + +"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--" + +"But?--but agreeable?" + +"Oh yes," said Diana, uncertainly, and Mrs. Colwood thought she +colored--"oh yes--agreeable!" + +"And he lives near here?" + +"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 _am_ glad I've found his book!" She +went off embracing it. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +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. _Honor_--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 _judgment_ is infallible--her _conduct_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_could_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Please!--please!"--the little lady panted, as they reached the +top--"wasn't this worth it?" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"You have been shooting?" said Diana. + +He admitted it. + +"That's what you enjoy?" + +He flushed. + +"More than anything in the world." + +But he looked at his questioner a little askance, as though uncertain +how she might take so gross a confession. + +Diana laughed, and hoped he got as much as he desired. Then he was not +like his father--who cared so much for books? + +"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." + +"You wouldn't do it for pleasure?" + +"What--reading?" He shook his head decidedly. "Not while I could be +doing anything else." + +"Not history or poetry?" + +He looked at her again nervously. But the girl's face was gay, and he +ventured on the truth. + +"Well, no, I can't say I do. My father reads a deal of poetry aloud." + +"And it bores you?" + +"Well, I don't understand it," he said, slowly and candidly. + +"Don't you even read the papers?" asked Diana, wondering. + +He started. + +"Why, I should think I do!" he cried. "I should rather think I do! +That's another thing altogether--that's not books." + +"Then perhaps you read the debate last night?" She looked at him with a +kindling eye. + +"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." + +Diana flew into discussion--quick breath, red cheeks! Mrs. Colwood +looked on amazed. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! _that_ 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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"You met them abroad?" + +"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." + +"She is nice?" + +"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." + +"It's all rather alarming," said Mrs. Colwood, smiling. + +"No, no!"--Diana turned upon her eagerly. "They're very kind--very, very +kind!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +There was a pleased exclamation from a tall fair man standing near the +fire, who came forward at once to meet them. + +"So glad to see you! But we hoped for you earlier! Mother, here is Miss +Mallory." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"So you like your old house?" he said, presently, to Diana, sitting down +beside her, and dropping his voice a little. + +"It suits me perfectly." + +"I am certain the moat is rheumatic! But you will never admit it." + +"I would, if it were true," she said, smiling. + +"No!--you are much too romantic. You see, I remember our conversations." + +"Did I never admit the truth?" + +"You would never admit it _was_ the truth. And my difficulty was to find +an arbiter between us." + +Diana's face changed a little. He perceived it instantly. + +"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." + +Diana said nothing, but her dark eyes turned on him with a soft friendly +look. His own smiled in response, and he resumed: + +"I suppose you don't know many of these people here?" + +"Not any." + +"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!" + +"I didn't expect to agree with anybody here," said Diana, slyly. + +He laughed. + +"I might offer you Lady Niton--but I refrain. To-morrow I have reason to +believe that two Tories are coming to dinner." + +"Which am I to admire?--your liberality, or their courage?" + +"I have matched them by two socialists. Which will you sit next?" + +"Oh, I am proof!" said Diana. "'Come one, come all.'" + +He looked at her smilingly. + +"Is it always the same? Are you still in love with all the dear old +abuses?" + +"And do you still hate everything that wasn't made last week?" + +"Oh no! We only hate what cheats or oppresses the people." + +"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. + +Oliver Marsham reddened a little; then said: + +"I see my cousin Miss Drake. May I introduce her?--Alicia!" + +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. + +"How do you do? I suppose you've had a long drive? Don't you hate +driving?" + +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. + +"What have you been doing, Alicia, all this time?" said Marsham, as he +handed her a cup of tea. + +"Dressing." + +An incredulous shout from the table. + +"Since lunch!" + +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. + +"May we congratulate you on the result?" said Mr. Ferrier, putting up +his eye-glass. + +"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. + +"Well?" + +"I'm too stupid--I can't understand it." + +Mr. Ferrier laughed. + +"I'm afraid that excuse won't do, Miss Alicia. You must find another." + +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. + +"Well, I wonder whether _you'd_ mind?" + +"Mind what?" + +"If your father had done something shocking--forged--or murdered--or +done something of that kind--supposing, of course, he were dead." + +"Do you mean--if I suddenly found out?" + +She nodded assent. + +"Well!" he reflected; "it would be disagreeable!" + +"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?" + +The slight inflection of the last words drew smiles. Mr. Ferrier held +up a finger. + +"Miss Alicia, I shall lend you no more books." + +"Why? Because I can't appreciate them?" + +Mr. Ferrier laughed. + +"I maintain that book is a book to melt the heart of a stone." + +"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?" + +"My _dear!_" said Lady Lucy, softly. Her singularly white and finely +wrinkled face, framed in a delicate capote of old lace, looked coldly at +the speaker. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Anything's good enough, isn't it, for garden-parties?" said Mrs. +Fotheringham, with a little sneer. + +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'?" + +"You said it of a particular hero of mine," laughed Marsham. "I +naturally pitied Society." + +"What is Society? Where is it?" said Sir James Chide, contemptuously. "I +suppose Lady Palmerston knew." + +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. + +"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." + +"I am afraid we must agree that standards have been much relaxed," said +Lady Lucy. + +"Not at all--not at all!" cried Lady Niton. "There were black sheep +then; and there are black sheep now." + +Lady Lucy held her own. + +"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." + +"Ah, that was before the Americans and the Jews," said Sir James Chide. + +"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 +_character_.--Don't you agree with me?" + +"Other people's character?" asked Diana. + +"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 _wish_ to live quietly!" + +Diana gave a hesitating assent, adding: "But I'm sorry for Mr. Brenner!" + +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. + +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." + +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 _Times_. 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. + +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. + +"His neighbors and constituents!" thought Diana, in a young +astonishment. "The people who send him to Parliament!" + +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? + +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. + +Meanwhile, Sir James Chide, a few yards off, was apparently absorbed +partly in the _Times_, partly in the endeavor to make Lady Lucy's fox +terrier go through its tricks. + +Once Mr. Ferrier drew Diana's attention to her neighbor. + +"You know him?" + +"I never saw him before." + +"You know who he is?" + +"Ought I?--I am so sorry!" + +"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." + +"I?" said Diana, laughing and blushing. + +"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?" + +"Mind!--How could I be anything but grateful? It puzzles me so--this--" +she hesitated. + +"This English life?--especially the political life? Well!--let me be +your guide. I have been in it for a long while." + +Diana thanked him, and rose. + +"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." + +"These--pictures?" faltered Diana, looking round her, her tone changing. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When he returned to the hall, Sir James Chide, its sole occupant, was +walking up and down. + +"Who was that young lady?" said Sir James, turning abruptly. + +"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!" + +Mr. Ferrier's face expressed an amused recollection of some of Diana's +speeches. + +"Mallory?" said Sir James, under his breath--"_Mallory?_" He walked to +the window, and stood looking out, his hands in his pockets. + +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. + +"The look in the eyes!" he said to himself--"the mouth!--the voice!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _could_ +be done with it?" she said to herself, walking slowly up and down, and +glancing from side to side--"What _could_ be done with it?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Yes; Miss Vincent and three men came by the late train." + +"All Labor members?" asked Alicia, with a laugh. + +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 _great_ friend of mine--and a most remarkable man. +Oliver has been very lucky to get him." + +Alicia inquired whether he was likely to appear in dress clothes. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Didn't Oliver tell me she is a Socialist?" + +Mrs. Fotheringham believed it might be said. + +"How Miss Mallory will enjoy herself!" said Alicia, with a little laugh. + +"Have you been talking to Oliver about her?" Mrs. Fotheringham stared +rather hard at her cousin. + +"Of course. Oliver likes her." + +"Oliver likes a good many people." + +"Oh no, Cousin Isabel! Oliver likes very few people--very, very few," +said Miss Drake, decidedly, looking down into the fire. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Why? Politics? Oh! that doesn't matter a bit." + +"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." + +Miss Drake shrugged her shoulders. + +"He would convert her--and he likes triumphing. Oh! Cousin Isabel!--look +at that lamp!" + +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. + +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. + +"I never felt this house cold before. Has anything happened to your +_calorifère_? 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?" + +Oliver surveyed it. + +"Of course I should like nothing better than to make a bonfire of it +all! But mother--" + +"Of course--of course! Ah, well, perhaps when you marry, my dear boy! +Another reason for making haste!" + +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-- + +"I like your little friend, Oliver--I like her particularly!" + +"Miss Mallory? Yes, I saw you had been making acquaintance. Well?" + +His voice affected a light indifference, but hardly succeeded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Will you sit on my left? I must take in Lady Niton." + +Diana smiled and nodded. + +"And who is to be my fate?" + +"Mr. Edgar Frobisher. You will quarrel with him--and like him!" + +"One of the 'Socialists'?" + +"Ah--you must find out!" + +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. + +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. + +"Oh! a great friend of mine," he said, pleasantly. "Isn't she splendid? +Did you notice her evening dress?" + +"Is it an evening dress?" + +"It's _her_ 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." + +"She doesn't think it right to dress like other people?" + +"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." + +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. + +"How odd it all is!" she said, as though to herself. + +Her companion looked at her with amusement. + +"What is odd? The combination of this house--with Barton--and Miss +Vincent?" + +"Why do they consent to come here?" she asked, wondering. "I suppose +they despise the rich." + +"Not at all! The poor things--the rich--can't help themselves--just yet. +_We_ come here--because we mean to use the rich." + +"You!--you too?" + +"A Fabian--" he said, smiling. "Which means that I am not in such a +hurry as Barton." + +"To ruin your country? You would only murder her by degrees?"--flashed +Diana. + +"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." + +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." + +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?" + +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. + +"No escape for you!" smiled Mr. Frobisher, presently, observing the +position. "Lady Niton always devastates a dinner-party." + +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? + +"I am fortified--thank you. Shall we go back to where we left off? You +had just accused me of ruining the country?" + +"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?" + +"A good deal. But he thinks _he_ can use _us_--which is his mistake." + +"And Mr. Ferrier?" + +Mr. Frobisher shook his head good-humoredly. + +"No, no!--Ferrier is a Whig--the Whig of to-day, _bien entendu_, 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--" + +He paused, smiling. + +"It will shed him some day?" + +"It must!" + +"And where will Mr. Marsham be then?" + +"On the winning side--I think." + +The tone was innocent and careless; but the words offended her. + +She drew herself up a little. + +"He would never betray his friends!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Well!"--said Lady Niton, observing her--"so you have come to settle in +these parts?" + +Diana assented. + +"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." + +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?" + +"Immensely!" + +"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?" + +Diana, keeping a grip on laughter, said something civil. + +"Oh, Oliver's clever enough--and _ambitious!_" 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?" + +"He is very critical," said Diana, evasively. + +"Oh, Lord, much worse than that!" said Lady Niton, coolly. "He makes +himself very unpopular. You should tell him so." + +"That would be hardly my place." said Diana, flushing a little. + +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." + +Diana said vaguely that Mrs. Fotheringham had been very kind. + +"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 _society_ 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 _we_ know--and what do I care about his Socialist +stuff?--Well, now--Alicia"--her tone changed--"do you admire Alicia?" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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 _enfant terrible_ among dowagers till the +gentlemen came in. + +"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." + +Sir James, not without a sly smile, discharged arrow-like at the +retreating enemy, took the seat she had vacated. + +"This is your first visit to Tallyn, Miss Mallory?" + +The voice speaking was the _voix d'or_ 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. + +Sir James questioned her kindly, but discreetly. This was really her +first visit to Brookshire? + +"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. + +"Your parents took you abroad quite as a child?" + +"I went with my father. My mother died when I was quite small." + +Sir James did not speak for a moment. At last he said: + +"But before you went abroad, you lived in London?" + +"Yes--in Kensington Square." + +Sir James made a sudden movement which displaced a book on a little +table beside him. He stooped to pick it up. + +"And your father was tired of England?" + +Diana hesitated-- + +"I--I think he had gone through great trouble. He never got over mamma's +death." + +"Oh yes, I see," said Sir James, gently. Then, in another tone: + +"So you settled on that beautiful coast? I wonder if that was the winter +I first saw Italy?" + +He named the year. + +"Yes--that was the year," said Diana. "Had you never seen Italy before +that?" She looked at him in a little surprise. + +"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." + +"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." + +"And Oliver tells me you found a home at Portofino?" + +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 +_studied_, in a way which made her self-conscious, which perhaps she +might have resented in any man less polished and less courteous. + +"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." + +Diana's look changed a little. + +"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. + +Sir James bent forward. + +"May I come and see you some day at Beechcote?" + +Diana flushed with surprise and pleasure. + +"Oh! I should be so honored!" + +"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." + +He rose and walked away, just as Marsham brought up Mr. Barton to +introduce him to Diana. + +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. + +"Is it _possible_"--he said to himself--"that she knows nothing?--that +that man was able to keep it all from her?" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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." + +Diana's cheeks flamed. Did Mr. Barton mean to regret that no more +English lives had been lost? + +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-- + +On the contrary, said Diana, we could not afford to be stopped by +disaster. Disaster must be retrieved. + +Mr. Barton asked her--why? Were we never to admit that we were in the +wrong? + +The Viceroy and his advisers, she declared, were not likely to be wrong. +And prestige had to be maintained. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _see_ 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! + +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. + +Diana dismissed it with contempt, as the shaft of a _frondeur_ +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Brava! Brava!" cried Mr. Ferrier, clapping his hands. The room joined +in laughter and applause. + + * * * * * + +A few minutes later the ladies streamed out into the hall on their way +to bed. Marsham came to light a candle for Diana. + +"Do you forgive me?" he said, as he gave it to her. + +The tone was gay and apologetic. + +She laughed unsteadily, without reply. + +"When will you take your revenge?" + +She shook her head, touched his hand for "good-night," and went +up-stairs. + +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. + +"Will you--please--call me Diana? And--and--will you kiss me?" + +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. + +"Oh, I want papa!" she said--"I want him so much!" + +And she hid her eyes against the mantel-piece. + +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. + +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? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +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--_at home!_ Take my advice, Miss Mallory--don't go." + +"I'm not staying over Sunday," smiled Diana. + +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?" + +"Rude? When?" + +"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?" + +"I made acquaintance with him and Lady Lucy on the Riviera." + +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. + + * * * * * + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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, _Se soumettre, ou se démettre!_--well, it +may come to that--for old Ferrier. But I'll back him to fight his +way through." + +"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!" + +Forbes looked rather amused at her womanish view of things. "Friends? I +should rather think so!" + +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. + +"Do you see that?" + +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. + +"Rather touching, isn't it?" said the youth, smiling benevolently. "Of +course you know--there's a romance, or rather _was_--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. + +"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!" + +Diana warmly agreed. + +"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. _Isn't_ that a woman! Ah! you don't know her yet. +Hullo!--there's Marsham after me." + +For Marsham was beckoning from the hall. They returned hurriedly. + +"Who made Oliver that waistcoat?" said Lady Niton, putting on her +spectacles. + +"I did," said Alicia Drake, as she came up, with her arm round the +younger of Lady Niton's nieces. "Isn't it becoming?" + +"Hum!" said Lady Niton, in a gruff tone, "young ladies can always find +new ways of wasting their time." + +Marsham approached Diana. + +"We're just off," he said, smiling. "The clouds are lifting. You'll +come?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Yet a careful ear might have detected something a little hollow in the +tone. + +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. + +As the shooters departed, Forbes bringing up the rear, Lady Niton laid +her wrinkled hand on his arm. + +"Never mind, Bobbie, never mind!"--she smiled at him confidentially. "We +can't all be six foot." + +Bobbie stared at her--first fiercely--then exploded with laughter, shook +off her hand and departed. + +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!" + +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. + +"Alicia is very picturesque," said Mrs. Fotheringham, turning away. + +"Yes--and last summer Oliver seemed to be well aware of it," said Lady +Niton, in her ear. + +"Was he? He has always been very good friends with Alicia." + +"He could have done without the waistcoat," said Lady Niton, sharply. + +"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." + +"One can't help making remarks about Alicia," said Lady Niton, calmly, +"and she can defend herself so well." + +"Poor Alicia!" + +"Confess you wouldn't like Oliver to marry her." + +"Oliver never had any thought of it." + +Lady Niton shook her queer gray head. + +"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." + +"Baffled!" Mrs. Fotheringham laughed. "What can she do?" + +"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?" + +Mrs. Fotheringham hesitated, then said, coldly: + +"I don't like discussing these things. Oliver has plenty of time before +him." + +"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?" + +Mrs. Fotheringham laughed impatiently. "Really, Lady Niton, I made no +objection." + +"You don't like her!" + +"I have only known her twenty-four hours. How can I have formed any +opinion about her?" + +"No--you don't like her! I suppose you thought she talked stuff last +night?" + +"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." + +Lady Niton glanced at the thin fanatical face of the speaker. + +"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--" + +"I shouldn't dream of arguing with such a child!" + +"Well, all I know is Ferrier seemed to admire her performance." + +Mrs. Fotheringham paused a moment, then said, with harsh intensity: + +"Men have not the same sense of responsibility." + +"You mean their brains are befogged by a pretty face?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Suddenly Diana, who had just opened a hitherto unread letter, exclaimed: + +"Oh, but _how_ delightful!" + +Mrs. Colwood looked up; Diana's aspect was one of sparkling pleasure and +surprise. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Mrs. Colwood inquired if it was long since she had had news of her +cousins. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +She held out the sheet. + +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. + +"But then, you see, we'll _give_ 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?" + +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 _tête-à-tête_ with her new charge was to be so soon +interrupted, and for an indefinite period, by a young lady with the +handwriting of a scullery-maid, she kept it entirely hidden. + +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. + +Then she took up the letter again. It ran thus: + + "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, + +"And I am + Your affectionate cousin + FANNY MERTON." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"I have found a cousin!" she said, gayly, and told the story of her +expected visitor. + +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. + +"The young lady's mother is your aunt?" + +"She was my mother's sister." + +"And they have been long in Barbadoes?" + +"I think they migrated there just about the same time we went +abroad--after my mother's death." + +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. + +"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!" + +He stooped his gray head, and gently touched her hand with an old man's +freedom. + +Diana warmly renewed her invitation. + +"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!" + +He walked away from her. + +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. + +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 _modistes_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +"I fear luncheon is impossible!" said Lady Lucy's voice. + +Diana looked up and saw her descending the stairs. + +"Such a pity! Oliver will be so disappointed." + +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. + +Her emphatic reference to Marsham had brought the ready color to Diana's +cheeks. + +"Yes--there seems no chance!