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diff --git a/15228.txt b/15228.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55a65ed --- /dev/null +++ b/15228.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12387 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lady Good-for-Nothing, by A. T. Quiller-Couch + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Lady Good-for-Nothing + +Author: A. T. Quiller-Couch + +Release Date: March 2, 2005 [eBook #15228] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING*** + + +E-text prepared by Lionel Sear + + + +LADY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING + +A Man's Portrait of a Woman + +by + +ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH ('Q') + +First Published in 1910. + +This story originally appeared in the weekly edition of the "Times," +and is now issued in book form by arrangement with the Proprietors of +that Journal. + + + + + + + +TO My Commodore and old Friend Edward Atkinson, Esq. +of Rosebank, Mixtow-by-Fowey. + + +NOTE + +Some years ago an unknown American friend proposed my writing a story on +the loves and adventures of Sir Harry Frankland, Collector of the Port +of Boston in the mid-eighteenth century, and Agnes Surriage, daughter of +a poor Marble-head fisherman. The theme attracted me as it has +attracted other writers--and notably Oliver Wendell Holmes, who built a +poem on it. But while their efforts seemed to leave room for another, I +was no match for them in knowledge of the facts or of local details; +and, moreover, these facts and details cramped my story. I repented, +therefore and, taking the theme, altered the locality and the +characters--who, by the way, in the writing have become real enough to +me, albeit in a different sense. Thus (I hope) no violence has been +offered to historical truth, while I have been able to tell the tale in +my own fashion. + +"Q." + + + +CONTENTS. + + +BOOK I.--PORT NASSAU. + + +I. THE BEACH. + +II. PORT NASSAU. + +III. TWO GUINEAS. + +IV. FATHER AND SON. + +V. RUTH. + +VI. PARENTHETICAL--OF THE FAMILY OF VYELL. + +VII. A SABBATH-BREAKER. + +VIII. ANOTHER SABBATH-BREAKER. + +IX. THE SCOURGE. + +X. THE BENCH. + +XI. THE STOCKS. + +XII. THE HUT BY THE BEACH. + +XIII. RUTH SETS OUT. + + +BOOK II.--PROBATION. + + +I. AFTER TWO YEARS. + +II. MR. SILK. + +III. MR. HICHENS. + +IV. VASHTI. + +V. SIR OLIVER'S HEALTH. + +VI. CAPTAIN HARRY AND MR. HANMER. + +VII. FIRST OFFER. + +VIII. CONCERNING MARGARET. + +IX. THE PROSPECT. + +X. THREE LADIES. + +XI. THE ESPIAL. + +XII. LADY CAROLINE. + +XIII. DIANA VYELL. + +XIV. MR. SILK PROPOSES. + +XV. THE CHOOSING. + + +BOOK III.--THE BRIDALS. + + +I. BETROTHED. + +II. THE RETURN. + +III. NESTING. + +IV. THE BRIDEGROOM. + +V. RUTH'S WEDDING DAY. + +VI. "YET HE WILL COME--". + +VII. HOUSEKEEPING. + +VIII. HOME-COMING. + + +BOOK IV.--LADY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING. + + +I. BATTY LANGTON, CHRONICLER. + +II. SIR OLIVER SAILS. + +III. MISCALCULATING WRATH. + +IV. THE TERRACE. + +V. A PROLOGUE TO NOTHING. + +VI. CHILDLESS MOTHER. + + +BOOK V.--LISBON AND AFTER. + + +I. ACT OF FAITH. + +II. DONNA MARIA. + +III. EARTHQUAKE. + +IV. THE SEARCH. + +V. THE FINDING. + +VI. DOCUMENTS. + +VII. THE LAST OFFER. + + +EPILOGUE + + + + +"An innocent life, yet far astray." Wordsworth's _Ruth_. + + + + + +BOOK I. + + + + +PORT NASSAU. + + + +Chapter I. + + +THE BEACH. + + +A coach-and-six, as a rule, may be called an impressive Object. +But something depends on where you see it. + +Viewed from the tall cliffs--along the base of which, on a strip of +beach two hundred feet below, it crawled between the American continent +and the Atlantic Ocean--Captain Oliver Vyell's coach-and-six resembled +nothing so nearly as a black-beetle. + +For that matter the cliffs themselves, swept by the spray and humming +with the roar of the beach--even the bald headland towards which they +curved as to the visible bourne of all things terrestrial--shrank in +comparison with the waste void beyond, where sky and ocean weltered +together after the wrestle of a two days' storm; and in comparison with +the thought that this rolling sky and heaving water stretched all the +way to Europe. Not a sail showed, not a wing anywhere under the leaden +clouds that still dropped their rain in patches, smurring out the +horizon. The wind had died down, but the ships kept their harbours and +the sea-birds their inland shelters. Alone of animate things, Captain +Vyell's coach-and-six crept forth and along the beach, as though tempted +by the promise of a wintry gleam to landward. + +A god--if we may suppose one of the old careless Olympians seated there +on the cliff-top, nursing his knees--must have enjoyed the comedy of it, +and laughed to think that this pert beetle, edging its way along the +sand amid the eternal forces of nature, was here to take seizin of +them--yes, actually to take seizin and exact tribute. So indomitable a +fellow is Man, _improbus Homo_; and among men in his generation Captain +Oliver Vyell was Collector of Customs for the Port of Boston, +Massachusetts. + + +In fairness to Captain Vyell be it added that he--a young English blood, +bearing kinship with two or three of the great Whig families at home, +and sceptical as became a person of quality--was capable as any one of +relishing the comedy, had it been pointed out to him. With equal +readiness he would have scoffed at Man's pretensions in this world and +denied him any place at all in the next. Nevertheless on a planet the +folly of which might be taken for granted he claimed at least his share +of the reverence paid by fools to rank and wealth. He was travelling +this lonely coast on a tour of inspection, to visit and report upon a +site where His Majesty's advisers had some design to plant a fort; and a +fine ostentation coloured his progress here as through life. He had +brought his coach because it conveyed his claret and his _batterie de +cuisine_ (the seaside inns were detestable); but being young and +extravagantly healthy and, with all his faults, very much of a man, he +preferred to ride ahead on his saddle-horse and let his pomp follow him. + +Six horses drew the coach, and to each pair of leaders rode a +postillion, while a black coachman guided the wheelers from the +box-seat; all three men in the Collector's livery of white and scarlet. +On a perch behind the vehicle--which, despite its weight, left but the +shallowest of wheel-ruts on the hard sand--sat Manasseh, the Collector's +cook and body-servant; a huge negro, in livery of the same white and +scarlet but with heavy adornments of bullion, a cockade in his hat, and +a loaded blunderbuss laid across his thighs. Last and alone within the +coach, with a wine-case for footstool, sat a five-year-old boy. + +Master Dicky Vyell--the Collector's only child, and motherless--sat and +gazed out of the windows in a delicious terror. For hours that morning +the travellers had ploughed their way over a plain of blown sand, dotted +with shrub-oaks, bay-berries, and clumps of Indian grass; then, at a +point where the tall cliffs began, had wound down to the sea between +low foothills and a sedge-covered marsh criss-crossed by watercourses +that spread out here and there into lagoons. At the head of this +descent the Atlantic had come into sight, and all the way down its +echoes had grown in the boy's ears, confusing themselves with a +delicious odour which came in fact from the fields of sedge, though he +attributed it to the ocean. + +But the sound had amounted to a loud humming at most; and it was with a +leap and a shout, as they rounded the last foothill and saw the vast +empty beach running northward before them, league upon league, that the +thunder of the surf broke on them. For a while the boom and crash of it +fairly stunned the child. He caught at an arm-strap hanging by the +window and held on with all his small might, while the world he knew +with its familiar protective boundaries fell away, melted, left him--a +speck of life ringed about with intolerable roaring emptiness. +To a companion, had there been one in the coach, he must have clung in +sheer terror; yes, even to his father, to whom he had never clung and +could scarcely imagine himself clinging. But his father rode ahead, +carelessly erect on his blood-horse--horse and rider seen in a blur +through the salt-encrusted glass. Therefore Master Dicky held on as +best he might to the arm-strap. + +By degrees his terror drained away, though its ebb left him shivering. +Child though he was, he could not remember when he had not been curious +about the sea. In a dazed fashion he stared out upon the breakers. +The wind had died down after the tempest, but the Atlantic kept its +agitation. Meeting the shore (which hereabouts ran shallow for five or +six hundred yards) it reared itself in ten-foot combers, rank stampeding +on rank, until the sixth or seventh hurled itself far up the beach, +spent itself in a long receding curve, and drained back to the foaming +forces behind. Their untiring onset fascinated Dicky; and now and +again he tasted renewal of his terror, as a wave, taller than the rest +or better timed, would come sweeping up to the coach itself, spreading +and rippling about the wheels and the horses' fetlocks. "Surely this +one would engulf them," thought the child, recalling Pharaoh and his +chariots; but always the furious charge spent itself in an edge of white +froth that faded to delicate salt filigree and so vanished. When this +had happened a dozen times or more, and still without disaster, he took +heart and began to turn it all into a game, choosing this or that +breaker and making imaginary wagers upon it; but yet the spectacle +fascinated him, and still at the back of his small brain lay wonder that +all this terrifying fury and uproar should always be coming to nothing. +God must be out yonder (he thought) and engaged in some mysterious form +of play. He had heard a good deal about God from Miss Quiney, his +governess; but this playfulness, as an attribute of the Almighty, was +new to him and hitherto unsuspected. + +The beach, with here and there a break, extended for close upon twenty +miles, still curving towards the headland; and the travellers covered +more than two-thirds of the distance without espying a single living +creature. As the afternoon wore on the weather improved. The sun, soon +to drop behind the cliff-summits on the left, asserted itself with a +last effort and shot a red gleam through a chink low in the cloud-wrack. +The shaft widened. The breakers--indigo-backed till now and turbid with +sand in solution--began to arch themselves in glass-green hollows, with +rainbows playing on the spray of their crests. And then--as though the +savage coast had become, at a touch of sunshine, habitable--our +travellers spied a man. + +He came forth from a break in the cliffs half a mile ahead and slowly +crossed the sands to the edge of the surf, the line of which he began, +after a pause, to follow as slowly northwards. His back was turned thus +upon the Collector's equipage, to which in crossing the beach he had +given no attention, being old and purblind. + +The coach rolled so smoothly, and the jingle of harness was so entirely +swallowed in the roar of the sea, that Captain Vyell, pushing ahead and +overtaking the old fellow, had to ride close up to his shoulder and +shout. It appeared then, for further explanation, that his hearing as +well as his eyesight was none of the best. He faced about in a puzzled +fashion, stared, and touched his hat--or rather lifted his hand a little +way and dropped it again. + +"Your Honour will be the Collector," he said, and nodded many times, at +first as if proud of his sagacity, but afterwards dully--as though his +interest had died out and he would have ceased nodding but had forgotten +the way. "Yes; my gran'-darter told me. She's in service at the +Bowling Green, Port Nassau; but walks over on Lord's Days to cheer up +her mother and tell the news. They've been expectin' you at Port Nassau +any time this week." + +The Collector asked where he lived, and the old man pointed to a gully +in the cliff and to something which, wedged in the gully, might at a +first glance be taken for a large and loosely-constructed bird's nest. +The Collector's keen eyes made it out to be a shanty of timber roofed +with shingles and barely overtopping a wood pile. + +"Wreckwood, eh?" + +"A good amount of it ought to be comin' in, after the gale." + +"Then where's your hook?"--for the wreckwood gatherers along this part +of the coast carry long gaffs to hook the flotsam and drag it above +reach of the waves. + +"Left it up the bank," said the old man shortly. After a moment he +pulled himself together for an explanation, hollowed his palms around +his mouth, and bawled above the boom of the surf. "I'm old. I don't +carry weight more'n I need to. When a log comes in, my darter spies it +an' tells me. She's mons'rous quick-sighted for wood an' such like-- +though good for nothin' else." (A pause.) "No, I'm hard on her; she +can cook clams." + +"You were looking for clams?" Captain Vyell scrutinised the man's face. +It was a patriarchal face, strikingly handsome and not much wrinkled; +the skin delicately tanned and extraordinarily transparent. +Somehow this transparency puzzled him. "Hungry?" he asked quickly; and +as quickly added, "Starving for food, that's what you are." + +"It's the Lord's will," answered the old man. + + +The coach had come to a halt a dozen paces away. The child within it +could hear nothing of this conversation; but to the end of his life his +memory kept vivid the scene and the two figures in it--his father, in +close-fitting riding-coat of blue, with body braced, leaning sideways a +little against the wind, and a characteristic hint of the cavalryman +about the slope of the thigh; the old wreck-picker standing just forward +of the bay's shoulder and looking up, with blown hair and patient eyes. +Memory recalled even the long slant of the bay's shoulder--a perfectly +true detail, for the horse was of pure English race and bred by the +Collector himself. + +After this, as he remembered, some command must have been given, for +Manasseh climbed down, opened the coach door and drew from under the +seat a box, of which he raised the lid, disclosing things good to eat-- +among them a pasty with a crisp brown crust. + +The wreck-picker broke off a piece of the pasty and wrapped it in a +handkerchief--and memory recalled, as with a small shock of surprise, +that the handkerchief was clean. The old man, though ragged enough to +scare the crows, was clean from his bare head to his bare sea-bleached +feet. He munched the rest of the pasty, talking between mouthfuls. To +his discourse Dicky paid no heed, but slipped away for a scamper on the +sands. + +As he came running back he saw the old man, in the act of wiping his +mouth with the back of his hand, suddenly shoot out an arm and point. +Just beyond the breakers a solitary bird--an osprey--rose with a fish +shining in the grip of its claws. It flew northward, away for the +headland, for a hundred yards or so; and then by some mischance let slip +his prey, which fell back into the sea. The boy saw the splash. +To his surprise the bird made no effort to recover the fish--neither +stooped nor paused--but went winging sullenly on its way. + +"That's the way o' them," commented the old wreck-picker. "Good food, +an' to let it go. I could teach him better." + +But the boy, years after, read it as another and different parable. + + + +Chapter II. + + +PORT NASSAU. + + +They left the beach, climbed a road across the neck of the promontory, +and rattled downhill into Port Nassau. Dusk had fallen before they +reached the head of its cobbled street; and here one of the postillions +drew out a horn from his holster and began to blow loud blasts on it. +This at once drew the townsfolk into the road and warned them to get out +of the way. + +To the child, drowsed by the strong salt air and the rocking of the +coach, the glimmering whitewashed houses on either hand went by like a +procession in a dream. The figures and groups of men and women on the +side-walks, too, had a ghostly, furtive air. They seemed to the boy to +be whispering together and muttering. Now this was absurd; for what +with the blare of the postillion's horn, the clatter of hoofs, the +jolting and rumbling of wheels, the rattle of glass, our travellers had +all the noise to themselves--or all but the voice of the gale now rising +again for an afterclap and snoring at the street corners. Yet his +instinct was right. Many of the crowd _were_ muttering. These New +Englanders had no love to spare for a Collector of Customs, a fine +gentlemen from Old England and (rumour said) an atheist to boot. They +resented this ostent of entry; the men more sullenly than the women, +some of whom in their hearts could not help admiring its high-and-mighty +insolence. + +The Collector, at any rate, had a crowd to receive him, for it was +Saturday evening. On Saturdays by custom the fishing-fleet of Port +Nassau made harbour before nightfall, and the crews kept a sort of +decorous carnival before the Sabbath, of which they were strict +observers. In the lower part of the town, by the quays, much buying and +selling went on, in booths of sail-cloth lit as a rule by oil-flares. +For close upon a week no boat had been able to put to sea; but the +Saturday market and the Saturday gossip and to-and-fro strolling were in +full swing none the less, though the salesmen had to substitute +hurricane-lamps for their ordinary flares, and the boy--now wide awake +again--had a passing glimpse of a couple of booths that had been wrecked +by the rising wind and were being rebuilt. He craned out to stare at +the helpers, while they, pausing in their work and dragged to and fro by +the flapping canvas, stared back as the coach went by. + +It came to a halt on a level roadway some few rods beyond this bright +traffic, in an open space which, he knew, must be near the waterside, +for beyond the lights of the booths he had spied a cluster of masts +quite close at hand. Or perhaps he had fallen asleep and in his sleep +had been transported far inland. For the wind had suddenly died down, +the coach appeared to be standing in a forest glade--at any rate, among +trees--and through the trees fell a soft radiance that might well be the +moon's were it only a tinge less yellow. In the shine of it stood +Manasseh, holding open the coach door; and as the child stepped out +these queer impressions were succeeded by one still more curious and +startling. For a hand, as it seemed, reached out of the darkness, +brushed him smartly across the face, and was gone. He gave a little cry +and stood staring aloft at a lantern that hung some feet above him from +an arched bracket. Across its glass face ran the legend BOWLING GREEN +INN, in orange-coloured lettering, and the ray of its oil-lamp wavered +on the boughs of two tall maples set like sentinels by the Inn gateway +and reddening now to the fall of the leaf. Yes, the ground about his +feet was strewn with leaves: it must be one of these that had brushed by +his face. + +If the folk in the streets had been sullen, those of the Inn were eager +enough, even obsequious. A trio of grooms fell to unharnessing the +horses; a couple of porters ran to and fro, unloading the baggage and +cooking-pots; while the landlady shouted orders right and left in the +porchway. She deemed, honest soul, that she was mistress of the +establishment, until Manasseh undeceived her. + +Manasseh's huge stature and gold-encrusted livery commanded respect in +spite of his colour. He addressed her as "woman." "Woman, if you will +stop yo' cacklin' and yo' crowin'? Go in now and fetch me fish, fetch +me chickens, fetch me plenty eggs. Fetch me a dam scullion. Heh? +Stir yo' legs and fetch me a dam scullion, and the chickens tender. +His Exc'llence mos' partic'ler the chickens tender." + +Still adjuring her he shouldered his way through the house to the +kitchen, whence presently his voice sounded loud, authoritative, above +the clatter of cooking-pots. From time to time he broke away from the +business of unpacking to reiterate his demands for fish, eggs, +chicken--the last to be tender at all costs and at pain of his +tremendous displeasure. + +"And I assure you, ma'am," said Captain Vyell, standing in the passage +at the door of his private room, "his standard is a high one. I believe +the blackguard never stole a tough fowl in his life. . . . Show me to my +bedroom, please, if the trunks are unstrapped; and the child, here, to +his. . . . Eh? What's this?--a rush-light? I don't use rush-lights. +Go to Manasseh and ask him to unpack you a pair of candles." + +The landlady returned with a silver candlestick in either hand, and +candles of real wax. She had never seen the like, and led the way +upstairs speculating on their cost. The bedrooms proved to be clean, +though bare and more than a little stuffy--their windows having been +kept shut for some days against the gale. The Collector commanded them +to be opened. The landlady faintly protested. "The wind would gutter +the candles--and such wax too!" She was told to obey, and she obeyed. + +In the boy's room knelt a girl--a chambermaid--unstrapping his small +valise. She had a rush-light on the floor beside her, and did not look +up as the landlady thrust open the lattice and left the room with the +Collector, the boy remaining behind. His candle stood upon a chest of +drawers by the window; and, as the others went out, a draught of wind +caught the dimity curtain, blew it against the flame, and in an instant +ignited it. + +The girl looked up swiftly at the sudden light above her, and as +swiftly--before the child could cry out--was on her feet. She caught +the fire between her two hands and beat it out, making no noise and +scarcely flinching, though her flesh was certainly being scorched. + +"That was lucky," she said, looking across at him with a smile. + +"Ruth!--Ruth!" called the landlady's voice, up the corridor. +"Here, a moment!" + +She dropped the charred curtain and hurried to answer the call. + +"Ruth! Where's the bootjack? His Honour will take off his +riding-boots." + +"Bootjack, ma'am?" interrupted the Collector, leaning back in a chair +and extending a shapely leg with instep and ankle whereon the +riding-boot fitted like a glove. "I don't maul my leather with +bootjacks. Send Manasseh upstairs to me; ask him with my compliments +what the devil he means by clattering saucepans when he should be +attending to his master. . . . Eh, what's this?" + +"She can do it, your Honour," said the landlady, catching Ruth by the +shoulder and motioning her to kneel and draw off the boot. +(It is likely she shirked carrying the message.) + +"Oh, very well--if only she won't twist my foot. . . . Take care of the +spur, child." + +The girl knelt, and with her blistered hand took hold of the boot-heel +below the spur. It cost her exquisite pain, but she did not wince; and +her head being bent, no one perceived the tears in her eyes. + +She had scarcely drawn off the second boot, when Manasseh appeared in +the doorway carrying a silver tray with glasses and biscuits; a glass of +red wine for his master, a more innocent cordial for the young +gentleman, and both glasses filmed over with the chill of crushed ice. + +The girl was withdrawing when the Collector, carelessly feeling in his +pocket, drew out a coin and put it into her hand. Her fingers closed on +it sharply, almost with a snatch. In truth, the touch of metal was so +intolerable to the burnt flesh that, but for clutching it so, she must +have dropped the coin. Still with bowed head she passed quietly from +the room. + +Master Dicky munched his macaroon and sipped his cordial. He had a +whole guinea in his breeches pocket, and was thinking it would be great +fun to step out and explore the town, if only for a little way. +To-morrow was Sunday, and all the stores would be closed. But Manasseh +was too busy to come with him for bodyguard--and his father's boots were +off; and besides, he stood in great awe and shyness of his admired +parent. Had the boots been on, it would have cost him a bold effort to +make the request. On the whole, the cordial warming him, Master Dicky +had a mind to take French leave. + + + +Chapter III. + + +TWO GUINEAS. + + +Though the wind hummed among the chimneys and on the back of the roof, +on either side of the lamp over the gateway the maples stood in the lee +and waved their boughs gently, shedding a leaf now and then in some +deflected gust. Beyond and to the left stretched a dim avenue, also of +maples; and at the end of this, as he reached the gate, the boy could +spy the lights of the fair. + +There was no risk at all of losing his way. + +He stepped briskly forth and down the avenue. Where the trees ended, +and with them the high wall enclosing the inn's stable-yard, the wind +rushed upon him with a whoop, and swept him off the side-walk almost to +the middle of the road-way. But by this time the lights were close at +hand. He pressed his little hat down on his head and battled his way +towards them. + +The first booth displayed sweetmeats; the next hung out lines of +sailors' smocks, petticoats, sea-boots, oilskin coats and caps, that +swayed according to their weight; the third was no booth but a wooden +store, wherein a druggist dispensed his wares; the fourth, also of wood, +belonged to a barber, and was capable of seating one customer at a time +while the others waited their turn on the side-walk. Here--his shanty +having no front--the barber kept them in good humour by chatting to all +and sundry while he shaved; but a part of the crowd had good-naturedly +drifted on to help his neighbour, a tobacco-seller, whose stall had +suffered disaster. A painted wooden statue of a Cherokee Indian lay +face downward across the walk, as the wind had blown it: bellying folds +of canvas and tarpaulin hid the wreck of the poor man's stock-in-trade. +Beyond this wreckage stood, in order, a vegetable stall, another +sweetmeat stall, and a booth in which the boy (who cared little for +sweetmeats, and, moreover, had just eaten his macaroon) took much more +interest. For it was hung about with cages; and in the cages were birds +of all kinds (but the most of them canaries), perched in the dull light +of two horn lanterns, and asleep with open, shining eyes; and in the +midst stood the proprietor, blowing delightful liquid notes upon a +bird-call. + +It fascinated Dicky; and he no sooner assured himself that the birds +were really for sale--although no purchaser stepped forward--than there +came upon him an overmastering desire to own a live canary in a cage and +teach it with just such a whistle. (He had often wondered at the things +upon which grown-up folk spent their money to the neglect of this +world's true delights.) Edging his way to the stall, he was summoning up +courage to ask the price of a bird, when the salesman caught sight him +and affably spared him the trouble. + +"Eh! here's my young lord wants a bird. . . . You may say what you +like," said he, addressing the bystanders, "but there's none like the +gentry for encouragin' trade. . . . And which shall it be sir? Here's a +green parrot, now, I can recommend; or if your Honour prefers a bird +that'll talk, this grey one. A beauty, see! And not a bad word in his +repertory. Your honoured father shall not blame me for sellin' you a +swearer." + +The boy pointed to a cage on the man's right. + +"A canary? . . . Well, and you're right. What is talk, after all, to +compare with music? And chosen the best bird of my stock, you have; the +pick of the whole crop. That's Quality, my friends; nothing but the +best'll do for Quality, an' the instinct of it comes out young." +The man, who was evidently an eccentric, ran his eye roguishly over the +faces behind the boy and named his price; a high one--a very high one-- +but one nicely calculated to lie on the right side of public +reprobation. + +Dicky laid his guinea on the sill. "I want a whistle, too," he said, +"and my change, please." + +The bird-fancier slapped his breeches pockets. + +"A guinea? Bless me, but I must run around and ask one of my neighbours +to oblige. Any of you got the change for a golden guinea about you?" he +asked of the crowd. + +"We ain't so lucky," said a voice somewhere at the back. "We don't +carry guineas about, nor give 'em to our bastards." + +A voice or two--a woman's among them--called "Shame!" "Hold your +tongue, there!" + +Dicky had his back to the speaker. He heard the word for the first time +in his life, and had no notion of its meaning; but in a dim way he felt +it to be an evil word, and also that the people were protesting out of +pity. A rush of blood came to his face. He gulped, lifted his chin, +and said, with his eyes steady on the face of the blinking fancier,-- + +"Give it back to me, please, and I will get it changed." + +He took the coin, and walked away resolutely with a set white face. +He saw none of the people who made way for him. + +The bird-fancier stared after the small figure as it walked away into +darkness. "Bastard?" he said. "There's Blood in that youngster, though +he don't face ye again an' I lose my deal. Blood's blood, however ye +come by it; you may take that on the word of a breeder. An' you ought +to be ashamed, Sam Wilson--slingin' yer mud at a child!" + + +The word drummed in the boy's ears. What did it mean? What was the +sneer in it? "Brat!" "cry-baby," "tell-tale," "story-teller," these +were opprobrious words, to be resented in their degree; and all but the +first covered accusations which not only must never be deserved, but +obliged a gentleman, however young, to show fight. But "bastard"? + +He felt that, whatever it meant, somehow it was worse than any; that +honour called for the annihilation of the man that dared speak it; that +there was weakness, perhaps even poltroonery, in merely walking away. +If only he knew what the word meant! + +He came to a halt opposite the drug store. He had once heard Dr. +Lamerton, the apothecary at home, described as a "well-to-do" man. +The phrase stuck in his small brain, and he connected the sale of drugs +with wealth. (How, he reasoned, could any one be tempted to sell wares +so nasty unless by prodigious profit?) He felt sure the drug-seller +would be able to change the guinea for him, and walked in boldly. +His ears were tingling, and he felt a call to assert himself. + +There was a single customer in the store--a girl. With some surprise he +recognised her for the girl who had beaten the flame out of the curtain. + +She stood with her back to the doorway and a little sidewise by the +counter, from behind which the drug-seller--a burly fellow in a suit of +black--looked down on her doubtfully, rubbing his shaven chin while he +glanced from her to something he held in his open palm. + +"I'm askin' you," he said, "how you came by it?" + +"It was given to me," the girl answered. + +"That's a likely tale! Folks don't give money like this to a girl in +your position; unless--" + +Here the man paused. + +"Is it a great deal of money?" she asked. There was astonishment in her +voice, and a kind of suppressed eagerness. + +"Oh, come now--that's too innocent by half! A guinea-piece is a +guinea-piece, and a guinea is twenty-one shillings; and twenty-one +shillings, likely enough, is more'n you'll earn in a year outside o' +your keep. Who gave it ye?" + +"A gentleman--the Collector--at the Inn just now. + +"Ho!" said the drug-seller, with a world of meaning. + +"But if," she went on, "it is worth so much as you say, there must be +some mistake. Give it back to me, please. I am sorry for troubling +you." She took a small, round parcel from her pocket, laid it on the +counter, and held out her hand for the coin. + +The drug-seller eyed her. "There must be some mistake, I guess," said +he, as he gave back the gold piece. "No, and you can take up your +packet too; I don't grudge two-pennyworth of salve. But wait a moment +while I serve this small customer, for I want a word with you +later. . . . Well, and what can I do for you, young gentleman?" he +asked, turning to Dicky. + +Dicky advanced to the shop-board, and as he did so the girl turned and +recognised him with a faint, very shy smile. + +"If you please," he said politely, "I want change for this--if you can +spare it." + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the man, staring. "What, _another?_" + +"The bird-seller up the road had no change about him. And--and, if you +please," went on Dick hardily, with a glance at the girl, "she hurt her +hands putting out a fire just now. I expect my father gave her the +money for that. But she must have burnt her hands _dreffully!