--" she said, shyly, and regretfully, as the +rain beat on the window. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Well!--what are you thinking about her?" he said, eagerly, turning to +the mistress of the house. + +Lady Lucy smiled. + +"I should prefer it if she didn't talk politics," she said, with the +slightest possible stiffness, "But she seems a very charming girl." + +"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?" + +The Quaker in Lady Lucy laughed. + +"Of course if she married Oliver, she would subordinate her opinions to +his." + +"Would she!" said Mr. Ferrier--"I'm not so sure!" + +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. + +"I have asked various people about the Mallorys," she resumed. "But +nobody seems to be able to tell me anything." + +"I trace her to Sir Thomas of that ilk. Why not? It is a Welsh name!" + +"I have no idea who her mother was," said Lady Lucy, musing. "Her father +was very refined--_quite_ a gentleman." + +"She bears, I think, very respectable witness to her mother," laughed +Ferrier. "Good stock on both sides; she carries it in her face." + +"That's all I ask," said Lady Lucy, quietly. + +"But that you _do_ 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." + +Lady Lucy colored faintly. + +"That has nothing to do with politics." + +"Hasn't it? I can't imagine anything that has more to do with them." + +"I was thinking of character--honorable tradition--not blood." + +Ferrier shook his head. + +"Won't do. Barton wouldn't pass you--'A man's a man for a' that'--and a +woman too." + +"Then I am a Tory!" said Lady Lucy, with a smile that shot pleasantly +through her gray eyes. + +"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 _his_ been worth living? + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +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. + +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 _relation_ 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. + +"I believe you are not pining for the Mediterranean!" he said, laughing, +as they walked on together. + +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. + +"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." + +"Your compensation--perhaps." + +"Mrs. Colwood puts it that way. Only I don't like having my grievance +taken away." + +"Against whom?" + +"Ah! not against papa!" she said, hurriedly--"against Fate!" + +"If you dislike being deprived of a grievance--so do I. You have +returned me my Rossetti." + +She laughed merrily. + +"You made sure I should lose or keep it?" + +"It is the first book that anybody has returned to me for years. I was +quite resigned." + +"To a damaging estimate of my character? Thank you very much!" + +"I wonder"--he said, in another tone--"what sort of estimate you have +of _my_ character--false, or true?" + +"Well, there have been a great many surprises!" said Diana, raising her +eyebrows. + +"In the matter of my character?" + +"Not altogether." + +"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?" + +"I hear"--she said, deliberately looking about her--"that this is the +finest shoot in the county." + +"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!" + +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. + +She laughed at his confession. + +"I hear also that you are the best shot in the neighborhood." + +"Who has been talking to you about me?" he asked, with a slight knitting +of the brows. + +"Mr. Ferrier--a little." + +He gave an impatient sigh, so disproportionate to the tone of their +conversation, that Diana looked at him in sudden surprise. + +"Haven't you often wondered how it is that the very people who know you +best know you least?" + +The question was impetuously delivered. Diana recalled Mr. Forbes's +remarks as to dissensions behind the scenes. She stepped cautiously. + +"I thought Mr. Ferrier knew everything!" + +"I wish he knew something about his party--and the House of Commons!" +cried Marsham, as though a passion within leaped to the surface. + +The startled eyes beside him beguiled him further. + +"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." + +Diana's color flashed. + +"I would rather be in that old world with Mr. Ferrier than in the new +with Mr. Barton!" + +"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." + +"No!--the point is--to hold the gate!--and die on the threshold, if need +be." + +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. + +"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!" + +Diana declared that the Socialists would ride it to the abyss--with +England on the crupper. + +"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." + +"And if he won't?--" + +"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. + +"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. + +Then with a change of manner, and in a lighter tone: "I seem to have +given myself away--to an enemy!" + +"Poor enemy!" + +[Illustration: "The man's pulses leaped anew".] + +He looked at her, half laughing, half anxious. + +"Tell me!--last night--you thought me intolerant--overbearing?" + +"I disliked being beaten," said Diana, candidly; "especially as it was +only my ignorance that was beaten--not my cause." + +"Shall we begin again?" + +Through his gayety, however, a male satisfaction in victory pierced very +plainly. Diana winced a little. + +"No, no! I must go back to Captain Roughsedge first and get some new +arguments!" + +"Roughsedge!" he said, in surprise. "Roughsedge? He never carried an +argument through in his life!" + +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. + +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: + +"Do you know that you have had a jolly good revenge--pressed down and +running over?" + +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. + +"You have convicted me of an odious, exclusive, bullying temper--or you +think you have--and all you will allow _me_ in the way of victory is +that I got the best of it because Captain Roughsedge wasn't there!" + +"Not at all. I respect your critical faculty!" + +"You wish to hear me gush like Mrs. Minchin. It is simply astounding the +number of people you like!" + +Diana's laugh broke into a sigh. + +"Perhaps it's like a hungry boy in a goody-shop. He wants to eat them +all." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"One moment!" he said, as they began to cross the lawn. "Has my sister +attacked you yet?" + +The smile with which the words were spoken could be heard though not +seen. Diana laughed, a little awkwardly. + +"I am afraid Mrs. Fotheringham thinks me a child of blood and thunder! I +am so sorry!" + +"If she presses you too hard, call me in. Isabel and I understand each +other." + +Diana murmured something polite. + +Mr. Frobisher meanwhile came to meet them with a remark upon the beauty +of the evening, and Alicia Drake followed. + +"I expect you found it a horrid long way," she said to Diana. Diana +disclaimed fatigue. + +"You came _so_ slowly, we thought you must be tired." + +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. + +"Won't you take my arm?" he said, in a low voice. + +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. + +Diana followed, her girl's heart kindling. + +"Surely!--surely!--they are in love?--engaged?" + +But no one else appeared to take any notice or made any remark. + +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 _not_ 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. + +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. + +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 _ingenue's_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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." + +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. + +"Things mustn't be hurried, mother." + +"No--no--they sha'n't. But you know how I have wished to see you +happy--how ambitious I have been for you!" + +"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. + +"What a charming creature, Oliver! It is a pity, of course, her father +has indoctrinated her with those opinions, but--" + +"Opinions!" he said, scornfully--"what do they matter!" But he could not +discuss Diana. His blood was still too hot within him. + +"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." + +He made no reply, except to repeat: + +"Don't hurry it, mother--don't hurry it." + +"No--no"--she said, laughing--"I am not such a fool. There will be many +natural opportunities of meeting." + +"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." + +"Good!" said Lady Lucy, delighted that the Vavasours had been +disagreeable. "Good-night, my son, good-night!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Ought I to speak?" he asked himself, in an agony of doubt. "Perhaps a +word to Ferrier?--" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Do let me help you!" she said, shyly. + +Marion Vincent smiled, and put her hand in the girl's arm. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +At last, as she watched her, Marion Vincent looked up. + +"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." + +Diana asked if Mr. Barton had himself gone through a great struggle with +poverty. + +"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. + +"Who wouldn't have?" cried Diana. "What outrageous things he said!" + +"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." + +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. + +"It so chanced"--Miss Vincent resumed--"that it had a bearing on +experiences of my own--just now." + +"You are living in the East End?" + +"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." + +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. + +Diana sprang up. + +"Let me get you some water!" + +"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. + +"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. + +"Shall I tell you the story he told me? It is very short, and it might +change your view of him." + +"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. + +"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, _his_ 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 _imagined_ +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." + +Marion Vincent paused. + +"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." + +"And you mean also"--said Diana, slowly--"that a man with that history +can't know or care very much about the Empire?" + +"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." + +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. + +Suddenly Diana bent over her, and took her hands. + +"I wonder why you thought me worth talking to like this?" she said, +impetuously. + +"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. _Your_ set--the popular one--is called _The Glories of +England_. There is another--I recommend it to you: _The Shames of +England_." + +"You think poverty a disgrace?" murmured Diana, held by the glowing +fanatical look of the speaker. + +"_Our_ 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?" + +"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." + +Miss Vincent surveyed her gayly. + +"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." + +"Not in pulling down wealth--and property!" cried Diana. + +"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. + +"You were happy to-night?--you enjoyed the dance?" + +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. + +"Yes. It was delightful. I did not expect to enjoy it so much, but--" + +"But you did! That's well. That's good!" + +Marion Vincent rose feebly. And as she stood, leaning on the chair, she +touched the folds of Diana's white dress. + +"When shall I see you again?--and that dress?" + +"I shall be in London in May," said Diana, eagerly--May I come then? You +must tell me where." + +"Ah, you won't come to Bethnal Green in that dress. What a pity!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +"Henry," said Mrs. Roughsedge to her husband, "I think it would do you +good to walk to Beechcote." + +"No, my dear, no! I have many proofs to get through before dinner. Take +Hugh. Only--" + +Dr. Roughsedge, smiling, held up a beckoning finger. His wife +approached. + +"Don't let him fall in love with that young woman. It's no good." + +"Well, she must marry somebody, Henry." + +"Big fishes mate with big fishes--minnows with minnows." + +"Don't run down your own son, sir. Who, pray, is too good for him?" + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"I wonder how Miss Mallory liked Tallyn," said Mrs. Roughsedge, briskly. + +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. + +"The Miss Bertrams have already made up their minds that she is to marry +Oliver Marsham." + +"The deuce!" cried the startled Roughsedge. "Beg your pardon, mother, +but how can those old cats possibly know?" + +"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." + +"They mumble any fresh person, like a dog with a bone," said Roughsedge, +indignantly. + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +At the sight of Mrs. Roughsedge he drew up, and greeted the mother and +son. + +"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?" + +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. + +Mrs. Roughsedge, a little fluttered, asked for information. + +"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." + +"Are they improper?" cried Mrs. Roughsedge, much distressed. Captain +Roughsedge threw an angry look first at his mother and then at +the Vicar. + +"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_ shall therefore resign--protesting, of +course, against the reason which induces me to take this course." + +"What's wrong with the books?" asked Hugh Roughsedge. + +The Vicar drew himself up. + +"I have given my reasons." + +"Why, you see that kind of thing in every newspaper," said Roughsedge, +bluntly. + +"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." + +He paused, and offered a limp hand in good-bye. + +"Let me speak to Miss Mallory," said Mrs. Roughsedge, soothingly. + +The Vicar shook his head. + +"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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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--_he_ made no complaint about the books. Oh, now the +Miss Bertrams are going to stop us! They'll of course know all +about it!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. "_We_ should _never_ order books that would be offensive to +Miss Mallory." + +"But if you haven't read the books?" + +"The Vicar's word is quite enough," said Miss Maria, with her most +determined air. + +They all moved on together, Captain Roughsedge smoothing or tugging at +his mustache with a restless hand. + +But Miss Bertram, presently, dropping a little behind, drew Mrs. +Roughsedge with her. + +"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." + +"Dear, dear!" murmured Mrs. Roughsedge. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +She came toward her visitors with alacrity. "Oh! what a long time since +you have been to see me!" + +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. _They_ were to keep up the gardens, you +know--and now they practically leave it to me--which isn't fair." + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Mrs. Roughsedge admitted it. + +"I did lose my temper," said Diana, repentantly. "But _really!_--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!" + +"Oh no, my dear, no!" cried Mrs. Roughsedge, disturbed by the quotation, +even, of such a remark. Hugh Roughsedge grinned. Diana, +however, insisted. + +"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!" + +"I hope, Miss Mallory, you won't think of giving them up," said Hugh, +with vigor. "It will be an excellent thing for Lavery." + +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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"What can I do? If I could only be sure that he would never say things +like that to me again--" + +"But he will!" said Captain Roughsedge. "Don't give in, Miss Mallory." + +"Ah!" said Mrs. Roughsedge, as the door opened, "shall we ask Mr. +Marsham?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What must I do?" she said, sheepishly, to Mrs. Roughsedge. "Write to +him?" + +"The Vicar? Oh, dear Miss Mallory, the doctor will settle it. You +_would_-change the books?" + +"Mother!" cried Hugh Roughsedge, indignantly, "we're all bullied--you +know we are--and now you want Miss Mallory bullied too." + +"'Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow,'" laughed Marsham, +in the background, as he stood toying with his tea beside Mrs. Colwood. + +Diana shook her head. + +"I can't be friends with him," she said, naively, "for a long long time. +But I'll rewrite my list. And _must_ I go and call on the Miss Bertrams +to-morrow?" + +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. + +Diana looked round rather wistfully for Mrs. Colwood as she re-entered +the room; but that lady had many letters to write. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"They will be much more interesting to me," said Marsham, in a low +steady voice, "than anything I shall be doing in Parliament." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I saw her last week," said Marsham. "She always asks after you." + +"I am so glad! I fell in love with her. Surely"--Diana +hesitated--"surely--some day--she will marry Mr. Frobisher?" + +Marsham shook his head. + +"I think she feels herself too frail." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"My cousin will be here directly!" she said, joyously. + +"Shall I find her installed when I come next time?" + +"I mean to keep her as long--as long--as ever I can!" + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +"Fanny!" + +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 _that_ 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. + +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 +_mésalliance_--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. + +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 +_provenance_ 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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Well, you _have_ 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. + +"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?" + +The girl made a little face. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Oh, well, you've got some good families about, I guess. I saw one or +two awfully smart carriages waiting at the station." + +"There are a good many nice people," murmured Diana. "But there is not +much going on." + +"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?" + +"I like old things so much," laughed Diana. "Don't you?" + +"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." + +Diana admitted it, and changed the subject. "Had the journey been cold?" + +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. + +"He lives near here. I told him I was sure you'd ask him to something, +if he called." + +"Who was he?" + +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. + +She said nothing, however, and plunged into inquiries as to her aunt and +cousins. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Goodness! but you are like Aunt Sparling!" + +Diana flushed crimson. She drew back and said, hurriedly, to Mrs. +Colwood: + +"Muriel, would you see if they have taken the luggage up-stairs?" + +Mrs. Colwood went at once. + +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. + +"Do you really think I am like mamma?" she said, tremulously, all her +eyes fixed upon her cousin. + +"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." + +"I never saw any picture of mamma," said Diana; "I don't know at all +what she was like." + +"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. + +"Shall I take you to your room?" she said. "You must be tired, and we +shall be dining directly." + +Miss Merton allowed herself to be led up-stairs, looking curiously round +her at every step. + +"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!" + +"Papa left me all his money," said Diana, coloring again. "I hope he +wouldn't have thought it extravagant." + +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. + + + + +Part II + + "_The soberest saints are more stiff-neckèd + Than the hottest-headed of the wicked._" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"I shall soon be back," said Diana--"very soon. I'll just take this book +to Dr. Roughsedge. You don't mind?" + +The question was addressed--in a deprecatory tone--to Mrs. Colwood, who +stood beside her at the Beechcote front door. + +Muriel Colwood smiled, and drew the furs closer round the girl's slim +throat. + +"I shall mind very much if you don't stay out a full hour and get a good +walk." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +Fanny Merton hesitated, looked at Mrs. Colwood a moment dubiously, and +finally walked up to her. + +"Oh, I don't care about going out, it's so cold and nasty. And, besides, +I--I want to talk to you." + +"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." + +"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!'" + +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. + +"I am very happy here," said Mrs. Colwood, quietly. "Miss Mallory is so +charming and so kind." + +Miss Fanny cleared her throat, poked the fire with the tip of her shoe, +fidgeted with her dress, and finally said--abruptly: + +"I say--have all the people about here called?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +She was moving away when the girl beside her laughed again--rather +angrily--and Mrs. Colwood paused, touched again by instinctive fear. + +"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 +_money!_--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 _us_, not to speak, when we all want money so bad--and +there are the boys to bring up--and--" + +"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!--" + +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. + +"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--_shamefully_! 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 _ought_ to make it up to us! If nobody +else'll ask her, I will!'" + +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? + +She retraced a few steps. + +"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 _more_ than +their due. She is _too_ 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." + +Fanny Merton was silent for a minute--staring at her companion. Then she +said, abruptly: + +"Does she ever talk to you about Aunt Sparling?" + +"Her mother?" + +The girl nodded. + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Anything sad?--anything _sad_? Well, upon my word!--" + +The girl breathed fast. So, involuntarily, did Mrs. Colwood. + +"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?" + +She laid her hand upon Muriel's dress. + +"Why should I know? Please, Miss Merton!" and with a resolute movement +Mrs. Colwood tried to withdraw her dress. + +"Why, _everybody_ 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_ +was--and of course I didn't tell. And there was a book in the ship's +library--_Famous Trials_--or some name of that sort--with the whole +thing in it. You don't know--about--Diana's _mother_?" + +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?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +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." + +"Airing?" said Diana, mystified. + +"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." + +Diana colored and laughed. + +"Ay," said the old woman, laughing too, with the merriment of a girl. +"Sweethearts is noa good--but you mun ha' a sweetheart!" + +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. + +Diana walked quickly through the woods, the prey of one of those vague +storms of feeling which test and stretch the soul of youth. + +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. + +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!" + +And eagerly the child's heart answered: "Yes, yes, papa!--dear papa!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Why had her father been so unhappy? What was the meaning of that cloud +under which she had grown up? + +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. + +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. + +Her mother! + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +So, in spirit, she knelt again beside her dead, embracing their cold +feet and asking pardon. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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 _convenable_? 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? + +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: + +"Not a bit! There wasn't a scrap of likeness between mother and Aunt +Sparling." + + * * * * * + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I had no idea what a poison poverty could be!" said Muriel, abruptly, +with her gaze on the fire. + +"My cousin?" Diana looked up startled. "Was that what she was saying to +you?" + +Muriel nodded assent. Her look--so anxious and tender--held, enveloped +her companion. + +"Are they in debt?" said Diana, slowly. + +"Terribly. They seem to be going to break up their home." + +"Did she tell you all about it?" + +Mrs. Colwood hesitated. + +"A great deal more than I wanted to know!" she said, at last, as though +the words broke from her. + +Diana thought a little. + +"I wonder--whether that was--what she came home for?" + +Mrs. Colwood moved uneasily. + +"I suppose if you are in those straits you don't really think of +anything else--though you may wish to." + +"Did she tell you how much they want?" said Diana, quickly. + +"She named a thousand pounds!" + +Muriel might have been describing her own embarrassments, so scarlet had +she become. + +"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?" + +She threw her arms round Mrs. Colwood's knees impetuously. + +Muriel's small hand smoothed back the girl's hair, timidly yet eagerly. + +"I suppose that's the way they've been brought up." + +"A thousand pounds! And does she expect me to provide it?" + +"I am afraid--she hopes it." + +"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." + +Mrs. Colwood colored deeper than ever. But apparently she could think of +nothing to say. Her eyes were riveted on her companion. + +"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?" + +She looked up expecting sympathy--perhaps a little indignation. Mrs. +Colwood only said: + +"I suppose she would not have come over--if things had not been _very_ +bad." + +"Why didn't she give me some warning?" cried Diana--"instead of talking +about French lessons! But am I bound--do _you_ 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 _right_!" + +She frowned. Her voice was a little stern. Her eyes flashed. + +Mrs. Colwood again touched her hair with a hand that trembled. + +"They are your only relations, aren't they?" she said, pleadingly. + +"Yes," said Diana, still with the same roused look. + +"Perhaps it would set them on their feet altogether." + +The girl gave a puzzled laugh. + +"Did she--Muriel, did she ask you to tell me?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"--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. + +"Of course," said Mrs. Colwood, faintly. Then she raised herself. "Let +me tell her so--let me save you the conversation." + +"You dear!--but why should you!" said Diana, in amazement. + +"Let me." + +"If you like! But I can't have Fanny making you look like this. Please, +please go to bed." + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"I thought I'd perhaps better let you know--I'm--well, I'm going to have +a talk with Diana this morning!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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 _him_ 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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Diana remained nervously standing before the picture, awaiting her +cousin, her eyes wider than usual, one hand at her throat. + +"Look here," said Fanny, approaching her, "I want to talk to you." + +Diana braced herself. "All right." She threw a look at the clock. "Just +give me time to get tidy before lunch." + +"Oh, there's an hour--time enough!" + +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. + +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. + +Fanny cleared her throat. + +"Well, of course, Mrs. Colwood's told me all you've been saying to her. +And I don't say I'm surprised." + +Diana opened her large eyes. + +"Surprised at what?" + +"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." + +"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. + +At Diana's question, Fanny's eyes flickered a moment. + +"Oh, well, I had lots of things in my mind. But it was the money that +mattered most." + +"I see," murmured Diana. + +Fanny fidgeted a little with one of the three bead necklaces which +adorned her. Then she broke out: + +"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--" + +Diana made a sudden movement. Fanny looked at her astonished, expecting +her to speak. Diana, however, said nothing, and the girl resumed: + +"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 _that_ 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." + +"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." + +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--" + +"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. + +"Well, I'm not going to say!" said Fanny, with vehemence. "But I can +tell you, mother _has_ a claim!--and Uncle Mallory _ought_ to have left +us something!" + +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. + +"Fanny, please!--you must tell me why!" + +The tone, resolute, yet appealing, put Fanny in an evident +embarrassment. + +"Well, I can't," she said, after a moment--"so it's no good asking me." +Then suddenly, she hesitated--"or--at least--" + +"At least what? Please go on." + +Fanny wriggled again, then said, with a burst: + +"Well, my mother was Aunt Sparling's younger sister--you know +that--don't you?--" + +"Of course." + +"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!" + +"What other things? I don't understand." + +"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." + +"_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." + +Fanny Merton grew still redder; she stared aggressively at her cousin: + +"Well--that was because--Aunt Sparling sold all the things!" + +Diana started and recoiled. + +"You mean," she said--her breath fluttering--"that--mamma sold things +she had no right to--and never gave Aunt Bertha the money!" + +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. + +"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 +_rivière_" (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." + +She opened a beaded bag on her wrist, took out half a sheet of paper, +and handed it to Diana. + +Diana looked at it in silence. Even her lips were white, and her fingers +shook. + +"Did you ever send this to papa?" she asked, after a minute. + +Fanny fidgeted again. + +"Yes." + +"And what did he say? Have you got his letter?" + +"No; I haven't got his letter." + +"Did he admit that--that mamma had done this?" + +Fanny hesitated: but her intelligence, which was of a simple kind, did +not suggest to her an ingenious line of reply. + +"Well, I dare say he didn't. But that doesn't make any difference." + +"Was that what he and Uncle Merton quarrelled about?" + +Fanny hesitated again; then broke out: "Father only did what he +ought--he asked for what was owed mother!" + +"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--" + +[Illustration: "YOU NEEDN'T BE CROSS WITH ME, DIANA"] + +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! + +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. + +She walked up to her cousin. + +"Fanny, is there any letter--anything of grandpapa's--or of my +mother's--that you could show me?" + +"No! It was a promise, I tell you--there was no writing. But my mother +could swear to it." + +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. + +Fanny drew a long breath. She had not expected the surrender. Her eyes +sparkled, and she began to stammer thanks. + +"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!" + +She had risen, and was standing, very tall and rigid, her hands pressing +against each other. + +Fanny's face clouded. + +"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!" + +Diana said nothing. She went to the writing-table and began to arrange +some letters. Fanny looked at her. + +"I say, Diana!--perhaps you won't want me to stay here after--You seem +to have taken against me." + +Diana turned. + +"No," she said, faintly. Then, with a little sob: "I thought of nothing +but your coming." + +Fanny flushed. + +"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 _do_ think you've been rather nasty about!" + +The girl threw back her head defiantly. + +Diana's pale face questioned her. + +"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 _word_ to me about +it--let alone ask me to go with you!" + +Diana looked at her amazed. + +"You mean--I'm going to Tallyn!" + +"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--" + +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. + +"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!" + +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: + +"I'm _very_ 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." + +"I don't want any amusing--thanks!" said Fanny, walking to the door. + +She closed it behind her. Diana clasped her hands overhead in a gesture +of amazement. + +"To quarrel with me about that--after--the other thing!" + +No!--not Tallyn!--not Tallyn!--anywhere, anything, but that! + +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. + + * * * * * + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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!" + +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! + +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 _naïveté_, "I've talked to him till I'm tired." + +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. + +"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?" + +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!" + +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. + +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, _ipso facto_, 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. + +"You read, sir, a great deal?" he said to the doctor, with a +professional change of voice. + +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. + +"A great deal, Mr. Birch." + +"Everything, in fact?" + +"Everything--except, of course, what is indispensable." + +Mr. Birch looked puzzled. + +"I heard of you from the Duchess, doctor. She says you are one of the +most learned men in England." + +"The Duchess?" The doctor screwed up his eyes and looked round the +table. + +Mr. Birch, with complacency, named the wife of a neighboring potentate +who owned half the county. + +"Don't know her," said the doctor--"don't know her; and--excuse the +barbarity--don't wish to know her." + +"Oh, but so charming!" cried Mr. Birch--"and so kind!" + +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." + +"Poodles!" said Fanny, in astonishment. "Why are duchesses like +poodles?" + +The doctor bowed to her. + +"I give it up, Miss Merton. Ask Sydney Smith." + +Fanny was mystified, and the sulky look appeared. + +"Well, I know I should like to be a duchess. Why shouldn't one want to +be a duchess?" + +"Why not indeed?" said the doctor, helping himself to another oyster. +"That's why they exist." + +"I suppose you're teasing," said Fanny, rather crossly. + +"I am quite incapable of it," protested the doctor. "Shall we not all +agree that duchesses exist for the envy and jealousy of mankind?" + +"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! + + * * * * * + +Luncheon was half-way through when a rattling sound of horses' hoofs +outside drew the attention of the table. + +"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." + +Diana herself looked in some alarm round the table. + +"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." + +Diana wondered who the visitors might be. The butler entered. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +"Lady Lucy Marsham's cousin; and it is generally supposed that she might +by now have been something else but for--" + +He nodded toward the chair at the head of the table which Diana had left +vacant. + +"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. + +"I'm telling tales, I declare I am!" said Mr. Birch. "Haven't you seen +Mr. Oliver Marsham yet, Miss Merton?" + +"No. I don't know anything about him." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Birch, smiling, and peeling an apple with deliberation. + +Fanny flushed. + +"Is there anything up--between him and Diana?" she said in his ear. + +Mr. Birch smiled again. + +"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." + +"I haven't seen either him or Lady Lucy--is that her name?--since I +came." + +"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." + +"And what about Miss Drake?" + +"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." + +"And Miss Drake was there too?" + +Mr. Birch nodded. + +"And Diana cut her out?" said Fanny, bending toward him eagerly. + +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: + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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 _parti_ 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. + +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! +_She_ 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. + +Diana--_Diana_!--the daughter-- + +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. + +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. + +Sir James Chide! + +Memories of the common gossip in her home, of the talk of the people on +the steamer, of pages in that volume of _Famous Trials_ she had studied +on the voyage with such a close and unsavory curiosity danced through +the girl's consciousness. Well, _he_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"You are not coming?" said Hugh Roughsedge to Diana. + +At this question he saw a delicate flush, beyond her control, creep over +her cheek and throat. + +"I--I am expecting Mr. Marsham," she said. "Perhaps I ought to stay." + +Sir James Chide looked at his watch. + +"He should be here any minute. We will overtake you, Captain +Roughsedge." + +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. + +Meanwhile, Sir James lingered with Diana. "A charming old place!" he +said, looking about him. "But Marsham tells me the Vavasours have +been odious." + +"We have got the better of them! Mr. Marsham helped me." + +"He has an excellent head, has Oliver. This year he will have special +need of it. It will be a critical time for him." + +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. + +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? + +"I'll go and finish my cigarette out-of-doors. Such a tempting +afternoon!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +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. + +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. + +"Sir James explained?" he said, as he took her hand. + +"Yes. I had no notion you would be here--this week-end." + +"Nor had I--till last night. Then an appointment broken down--and--_me +voici_!" + +"You stay over to-morrow?" + +"Of course! But it is absurd that the Feltons should be five miles +away!" + +She stammered: + +"It is a charming ride." + +"But too long!--One does not want to lose time." + +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! + +"You have your cousin with you?" + +"Yes." + +"She will make you a long visit?" + +"Another week or two, I think." + +"You are a believer in family traditions?--But of course you are!" + +"Why 'of course'?" Her color had sparkled again, but the laugh was not +spontaneous. + +"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." + +"All the same--you ask their help!" + +"Oh yes, in war; pure self-interest on both sides." + +"You have been preaching this in the House of Commons?" + +The teasing had answered. No more veiling of the eyes! + +"No--I have made no speeches. Next week, in the Vote of Censure debate, +I shall get my chance." + +"To talk Little Englandism? Alack!" + +The tone was soft--it ended in a sigh. + +"Does it really trouble you?" + +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. + +"I believe it does," he said, gently, still smiling. "Well, when I make +my speech, I shall remember that." + +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. + +"Shall we go into the garden? I ought to speak to Robins. How is he +getting on?" + +Robins was the new head gardener, appointed on Marsham's recommendation. + +"Excellently." Diana had also risen. "I will get my hat." + +He opened the door for her. Hang those people outside! But for them she +would have been already in his arms. + +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! + +He moved to the window, and looked out. + +_Birch_!--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? + +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. + +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. + +"Miss Mallory wants to show me a new gardener." + +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. + +"You know Mr. Birch," said Diana to her companion, as they descended to +the lower terrace, and passed not very far from that gentleman. + +"I just know him," said Marsham, carelessly, and bestowed a nod in the +direction of the solicitor. + +"Had he not something to do with your election?" said Diana, astonished. + +"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?" + +He looked at her smiling. Diana colored. + +"My cousin Fanny made acquaintance with him--in the train." + +"I see. Here are our two cousins--coming to meet us. Will you introduce +me?" + +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. + +"Fanny, I want to introduce Mr. Marsham to you." + +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. + +"Could you order my horse, Oliver? I think we ought to be going back." + +"Would you mind asking Sir James?" Marsham pointed to the upper terrace. +"I have something to see to in the garden." + +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. + +"You'll come back with us, won't you?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He paused on the other side of the gate. + +"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." + +She tried to laugh. + +"You take Robins for granted?" + +"I am quite indifferent to his virtues--even his vices! This chance--is +too precious. I have so much to say to you." + +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. + +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. + +"Here is the sunset," said Marsham, looking round him. "Are you afraid +to sit a little?" + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Marsham dropped down beside her. + +"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!--" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"I'm not worthy!" she said, in a whisper--"I'm not worthy!" + +"Foolish Diana!--Darling, foolish Diana!--Give me my answer!" + +And now he held both hands, and his confident smile dazzled her. + +"I--" Her voice broke. She tried again, still in a whisper. "I will be +everything to you--that a woman can." + +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. + +"I know!"--he said, tenderly--"I know! Dear, I think he would have been +glad. He and I made friends from the first." + +She plucked at the heather beside her, trying for composure. "He would +have been so glad of a son--so glad--" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +As to Lady Lucy, he smilingly declared that she had no doubt guessed +something was in the wind. + +"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!" + +"I shall love her--dearly," murmured Diana. + +"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." + +"I'm afraid Mrs. Fotheringham won't like it," said Diana, ruefully, +letting herself be gathered again into his arms. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +"I say!--don't take that line with Isabel!" + +"Well, mine probably aren't worth much--but they are mine--and papa +taught them me--and I can't give them up." + +"What'll you do, darling?--canvass against me?" He kissed her hand +again. + +"No--but I _can't_ agree with you!" + +"Of course you can't. Which of us, _I_ wonder, will shake the other? How +do you know that I'm not in a blue fright for my principles?" + +"You'll explain to me?--you'll not despise me?" she said, softly, +bending toward him; "I'll always, always try and understand." + +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. + +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. + +"Oh! your cousin--and Sir James!" cried Diana, in distress, "and I +haven't said good-bye--" + +"You will see them soon again. And I shall carry them the news +to-night." + +"Will you? Shall I allow it?" + +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. + +But at the mention of Sir James Chide, her face lit up. + +"He has been so kind to me!" she said, looking up into Marsham's +face--"so very kind!" + +Her eyes showed a touch of passion; the passion that some natures can +throw into gratitude; whether for little or much. Marsham smiled. + +"He fell in love with you! Yes--he is a dear old boy. One can well +imagine that he has had a romance!" + +"Has he?" + +"It is always said that he was in love with a woman whom he defended on +a charge of murder." + +Diana exclaimed. + +"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." + +Diana breathlessly asked for the rest of the story. + +"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." + +Diana pondered; her eyes dim. + +"How one would like to do something for him!--to give him pleasure!" + +Marsham caressed her hand. + +"So you shall, darling. He shall be one of our best friends. But he +mustn't make Ferrier jealous." + +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. + +"I shall love all your friends," she said, with a bright look. "I'm glad +you have so many!" + +"Does that mean that you've felt rather lonely sometimes? Poor darling!" +he said, tenderly, "it must have been solitary often at Portofino." + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + + * * * * * + +"Why must we go home?" he said, discontentedly, as he released her. "One +turn more!--up the avenue! There is light enough yet!" + +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. + +"Well, as I want you to marry me in six weeks," said Marsham, joyously, +"I suppose they will." + +"Six weeks!" She gasped. "Oh, how unreasonable!" + +"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." + +Diana sighed. + +"My only cousins are the Mertons. They are all in Barbadoes but Fanny." + +Her tone changed a little. In her thoughts, she added, hurriedly: "I +sha'n't have any bridesmaids!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Marsham gave a little start. + +"Dear--how surprising!--and how interesting! Tell me all you can--from +the year One." + +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. + +"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." + +"Sparling!" A pause. "And have you any Sparling relations." + +"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." + +Her voice shook a little. + +"You have never looked at them?" + +"Never." + +"But why, dearest?" + +"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." + +He put his arm round her, close and tenderly. + +"What makes you think that?" Then he whispered to her--"Tell your +lover--your husband--tell him everything." + +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: + +"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!--" + +"Strange? She was ill?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"And you have no idea what led him to go abroad?" + +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. + +"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--" + +She dwelt on the long days of dumbness, and her constant sense that he +wished--in vain--to communicate something to her. + +"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--" + +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. + +"We must try and unravel it--together," he said, at last, with an +effort. "Can you tell me your mother's name?" + +"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. + +"Diana!--Did I hurt your hand? my darling!" + +The sudden tightness of his grip had crushed her fingers. She smiled at +him, as he kissed them, in hasty remorse. + +"And her Christian name?" he asked, in a low voice. + +"Juliet." + +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. + +Diana stopped suddenly. + +"If there were something terrible to know!"--she said, +trembling--"something which would make you ashamed of me!--" + +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. + + * * * * * + +"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. + +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. + +Then he rode away, waving his hand through the darkness. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Only one definite purpose gathered strength--to throw himself on the +counsel of Sir James Chide. Chide had known--from the beginning! + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +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. + +No means of escaping it, or the gossip with regard to himself, which +must, he knew, be raging among the guests! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Where was Sir James Chide? + +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. + +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. + +He sprang up. + +"Is that you, Oliver?" + +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. + +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. + +"You know?" he said, under his breath. + +Marsham nodded. + +"And you--have known it all along?" + +"From the first moment, almost, that I set eyes on that poor child. Does +_she_ know? Have you broken it to her?" + +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. + +"You have proposed to her?" + +"Yes." + +"And she has accepted you?" + +"Yes." Marsham walked to the mantel-piece, and hung over the fire. + +Sir James watched him for a moment, twisting his mouth. Then he walked +up to his companion and laid a hand on his arm. + +"Stick it out, Oliver!" he said, breathing quick. "Stick it out! You'll +have to fight--but she's worth it." + +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: + +"You know your mother will resist it to the last?" + +By this, Marsham had collected his forces, and as he turned to the +lamplight, Sir James saw a countenance that reassured him. + +"I have no hope of persuading her. It will have to be faced." + +"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." + +"You and Ferrier must do all you can for me," said Marsham, slowly. + +"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?" + +Marsham paused a moment; then looked up. + +"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." + +"You might have to give up Parliament?" + +"I should very likely have to give up Parliament." + +Sir James ruminated, and took up his half-smoked cigar for counsel. + +"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." + +"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." + +His tone had become a little dry and bitter, his aspect gray. + +Sir James surveyed him a moment--pondering. + +"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." + +A tremor swept across Marsham's handsome mouth. But the perplexity and +depression in the face remained. + +Sir James had a slight consciousness of rebuff. But it disappeared in +his own emotion. He resumed: + +"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." + +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. + +"Diana mentioned her father's solicitors--" + +"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 _must_ +have made provision--for the occasion that has now arisen." + +"A letter?