_"--Dicky +had not quite outgrown his infantile lisp--"and if she's come for stuff +to put on them, please I want to pay for it." + +"But I don't want you to," put in the girl, still hesitating by the +counter. + +"But I'd _rather_ insisted Dicky. + +"Tut!" said the drug-seller. "A matter of twopence won't break either +of us. Captain Vyell's boy, are you? Well, then, I'll take your +coppers on principle." + +He counted out the change, and Dicky--who was not old enough yet to do +sums--pretended to find it correct. But he was old enough to have +acquired charming manners, and after thanking the drug-seller, gave the +girl quite a grown-up little bow as he passed out. + +She would have followed, but the man said, "Stay a moment. What's your +name?" + +"Ruth Josselin." + +"Age?" + +"I was sixteen last month." + +"Then listen to a word of advice, Ruth Josselin, and don't you take +money like that from fine gentlemen like the Collector. They don't give +it to the ugly ones. Understand?" + +"Thank you," she said. "I am going to give it back;" and slipping the +guinea into her pocket, she said "Good evening," and walked swiftly out +in the wake of the child. + +The drug-seller looked after her shrewdly. He was a moral man. + + +Ruth, hurrying out upon the side-walk, descried the child a few paces up +the road. He had come to a halt; was, in fact, plucking up his courage +to go and demand the bird-cage. She overtook him. + +"I was sent out to look for you," she said. "I oughtn't to have wasted +time buying that ointment; but my hands were hurting me. Please, you +are to come home and change your clothes for dinner." + +"I'll come in a minute," said Dicky, "if you'll stand here and wait." + +He might be called by that word again; and without knowing why, he +dreaded her hearing it. She waited while he trotted forward, nerving +himself to face the crowd again. Lo! when he reached the booth, all the +bystanders had melted away. The bird-seller was covering up his cages +with loose wrappers, making ready to pack up for the night. + +"Hello!" he said cheerfully. "Thought I'd lost you for good." + +He took the child's money and handed the canary cage across the sill; +also the bird-whistle, wrapped in a scrap of paper. Many times in the +course of a career which brought him much fighting and some little fame, +Dicky Vyell remembered this his first lesson in courage--that if you +walk straight up to an enemy, as likely as not you find him vanished. + +But he had not quite reached the end of his alarms. As he took the +cage, a parrot at the back of the booth uplifted his voice and +squawked,-- + +"No prerogative! No prerogative! No prerogative!" + +"You mustn't mind _him_," said the bird-seller genially. "He's like the +crowd--picks up a cry an' harps on it without understandin'." + +Master Dicky understood it no better; but thanked the man and ran off, +prize in hand, to rejoin the girl. + +They hurried back to the Inn. At the gateway she paused. + +"I let you say what was wrong just now," she explained. "Your father +didn't give me that money for putting out the fire." + +Here she hesitated. Dicky could not think what it mattered, or why her +voice was so timid. + +"Oh," said he carelessly, "I dare say it was just because he liked you. +Father has plenty of money." + + + +Chapter IV. + + +FATHER AND SON. + + +The dinner set before Captain Vyell comprised a dish of oysters, a fish +chowder, a curried crab, a fried fowl with white sauce, a saddle of +tenderest mutton, and various sweets over which Manasseh had thrown the +elegant flourishes of his art. The wine came from the Rhone valley--a +Hermitage of the Collector's own shipment. The candles that lit the +repast stood in the Collector's own silver candlesticks. As an old +Roman general carried with him on foreign service, packed in panniers on +mule-back, a tessellated pavement to be laid down for him at each +camping halt and repacked when the troops moved forward, so did Captain +Vyell on his progresses of inspection travel with all the apparatus of a +good table. + +Dicky, seated opposite his father in a suit of sapphire blue velvet with +buttons of cut steel, partook only of the fried fowl and of a syllabub. +He had his glass of wine too, and sipped at it, not liking it much, but +encouraged by his father, who held that a fine palate could not be +cultivated too early. + +By some process of dishing-up best known to himself (but with the aid, +no doubt, of the "dam scullion") Manasseh, who had cooked the dinner, +also served it; noiselessly, wearing white gloves because his master +abominated the sight of a black hand at meals. These gloves had a +fascination for Dicky. They attracted his eyes as might the +intervolved play of two large white moths in the penumbra beyond the +candle-light, between his father's back and the dark sideboard; but he +fought against the attraction because he knew that to be aware of a +servant was an offence against good manners at table. + +His father encouraged him to talk, and he told of his purchase--but not +all the story. Not for worlds--instinct told him--must he mention the +word he had heard spoken. Yet he got so far as to say,-- + +"The people here don't like us--do they, father?" + +Captain Vyell laughed. "No, that's very certain. And, to tell you the +truth, if I had known you were wandering the street by yourself I might +have felt uneasy. Manasseh shall take you for a walk to-morrow. +One can never be sure of the _canaille_." + +"What does that mean?" + +Captain Vyell explained. The _canaille_, he said, were the common folk, +whose part in this world was to be ruled. He explained further that to +belong to the upper or ruling class it did not suffice to be well-born +(though this was almost essential); one must also cultivate the manners +proper to that station, and appear, as well as be, a superior. Nor was +this all; there were complications, which Dicky would learn in time; +what was called "popular rights," for instance--rights which even a King +must not be allowed to override; and these were so precious that (added +the Collector) the upper classes must sometimes fight and lay down their +lives for them. + +Dick perpended. He found this exceedingly interesting--the more so +because it came, though in a curiously different way, to much the same +as Miss Quiney had taught him out of the catechism. Miss Quiney had +used pious words; in Miss Quiney's talk everything--even to sitting +upright at table--was mixed up with God and an all-seeing Eye; and his +father--with a child's deadly penetration Dicky felt sure of it--was +careless about God. + +This, by the way, had often puzzled and even frightened him. God, like +a great Sun, loomed so largely through Miss Quiney's scheme of things +(which it were more precise, perhaps, to term a fog) that for certain, +and apart from the sin of it and the assurance of going to hell, every +one removed from God must be sitting in pitch-darkness. But lo! when +his father talked everything became clear and distinct; there was no sun +at all to be seen, but there was also no darkness. On the contrary, a +hundred things grew visible at once, and intelligible and +common-sensible as Miss Quiney never contrived to present them. + +This was puzzling; and, moreover, the child could not tolerate the +thought of his father's going to hell--to the flames and unbearable +thirst of it. To be sure Miss Quiney had never hinted this punishment +for her employer, or even a remote chance of it, and Dicky's good +breeding had kept him from confronting her major premise with the +particular instance of his father, although the conclusion of that +syllogism meant everything to him. Or it may be that he was afraid. + . . . Once, indeed, like Sindbad in the cave, he had seen a glimmering +chance of escape. It came when, reading in his Scripture lesson that +Christ consorted by choice with publicans and sinners, he had been +stopped by Miss Quiney with the information that "publican" meant +"a kind of tax-collector." "Like papa?" asked the child, and held his +breath for the answer. "Oh, not in the least like your dear papa," +Miss Quiney made haste to assure him; "but a quite low class of person, +and, I should say, connected rather with the Excise. You must remember +that all this happened in the East, a long time ago." Poor soul! the +conscientiousness of her conscience (so to speak) had come to rest upon +turning such corners genteelly, and had grown so expert at it that she +scarcely breathed a sigh of relief. The child bent his head over the +book. His eyes were hidden from her, and she never guessed what hope +she had dashed. + + +It was a relief then--after being forced at one time or another to put +aside or pigeon-hole a hundred questions on which Miss Quiney's +teaching and his father's practice appeared at variance--to find a point +upon which the certainty of both converged. Heaven and hell might be +this or that; but in this world the poor deserved their place, and must +be kept to it. + +"That seems fine," said Dicky, after a long pause. + +"What seems fine?" His father, tasting the mutton with approval, had +let slip his clue to the child's thought. + +"Why, that poor people have rights too, and we ought to stand up for +them--like you said," answered Dicky, not too grammatically. + +"They are our rights too, you see," said his father. + +Dicky did not see; but his eagerness jumped this gap in the argument. +"Papa," he asked with a sudden flush, "did you ever stand up to a King +on the poor people's side, and fight--and all that?" + +"Well, you see"--the Collector smiled--"I was never called upon. +But it's in the blood. Has Miss Quiney ever told you about Oliver +Cromwell?" + +"Yes. He cut off King Charles's head. . . . I don't think Miss Quiney +liked him for that, though she didn't say so." + +The Collector was still smiling. "He certainly helped to cut off King +Charles's head, and--right or wrong--it's remembered against him. +But he did any amount of great things too. He was a masterful man; and +perhaps the reason why Miss Quiney held her tongue is that he happens to +be an ancestor of ours, and she knew it." + +"Oliver Cromwell?" Dicky repeated the name slowly, with awe. + +"He was my great-great-grandfather, and you can add on another 'great' +for yourself. I am called Oliver after him. They even say," added +Captain Vyell, sipping his wine, "that I have some of his features; and +so, perhaps, will you when you grow up. But of your chance of that you +shall judge before long. I am having a copy of his portrait sent over +from England." + +For a moment or two these last remarks scarcely penetrated to the boy's +hearing. Like all boys, he naturally desired greatness; unlike most, +he was conscious of standing above the crowd, but without a guess that +he derived the advantage from anything better than accident. His +father had the good fortune to be rich. For himself--well, Dicky +was born with one of those simple natures that incline rather to +distrust than to overrate their own merits. None the less he +desired and loved greatness--thus early, and throughout his life--and +it came as a tremendous, a magnificent shock to him that he +enjoyed it as a birthright. The repetition of "great"--"he was my +great-great-grandfather;" "you can add another 'great' for yourself"-- +hummed in his ears. A full half a minute ticked by before he grasped at +the remainder of his father's speech, and, like a breaking twig, it +dropped him to bathos. + +"But--but--" Dicky passed a hand over his face--"Miss Quiney said that +Oliver Cromwell was covered with warts!" + +Captain Vyell laughed outright. + +"Women have wonderful ways of conveying a prejudice. Warts? Well, +there, at any rate, we have the advantage of old Noll." The Collector, +whose sense of hearing was acute and fastidious, broke off with a sharp +arching of the eyebrows and a glance up at the ceiling, or rather (since +ceiling there was none) at the oaken beams which supported the floor +overhead. "Manasseh," he said quickly, "be good enough to step upstairs +and inform our landlady that the pitch of her voice annoys me. She +would seem to be rating a servant girl above." + +"Yes, sah." + +"Pray desire her to take the girl away and scold her elsewhere." + +Manasseh disappeared, and returned two minutes later to report that +"the woman would give no furdah trouble." He removed the white cloth, +set out the decanters with an apology for the mahogany's indifferent +polish, and withdrew again to prepare his master's coffee. + +At once a silence fell between father and son. Dicky had expected to +hear more of Oliver Cromwell. He stared across the dull shine of the +table at his parent's coat of peach-coloured velvet and shirt front of +frilled linen; at the lace ruffle on the wrist, the signet ring on the +little finger, the hand--firm, but fine--as it reached for a decanter or +fell to playing with a gold toothpick. He loved this father of his with +the helpless, concentred love of a motherless child; admired him, as all +must admire, only more loyally. To feel constraint in so magnificent a +presence was but natural. + +It would have astonished him to learn that his father, lolling there so +easily and toying with a toothpick, shared that constraint. Yet it was +so. Captain Vyell did not understand children. Least of all did he +understand this son of his begetting. He could be kind to him, even +extravagantly, by fits and starts; desired to be kind constantly; could +rally and chat with him in hearing of a third person, though that third +person were but a servant waiting at table. But to sit alone facing the +boy and converse with him was a harder business, and gave him an absurd +feeling of _gene_; and this (though possibly he did not know it) was the +real reason why, having brought Dicky in the coach for a treat, he +himself had ridden all day in saddle. + +Dicky was the first to resume conversation. + +"Papa," he asked, still pondering the problem of rich and poor, "don't +some of the old families die out?" + +"They do." + +"Then others must come up to take their place, or the people who do the +ruling would come to an end." + +"That's the way of it, my boy." The Collector nodded and cracked a +walnut. "New families spring up; and a devilish ugly show they usually +make of it at first. It takes three generations, they say, to breed a +gentleman; and, in my opinion, that's under the mark." + +"And a lady?" + +"Women are handier at picking up appearances; 'adaptable' 's the word. +But the trouble with them is to find out whether they have the real +thing or not. For my part, if you want the real thing, I believe there +are more gentlemen than gentlewomen in the world; and Batty Langton says +you may breed out the old Adam, but you'll never get rid of Eve. . . . +But, bless my soul, Dicky, it's early days for you to be discussing the +sex!" + +Dicky, however, was perfectly serious. + +"But I _do_ mean what you call the real thing, papa. Couldn't a poor +girl be born so that she had it from the start? Oh, I can't tell what I +mean exactly--" + +"On the contrary, child, you are putting it uncommonly well; at any +rate, you are making me understand what you mean, and that's the A and Z +of it, whether in talk or in writing. 'Is there--can there be--such a +thing as a natural born lady?' that's your question, hey?" +The Collector peeled his walnut and smiled to himself. In other +company--Batty Langton's, for example--he would have answered cynically +that to him the phenomenon of a natural born lady would first of all +suggest a doubt of her mother's virtue. "Well, no," he answered after a +while; "if you met such a person, and could trace back her family +history, ten to one you'd discover good blood somewhere in it. +Old stocks fail, die away underground, and, as time goes on, are +forgotten; then one fine day up springs a shoot nobody can account for. +It's the old sap taking a fresh start. See?" + +Dicky nodded. It would take him some time work out the theory, but he +liked the look of it. + +His drowsed young brain--for the hour was past bedtime--applied it idly +to a picture that stood out, sharp and vivid, from the endless train of +the day's impressions: the picture of a girl with quiet, troubled eyes, +composed lips, and hands that beat upon a blazing curtain, not flinching +at the pain. . . . And just then, as it were in a dream, he beat of her +hands echoed in a soft tapping, the door behind his father opened +gently, and Dicky sat up with a start, wide awake again and staring, for +the girl herself stood in the doorway. + + + +Chapter V. + + +RUTH. + + +"Hey, what is it?" the Collector demanded, slewing himself to the +half-about in his chair. + +The girl stepped forward into the candle-light. Over her shoulders she +wore a faded plaid, the ends of which her left hand clutched and held +together at her bosom. + +"Your Honour's pardon for troubling," she said, and laying a gold coin +on the table, drew back with a slight curtsy. "But I think you gave +me this by mistake; and now is my only chance to give it back. +I am going home in a few minutes." + +The Collector glanced at the coin, and from that to the girl's face, on +which his eyes lingered. + +"Gad, I recollect!" he said. "You were the wench that pulled off my +boots?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, upon my honour, I forget at this moment if I gave it by mistake +or because of your face. No, hang me!" he went on, while she flushed, +not angrily, but as though the words hurt her, "it must have been by +mistake. I couldn't have forgot so much better a reason." + +To this she answered nothing, but put forward her hand as if to push the +coin nearer. + +"Certainly not," said he, still with eyes on her face. "I wish you to +take it. By the way, I heard the landlady's voice just now, letting +loose upon somebody. Was it on you?" + +"Yes." + +"And you are going home to-night, you say. Has she turned you out?" + +"Yes." The girl's hand moved as if gathering the plaid closer over her +bosom. Her voice held no resentment. Her eyes were fixed upon the +coin, which, however, she made no further motion to touch; and this +downward glance showed at its best the lovely droop of her long +eyelashes. + +The Collector continued to take stock of her, and with a growing wonder. + +The lower half of the face's oval was perhaps Unduly gaunt and a trifle +overweighted by the broad brow. The whole body stood a thought too high +for its breadth, with a hint of coltishness in the thin arms and thick +elbow-joints. So judged the Collector, as he would have appraised a +slave or any young female animal; while as a connoisseur he knew that +these were faults pointing towards ultimate perfection, and at this +stage even necessary to it. + +For assurance he asked her, "How old are you?" + +"Sixteen." + +"That's as I guessed," said he, and added to himself, "My God, this is +going to be one of the loveliest things in creation!" Still, as she +bent her eyes to the coin on the table, he ran his appraising glance +over her neck and shoulders, judging--so far as the ugly shawl +permitted--the head's poise, the set of the coral ear, the delicate wave +of hair on the neck's nape. + +"Why is she turning you out?" + +"A window curtain took fire. She said it was my fault." + +"But it was not your fault at all!" cried Dicky. "Papa, the curtain +took fire in my room, and she beat it out. The whole house might have +been burnt down but for her. She beat it out, and made nothing of it, +though it hurt her horribly. Look at her hands, papa!" + +"Hold out your hands," his father commanded. + +She stretched them out. The ointment, as she turned them palms upward, +shone under the candle rays. + +"Turn them the other way," he commanded, after a long look at them. +The words might mean that the sight afflicted him, but his tone scarcely +suggested this. She turned her hands, and he scrutinised the backs of +them very deliberately. "It's a shame," said he at length. + +"Of course it's a shame!" the boy agreed hotly. "Papa, won't you ring +for the landlady and tell her so, and then she won't be sent away." + +"My dear Dicky," his father answered, "you mistake. I was thinking that +it was a shame to coarsen such hands with housework." He eyed the girl +again, and she met him with a straight face--flushed a little and +plainly perturbed, but not shrinking, although her bosom heaved--for his +admiration was entirely cool and critical. "What is your name?" he +asked. + +"Ruth Josselin." + +He appeared to consider this for a moment, and then, reaching out a hand +for the decanter, to dismiss the subject. "Well, pick up your guinea," +he said. "No doubt the woman outside has treated you badly; but I can't +intercede for you, to keep you a drudge here among the saucepans; no, +upon my conscience, I can't. The fact is, Ruth Josselin, you have the +makings of a beauty, and I'll be no party to spoiling 'em. What is +more, it seems you have spirit, and no woman with beauty and spirit need +fail to win her game in this world. That's my creed." He sipped his +wine. + +"If your Honour pleases," said the girl quietly, picking up the coin, +"the woman called me bad names, and I was not wanting you at all to +speak for me." + +"Oho!" The Collector set down his glass and laughed. "So that's the +way of it--'_Nobody asked you, sir, she said._' Dicky, we sit rebuked." + +"But--" she hesitated, and then went on rapidly in the lowest of low +tones--"if your Honour wouldn't mind giving me silver instead of gold? +They won't change gold for me in the town; they'll think I have stolen +it. Most Sundays I'm allowed to take home broken meats to mother and +grandfather, and to-night I shan't be given any, now that I'm sent away. +They'll be expecting me, and indeed, sir, I can't bear to face them--or +I wouldn't ask you. I beg your Honour's pardon for saying so much." + +"Hullo!" exclaimed the Collector. "Why, yes, to be sure, you must be +grandchild to the old man of the sea--him that I met on the beach this +afternoon, t'other side of the headland. Lives in a hovel with a wood +pile beside it, and a daughter that looks out for wreckage?" + +"Your Honour spoke with them?" Into Ruth's face there mounted a deeper +tide of colour. But whereas the first flush had been dark with +distress, this second spread with a glow of affection. Her eyes seemed +to take light from it, and shone. + +"I spoke with the old man. Since you have said so much, I may say more. +I gave him food; he was starving." + +She bent her head. Her hands moved a little, with a gesture most +pitiful to see. "I was afraid," she muttered, "with these gales, and no +getting to the oyster beds." + +"He took some food, too, to his daughter, with a bottle of wine, as I +remember." + +A bright tear dropped. In the candle-light Dicky saw it splash on the +back of her hand, by the wrist. + +"God bless your Honour!" Dicky could just hear the words. + +The door opened and Manasseh entered, bearing the coffee on a silver +tray. + +"Manasseh," said his master, "take that guinea and bring me change for +it. If you have no silver in the treasury get the landlady to change it +for you." + +Manasseh was affronted. His hand came near to shaking as he poured and +handed the coffee. + +"Yo' Hon'ah doan off'n use de metal," he answered. "Dat's sho'. +But whiles an' again yo' Hon'ah condescends ter want it. Dat bein' so, +I keep it by me--_an'_ polished. I doan fetch yo' Hon'ah w'at any low +trash has handled." + +He withdrew, leaving this fine shaft to rankle, and by-and-by entered +with a small velvet bag, from the neck of which he shook a small cascade +of silver coins, all exquisitely polished. + +"Count me out change for a guinea," commanded his master. + +Manasseh obeyed. + +"Now empty the bag, put into it what you have counted, and sweep up the +rest." + +Manasseh dropped in the coins one by one, and tied the neck of the bag +with its silken ribbon. The Collector took it from him and tossed it to +the girl. + +"Here--catch!" said he carelessly. + +But her burnt hands shrank from closing on if, and it fell to the floor. +She stooped, recovered it, and slipped it within her bodice. As she +rose erect again her eyes rested in wonder on the black servant who with +a crumb-brush was sweeping the rest of the money off the table and +catching it upon the coffee-salver. The rain and clash of the coins +appeared to confuse her for a moment. Then with another curtsy and a +"Thank your Honour," she moved to the door. + +"But wait," said the Collector sharply, on a sudden thought. "You are +not meaning to walk all the way home, surely?" + +"Yes." + +"At this hour?" + +"The wind has gone down. I do not mind the dark, and the distance is +nothing. . . . Oh, I forgot: your Honour thinks that, with all this +money, some one will try to rob me?" + +The Collector smiled. "You would appear to be a very innocent young +woman," he said. "I was not, as a fact, thinking of the money." + +"Nobody will guess that I am carrying so much," she said simply; "so it +will be quite safe." + +"Nevertheless this may help to give you confidence," said he. +Feeling in the breast pocket of his laced satin waistcoat, he drew forth +a diminutive pistol--a delicate toy, with a pattern of silver foliated +over the butt. "It is loaded," he explained, "and primed; though it +cannot go off unless you pull back the trigger. At close quarters it +can be pretty deadly. Do you understand firearms?" + +"Grandfather has a fowling-piece," she answered; "and, now that his +sight has failed, on Sundays I try to shoot sea-birds for him. He says +that I have a good eye. But last week the birds had all flown inland, +because of the gale." + +"Then take this. It is nothing to carry, and you may feel the safer for +it." + +She put up a hand to decline. "Why should I need it?" + +"We'll hope you will not. But do as I bid you, girl. I shall be +passing back along the beach in two days' time, and will call for it." + +She resisted no longer. + +"I will take it," she said. "By that time I may have thought of words +to thank your Honour." + +She curtsied again. + +"Manasseh!" Captain Vyell pointed to the door. The negro opened it and +stood aside majestically as she passed out and was gone. + + +Let moralists perpend. Ruth Josselin had knocked at that door after a +sharp struggle between conscience and crying want. The poverty known to +Ruth was of the extreme kind that gnaws the entrails with hunger. +It had furthermore starved her childhood of religion, and her sole code +of honour came to her by instinct. Yet she had knocked at the door with +no thought but that the Collector's guinea had come to her hand by +mistake, and no expectancy but that the Collector would thank her and +take it back. She was shy, moreover. It had cost courage. + +"Honesty is the best policy." True enough, no doubt. Yet, when all is +said, but for some radical instinct of honesty, untaught, brave to +conquer a more than selfish need, Ruth had never brought back her +guinea. And, yet again, from that action all the rest of this story +flows. When we have told it, let the moralists decide. + + + +Chapter VI. + + +PARENTHETICAL--OF THE FAMILY OF VYELL. + + +Captain Oliver Vyell, as we have seen, set store upon pedigree: and +here, as well in compliment to him as to make our story clearer, we will +interrupt it with a brief account of his family and descent. + +The tomb of Sir Thomas Vyell, second Baronet, at whose house of +Carwithiel in Cornwall our Collector spent some years of his boyhood, +may yet be seen in the church of that parish, in the family transept. +It bears the coat of the Vyells (gules, a fesse raguly argent) with no +less than twenty-four quarterings: for an Odo of the name had fought on +the winning side at Hastings, and his descendants, settling in the West, +had held estates there and been people of importance ever since. + +The Wars of the Roses, to be sure, had left them under a cloud, shorn of +the most of their wealth and a great part of their lands. Yet they kept +themselves afloat (if this riot of metaphor may be pardoned) and their +heads moderately high, until Sir William, the first Baronet, by +developing certain tin mines on his estate and working them by new +processes, set up the family fortunes once more. + +His son, Sir Thomas, steadily bettered them. A contemporary narrative +describes him as "chief of a very good Cornish family, with a very good +estate. His marrying a grand-daughter of the Lord Protector (Oliver) +first recommended him to King William, who at the Revolution made him +Commissioner of the Excise and some years after Governor of the Post +Office. . . . The Queen, by reason of his great capacity and honesty, +hath continued him in the office of Postmaster. He is a gentleman of a +sweet, easy, affable disposition--a handsome man, of middle stature, +towards forty years old." This was written in 1713. Sir Thomas died in +1726, of the smallpox, having issue (by his one wife, who survived him +but a few years) seven sons and three daughters. + +1. Thomas, the third Baronet: of whom anon. + +2. William, who became a Senior Student of Christ Church, Oxford, a + page to Queen Mary, and a Fellow of the Royal Society. A memoir + of the time preserves him for us as "a tall sanguineman, with a + merry eye and talkative in his cups." He married a Walpole, but his + children died young. + +3. John, who, going on a diplomatic mission to Hamburg, took a fever + and died there, unmarried. + +4. Henry, the father of our Collector. He married Jane, second + daughter of the Marquis of Lomond; increased his wealth in Bengal as + governor of the East India Company's Factory, and while yet + increasing it, died at Calcutta in 1728. His children were two + sons, Oliver and Henry, with both of whom our story deals. + +5. Algernon, who went to Jesus College, Cambridge, became a Fellow + there, practised severe parsimony, and dying unmarried in 1742, had + his eyes closed by his college gyp and weighted with two penny + pieces--the only coins found in his breeches pocket. He left his + very considerable savings to young Oliver, whom he had never + seen. + +6. Frederick Penwarne, barrister-at-law. We shall have something to do + with him. + +7. Roger, who traded at Calcutta and making an expedition to the + Persian Gulf, was killed there in a chance affray with some Arabs. + +8. Anne, who married Sackville. + +9. Frances Elizabeth, who married Pelham. + +10. Arabella, whose affections went astray upon a young Cornish yeoman. + Her family interfering, the match was broken off and she died + unmarried. + + +Oliver and Henry, born at Calcutta, were for their health's sake sent +home together--he one aged four, the other three--to be nurtured at +Carwithiel. Here under the care of their grandparents, Sir Thomas and +Lady Vyell (the Protector's grand-daughter), they received instruction +at the hands--often very literally at the hands--of the Rev. Isaac +Toplady, Curate in Charge of Carwithiel, a dry scholar, a wet +fly-fisher, and something of a toad-eater. They had for sole playmate +and companion their Cousin Diana, or Di, the seven-year-old daughter of +their eldest uncle, Thomas, heir to the estates and the baronetcy. + +This Thomas--a dry, peevish man, averse from country pursuits, penurious +and incurably suspicious of all his fellow-men--now occupied after a +fashion and with fair diligence that place in public affairs from which +his father had, on approach of age, withdrawn. He sat in Parliament for +the family borough of St. Michael, and by family influence had risen to +be a Lord of the Admiralty. He had married Lady Caroline Pett, a +daughter of the first Earl of Portlemouth, and the pair kept house in +Arlington Street, where during the session they entertained with a +frugality against which Lady Caroline fought in vain. They were known +(and she was aware of it) as "Pett and Petty," and her life was +embittered by the discovery, made too late, that her husband was in +every sense a mean man, who would never rise and never understand why +not, while he nursed an irrational grudge against her for having +presented him with a daughter and then ceased from child-bearing. + +Unless she repented and procured him a male heir, the baronetcy would +come to him only to pass at his death to young Oliver; and the couple, +who spent all the Parliamentary recesses at Carwithiel because Mr. +Thomas found it cheap, bore no goodwill to that young gentleman. +He _en revanche_ supplied them with abundant food for censure, being +wilful from the first, and given in those early years to consorting with +stable-boys and picking up their manners and modes of speech. The uncle +and aunt alleged--and indeed it was obvious--that the unruly boys passed +on the infection to Miss Diana. Miss Diana never accompanied her +parents to London, but had grown up from the first at Carwithiel--again +because Mr. Thomas found it cheap. + +In this atmosphere of stable slang, surrounded by a sort of protective +outer aura in their grandparents' godliness, the three children grew up: +mischievous indeed and without rein, but by no means vicious. +Their first separation came in 1726 when Master Oliver, now rising ten, +left for London, to be entered at Westminster School. Harry was to +follow him; and did, in a twelve-month's time; but just before this +happened, in Oliver's summer holidays. Sir Thomas took the smallpox and +died and went to his tomb in the Carwithiel transept. Harry took it +too; but pulled through, not much disfigured. Oliver and Diana escaped. + +The boys, to whom their grandfather--so far as they regarded him at +all--had mainly presented himself as a benevolent old proser, were +surprised to find that they sincerely regretted him; and the events of +the next few weeks threw up his merits (now that the time was past for +rewarding them) into a sharp light which memory