--for Diana?" + +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." + +Marsham flushed. + +"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." + +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. + +Sir James looked down upon him. Instead of sympathy, there was a +positive lightening in the elder man's face--a gleam of satisfaction. + +"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!" + +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? + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Diana was to tell Mrs. Colwood--her companion; no one else." + +"Nice little woman!--all right there! But"--Sir James gave a slight +start--"what about the cousin?" + +"Miss Merton? Oh no! There is clearly no sympathy between her and Diana. +How could there be?" + +"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?" + +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? + +"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." + +Marsham reluctantly admitted it. + +"My sister, too, will be hostile. Don't let's forget that." + +Sir James shrugged his shoulders, with the smile of one who is +determined to keep his spirits up. + +"Well, my dear Marsham, you have your battle cut out for you! Don't +delay it. Where is Lady Lucy?" + +"In town." + +"Can't you devise some excuse that will take you back to her early +to-morrow morning?" + +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. + +"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 _contretemps_--anything!--I'll help you through. And +if you see your mother in the morning, I will turn up in the afternoon." + +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. + +Marsham suddenly broke out: + +"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 _could_ awaken her pity!--if you +could give me the wherewithal--" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +She started at sight of him, and under the bright electric light of the +passage he saw her redden. + +"Well, Oliver!--you stayed a good while." + +"Not so very long. I have been home nearly an hour. I hope the horses +went well!" + +"Excellently. Do you know where Sir James is?" + +It seemed to him the question was significantly asked. He gave it a cold +answer. + +"Not at this moment. He was in the smoking-room a little while ago." + +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." + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, Diana herself was wrestling with her own fate. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"Muriel!" + +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. + +"Is that you? I thought you were still out." + +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. + +"Muriel, dear!--what is it?" + +Mrs. Colwood found her voice, and her composure. + +"Nothing! I was foolish--it doesn't matter." + +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. + +But Muriel drew herself away. She looked searchingly, with recovered +self-command, into Diana's face. + +"Has Mr. Marsham gone?" + +"Yes," said Diana, looking at her. + +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. + +"Is it all right?" + +The peculiar eagerness in the tone struck Diana. She returned the kiss, +a little wistfully. + +"Were you so anxious about me? Wasn't it--rather plain?" + +Mrs. Colwood laughed. + +"Sit down there, and tell me all about it." + +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. + +"Is he going to see Lady Lucy to-morrow?" she asked, when Diana paused. + +"Yes. He goes up by the first train." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At last a clock struck down-stairs, and a door opened. Diana sprang up. + +"Time to dress! And I've left Fanny alone all this while!" + +She hurried toward the door; then turned back. + +"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?" + +"Very much, I should say." + +"She made friends with Miss Drake?" + +"They were inseparable, till Miss Drake departed." + +Diana laughed. + +"How odd! That I should never have prophesied. And Mr. Birch? I needn't +have him to lunch again, need I?" + +"Miss Merton invited him to tea--on Saturday." + +Diana reddened. + +"Must I--!" she said, impetuously; then stopped herself, and opened the +door. + +Outside, Fanny Merton was just mounting the stairs, a candle in her +hand. She stopped in astonishment at the sight of Diana. + +"Diana! where have you been all this time?" + +"Only talking to Muriel. We heard you playing; so we thought you weren't +dull," said Diana, rather penitently. + +"I was only playing till you came in," was the sharp reply. "When did +Mr. Marsham go?" + +Diana by this time was crossing the landing to the door of her room, +with Fanny behind her. + +"Oh, quite an hour ago. Hadn't we better dress? Dinner will be ready +directly." + +Fanny took no notice. She entered her cousin's room, in Diana's wake. + +"Well?" she said, interrogatively. She leaned her back against the +wardrobe, and folded her arms. + +Diana turned. She met Fanny's black eyes, sparkling with excitement. + +"I'll give you my news at dinner," said Diana, flushing against her +will. "And I want to know how you liked Miss Drake." + +Fanny's eyes shot fire. + +"That's all very fine! That means, of course, that you're not going to +tell me anything!" + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"What do you know?" she said. "Tell me at once--what you mean." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Where are you going?" she said, trying to hold her back. + +Diana looked at her. In the girl's eyes there was a sudden and tragic +indignation. + +"Do you all know?" she said, under her breath--"all--all of you?" And +again she began to mount, with a resolute step. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You go to her!" She stooped, panting, over the balusters, addressing +Mrs. Colwood. "She won't let me touch her." + +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. + +Her voice dropped. She moistened her dry lips, and began once more: "My +mother--" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oliver told you to expect me?" + +She assented. Then, still standing, she looked at him steadily. + +"This is a very terrible affair, Sir James." + +"Yes. It must have been a great shock to you." + +"Oh! that does not matter," she said, impatiently. "I must not think of +myself. I must think of Oliver. Will you sit down?" + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Sir James started. + +"Good Heavens, Lady Lucy! Can you--do you--suppose anything else?" + +Lady Lucy paused before replying. + +"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." + +Sir James nodded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Sir James paused. + +"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." + +Lady Lucy made no reply. Her hand--without any movement of withdrawal +or rebuff--gently dropped from his. + +"You have been, I think, much attracted by Miss Mallory herself?" + +"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." + +"Is it your feeling that to marry her would injure Oliver's career?" + +"Certainly. But that is not what weighs with me most heavily." + +"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." + +Lady Lucy moved impatiently. + +"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." + +"You think of the criminal taint?--the risk to Oliver--and to Oliver's +children?" + +She made a sign of assent. + +"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?" + +"Wait a moment!" exclaimed Sir James, holding up his hand. "Those +adjectives, believe me, are unjust." + +"I know that you think so," was the animated reply. "But I remember the +case; I have my own opinion." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"No!" said Sir James, holding up his hand again--"_No!"_ + +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. + +"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." + +"Certainly, I am not impartial," said Sir James, looking up. "You know +that, of course, well enough." + +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. + +"Believe me," she said, with dignity, and not without kindness, "it is +not I who would revive such memories." + +Sir James nodded quietly. + +"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?" + +"He told me certain facts," said Lady Lucy, unwillingly; "but I did not +see that they made much difference." + +"Perhaps he did not give them the right emphasis," said Sir James, +calmly. "Will you allow _me_ to tell you the whole story?--as it +appears to me." + +Lady Lucy looked distressed. + +"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." + +Sir James flushed, and sternly straightened himself. It was a well-known +gesture, and ominous to many a prisoner in the dock. + +"Worth while!" he said. "Worth while!--when your son's future may depend +on the judgment you form." + +The sharpness of his tone called the red also to Lady Lucy's cheek. + +"Can anything that may be said now alter the irrevocable?" she asked, in +protest. + +"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 _ought_ to listen to me! There, I can meet +you--there, I have much to say." + +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 _not_ indifferent to the social stigma--she deceives herself!" +But he made no sign of his perception; he held her to her word. + +She paused, in evident hesitation, saying at last, with some coldness: + +"If you wish it, Sir James, of course I am quite ready to listen. I +desire to do nothing harshly." + +"I will not keep you long." + +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. + +"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." + +"What a terrible--terrible--position!" murmured Lady Lucy, who was +shading her eyes with her hand. + +Sir James took no notice. His trained mind and sense were now wholly +concerned with the presentation of his story. + +"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. + +"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--" + +"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?" + +"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!" + +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. + +"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' _ménage_. 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--" + +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. + +"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. + +"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 _her_ 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. + +"The _dénouement_, 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 _décolletée_; 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." + +Sir James ceased speaking. A heavy silence possessed the room. + +Sir James walked quickly up to his companion. + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +He turned to Lady Lucy. + +"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?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +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-- + +"Well?" + +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. + +"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." + +Sir James pushed his chair back. + +"I did it, of course, for a special reason," he said, sharply. "I hope I +have given you cause to change your mind." + +She shook her head slowly. + +"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?" + +He looked at her in amazement. + +"No difference!--between murder and a kind of accident?--between +adultery and fidelity?" + +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!" + +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!" + +But he fought on. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Supposing Oliver entirely declines to take your view?--supposing he +marries Miss Mallory?" + +"He will not break my heart," she said, drawing a quicker breath. "He +will get over it." + +"But if he persists?" + +"He must take the consequences. I cannot aid and abet him." + +"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?" + +"I feel for her most sincerely." + +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: + +"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!" + +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. + +He rose slowly from his chair. + +"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--" + +"Oliver will not live upon his wife!" + +"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!" + +His tone, his manner pierced Lady Lucy's pride. She threw back her head +nervously, but her tone was calm: + +"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!" + +"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." + +Lady Lucy made no reply, but her expression was eloquent of a patience +which her old friend might abuse if he would. + +"Does Ferrier know? Have you consulted him?" asked Sir James, turning +abruptly. + +"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." + +As she spoke the hall-door bell was heard. + +"That is probably he." She looked at her companion uncertainly. "Don't +go, Sir James--unless you are really in a hurry." + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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." + +There was a short pause--broken by Marsham, who was sitting a little +apart from the others, restlessly fingering a paper-knife. + +"If you could persuade my mother to take a kind and reasonable view," he +said, abruptly; "that is really the only way out." + +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. + +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. + +"Most interesting--most interesting," murmured Ferrier, as the story +came to an end. "A tragic and memorable case." + +He pondered a little, his eyes on the carpet, while the others waited. +Then he turned to Lady Lucy and took her hand. + +"Dear lady!" he said, gently, "I think--you ought to give way!" + +Lady Lucy's face quivered a little. She decidedly withdrew her hand. + +"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." + +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. + +"Miss Mallory is still ignorant, Oliver--is that so?" he said, at last. + +"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--" + +"I propose to go down to Beechcote to-morrow," put in Sir James. + +"Have you any idea what view Miss Mallory would be likely to take of the +matter--as affecting her engagement?" + +"She could have no view that was not unselfish and noble--like herself," +said Marsham, hotly. "What has that to do with it?" [Illustration: +"'DEAR LADY,' HE SAID, GENTLY, 'I THINK YOU OUGHT TO GIVE WAY!'"] + +"She might release you," was Ferrier's slow reply. + +Marsham flushed. + +"And you think I should be such a hound as to let her!" + +Sir James only just prevented himself from throwing a triumphant look at +his hostess. + +"You will, of course, inform her of your mother's opposition?" said +Ferrier. + +"It will be impossible to keep it from her." + +"Poor child!" murmured Ferrier--"poor child!" + +Then he looked at Lady Lucy. + +"May I take Oliver into the inner room a little while?" he asked, +pointing to a farther drawing-room. + +"By all means. I shall be here when you return." + +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. + +"Try and think of the girl!" he said, in a low voice; "_the girl_--in +her first youth." + +"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." + +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! + +But he would go down to Beechcote, and he and Oliver between them would +see that child through. + + * * * * * + +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." + +Marsham assented, but despondently. + +"You know my mother; time will make no difference." + +"I'm not so sure--I'm not so sure," said Ferrier, cheerfully. "Did your +mother say anything about--finances?" + +Marsham gave a gloomy smile. + +"I shall be a pauper, of course--that was made quite plain to me." + +"No, no!--that must be prevented!" said Ferrier, with energy. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"A letter for you, Oliver." + +He took it, and turned it over. The handwriting was unknown to him. + +"Who brought this?" he asked of the butler standing behind his mother. + +"A servant, sir, from Beechcote Manor, He was told to wait for an +answer." + +"I will send one. Come when I ring." + +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. + +Lady Lucy pointedly made no inquiry. But Ferrier spoke. + +"No bad news, I hope?" + +Marsham turned. + +"She has been told?" he said, hoarsely, "Mrs. Colwood, her companion, +speaks of 'shock.' I must go down at once." + +Lady Lucy said nothing. She, too, had grown white. + +The butler appeared. Marsham asked for the Sunday trains, ordered some +packing, went down-stairs to speak to the Beechcote messenger, +and returned. + +Ferrier retired into the farthest window, and Marsham approached his +mother. + +"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?" + +Lady Lucy looked at him steadily. + +"I shall write myself to Miss Mallory, Oliver." + +His pallor gave place to a flush of indignation. + +"Is it necessary to do anything so cruel, mother?" + +"I shall not write cruelly." + +He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. + +"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." + +"In your new love, Oliver, have you quite forgotten the old?" Lady +Lucy's voice shook for the first time. + +"I shall be only too glad to remember it, when you give me the +opportunity," he said, sombrely. + +"I have not been a bad mother to you, Oliver. I have claims upon you." + +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? + +"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." + +"I will give her your message. Good-bye, Oliver." He left the room, with +a gesture of farewell to Ferrier. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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 _Christian Year_--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. + +So he stayed by her, and she knew very well that he would stay by her to +the end. + +He sat down beside her and took her hand. + +"You are tired." + +"It has been a miserable day." + +"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." + +"It will be difficult to attend." Her smile was faint and sad. "But I +will do my best." + +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?" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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 _never_ 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." + +"Oliver, at present, is very determined," said Lady Lucy, in a tone of +depression. + +"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." + +"We shall make him, I fear, very angry." + +"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. + +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!" + +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. + +"Oh, of course he proposed on the hill," replied Alicia, thoughtfully. +"And you say, Aunt Lucy, that _he_ guessed--and she knew nothing? +Yes!--I was certain he guessed." + +"But she knows now," said Lady Lucy; "and, of course, we must all be +very sorry for her." + +"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." + +"I should advise her not to go about with that cousin," said Alicia, +softly. + +"The girl who told you?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"My dear," said her mother, gravely, "we must not reckon upon Oliver's +yielding to our persuasions." + +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 _beaux yeux_ of Diana Mallory! Oliver, who had never faced any +hardship or gone without any luxury in his life! + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"If you come after breakfast you will find Miss Mallory alone. I will +tell her first thing that you are here." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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! + +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. + + * * * * * + +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 _saw_ 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +"Mrs. Colwood said I might come and say good-bye to you," said Fanny +Merton, holding her head high. + +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. + +"Please come in," said Diana. + +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. + +Fanny came in, half closing the door. + +"Well, I'm off," she said, flushing. "I dare say you won't want to see +_me_ again." + +Diana came feebly forward, clinging to the chairs. + +"It wasn't your fault. I must have known--some time." + +Fanny looked at her uneasily. + +"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." + +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. + +"You are going to London?" + +"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." + +"My lawyers will send the thousand pounds to Aunt Merton when they have +arranged for it," said Diana, quietly. "Is that what you wish?" + +A look of relief she could not conceal slipped into Fanny's countenance. + +"You're going to give it us--after all?" she said, stumbling over the +words. + +"I promised to give it you." + +Fanny fidgeted, but even her perceptions told her that further thanks +would be out of place. + +"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." + +"Very well," said Diana. + +"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." + +"Good-bye." Diana held out her hand; yet trembling involuntarily as she +did so. Fanny broke out: + +"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." + +"No, I can't do anything," said Diana, withdrawing her right hand from +her cousin, and clasping both on her breast. "I can only--" + +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." + +"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." + +Diana said nothing. She was hanging over the fire, and her face was +hidden. Fanny waited a moment, then opened the door and went. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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. + +"Did she leave you her address?" + +"Yes. Don't think any more about her. I have something to tell you." + +Diana's painful start was the measure of her state. Muriel Colwood put +her arms tenderly round the slight form. + +"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." + +Diana sat down, as though her limbs trembled under her. + +"Did you send for him?" + +"Yes. You forgive me?" + +"Then--he hasn't got my letter." + +She said it without looking up, as though to herself. + +Mrs. Colwood knelt down beside her. + +"It is right he should be here," she said, with energy, almost with +command; "it is the right, natural thing." + +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. + +"He does know, dear--he does know." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Oliver!" + +He held out his hands. + +"My poor, poor darling!" + +She gave a little cry, as though some tension broke. Her lips almost +smiled; but she held him away from her. + +"You're not--not ashamed of me?" + +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. + +"Will you please sit down and let us talk?" she said, after a moment, +withdrawing herself. + +She pushed a chair forward, and sat down herself. The tears were in her +eyes, but she brushed them away unconsciously. + +"If papa had told me!" she said, in a low voice--"if he had only told +me--before he died." + +"It was out of love," said Marsham; "but yes--it would have been +wiser--kinder--to have spoken." + +She started. + +"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." + +"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." + +He thought she winced at the word "forget." + +"When did you first guess--or know?" + +He hesitated--then thought it best to tell the truth. + +"When we were in the lime-walk." + +"When you asked--her name? I remember"--her voice broke--"how you wrung +my hand! And you never had any suspicion before?" + +"Never. And it makes no difference, Diana--to you and me--none. I want +you to understand that now--at once." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"After all, I know so little yet," she said, bewildered. "Only--only +what Fanny told me." + +"What made her tell you?" + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Her face relaxed, her mouth trembled violently. + +"Oh, Oliver!--Oliver!" She was unable to bear the relief his words +brought her: she broke down under it. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At last he made an effort, hiding the nascent impatience in a caress. + +"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!" + +She looked up with a sudden start. + +"My mother," he said, reluctantly, "may give us trouble." + +The color rushed into Diana's cheeks, and ebbed with equal suddenness. + +"Lady Lucy! Oh!--how could I forget? Oliver!--she thinks--I am not fit!" + +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. + +"Dearest! you know my mother's bringing up: her Quaker training, and her +rather stern ideas. We shall persuade her--in time." + +"In time? And now--she--she forbids it?" + +Her voice faltered. And yet, unconsciously, she had drawn herself a +little together and away. + +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. + +"Does _he_ think it would do you harm--that you ought to give me up?" + +"Not he! And if anybody can make my mother hear reason, it will be +Ferrier." + +"Lady Lucy believes it would injure you in Parliament?" faltered Diana. + +"No, I don't believe she does. No sane person could." + +"Then it's because--of the disgrace? Oliver!--perhaps--you ought to give +me up?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, if you hadn't come!--if you hadn't come!" Her tears fell on the +hand. + +"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." + +"If I had known," she murmured, on his breast, "I should have slept." + +He went--in exaltation; overwhelmed by her charm even in this eclipse of +grief, and by the perception of her passion. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + "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? + + "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? + + "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. + + "Believe me, dear Miss Mallory, very sincerely yours, + + "LUCY MARSHAM." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +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. + +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?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Mr. Ferrier, after a pause. + +"Then he ought to be! What on earth is he shilly-shallying for? In my +days young men had proper blood in their veins." + +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. + +Only Alicia Drake was in the drawing-room when she was announced. + +"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?" + +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. + +Alicia replied that it had been, indeed, unusually difficult of late to +persuade Lady Lucy to eat. + +"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?" + +"I am afraid she has." + +"Is Oliver engaged?" asked Lady Niton, suddenly, observing the young +lady. + +Alicia replied demurely that that question had perhaps better be +addressed to Lady Lucy. + +"What's the matter? Can't the young people make up their minds? Do they +want Lucy to make them up for them?" + +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--" + +"Juliet Sparling!" cried Lady Niton, her queer small eyes starting in +their sockets. "My dear, you must be mad!" + +Alicia smiled, though gravely. She was afraid Lady Niton would find that +what she said was true. + +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: + +"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?" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +Lady Lucy took it patiently, though from no other person in the world +save Elizabeth Niton would she have so taken it. + +"I thought, Elizabeth, you would have tried to understand me." + +Elizabeth Niton shook her head. + +"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!" + +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. + +"I don't know what you mean by that remark. Alicia has behaved with +great kindness and tact!" + +"I dare say! We're all darlings when we get our way. What does Ferrier +say?" + +Lady Lucy hesitated. + +"If my old friends cannot see it as I do--if they blame me--I am very +sorry. But it is my responsibility." + +"A precious good thing, my dear, for everybody else! But as far as I can +make out, they _are_ engaged?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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 +_party_, and his party have a right to count upon him. He has no right +to jeopardize either his opinions or his money; _we_ have a claim +on both." + +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. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, in the House of Commons, Isabel Fotheringham's arguments was +being put in other forms. + +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. + +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. + +"Though, of course, I know, as far as that is concerned, we might as +well be married to-morrow and have done with it!" + +"Ah!--but it is due to her--to your mother." + +"I suppose it is. But the whole situation is grotesque. I must look out +for some way of making money. Any suggestions thankfully received!" + +Marsham spoke with an irritable flippancy. Ferrier's hazel eyes, set and +almost lost in spreading cheeks, dwelt upon him thoughtfully. + +"All right; I will think of some. You explained the position to Miss +Mallory?" + +"No," said Marsham, shortly. "How could I?" + +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." + +Marsham shrugged his thin shoulders. + +"Of course. And all for nothing. Hullo, Fleming!--do you want me?" + +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. + +"Don't let me interrupt," he said to Marsham. "But can I have a word +presently?" + +"Now, if you like." + +"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. + +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. + +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! + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +It was not till he reached his own room, in his mother's hushed and +darkened house, that he opened Diana's letter. + +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. + + "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, + _whatever_ 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. + + "I have no claim--none--against what is best for you. Just + two words, Oliver!--and I think they _ought_ to be + 'Good-bye.' + + "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. + + "Your grateful DIANA." + +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 _all_ 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. + +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. + +His letter ran as follows: + + "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. + + "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. + + "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? + + "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. + + "Your most loving OLIVER." + +As he wrote it Marsham had been uncomfortably conscious of another self +beside him--mocking, or critical. + +"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. + +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! + +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. + + * * * * * + +At mid-day, in her Brookshire village, Diana received the letter--with +another from London, in a handwriting she did not know. + +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-- + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +She sprang up. For the first time since the blow had fallen, vigor had +returned to her movements and life to her eyes. + +"Ah, no!" she said to herself, panting a little. "_No!_" + +A letter fell to the ground--the letter in the unknown handwriting. Some +premonition made her open it and prepared her for the signature. + + "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. + + "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. + + "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? + + "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 _do_ matter to his party and + his cause. + + "They matter especially--at the present moment--to _our_ + party and _our_ cause. We are the poor party, and our rich + men are few and far between. + + "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. + + "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 _me_--these are what I + live for. + + "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. + + "I fear I shall seem to you a voice crying in the wilderness; + but I write in Oliver's interest--and your own. + + "Yours sincerely, + + "ISABEL FOTHERINGHAM. + + "P.S. Our secretary, Mrs. Derrick Smith, at the Mary + Wollstonecraft Club, will always be glad to send you any + literature you might require." + +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. + +Very soon she went back to her desk and began to write. + + "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. + + "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. + + "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. + + "I would not injure your career for the world. I hope that + all good will come to you--always. + + "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. + + "DIANA." + +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? + +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? + + * * * * * + +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. + +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: + +"Perhaps you have all expected me to be engaged to Mr. Marsham. He did +propose to me--but--I have refused him." + +She faltered a little as she told her first falsehood, but she told it. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +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: + +"May Hugh come and say good-bye?" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"I may write to you from Nigeria?" + +Rather shyly, she assented; adding, with a smile: + +"But I am a bad letter-writer!" + +"You are an angel!" he said, hoarsely, lifted her hand, kissed it, and +rushed away. + +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. + +"Mr. Lavery wishes to know, miss, if you will see him." + +The Vicar! Diana's heart sank. Must she? But some deep instinct--some +yearning--interfered, and she bade him be admitted. + +Then she stood waiting, dreading some onslaught on the secrets of her +mind and heart--some presumption in the name of religion. + +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. + +"May I come in? I will only keep you a few minutes." + +She came forward and gave him her hand. The door shut behind him. + +"Won't you sit down?" + +"I think not. You must be very busy. I only came to say a few words. +Miss Mallory!" + +He still held her hand. Diana trembled, and looked up. + +"--I fear you may have thought me harsh. _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?" + +The tears rushed back to Diana's eyes; she looked at him silently. + +"'Blessed are they that mourn,'" he said, gently, with a tender dignity, +"'for they shall be comforted!'" + +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. + +"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." + +"I know," she said, brokenly. "It is agony, but it is sacred." + +His eyes grew dim. She withdrew her hand, and they talked a little about +her journey. + +"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." + +"Oh yes, I shall come back. Unless--I have some friends in London--East +London. Perhaps I might work there." + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +Then her weariness told him that he had said enough, and he went. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + + "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 + + "MOTHER." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + + "Where lies the land to which the ship must go? + Far, far ahead is all the seamen know!" + + + +Part III + + "_Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, + How can it? O how can Love's eye be true + That is so vexed with watching and with tears?_" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +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. + +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.e._, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +Marsham looked up. + +"Well, it isn't for want of pressure. Ferrier's life hasn't been worth +living this last month." + +The tone was ambiguous. It fitted either with defence or indictment. + +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!" + +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. + +"He'll _have_ 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." + +The remarks were McEwart's. Lankester turned a sarcastic eye upon him. + +"Don't you be unjust, my boy. Ferrier's one of the smartest +Parliamentary hands England has ever turned out" + +At this Barton roused. + +"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 _straight!_--as +the party wants him to run." + +"All right. _Ad leones!_ Ferrier to the Lords. I'm agreeable. Only I +don't know what Marsham will say to it." + +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. + +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. + +"Ferrier has not the smallest intention of going to the Lords!" he said, +at last--not without a touch of impatience. + +"That's the party's affair." + +"The party owes him a deal too much to insist upon anything against his +will." + +"Does it!--_does_ 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." + +McEwart flushed. + +"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." + +"Broadstone will never throw him over." Lankester threw another glance +at Marsham. "You'll only waste your breath." + +Lord Broadstone was the veteran leader of the party, who in the event of +victory at the polls would undoubtedly be Prime Minister. + +"He can take Foreign Affairs, and go to the Lords in a blaze of glory," +said McEwart. "But he's _impossible!_--as leader in the Commons. The +party wants grit--not dialectic." + +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. + +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. + +_She_ 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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + * * * * * + +He reached Eaton Square in good time for dinner, and found his mother in +the drawing-room. + +"You look tired, Oliver," she said, as he kissed her. + +"It's the east wind, I suppose--beastly day!" + +Lady Lucy surveyed him, as he stood, moody and physically chilled, with +his back to the fire. + +"Was the debate interesting?" + +"Ferrier made a very disappointing speech. All our fellows are getting +restive." + +Lady Lucy looked astonished. + +"Surely they ought to trust his judgment! He has done so splendidly for +the party." + +Marsham shook his head. + +"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." + +Lady Lucy started. + +"Oliver!" she said, indignantly, "you know it would break his heart!" + +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. + +"They would give him Foreign Affairs, of course," said Marsham, after a +pause. + +"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." + +Marsham shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +Lady Lucy looked at him with sparkling eyes. + +"You can't desert him, Oliver!--not you!" + +"Perhaps I'd better drop out of Parliament!" he said, impatiently. "The +game sometimes doesn't seem worth the candle." + +Lady Lucy--alarmed--laid a hand on his. + +"Don't say those things, Oliver. You know you have never done so well as +this year." + +"Yes--up to two months ago." + +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. + +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! + +He roused himself with an effort. His mother was putting up her +knitting, which, indeed, she had only pretended to work at. + +"We must go and dress, Oliver. Oh! I forgot to tell you--Alicia arrived +an hour ago." + +"Ah!" He raised his eyebrows indifferently. "I hope she's well?" + +"Brilliantly well--and as handsome as ever." + +"Any love-affairs?" + +"Several, apparently--but nothing suitable," said Lady Lucy, with a +smile, as she rose and gathered together her possessions. + +"It's time, I think, that Alicia made up her mind. She has been out a +good while." + +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. + +As he opened the door for Lady Lucy to leave the room, he noticed her +gray and fragile look. + +"I believe you have had enough of London, mother. You ought to be +getting abroad." + +"I am all right," said Lady Lucy, hastily. "Like you, I hate east winds. +Oliver, I have had a charming letter from Mr. Heath." + +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. + +Oliver looked down rather moodily upon her. + +"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!" + +Lady Lucy flushed. + +"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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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. + +"Nothing--nothing, at least, worth anybody's remembering." + +"You spoke at Dunscombe last week." + +"I did." + +"And you went to help Mr. Collins at the Sheffield bye-election." + +"I did. I am very much flattered that you know so much about my +movements." + +"I always know everything that you are doing," said Alicia, +quietly--"you, and Cousin Lucy." + +"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!" + +"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. + +"Charming for the Curate! Did he propose to you?" + +"Certainly. I think we were engaged for twenty-four hours." + +"That you might see what it was like? _Et après?_" + +"He was afraid he had mistaken my character" + +Marsham laughed out. + +"Poor victim! May I ask what you did it for?" + +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! + +"What I did it for? He was so nice and good-looking!" + +"And there was nobody else?" + +"Nobody. Home was a desert." + +"H'm!" said Marsham. "Is he broken-hearted?" + +Alicia shrugged her shoulders a little. + +"I don't think so. I write him such charming letters. It is all +simmering down beautifully." + +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. + +She meanwhile watched him with her teasing eyes, apparently enjoying his +disapproval. + +"I know exactly what you are thinking," she said, presently. + +"I doubt it." + +"Heartless coquette!" she said, mimicking his voice. "Never mind--her +turn will come presently!" + +"You don't allow my thoughts much originality." + +"Why should I? Confess!--you did think that?" + +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. + +"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." + +Alicia reddened a little. It was one of her attractions that she flushed +so easily. + +"Because you know me too well?" she repeated. "Let me see. That means +that you don't believe my turn will ever come?" + +Marsham smiled. + +"Your turn for what?" he said, dryly. + +"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!" + +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. + + * * * * * + +"Do you go back to the House, Oliver, to-night?" asked his mother, as +the entree went round. + +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. + +[Illustration: "ALICIA UPRIGHT IN HER CORNER--OLIVER, DEEP IN HIS +ARMCHAIR"] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +He sprang to his feet. + +"Heavens!" He looked at the clock, irresolute. "Well, there's nothing +much on, mother. I don't think I need." + +And he subsided again into his chair beside Alicia. + +Miss Falloden looked at Lady Lucy with a meaning smile. + +"I didn't know they were such friends!" she said, under her breath. + +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. + +Lady Niton's sarcasms recurred to her. She was not sure whether she +welcomed or disliked the idea. But, after all, why not? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"Ecco, Signorina! il Convento!" + +The driver reined up his horse, pointing with his whip. + +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. + +The travellers gazed their fill, and the carriage clattered on. + +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. + +"We shall be happy here, sha'n't we?" said Diana, stealing a hand into +her companion's. "And we needn't hurry away." + +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. + + * * * * * + +The travellers climbed the hill as the sun sank behind the mountains, +made for the Subasio Hotel, found letters, and ordered rooms. + +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." + +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. + +After unpacking, there still remained half an hour before dark. They +hurried out for a first look at the double church. + +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. + +"Where _are_ 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!" + +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! + +"We seem to be all alone here--with St. Francis!" said Diana, softly, as +they descended to the street--"or is everybody at church?" + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Yet only dying, perhaps, as the tongue of Cicero died--to give birth to +the new languages of Europe. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +"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. + +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. + +"Couldn't we escape to the Upper Church?" asked Chide of Diana. + +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! + +Their footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness of the Upper Church. +Apparently they had it to themselves. + +"No friars!" said Forbes, looking about him. "That's a blessing, anyway! +You can't deny, Miss Mallory, that _they_'re a blot on the landscape. Or +have you been flattering them up, as all the other ladies do who +come here?" + +"We have only just arrived. What's wrong with the friars?" smiled Diana. + +"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--_four of 'em_--in one _legno_--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 _legno_, pretty quick, I'll bet you!" + +Diana surveyed the typical young Englishman indulging a typically +Protestant mood. + +"I thought there were only a few old men left," she said, "and that it +was all very sad and poetic?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Come here, Bobbie, you reprobate!" cried Chide from a distance. "Hold +your tongue, and bring me the guide-book." + +Bobbie strolled off, laughing. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Six hundred years hence what modern will be as much alive as St. +Francis is now?" Diana wondered, as they strolled on. + +He turned a quiet gaze upon her. + +"Darwin? At least I throw it out." + +"Darwin!" Her voice showed doubt--the natural demur of her young +ignorance and idealism. + +"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." + +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. + +"Hullo!" said Bobbie Forbes, turning back toward them, "I thought there +was no one else here." + +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. + +"Who?" said Chide, rejoining the other two. + +"Frobisher--and Miss Vincent," said Forbes, studying the new-comers. + +"Miss Vincent!" Chide's voice showed his astonishment. "I thought she +had been very ill." + +"So she has," said Ferrier--"very ill. It is amazing to see her here." + +"And Frobisher?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"You are at the Subasio?" The speaker turned to Diana. "So am I. I don't +dine--but shall we meet afterward?" + +"And Mr. Frobisher?" said Diana, timidly. + +"He is staying at the Leone. But I told him to come back." + +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. + +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. + +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 _succès +fou_--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 _Times_. 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. + +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. + +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 _kudos_, 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, _sub rosa_, +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"He won't join it!" said Diana, sharply. + +"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." + +"Get in!" It was a cry of astonishment--passing on into constraint. "I +thought Mr. Marsham's seat was absolutely safe." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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 _Times_, +of Wing's dying statement. + +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. + +"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. + +"He knows he must have done the same in our place," said Sir James. + +After a minute he looked at her closely under the electric light which +dominated the terrace. + +"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" + +She looked up with her quick smile. + +"I don't always think of it--and oh! I am so thankful to _know_! I dream +of them often--my father and mother--but not unhappily. They are +_mine_--much, much more than they ever were." + +She clasped her hands, and he felt rather than saw the exaltation, the +tender fire in her look. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Waits for what?" said Ferrier, under his breath, forgetting his +audience a moment. "The death of Catholicism?" + +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. + +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: + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +But presently, when the group had broken up and Ferrier was once more +strolling beside Diana, he said to her: + +"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 _bourgeoisie_ in Europe. Happy the men of 1860! They had some +illusions left--religion, monarchy, country. We too have men who _would +give themselves_--if they could. But to what? No one wants them any +more--_nessuno li vuole piu_!' Well, there are the two. Which will +you believe?" + +"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. + + * * * * * + +"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." + +She drew Diana toward her, kissed her, and smiled at her. But the smile +wrung Diana's heart. + +"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. + +"It was all so hurried--there was so little time to think or remember. +But now there is time." + +"Now you are going to rest?