overarched with a halo. +Tenderly into that halo dissolved his trivial faults--his trick, for +example, of snoring between the courses at dinner, or of awaking and +pulling his fingers till they cracked with a distressing sound. +These and other small frailties were forgotten as the new Sir Thomas and +his spouse took possession and proceeded in a few weeks to turn the +place inside out, dismissing five of the stable-boys, cutting down the +garden staff by one-third, and carrying havoc into the housekeeper's +apartments, the dairy, the still-room. + +In these dismissals I have no doubt that Sir Thomas and Lady Caroline +hit (as justice is done in this world) upon the chief blackguards. +But the two boys, asking one another why So-and-so had been marked down +while This-other had been spared, and observing that the So-and-so's +included an overbalancing number of their own cronies, found malice in +the discrimination, and a malice directed with intent upon themselves. + +Young Oliver, as soon as Harry was convalescent, discussed this +vehemently with him. Harry, weak with illness, took it passively. +He was destined for the Navy. To him already the sea meant everything: +as a child of three, on his voyage home in the _Mogul_ East Indiaman, he +had caught the infection of it; on it, as offering the only career fit +for a grown man, his young thoughts brooded, and these annoyances were +to him but as chimney-pots and pantiles falling about the heads of folks +ashore. But he agreed that Di's conduct needed explaining. She had +taken a demure turn, and was not remonstrating with her parents as she +ought--not playing fair, in short. "It must be pretty difficult for +her," said Harry. "I don't see," said Oliver. + + +The two boys went back to Westminster together. They spent the +Christmas holidays with their Uncle Frederick, the barrister, who +practised very little at the law either in court or in chambers, hut +dwelt somewhat luxuriously in the Inner Temple and lived the life of a +man-about-town. Their summer vacation was to be spent at Carwithiel; +but, as it happened, they were not to see Carwithiel again, for before +summer came news of their father's death at Calcutta. He had amassed a +fortune which, translated out of rupees, amounted to 400,000 pounds. +To his widow, in addition to her jointure, he left a life interest of a +thousand pounds _per annum_; a sum of 20,000 pounds was set aside for +Harry, to accumulate until his twenty-first birthday; while the +magnificent residue in like manner accumulated for young Oliver, the +heir. + +Lady Jane returned to England, to live in decent affluence at Bath; and +at Bath, of course, Oliver and Harry spent their subsequent holidays, +while their Uncle Frederick continued by occasional dinners and gifts of +pocket money, by outings down the river to Greenwich, by seats at the +theatre or at state shows and pageants, to mitigate the rigours of +school. Had it occurred to Oliver Vyell in later life to set down his +"Reflections" in the style of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, he might +have begun them in some such words as these: "From my mother, Lady Jane +Vyell, I learned to be proud of good birth, to esteem myself a +gentleman, and to regulate my actions by a code proper to my station in +life. This code she reconciled with the Gospels, and indeed, she rested +it on the rock of Holy Scripture. From my Uncle Frederick I learned +that self-interest was the key of life; that the teachings of the +priest-hood were more or less conscious humbug; that all men could be +bought; that their god was vanity, and the Great Revolution the noblest +event in English history. . . ." + +The sane infusion of Father Neptune in Master Harry's blood preserved +him from these doctrines, and before long indeed removed him out of the +way of hearing them. Soon after his fifteenth birthday he sailed to +learn his profession shipping (by a fiction of the service), as +"cabin boy" under his mother's brother. Lord Robert Soules, then +commanding the _Merope_ frigate. + +Oliver proceeded to Christ Church, Oxford, and thence (without waiting +for a degree) to make the Grand Tour; in the course of which and in +company with his cousin, Dick Pelham, and a Mr. Batty Langton, a Christ +Church friend, he visited Florence, Rome, Naples, Athens, and +Constantinople, returning through Rome again and by way of Venice, +Switzerland, Paris. He reached home to find that his mother, who +believed in keeping young men employed, had procured him a cornetcy in +Lord Lomond's Troop of Horse. He was now in possession of an ample +fortune. He would certainly succeed to the baronetcy, and to the Vyell +acres, which were mostly entailed. + +But the grave itself could not give lessons in greed to a true Whig +family of that period. Lady Jane had it in her blood, every tradition +of it. Her son (though within a few months he rose to command of a +troop) detested all military routine save active service. He despised +the triumphs of the Senate. To keep him out of mischief--or, rather, as +you shall hear, to extricate him from it--the good dame made application +to the Duke of Newcastle; and so in the year 1737, at the age of +twenty-one, Captain Oliver Vyell was appointed to the lucrative post of +Collector to the port of Boston. + +He had held it, now, for close upon seven years. + + + +Chapter VII. + + +A SABBATH-BREAKER. + + +Now, in his twenty-eighth year, Oliver Vyell, handsome of face, standing +six feet two inches in his stockings, well built and of iron +constitution, might fairly be called a sensual man, but not fairly a +sensualist. The distinction lay in his manliness. He was a man, every +inch of him. + +He enjoyed hard riding even more than hard gaming, and far more than +hard drinking; courted fatigue as a form of bodily indulgence; would +tramp from twenty to thirty miles in any weather on a chance of sport; +loved the bite of the wind, the shock of cold water; and was a bold +swimmer in a generation that shunned the exercise. + +He awoke next morning to find the sun shining in on his window after a +boisterous night. He looked at his watch and rang a small bell that +stood on the table by his bed. Within ten seconds Manasseh appeared, +and was commanded first to draw up the blind and then, though the hour +was early, to bring shaving-water with all speed. + +While the negro went on his errand Captain Vyell arose, slipped on his +dressing-gown, and strolled to the window. It looked upon the ocean, +over a clean stretch of beach that ran north-west, starting from the +pier-head of the harbour and fringing the town's outskirt. Half a dozen +houses formed this outskirt or suburb--decent weather-boarded houses +standing in their own gardens along a curved cliff overlooking the +beach. The beach was of hardest sand, and just beneath the Collector's +window so level that it served for a second bowling-green, or +ten-pin-alley. Thus it ran out for some twenty rods and then shelved +abruptly. Captain Vyell, who had an eye for such phenomena, judged that +this bank had formed itself quite recently, since the building of the +pier. + +A heavy sea was running, and evidently with a strong undertow. When +Manasseh returned with the hot water, Captain Vyell announced that he +would bathe before taking his chocolate. + +"Yo' Hon'ah will bathe befor' shaving?" + +"You d----d fool, did you ever know me do _any_thing before shaving?" + +Manasseh chose a razor, stropped it, and worked the shaving soap into a +lather. + +"Beggin' yo' Hon'ah's pardon," said he, "it bein' de Lawd's Day, an' +these Port Nassau people dam' ig'orant--" + +"Hand me the _peignoir_," commanded his master sharply. + +He sat, and was shaved. Then, having sponged his chin, he ordered +Manasseh to lay out his bathing-dress, retire, find a back way to the +beach and, having opened all doors, attend him below. He indued himself +in his bathing-dress very deliberately, standing up for a minute stark +naked in the sunshine flooding through the open window--a splendid +figure, foretasting battle with the surf. + +Then, having drawn on his bathing-dress and thrust his feet into +sand-shoes, he cast his dressing-gown again over him and went down the +stairs at a run. The doors stood open, and on the beach the negro +awaited him in the right attitude of "attention." To him he tossed his +wrap and shoes, and ran down to the beach as might swift-footed Achilles +have run to be clasped by the Sea-Goddess his mother. + +Through the shallow wavelets he ran, stepping high and delicately +splashing merry drops against the morning sunlight, leaped over one or +two that would have "tilled" him to the knee (to use an old boyish +phrase learnt at Carwithiel where he had learnt to swim), and came to +the shelf beyond which the first tall comber boomed towards him, more +than head high, hissing along its ridge. There, as it overarched him, +he launched his body forward and shot through the transparent green, +emerging beyond the white smother with a thrill and a laugh of sheer +physical delight. Thrice he repeated this,-- + + "Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, + Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in. . ." + +passed the fourth wave, gained deep water, and thrust out to sea with a +steady breast-stroke, his eyes all the while on the great embracing +flood which, stretch as it might from here to Europe, for the moment he +commanded. + +Manasseh watched him from the beach. From the cliff above two +scandalised householders calling to one another across their gardens' +boundary pointed seaward and summoned their families to the windows to +note the reprobate swimmer and a Sabbath profaned. + +The eyes of a long-shore population are ever on the sea from which comes +their livelihood, and nothing on the sea escapes them long. +The Collector's head by this time was but a speck bobbing on the waves, +but ere he turned back for shore maybe two hundred of Port Nassau's +population were watching, from various points. The Port Nassauers, +whatever their individual frailties, were sternly religious--nine-tenths +of them from conviction or habit, the rest in self-defence--and +Sabbatarians to a man. The sight of that heathen slave, Manasseh, +waiting on the beach with a bath-gown over his arm, incensed them to +fury. Growls were uttered, here and there, that if the authorities knew +their business this law-breaker--for Sabbath-breaking was an indictable +offence--should be seized on landing, haled naked to justice, and +clapped in the town stocks; but fortunately this indignation had no +concert and found, for the moment, no leader. + +The Collector, having swum out more than half a mile, turned and sped +back, using a sharp side-stroke now with a curving arm that cleft the +ridges like the fin of a fish. His feet touched earth, and he ran up +through the pursuing breakers--a fleet-footed Achilles again, glittering +from the bath. Manasseh hurried down to throw his mantle over the +godlike man. + +"Towel me here," was the panting command. And, lo! slipping off his +bathing-dress and standing naked to the sea. Captain Vyell was towelled +under the eyes of Port Nassau, and flesh-brushed until he glowed (it may +be) as healthily as did the cheeks of those who spied on him. On this +question the Muse declines to take sides. For certain his naked body, +after these ministrations, glowed delicious within the bath-gown as he +mounted again to his Olympian chamber. There he allowed Manasseh to +wash out his locks in fresh water (the Collector had a fine head of +hair, of a waved brown, and detested a wig), to anoint them, and tie +them behind with a fresh black ribbon. This done, he took his clothes +one by one as Manasseh handed them, and arrayed himself, humming the +while an air from Opera, and thus unconsciously committing a second +offence against the Sabbath. + +He descended to find Dicky already seated at table, awaiting him. +Dicky had slept like a top in spite of the strange bed; and awaking soon +after daybreak, had lain cosily listening to the boom of the sea. +To him this holiday was a glorious interlude in the regime of Miss +Quiney. His handsome father did not kiss him, but merely patted him on +the shoulder as he passed to his chair; and to Dick (though he would +have liked a kiss) it seemed just the right manly thing to do. + +They talked merrily while Manasseh brought in the breakfast dishes--for +Master Dicky bread-and-milk followed by a simple steak of cod; a +bewildering succession of chowder, omelet, devilled kidneys, cold ham, +game pie, and fruit for the Collector, who professed himself keen-set as +a hunter, and washed down the viands with a tankard of cider. +He described his bathe, and promised Dicky that he should have his first +swimming lessons next summer. "I must talk about you to your Uncle +Harry. Craze for the sea? At your age if he saw a puddle of water he +must stick his toes in it. He's cruising just now, off South Carolina, +keeping a look-out for guarda-costas. He'll render an account of them, +you may be sure. He writes that he may be coming up Boston way any time +now. Oh, I can swim, but for diving you should see your Uncle Harry-- +off the yard-arm--body taut as a whip--nothing like it in any of the old +Greeks' statues. Plenty of talk about bathing; but diving? No. In the +east, must go south to the Persian Gulf to see diving. The god Hermes +descending on Ogygia--if you could imagine that, you had Uncle Harry-- +the shoot outwards, the delicate curve to a straight slant, heels rising +above rigid body while you counted, begad! holding your breath. +Then the plumb drop, like a gannet's--" + +Dicky listened, glorious vistas opening before him. With the fruit +Manasseh brought coffee; and still the boy sat entranced while his +father chatted, glowing with exercise and enjoying a breakfast at every +point excellent. + +It was in merest thoughtlessness, no doubt, that having arranged for +Dicky's morning walk, and after smoking a tobacco leaf rolled with an +art of which Manasseh possessed the secret, the Collector so timed his +message to the stables that his groom brought the horse Bayard around to +the Inn door just as the Sabbath bells began tolling for divine worship. +For as a sceptic he was careless rather than militant; ridiculing +religion only in his own set, and when occasion arose, and then without +fanaticism. For such piety as his mother's he had even a tolerant +respect; and in any event had too much breeding to affront of set +purpose the godly townsfolk of Port Nassau. At the first note of the +bells he frowned and blamed himself for not having started earlier. +But he had already made appointment by letter to meet the Surveyor and +the Assistant Surveyor at noon on the headland, to measure out and +discuss the site of the proposed fortification; and he was a punctilious +man in observing engagements. + +It may be asked how, if civil to other men's scruples, he had come to +make such an appointment for the Sabbath. He had answered this and (as +he hoped) with suitable apologies in his letter to the surveyor, +Mr. Wapshott: explaining that as His Majesty's business was bringing him +to Port Nassau, so it obliged him to be back at Boston by such-and-such +a date. He was personally unacquainted with this Mr. Wapshott, who had +omitted the courtesy of calling upon him at the Bowling Green, and whom +by consequence he was inclined to set down as a person of defective +manners. But Mr. Wapshott was, after all, in the King's service and +would understand its exigencies. + +He mounted therefore and rode up the street. The roadway was deserted; +but along the side-walk, sober families, marching by twos and threes, +turned their heads at the sound of Bayard's hoofs on the cobbles. +The Collector set his face and passed them with a grave look, as of one +absorbed in affairs of moment. Nevertheless, coming to the whitewashed +Church where the streams of worshippers converged and choking the +porchway overflowed upon the street, he added the courtesy of doffing +his hat as he rode by. He did this still with a set face, looking +straight between Bayard's ears; but with the tail of his eye caught one +glimpse of a little comedy which puzzled and amused him. + +A small rotund, red-gilled man, in bearing and aspect not unlike a +turkey-cock, was mounting the steps of the portico. Behind this +personage sailed an ample lady of middle age, with a bevy of younger +damsels--his spouse and daughters doubtless. Suddenly--and as if, at +sight of the Collector, a whisper passed among them--the middle-aged +lady shot out a hand, arrested her husband by the coat-tail and drew him +down a step, while the daughters ranged themselves in semicircle around +him, spreading their skirts and together effacing him from view, much as +a hen covers her offspring. + +The Collector laughed inwardly as he replaced his hat, and rode on +speculating what this bit of by-play might mean. But it had passed out +of his thoughts before he came to the outskirts of the town. + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +ANOTHER SABBATH-BREAKER. + + +The road--the same by which he had arrived last night--mounted all the +way and led across the neck of the headland. His business, however, lay +out upon the headland itself and almost at its extremest verge; and a +mile above the town he struck off to the left where a bridle-path +climbed by a long slant to the ridge. Half an hour's easy riding +brought him to the top of the ascent, whence he looked down on the long +beach he had travelled yesterday. The sea lay spread on three sides of +him. Its salt breeze played on his face; and the bay horse, feeling the +tickle of it in his nostrils, threw up his head with a whinny. +"Good, old boy--is it not?" asked the Collector, patting his neck. +"Suppose we try a breather of it?" + +The chine of the headland--of turf, short-cropped by the unceasing +wind--stretched smooth as a racecourse for close upon a mile, with a +gentle dip midway much like the hollow of a saddle. The Collector ran +his eye along it in search of the two men he had come to meet, but could +spy neither of them. + +"Sheltering somewhere from the breeze, maybe," he decided. "_We_ don't +mind it, hey? Come along, lad--here's wine for heroes!" + +He touched Bayard with the spur, and the good horse started at a +gallop--a rollicking gallop and in the very tune of his master's mood; +and if all Port Nassau had not been at its devotions, the chins of its +burghers might have tilted themselves in wonder at the apparition--a +Centaur, enlarged upon the skyline. + +Man and horse at full stretch of the gallop were launching down the dip +of the hollow--the wind singing past on the top note of exhilaration-- +when the bay, too well trained to shy, faltered a moment and broke his +stride, as a figure started up from the lee-side of the ridge. + +The Collector sailing past and throwing a glance over his shoulder, saw +the figure and lifted a hand. In another ten strides he reined up +Bayard, turned, and came back at a walk. + +He confronted a lean, narrow-chested young man, black-suited, pale of +face, with watery eyes, straw-coloured eyelashes and an underbred smile +that twitched between timidity and assurance. + +"Ah?" queried the Collector, eyeing him and disliking him at sight. +"Are you "--doubtfully--"by any chance Mr. Wapshott, the Surveyor?" + +"No such luck," answered the watery-eyed young man with an offhand +attempt at familiarity. "I'm his Assistant--name of Banner--Wapshott's +unwell." + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Mr.--Mr. Wapshott--sends word that he's unwell." Under the Collector's +eye the youth suddenly shifted his manner and became respectful. + +"I beg your pardon?" the Collector repeated slowly. "He 'sends word,' +do you say? I had not the honour at my Inn--from which I have ridden +straight--to be notified of Mr. Wapshott's indisposition." + +Mr. Banner attempted a weak grin and harked back again to familiarity. + +"No, I guess not. The fact is--" + +"Excuse me; but would you mind taking your hands out of your pockets?" + +"Oh, come! Why?" But none the less Mr. Banner removed them. + +"Thank you. You were saying?" + +"Well, I guess, between you and me"--Mr. Banner's hands were slipping to +his pockets again but he checked the motion and rested a palm +nonchalantly on either hip--"the old man was a bit too God-fearing to +sign to it." + +"You mean," the Collector asked slowly, "that he is not, in fact, +unwell, but has asked you to convey an untruth?" + +"You've a downright way of putting it--er--sir" Mr. Banner confessed; +"but you get near enough, I shouldn't wonder. You see, the old--the +Surveyor is strict upon Lord's Day Observance." + +The Collector bent his brows slightly while he smoothed Bayard's mane. +Of a sudden the small scene by the Church porch recurred to him. +"Stay," he said. "I have not the pleasure of knowing Mr. Wapshott, but +may I attempt to describe him to you? He is, perhaps, a gentleman of +somewhat stunted growth, but of full habit, and somewhat noticeably red +between the ear and the neck-stock?" + +"That hits him." + +"--with a wife inclining to portliness and six grown daughters, taller +than their parents and not precisely in their first bloom. I speak," +added the Collector, still eyeing his victim, "as to a man of the +world." + +"You've seen him anyhow," Mr. Banner nodded. "That's Wapshott." + +"I saw him entering his place of worship; and I note that he thinks what +you call the Lord's Day well worth keeping at the cost of a falsehood. +May I ask, Mr.--" The Collector hesitated. + +"Banner." + +"Ah, yes--pardon me! May I ask, Mr. Banner, how it comes that you have +a nicer sense than your superior of what is due to His Majesty's +Service?" + +Mr. Banner laughed uneasily. "Well, you mightn't guess it from my +looks," he answered with an attempt to ingratiate himself by way of +self-deprecation, "but I am pretty good at working out levels. I really +am." + +"That was not my point, though I shall test you on it presently. +You are, it appears, a somewhat less rigid Sabbatarian than Mr. +Wapshott?" + +Hereupon Mr. Banner became cryptic. "You needn't fear about that," he +answered. "I have what they call a dispensation; and until you startled +me, I was up here keeping the Lord's Day as well as the best of 'em. +Better, perhaps." + +"We will get to business," said the Collector. "Follow me, please." + +He wheeled his horse and, with Mr. Banner walking at his stirrup, rode +slowly out to the end of the headland and as slowly back. The Collector +asked a question now and then and to every question the young man +responded pat. He was no fool. It soon appeared that he had studied +the trajectory of guns, that he had views--and sound ones--on coast +defences, and that by some study of the subject he had come, a while +ago, to a conclusion the Collector took but a few minutes to endorse; +that to build a fort on this headland would be waste of public money. + +Professionally, Mr. Banner was tolerable. The Collector, consulting +with him, forgot the pertness of his address, the distressing twang of +his accent. He had dismounted, and the pair were busy with a tape, +calling out and checking measurements, when from the southward there was +borne to the Collector's ears the distant crack of a shot-gun. + +At the sound of it he glanced up, in time to see Mr. Banner drop the +other end of the tape and run. Almost willy-nilly he followed, vaguely +wondering if there had happened some accident that called for aid. + +Mr. Banner, when the Collector overtook him, had come to a halt +overlooking the long beach, and pointed to a figure--a speck almost--for +it was distant more than a mile. + +"That Josselin girl!" panted Mr. Banner. "I call you to witness!" + +The Collector unstrapped his field-glass, which he carried in a +bandolier, adjusted it, and through it scanned the beach. Yes, in the +distant figure he recognised Ruth Josselin. She carried a gun--or +rather, stood with the gun grounded and her hands folded, resting on its +muzzle--and appeared to be watching the edge of the breakers, perhaps +waiting for them to wash to her feet a dead bird fallen beyond reach. + +"See her, do you? I call you to witness!" repeated the voice at his +elbow. + +"Why, what is the matter?" + +"Sabbath breakin'," answered Mr. Banner with a curious leer. + +"Ah!" + +"But you yourself don't take much account of the Lord's Day, seemingly. +Bathin', f'r instance." + +"Indeed!" The Collector eyed his companion reflectively. "You honoured +me with your observation this morning?" + +Mr. Banner grinned. "Better say the whole of Port Nassau was hon'rin' +you. Oh, there'd be no lack of evidence!--but I guess the magistrates +were lookin' the other way. They allowed, no doubt, that even a +Sabbath-breaker might be havin' friends at Court!" + +The Collector could not forbear smiling at the youth's impudence. + +"May I ask what punishment I have probably escaped by that advantage?" + +"Well," said Mr. Banner, "for lighter cases it's usually the stocks." + +Still the Collector smiled. "I am trying to picture it," said he, after +a pause. "But you don't tell me they would put a young girl in the +stocks, merely for firing a gun on the Lord's Day, as you call it?" + +"Wouldn't they!" Mr. Banner chuckled. "That, or the pillory." + +"You are a strange folk in Port Nassau." The Collector frowned, upon a +sudden suspicion, and his eyes darkened in their scrutiny of Mr. +Banner's unpleasant face. "By the way, you told me just now that you +were here upon some sort of a dispensation. Forgive me if I do you +wrong, but was it by any chance that you might play the spy upon this +girl?" + +"Shadbolt asked me to keep an eye liftin' for her." + +"Who is Shadbolt?" + +"The Town Beadle. He's watchin' somewhere along the cliffs." +Mr. Banner waved a hand towards the neck of the headland. +"It's a scandal, and by all accounts has been goin' on for weeks." + +"So that is why you called me to witness? Well, Mr. Banner, I have a +horsewhip lying on the turf yonder, and I warn you to forget your +suggestion. . . . Shall we resume our measurements?--and, if you please, +in silence. Your presence is distasteful to me." + +They turned from the cliff and went back to their work, in which--for +they both enjoyed it--they were soon immersed. It may have been, too, +that the wind had shifted. At any rate they missed to hear, ten minutes +later, a second shot fired on the beach, not more distant but fainter +than the first. + + + +Chapter IX. + + +THE SCOURGE. + + +Next morning, at ten o'clock, the Collector's coach-and-six stood at the +Inn gate, harnessed up and ready for the return journey. In the +road-way beyond one of the grooms waited with a hand on Bayard's bridle. + +The Collector, booted and spurred, with riding-whip tucked under his +arm, came up the pebbled pathway, drawing on his gauntleted gloves. +Dicky trotted beside him. Manasseh followed in attendance. Behind them +in the porchway the landlady bobbed unregarded, like a piece of +clockwork gradually running down. + +"Hey!" The Collector, as he reached the gate, lifted his chin sharply-- +threw up his head as a finely bred animal scents battle or danger. +"What's this? A riot, up the street?" + +The grooms could not tell him, for the sound had reached their ears but +a second or two before the question; a dull confused murmur out of +which, as it increased to a clamour and drew nearer, sharper outcries +detached themselves, and the shrill voices of women. A procession had +turned the corner of the head of the avenue--a booing, howling rabble. + +The Collector stepped to his horse's rein, flung himself into saddle, +and rode forward at a foot's pace to meet the tumult. + +Suddenly his hand tightened on the rein, and Bayard came to a halt; but +his master did not perceive this. The hand's movement had been nervous, +involuntary. He sat erect--stood, rather, from the stirrup--his nostril +dilated, his brain scarcely believing what his eyes saw. + +"The swine!" he said slowly, to himself. His teeth were shut and the +words inaudible. "The swine!" he repeated. + +Men have done, in the name of religion and not so long ago--indeed are +perhaps doing now and daily--deeds so vile that mere decency cannot face +describing them. It is a question if mere decency (by which I mean the +good instinct of civilised man) will not in the end purge faith clean of +religion; if, while men dispute and hate and inflict cruelty for +religion, they are not all the while outgrowing it. Libraries, for +example, are written to prove that unbaptized infants come out of +darkness to draw a fleeting breath or two and pass to hell-fire; the +dispute occupies men for generations--and lo! one day the world finds it +has no use for any such question. Time--no thanks to the theologians-- +has educated it, and this thing at any rate it would no longer believe +if it could, as it certainly cannot. Faith never yet has burnt man or +woman at the stake. Religion has burnt its tens of thousands. + +Behind the first two or three ranks of the mob--an exultant mob of grown +men, grown women, and (worst of all) little children--plodded a grey +horse, drawing a cart. Behind the cart, bound to it, with a thong tight +about her fire-scorched wrists--But no; it is not to be written. + +They had stripped her to the waist, and then for decency--_their_ +decency!