--and get well?" + +Marion smiled again. + +"I shall have holiday for a few months--then rest." + +"You won't live any more in the East End? You'll come to me--in the +country?" said Diana, eagerly. + +"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." + +What a ghost face!--and what shining eyes! + +"Oh, but make it long enough!" pleaded Diana, laying one of the +emaciated hands against her cheek, and smitten by a vague terror. + +"That does not depend on me," said Marion, slowly. + +"Marion," cried Diana, "tell me what you mean!" + +Marion hesitated a moment, then said, quietly: + +"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." + +A cry escaped Diana as she buried her face in her friend's lap. Marion +kissed and comforted her. + +"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--" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +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. + +When Marion kissed Diana at parting, she said, with emphasis: + +"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!" + +Diana's eyes gazed wistfully into hers. + +"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." + +"All right. I don't care for your reasons--so long as you go home--and +don't uproot." + +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. + +But now she was eager to be gone--to be alone again with her best +friend, in this breathing-space that remained to them. + +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 +_contadino's_ 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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"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 _her_ 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 _mar_, 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 _mar_ 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?" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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 _tête-à-tête_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _table d'hôte,_ 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? + + * * * * * + +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 _primitif_, 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. + +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. + +"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!" + +Sir James raised his eyebrows--smiled--and did not immediately reply. + +"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?" + +Sir James gave him a cordial glance. + +"All right, I'll do my best--if need arises. I suppose, Johnnie, you're +a rich man?" + +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. + +"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." + +Sir James made a growling sound, more expressive than articulate. + +"As it is," Ferrier resumed, "I have left half of it to my old Oxford +college, and half to the University." + +Chide nodded. Presently a slight flush rose in his very clear +complexion, and he looked round on his companion with sparkling eyes. + +"It is odd that you should have started this subject. I too have just +signed a new will." + +"Ah!" Ferrier's broad countenance showed a very human curiosity. "I +believe you are scarcely more blessed with kindred than I?" + +"No. In the main I could please myself. I have left the bulk of what I +had to leave--to Miss Mallory." + +"Excellent!" cried Ferrier. "She treats you already like a daughter." + +"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." + +"She must be made happy!" exclaimed Ferrier--"she _must_! Is there no +one--besides Oliver?" + +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?" + +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? + +Sir James sighed. "I sometimes see in her traces of--of +inheritance--which make one anxious." + +Ferrier's astonishment showed itself in mouth and eyes. + +"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." + +Ferrier agreed, but a little awkwardly, since the "damned nonsense" was +Lady Lucy's nonsense, and both knew it. + +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. + +"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.'" + +Ferrier laughed. + +"Don't be so sure. There is always a 'supplanter'--when the time is +ripe." + +"Where is he? Who is he?" + +"I had a very curious letter from Lord Philip this morning," said +Ferrier, thoughtfully. + +Chide's expression changed. + +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. + +Ferrier, having mentioned the letter, relapsed into silence. Sir James, +with a little contemptuous laugh, inquired what the nature of the +letter might be. + +"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. + +"He imagines you are going to accept that programme?" + +"I don't know. But it is clear that the letter implies a threat if I +don't." + +"A threat of desertion? Let him." + +"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." + +He mentioned two party papers which had already gone over to the +dissidents--one of some importance, the other of none. + +"All right," said Chide; "so long as the _Herald_ and the _Flag_ do +their duty. By-the-way, hasn't the _Herald_ got a new editor?" + +"Yes; a man called Barrington--a friend of Oliver's." + +"Ah!--a good deal sounder on many points than Oliver!" grumbled Sir +James. + +Ferrier did not reply. + +Chide noticed the invariable way in which Marsham's name dropped between +them whenever it was introduced in this connection. + +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. + +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 +_flagrantia moenia_ of some celestial city, challenged the whole life +and virility of the man. + +"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--" + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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." + +"_Fire, enthusiasm, life_." Does the human lot contain these things, or +no? If it does, have the gods mocked us, after all? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You've seen her?" + +"Yes." + +With this monosyllabic answer Mrs. Roughsedge seated herself, and slowly +untied her bonnet-strings. + +"My dear, you seem discomposed." + +"I hate _men_!" said Mrs. Roughsedge, vehemently. + +The doctor raised his eyebrows. "I apologize for my existence. But you +might go so far as to explain." + +Mrs. Roughsedge was silent. + +"How is that child?" said the doctor, abruptly. "Come!--I am as fond of +her as you are." + +Mrs. Roughsedge raised her handkerchief. + +"That any man with a heart--" she began, in a stifled voice. + +"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." + +"She is extremely well and cheerful." + +"Well, then, what's the matter?" + +Mrs. Roughsedge looked out of the window, twisting her handkerchief. + +"Nothing--only--everything seems done and finished." + +"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!" + +Mrs. Roughsedge slowly shook her head. + +"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." + +"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." + +"H'm!--well, I give it up." + +"Henry!"--his wife turned upon him--"I am convinced that poor child will +never marry!" + +"Give her time, my dear, and don't talk nonsense!" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Not exactly. But she asked about the election--" + +"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." + +"I told her you thought he would get in." + +"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." + +"The Vicar tells me the colliers are discontented--all through the +district--and there may be a big strike--" + +"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." + +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. + +"Miss Drake?" said the doctor, looking up. "Handsome girl! I saw Marsham +in a dog-cart with her yesterday afternoon." + +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. + +"You didn't say anything about _that_, Patricia, I'll be bound!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +Diana sat down upon a grass-bank, to look and dream. The flowers +dropped beside her; she propped her face on her hands. + +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. + +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-- + +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--" + +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 _Times_, 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-- + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Dear, you can't wish it!--you can't believe it! To brutalize--unsex +us!" + +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. + +"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." + +Diana pressed the speaker's hand to her lips. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +She could never forget that night of her misery when--good man that he +was!--he had brought her the message of his faith. + +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! + +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. + +But the rosettes were put away now--thrown into the bottom of a drawer. +She would never wear them. + +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. + +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. + +Had he come now to urge the same plea again? A woman's politics were +not, of course, worth remembering! + +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. + +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. + +"Yes, I know," said Diana--"I know. I shirked. Did he want the barn?" + +"Oh no. I convinced him, the other day, you were past praying for." + +"Was he shocked? 'It is a serious thing for women to throw themselves +across the path of progress,'" said Diana, in a queer voice. + +Muriel looked at her, puzzled. Diana reddened, and kissed her. + +"What did he want, then?" + +"He came to ask whether you would take the visiting of Fetter Lane--and +a class in Sunday-school." + +Diana gasped. + +"What did you say?" + +"Never mind. He went away quelled." + +"No doubt he thought I ought to be glad to be set to work." + +"Oh! they are all masterful--that sort." + +Diana walked on. + +"I suppose he gossiped about the election?" + +"Yes. He has all sorts of stories--about the mines--and the Tallyn +estates," said Muriel, unwillingly. + +Diana's look flashed. + +"Do you believe he has any power of collecting evidence fairly? I don't. +He sees what he wants to see." + +Mrs. Colwood agreed; but did not feel called upon to confirm Diana's +view by illustrations. She kept Mr. Lavery's talk to herself. + +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? + +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. + +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." + +"Did you hear of old Tom Murthly dropping dead in the medder last +Thursday?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Who will they go to now, Betty?" + +Betty's round, shapeless countenance, furrowed and scarred by time, +beamed with the joy of communication. + +"_Chancery!_" 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 +_ee_ is!" + +Diana tried to follow, held captive by a tyrannical pair of eyes. + +"And what relation is Mrs. Jack Murthly to the man who died?" + +"Brother's wife!" said Betty, sharply. "I thought you'd ha' known that." + +"But if nothing is heard of the son, Betty--of young Tom--Mrs. Murthly's +two daughters will have the cottages, won't they?" + +Betty's scorn made her rattle her stick on the flagged floor. + +"They ain't daughters!--they're only 'alves." + +"Halves?" said Diana, bewildered. + +"Jack Murthly worn't their father!" A fresh shower of nods. "Yo may take +it at that!" + +"Well, then, who--?" + +Betty bent hastily forward--Diana had placed herself on a stool before +her--and, thrusting out her wrinkled lips, said, in a hoarse whisper: + +"Two fathers!" + +There was a silence. + +"I don't understand, Betty," said Diana, softly. + +"Jack was '_is_ father, all right--Tom's in South Africa. But he worn't +_their_ 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 + + "If birth proceeds--if things subsist." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Will that content you? I have torn myself to ribbons for you!" + +"Oh, don't expect too much gratitude--_Oliver!_" The last word was low +and hurried. Alicia gathered up the reins hastily, and Marsham looked +round him--startled. + +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. + +"Never mind any more roses," said Alicia. "We ought to get home." + +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: + +"How sorry one is for her!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +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. + +"Capital!--to find you alone," said Bobbie, taking a seat beside her. +"All the others at Dunscombe, I hear. And no news yet?" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"He won't be kicked out." + +"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." + +"All the same he will get in; and if he don't get office now he will in +a few years." + +"Oliver must be flattered that you believe in him so." + +"I don't believe in him at all," said Lady Niton, sharply. "Every +country has the politicians it deserves." + +Bobbie grinned. + +"I don't find you a democrat yet." + +"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." + +"I hear that Oliver's speeches have been extremely good." + +"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." + +Bobbie laughed. + +"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?" + +"Give me my ball, sir--and don't dare to mention that girl's name in +this house." + +Bobbie opened his eyes. + +"I say!--what did you mean by writing to me like that if you weren't on +the right side?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"You can't have gone over to Lady Lucy and the Fotheringham woman!" + +Lady Niton looked at him with a queer expression of contempt in her +tanned and crumpled face. + +"Is that the only reason you can imagine for my not permitting you to +talk of Diana Mallory in this house?" + +Bobbie, looked puzzled. Then a light broke. + +"I see! You mean the house isn't good enough? Precisely! What's up. +Alicia? _No_!" + +Lady Niton laughed. + +"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." + +"Are they engaged?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Plucky of her to come back here!" said Bobbie. "And how's Lady Lucy?" + +Lady Niton moved impatiently. + +"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!" + +"Oh, you think he _is_ in the plot?" + +"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." + +"And Lady Lucy's fretting?" + +"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." + +"Poor old Ferrier!" said Bobbie, with a shrug of the shoulders. + +Lady Niton drew herself up fiercely. + +"Don't pity your betters, sir! It's disrespectful." + +Bobbie smiled. "You know the Ministry's resigned?" + +"About time! What have they been hanging on for so long?" + +"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." + +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. + +"As for the papers," said Bobbie, "you see they're already at it hammer +and tongs. However, so long as the _Herald_ sticks to Ferrier, he has +very much the best of it. This new editor Barrington is an awfully +clever fellow." + +"Barrington!--Barrington!" said Lady Niton, looking up, "That's the man +who's coming to-night." + +"Coming here?--Barrington? Hullo, I wonder what's up?" + +"He proposed himself, Oliver says; he's an old friend." + +"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 _beaux yeux_, or +Lady Lucy's." + +"What does it matter?" cried Lady Niton, disdainfully. + +"H'm!--you think 'em all a poor lot?" + +"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." + +"Upon my word! I have heard you say that Lord Philip's speeches were +abominable." + +"So they are. But he ought to have credit for the number of 'em he can +turn out in a week." + +"He'll be heard, in fact, for his much speaking?" + +Bobbie looked at his companion with a smile. Suddenly his cheek flushed. +He sat down beside her and tried to take her hand. + +"Look here," he said, with vivacity, "I think you were an awful brick to +stick up for Miss Mallory as you did." + +Lady Niton withdrew her hand. + +"I haven't an idea what you're driving at." + +"You really thought that Oliver should have given up all that money?" + +His companion looked at him rather puzzled. + +"He wouldn't have been a pauper," she said, dryly; "the girl had some." + +"Oh, but not much. No!--you took a dear, unworldly generous view of +it!--a view which has encouraged me immensely!" + +"You!" Lady Niton drew back, and drew up, as though scenting battle, +while her wig and cap slipped more astray. + +"Yes--me. It's made me think--well, that I ought to have told you a +secret of mine weeks ago." + +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. + +His listener emitted a few stifled cries--asked a few furious +questions--and then sat rigid. + +"Well?" said Bobbie, masking his real anxiety under a smiling +appearance. + +With a great effort, Lady Niton composed herself. She stretched out a +claw and resumed her work, two red spots on her cheeks. + +"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." + +Bobbie leaped from his chair. + +"Is that the way you mean to take it?" + +Lady Niton nodded. + +"That is the way I mean to take it!" + +"What a fool I was to believe your fine speeches about Oliver!" + +"Oliver may go to the devil!" cried Lady Niton. + +"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!" + +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. + +"You resemble Oliver in one thing!" Lady Niton threw after him. + +"What may that be?" he said, carelessly. + +"You both find gratitude inconvenient!" + +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." + +Lady Niton had only time to give him a fierce look when the door opened, +and Lady Lucy came wearily in. + +Bobbie hastened to meet her. + +"My dear Lady Lucy!--what news?" + +"Oliver is in!" + +"Hurrah!" Bobbie shook her hand vehemently. "I am glad!" + +Lady Niton, controlling herself with difficulty, rose from her seat, and +also offered a hand. + +"There, you see, Lucy, you needn't have been so anxious." + +Lady Lucy sank into a chair. + +"What's the majority?" said Bobbie, astonished by her appearance and +manner. "I say, you know, you've been working too hard." + +"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. + +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." + +Lady Lucy roused herself a little. + +"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 _horrid_ 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." + +"Well, my dear, this is what Democracy comes to," said Lady Niton, +taking up her knitting again with vehemence. "'_Tu l'as voulu, Georges +Dandin_.' You Liberals have opened the gates--and now you grumble at +the deluge." + +"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." + +"I suppose Alicia has been careering about with him all day?" said Lady +Niton. + +"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. + +"Not much to thank for, according to you!" observed Lady Niton, grimly. + +"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." + +"Lavery?" said Bobbie. "I thought he was a Radical. Weren't Oliver's +speeches advanced enough to please him?" + +"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." + +"Abominable!" said Bobbie, who was comfortably conservative. "I always +said that man was a firebrand." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Lost his voice," Roland Lankester explained. "And so done that we +begged him off from the Dunscombe dinner. He's only fit for bed." + +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. + +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. + +"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 _revolting_ the +lower classes are!" + +Lankester looked at her curiously. + +"You've worked awfully hard," he said. "I hope you're going to have a +good rest." + +"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, _pour encourager les autres_." + +So saying, she gathered up her gloves and parasol, and swept up-stairs +declaring that she was too dog-tired to talk. + +Bobbie Forbes and Lankester looked at each other. + +"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." + +Bobbie eyed his companion. + +"Was any of the Opposition personal to _her_?" + +Lankester nodded. + +"There's an extraordinary feeling all over the place for--" + +"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?" + +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: + +"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." + +Forbes shook his head. + +"Marsham's got a lot of devil in him somewhere. I shouldn't wonder if +this made him set his teeth." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"Why, the idiots have shut the windows!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Was that really why he had come down?--to make sure of this rich +Laodicean? Lankester fell into a reverie. + +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 _prayer_--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 _exeat_. 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. + +But again--why had he come down? + +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. + +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. + +By George, if he married that girl, he would pay his penalty to the +utmost! + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile the new member himself was in no melting mood. + +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. + +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! + +His whole being was tingling with anger and resentment. The contest had +steeped him in humiliations which stuck to him like mud-stains. + +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. + +There, on the table beside him, was Ferrier's reply: + + "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. + + "Yours ever, J.F." + +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. + +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. + +Absurd, of course! He _was_ 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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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! + +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. + +Suddenly he pushed his papers from him with a hasty unconscious +movement. + +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. + +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 +_him_--since the day when he had failed to keep the last tryst which +Diana had offered him? + +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. + + * * * * * + +Marsham pleaded fatigue, and dined in his room. In the course of the +meal he inquired of his servant if Mr. Barrington had arrived. + +"Yes, sir; he arrived in time for dinner." + +"Ask him to come up afterward and see me here." + +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 _Herald_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Are you up to conversation?" he said, laughing. "You look pretty done!" + +"If I can whisper you what you want," said Oliver, huskily, "it's at +your service! There are the cigarettes." + +The talk lasted long. Midnight was near before the two men separated. + + * * * * * + +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: + + "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. + + "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 _not_ 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." + +"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: + + "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. + + "Yours ever, John Ferrier." + +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 _fons et +origo_ of all Lord Broadstone's difficulties. + +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. + +"By Jove," he said to a friend with him, "I believe Ferrier's done the +trick!" + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +By a tiresome _contretemps_ 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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Herald_, 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? + + * * * * * + +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." + +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 _opportunity_. A man may be glad to have the +chance of leaving his mark on England." + +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. + +"Hullo! who comes?" + +Mrs. Colwood was running over the lawn, bringing apparently a letter, +and a newspaper. + +She came up, a little breathless. + +"This letter has just come for you, Mr. Ferrier, by special messenger. +And Miss Mallory asked me to bring you the newspaper." + +Ferrier took the letter, which was bulky and addressed in the Premier's +handwriting. + +"Kindly ask the messenger to wait. I will come and speak to him." + +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 _Herald_ 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. + +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 _Herald's_ +correspondent. The newspaper slid from his knee to the ground. + +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. + +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-- + +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. + +Sir James Chide stooped over Diana. + +"Run for help!