--had thrown a jacket of coarse sacking over her, lacing it +loosely in front with pack-thread. But, because their work required it, +this garment had been gathered up into a rope at the neck, whence it +dangled in folds over her young breast. + +She walked with wide eyes, uttering no sound. She alone of that crowd +uttered no sound. A brute with a bandaged jaw walked close behind her. +Oliver Vyell saw his forearm swing up--saw the scourge whirl in his +fist--met the girl's eyes. . . . She, meeting his, let escape the +first and last cry she uttered that day. He could have sworn that +her face was scarlet; but no, he was wrong; while he looked he saw +his mistake-she was white as death. Then with that one pitiful cry +she sank among the close-pressing crowd; but her hands, by the cord's +constraint, still lifted themselves as might a drowning swimmer's; +and the grey horse--the one other innocent creature in that +procession--plodded forward, dragging her now senseless body at the +cart's tail. + +"You swine!" + +It does a man good sometimes to get in his blow. It did Oliver Vyell +good, riding in, to slash twice crosswise on the brute's bandaged face; +to feel the whalebone bite and then, as he swung out of saddle, to ram +fist and whip-butt together on the ugly mouth, driving in its +fore-teeth. + +"Stop the horse, some one!" he commanded, as the Beadle reeled back. +"She has fainted." He added, "The first man that interferes, I shoot." + +The crowd growled. He turned on the nearest mutterer--"Your knife!" +The fellow handed it; so promptly, he might have been holding it ready +to proffer. The Collector stooped and cut the thongs. This done, he +stood up and saw the Beadle advancing again, snarling through the +bloody gap in his mouth. + +"You had best take that man away," said the Collector quietly, pulling +out his small pistol. "If you don't, I am going to kill him." +They heard and saw that he meant it. He added in the same tone, +"I am going to take all responsibility for this. Will you make way, +please?" + +His first intention was to lift the body lying unconscious in the +roadway, carry it to the coach and drive out of Port Nassau with it, +defying the law to interfere. For the moment he "saw red," as we say +nowadays, and was quite capable of shooting down, or bidding his +servants shoot down, any man who offered to hinder. It is even possible +that had he acted straightway upon the impulse, he might, with his +momentary mastery of the mob, have won clean away; possible, but by no +means likely, for already a couple of constables were pushing forward to +support the Beadle, and half a dozen broad-shouldered fellows--haters of +"prerogative"--had recovered themselves and were ranging up to support +the law. Had he noted this, it would not have daunted him. What he +noted, and what gave him pause, was the girl's white back at his feet, +upturning its hideous weals. He stooped to lift her, and drew back, +shivering delicately at the thought of hurting the torn flesh in his +arms--a vain scruple, since she had passed for the moment beyond pain. +He picked up the scourge, and stood erect again, crushing it into his +pocket. + +"Will you make way, please," he ordered, "while I fetch a cover to hide +your blasted handiwork?" + +He strode through them, and they fell back to give him passage. +He walked straight to the coach, pulled the door open, and, in the act +of dragging forth a rug, caught sight of Dicky's small, scared face. + +"Oh papa, what has happened?" + +"An accident, child. Jump inside; I will explain by-and-by." + +"Begging your Honour's pardon"--a heavy-featured fellow, who had +followed the Collector to the coach, put out a hand and touched the +child's shoulder--"I don't hold in whipping maidens, and if it's a fight +I'm with you. But you can't carry her out of it, the way you're +meaning. They've seen blood, same as yourself. This child of yours--he +stands as much chance to be hurt as any, if you push it. Your Honour'll +have to find some other way." + +The Collector glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the man spoke +truth. + +"Dicky," he said easily, but in a voice the child durst not disobey, +"there has been an accident. Go you down and amuse yourself on the +sands till Manasseh calls you." + +He walked back coolly, carrying the rug on his arm. + +"Where was she to be taken?" he asked. + +"To the stocks!" answered a voice or two. "To the Court-house!" said +others. + +"It's the same thing," said the heavy-browed man, at the Collector's +elbow. "The stocks are just across the square from the Court-house. +You'll find the magistrates there; they're the ones to face. They took +her case first this morning, and this is the first part of her +sentence." + +Oliver Vyell walked back to the crowd. It was--a glance assured him-- +more hostile than before; had recovered from its surprise, and was +menacing. But it gave way again before him. + +He called on them to give more room. He stooped and, spreading the rug +over the girl's body, lifted and laid her in the straw of the cart. +A constable would have interfered. The Collector swung round on him. + +"You are taking her back to the Court-house? Well, I have business +there too. Where is your Court-house?" + +The constable pointed. + +"Up the road? I am obliged to you. Drive on, if you please." + + + +Chapter X. + + +THE BENCH. + + +The wooden Jail and the wooden Court-house of Port Nassau faced one +another across an unpaved grass-grown square planted with maples. +To-day--for the fall of the leaf was at hand--these maples flamed with +hectic yellows and scarlets; and indeed thousands of leaves, stripped by +the recent gales, already strewed the cross-walks and carpeted the +ground about the benches disposed in the shade--pleasant seats to which, +of an empty afternoon, wives brought their knitting and gossiped while +their small children played within sight; haunts, later in the day, of +youths who whittled sticks or carved out names with jack-knives--ancient +solace of the love-stricken; rarely thronged save when some transgressor +was brought to the stocks or the whipping-post. + +These instruments of public discipline stood on the northern side of the +square, before the iron-studded door of the Jail. The same hand, may +be, that had blackened over the Jail's weather-boarded front with a coat +of tar, had with equal propriety whitewashed the facade of the +Court-house; an immaculate building, set in the cool shade, its +straight-lined front broken only by a recessed balcony, whence, as +occasion arose, Mr. George Bellingham, Chief Magistrate, delivered the +text of a proclamation, royal or provincial, or declared the poll when +the people of Port Nassau chose their Selectmen. + +This morning Mr. Bellingham held session within, in the long, airy +Court-room, and dispensed justice with the help of three +fellow-magistrates--Mr. Trask, Mr. Somershall, and our friend +Mr. Wapshott. They sat at a long baize-covered table, with the +Justices' Clerk to advise them. On the wall behind and above their +heads hung a framed panel emblazoned with the royal escutcheon, the lion +and unicorn for supporters, an inscription in old French to the effect +that there is shame in evil-thinking, and another:-- + + CAR II. + + + FID DEF. + +distributed among the four corners of the panel, with the date 1660 +below. This had been erected (actually in 1664, but the artist had +received instructions to antedate it) when the good people of +Massachusetts after some demur rejoiced in the Restoration and accepted +King Charles II. as defender of their Faith. + +The four magistrates had dealt (as we know) with a case of +Sabbath-breaking; had inflicted various terms of imprisonment on two +drunkards and a beggar-woman; had discharged for lack of evidence (but +with admonition) a youth accused of profane swearing; and were now +working through a list of commoner and more venial offences, such as +cheating by the use of false weights. + +These four grave gentlemen looked up in slightly shocked deprecation; +for the Collector entered without taking account of the constable at the +door, save to thrust him aside. The Clerk called "Silence in the +Court!" mechanically, and a deputy-beadle at his elbow as mechanically +repeated it. + +"Your Worships"--the Collector, hat in hand advanced to the table and +bowed--"will forgive an interruption which only its urgency can excuse." + +"Ah! Captain Vyell, I believe?" Mr. Bellingham arose from his +high-backed throne of carved oak, bowed, and extended a hand across the +table. "I had heard that you were honouring Port Nassau with a visit; +but understanding from our friend Mr. Wapshott that the visit was--er-- +not official--that, in fact, it was connected with government business +not--er--to be divulged, I forbore to do myself the pleasure--" +Mr. Bellingham had a courtly manner and a courtly presence. He was a +tallish man, somewhat thin in the face and forehead, of classical +features, and a sanguine complexion. He came of a family highly +distinguished in the history of Massachusetts; but he was in fact a weak +man, though he concealed this by some inherited aptitude for public +business and a well-trained committee manner. + +"I thank you." The Collector shook the preferred hand and bowed again. +"You will pardon my abruptness? A girl has fainted outside here, in the +street--" + +Mr. Bellingham's well-shaped brows arched themselves a trifle higher. + +"Indeed?" he murmured, at a loss. + +"A young girl who--as I understand--was suffering public punishment +under sentence of yours." + +"Yes?" Mr. Bellingham's smile grew vaguer, and his two hands touched +finger-tips in front of his magisterial stomach--an adequate stomach but +well on the right side of grossness. He glanced at his +fellow-magistrates right and left. "It--er---sometimes happens," he +suggested. + +"I dare say." Captain Vyell took him up. "But she has fainted under the +punishment. She has passed the limit of her powers, poor child; and +they tell me that what she has endured is to be followed, and at once, +by five hours in the stocks. Gentlemen, I repeat I am quite well aware +that this is most irregular--you may call it indecent; but I saw the +poor creature fall, and, as it happens, I know something that might have +softened you before you passed sentence." + +Here the Clerk interposed, stiffening the Chief Magistrate, who wore a +smile of embarrassed politeness. + +"As His Honour--as Captain Vyell--suggests, your Worships, this is quite +irregular." + +"To be sure--to be sure--of course," hemm'd Mr. Bellingham. "We can +only overlook that, when appealed to by a person of your distinction;" +here he inclined himself gently. "Still, you will understand, a +sentence is a sentence. As for a temporary faintness, that is by no +means outside our experience. Our Beadle--Shadbolt--invariably manages +to revive them sufficiently to endure--er--the rest." + +I'll be shot if he will this time, thought the Collector grimly, with a +glance down at a smear across the knuckle of his right-hand glove. +The sight of it cheered him and steadied his temper. "Possibly," said +he aloud. "But your worships may not be aware--and as merciful men may +be glad to hear--that this poor creature's offence against the Sabbath +was committed under stress. Her mother and grandfather have starved +this week through, as I happen to know." + +"That may or may not be," put in Mr. Trask--a dry-complexioned, +stubborn, malignant-looking man, seated next on the Chairman's right. +"But the girl--if you mean Ruth Josselin--has not been scourged for +Sabbath-breaking. For that she will sit in the stocks--our invariable +sentence for first offenders in this respect." From under his +down-drawn brows Mr. Trask eyed the Collector malevolently. +"Ruth Josselin," he continued, "has suffered the scourge for having +resisted Beadle Shadbolt in the discharge of his duty, and for unlawful +wounding." + +"Excuse me," put in Mr. Somershall, speaking across from the Chairman's +left. Mr. Somershall was afflicted with deafness, but liked to assert +himself whenever a word by chance reached him and gave him a cue. +He leaned sideways, arching a palm around his one useful ear. +"Excuse me; we brought it in 'attempted wounding,' I believe? I have it +noted so, here on the margin of my charge-sheet." He glanced at the +Clerk, who nodded for confirmation. + +"It didn't matter," Mr. Trask snapped brutally. "She got it, just the +same." + +"Oh, quite so!" Mr. Somershall took his hand from his ear and nodded, +satisfied with having made his point. + +"Wounding?" echoed the Collector, addressing the Chairman. "To be frank +with you, sir, I had not heard of this--though it scarcely affects my +plea." + +Mr. Bellingham smiled indulgently. "Say no more, Captain Vyell--pray +say no more! This is not the first time an inclination to deem us +severe has been corrected by a fuller acquaintance with the facts. . . . +Yes, yes--chivalrous feeling--I quite understand; but you see--" +He concluded his sentence with a gentle wave of the hand. "You will be +glad to hear, since you take an interest in the girl, that Providence +overruled her aim and Shadbolt escaped with a mere graze of the jaw--so +slight, indeed, that, taking a merciful view, we decided not to consider +it an actual wound, and convicted her only of the attempt. By the way, +Mr. Leemy, where is the weapon?" + +The Clerk produced it from his bag and laid it on the table. +Captain Vyell drew a sharp breath. + +"It is my pistol." + +"Eh?" + +"I have the fellow to it here." He pulled out the other and handed it +by the muzzle. + +"To be sure--to be sure; the pattern is identical," murmured Mr. +Bellingham, examining it and for the moment completely puzzled. +"You--er--suggest that she stole it?" + +"Certainly not. I lent it to her." + +There followed a slow pause. It was broken by the grating voice of Mr. +Trask-- + +"You remember, Mr. Chairman, that the prisoner stubbornly refused to +tell how the pistol came in her possession? Does Captain Vyell give us +to understand that his interest in this young woman is of older date +than this morning's encounter?" + +"My interest in her--such as it is--dates, sir, from the evening before +last, when she was dismissed from the Bowling Green Inn. The hour was +late; her home, as you know, lies at some distance--though doubtless +within the ambit of your authority. I lent her this small weapon to +protect herself should she be molested." + +"And she used it next day upon the Beadle! Dismissed, you say? Why was +she dismissed?" + +"I regret that I was not more curious at the time," answered the +Collector with the politest touch of weariness. "I believe it was for +saving the house from fire--something of that sort. As told to me, it +sounded rather heroical. But, sir--" he turned again to the Chairman--" +I suggest that all this does not affect my plea. Whatever her offence, +she has suffered cruelly. She is physically unfit to bear this second +punishment; and when I tell you on my word as a gentleman--or on oath, +if you will--that on Saturday I found her grandparent starving and that +her second offence was committed presumably to supply the household +wants, surely I shall not entreat your mercy in vain?" + +The Chief Magistrate hesitated, and a frown showed his annoyance. +"To tell you the truth, Captain Vyell, you put me in a quandary. +I do not like to refuse you--" Here he glanced right and left. + +"But it can't be done," snapped Mr. Trask. Mr. Wapshott, sitting just +beyond, shook his head gently and--as he hoped--unperceived by the +Collector. + +"You see, sir," explained Mr. Bellingham with a sigh, "we sit here to +administer justice without fear or favour. You see also to what scandal +it might give rise if a culprit--merely on the intercession of a +gentleman like yourself--influential--er--and, in short--" + +"--In short, sir," the Collector broke in, "you have in the name of +justice committed one damnable atrocity upon this child, and plead your +cowardice as an excuse for committing another. Influential, am I? +And you prate to me of not being affected by that? Very well; I'll take +you at your word. This girl resisted your ruffian in the discharge of +his duty? So did I just now, and with such effect that he will resume +it neither to-day nor to-morrow. She inflicted, it appears, a slight +graze on his chin. I inflicted two cuts on his face and knocked in +three of his teeth. You can take cognisance of _my_ wounding, I promise +you. Now, sir, will you whip _me_ through your town?" + +"This is mere violence, sir." Mr. Bellingham's face was flushed, but he +answered with dignity. "The law is as little to be exasperated as +defied." + +"I will try you in another way, then," said the Collector, recovering +grip of his temper and dropping his voice to a tone of politest +insolence. "It is understood that you have not the courage to do this +because, seated here and administering what you call justice, you have, +each one of you, an eye upon England and preferment, and you know well +enough that to touch me would play the devil among the tailors with your +little ambitions. I except"--with a bow towards Mr. Trask--"this +gentleman, who seems to have earned his influence on your counsels by +rugged force of character, And--" for here Mr. Trask, who enjoyed a dig +at his colleagues, cast his eyes down and compressed a grin--"is, I +should judge, capable of striking a woman for the mere fun of it." +Here Mr. Bellingham and Mr. Wapshott looked demure in turn; for that +Mr. Trask led his wife a dog's life was notorious. + +"--In truth, gentlemen," the Collector continued easily, "I am at some +loss in addressing you, seeing that through some defect of courtesy you +have omitted to wait on me, albeit informed (I believe) that I came as +His Majesty's Commissioner, and that therefore I have not even the +pleasure of knowing your names. I may except that of Mr. Wapshott, whom +I am glad to see convalescent this morning." Here he inclined to Mr. +Wapshott, whose gills under the surprised gaze of his colleagues took a +perceptibly redder tinge. "Mr. Wapshott, gentlemen," explained the +Collector, smiling, "had a slight attack of vertigo yesterday, on the +steps of his Place of Worship. Well, sirs, as I was saying, I will try +you in another way. You have not the courage to bring me to trial for +assaulting your beadle. You have not even the courage, here and now, to +throw me out. I believe, however, that upon a confessed breach of the +law--supported by evidence, if necessary--I can force you to try me. +The Clerk will correct me if I am wrong. . . . Apparently he assents. +Then I desire to confess to you that yesterday, at such-and-such an +hour, I broke your laws or bye-laws of Lord's Day Observance; by bathing +in the sea for my pleasure. I demand trial on this charge, and, if you +convict me--here you can hardly help yourselves, since to my knowledge +some of you witnessed the offence--I demand my due punishment of the +stocks." + +"Really--really, Captain Vyell!" hemm'd the Chief Magistrate. +"Passing over your derogatory language, I am at a loss to understand--" + +"Are you? Yet it is very simple. Since you reject my plea for this +poor creature, I desire to share her punishment." + +"Let him," snapped the mouth of Mr. Trask again, opening and shutting +like a trap. + +"_You_ at any rate, sir, have sense," the Collector felicitated him and +turned to the Chief Magistrate. "And you, sir, if you will oblige me, +may rest assured that I shall bear the magistracy of Port Nassau no +grudge whatever." + + + +Chapter XI. + + +THE STOCKS. + + +In the end they came to a compromise. That Dame Justice should be +hustled in this fashion--taken by the shoulders, so to speak, forced to +catch up her robe and skip--offended the Chief Magistrate's sense of +propriety. It was unseemly in the last degree, he protested. +Nevertheless it appeared certain that Captain Vyell had a right to be +tried and punished; and the Clerk's threat to set down the hearing for +an adjourned sessions was promptly countered by the culprit's producing +His Majesty's Commission, which enjoined upon all and sundry "_to +observe the welfare of my faithful subject, Oliver John Dinham de Courcy +Vyell, now travelling on the business of this my Realm, and to further +that business with all zeal and expedition as required by him_"--a +command which might be all the more strictly construed for being loosely +worded. To be sure the Court might by dilatory process linger out the +hearing of the Weights and Measures cases--one of which was being +scandalously interrupted at this moment--or it might adjourn for dinner +and reassemble in the afternoon, by which time the sands of Ruth +Josselin's five hours' ignominy would be running out. But here Mr. +Somershall had to be reckoned with. Mr. Somershall not only made it a +practice to sit long at dinner and sleep after it; he invariably lost +his temper if the dinner-hour were delayed; and, being deaf as well as +honest, he was capable of blurting out his mind in a fashion to confound +either of these disingenuous courses. As for Mr. Wapshott, the wording +of the Commission had frightened him, and he wished himself at home. + +It was Mr. Trask who found the way out. Mr. Trask, his malevolent eye +fixed on the Collector, opined that after all an hour or two in the +stocks would be a salutary lesson for hot blood and pampered flesh. +He suggested that, without insisting on a trial, the Captain might be +obliged, and his legs given that lesson. He cited precedents. +More than once a friend or relative had, by mercy of the Court, been +allowed to sit beside a culprit under punishment. If, a like leave +being granted him, Captain Vyell preferred to have his ankles +confined--why, truly, Mr. Trask saw no reason for denying him the +experience. But the Captain, it was understood, must give his word of +honour, first, to accept this as a free concession from the Bench, and, +secondly, not to repent or demand release before the expiry of the five +hours. + +"With all my heart," promised Captain Vyell; and the Chief Magistrate +reluctantly gave way. + + +Ruth Josselin sat in the stocks. She had come so far out of her swoon +that her pulse beat, her breath came and went, she felt the sun warm on +her face, and was aware of some pain where the edge of the wood pressed +into her flesh, a little above the ankle-bones--of discomfort, rather, +in comparison with the anguish throbbing and biting across her +shoulder-blades. Some one--it may have been in unthinking mercy--had +drawn down the sackcloth over her stripes, and the coarse stuff, +irritating the raw, was as a shirt of fire. + +She had come back to a sense of this torture, but not yet to complete +consciousness. She sat with eyes half closed, filmed with suffering. +As they had closed in the moment of swooning, so and with the same look +of horror they awoke as the lids parted. But they saw nothing; neither +the sunlight dappling the maple shadows nor the curious faces of the +crowd. She felt the sunlight; the crowd's presence she felt not at all. + +But misery she felt; a blank of misery through which her reviving soul-- +like the shoot of a plant trodden into mire--pushed feebly towards the +sunlight that coaxed her eyes to open. Something it sought there . . . +a face . . . yes, a face. . . . + +--Yes, of course, a face; lifted high above other faces that were +hateful, hostile, mocking her misery--God knew why; a strong face, not +very pitiful--but so strong!--and yet it must be pitiful too, for it +condescended to help. It was moving down, bending, to help. . . . + +--What had become of it? . . . Ah, now (shame at length reawakening) she +remembered! She was hiding from him. He was strong, he was kind, but +above all he must not see her shame. Let the earth cover her and hide +it! . . . and either the merciful earth had opened or a merciful +darkness had descended. She remembered sinking into it--sinking--her +hands held aloft, as by ropes. Then the ropes had parted. . . . +She had fallen, plumb. . . . + +She was re-emerging now; and either shame lay far below, a cast-off weed +in the depths, or shame had driven out shame as fire drives out fire. +Her back was burning; her tongue was parched; her eyes were seared as +they half opened upon the crowd. The grinning faces--the mouths pulled +awry, mocking a sorrow they did not understand--these were meaningless +to her. She did not, in any real sense, behold them. Her misery was a +sea about her, and in the trough of it she looked up, seeking one face. + +--And why not? It had shone far above her as a god's; but she had been +sucked down as deep again, and there is an extreme of degradation may +meet even a god's altitude on equal terms. Stark mortal, stark god--its +limit of suffering past, humanity joins the celestial, clasping its +knees. + +Of a sudden, turning her eyes a little to the left, she saw him. + +He had come at a strolling pace across the square, with Manasseh and the +deputy-beadle walking wide beside him, and the Court-house rabble at his +heels, but keeping, in spite of themselves, a respectful distance. +At the stocks he faced about, and they halted on the instant, as though +he had spoken a word of command. He smiled, seated himself leisurably +at the end of the bench on Ruth Josselin's left, and extended a leg for +Manasseh to draw off its riding-boot. At the back of the crowd a few +voices chattered, but within the semicircle a hush had fallen. + +It was then that she turned her eyes and saw him. + +How came he here? What was he doing? . . . She could not comprehend at +all. Only she felt her heart leap within her and stand still, as like a +warm flood the consciousness of his presence stole through her, poured +over her, soothing away for the moment all physical anguish. She sat +very still, her hands in her lap; afraid to move, afraid even to look +again. This consciousness--it should have been shame, but it held no +shame at all. It was hope. It came near, very near, to bliss. + +She was aware in a dull way of some one unlocking and lifting the upper +beam of the stocks. Were they releasing her? Surely her sentence had +been for five hours?--surely her faintness could not have lasted so +long! This could not be the end? She did not wish to be released. +She would not know what to do, where to go, when they set her free. +She must walk home through the town, and that would be worst of all. + +Or perhaps _he_ was commanding them to release her? . . . No; the beam +creaked and dropped into place again. A moment ago his voice had been +speaking; speaking very cheerfully, not to her. Now it was silent. +After some minutes she gathered courage to turn her eyes again. + +Captain Vyell sat with his legs in durance. They were very shapely +legs, cased in stockings of flesh-coloured silk with crimson knee-ties. +He sat in perfect patience, and rolled a tobacco-leaf between his +fingers. At his shoulder stood Manasseh like a statue, with face +immobile as Marble--black marble--and a tinder-box ready in his hand. + +"Why? . . ." + +He could not be sure if it were a word, or merely a sigh, deep in her +breast, so faintly it reached him. She had murmured it as if to +herself, yet it seemed to hang on a question. His ear was alert. + +"Hush!" he said, speaking low and without glancing towards her, for the +eyes of the crowd were on them. "The faintness is over?" + +"Yes." + +"Do not talk at all. By-and-by we will talk. Now I am going to ask you +a selfish question, and you are just to bend your head for 'yes' or +'no.' Will the smell of tobacco distress you, or bring the faintness +back? These autumn flies sting abominably here, under the trees." + +She moved her head slowly. "I do not feel them," she said after a +while. + +He glanced at her compassionately before nodding to Manasseh for a +light. "No, poor wretch, I'll be sworn you do not," he muttered between +the puffs. "Thank you, Manasseh; and now will you step down to the Inn, +order the horses back to stable, and bring George and Harry back with +you? I may require them to break a head or two here, if there should be +trouble. Tell Alexander"--this was the coachman--"to have an eye on +Master Dicky, and see that he gets his dinner. The child is on no +account to come here, or be told about this. His papa is detained on +business--you understand? Yes, and by the way, you may extract a book +from the valise--the Calderon, for choice, or if it come handier, that +second volume of Corneille. Don't waste time, though, in searching for +this or that. In the stocks I've no doubt a book is a book: the +instrument has a reputation for levelling." + +Manasseh departed on his errand, and for a while the Collector paid no +heed to his companion. He and she were now unprotected, at the mercy of +the mob if it intended mischief; and the next few minutes would be +critical. + +He sat immersed apparently in his own thoughts, and by the look on his +face these were serious thoughts. He seemed to see and yet not to see +the ring of faces; to be aware of them, yet not concerned with them, no +whit afraid and quite as little defiant. True, he was smoking, but +without a trace of affected insouciance or bravado; gravely rather, +resting an elbow on his groin and leaning forward with a preoccupied +frown. Two minutes passed in this silence, and he felt the danger +ebbing. Mob insolence ever wants a lead, and--perhaps because with the +return of fine weather the fishing-crews had put to sea early--this Port +Nassau crowd lacked a fugleman. + + +"Are you here--because--of me?" + +"Hush, again," he answered quietly, not turning his head. "I like you +to talk if you feel strong enough; but for the moment it will be better +if they do not perceive. . . . Yes, and no," he answered her question +after a pause. "I am here to see that you get through this. You are in +pain?" + +"Yes; but it is easier." + +"You are afraid of these people?" + +"Afraid?" She took some time considering this. "No," she said at +length. "I am not afraid of them. I do not see them. You are here." + +He took the tobacco-leaf from his lips, blew a thin cloud of smoke with +grave deliberateness, and in doing so contrived to glance at her face. + +"You have blood in you. That face, too, my beauty," he muttered, +"never came to you but by gift of blood." Aloud he said, "That's brave. +But take care when your senses clear and the strain comes back on you. +Speak to me when you feel it coming; I don't want it to tauten you up +with a jerk. You understand?" + +"Yes. . . ." + +"I wonder now--" he began musingly, and broke off. The danger he had +been keeping account with was over; Manasseh had returned with the two +grooms, and they--perfectly trained servants on the English model--took +their posts without exhibiting surprise by so much as a twitch of the +face. George in particular was a tight fellow with his fists, as the +crowd, should it offer annoyance, would assuredly learn. The Collector +took the volume which Manasseh brought him, and opened it, but did not +begin to read. "You despise these people?" he asked. + +He was puzzled with himself. He was here to protect her; and this, from +him to her, implied a noble condescension. His fine manners, to be +sure, forbade his showing it; on no account would he have shown it. +But the puzzle was, he could not feel it. + +She met his eyes. "No . . . why should I despise them?" + +"They are _canaille_." + +"What does that mean? . . . They have been cruel to me. Afterwards, I +expect, they will be crueller still. But just now it does not matter, +because you are here." + +"Does that make so much difference?" he asked thoughtlessly. + +She caught her breath upon a sob. "Ah, do not--" The voice died, +strangled, in her throat. "Do not--" Again she could get no further, +but sat shivering, her fingers interlocked and writhing. + +"Brute!" muttered the Collector to himself. He did not ask her pardon, +but opened his Calderon, signed to Manasseh to roll a fresh +tobacco-leaf, and fell to reading his favourite _Alcalde de Zalamea_. + + +The sun crept slowly to the right over the tops of the maples. It no +longer scorched their faces, but slanted in rays through the upper +boughs, dappling the open walks with splashes of light which, as they +receded in distance, took by a trick of the eyesight a pattern regular +as diaper. By this time the Collector, when he glanced up from his +book, had an ample view of the square, for the crowd had thinned. +The punishment of the stocks was no such rare spectacle in Port Nassau; +and five hours is a tedious while even for the onlooker--a very long +while indeed to stand weighing the fun of throwing a handful of filth +against the cost of a thrashing. The men-folk, reasoning thus, had +melted away to their longshore avocations. The women, always more +patient--as to their nature the show was more piquant than to the +men's--had withdrawn with their knitting to benches well within +eyeshot. The children, playing around, grew more and more immersed in +their games; which, nevertheless, one or another would interrupt from +time to time to point and ask a question. Above the Court-house the +town clock chimed its quarters across the afternoon heat. + +The Collector, glancing up in the act of turning a page, spied Mr. Trask +hobbling down an alley towards the Jail. Mr. Trask, a martyr to gout, +helped his progress with an oaken staff. He leaned on this as he halted +before the stocks. + +"Tired?" he asked. + +"Damnably!" answered the Collector with great cheerfulness. "It takes +one in the back, you see. If ever the Town Fathers think of moving this +machine, you might put in a word for shifting it a foot or two back, +against the prison wall." + +Mr. Trask grinned. + +"I suppose now," he said after a pause, "you think you are doing a fine +thing, and doing it handsomely?" + +"I had some notion of the sort, but this confinement of the feet is +wonderfully cooling to the brain. No--if you dispute it. Most human +actions are mixed." + +Mr. Trask eyed him, chin between two fingers and thumb. When he spoke +again it was with lowered voice. "Is it altogether kind to the girl?" +he asked. + +"Eh?" The Collector in turn eyed Mr. Trask. + +"Or even quite fair to her?" + +"Oh, come!" said the Collector. "Tongues? I hadn't thought of that." + +"I dare say not." Mr. Trask glanced up at the windows of a two-storeyed +house on the left, scarcely a stone's throw away, a respectable mansion +with a verandah and neat gateway of wrought iron. "But at the end of +this what becomes of her?" + +The Collector shrugged his shoulders. "I have thought of _that_, at all +events. My coach will be here to take her home. It lies on my road. +As for me, I shall have to mount at once and ride through the night--a +second test for the back-bone." + +"Ride and be hanged to you!" broke out Mr. Trask with a snarl of scorn. +"But for the rest, if your foppery leave you any room to consider the +girl, you couldn't put a worse finish on your injury. Drive her off in +your coach indeed!--and what then becomes of her reputation?" + +"--Of what you have left to her, you mean? Damn it--_you_ to talk like +this!" + +"Do not be profane, Captain Vyell. . . . We see things differently, and +this punishment was meted to her--if cruelly, as you would say--still in +honest concern for her soul's good. But if you, a loose-living man--" +Mr. Trask paused. + +"Go on." + +"I thank you. For the moment I forgot that you are not at liberty. +But I used not that plainness of speech to insult you; rather because it +is part of the argument. If you, then, drive away with this child in +public, through this town, you do her an injury for which mere +carelessness is your best excuse; and the world will assign it a worse." + +"The world!" + +"I mean the world this young woman will have to live in. But we talk at +cross-purposes. When I asked, 'What becomes of her at the end of this?' +I was thinking of the harm you have already done. As a fact, I have +ordered my cart to be ready to take her home." + +Captain Vyell considered for a few seconds. "Sir," he said, "since +plain speech is allowed between us, I consider you a narrow bigot; but, +I hasten to add, you are the best man I have met in Port Nassau. By the +way--that house on our left--does it by chance belong to Mr. Wapshott?" + +"It does." + +"I thought so. For a couple of hours past, in the intervals of my +reading, I have discovered a family of tall young women peeking at us +from behind the windows and a barrier of furniture; and once, it seemed +to me, I detected the wattles of your worthy fellow-magistrate. +He ought not to strain that neck; you should warn him of the danger." + +"It should have warned you, sir, of what mischief you are doing." + +"I seem to remember," the Collector mused, "reading the words '_Honi +soit qui mal y pense_' to-day written on the wall behind you. . . . +Why, damn me, sir, for aught you or any of them can tell, I intend to +marry this girl! Why not? Go and tell them. Could there (you'll say) +be a fairer betrothal? The reputable plight their troth with a single +ring around the woman's finger; but here are four rings around the four +ankles, and the bar locked. With your leave, which is the more +symbolical?" + +"You are a reprobate man, Captain Vyell," was the answer, "and I have no +relish for your talk. I will only say this, When her punishment is +done, my cart shall be ready for her; and you, if you would vindicate an +action which--for I'll give you that credit--sprang from a generous +impulse, will go your ways and let this child live down her +humiliation." + + +Mr. Trask turned and went his way up the alley, across which the sun +made level rays of flame. The Collector sat in thought. + +He turned his head, surprised by the sound of a sob. A small child had +drawn near--a toddle of four, trailing her wooden doll with its head in +the dust--and stood a few paces in front of Ruth Josselin, round-eyed, +finger at mouth. + +"Steady, my girl. . . . Steady!" + +At the murmured warning she braced her body stiffly, and no second sob +came. But the tears ran--the first in all her long agony--and small +shivers, as light winds play on aspen, chased one another down her +throat. Almost you could guess them passing down her flesh beneath the +sackcloth, rippling over its torn and purple ridges. + +He did not check her weeping. The child--small, innocent cause of it-- +stood round-eyed, wondering. "She has been naughty. What has she done, +to be so naughty?" + +Over the maples the town clock slowly told the hour. + +They were free. The Collector tossed away the half-smoked +tobacco-leaf--his twelfth--drew a long breath, and emitted it with a gay +laugh of relief. At the same moment he saw Mr. Trask's bullock-cart +approaching down the dappled avenue. + + + +Chapter XII. + + +THE HUT BY THE BEACH. + + +"And you'll never hold up your head again! No more will any of us. +The disgrace of it! the disgrace of it!" + +Ruth stood in the middle of the wretched room, with her hands hanging +slack and her eyes bent wearily upon her mother, who had collapsed upon +a block of sawn timber, and sat there, with sack apron cast over her +head, rocking her body. + +"Hush, ye fool!" said old Josselin, and spat out of window. +Mechanically, by habit, his dim eyes swept along the beach by the +breakers' edge. "What's the use, any way?" he added. + +"We, that always carried ourselves so high, for all our being poor! +It's God's mercy that took your father before he could see this day. +'Twould have broken his sperrit. Your father a Josselin, and me a +Pocock, with lands of my own--if right was law in this world; and now to +be stripped naked and marched through the streets!" + +Ruth's eyes met the Collector's. He stood within the doorway, and was +regarding her curiously. She did not plead or protest; only, as their +eyes met, a flush rose to her cheek, and he guessed rightly that the +touch of shame was for her mother, not for herself. The flush deepened +as old Josselin turned and said apologetically,-- + +"You mustn't mind M'ria. She's weak-minded. Always was; but sence her +husband was drowned--he was my second son--she've lost whatever wits she +had. The gal here was born about that time." Here the old man launched +into some obstetrical guesswork, using the plainest words. +It embarrassed the Collector; the girl did not so much as wince. + +"Poor might be stood," moaned the woman; "but poor and shamed!" +Then of a sudden, as though recollecting herself, she arose with an air +of mincing gentility. "Ruth," she said, "it's little we can offer the +gentleman, but you _might_ get out the bread and cheese, after his being +so kind to you." + +"Sit down, you dormed fool," commanded her father-in-law. "Here, fetch +your seat over to the look-out, an' tell me if that's a log I see +floatin'. She's wonderful good at that," he explained, without lowering +his voice, "and it'll keep her quiet. It's true, though, what she said +about the property. Thousands of acres, if she had her rights--up this +side of the Kennebee." He jerked a thumb northwards. "The Pococks +bought it off one of the Gorges, gettin' on for a hundred years sence; +and by rights, as I say, a seventh share oughter be hers. But lawyers! +The law's like a ship's pump: pour enough in for a start, and it'll +reward ye with floods. But where's the money to start it?" + +The Collector scarcely heard him. His eyes were on Ruth's face. +He had walked briskly down from the Town Square to the Bowling Green +Inn, refreshed himself, let saddle his horse, and set forth, leaving +orders for his coach to follow. At the summit of the hill above Port +Nassau he had overtaken the cart with the poor girl lying in it, had +checked his pace to ride alongside, and so, disregarding Mr. Trask's +counsel, had brought her home. Nay, dismissing the men with a guinea +apiece, he had desired them to return to Mr. Trask and report his +conduct. + +"Listen to me," he said suddenly, checking Old Josselin in full flow. +"You say, both of you, that Ruth here will live under disgrace; and I +dare say you are right. Why not send her away? Get her out of this." + +The woman by the window turned her head with a vague simper. The old +man, building a small heap of chips on the hearthstone, distended his +cheeks and let out his breath slowly, as though coaxing a fire already +kindled. + +"All very well--but where? And where's the money to come from? +Besides, we can't spare the child; she vittles us. Dorm it, Ruth," he +exclaimed, on a sudden recollection, "you don't say you ha'n't brought +back the gun!" + +"No, grandfather." + +"Why? The magistrates would have given it back. It's ruination for us +without the gun, and that you might have remembered. Better step over +and ask 'em for it to-morrow." + +"Must I?" asked the girl slowly. + +"'Course you'll have to," said her grandparent. "_I_ can't walk the +distance, and that you know.--My eyesight's poor," he explained to the +Collector, "and I can't walk, because--" here he stated an organic +complaint very frankly. "As for M'ria, she's an eye like a fish-hawk; +but you never saw such a born fool with firearms. Well, must heat some +water, I reckon, to bathe the poor maid's back." + +"First give her food," said the Collector. He stepped forward and +himself cut her a large manchet from the loaf the old man produced. +She took it from him and ate ravenously, like a young wild animal, +tearing at the crust with her white teeth. "They haven't broken your +body's health, then," he thought to himself. Aloud he said, "You don't +quite take my meaning, Mr. Josselin, and I'll put it to you in a +straight offer. Let her come with me to Boston. She shall be put to +school there, say for three years; she shall live among folk who will +treat her kindly, and teach her at any rate to build up her spirit again +and be happy, as she will never be within these miles of Port Nassau; +and in return--" + +"Ah!" said the old man significantly. + +"In return you shall accept from me a decent pension--enough, at any +rate, to fend off want. We will not quarrel over the amount, up or +down. Or, if you prefer, I will get the lawyers to look into this claim +of your daughter-in-law's, and maybe make you an offer for it." + +"Ah!" repeated Old Josselin, and nodded. "Taken your eye, has she? +Oh, I'm not blamin' your lordship! Flesh will after flesh, and--you can +believe it or not--I was all for the women in my time." He chuckled, +and had added some gross particulars before the younger man could check +him. Yet the old fellow was so naif and direct that his speech left no +evil taste. He talked as one might of farm stock. "But we're decent +folk, we Josselins. It's hard to starve and be decent too, and times +enough I've been sorry for it; but decent we are." + +The Collector frowned. "Mr. Josselin," he answered, "I am offering you +to take your granddaughter away and have her educated. What that will +make of her I neither can tell you nor have I means of guessing; but +this I will undertake, and give you my word of honour for it: in three +years' time she shall come back to you in all honesty, unharmed by me or +by any one. By that time she will be a woman grown, able to decide as a +woman; but she shall come to you, nevertheless." + +The old man fumbled with a finger, scraping together the flakes of +touchwood in a tinder-box. + +"D'ye hear, M'ria? His Honour wants our Ruth to go along with him." + +The Collector glanced at the girl's face. Years after, and a hundred +times, he recalled the look with which she turned towards her mother. +At the same instant her mother faced about with a vacuous silly smile. + +"Eh?" + +"To larn to be a lady," Old Josselin explained, raising his voice as +though she were deaf. + +"That would be a fine thing," she answered mincingly, and returned her +gaze to the window and the line of shore. + + + +Chapter XIII. + + +RUTH SETS OUT. + + +Manasseh had wrapped Master Dicky up warm in a couple of rugs, and +spread a third about his feet. In the ample state seat of the coach the +child reclined as easily as in a bed. He began to doze while the +vehicle yet jolted over the road crossing the headland; and when it +gained the track, and the wheels rolled smoothly on the hard sand, the +motion slid him deep into slumber. + +He came out of it with a start and a catch of the breath, and for a full +half-minute lay with all his senses numbed, not so much scared as +bewildered. In his dreams he had been at home in Boston, and he +searched his little brain, wondering why he was awake, and if he should +call for Miss Quiney (who slept always within hail, in a small bedroom); +and why, when the night-nursery window lay to the left of his bed, +strange lights should be flashing on his right, where the picture of +King William landing at Torbay hung over his washstand. + +The lights moved to and fro, then they were quenched, and all was dark +about him. But he heard Manasseh's voice, some way off, in the +darkness, and the sound of it brought him to his bearings. He was in +the coach, he remembered; and realising this, he was instantly glad--for +he was a plucky child--that he had not called out to summon Miss Quiney. + +Had there been an accident? At any rate he was not hurt. His father +had ridden on ahead, and would reach home many hours in advance. +The boy had learnt this from Manasseh. He reasoned that, if an accident +had happened, his father would not hear of it--would be riding +forward, further and further into the night. He wondered how Manasseh +and the grooms would manage without his father, who always gave the +orders and was never at a loss. + +He sat up, peering out into the night. He was still peering thus, +building hasty wild guesses, when again a light showed, waving as it +drew nearer. It came close; it was one of the coach-lamps, and blazed +full into his eyes through the window. The door opened, letting in the +roar of the beach and smiting his small nostrils with sea-brine, that +with one breath purged away the stuffy scent of leather. + +Manasseh was handing some one into the coach. + +"De child--Mas' Richard--if you'll tak' care, miss. He's fas' asleep, +prob'ly." + +"But I'm _not_," said Dicky, sitting bolt upright and gathering his rugs +about him. "Who is it?" + +Manasseh perhaps did not hear. He made no reply, at any rate, but +turned the lamp full on Ruth Josselin as she sank back against the +cushions on Dicky's right. + +"You will find plenty rugs, miss." + +He shut the door. Dicky, holding his breath, heard him replace the lamp +in its socket, and felt the soft tilt of his great weight as he climbed +to the perch behind. + +"R--right away!" + +There was a tug, and the great coach rolled forward. In the darkness +Dicky caught the sound of a smothered sob. + +"Who are you?" he asked. There was no response, and after a moment he +added, "I know. You are the girl who put out the fire. I like you." + +He was very sleepy. He wondered why she did not answer; but, his +childish instinct assuring him that she was a friend, in his somnolence +he felt nothing other than trust in her. He nestled close in his rugs +and reached out an arm. + +It rubbed across the weals on Ruth's back, and was torture. +She clenched her teeth, while tears--tears of physical anguish, +irrepressible--over-brimmed her lashes and fell uncounted in the +darkness. + +"You are crying. Why? I like you." The child's voice trailed off into +dream. + +"Closer!" whispered Ruth, and would have forced the embrace upon her +pain; but it relaxed. Dicky's head fell sideways, and rested, angled +between the cushions and her shoulder. + +She sat wide-eyed, staring into folds of darkness, while the coach +rolled forward smoothly towards the dawn. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + + +PROBATION. + + + + +Chapter I. + + +AFTER TWO YEARS. + + +"Come down and play!" + +Ruth, looking down from the open lattice, smiled and shook her head. +"I must not; I'm doing my lessons." + +"Must not!" mimicked Master Dick. "You're getting stupider and +stupider, living up here. If you don't look out, one of these days +you'll turn into an old maid--just like Miss Quiney." + +"Hs-s-sh! She's downstairs somewhere." + +"I don't care if she hears." Dicky ran his eyes defiantly along the line +of ground-floor windows under the verandah, then upturned his face +again. "After coming all this way on purpose to play with you," he +protested. + +"You have made yourself dreadfully hot." + +"I _am_ hot," the boy confessed. "I gave Piggy the slip at the foot of +the hill, and I've run every step of the way." + +"Is _he_ here?" Ruth glanced nervously toward a clump of elms around +which the path from the entrance-gate curved into view. "But you +oughtn't to call Mr. Silk 'Piggy,' you know. It--it's ungentlemanly." + +"Why, I took the name from you! You said yourself, one day, that he was +a pig; and so he is. He has piggy eyes, and he eats too much, and +there's something about the back of his neck you must have noticed." + +"It's cruel of you, Dicky, to remember and cast up what I said when I +knew no better. You know how hard I am learning: in the beginning you +helped me to learn." + +"Did I?" mused Dicky. "Then I wish I hadn't, if you're going to grow up +and treat me like this. Oh, very well," he added stoutly after a pause, +"then I'm learning too, learning to be a sailor; and it'll be first-rate +practice to climb aloft to you, over the verandah. You don't mind my +spitting on my hands? It's a way they have in the Navy." + +"Dicky, don't be foolish! Think of Miss Quiney's roses." Finding him +inexorable, Ruth began to parley. "I don't want to see Mr. Silk. +But if I come down to you, it will not be to play. We'll creep off to +the Well, or somewhere out of hail, and there you must let me read--or +perhaps I'll read aloud to you. Promise?" + +"What're you reading?" + +"The Bible." + +Dicky pulled a face. "Well, the Bible's English, anyway," he said +resignedly. The sound of a foreign tongue always made him feel +pugnacious, and it was ever a question with him how, as a gentleman, to +treat a dead language. Death was respectable, but had its own +obligations; obligations which Greek and Latin somehow ignored. + + +The house, known as Sabines, stood high on the slope of the midmost of +Boston's three hills, in five acres of ground well set with elms. +Captain Vyell had purchased the site some five years before, and had +built himself a retreat away from the traffic that surged about his +official residence by the waterside. Of its raucous noises very few-- +the rattle of a hawser maybe, or a boatswain's whistle, or the yells of +some stentorian pilot--reached to penetrate the belt of elms surrounding +the house and its green garth; but the Collector had pierced this +woodland with bold vistas through which the eye overlooked Boston +harbour with its moving panorama of vessels, the old fort then standing +where now stands the Navy Yard, and the broad waters of the Charles +sweeping out to the Bay. + +For eighteen months he, the master of this demesne, had not set foot +within its front gate; not once since the day when on a sudden +resolution he had installed Ruth Josselin here, under ward of Miss +Quiney, to be visited and instructed in theology, the arts, and the +sciences, by such teachers as that unparagoned spinster might, with his +approval, select. In practice he left it entirely to her, and Miss +Quiney's taste in teachers was of the austerest. What nutriment +(one might well have asked) could a young mind extract from the husks of +doctrine and of grammar purveyed to Ruth by the Reverend Malachi +Hichens, her tutor in the Holy Scriptures and in the languages of Greece +and Rome? + +The answer is that youth, when youth craves for it, will draw knowledge +even from the empty air and drink it through the very pores of the skin. +Mr. Hichens might be dry--inhumanly dry--and his methods repellent; but +there were the books, after all, and the books held food for her hunger, +wine for her thirst. So too the harpsichord held music, though Miss +Quiney's touch upon it was formal and lifeless. . . . In these eighteen +months Ruth Josselin had been learning eagerly, teaching herself in a +hundred ways and by devices of which she wist not. Yet always she was +conscious of the final purpose of this preparation; nay, it possessed +her, mastered her. For whatever fate her lord designed her, she would +be worthy of it. + +He never came. For eighteen months she had not seen him. Was it +carelessly or in delicacy that he withheld his face? Or peradventure in +displeasure? Her heart would stand still at times, and her face pale +with the fear of it. She could not bethink her of having displeased +him; but it might well be that he repented of his vast condescension. +Almost without notice, and without any reason given, he had deported her +to this house on the hill. . . . Yet, if he repented, why did he +continue to wrap her around with kindness? Why had she these good +clothes, and food and drink, servants to wait on her, tutors to teach +her--everything, in short, but liberty and young companions and his +presence that most of all she desired and dreaded? + + +On the slope to the south-west of the house, in a dingle well screened +with willow and hickory, a stream of water gushed from the living rock +and had been channelled downhill over a stairway of flat boulders, so +that it dropped in a series of miniature cascades before shooting out of +sight over the top of a ferny hollow. The spot was a favourite one with +Dicky, for between the pendent willow boughs, as through a frame, it +overlooked the shipping and the broad bosom of the Charles. Ruth and he +stole away to it, unperceived of Miss Quiney; to a nook close beside the +spray of the fall, where on a boulder the girl could sit and read while +Dick wedged his back into a cushion of moss, somewhat higher up the +slope, and recumbent settled himself so as to bring (luxurious young +dog!) her face in profile between him and the shining distance. + +She had stipulated for silence while she read her lesson over; but he at +once began to beg off. + +"If you won't let me talk," he grumbled, "the least you can do is to +read aloud." + +"But it's the Bible," she objected. + +"Oh, well, I don't mind. Only choose something interesting. David and +Goliath, or that shipwreck in the Acts." + +"You don't seem to understand that this is a lesson, and I must read +what Mr. Hichens sets. To-day it's about Hagar and Ishmael." + +"I seem to forget about them; but fire away, and we'll hope there's a +story in it." + +Ruth began to read: "_And Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, which +she had born unto Abraham, mocking her. Wherefore she said unto +Abraham, Cast out this bondwoman_. . ." + +She read on. Before she ended Dicky had raised himself to a sitting +posture. "The whole business was a dirty shame," he declared. +"This Ishmael was his own son, eh? Then why should he cast out one son +more than another?" + +"There's a long explanation in the New Testament," said Ruth. "It's by +St. Paul; and I dare say that Mr. Hichens too, if he sees anything +difficult in it, will say that Ishmael stands for the bond and Isaac for +the free, and Abraham had to do it, or the teaching wouldn't come +right." + +"He can't make out it was fair; nor St. Paul can't neither, not if you +read it to him like you did to me," asserted Dicky. + +"But I shall not," answered Ruth after a pause, "and it was rather +clever of you to guess." + +"Why not?" + +"Because it would shock him. I used to find the Bible just as dull as +he makes it out: but one day I heard Mr. Langton standing up for it. +Mr. Langton said it was the finest book in the world and the most +fascinating, if only you read it in the proper way; and the proper way, +he said, is to forget all about its being divided into verses and just +take it like any other book. I tried that, and it makes all the +difference." + +"You mean to say you like it?" asked Dicky, incredulous. + +"I love it. I can't get away from the people in it. They are so +splendid, one moment; and, the next, they are just too mean and petty +for words; and the queer part of it is, they never see. They tell +falsehoods, and they cheat, and the things they do to get into Palestine +are simply disgusting--even if they had the shadow of a right there, +which they haven't." + +"But the land was promised to them." + +She had a mind to criticise that promise, but checked her lips. +He was a child, and she would do no violence to the child's mind. + +Getting no answer, he considered for a while, and harked back. +"But I don't see," he began, and halted, casting about to express +himself. "I don't see why, if you read it like that to yourself, you +should read it differently to old Hichens. That's a sort of pretending, +you know." + +She turned her eyes on him, and they were straight and honest, as +always. "Oh," said she, "you are a man, of course!" + +Master Dicky blushed with pleasure. + +"Men," she went on, "can go the straight way to get what they wish. +The way is usually hard--it ought to be hard if the man is worth +anything--but it is always quite straight and simple, else it is wrong. +Now women have to win through men; which means that they must go round +about." + +"But old Hichens?" + +To herself she might have answered, "He only is allowed to me here. +On whom else can I practise to please? But, alas! I practise for a +master who never comes!" Aloud she said, "You are excited to-day, +Dicky. You have something to tell me." + +"I should think I had!" + +"What is it?" + +"It's about Uncle Harry. Dad showed me a letter from him to-day, and +he's fought a splendid action down off Grand Bahama. Oh, you must hear! +It seems he'd been beating about in his frigate for close on three +months--on and off the islands on the look-out for those Spanish fellows +that snap up our fruit-ships. Well, the water on board was beginning to +smell; so he ran in through the nor'-west entrance of Providence +Channel, anchored just inside, and sent his casks ashore to be refilled. +They'd taken in the fresh stock, and the _Venus_ was weighing for sea +again almost before the last boatload came alongside.--Can't you see +her, the beauty! One anchor lifted, t'other chain shortened in, tops'ls +and t'gallants'ls cast off, ready to cant her at the right moment--" + +"Is that how they do it?" + +"Of course it is. Well just then Uncle Harry spied a boat beating in +through the entrance. He had passed her outside two days before--one of +those small open craft that dodge about groping for sponges--splendid +naked fellows, the crews are. She had put about and run back in search +of him, and her news was of a Spanish guarda-costa making down towards +Havana with three prizes. Think of it! Uncle Harry was off and after +them like a greyhound, and at sunrise next morning he sighted them in a +bunch. He had the wind of them and the legs of them; there isn't a +speedier frigate afloat than the _Venus_--although, he says, she was +getting foul with weed: and after being chased for a couple of hours the +Spaniard and two of the prizes hauled up and showed fight. Now for it! +. . . He ran past the guarda-costa, drawing her fire, but no great harm +done; shot up under the sterns of the two prizes, that were lying not +two hundred yards apart; and raked 'em with half-a-broadside apiece--no +time, you see, to reload between. It pretty well cleaned every Spaniard +off their decks--Why are you putting your hands to your ears!" + +"Go on," said Ruth withdrawing them. + +"By this, of course, he had lost way and given the guarda-costa the wind +of him. But she couldn't reach the _Venus_ for twenty minutes and more, +because of the prizes lying helpless right in her way, and in half that +time Uncle Harry had filled sail again and was manoeuvring out of +danger. Bit by bit he worked around her for the wind'ard berth, got it, +bore down again and hammered her for close upon three hours. She +fought, he says, like a rat in a sink, and when at last she pulled down +her colours the two prizes had patched up somehow and were well off for +Havana after the third, that had showed no fight from the beginning. +Quick as lightning he gets his prisoners on board, heads off on the new +chase, and by sundown has taken the prizes all three--the third one a +timber-ship, full of mahogany . . . That wasn't the end of his luck, +either; for the captain of the guarda-costa turned out to be a +blackguard that two years ago took a British captain prisoner and cut +off his ears, which accounts for his fighting so hard. 'Didn't want to +meet me if he could help it,' writes Uncle Harry, and says the man +wouldn't haul down the flag till his crew had tied him up with ropes." + +"What happened to him?" + +"Uncle Harry shipped him off to England. This was from Carolina, where +he sailed in with all the four vessels in convoy. And now, guess! +He has refitted there, and is sailing around for Boston, and papa has +promised to ask him to take me for a cruise, to see if he can make a +sailor of me!" + +"But that won't be for years." + +"Oh yes, it will. You can join the Navy at any age. They ship you on +as a cabin-boy, or sometimes as the Captain's servant; and papa says +that for the first cruise Uncle Harry's wife will look after me." + +"But"--Ruth opened beautiful eyes of astonishment. "Your Uncle Harry is +not married? Why, more than once you have told me that you would never +take a wife when you grew up, but be like your uncle and live only for +sailing a ship and fighting." + +"He is, though. It happened at Carolina, whilst the _Venus_ was +refitting; and I believe her father is Governor there, or something of +the sort, but I didn't read that part of the letter very carefully. +There was a lot of silly talk in it, quite different from the fighting. +I remember, though, he said he was coming around here for his honeymoon; +and I'm glad, on the whole." + +"On the whole? When you've dreamed, all this while, of seeing your +uncle and growing up to be like him!" + +"I mean that on the whole I'm glad he is married. It--it shows the two +things can go together after all; and, Ruth--" + +She turned in some wonderment as his voice faltered, and wondered more +at sight of his young face. It was crimson. + +"No, please! I want you not to look," he entreated. "I want you to turn +your face away and listen . . . Ruth," he blurted, "I love you better +than anybody in the whole world!" + +"Dear Dicky!" + +"--and I think you're the loveliest person that ever was--besides being +the best." + +"It's lovely of you, at any rate, to think so." Ruth, forgetting his +command, turned her eyes again on Dicky, and they were dewy. For indeed +she loved him and his boyish chivalrous ways. Had he not been her +friend from the first, taking her in perfect trust, and in the hour that +had branded her and in her dreams seared her yet? Often, yet, in the +mid-watches of the night she started out of sleep and lay quivering +along her exquisite body from head to heel, while the awful writing +awoke and crawled and ate again, etching itself upon her flesh. + +"But--but it made me miserable!" choked Dicky. + +"Miserable! Why?" + +"Because I wanted to grow up and marry you," he managed to say +defiantly. "And the two things didn't seem to fit at all. I couldn't +make them fit. But of course," he went on in a cheerfuller voice, the +worst of his confession over, "if Uncle Harry can be married, why +shouldn't we?" + +She bent her head low over the book. Calf-love is absurd, but so +honest, so serious; and like all other sweet natural foolishness should +be sacred to the pure of heart. + +"I ought to tell you something though," he went on gravely and +hesitated. + +"Yes, Dicky! What is it?" + +"Well, I don't quite know what it means, and I don't like to ask any one +else. Perhaps you can tell me. . . . I wouldn't ask it if it weren't +that I'd hate to take you in; or if I could find out any other way." + +"But what is it, dear?" + +"Something against me. I can't tell what, though I've looked at myself +again and again in the glass, trying." He met her eyes bravely, with an +effort. "Ruth, dear--what is a bastard?" + +Ruth sat still. Her palms were folded, one upon another, over the book +on her knees. + +"But what is it?" he pleaded. + +"It means," she said quietly, "a child whose father and mother are not +married--not properly married." + +A pause followed--a long pause--and the tumbling cascade sounded louder +and louder in Ruth's ears, while Dicky considered. + +"Do you think," he asked at length "that papa was not properly married +to my mother?" + +"No, dear--no. And even if that were so, what difference could it make +to my loving you?" + +"It wouldn't make any! Sure?" + +"Sure." + +"But it might make a difference to papa," he persisted, "if ever papa +had another child--like Abraham, you know--" Here he jumped to his +feet, for she had risen of a sudden. "Why, what is the matter?" + +She held out a hand. There were many dragon-flies by the fall, and for +the moment he guessed that one of them had stung her. + +"Dicky," she said. "Whatever happens, you and I will be friends +always." + +"Always," he echoed, taking her hand and ready to search for the mark of +the sting. But her eyes were fastened on the water bubbling from the +well head. + + +A branch creaked aloft, and to the right of the well head the hickory +bushes rustled and parted. + +"So here are the truants!" exclaimed a voice. "Good-morning, Miss +Josselin!" + + + +Chapter II. + + +MR. SILK. + + +The Reverend Nahum Silk, B.A., sometime of St. Alban's Hall, Oxford, had +first arrived in America as a missioner seeking a sphere of labour in +General Oglethorpe's new colony of Georgia. He was then (1733-4) a +young man, newly admitted to priest's orders, and undergoing what he +took to be a crisis of the soul. Sensual natures, such as his, not +uncommonly suffer in youth a combustion of religious sentiment. +The fervour is short-lived, the flame is expelled by its own blast, and +leaves a house swept and garnished, inviting devils. + +For the hard fare of Georgia he soon began to seek consolations, and +early in the second year of his ministry a sufficiently gross scandal +tumbled him out of the little colony. Lacking the grit to return to +England and face out his relatives' displeasure, he had drifted +northwards to Massachusetts, and there had picked up with a slant of +luck. A number of godly and well-to-do citizens of Boston had recently +banded themselves into an association for supplying religious +opportunities to the seamen frequenting the port, and to the Committee +Mr. Silk commended himself by a hail-fellow manner and a shrewdness of +speech which, since it showed through a coat of unction, might be +supposed to mean shrewdness in grain. Cunning indeed the man could be, +for his short ends; but his shrewdness began and ended in a trick of +talking, and in the conduct of life he trimmed sail to his appetites. + +His business of missioner (or, as he jocosely put it, Chaplain of the +Fleet) soon brought him to the notice of Captain Vyell, Collector of +Customs, with whom by the same trick of speech (slightly adapted) he +managed to ingratiate himself, scenting the flesh-pots. For he belonged +to the tribe to whom a patron never comes amiss. Captain Vyell was +amused by the man; knew him for a sycophant; but tolerated him at table +and promoted him (in Batty Langton's phrase) to be his trencher +chaplain. He and Langton took an easy malicious delight, over their +wine, in shocking Mr. Silk with their free thought and seeing how +"the dog swallowed it." + +The dog swallowed his dirty puddings very cleverly, and with just so +much show of protest as he felt to be due to his Orders. He had the +accent of an English gentleman and enough of the manner to pass muster. +But the Collector erred when he said that "Silk was only a beast in his +cups," and he erred with a carelessness well-nigh wicked when he made +the man Dicky's tutor. + +This step had coincided with the relegation of Ruth and Miss Quiney to +Sabines; but whether by chance or of purpose no one but the Collector +could tell. Of his intentions toward the girl he said nothing, even to +Batty Langton. Very likely they were not clear to himself. He knew +well enough how fast and far gossip travelled in New England; and +doubted not at all that his adventure at Port Nassau had within a few +days been whispered and canvassed throughout Boston. His own grooms, no +doubt, had talked. But he could take a scornful amusement in baffling +speculation while he made up his own mind. In one particular only he +had been prompt--in propitiating Miss Quiney. On reaching home, some +hours ahead of the girl, he had summoned Miss Quiney to his library and +told her the whole story. The interview on her part had been +exclamatory and tearful; but the good lady, with all her absurdities, +was a Christian. She was a woman too, and delighted to serve an +overmastering will. She had left him with a promise to lay her +conscience in prayer before the Lord; and, next morning, Ruth's beauty +had done the rest. + + +"Good-morning, Miss Josselin!" Ruth started and glanced up the slope +with a shiver. The voice of Mr. Silk always curdled her flesh. + +"La! la!" went on Mr. Silk, nodding down admiration. "What a group to +startle!