--brandy!--a doctor! I'll stay with him. Run!" + +Diana ran. She met Mrs. Colwood hurrying, and sent her for brandy. She +herself sped on blindly toward the village. + +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. + +"Miss Mallory!--what is the matter?" + +She looked up, saw Oliver Marsham, and, in the carriage behind him, Lady +Lucy, sitting stiff and pale, with astonished eyes. + +"Mr. Ferrier is ill--very ill! Please go for the doctor! He is here--at +my house." + +The figure in the carriage rose hurriedly. Lady Lucy was beside her. + +"What is the matter?" She laid an imperious hand on the girl's arm. + +"I think--he is dying," said Diana, gasping. "Oh, come!--come back at +once!" + +Marsham was already in the carriage. The horse galloped forward. Diana +and Lady Lucy ran toward the house. + +"In the garden," said Diana, breathlessly; and, taking Lady Lucy's hand, +she guided her. + +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. + +"You are just in time," he said, tenderly; "but he is going fast. We +have done all we could." + +Ferrier was now lying on the grass, his head supported. Lady Lucy sank +beside him. + +"John!" she called, in a voice of anguish--"John--dear, dear friend!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +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. + +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. + +Brown, the butler, noiselessly entered the room, and approached Chide. + +"Please sir, Lord Broadstone's messenger is here. He thinks you might +wish him to take back a letter to his lordship." + +Chide turned abruptly. + +"Lord Broadstone's messenger?" + +"He brought a letter for Mr. Ferrier, sir, half an hour ago." + +Chide's face changed. + +"Where is the letter?" He turned to the doctor, who shook his head. + +"I saw nothing when we brought him in." + +Marsham, who had overheard the conversation, came forward. + +"Perhaps on the grass--" + +Chide--pale, with drawn brows--looked at him a moment in silence. + +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. + +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." + +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? + +The newspaper? Ah!--the _Herald_!--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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Mother!"--Marsham moved toward her, reluctantly--"here is a letter--no +doubt of importance. And--it is addressed to you." + +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. + +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 _Herald_ 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. + +"Oliver!" The voice was strong. He went back to her and she received him +with sparkling eyes, her hand on Broadstone's letter. + +"Oliver, this is what killed him! Lord Broadstone must bear the +responsibility." + +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 _Herald_, +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." + +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. + +"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." + +Lady Lucy flushed and looked up. + +"That man Barrington!" she said, vehemently. "Oh, if I had never had him +in my house!" + +Oliver made no reply. He sat beside her, staring at the grass. Suddenly +Lady Lucy touched him on the knee. + +"Oliver!"--her voice was gasping and difficult--"Oliver!--you had +nothing to do with that?" + +"With what, mother?" + +"With the _Herald_ 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--" + +"Mother!--you don't imagine that a man in Ferrier's position can be +upset by an article in a newspaper?" + +"I don't know--the _Herald_ 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--" + +"I didn't say anything of which I am ashamed," he said, sharply, raising +his head. + +His mother looked at him in silence. Their eyes met in a flash of +strange antagonism--as though each accused the other. + +A sound behind them made Lady Lucy turn round. Brown was coming over the +grass. + +"A telegram, sir, for you. Your coachman stopped the boy and sent him +here." + +Marsham opened it hastily. As he read it his gray and haggard face +flushed again heavily. + + "Awful news just reached me. Deepest sympathy with you and + yours. Should be grateful if I might see you to-day. + + "BROADSTONE." + +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. + +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. + +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: + + "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." + +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. + +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. + +"_Tell Oliver_--" + +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! + +She shivered under the thought; hurrying recollections of Mr. +Barrington's visit, of the _Herald_ 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 _Herald_ +article to Oliver that morning, on the drive which had been so +tragically interrupted. + +"Dear Lady Lucy!" + +She looked up. Sir James Chide stood beside her. + +The first thing he did was to draw her to her feet, and then to move her +chair into the shade. + +"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. + +"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--" + +Chide's hand suddenly clinched on his knee. + +"--If I could only get at that creature, Lord Philip!" + +"You think it was the shock--killed him?" The hard slow tears had begun +again to drop upon her dress. + +"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." + +She held out the letter to him. + +"You are to read it;" and then, in broken tones, pointing: "look! he +said so." + +He started as he saw the writing on the back, and again his hand pressed +hers kindly. + +"He felt ill," she said, brokenly; "he foresaw it. Those are his last +words--his precious last words." + +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. + +"Where is the _Herald_? I hear Mrs. Colwood brought it out." + +He searched the grass in vain, and the chairs. Lady Lucy was silent. +Presently she rose feebly. + +"When--when will they take him away?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Thank you. I want nothing. I shall soon be home. Oliver!" + +"I go to Lytchett with Sir James, mother. Miss Mallory begs that you +will let Mrs. Colwood take you home." + +"It is very kind, but I prefer to go alone. Is my carriage there?" + +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. + +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. + +"She is terribly shaken," said Sir James; "but she will never give way." + +Diana did not reply, and as he glanced at her, he saw that she was +struggling for self-control, her eyes on the ground. + +"And that woman might have had her for daughter!" he said to himself, +divining in her the rebuff of some deep and tender instinct. + +Marsham came back. + +"The ambulance is just arriving." + +Sir James nodded, and turned toward the house. Marsham detained him, +dropping his voice. + +"Let me go with him, and you take my fly." + +Sir James frowned. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Diana turned suddenly toward the house. + +"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. + +They hurried back, but there was still time for conversation. + +"You knew him, of course, from a child?" she said to him, glancing at +him with timid interrogation. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Sir James's messenger met them half-way. At the door the ambulance +waited. + +Chide, bareheaded, and a group of doctors, gardeners, and police stood +beside it. + +"I follow you," said Marsham to Sir James. "There is a great deal to +do." + +Chide assented coldly. "I have written to Broadstone, and I have sent a +preliminary statement to the papers." + +"I can take anything you want to town," said Marsham, hastily. "I must +go up this evening." + +He handed Broadstone's telegram to Sir James. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +Marsham replied that his fly had been announced. + +"What'll they offer you?" said Chide, abruptly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +But the immediate effect would be the triumph of the Cave, a new +direction given to current politics. That no one doubted. + +Marsham was lost in tumultuous thought. The truth was that the two +articles in the _Herald_ of that morning, which had arrived at Tallyn by +nine o'clock, had struck him with nothing less than consternation. + +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 _volte-face_. 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. + +"We have hoped against hope," said the _Herald_; "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 +_fight them through_ 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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The passage in the _Herald_ was given as a paraphrase, or, rather, as a +kind of _reductio ad absurdum_ 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 _Herald_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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 _anything_ were offered to him, he had certainly hoped for +something more considerable. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"You take it calmly!" he said, scandalized by her manner and tone. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"So there will be another election?" she said, presently, still standing +in front of him, erect and provocative, her eyes fixed on his. + +"Yes; but I sha'n't be such a brute as to bother you with it this time." + +"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!" + +"You do know him." + +"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. + +"Don't try and make a fool of him!" he said, in a low voice. "He's not +your sort." + +"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." + +Marsham nodded. + +"Altogether, an excellent _parti_." + +Alicia's infectious laugh broke out. She sat down beside him, with her +hands round her knees. + +"You look miles better than when you came in. But I think--you'd better +go to bed." + + * * * * * + +As Marsham, in undressing, flung his coat upon a chair, the copy of the +_Herald_ 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? + +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. + +He went into his sitting-room, found an empty drawer in his +writing-table, thrust in the newspaper, and closed the drawer. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +"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. _We_ +told him pretty plainly what we thought of him last time." + +"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. + +"Certainly, we shall turn him out." + +"Ah!--a Labor candidate?" said the doctor, showing a little more energy. + +Whereupon the Vicar, with as strong a relish for the _primeur_ 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. + +"But that we put up with," said the Vicar, grimly. "The joy of turning +out Marsham is compensation." + +The doctor turned an observant eye on his companion's clerical coat. + +"Shall we hear these sentiments next Sunday from the pulpit?" he asked, +mildly. + +The Vicar had the grace to blush slightly. + +"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!" + +"So, no doubt, did Torquemada!" replied the doctor, surveying him. + +The Vicar rose to the challenge. + +"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." + +"_Your_ forefathers," corrected the doctor. "Mine burned." + +The Vicar first laughed; then grew serious. "Well, I'll allow you two +opinions on the Inquisition, but not--" he lifted a gesticulating +hand--"_not_ two opinions on mines which are death-traps for lack of a +little money to make them safe--_not_ 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!" + +"You charge all these things against Marsham?" + +"He--or, rather, his mother--has a large holding in collieries against +which I charge them." + +"H'm. Lady Lucy isn't standing for West Brookshire." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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--" + +"I know," murmured the doctor, "I know. '_Joie de rue, douleur de +maison_.' 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." + +"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." + +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. + +She came back presently with a thoughtful countenance. + +"I asked him what he thought I ought to do about those tales I told you +of." + +"Why don't you settle for yourself?" cried the doctor, testily. "That is +the way you women flatter the pride of these priests!" + +"Not at all. _You_ make him talk nonsense; I find him a fount of +wisdom." + +"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'?" + +"He thinks Diana ought to know." + +"She can't do any good, and it will keep her awake at nights. I object +altogether." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +"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!" + +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 _mauvais sujet_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_"Damn_!" said the young lady, furiously. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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." + +"Fanny!" cried Diana, in amazement, rising from her chair. + +At her cousin's voice, Fanny halted, a few yards away. + +"Well," she said, defiantly, "of course I know you didn't expect to see +me!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Aren't you soon going home?" asked Diana, looking at her with a +troubled brow. + +"No, I'm--I'm engaged. I thought you might have known that!" The girl +turned fiercely upon her. + +"No--I hadn't heard--" + +"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." + +"_Fred Birch!_" Diana's voice was faltering and amazed. + +Fanny twisted her hat in her hands. + +"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." + +Diana's face changed. + +"Do you mean that I should help you out?" + +"Well, there's no one else!" said Fanny, still, as it seemed, defying +something or some one. + +"I gave you--a thousand pounds." + +"You gave it _mother 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." + +She was still looking straight before her, but her lip trembled. + +Diana bent forward impetuously. + +"Fanny!" she said, laying her hand on her cousin's, "_do_ go home!" + +Fanny's lip continued to tremble. + +"I tell you I'm engaged," she repeated, in a muffled voice. + +"Don't marry him!" cried Diana, imploringly. "He's not--he's not a good +man." + +"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." + +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. + +"Have you told Aunt Bertha?" she said, coldly--"asked her consent?" + +"Mother? Oh, I've told her I'm engaged. She knows very well that I +manage my own business." + +Diana withdrew her chair a little. + +"When are you going to be married? Are you still with those friends?" + +Fanny laughed. + +"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!" + +Fanny raised her head. Their eyes met: Fanny's full of mingled bravado +and misery; Diana's suddenly stricken with deep and remorseful distress. + +"Fanny, I told you to write to me if there was anything wrong! Why +didn't you?" + +"You hated me!" said Fanny, sullenly. + +"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 _implore_ you!--give up Mr. +Birch! Nobody speaks well of him! You'll be miserable!--you must be!" + +"Too late to think of that!" said Fanny, doggedly. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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--_directly_," she repeated, +hurriedly. + +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. + +"Fanny, I'll help you!" she said, in a low voice, putting her arms round +her cousin. "Don't cry--I'll help you." + +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. + +"You must come and stay here," said Diana, almost in a whisper. "And +where is Mr. Birch? I must see him." + +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. + +"I can't get at him. He sends my letters back. He'll not marry me unless +he's paid to." + +"When did you see him last?" + +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. + +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. + +She mentioned him to Fanny. + +"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." + +The odious, hearsay phrase came out with difficulty. But Fanny's eyes +glistened at the name of the great lawyer. + +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!" + + * * * * * + +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 _tête-à-tête_ 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? + +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. + +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." + +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? + +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. + +"You think I am going to let this business turn you out of +Beechcote--eh?--you preposterous little angel!" + +"Not this business," stammered Diana; "but I am really living at too +great a rate." + +Sir James grinned, patted her ironically on the shoulder, told her to be +a good girl, and departed. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: "SIR JAMES PLAYED DIANA'S GAME WITH PERFECT DISCRETION"] + + * * * * * + +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. + +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 +_Herald_, which had appeared on the morning of Ferrier's sudden death, +had been written by Oliver Marsham. + +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 _Times_. + +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. + +"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." + +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 _Herald_ article. + +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 _Herald_ +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. + +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 +_Herald_ had been staying at Tallyn two days before the article +appeared? Was he also aware that his name had been freely mentioned, in +the _Herald_ office, in connection with the article? + +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. + +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." + +This--together with the general denial--happened to reach Barrington, +and it rankled. When, therefore, Marsham appealed to him, he +brusquely replied: + + "DEAR MR. MARSHAM,--You know best what share you had in the + _Herald_ 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." + +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. + +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. + +A rally began in the Liberal host, which had felt itself already beaten. +Marsham's meetings improved, the _Herald_ article was apparently +forgotten. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +McEwart, who was sitting beside him, opened it, and presently gave a low +involuntary whistle of dismay. Marsham looked round. + +"What's the matter?" + +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. + +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. + +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 _Herald_ article, and below it the jubilant and scathing comments +of the Tory editor. + +He read both carefully, and gave the paper back to McEwart. "That +decides the election," he said, calmly. McEwart's face assented. + + * * * * * + +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. + +A group of very rough fellows pursued him, shouting and yelling, as he +left the school-room where the meeting was held. + +"Take care!" said McEwart, hurrying him along. "They are beginning with +stones, and I see no police about." + +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. + +"You're hurt!" he said, supporting him. "Let the groom drive." + +Marsham pushed him away. + +"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. + +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. + +"You _are_ hurt!" exclaimed McEwart. "Where did they hit you?" + +Marsham shook his head. + +"Better not talk," he said, in a whisper, "Drive home." + +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. + +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. + +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 _West Brookshire Gazette_, knowing that in the natural +course of things Diana must see it on the morrow. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +"What time is the carriage ordered for Mr. Nixon?" asked Marsham of his +servant. + +"Her ladyship, sir, told me to tell the stables four-twenty at +Dunscombe." + +"Let me hear directly the carriage arrives. And, Richard, go and see if +the Dunscombe paper is come, and bring it up." + +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. + +The footman returned with the newspaper. + +"Is her ladyship at home?" + +"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?" + +"Make up the fire, please. Put the cigarettes here, and don't come till +I ring." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +He moved irritably among his cushions, trying to arrange them more +comfortably. This _infernal_ 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. + +To distract his thoughts, Marsham took up the paper again. + +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. + +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. + +_She_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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 _him_ or anything that concerned him. +Never, indeed, had he seen her weep in his whole life before. He +triumphed in her tears. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +"Oliver!" said his mother's voice beside him--"dear Oliver!" + +He roused himself to find Lady Lucy bending over him. The pale dismay in +her face excited and irritated him. + +He turned away from her. + +"Is Nixon come?" + +"Dearest, he has just arrived. Will you see him at once?" + +"Of course!" he said, angrily. "Why doesn't Richard do as he's told?" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +Lady Lucy looked piteously at the speaker. + +"And how long?" she said, trembling. + +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." + +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. + +"John!--John!" cried the inner voice of agonized regret. And then: "My +boy!--my boy!" + + * * * * * + +"What did he say?" asked Alicia's voice, beside her. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +She answered, rather shortly. + +"He made no plan of the kind. Travelling, in fact, is absolutely +forbidden for the present." + +"Poor Oliver!" said Alicia, gently, her eyes on the ground. "How +_horrid_ it is that I have to go away!" + +"You! When?" Lady Lucy turned sharply to look at the speaker. + +"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. + +"Oliver will certainly want you; I don't know whom he +could--possibly--want--so much." Lady Lucy spoke the words with +slow emphasis. + +"Dear old boy!--I know," murmured Alicia. "I needn't be long away." + +"Why must you go at all? I am sure the Treshams--Lady Evelyn--would +understand--" + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Mr. Nixon left some directions to which I must attend," said Lady Lucy, +turning to her desk. "Will you go and read to him?" + +Alicia moved away, but paused as she neared the door. + +"What did Mr. Nixon say about Oliver's eyes? He has been suffering from +them dreadfully to-day." + +"Everything is connected. We can only wait." + +"Are you--are you thinking of a nurse?" + +"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?" + +"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!" + +Lady Lucy allowed the kiss, but made no reply to the remark. Alicia +departed. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Dear Oliver, you must cheer up," she said, softly. "You'll be well +soon--quite soon--if you are only patient." + +He made no reply. + +"Did you like Mr. Nixon?" she asked, in the same caressing voice, gently +rubbing her cheek against his arm. + +"One doesn't exactly like one's executioner," he said, hoarsely and +suddenly, but without opening his eyes. + +"Oliver!--dearest!" She dropped a protesting kiss on the sleeve of his +coat. + +Silence for a little, Alicia felt as if she could hardly breathe in the +hot room. Then Oliver raised himself. + +"I am going blind!"--he said, violently. "And nothing can be done. Did +that man tell my mother that?" + +"No, no!--Oliver!" She threw her arm round him, hastily repeating and +softening Nixon's opinion. + +He sank back on his cushions, gloomily listening--without assent. +Presently he shook his head. + +"The stuff that doctors talk when they can do no good, and want to get +comfortably out of the house! Alicia!" + +She bent forward startled. + +"Alicia!--are you going to stick to me?" + +His eyes held her. + +"Oliver!--what a cruel question!" + +"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 _is_ +a chance of my getting well--the thing is _not_ hopeless. If you'll +stand by me, I'll fight through. Will you?" He looked at her with a +threatening and painful eagerness. + +"Of course I will," she said, promptly. + +"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." + +"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." + +Her voice was coaxing and sweet. He partly withdrew himself from her, +however. + +"At least, you can tell my mother," he said, insisting. "Of course, she +suspects it all." + +"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." + +"What visit? You _are_ going to Eastham?