--Cupid extracting a thorn from the hand of Venus--or (shall we +say?) the Love god, having wounded his mother in sport, kisses the +scratch to make it well. Ha, ha!" + +"Shall I continue, sir?" said Ruth, recovering herself. "The pair are +surprised by a satyr who crept down to the spring to bathe his aching +head--" + +"Hard on me, as usual!" Mr. Silk protested, climbing down the slope. +"But 'tis the privilege of beauty to be cruel. As it happens, I drank +moderately last night, and I come with a message from the Diana of these +groves. Miss Quiney wishes to communicate to you some news I have had +the honour to bring in a letter from Captain Vyell--or, as we must now +call him, Sir Oliver." + +"Sir Oliver?" echoed Ruth, not understanding at all. + +"The _Fish-hawk_ arrived in harbour this morning with the English +mail-bags; and the Collector has letters informing him that his uncle, +Sir Thomas Vyell, is dead after a short illness--the cause, jail fever, +contracted while serving at Launceston, in Cornwall, on the Grand Jury." + +"Captain Vyell succeeds?" + +"To the title and, I believe, to very considerable estates. His uncle +leaves no male child." + +"Dicky had not told me of this." + +"--Because," explained the boy, "I didn't know what it meant, and I +don't know now. Papa told me this morning that his uncle was dead, home +in England; but I'd never heard of him, and it slipped out of my mind. +Can titles, as you call them, be passed on like that? And if papa died, +should I get one? Or would it go to Uncle Harry?" + +"It would go to your uncle," said Mr. Silk. "Now run along to the house +and tell Miss Quiney that I have found the pair of you. She was getting +anxious." + +Dicky hesitated. He knew that Ruth had a horror of his tutor. + +"Yes, run," she commanded, reading his glance. "We follow at once." + +The boy scrambled up the slope. Mr. Silk looked after him and chuckled. + +"Dicky don't know yet that there are two sides to a blanket." + +Getting no answer--for she had turned and was stooping to pick up her +book--he went on, "Vyell had a letter, among others, from the widow, +Lady Caroline; and that, between ourselves, is the cause of my errand. +She writes that she is taking a trip across here, to restore her nerves, +and is bringing her daughter for company. The daughter, so near as I +gather, is of an age near-about Vyell's. See?" + +"I am afraid I do not." Ruth had recovered her book and her composure. +A rose-flush showed yet on either cheek, but it lay not within Mr. +Silk's competence to read so delicate a signal. "Will you explain?" + +"Well"--he leered--"it did occur to me there might be some cleverness in +the lady's search after consolation. Her daughter and our Collector +being cousins--eh? At any rate, that's her first thought; to bring the +girl--woman, if you prefer it--over and renew acquaintance with the +heir. Must be excused if I misjudge her. Set it down to zeal for you, +Miss Josselin." + +"Willingly, Mr. Silk--if your zeal for me did not outrun my +understanding." + +"Yet you're clever. But you won't persuade me you don't see the +difficulty. . . . Er--how shall I put it? The Collector--we'll have to +get used to calling him Sir Oliver--is as cool under fire as any man +this side of the Atlantic; fire of criticism, I mean. There's a limit +though. He despises Colonial opinion--that's his pose; takes pride in +despising it, encouraged by Langton. But England? his family?--that's +another matter. An aunt--and that aunt an earl's daughter--If you'll +believe me, Miss Josselin, I'm a man of family and know the sort. +They're incredible. And the younger lady, if I may remind you, called +Diana; which--er--may warn us that she, too, is particular about these +things." Here Mr. Silk, having at length found his retort upon her +similitude of the satyr, licked his lips. + +Ruth drew up and stood tapping her foot. "May I beg to be told exactly +what has happened, sir?" + +"What has happened? What has happened is that Vyell is placing Sabines +at the disposal of his aunt and cousin for so long as they may honour +Boston with their presence. He sends the Quiney word to pack and hold +herself in readiness for a flitting. Whither? I cannot say; nor can he +yet have found the temporary nest for you. But doubtless you will hear +in due course. May I offer you my arm?" + +"I thank you, no. Indeed we will part here, unless you have further +business in the house--and I gather that your errand there is +discharged. . . . One question--Captain Vyell sent his message by a +letter, which Miss Quiney no doubt will show to me. Did he further +commission you with a verbal one? You had better," she added quietly, +"be particular about telling me the truth; for I may question him, and +for a discovered falsehood he is capable of beating you." + +"What I have said," stammered the clergyman, "was--er--entirely on my +own responsibility. I--I conceived you would find it sympathetic-- +helpful perhaps. Believe me, Miss Josselin, I have considerable +feeling for you and your--er--position." + +"I thank you." She dismissed him with a gentle curtsy. "I feel almost +sure you have been doing your best." + + + +Chapter III. + + + +MR. HICHENS. + + +She turned and walked slowly back to the house. Once within the front +door and out of his sight, she was tempted to rush across the hall and +up the stairs to her own room. She was indeed gathering up her skirts +for the run, when in the hall she almost collided with the Reverend +Malachi Hichens, who stood there with his nose buried in a vase of +roses, while behind his back his hands interwove themselves and pulled +each at the other's bony knuckles. + +"Ah!" He faced about with a stiff bow, and a glance up at the tall +clock. "You are late this morning, Miss Josselin. But I dare say my +good brother Silk has been detaining you in talk?" + +"On the contrary," answered Ruth, "his talk has rather hastened me than +not." + +They entered the library. "Miss Quiney tells me," he said, "that our +studies are to suffer a brief interruption; that you are about to take a +country holiday. You anticipate it with delight, I doubt not?" + +"Have I been, then, so listless a scholar?" she asked, smiling. + +"No," he answered. "I have never looked on you as eager for praise, or +I should have told you that your progress--in Greek particularly--has +been exceptional; for a young lady, I might almost say, abnormal." + +"I am grateful to you at any rate for saying it now. It happens that +just now I wanted something to give me back a little self-respect." + +"But I do not suppose you so abnormal as, at your age, to undervalue a +holiday," he continued. "It is only we elders who live haunted by the +words 'Work while ye have the light.' If youth extract any moral from +the brevity of life it is rather the pagan warning, _Collige rosas_." + +Her eyes rested on him, still smiling, but behind her smile she was +wondering. Did he--this dry, sallow old man, with the knock-knees and +ungainly frame, the soiled bands, the black suit, threadbare, hideous in +cut, hideous in itself (Ruth had a child's horror of black)--did he +speak thus out of knowledge, or was he but using phrases of convention? +Ruth feared and distrusted all religious folk--clergymen above all; yet +instinct had told her at the first that Mr. Hichens was honest, even +good in an unlovely fashion; and by many small daily tests she had +proved this. Was it possible that Mr. Hichens had ever gathered roses +in his youth? Was it possible that, expecting Heaven and professing a +spiritual joy in redemption, a man could symbolise his soul's state by +wearing these dingy weeds? Had he no sense of congruity, or was all +religion so false in grain that it perverted not only the believer's +judgment but his very senses, turning white into black for him, and +making beauty and ugliness change places? + +"For my part," said Mr. Hichens wistfully, "I regret the interruption; +for I had even played with the thought of teaching you some Hebrew." +He paused and sighed. "But doubtless the Almighty denies us these small +pleasures for our good. . . . Shall we begin with our repetition? +I forget the number of the Psalm?" + +"The forty-fifth," said Ruth, finding the place and handing him the +book. "_My heart is inditing of a good matter: I speak of the things +which I have made unto the king_." . . . She recited the opening lines +very quietly, but her voice lifted at the third verse. Beautiful words +always affected her poignantly, but the language of the Bible more +poignantly than any other, because her own unforgettable injury had been +derived from it and sanctioned by it, and because at the base of things +our enemies in this world are dearer to us than friends. They cling +closer. + +Yet,--and paradox though it be--the Bible was the more alive to her +because, on Mr. Langton's hint, she had taken it like any other book, +ignoring the Genevan division of verses and the sophisticated chapter +headings. Thus studied, it had revenged itself by taking possession of +her. It held all the fascination of the East, and little by little +unlocked it--Abraham at his tent door, Rebekah by the fountain, her own +namesake Ruth in the dim threshing-floor of Boaz, King Saul wrestling +with his dark hour, the last loathly years of David, Jezebel at the +window, Job on his dung-heap, Athaliah murdering the seed royal, and +again Athaliah dragged forth by the stable-way and calling _Treason! +Treason!_ . . . Bedouins with strings of camels, scent of camels by the +city gate, clashing of distant cymbals, hush of fear--plot and +counterplot in the apartments of the women--outcries, lusts, hates-- +blood on the temple steps--blood oozing, welling across the gold--blood +caking in spots upon illimitable desert sands--watchmen by the wall--in +the dark streets a woman with bleeding back and feet seeking and +calling, "_I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my +beloved_--" + +"_Hearken, O daughter, and consider, incline thine ear_"--Ruth's voice +swelled up on a full note: "_forget also thine own people and thy +father's house._" + +"_So shall the King have pleasure in thy beauty: for he is thy lord, and +worship thou him_." + +"Excuse me--'for he is thy Lord God,'" corrected Mr. Hichens. . . . +"We are taking the Prayer Book's version." + +"I changed to the Bible version on purpose," Ruth confessed; +"and 'lord' ought to have a small 'l'. The Prayer Book makes nonsense +of it. They are bringing in the bride, the princess, to her lord. +_She is all glorious within, her clothing is of wrought gold. She shall +be brought unto the King in raiment of needlework: the virgins that be +her fellows shall bear her company_--" + +"The Hebrew," said Mr. Hichens, blinking over his own text which he had +hastily consulted, "would seem to bear you out, or at least to leave the +question open. But, after all, it matters little, since, as the chapter +heading explains in the Authorized Version, the supposed bride is the +Church, and the bridegroom, therefore, necessarily Our Lord." + +"Do you think that, or anything like that, was in the mind of the man +who wrote it?" asked Ruth, rebellious. "The title says, 'To the Chief +Musician upon Shoshannim'--whatever that may mean." + +"It means that it was to be sung to a tune called Shoshannim or Lilies-- +doubtless a well-known one." + +"It has a beautiful name, then; and he calls it too 'Maschil, A song of +Loves.'" + +"Historically no doubt you are right," agreed Mr. Hichens. "The song is +undoubtedly later than David, and was written as a Prothalamion for a +royal bride. It is, as you say, exceedingly beautiful; but perhaps we +had best confine our attention to its allegorical side. You probably do +not guess who the bride was?" + +"No," Ruth admitted. "Who was she?" + +"It is generally admitted, I believe, to have been written as a bridal +hymn for Queen Jezebel." + +"O--oh!" Ruth bit her lip, but had to laugh in spite of herself. + + + +Chapter IV. + + +VASHTI. + + +The first bad suggestion almost certainly came from Mr. Silk. +Two or three of the company afterwards put their heads together and, +comparing recollections, agreed that either Silk or Manley had started +it. Beyond the alternative they could not trace it. + +But the whole table, they admitted, had been to blame, and pretty +damnably. To be sure they were drunk, every man Jack of them, the +Collector included. The Collector, indolent by nature but capable of +long stretches of work at a pinch, had been at his desk since six +o'clock in the morning. The news brought by the _Fish-hawk_ had reached +him at five; and after bathing, dressing, and drinking his chocolate, he +had started to write, and had been writing letters all day. The most of +these were lengthy, addressed to England, to his relatives, his London +lawyers, the steward at Carwithiel. . . . The Surveyor and +Deputy-Collector could deal--as they usually did--with the official +correspondence of the Custom House; his own Secretary had the light task +of penning a score of invitations to dinner; but these letters of +condolence and private business must be written by his own hand, as also +a note to Governor Shirley formally announcing his accession and new +title. + +The Collector dined at five. He laid down his pen at four, having +written for ten hours almost at a stretch, declining all food--for he +hated to mix up work with eating and drinking. Before dressing for +dinner he refreshed himself with another bath; but he came to table with +a jaded brain and a stomach fasting beyond appetite for food; and the +wine was champagne. + + +Miss Quiney and Ruth Josselin, seated that evening in the drawing-room +at Sabines, were startled at eight o'clock or thereabouts by a +knocking on the front door. Miss Quiney looked up from her +tambour-work, with hand and needle suspended in mid-air, and gazed +across at Ruth, who, seated at the harpsichord, had been singing +softly--murmuring rather--the notes of Ben Jonson's _Charis her +Triumph_-- + + "Have you seen but a bright Lillie grow + Before rude hands have touch'd it?"-- + +--but desisted at the noise and slewed her body half around, letting her +fingers rest on the keys. + +"Who in the world--at this hour?" demanded Miss Quiney. + +A serving-maid ushered in Manasseh. + +The tall black halted a little within the doorway, saluted and stood +grinning respectfully, his white teeth gleaming in the candle-light. + +"Yo' pardon, ladies. His Honah sends to say he entertainin' to-night. +Plenty people drink his Honah's health an' long life to Sir Olivah +Vyell. He wish pertick'ly Mis' Josselin drink it. He tol' me run, get +out sedan-chair an' fetch Mis' Josselin along; fetch her back soon as +she likes. Chairmen at de door dis moment, waitin'. I mak' 'em run." + +Ruth stood up. Her hand went to the edge of her bodice open below the +throat. + +"Must I?" she asked, turning from Manasseh to Miss Quiney. Her voice +was tense. + +"I--I think so, dear," Miss Quiney answered after a pause. "It is a +command, almost; and to-night naturally Captain Vyell--Sir Oliver--has a +claim on our congratulations." + +"You tell me to go? . . . Oh! but let me be sure you know what you are +advising." She faced the negro again. "What guests is Sir Oliver +entertaining?" + +Manasseh enumerated a dozen. + +"All gentlemen! So, you see!" + +"Captain--Sir Oliver (bless me, how I forget! ) has an aversion from +ladies' society--Boston ladies. . . . It is not for me to criticise, but +the distaste is well known." + +"And the gentlemen, Manasseh--they will have taken a great deal of wine +by now?" + +Manasseh spread out his hands, and again his teeth gleamed. "To be +sho', Mis' Josselin; it is not ebery day in the yeah dat Cap'n Vyell +become Sir Olivah--" + +"I did not ask you," interrupted Ruth coldly, "to excuse your errand. +. . . And now, Tatty dear, do you still bid me to go?" + +"On the contrary, I forbid it." + +Ruth stepped close to the little lady. Said she, standing straight +before her and looking down, "It cost you some courage to say that." + +"It may cost me more to-morrow; but I am not afraid." + +"My brave Tatty! But the courage is thrown away, for I am going." + +"You do not mean this?" + +"I do mean it. My master sends for me. You know what duty I owe him." + +"He is just. He will thank you to-morrow that you disobeyed." + +"I shall not disobey." + +Little Miss Quiney, looking up into her ward's eyes, argued this point +no further. "Very well," said she. "Then I go too." She closed her +mouth firmly, squaring her jaw. + +"But in the sedan there is room for one only." + +"Then I go first," said Miss Quiney, "and the chair shall return for +you. That," she went on, falling back upon her usual pedantic speech, +"presents no difficulty whatever to me. What I wear does not matter-- +the gentlemen will not regard it. But you must dress in what you have +of the best. It--it will assist you. Being without experience, you +probably have no notion how dress assists one's self-respect." + +"I think I have some little notion," Ruth assured her demurely. + +"And while the chair is taking me and returning, you will have good time +to dress. On no account are you to hurry. . . . It is essential that at +no point--at _no_ point, dear--you allow yourself to be hurried, or to +show any trace of hurry." + +Ruth nodded slowly. "Yes, Tatty. I understand. But, little lioness +that you are, do _you?_ You will be alone, and for some time with +these--with these--" + +"I have never mentioned it to a living soul before," said Miss Quiney, +dismissing Manasseh with a wave of the hand and closing the door upon +him; "but I had an eldest brother--in the Massachusetts militia--who, +not to put too fine a point on it, was sadly addicted to the bottle. +It shortened his days. . . . A bright young genius, of which we hoped +much, and (I fear me) not all unselfishly, for our family was +impoverished. But he went astray. Towards the end he would bring home +his boon companions--I will say this for poor dear George, that his +footsteps, at their unsteadiest, ever tended homeward; he never affected +low haunts--and it fell to me as the eldest daughter of the house to +keep his hospitality within bounds--" + +"Dear Tatty!" Ruth stooped and kissed the plain little face, cutting +short the narrative. It was strange to note how these two of diverse +ages--between whom for the length of their acquaintance no dispute of +mastery had arisen--now suddenly and in quick alternation, out of pure +love, asserted will against will. "You shall tell me to-morrow. +(I always knew that your meekness and weakness were only pretence.) +But just now we must hurry." + +"Hurry, as I must repeat," answered Miss Quiney primly, smoothing down +the front of her creased grey satin skirt, "is--will be--our capital +mistake. For me, I need in this weather but an additional shawl. +I am ready. . . . Go to your room . . . and let me enjoin a certain +deliberation even in crossing the hall. Manasseh is there, and before +servants--even a negro--The white brocade if I may advise; it is fresher +than the rose-coloured silk--and the hair combed a trifle higher off the +brows. That, with the brocade, will correct your girlishness somewhat. +Brocades are for dignity, and it is dignity we chiefly need to-night. +. . . Shall I send Selina to you? No? Well, she would be persuading +you to some new twist or experiment with your hair, and you are better +without her. Also I shall want a last word with you when I have fetched +my cloak, and Selina is better out of the way." + + +Miss Quiney's last word was a curious one. It took the form of a pearl +necklace, her one possession of value, last surviving heirloom of the +Quineys, of whom she was the last surviving descendant: her last +tangible evidence, too, of those bygone better days. She never wore it, +and it never saw the light save when she unlocked the worn jewel-case to +make sure that her treasure had not been stolen. + +She entered Ruth's room with it furtively. Despite her injunction +against hurry, the girl had already indued the white brocade and stood +before the mirror conning herself. She wore no jewels; she owned none. + +"Shut your eyes, dear," commanded Miss Quiney, and, stealing up behind +her, slipped and clasped the necklace about her throat, then fell back, +admiring the reflection in the glass. + +"Oh, Tatty!" + +But Ruth, too, had to pause for a moment to admire. When she turned, +Miss Quiney, forgetting her own injunction, had stolen in haste from the +room. + +The girl's eyes moistened. For a moment she saw herself reflected from +the glass in a blur. Then through the blur the necklace took shape, +point by point of light, pearl by pearl, until the whole chain grew +definite in the parting of the bodice, resting on the rise of her young +bosom. + +Yes, and the girl saw that it was good. + +A string of words danced upon her brain, as though the mirrored pearls +reflected them. + +_She shall be brought unto the King . . . the virgins that be her +fellows shall bear her company_. + + + +Chapter V. + + +SIR OLIVER'S HEALTH. + + +"De lady is here, yo' Honah!" + +Manasseh announced it from the doorway and stood aside. Of the company +four had already succumbed and slid from their chairs. The others +staggered to their feet, Sir Oliver as promptly as any. With a face +unnaturally white he leaned forward, clutching the edge of the long oval +table, and stared between the silver candelabra down the broken ranks of +his guests--Mr. Silk, purple of face as his patron was pale; Ned Manley, +maundering the tag of a chorus; Captain St. Maur, Captain Goodacre, and +Ensign Lumley, British officers captured by the French at Fort Chanseau +and released to live at Boston on parole until the war should end; Mr. +Fynes, the Collector's Secretary; Mr. Bythesea, Deputy-Collector; young +Shem Hacksteed and young Denzil Baynes, sons of wealthy New Englanders, +astray for the while, and sowing their wild oats in a society openly +scornful of New England traditions. + +Batty Langton's was the chair nearest the door, and Batty Langton was +the one moderately sober man of the company. He had not heard, in time +to interfere, the proposal to send for Ruth: it had started somewhere at +the Collector's end of the table. But trifler though he was, he thought +it cruel to the girl--a damnable shame--and pulled himself together to +prevent what mischief he might. At the same time he felt curious to see +her, curious to learn if these many months of seclusion had fulfilled +the Collector's wager that Ruth Josselin would grow to be the loveliest +woman in America. At Manasseh's announcement he faced about, and, with +a gasp, clutched at the back of his chair. + +In the doorway stood little Miss Quiney. It was so ludicrous a +disappointment that for the moment no one found speech. Langton heard +Goodacre, behind him, catch his breath upon a wondering "O--oh!" and +felt the shock run down the table along the unsteady ranks. At the far +end a voice--Mr. Silk's--cackled and burst into unseemly laughter. + +Langton swung round. "Mr. Fynes," he called sharply, "oblige me, +please, by silencing that clergyman--with a napkin in his mouth, if +necessary." + +He turned again to Miss Quiney. "Madam," he said, offering his arm, +"let me lead you to a seat by Sir Oliver." + +The little lady accepted with a curtsy. A faint flush showed upon +either cheek bone, and in her eyes could be read the light of battle. +It commanded his admiration the more that her small arm trembled against +his sleeve. "The courage of it," he murmured; "and Miss Quiney of all +women!" + +She needed courage. The Collector's handsome face greeted her with a +scowl and a hard stare; he could be intractable in his cups. + +"Excuse me, madam, but I sent for Miss Josselin." + +She answered him, but first made low obeisance. "Ruth Josselin will +attend, sir, with all despatch. The sedan is capable of accommodating +but one at a time." + +There stood an empty chair on the Collector's right. To set it for her +Mr. Langton had, as a preliminary, to stoop and drag aside the legs of a +reveller procumbent on the floor. The effort flushed him; but Miss +Quiney, with an inclination of the head, slipped into the seat as though +she had seen nothing unusual. + +"And it gives me the occasion," she continued respectfully, as her eyes +passed over the form of young Manley opposite, who stood with his glass +at an angle, spilling its wine on the mahogany, "of expressing--I thank +you. . . . What? Is it Mr. Silk? A pleasure, indeed! . . .Yes, I +rarely take wine, but on such an occasion as this--an occasion, as I was +saying, to felicitate Sir Oliver Vyell on his accession to a title which +we, who have served him, best know his capacity to adorn." + +"Oh, damn!" growled the Collector under his breath. + +"Half a glassful only!" Miss Quiney entreated, as Mr. Silk poured for +her. She was, in fact, desperately telling herself that if she +attempted to lift a full glass, her shaking hand would betray her. + + +"Yo' Honah--Mis' Josselin!" + +Mr. Langton had caught the sound of Manasseh's footfall in the corridor +without, and was on the alert before the girl entered. But at sight of +her in the doorway he fell back for a moment. + +Yes, the Collector's promise had come true--and far more than true. +She was marvellous. + +It was by mere beauty, too, that she dazzled, helped by no jewels but +the one plain rope of pearls at her throat. She stood there holding +herself erect, but not stiffly, with chin slightly lifted; not in +scorn, nor yet in defiance, though you were no sooner satisfied of this +than a tiniest curve of the nostril set you doubting. But no; she was +neither scornful nor defiant--alert rather, as a fair animal quivering +with life, confronting some new experience that for the moment it fails +to read. Or--borrowing her morning's simile, to convert it--you might +liken her to huntress-maiden Diana, surprised upon arrested foot; +instep arched, nostril quivering to the unfamiliar, eyes travelling in +sudden speculation over a group of satyrs in a glade. For a certainty +that poise of the chin emphasised the head's perfect carriage; as did +the fashion of her head-tire, too--the hair drawn straight above the +brows and piled superbly, to break and escape in two careless +love-locks on the nape of the neck--in the ripple of each a smile, +correcting the goddess to the woman. The right arm hung almost straight +at her side, the hand ready to gather a fold of the white brocaded +skirt; the left slanted up to her bosom, where its finger-tips touched +the stem of a white rose in the lace at the parting of the bodice. . . . + +So she stood--for ten seconds maybe--under the droop of the heavy +curtain Manasseh held aside for her. The hush of the room was homage to +her beauty. Her gaze, passing between the lines of his guests, sought +the Collector. It was fearless, but held a hint of expectancy. Perhaps +she waited for him to leave his place and come forward to receive her. +But he made no motion to do this; not being, in fact, sufficient master +of his legs. + +"Good-evening, my lord!" She swept him a curtsy. "You sent for me?" + +Before he could answer, she had lowered her eyes. They rested on a +chair that happened to stand empty beside Batty Langton, and a slight +inclination of the head gave Langton to understand that she wished him +to offer it. He did so, and she moved to it. The men, embarrassed for +a moment by their host's silence--they had expected him to answer her, +but he stood staring angrily as one rebuffed--followed her cue and +reseated themselves. He, too, dropped back in his chair, leaned forward +for the decanter, and poured himself more wine. The buzz of talk +revived, at first a word or two here and there, tentative after the +check, then more confidently. Within a minute the voices were babel +again. + +Batty Langton pondered. A baronet should not be addressed as "my lord," +and she had been guilty of a solecism. At the same time her manner had +been perfect; her carriage admirably self-possessed. Her choice of a +seat, too, at the end of the table and furthest from Sir Oliver--if she +had come unwillingly--had been wittily taken, and on the moment, and +with the appearance of deliberate ease. + +"They will be calling on you presently to drink our host's health," he +suggested, clearing a space of the table in front of her and collecting +very dexterously two or three unused wine-glasses. Champagne? . . . +Miss Quiney is drinking champagne, I see, though her neighbours have +deserted it for red wine. Sir Oliver, by the way, grows lazy in pushing +the decanters. . . . Shall I signal to him?" + +"On no account. Champagne, if you please . . . though I had rather you +kept it in readiness." + +"I am sorry, Miss Josselin, but there you ask of me the one thing +impossible. I cannot abide to let wine stand and wait; and champagne-- +watch it, how it protests!" He filled her glass and refilled his own. +"By the way," he added, sinking his voice, "one is permitted to +congratulate a debutante?" + +"And to criticise." + +"There was nothing to criticise except--Oh, well, a trifle. At home in +England we don't 'my lord' a mere baronet, you know." + +"But since he _is_ my lord?" She smiled gently, answering his puzzled +stare. "How, otherwise, should I be here?" + +Mr. Langton took wine to digest this. He shook his head. "You must +forgive me. It is clear that I am drunk--abominably drunk--for I miss +the point--" + +"You accuse yourself unjustly." + +"Do I? Well, I have certainly drunk a deal more wine than is good for +me, and it will be revenged to-morrow. As a rule,"--he glanced around +at his fellow-topers--"I pride myself that in head and legs I am +inexpugnable. We all have our gifts; and i' faith until a moment ago I +was patting myself on the back for owning this one." + +"And why, Mr. Langton?" + +"On the thought, Mistress Josselin, that I had cut out the frigate, as +our tars say, and towed the prize to moorings before the others could +fire a gun." + +"I had hoped," she murmured, and bent her eyes on the wine-bubbles +winking against the rim of her glass, "you did it in simple kindness." + +"Well," he owned slowly, "and so I did. This belittling of good +intentions, small enough to begin with, is a cursed habit, and I'll +renounce it for once. It was little--it was nothing; yet behold me +eager to be thanked." + +"I thank you." She fingered the stem of the glass, not lifting her +eyes. "But you have belittled me, too. I read it in books, and here on +the threshold, as I step outside of books, you meet me with it. We +women are always, it seems, poor ships, beating the seas, fleeing +capture; and our tackle, our bravery--" She broke off, and sat musing, +while her fingers played with the base of the glass. + +"I take back my metaphors, Miss Josselin. I admit myself no buccaneer, +but a simple ass who for once pricked ears on an honest impulse." + +"That is better. But hush! Mr. Manley, yonder, is preparing to sing." + +Mr. Manley, a young protege of the Collector's, had a streak of genius +as an architect and several lesser gifts, among them a propensity for +borrowing and a flexible tenor voice. He trolled an old song, slightly +adapted-- + + "Here's a health unto Sir Oliver, + With a fal-la-la, lala-la-la; + Confusion to his enemies, + With a fa-la-la, lala-la-la; + And he that will not drink his health, + I wish him neither wit nor wealth, + Nor yet a rope to hang himself-- + With a fa-la-la, lala-la-la." + +The effort was applauded. Above the applause the bull voice of Mr. Silk +shouted,-- + +"But Miss Josselin has not drunk it yet! Langton monopolises her. +Miss Josselin! What has Miss Josselin to say?" + +The cry was taken up. "Miss Josselin! Miss Josselin!" + +Batty Langton arose, glass in hand. "Is it a toast, gentlemen?" +He glanced at Sir Oliver, who sat sombre, not lifting his eyes. +"Our host permits me. . . . Then I give you 'Miss Josselin!'" +Acclamations drowned his voice here, and the men sprang up, waving their +glasses. Sir Oliver stood with the rest. + +"Miss Josselin! Miss Josselin!" they shouted, and drank what their +unsteady hands left unspilt. Langton waited, his full glass half +upraised. + +"Miss Josselin," he repeated very deliberately on the tail of the +uproar, "who honours this occasion as Sir Oliver's ward." + +For about five seconds an awkward silence held the company. +Their fuddled memories retained scraps of gossip concerning Ruth, her +history and destiny--gossip scandalous in the main. One or two glanced +at the Collector, who had resumed his seat--and his scowl. + +"The more reason she should drink his health." Again Mr. Silk was +fugleman. + +His voice braved it off on the silence. Ruth was raising her glass. +Her eyes sought Miss Quiney's; but Miss Quiney's, lifted heavenward, had +encountered the ceiling upon which Mr. Manley had recently depicted the +hymeneals of Venus and Vulcan, not omitting Mars; and the treatment--a +riot of the nude--had for the moment put the redoubtable little lady out +of action. + +Ruth leaned forward in her seat, lifting her glass high. It brimmed, +but she spilled no drop. + +"To Sir Oliver!" + + + +Chapter VI. + + +CAPTAIN HARRY AND MR. HANMER. + + +"Guests, has he?--Out of my road, you rascal! Guests? I'll warrant +there's none so welcome--" + +A good cheery voice--a voice the curtain could not muffle--rang it down +the corridor as on the note of a cornet. + +The wine was at Ruth's lip, scarcely wetting it. She lowered the glass +steadily and turned half-about in her chair at the moment when, as +before a whirlwind, the curtain flew wide and a stranger burst in on the +run with Manasseh at his heels. + +"Oliver!" The stranger drew himself up in the doorway--a well-knit +figure of a man, clear of eye, bronzed of hue, clad in blue sea-cloth +faced with scarlet, and wearing a short sword at the hip. "Where's my +Oliver?" he shouted. "You'll forgive my voice, gentlemen. I'm Harry +Vyell, at your service, fresh from shipboard, and not hoarse with +anthems like old what-d'ye-call-him." Running his gaze along the table, +he sighted the Collector and broke into a view-halloo. + +"Oliver! Brother Noll!" Captain Harry made a second run of it, caught +his foot on the prostrate toper whom Langton had dragged out of Miss +Quiney's way, and fell on his brother's neck. Recovering himself with a +"damn," he clapped his left hand on Sir Oliver's shoulder, seized Sir +Oliver's right in his grip and started pump-handling--"as though" +murmured Langton, "the room were sinking with ten feet of liquor in the +hold." + +"Harry--is it Harry?" Sir Oliver stammered, and made a weak effort to +rise. + +"Lord! You're drunk!" Captain Harry crowed the cheerful discovery. +"Well, and I'll join you--but in moderation, mind! Newly married man-- +if some one will be good enough to pass the decanter? . . . My dear +fellow! . . . Cast anchor half an hour ago--got myself rowed ashore +hot-foot to shake my Noll by the hand. Lord, brother, you can't think +how good it feels to be married! Sally won't be coming ashore +to-night; the hour's too late, she says; so I'm allowed an hour's +liberty." Here the uxorious fellow paused on a laugh, indicating that +he found irony in the word. "But Sally--capital name, Sally, for a +sailor's wife; she's Sarah to all her family, Sal to me--Sally is +cunning. Sally gives me leave ashore, but on condition I take Hanmer to +look after me. He's my first lieutenant--first-rate officer, too--but +no ladies' man. Gad!" chuckled Captain Harry, "I believe he'd run a +mile from a petticoat. But where is he? Hi, Hanmer! step aft-along +here and be introduced!" + +A tall grave man, who had entered unnoticed, walked past the line of +guests and up to his captain. He too wore a suit of blue with scarlet +facings, and carried a short sword or hanger at his belt. He stood +stiffly, awaiting command. The candle-light showed, beneath his right +cheek bone, the cicatrix of a recent wound. + +But Captain Harry, slewing round to him, was for the moment bereft of +speech. His gaze had happened, for the first time, on little Miss +Quiney. + +"Eh?" he stammered, recovering himself. "Your pardon, ma'am. I wasn't +aware that a lady--" Here his eyes, travelling to the end of the table, +were arrested by the vision of Ruth Josselin. "Wh-e-ew!" he whistled, +under his breath. + +"Sir Oliver--" Batty Langton stood up. + +"Hey?" The name gave Captain Harry yet another shock. He spun about +again upon his brother. "'Sir Oliver'? _Whats_ he saying?" + +"You've not heard?" said the Collector, gripping his words slowly, one +by one. "No, of course you've not. Harry, our uncle is dead." + +There was a pause. "Poor old boy!" he muttered. "Used to be kind to +us, Noll, after his lights. If it hadn't been for his womenkind." + +"They're coming across to visit me, damn 'em!" + +"What? Aunt Carrie and Di'? . . . Good Lord!" + +"They're on the seas at this moment--may be here within the week." + +"Good Lord!" Captain Harry repeated, and his eyes wandered again to Ruth +Josselin. "Awkward, hey? . . . But I say, Noll--you really _are_ Sir +Oliver! Dear lad, I give you joy, and with all my heart. . . . +Gad, here's a piece of news for Sally!" + +Again he came to a doubtful halt, and again with his eyes on Ruth +Josselin. He was not a quick-witted man, outside of his calling, nor a +man apt to think evil; but he had been married a month, and this had +been long enough to teach him that women and men judge by different +standards. + +"Sir Oliver," repeated Langton, "Miss Josselin craves your leave to +retire." + +"Yes, dear"--Miss Quiney launched an approving nod towards her--"I was +about to suggest it, with Sir Oliver's leave. The hour is late, and by +the time the sedan-chair returns for me--" + +"There is no reason, Tatty, why we should not return together," said +Ruth quietly. "The night is fine; and, with Manasseh for escort, I can +walk beside your chair." + +"Pardon me, ladies," put in Mr. Silk. "Once in the upper town, you may +be safe enough; but down here by the quay the sh--sailors--I know 'em-- +it's my buishness. 'Low me--join the eshcort." + +But here, perceived by few in the room, a somewhat remarkable thing +happened. Mr. Hanmer, who had stood hitherto like a statue, put out a +hand and laid it on Mr. Silk's shoulder; and there must have been some +power in that grip, for Mr. Silk dropped into his seat without another +word. + +Captain Harry saw it, and broke into a laugh. + +"Why, to be sure! Hanmer's the very man! The rest of ye too drunk-- +meaning no offence; and, for me,--well, for me, you see there's Sally +to be reckoned with." He laughed aloud at this simple jocularity. +"Hanmer!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Convoy." + +"If you wish it, sir." The lieutenant bowed stiffly; but it was to be +noted that the scar, which had hitherto showed white on a bronzed cheek, +now reddened on a pale one. + +Miss Quiney hesitated. "The gentleman, as a stranger to Boston--" + +"I'll answer for Hanmer, ma'am. You'll get little talk out of him; but, +be there lions at large in Boston, Jack Hanmer'll lead you past 'em." + +"Like Mr. Greatheart in the parable," spoke up Ruth, whose eyes had been +taking stock of the proposed escort, though he stood in the penumbra and +at half the room's length away. "Tatty--if my lord permit and +Lieutenant Hanmer be willing--" + +She stood up, and with a curtsy to Sir Oliver, swept to the door. +Miss Quiney pattered after; and Mr. Hanmer, with a bow and hand lifted +to the salute, stalked out at their heels. + +"I'll warrant Jack Hanmer 'd liefer walk up to a gun," swore Captain +Harry as the curtain fell behind them. "He bolts from the sight of +Sally. I'll make Sally laugh over this." But here he pulled himself up +and added beneath his voice, "I can't tell her, though." + + +The road as it climbed above the town toward Sabines grew rough and full +of pitfalls. Even by the light of the full moon shining between the +elms Miss Quiney's chairmen were forced to pick their way warily, so +that the couple on the side-walk--which in comparison was well paved-- +easily kept abreast of them. + +Ruth walked with the free grace of a Dryad. The moonlight shone now and +again on her face beneath the arch of her wimple; and once, as she +glanced up at the heavens, Mr. Hanmer--interpreting that she lifted her +head to a scent of danger, and shooting a sidelong look despite +himself--surprised a lustre as of tears in her eyes; whereupon he felt +ashamed, as one who had intruded on a secret. + +"Mr. Hanmer." + +"Ma'am?" + +"I have a favour to beg. . . . Is it true, by the way," she asked +mischievously, "that to talk with a woman distresses you?" + +"Ma'am--" + +"My name is Ruth Josselin." + +Mr. Hanmer either missed to hear the correction or heard and put it +aside. "Been at sea all my life," he explained. "They caught me +young." + +Ruth looked sideways at him and laughed--a liquid little laugh, much +like the bubbling note of a thrush. "You could not have given an answer +more pat, sir. I want to speak to you about a child, caught young and +about to be taken to sea. You are less shy with children, I hope?" + +"Not a bit," confessed Mr. Hanmer. He added, "They take to me, though-- +the few I've met. + +"Dick will take to you, for certain. Dicky is Sir Oliver's child." + +"I didn't know--" Mr. Hanmer came to a full stop. + +"No," said Ruth, as though she echoed him. "He is eight years old +almost." Her eyes looked straight ahead, but she was aware that his had +scanned her face for a moment, and almost she felt his start of +reassurance. + +"So, the child being a friend of mine, and his father having promised +him a cruise in the _Venus_, you see that I very much want to know what +manner of lady is Captain Harry's wife; and that I could not ask you +point-blank because you would have set the question down to idle +curiosity. . . . It might make all the difference to him," she added, +getting no answer. + +"A child of eight, and the country at war!" Mr. Hanmer muttered. +"His father must know that we cruise ready for action." + +"I tell you, sir, what Dicky told me this morning." + +"But it's impossible!" + +"To that, sir, I might find you half a dozen answers. To begin with, we +all know--and Sir Oliver perhaps, from private information, knows better +than any of us--that peace is in sight. Here in the northern Colonies +it has arrived already; the enemy has no fleet on this side of the +world, and on this coast no single ship to give you any concern." + +"Guarda-costas? There may be a few left on the prowl, even in these +latitudes. I don't believe it for my part; we've accounted for most of +'em. Still--" + +"And Captain Harry thinks so much of them that he sails from Carolina to +Boston with his bride on board!" + +"You are right, Miss Josselin, and you are wrong. . . . Mistress Vyell +has come to Boston in the _Venus_; and by reason that her husband, when +he started, had as little acquaintance with fear for others as for +himself. But if she return to Carolina it will be by land or when peace +is signed. Love has made the Captain think; and thought has made him-- +well, with madam on board, I am thankful--" He checked himself. + +"You are thankful he did not sight a guarda-costa." She concluded the +sentence for him, and walked some way in silence, while he at her side +was silent, being angry at having said so much. + +"Yet Captain Harry is recklessly brave?" she mused. + +"To the last degree, Miss Josselin," Mr. Hanmer agreed eagerly. "To the +last degree within the right military rules. Fighting a ship's an art, +you see." + +It seemed that she did not hear him. "It runs in the blood," she said. +She was thinking, fearfully yet exultantly, of this wonderful power of +women, for whose sake cowards will behave as heroes and heroes turn to +cowards. + +They had outstripped the chairmen, and were at the gate of Sabines. +He held it open for her. She bethought her that his last two or three +sentences had been firmly spoken, that his voice had shaken off its +husky stammer, and on the impulse of realised power she took a fancy to +hear it tremble again. + +"But if madam will not be on board to look after Dicky, the more will he +need a friend. Mr. Hanmer, will you be that friend?" + +"You are choosing a rough sort of nurse-maid." + +"But will you?" She faced him, wonderful in the moonlight. + +His eyes dropped. His voice stammered, "I--I will do my best, Miss +Josselin." + +She held out a hand. He took it perforce in his rope-roughened paw, +held it awkwardly for a moment, and released it as one lets a bird +escape. + +Ruth smiled. "The best of women," ran a saying of Batty Langton's, +"if you watch 'em, are always practising; even the youngest, as a kitten +plays with a leaf." + +They stood in silence, waiting for the chair to overtake them. + + +"Tatty, you are a heroine!" + +Miss Quiney, unwinding a shawl from her head under the hall-lamp, +released herself from Ruth's embrace. Her nerve had been strained and +needed a recoil. + +"Maybe," she answered snappishly. "For my part, I'd take more comfort, +just now, to be called a respectable woman." + +Ruth laughed, kissed her again, and stood listening to the footsteps as +they retreated down the gravelled way. Among them her ear +distinguished easily the firm tread of Mr. Hanmer. + + + +Chapter VII. + + +FIRST OFFER. + + +A little before noon next day word came to her room that Sir Oliver had +called and desired to speak with her. + +She was not unprepared. She had indeed dressed with special care in +the hope of it; but she went to her glass and stood for a minute or two, +touching here and there her seemly tresses. + +Should she keep him waiting--keep him even a long while? . . . +He deserved it. . . . But ah, no! She was under a vow never to be other +than forthright with him; and the truth was, his coming filled her with +joy. + + +"I am glad you have come!" These, in fact, were her first words as he +turned to face her in the drawing-room. He had been standing by the +broad window-seat, staring out on the roses. + +"You guess, of course, what has brought me?" He had dressed himself +with extreme care. His voice was steady, his eye clear, and only a +touch of pallor told of the overnight debauch. "I am here to be +forgiven." + +"Who am I, to forgive?" + +"If you say that, you make it three times worse for me. Whatever you +are does not touch my right to ask your pardon, or my need to be +forgiven--which is absolute." + +"No," she mused, "you are right. . . . Have you asked pardon of Tatty?" + +"I have, ten minutes ago. She sent the message to you." + +"Tatty was heroic"--Ruth paused on the reminiscence with a smile--" +and, if you will believe me, quite waspish when I told her so." + +"You should have refused to come. You might have known that I was +drunk, or I could never have sent." + +"How does it go?" She stood before him, puckering her brows a little as +she searched to remember the words--"'_On the seventh day, when the +heart of the king was merry with wine, he commanded the seven +chamberlains_--'" + +"Spare me." + +"'--_to bring Vasbti the queen before the king with the crown royal, to +show the people and the princes her beauty, for she was fair to look +on_.' Do I quote immodestly, my lord?" + +"Not immodestly," he answered. "For I think--I'll be sworn--no woman +ever had half your beauty without knowing it. But you quote +_mal a propos_. Queen Vashti refused to come." + +"'_Therefore was the king very wroth, and his anger burned in him_.'" + +"I think, again, that you were not the woman to obey any such fear." + +"No. Queen Vashti refused to come, being a queen. Whereas I, my lord-- + + "'Being your slave, what should I do but tend + Upon the hours and times of your desire?'" + +"My slave?" he asked. "Setting aside last night--when I was +disgustingly drunk--have you a single excuse for using that word?" + +"Of your giving, none. You have been more than considerate. Of my own +choosing, yes." + +He stared. + +"At any rate Tatty is not your slave," she went on, and he smiled with +her. "I am glad you asked Tatty's pardon. Did she forgive you +easily?" + +"Too easily. She was aware, she said, that gentlemen would be +gentlemen." + +"She must have meant precisely the reverse." + +"Was I pretty bad?" + +She put a hand across her eyes as if to brush the image from them. +"What matters the degree? It was another man seated and wearing my +lord's body. _That_ hurt." + +"By God, Ruth, it shall never happen again!" + +She winced as he spoke her name, and her colour rose. "Please make no +promise in haste," she said. + +"Excuse me; when a man takes an oath for life, the quicker he's through +with it the better--at least that's the way with us Vyells. +It's trifles--like getting drunk, for instance--we do deliberately. +Believe me, child, I have a will of my own." + +"Yes," she meditated, "I believe you have a strong will." + +"'Tis a swinish business, over-drinking, when all's said and done." +He announced it as if he made a discovery; and indeed something of a +discovery it was, for that age. "Weakens a man's self-control, besides +dulling his palate. . . . They tell me, by the way, that after you left +I beat Silk." + +Ruth looked grave. "You did wrong, then." + +"Silk is a beast." + +"An excellent reason for not making him your guest; none for striking +him at your own table." + +"Perhaps not." Sir Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Well, he can have +his revenge, if he wants it." + +"How so? As a clergyman he cannot offer to fight you, and as a coward +he would not if he could." + +"Is one, then, to be considerate with cowards?" + +"Certainly, if you honour cowards with your friendship." + +"Friendship! . . . The dog likes his platter and I suffer him for his +talk. When his talk trespasses beyond sufferance, I chastise him. +That's how I look at it." + +"I am sorry, my lord, that Mr. Silk should make the third on your list +this morning." + +"Oh, come; you don't ask me to _apologise_ to Silk!" + +"To him rather than to me." + +"But--oh nonsense! He was disgusting--unspeakable, I tell you. If you +suppose I struck him for nothing--" + +"I do not." + +"You cannot think what he said." + +"Something about me, was it not?" Then, as Sir Oliver stood silent, +"Something a great many folk--your guests included--are quite capable of +thinking about me, though they have not Mr. Silk's gift of language." + +"--That gift for which (you will go on to remind me) I suffer him." + +"No; that gift which (you said) trespasses beyond sufferance." +She did not remind him that he, after all, had exposed her and provoked +Mr. Silk's uncleanly words. + + +Both were beating time now. He had come, as was meet, to offer an +apology, and with no intent beyond. He found not only that Ruth +Josselin was grown a woman surpassing fair, but that her mere presence +(it seemed, by no will of hers, but in spite of her will) laid hold of +him, commanding him to face a further intent. It was wonderful, and yet +just at this moment it mattered little, that the daylight soberly +confirmed what had dazzled his drunkenness over night; that her speech +added good sense to beauty. . . . What mattered at the moment was a +sense of urgency, oppressing and oppressed by an equal sense of +helplessness. + +He had set the forces working and, with that, had chosen to stand +aside--in indolence partly, partly in a careful cultivated indifference, +but in part also obeying motives more creditable. He had stood aside, +promising the result, but himself dallying with time. And lo! of a +sudden the result had overtaken him. Had he created a monster, in place +of a beautiful woman, he had not been more at its mercy. + +But why this sense of urgency? And why should he allow it to oppress +him? + +Here was a creature exquisite, desirable, educated for no purpose but to +be his. Then why not declare himself, leap the last easy fence and in a +short while make her his? + +To be sure her education--which, as we have seen, owned one source and +spring, the passion to make herself perfect for his sake--had fashioned +a woman very different to the woman of _his_ planning. She had built +not upon his careless defective design but upon her own incessant +instinct for the best. So much his last night's blunder had taught him. +He had sent for her as for a handmaid; and as a handmaid she had +obeyed--but in spirit as a queen. + +To put it brutally, she could raise her terms, and he as a gentleman +could not beat her down. With ninety-nine women out of a hundred those +higher terms could be summed up in one word--marriage. Well and again, +why not? He was rich and his own master. In all but her poor origin +and the scandal of an undeserved punishment she was worthy--more than +worthy; and for the Colonials, among whom alone that scandal would count +against her, he had a habit of contempt. He could, and would in his +humour, force Boston to court her salons and hold its tongue from all +but secret tattle. The thought, too, of Lady Caroline at this moment +crossing the high seas to be met with the news agreeably moved him to +mirth. + +But somehow, face to face here, he divined that Ruth was not as +ninety-nine women in the hundred; that her terms were different. +They might he less, but also they were more. They might be less. +Had she not crossed her arms and told him she was his slave? But in +that very humility he read that they were more. There was no last easy +fence. There was no fence at all. But a veil there was; a veil he +lacked the insight to penetrate, the brutality to tear aside. + +Partly to assure himself, partly to tempt her from this mysterious ring +of defence, he went on, "I ought to apologise, too, for having sent Silk +yesterday with my message. You received it?" + +She bent her head. + +"My aunt and cousin invite themselves to Boston, and give me no chance +to say anything but 'Welcome.' Two pistols held to my head." +He laughed. "There's a certain downrightness in Lady Caroline. +And what do you suppose she wants?" + +"Mr. Silk says she wants you to marry your cousin." + +"Told you that, did he?" His eyes were on her face, but it had not +changed colour; her clear gaze yet baffled him. "Well, and what do you +say?" + +"Must I say anything?" + +"Well"--he gave a short, impatient laugh--"we can hardly pretend--can +we?--that it doesn't concern you." + +"I do not pretend it," she answered. "I am yours, to deal with as you +will; to dismiss when you choose. I can never owe you anything but +gratitude." + +"Ruth, will you marry me?" + +He said it with the accent of passion, stepping half a pace forward, +holding out his hands. She winced and drew back a little; she, too, +holding out her hands, but with the palms turned downward. Upon that +movement his passion hung fire. (Was it actual passion, or rather a +surrender to the inevitable--to a feeling that it had all happened +fatally, beyond escape, that now--beautiful, wonderful as she had +grown--he could never do without her? At any rate their hands, +outstretched thus, did not meet.) + +"You talked lightly just now," she said, and with the smallest catch in +her voice, "of vows made in haste. You forget your vow that after three +years I should go back--go back whence you took me--and choose." + +"No," he corrected. "My promise was that you should go back and +announce your choice. If some few months are to run, nothing hinders +your choosing here and now. I do not ask you to marry me before the +term is out, but only to make up your mind. You hear what I offer?" + +She swept him a low, obedient bow. "I do, and it is much to me, my dear +lord. Oh, believe me, it is very much! . . . But I do not think I want +to be your wife--thus." + +"You could not love me? Is that what you mean?" + +"Not love you?" Her voice, sweet and low, choked on the words. +"Not love you?" she managed to repeat. "You, who came to me as a god-- +to me, a poor tavern drudge--who lifted me from the cart, the scourge; +lifted me out of ignorance, out of shame? Lord--love--doubt what you +will of me--but not that!" + +"You do love me? Then why--" He paused, wondering. The impalpable +barrier hung like a mist about his wits. + +"Did Andromeda not love Perseus, think you?" she asked lightly, +recovering her smile, albeit her eyes were dewy. + +"I am dull, then," he confessed. "I certainly do not understand." + +"You came to me as a god when you saved me. Shall you come to me as +less by an inch when you stoop to love me?" + +"Ah!" he said, as if at length he comprehended; "I was drunk last night, +and you must have time to get that image out of your mind." + +She shook her head slowly. "You did not ask me last night to marry you. +I shall always, I think, be able to separate an unworthy image of you, +and forget it." + +"Then you must mean that I am yet unworthy." + +"My dear lord," she said after a moment or two, in which she seemed to +consider how best to make it plain to him, "you asked me just now to +marry you, but not because you knew me to be worthy; and though you may +command what you choose, and I can deny you nothing, I would not +willingly be your wife for a smaller reason. Nor did you ask me in the +strength of your will, your passion even, but in their weakness. +Am I not right?" + +He was dumb. + +"And is it thus," she went on, "that the great ones love and beget noble +children?" + +"I see," he said at length, and very slowly. "It means that I must very +humbly become your wooer." + +"It means that, if it be my honour ever to reward you, I would fain it +were with the best of me. . . . Send me away from Sabines, my lord, and +be in no hurry to choose. Your cousin--what is her name? Oh, I shall +not be jealous!" + +With a change of tone she led him to talk of the new home he had +prepared for her--at a farmstead under Wachusett. He was sending +thither two of his gentlest thoroughbreds, that she might learn to ride. + +"Books, too, you shall have in plenty," he promised. "But there will be +a dearth of tutors, I fear. I could not, for example, very well ask Mr. +Hichens to leave his cure of souls and dwell with two maiden ladies in +the wilderness." + +She laughed. Her eyes sparkled already at the thought of learning to +be a horsewoman. + +"I will do without tutors." She spread her arms wide, as with a +swimmer's motion, and he could not but note the grace of it. The palms, +turned outward and slightly downward, had an eloquence, too, which he +interpreted. + +"I have mewed you here too long. You sigh for liberty." + +She nodded, drawing a long breath. "I come from the sea-beach, +remember." + +"Say but the word, and instead of the mountain, the beach shall be +yours." + +"No. I have never seen a mountain. It will have the sound of waters, +too--of its own cataracts. And on the plain I shall learn to gallop, +and feel the wind rushing past me. These things, and a few books, and +Tatty--" Here she broke off, on a sudden thought. "My lord, there is a +question I have put to myself many times, and have promised myself to +put to you. Why does Tatty never talk to me about God and religion and +such things?" + +He did not answer at once. + +She went on: "It cannot only be because you do not believe in them. +For Tatty is very religious, and brave as a lion; she would never be +silent against her conscience." + +"How do you know that I don't believe in them?" + +She laughed. "Does my lord truly suppose me so dull of wit? or will he +fence with my question instead of answering it?" + +"The truth is, then," he confessed, "that before she saw you I thought +fit to tell Miss Quiney what you had suffered--" + +"She has known it from the first? I wondered sometimes. But oh, the +dear deceit of her!" + +"--And seeing that this same religion had caused your sufferings, I +asked her to deal gently with you. She would not promise more than to +wait and choose her own time. But Tatty, as you call her, is an +honourable woman." + +Ruth stretched out her hands. + +"Ah, you were good--you were good! . . . If only my heart were a glass, +and you might see how goodness becomes you!" + +He took her hands this time, and laying one over another, kissed the +back of the uppermost, but yet so respectfully that Miss Quiney, +entering the room just then, supposed him to be merely taking a +ceremonious leave. + + +For a few minutes he lingered out his call, hat and walking-cane in +hand, talking pleasantly of his last night's guests, and with a smile +that assumed his pardon to be granted. Incidentally Ruth learned how it +had happened that a chair stood empty for her by Mr. Langton's side. +It appeared that Governor Shirley himself had called, earlier in the +evening, to offer his felicitations; and finding the seat on Sir +Oliver's right occupied by a toper who either would not or could not +make room, he had with some tact taken a chair at the far end of the +table and _vis-a-vis_ with his host, protesting that he chose it as the +better vantage-ground for delivering a small speech. His speech, too, +had been neat, happy in phrase, and not devoid of good feeling. Having +delivered it, he had slipped away early, on an excuse of official +business. + +Sir Oliver related this appreciatively; and it had, in fact, been one of +those small courtesies which, among men of English stock, give a grace +to public life and help to keep the fighting clean. But in fact also +(Ruth gathered) the two men did not love one another. Shirley--able and +_ruse_ statesman--had some sense of colonial independence, colonial +ambition, colonial self-respect. Sir Oliver had none; he was a Whig +patrician, and the colonies existed for the use and patronage of +England. More than a year before, when Massachusetts raised a militia +and went forth to capture Louisbourg--which it did, to the astonishment +of the world--the Governor, whose heart was set on the expedition, had +approached Captain Vyell and privately begged him to command it. He was +answered that, having once borne the King's commission, Captain Vyell +did not find a colonial uniform to his taste. + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +CONCERNING MARGARET. + + +He called again, next morning. He came on horseback, followed by a +groom. The groom led a light chestnut mare, delicate of step us a +dancer, and carrying a side-saddle. + +Ruth's ear had caught the sound of hoofs. She looked forth at her open +window as Sir Oliver reined up and hailed, frank as a schoolboy. + +"Your first riding lesson!" he announced. + +"But I have no riding-skirt," she objected, her eyes opening wide with +delight as they looked down and scanned the mare. + +"You shall have one to-morrow." He swung himself out of saddle and gave +over his own horse to the groom. "To-day you have only to learn how to +sit and hold the reins and ride at a walk." + +She caught up a hat and ran downstairs, blithe as a girl should be +blithe. + + +He taught her to set her foot in his hand and lifted her into place. + +"But are you not riding also?" she asked as he took the leading-rein. + +"No. I shall walk beside you to-day . . . Now take up the reins--so; in +both hands, please. That will help you to sit square and keep the right +shoulder back, which with a woman is half the secret of a good seat. +Where a man uses grip, she uses balance. . . . For the same reason you +must not draw the feet back; it throws your body forward and off its +true poise on the hips." + +She began to learn at once and intelligently; for, unlike her other +tutors, he started with simple principles and taught her nothing without +giving its reason. He led her twice around the open gravelled space +before the house, and so aside and along a grassy pathway that curved +between the elms to the right. The pathway was broad and allowed him to +walk somewhat wide of the mare, yet not so wide as to tauten the +leading-rein, which he held (as she learned afterwards) merely to give +her confidence; for the mare was docile and would follow him at a word. + +"I am telling you the why-and-how of it all," he said, "because after +this week you will be teaching yourself. This week I shall come every +morning for an hour; but on Wednesday you start for Sweetwater Farm." + +"And will there be nobody at the Farm to help me," she asked, a trifle +dismayed. + +"The farmer--his name is Cordery--rides, after a fashion. But he knows +nothing of a side-saddle, if indeed he has ever seen one." + +"Then to trot, canter, and gallop I must teach myself," she thought; for +among the close plantations of Sabines there was room for neither. +"If I experiment here, they will find me hanging like Absalom from a +bough." But aloud she said nothing of her tremors. + +"Dicky sits a horse remarkably well for his age," said Sir Oliver after +a pause. "I had some thought to pack him off holidaying with you. +But the puppy has taken to the water like a spaniel. He went off to the +_Venus_ yesterday, and it seems that on board of her he struck up, there +and then, a close friendship with Harry's lieutenant, a Mr. Hanmer; and +now he can talk of nothing but rigging and running-gear. He's crazed +for a cruise and a hammock. Also it would seem that he used his time to +win the affections of Madam Harry; which argues that his true calling is +not the Navy, after all, but diplomacy." + +Ruth sighed inaudibly. Dicky's companionship would have been +delightful. But she knew the child's craze, and would not claim him, to +mar his bliss--though she well knew that at a word from her he would +renounce it. + +"Diplomacy?" she echoed. + +"Well," said Sir Oliver, looking straight before him. "Sally--my +brother insists on calling her Sally--appears to have her head fixed +well on her shoulders: she looks--as you must not forget to look-- +straight between the horse's ears. But your young bride is apt to be +the greatest prude in the world. And Dicky, you see--" + +Her hand weighed on the rein and brought the mare to a halt. + +"Tell me about Dicky?" + +"About Dicky?" he repeated. + +"About his mother, then." + +"She is dead," he answered, staring at the mare's glossy shoulder and +smoothing it. His brows were bent in a frown. + +"Yes . . . he told me that, in the coach, on our way from Port Nassau. +It was the first thing he told me when he awoke. We had been rolling +along the beach for hours in the dark; and I remember how, almost at the +end of the beach, it grew light inside the coach and he opened his +eyes. . . ." + +She did not relate that the child had awaked in her arms. + +"It was the first thing Dicky told me," she repeated; "and the only +thing about--her. I think it must be the only thing he knows about +her." + +"Probably; for she died when he was born and--well, as the child grew +up, it was not easy to explain to him. Other folks, no doubt--the +servants and suchlike--were either afraid to tell or left it to me as my +business. And I am an indolent parent." He paused and added, +"To be quite honest, I dare say I distasted the job and shirked it." + +"You did wrongly then," murmured Ruth, and her eyes were moist. +"Dicky started with a great hole in his life, and you left it unfilled. +Often, being lonely, he must have needed to know something of his +mother. You should have told him all that was good; and that was not +little, I think, if you had loved her?" + +"I loved her to folly," he answered at length, his eyes still fixed on +the mare's shoulder; "and yet not to folly, for she was a good woman: a +married woman, some three or four years older than I and close upon +twenty years younger than her husband, who was major of my regiment." + +"You ran away with her? . . . Say that he was not your friend." + +"He was not; and you may put it more correctly that I helped her to run +away from him. He was a drunkard, and in private he ill-used her +disgustingly. . . . Having helped her to escape I offered him his +satisfaction. He refused to divorce her; but we fought and I ran him +through the arm to avoid running him through the body, for he was a +shockingly bad swordsman." + +Ruth frowned. "You could not marry her?" + +"No, and to kill him was no remedy; for if I could not marry an +undivorced woman, as little could she have married her husband's +murderer." He hunched his shoulders and concluded, "The dilemma is not +unusual." + +"What happened, then?" + +"My mother paid twenty calls upon the Duke of Newcastle, and after the +twentieth I received the Collectorship of this port of Boston. +It was exile, but lucrative exile. My good mother is a Whig and devout; +and there is nothing like that combination for making the best of both +worlds. Indeed you may say that at this point she added the New World, +and made the best of all three. She assured me that its solitudes would +offer, among other advantages, great opportunity for repentance. +'Of course,' she said, 'if you must take the woman, you must.'" + +He ended with a short laugh. Ruth did not laugh. Her mind was +masculine at many points, but like a true woman she detested ironical +speech. + +"That is Mr. Langton's way of talking," she said; "and you are using it +to hide your feelings. Will you tell me her name?