--to the Tresham's?" It was a +cry of incredulous pain. + +"How _can_ I get out of it, dear Oliver? Evelyn has been _so_ 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." + +He lifted himself again on his cushions, surveying her ironically--his +eyes sunken and weak--his aspect ghastly. + +"Well, how long do you mean to stay? Is Lord Philip going to be there?" + +"What do I care whether he is or not!" + +"You said you were longing to know him." + +"That was before you were ill." + +"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. + +"Dear, do lie still. Shall I read to you?" + +He shook his head. + +"Don't stay with me. I shall be better after dinner." + +She rose obediently, touched him caressingly with her hand, drew a light +shawl over him, and stole away. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Alicia flew toward her. + +"From Cosette! Heavens! Oh, Benson, quick! Put it down. I'll help you." + +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. + +Alicia looked at it more critically. + +"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." + +The maid's face fell. + +"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." + +"Oh, never mind. You can easily pack them again. I really must go +through them." + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +She nodded, and Bobbie drew from his breast-pocket a folded sheet of +blue paper, and pompously handed it to Sir James. + +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. + +Sir James read it, and handed it back. "Well, what's the meaning of +that?" + +"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--" + +"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." + +Miss Wilson's eyes shot laughter at her _fiancé_. "Go on, Bobbie, and +don't make it too long!" + +"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!'" + +"Which means, I suppose, that the last time you went to him, you +borrowed fifty pounds?" said Sir James. + +"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." + +"And Lady Niton?" + +Bobbie sat down abruptly; the girl stared at the carpet. + +"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." + +"As far as I know," remarked Sir James, "she is staying with the +Feltons, five miles off, at this moment." + +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?" + +"Not at all. I never play Providence unless I'm told to do so. Only Miss +Mallory is coming to tea." + +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. + +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. + +"Did they arrest anybody?" asked Bobbie. + +"At Hartingfield? Yes--two lads. But there was not evidence enough to +convict. They were both released, and the village gave them an ovation." + +Bobbie hesitated. + +"What do you think was the truth about that article?" + +Sir James frowned and rose. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +A girl in a shady hat was driving it. + +"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. + +[Illustration: "SIR JAMES MADE HIMSELF DELIGHTFUL TO THEM"] + +"How do you do, Miss Mallory? Are you invited? I'm not." + +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! + +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! + +"Sit down; you look tired," said the old lady, in her piping, peremptory +voice. "Have you been here all the summer?" + +"Yes--since June." + +"Through the election?" + +"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. + +"You know--you've heard--about those poor things at Tallyn?" + +Diana made a quick movement. Her eyes were on the speaker. + +"How is Mr. Marsham?" + +Lady Niton shook her head. She opened a hand-bag on her wrist, took out +a letter, and put on her eye-glasses. + +"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.'" + +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. + +"Where is Miss Drake?" she said, sharply. "Is the marriage put off?" + +"Marriage!" Lady Niton laughed. "Alicia and Oliver? H'm. I don't think +we shall hear much more of that!" + +"I thought it was settled." + +"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." + +"The Treshams'?--a visit?--since the accident?" + +"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) "_there_ +she's met her match." + +"Rut they _are_ engaged?" said Diana, in bewildered interrogation. + +The little lady's laugh rang out--shrill and cracked--like the crow of a +bantam. + +"She and Lord Philip? Trust Lord Philip!" + +"No, I didn't mean that!" + +"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." + +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. + +"Lady Lucy has been ill too?" Diana inquired at last, in the same voice +of constraint. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Lady Niton examined Sir James--looked after Diana. + +"Look here!" she said, abruptly; "what's up? You two understand +something I don't. Out with it!" + +Sir James, who could always blush like a girl, blushed. + +"I vow that I am as innocent as a babe unborn!" + +"What of?" The tone of the demand was like that of a sword in the +drawing. + +"I have some guests here to-day." + +"Who are they?" + +"A young man you know--a young woman you would like to know." + +Silence. Lady Niton sat down again. + +"Kindly ring the bell," she said, lifting a peremptory hand, "and send +for my carriage." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Lady Niton sat blinking and speechless. Sir James drew the muslin +curtain back from the window. + +"There they are, you see--Bobbie--and the Explanation. And if you ask +me, I think the Explanation explains." + +Lady Niton put up her gold-rimmed glasses. + +"She is not in the least pretty!" she said, with hasty venom, her old +hand shaking. + +"No, but fetching--and a good girl. She worships her Bobbie, and she's +sending him away for a year." + +"I won't allow it!" cried Lady Niton. "He sha'n't go." + +Sir James shrugged his shoulders. + +"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. + +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. + +"You sha'n't go to Berlin!" she said to him, vehemently, as she just +allowed him to take her hand. + +"Dear Lady Niton!--I must." + +"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. + +Bobbie read, while Lady Niton stared hard at the girl. Presently Bobbie +began to gasp. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"I shall descend upon you next week," said Lady Niton abruptly, as Diana +made her farewells. "I shall be at Tallyn." + +Diana did not reply. The little _fiancée_ 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. + +Lady Niton, standing by Sir James, looked after her. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" + +She murmured a few words in his ear. + +"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." + +"She won't marry him!" + +"We shall see." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"I think she _was_ glad, Henry?" + +"Think it, my dear, if it does you any good," said the doctor, +cheerfully. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Loneliness ached in her heart--spoke to her from the future. And five +miles away Oliver, too, was lonely--and in pain. _Pain_!--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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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-- + + "First a peace out of pain--then a light--then thy breast!..." + +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: + + "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. + + "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. + + "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. + + "In youth and happiness we _are_ the spring--the young + green--the blossom--the plashing waves. Their life is ours + and one with ours. + + "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. + + "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. + + "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? + + "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 + _blood_--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. + + "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. + + "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. + + "'One day--there will come some one--who will love her--in + spite of me. Then you and he--shall tell her.' + + "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. + + "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. + + "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. + + "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. + + "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. + + "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!" + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +Suddenly it seemed to Diana that she was there beside him, in the +darkened room--that he heard her, and looked up. + +"Diana!" + +"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." + +And she broke down into bitter helpless tears, pleading, it seemed, with +things and persons inexorable. + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +"How is she?" + +Mrs. Colwood shook her head sadly. + +"Not well--and not happy." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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 _pax_ 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. + +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. + +"And you mean to go back?" + +"Perhaps." He colored and looked restlessly out of the window. + +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. + +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. + +At last she attempted it. + +"You have heard of our election? And what happened?" + +He nodded. His mother had kept him informed. He understood Marsham had +been badly hurt. Was it really so desperate? + +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. + +"I suppose"--he turned his face from her--"Miss Mallory does not now go +to Tallyn." + +"No." She hesitated, looking at her companion, a score of feelings +mingling in her mind. Then she broke out: "But she would like to!" + +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! + +"You mean--she still thinks--of Marsham?" + +"Of nothing else," she said, impetuously--"of nothing else!" + +He frowned and winced. + +She resumed: "It is like her--so like her!--isn't it?" + +Her soft pitiful eyes, into which the tears had sprung, pressed the +question on him. + +"I thought there was a cousin--Miss Drake?" he said, roughly. + +Mrs. Colwood hesitated. + +"It is said that all that is broken off." + +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. + +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. + +"Captain Roughsedge! They didn't tell me--" + +"I want to speak to you," said the Vicar, peremptorily, to Mrs. Colwood; +and he carried her off round the corner of the house. + +Diana gazed after them, and Roughsedge thought he saw her totter. + +"You look so ill!" he said, stooping over her. "Come and sit down." + +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. + +At last she recovered herself and sat up. + +"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." + +He took her hand, and his own self-control broke down. He raised it to +his lips with a stifled cry. + +"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. + +[Illustration: "ROUGHSEDGE STOOD NEAR, RELUCTANTLY WAITING"] + +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. + +At the end she gave a little gasp. + +"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." + +He looked at her in silence a moment, then asked her why. The tears rose +brimming in her eyes--her hands still in his. + +"Hugh--I--I--have always loved Oliver Marsham--and I--cannot think of +any one else. You know what has happened?" + +He saw the sob swelling in her white throat. + +"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." + +She withdrew her hands. + +"No!" The passion in her voice matched his own. "But I would give the +world if he could--and would!" + +There was a pause. Steadily the woman gained upon her own weakness and +beat it down. She resumed: + +"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 _ought_ 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_ +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. + +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. + +"But you can go," he said, a little hoarsely, "if you feel like that." + +She raised herself suddenly. + +"How do I know that he wants me?--how do I know that he would even see +me?" + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Shot?" asked the doctor. + +"Oh, dear, no! That would have been to waste ammunition. A limb was +hacked off, and they bled to death." + +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? + +Diana shuddered. + +"And that is _stopped_--forever?" Her eyes were on the speaker. + +"As long as our flag flies there," said the soldier, simply. + +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. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"Don't forget the gin, and the gin-traders on the other side, Master +Hugh." + +"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." + +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? + + * * * * * + +"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. + +The doctor rubbed his nose thoughtfully, and then looked round him for a +cigarette. + +"Yes," he said, slowly; "but he enjoyed his walk home." + +"Henry!" + +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. + +"Why am I to be 'Henry'-ed?"--inquired the doctor, beginning on his +cigarette. + +"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!" + +The doctor meditated. + +"I still say that Hugh enjoyed his walk," he repeated; "I trust he will +have others of the same kind--with the same person." + +"Henry, you are really incorrigible!" cried his wife. "How can you make +jokes--on such a thing--with that girl's face before you!" + +"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-- + + "'If she be not fair for me-- + What care I--'" + +"Henry!" and his wife, beside herself, tried to stop his mouth with her +hand. + +"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." + +"I thought you were so fond of her!" said his wife, reproachfully. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Since the accident, however, he had been kind--very kind. + +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. + +"I am afraid there is no better news of Oliver?" he said, gravely, as he +sat down beside her. + +She shook her head. + +"We are in despair, Nothing touches the pain but morphia. And he has +lost heart himself so much during the last fortnight." + +"You have had any fresh opinion?" + +"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--" + +Her voice shook. She stared into the fire. + +"You mean--about politics?" said Sir James, after a pause. + +"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--" + +Sir James moved impatiently. + +"With health he would soon recover everything," he said, rather shortly. + +She made no reply, and her shrunken faded look--as of one with no energy +for hope--again roused his pity. + +"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?" + +Lady Lucy raised her head sharply. The light came back to her eyes. + +"She was engaged to him, and three weeks after his accident she threw +him over." + +Sir James made a sound of amazement. Lady Lucy went on: + +"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 _him_. _He_ +must not be agitated, nor feel her any burden upon him; so, for _his_ +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_ replied. She would +like Tallyn, no doubt, as a place of retreat, should other plans fail; +but it will not be open to her!" + +It was not energy now--vindictive energy--that was lacking to the +personality before him! + +"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." + +"I am delighted to hear it!" said Lady Lucy, still erect and flushed. +"What do you know?" + +"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." + +"Alicia's self-conceit was always her weak point." + +But as she spoke the force imparted by resentment died away. Lady Lucy +sank back in her chair. + +"And Oliver felt it very much?" asked Sir James, after a pause, his +shrewd eyes upon her. + +"He was wounded, of course--he has been more depressed since; but I have +never believed that he was in love with her." + +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. + +"Will Oliver see me this evening?" he inquired, presently. + +"I hope so. He promised me to make the effort." + +A servant knocked at the door. It was Oliver's valet. + +"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?" + +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. + +When she returned she looked whiter and more shrivelled than before. + +"Is he worse to-night?" asked Sir James, gently. + +"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." + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"A bad time?" he said, in a whisper, standing beside the carefully +regulated spinal couch on which Marsham was sleeping. + +"Awful, sir. He was fair beside himself till we gave him the morphia." + +"Is there anybody sitting up?" + +"No. He'll be quiet now for six or seven hours. I shall be in the next +room." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Poor, poor old fellow! + +Lankester's whole being softened into pity. Yet he had no illusions as +to the man before him--a man of inferior _morale_ 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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." "_It is +God!_" replied the soul. + +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. + +"Ferrier!" he called, under his breath. The figure turned, but in his +blindness and semi-consciousness he did not recognize it. + +"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--" + +His voice dropped and his eyelids closed. + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"Don't think of it any more," he said. "It's forgotten!" + +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: + +"It would have been better to have burned the paper. One can't get away +from the thing. It--it disturbs me--" + +"What paper?" said Lankester, close to the dreamer's ear. + +"The _Herald_," said Marsham, impatiently. + +"Where is it?" + +"In that cabinet by the fire." + +"Shall I burn it?" + +"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 _Herald_ 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. + +After it was done he walked back to Marsham's side. "I have burned the +paper," he said, kneeling down by him. + +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: + +"Ferrier!" + +Silence. + +"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. + + * * * * * + +Next morning, as Marsham, after his dressing, was lying moody and +exhausted on his pillows, he suddenly said to his servant: + +"I want something out of that cabinet by the fire." + +"Yes, sir." The man moved toward it obediently. + +"Find a newspaper in the top drawer, folded up small--on the right-hand +side." + +Richard looked. + +"I am sorry, sir, but there is nothing in the drawer at all." + +"Nonsense!" said Marsham, angrily. "You've got the wrong drawer!" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"Does your man read you the _Times_?" asked Sir James, noticing that it +lay unopened beside him. + +Oliver nodded. "There was a dreadful being my mother found a fortnight +ago. I got rid of him." + +He had evidently not strength to be more explicit. But Sir James had +heard from Lady Lucy of the failure of her secretarial attempt. + +"I hear they talk of moving you for the winter." + +"They talk of it. I shall oppose it." + +"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." + +"My mother must go," said Oliver, closing his eyes. + +"She will never leave you." + +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?" + +"You dread the journey?" said Sir James, gently. "But there are ways and +means." + +"No!" Oliver's voice was sudden and loud. "There are none!--that make +any difference." + +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. + +"Is--is Miss Mallory still at Beechcote?" + +Sir James moved involuntarily. + +"Yes, certainly." + +"You see a great deal of her?" + +"I do--I--" Sir James cleared his throat a little--I look upon her as my +adopted daughter." + +"I should like to be remembered to her." + +"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?" + +Oliver slowly and sombrely shook his head. Then, however, he made a +visible effort. + +"But I want to see her. Will you tell her?" + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"We have tried everything--suggested everything. But it seems impossible +to rouse him to make an effort." + +Sir James resumed his walk--only to come to another stop. + +"Do you know--that he just now--sent a message by me to Miss Mallory?" + +Lady Lucy started. + +"Did he?" she said, faintly, her eyes on the blaze. He came up to her. + +"_There_ is a woman who would never have deserted you!--or him!" he +said, in a burst of irrepressible feeling, which would out. + +Lady Lucy's glance met his--silently, a little proudly. She said nothing +and presently he took his leave. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"May I disturb you, Lady Lucy?" said a tremulous voice. + +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. + +"It is very kind of you to come and see me," she said, mechanically. +"Will you sit down?" + +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. + +"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!" + +Now she had her two hands clasping, fondling Lady Lucy's. Her eyes shone +with tears, her mouth trembled. + +"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--" + +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. + +"You come to a sad house," said Lady Lucy, holding her away a little. + +"I know." The voice was quivering and sweet. "But he will recover--of +course he'll recover!" + +Lady Lucy shook her head. + +"He seems to have no will to recover." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Go in, please," said Lady Lucy, making room for her to pass. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +But Marsham did not perceive it. He saw, as in a cloud, the lovely oval +of the face, the fringed eyes, the bending form. + +"Will you sit down?" he said, hoarsely. + +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. + +"Yes." Her head drooped. "But I want Lady Lucy to let me come and stay +here--a little." + +"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." + +She looked up softly. + +"Your mother is so tired; she wants help. Won't you let me?" + +Their eyes met. His hand trembled violently in hers. + +"Why did you come?" he said, suddenly, breathing fast. + +She found no words, only tears. She had relinquished his hand, but he +stretched it out again and touched her bent head. + +"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." + +Diana had recovered her strength. She raised his hand, and leaned her +face upon it. + +"Let me stay," she repeated--"let me stay!" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"The awful thing is that when the pain comes I care about nothing--not +even you--_nothing_. 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. + +His servant hurried to him; in the passage outside Diana found Lady +Lucy. They went back to the sitting-room together. + +"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?" + +Diana nodded, unable to speak. + +"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?" + +She had withdrawn her arm, and the two confronted each other. + +"Perhaps you won't allow it," said Diana, piteously. "He said I might +only stay, if--if he might tell me--he loved me." + +"Allow it?" said Lady Lucy, vaguely--"allow it?" + +She fell into her chair, and Diana looked down upon her, hanging on the +next word. + +Lady Lucy made various movements as though to speak, which came to +nothing. + +"I have no one--but him," she said at last, with pathetic irrelevance. +"No one. Isabel--" + +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." + +"It will, perhaps, be only a few weeks--or months--and then he will be +taken from us." + +"But give me the right to those weeks. You wouldn't--you wouldn't +separate us now!" + +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. + +"No one shall forbid it!" said Diana, rising with a smile. "Now, may I +answer some of those letters for you?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Diana's eyes implored him. + +"Give him hope," she said, with intensity. "For weeks--months--he has +never allowed himself a moment's hope." + +The doctor reflected. + +"We will do what we can," he said, slowly. "Meanwhile, +cheerfulness!--all the cheerfulness possible." + +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! + +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? _Ah, madame, courage!_" + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +She saw that he was not asleep, and she went and knelt down beside him. + +"Oliver, darling!" + +He passed his hand over her hair. + +"I have been waiting for you--it is our wedding night." + +She hid her face against him. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The servant coming in, as he had been told, looked at them in +astonishment, and stole away again. + +An hour or so later Oliver woke. + +"I have had no morphia, and I am not in pain. My God! what does it +mean?" + +Trembling, he put out his hand. Yes!--Diana was there--asleep in her +chair. His _wife_! + +His touch roused her, and as she bent over him he saw her dimly in the +dim light--her black hair, her white dress. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13453 *** |