--her Christian name +only?" + +"She was called Margaret--Margaret Dance. There is no reason why you +should not have it in full." + +"Is there a portrait of her?" + +"Yes; as a girl she sat to Kneller--a Dryad leaning against an oak. +The picture hangs in my dressing-room." + +"It should have hung, rather, in Dicky's nursery; which," she added, +picking up and using the weapon she most disliked, "need not have +debarred your seeing it from time to time." + +He glanced up, for he had never before heard her speak thus sharply. + +"Perhaps you are right," he agreed; "though, for me, I let the dead bury +the dead. I have no belief, remember, in any life beyond this one. +Margaret is gone, and I see not how, being dead, she can advantage me or +Dicky." + +His words angered Ruth and at the same time subtly pleased her; and on +second thoughts angered her the more for having pleased. She thought +scorn of herself for her momentary jealousy of the dead; scorn for +having felt relief at his careless tone; and some scorn to be soothed by +a doctrine that, in her heart, she knew to be false. + +For the moment her passions were like clouds in thunder weather, +mounting against the wind; and in the small tumult of them she let +jealousy dart its last lightning tongue. + +"I am not learned in these matters, my lord. But I have heard that man +must make a deity of something. The worse sort of unbeliever, they say, +lives in the present and burns incense to himself. The better sort, +having no future to believe in, idolises his past." + +"Margaret is dead," he repeated. "I am no sentimentalist." + +She bent her head. To herself she whispered. "He may not idolise his +past, yet he cannot escape from it." . . . And her thoughts might have +travelled farther, but she had put the mare to a walk again and just +then her ears caught an unaccustomed sound, or confusion of sounds. + +At the end of the alley she reined up, wide-eyed. + +A narrow gateway here gave access to what had yesterday been a sloping +paddock where Miss Quiney grazed a couple of cows. To-day the cows had +vanished and given way to a small army of labourers. Broad strips of +turf had vanished also and the brown loam was moving downhill in scores +of wheel-barrows, to build up the slope to a level. + +Sir Oliver marked her amazement and answered it with an easy laugh. + +"The time is short, you see, and already we have wasted half an hour of +it unprofitably. . . . These fellows appear to be working well." + +She gazed at the moving gangs as one who, having come by surprise upon a +hive of bees, stands still and cons the small creatures at work. + +"But what is the meaning of it?" + +"The meaning? Why, that for this week I am your riding-master, and that +by to-morrow you will have a passable riding-school." + + + +Chapter IX. + + +THE PROSPECT. + + +This happened on a Thursday. On the following Wednesday, a while before +day-break, he met her on horseback by the gate of Sabines, and they rode +forth side by side, ahead of the coach wherein Miss Quiney sat piled +about with baggage, clutching in one hand a copy of Baxter's _Saint's +Everlasting Rest_ and with the other the ring of a canary-cage. (It was +Dicky's canary, and his first love-offering. Yesterday had been Ruth's +birthday--her eighteenth--and under conduct of Manasseh he had visited +Sabines to wish her "many happy returns" and to say good-bye.) + +Sir Oliver would escort the travellers for twelve miles on their way, to +a point where the inland road broke into cart-tracks, and the tracks +diverged across a country newly disafforested and strewn with jagged +stumps among which the heavy vehicle could by no means be hauled. +Here Farmer Cordery was to be in waiting with his light tilt-covered +wagon. + +They had started thus early because the season was hot and they desired +to traverse the open highway and the clearings and to reach the forest +before the sun's rays grew ardent. Once past the elms of Sabines their +road lay broad before them, easy to discern; for the moon, well in her +third quarter, rode high, with no trace of cloud or mist. So clear she +shone that in imagination one could reach up and run a finger along her +hard bright edge; and under moon and stars a land-breeze, virginally +cool, played on our two riders' cheeks. Ungloving and stretching forth +a hand, Ruth felt the dew falling, as it had been falling ever since +sundown; and under that quiet lustration the world at her feet and +around her, unseen as yet, had been renewed, the bee-ravished flowers +replaced with blossoms ready to unfold, the turf revived, reclothed in +young green, the atmosphere bathed, cleansed of exhausted scents, made +ready for morning's "bridal of the earth and sky ":-- + +"_As a vesture shall he fold them up. . . . In them hath he set a +tabernacle for the sun; which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his +chamber, and rejoiceth as a giant to run his course_." + +Darkling they rode, and in silence, as though by consent. Ruth had +never travelled this high way before: it glimmered across a country of +which she knew nothing and could see nothing. But no shadow of fear +crossed her spirit. Her heart was hushed; yet it exulted, because her +lord rode beside her. + +They had ridden thus without speech for three or four miles, when her +chestnut blundered, tripped, and was almost down. + +"All right?" he asked, as she reined up and steadied the mare. + +"Yes. . . . She gave me a small fright, though." + +"What happened? It looked to me as if she came precious near crossing +her feet. If she repeats that trick by daylight I'll cast her--as I +would to-morrow, if I were sure." + +"Is it so bad a trick?" + +"It might break your neck. It would certainly bring her down and break +her knees." + +"Oh!" Ruth shivered. "Do you mean that it would actually break them?" +she asked in her ignorance. + +He laughed. "Well, that's possible; but I meant the skin of the knee." + +"That would heal, surely?" + +He laughed again. "A horse is like a woman--" he began, but checked +himself of a sudden. She waited for him to continue, and he went on, +"It knocks everything off the price, you see. Some won't own a horse +that has once been down; and any knowledgeable man can tell, at a +glance. It is the first thing he looks for." + +She considered for a moment. "But if the mark had been a scratch only-- +and the scratch had healed--might she not be as good a horse as ever?" + +"It would damage her price, none the less." + +"But you are not a horse-dealer. Would _you_ value a horse by its +selling price?" + +He laughed. "I am afraid," he owned, "that I should be ruled by other +men's opinions. Your connoisseur does not collect chipped chinaware. +. . . There's the chance, too, that the mare, having once fallen, will +throw herself again by the same trick." + +"And women are like horses," thought Ruth as they rode on. The night +was paling about them, and she watched the rolling champaign as little +by little it took shape, emerging from the morning mist and passing from +monochrome into faint colours: for albeit the upper sky was clear as +ever, mist filled the hollows of the hills and rolled up their sides +like a smoke. + +"Look!" commanded Sir Oliver, reining up and turning in his saddle. + +He pointed with his horse-whip. Behind them, over a tree-clad hill, lay +a long purple cloud; and above it, while he pointed, the sun thrust its +edge as it were the rim of a golden paten. Ruth wheeled her mare about, +to face the spectacle, and at that moment the cloud parted horizontally +as though a hand had ripped the veil across. A flood of gold poured +through the rent, dazzling her eyes. + +The sun mounted and swam free: the upper portion of the veil floated off +like a wisp and drifted down the wind. Where the glory had shone, it +lingered through tint after tint--rose, pale lemon, palest sea-green-- +and so passed into azure and became one with the rest of the heavens. + +Sir Oliver withdrew his eyes and sought hers. "When I find the need of +faith," he said, "I shall turn sun-worshipper." + +"You have never found that need?" she asked slowly. + +"Never," he confessed. "And you?" + +"Never as a need. I mean," she explained, "that though I always +despised religion--yes, always, even before I came to hate it--I never +doubted that some wisdom must be at watch and at work all around me, +ordering the sun and stars, for instance, and separating right from +wrong. I just cannot understand how any one can do without a faith of +that sort: it's as necessary as breath." + +He shrugged his shoulders. "To me one Jehovah's as good as another, as +unnecessary, and as incredible. I find it easier to believe that chaos +hurtled around until it struck out some working balance; that the stars +learned their places pretty much as men and women are learning theirs +to-day. A painful process, I'll grant you, and damnably tedious; but +they came to it in the end, and so in the end, maybe, will poor +imitative man. But," he broke off, "this faith of yours must have +failed you, once." + +She shivered. "No; I made no claim on it, you see. Perhaps"--with a +little smile--"I did not think myself important enough. I only know +that, whatever was right, those men were horribly wrong: for it _must_ +be wrong to be cruel. Then I woke up, and you were beside me--" + +She would have added, "How could I doubt, then?" But her voice failed +her, and she wheeled about that he might not see her tears. + +He, too, turned his horse. They rode on for a few paces in silence. + +"I wish," she said, recovering her voice--"I wish, for your sake, you +could have felt what I have been feeling since we left Sabines; the +_goodness_ all about us, watching us out of the night and the stars." + +She looked up; but the stars were gone, faded out into daylight. He +pushed his horse half a pace ahead, and glanced sideways at her face. +Tears shone yet in her eyes, and his own, as he quickly averted them, +fell on a tall mullein growing by the roadside. Big drops of dew +adhered upon its woolly leaves and twinkled in the sunshine; and by +contrast he knew the colour of her eyes--that they were violet and of +the night--their dew distilled out of such violet darkness as had been +the quality of one or two Mediterranean nights that lingered among his +memories of the Grand Tour. More and more this girl surprised him with +graces foreign to this colonial soil, graces supposed by him to be +classical and lost, the appanage of goddesses. + +Like a goddess now she lifted an arm and pointed west, as he had pointed +east. Ahead of them, to the right of the road, rose a tall hill, wooded +at the base, broken at the summit by craggy terraces. Two large birds +wheeled and hovered above it, high in the blue, fronting the sunlight. + +"Eagles, by Jove!" cried Sir Oliver. + +Ruth drew a breath and watched them. She had never before seen an +eagle. + +"Will they have their nest in the cliffs?" she asked. + +"Perhaps. . . . No, more likely they come from Wachusett; more likely +still, from the mountains beyond. They are here seeking food." + +"They do not appear to be seeking food," she said after a pause during +which she watched their ambits of flight circling and intersecting +"See the nearest one mounting, and the other lifting on a wider curve to +meet him above. One would say they followed some pattern, like folks +dancing." + +"Some act of homage to the sun," he suggested. "They have come down to +the sea to meet him--they look over the Atlantic from aloft there--and +perform in his honour. Who knows?" + +Across Ruth's inner vision there flashed a memory of Mr. Hichens, +black-suited and bald, bending over his Hebrew Bible and expounding a +passage of Job: "_Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her +nest on high? She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, upon the crag of +the rock, and the strong place_. . . ." + +To herself she said: "If it be so, the eagle's faith is mine; my lord's +also, perchance, if he but knew it." + +Aloud she asked, "Why are the noblest, birds and beasts, so few and +solitary?" + +Sir Oliver laughed. "You may include man. The answer is the same, and +simple: the strong of the earth feed on the weak, and it takes all the +weaklings to make blood for the few." + +She mused; but when she spoke again it was not to dispute with him. +"You say they look over the sea from aloft there. Might we have sight +of it from the top of the hill?" + +"Perhaps. There is plenty of time to make sure before the coach +overtakes us--though I warn you it will be risky." + +"I am not afraid." + +They cantered off gaily, plunged into the woods and breasted the slope, +Sir Oliver leading and threading his way through the undergrowth. +By-and-by they came to the bed of a torrent and followed it up, the +horses picking their steps upon the flat boulders between which the +water trickled. Some of these boulders were slimed and slippery, and +twice Sir Oliver reached out a hand and hauled the mare firmly on to her +quarters. + +The belt of crags did not run completely around the hill. At the back +of it, after a scramble out of the gully, they came on a slope of good +turf, and so cantered easily to the summit. + +Ruth gave a little cry of delight, and followed it up with a yet smaller +one of disappointment. The country lay spread at her feet like a vast +amphitheatre, ringed with wooded hills. Across the plain they encircled +a river ran in loops, and from the crag at the edge of which she stood a +streamlet emerged and took a brave leap down the hill to join it. + +"But where is the sea?" + +"That small hill yonder must hide it. You see it, with its line of +elms? If those trees were down, we should see the Atlantic for a +certainty. If you like the spot otherwise, I will have them removed." + +He said it seriously; but of course she took it for granted that he +spoke in jest, albeit the jest puzzled her a little. Indeed when she +glanced up at him he was smiling, with his eyes on the distant +landscape. + +"The mountain too," he added, "if the trees will not suffice. Though +not by faith, it shall be removed." + + + +Chapter X. + + +THREE LADIES. + + +"You may smoke," said Dicky politely, setting down his glass. + +"Thank you," answered Mr. Hanmer. "But are you sure? In my experience +of houses there's always some one that objects." + +Dicky lifted his chin. "We call this the nursery because it has always +been the nursery. But I do what I like here." + +Mr. Hanmer had accepted the boy's invitation to pay him a visit ashore +and help him to rig a model cutter--a birthday gift from his father; and +the pair had spent an afternoon upon it, seated upon the floor with the +toy between them and a litter of twine everywhere, Dicky deep in the +mysteries of knots and splices, the lieutenant whittling out miniature +blocks and belaying-pins with a knife that seemed capable of anything. + +They had been interrupted by Manasseh, bearing a tray of refreshments-- +bread and honey and cakes, with a jug of milk for the one; for the other +a decanter of brown sherry with a dish of ratafia biscuits. The repast +was finished now, and Dicky, eager to fall to work again, feared that +his friend might make an excuse for departing. + +Mr. Hanmer put a hand in his pocket and drew out his pipe. + +"Your father would call it setting a bad example, I doubt?" + +To this the boy, had he been less loyal, might have answered that his +father took no great stock in examples, bad or good. He said: +"Papa smokes. He says it is cleaner than taking snuff; and so it is, if +you have ever seen Mr. Silk's waistcoat." + +So Mr. Hanmer filled and lit his pipe, doing wonders with a pocket +tinder-box. Dicky watched the process gravely through every detail, +laying up hints for manhood. + +"I ought to have asked you before," he said. "Nobody comes here ever, +except Mr. Silk and the servants." + +Hapless speech and bootless boast! They had scarcely seated themselves +to work again, the lieutenant puffing vigorously, before they heard +footsteps in the corridor, with a rustle of silks, and a hand tapped on +the door. + +It opened as Dicky jumped to his feet, calling "Come in!"--and on the +threshold appeared Mrs. Vyell, in walking dress. Dicky liked "Mrs. +Harry," as he called her; but he stared in dismay at two magnificent +ladies in the doorway behind her, and more especially at the elder of +the twain, who, attired in puce-coloured silk, stiff as a board, walked +in lifting a high patrician nose and exclaiming,-- + +"Fah! What a detestable odour!" + +Mr. Hanmer hurriedly hid his pipe and scrambled up, stammering an +apology. Dicky showed more self-possession. He gave a little bow to +the two strangers and turned to Mrs. Harry. + +"I am sorry, Aunt Sarah. But I didn't know, of course, that you were +coming and bringing visitors." + +"To be sure you did not, child," said Mrs. Harry with a good-natured +smile. She was a cheerful, commonsensical person, pleasant of face +rather than pretty, by no means wanting in wit, and radiant of +happiness, just now, as a young woman should be who has married the man +of her heart. "But let me present you--to Lady Caroline Vyell and Miss +Diana." + +Dicky bowed again. "I am sorry, ma'am," he repeated, addressing Lady +Caroline. "Mr. Hanmer has put out his pipe, you see, and the window is +open." + +Lady Caroline carried an eyeglass with a long handle of tortoise-shell. +Through it she treated Dicky to a deliberate and disconcerting scrutiny, +and lowered it to turn and ask Mrs. Harry,-- + +"You permit him to call you 'Aunt Sarah'?" + +Mrs. Harry laughed. "It sounds better, you will admit, than +'Aunt Sally,' and don't necessitate my carrying a pipe in my mouth. +Oh yes," she added, with a glance at the boy's flushed face, "Dicky and +I are great friends. In any one's presence but Mr. Hanmer's I would say +'the best of friends.'" + +Lady Caroline turned her eyeglass upon Mr. Hanmer. "Is this--er-- +gentleman his tutor?" she asked. + +The question, and the sight of the lieutenant's mental distress, set +Mrs. Harry laughing again. "In seamanship only. Mr. Hanmer is my +husband's second-in-command and one of the best officers in the Navy." + +"I consider smoking a filthy habit," said Lady Caroline. + +"Yes, ma'am," murmured Mr. Hanmer. + +The odious eyeglass was turned upon Dicky again. He, to avoid it, +glanced aside at Miss Diana. He found Miss Diana less unpleasant than +her mother, but attractive only by contrast. She was a tall woman, +handsome but somewhat haggard, with a face saved indeed from peevishness +by its air of distinction, but scornful and discontented. She had been +riding, and her long, close habit became her well, as did her +wide-brimmed hat, severely trimmed with a bow of black ribbon and a +single ostrich feather. + +"Diana," said Lady Caroline, but without removing her stony stare, +"the child favours his mother." + +"Indeed!" the girl answered indifferently. "I never met her." + +"Oliver has her portrait somewhere, I believe. We must get him to show +it to us. A toast in her day, and quite notably good-looking--though +after a style I abominate." She turned to Mrs. Harry and explained: +"One of your helpless clinging women. In my experience that sort does +incomparably the worst mischief." + +"Oh, hush, please!" murmured Mrs. Harry. + +But Lady Caroline came of a family addicted to speaking its thoughts +aloud. "Going to sea, is he? Well, on the whole Oliver couldn't do +better. The boy's position here must be undesirable in many ways; and +at sea a lad stands on his own feet--eh, Mr.--I did not catch your +name?" + +"Hanmer, ma'am." + +"Well, and isn't it so?" + +"Not altogether, ma'am," stammered Mr. Hanmer. "If ever your ladyship +had been in the Navy--" + +"God bless the man!" Lady Caroline interjected. + +"--you'd have found that--that a good deal of kissing goes by favour, +ma'am." + +"H'mph!" said Lady Caroline when Mrs. Harry had done laughing. +"The child will not lack protection, of course. Whether 'tis to their +credit or not I won't say, but the Vyells have always shown a conscience +for--er--obligations of this kind." + + +On her way back to Sabines, where Sir Oliver had installed them, +Lady Caroline again commended to her daughter his sound sense in packing +the child off to sea. + +"They will take 'em at any age, I understand; and Mrs. Vyell, it +appears, has no objection." + +"She is not returning to Carolina by sea." + +"No; but she can influence her husband. I must have another talk with +her . . . a pleasant, unaffected creature, and, for a sailor's wife, +more than presentable. One had hardly indeed looked to find such +natural good manners in this part of the world. Her mother was a +Quakeress, she tells me: yet she laughs a good deal, which I had +imagined to be against their principles. She doesn't say 'thee' and +'thou' either." + +"I heard her _tutoyer_ her husband." + +"Indeed? . . . Well," Lady Caroline went on somewhat inconsequently, +"Harry is a lucky man. When one thinks of the dreadful connections +these sailors are only too apt to form--though one cannot wholly blame +them, their opportunities being what they are . . . But, as I was +saying, Oliver couldn't have done better, for himself or for the child. +At home the poor little creature could never be but a question; and +since he has this craze for salt water--curious he should resemble his +uncle in this rather than his father--one may almost call it +providential. . . . At the same time, my dear, I wish you could have +shown a little more interest." + +"In the child? Why?" + +"Really, Diana, I wish you would cure yourself of putting these abrupt +questions. . . . Your Cousin Oliver is now the head of the family, +remember. He has received us with uncommon cordiality, and put himself +out not a little--" + +"I can believe _that_," said Diana brusquely. + +"And it says much. All men are selfish, and Oliver as a youth was very +far from being an exception. I find the change in him significant of +much. . . . At the same time you have mixed enough in the world, dear, +to know that young men will be young men, and this sort of thing +happens, unfortunately." + +"If, mamma, you suppose I bear Cousin Oliver any grudge because of this +child--" + +"I am heartily glad to hear you say it. There should be, with us women, +a Christian nicety in dealing with these--er--situations; in retrospect, +at all events. A certain--disgust, shall we say?--is natural, proper, +even due to our sex: I should think the worse--very far the worse--of my +Diana did she not feel it. But above all things, charity! . . . And let +me tell you, dear, what I could not have told at the time, but I think +you are now old enough to know that such an experience is often the best +cure for a man, who thereafter, should he be fortunate in finding the +right woman, anchors his affections and proves the most assiduous of +husbands. This may sound paradoxical to you--" + +"Dear mamma"--Diana hid a smile and a little yawn together--"believe me +it does not." + +"Such a man, then," pursued Lady Caroline, faintly surprised, "is likely +to be the more appreciative of any kindness shown to--er--what I may +call the living consequence of his error." + +"Why not say 'Dicky' at once, mamma, and have done with it." + +"To Dicky, then, if you will; but I was attempting to lay down the +general rule which Dicky illustrates. A little gentle notice taken of +the child not only appeals to the man as womanly in itself, but +delicately conveys to him that the past is, to some extent, condoned. +He has sown his wild oats: he is, so to speak, _range_; but he is none +the less grateful for some assurance--" + +Lady Caroline's discourse had whiled the way back to Sabines, to the +drawing-room; and here Diana wheeled round on her with the question, +sudden and straight,-- + +"Do you suppose that Cousin Oliver is _range_, as you call it?" + +"My child, we have every reason to believe so." + +"Then what do you make of this?" The girl took up a small volume that +lay on the top of the harpsichord, and thrust it into her mother's +hands. + +"Eh? What?" Lady Caroline turned the book back uppermost and spelled +out the title through her eyeglass. "'Ovid'--he's Latin, is he not? +Dear, I had no notion that you kept up your studies in that--er-- +tongue." + +"I do not. I have forgot what little I learned of it, and that was next +to nothing. But open the book, please, at the title-page." + +"I see nothing. It has neither book-plate nor owner's signature." +(Indeed Ruth never wrote her name in her books. She looked upon them as +her lord's, and hers only in trust.) + +"The title-page, I said. You are staring at the flyleaf." + +"Ah, to be sure--" Lady Caroline turned a leaf. "Is this what you +mean?" She held up a loose sheet of paper covered with writing. + +"Read it." + +The elder lady found the range of her eyeglass and conned--in silence +and without well grasping its purport--the following effusion:-- + + Other maids make Love a foeman, + Lie in ambush to defeat him; + I alone will step to meet him + Valiant, his accepted woman. + Equal, consort in his car, + Ride I to his royal war. + + Victims of his bow and targe, + Yet who toyed with lovers' quarrels, + Envy me my braver laurels! + Lord! thy shield of shadow large + Lift above me, shout the charge! + +"Well?" + +"I make nothing of it," owned Lady Caroline. "It appears to be poetry +of a sort--probably some translation from the Latin author." + +"You note, at least, that the handwriting is a woman's?" + +"H'm, yes," Lady Caroline agreed. + +"Nothing else?" + +"Dear, you speak in riddles." + +"It _is_ a riddle," said Diana. "Take the first letter of each line, +and read them down, in order." + +"O, L, I, V, E, R V, Y, E, L, L," spelled Lady Caroline, and lowered +her eyeglass. "My dear, as you say, this cannot be a mere coincidence." + +"_Did_ I say that?" asked Diana. + +"But who can it be, or have been? . . . That Dance woman, perhaps? +She was infatuated enough." + +"It was not she," said Diana positively. + +"_Somebody_ can tell us. . . . That Mr. Silk, for instance." + +"Ah, you too think of him?" + +"As a clergyman--and to some extent a boon companion of Oliver's--he +would be likely to know--" + +"--And to tell? You are quite right, mamma: I have asked him." + + + +Chapter XI. + + +THE ESPIAL. + + +Ruth Josselin came down from the mountain to the stream-side, where, by +a hickory bush under a knoll, her mare Madcap stood at tether. +Slipping behind the bush--though no living soul was near to spy on her-- +she slid off her short skirt and indued a longer one more suitable for +riding; rolled the discarded garment into a bundle which she strapped +behind the saddle; untethered the mare, and mounted. + +At her feet the plain stretched for miles, carpeted for the most part +with short sweet turf and dotted in the distance with cattle, red in the +sunlight that overlooked the mountain's shoulder. These were Farmer +Cordery's cattle, and they browsed within easy radius of a clump of elms +clustered about Sweetwater Farm. Some four miles beyond, on the far +edge of the plain, a very similar clump of elms hid another farm, +Natchett by name, in like manner outposted with cattle; and these were +the only habitations of men within the ring of the horizon. + +The afternoon sun cast the shadow of the mountain far across this plain, +almost to the confines of Sweetwater homestead. A breeze descended from +the heights and played with Ruth's curls as she rested in saddle for a +moment, scanning the prospect; a gentle breeze, easily out-galloped. +Time, place, and the horse--all promised a perfect gallop; her own +spirits, too. For she had spent the day's hot hours in clambering among +the slopes, battling with certain craggy doubts in her own mind; and +with the afternoon shadow had come peace at heart; and out of peace a +certain careless exultation. She would test the mare's speed and enjoy +this hour before returning to Tatty's chit-chat, the evening lamp, and +the office of family prayer with which Farmer Cordery duly dismissed his +household for the night. + +She pricked Madcap down the slope, and at the foot of it launched her on +the gallop. Surely, unless it be that of sailing on a reach and in a +boat that fairly heels to the breeze, there is no such motion to catch +the soul on high. The breeze met the wind of her flight and was beaten +by it, but still she carried the moment of encounter with her as a wave +on the crest of which she rode. It swept, lifted, rapt her out of +herself--yet in no bodiless ecstasy; for her blood pulsed in the beat of +the mare's hoofs. To surrender to it was luxury, yet her hand on the +rein held her own will ready at call; and twice, where Sweetwater brook +meandered, she braced herself for the water-jump, judging the pace and +the stride; and twice, with many feet to spare, Madcap sailed over the +silver-grey riband. + +All the while, ahead of her, the mountain lengthened its shadow. +She overtook and passed it a couple of furlongs short of the homestead; +passed it--so clearly defined it lay across the pasture--with a firmer +hold on the rein, as though clearing an actual obstacle. . . . She was +in sunlight now. Before her a wooden fence protected the elms and their +enclosure. At the gate of it by rule she should have drawn rein. + +She had never leapt a gate; had attempted a bank now and then, but +nothing serious. Her success at the water-jumps tempted her; and the +mare, galloping with her second wind, seemed to feel the temptation +every whit as strongly. + +In the instant of rising to it Ruth wondered what Farmer Cordery would +say if she broke his top bar. . . . The mare's feet touched it lightly-- +rap, rap. She was over. + +A wood pile stood within the gate to the left, hiding the house. She +had passed the corner of it before she could bring Madcap to a +standstill, and was laughing to herself in triumph as she glanced +around. + +Heavens! + +The house was of timber, with a deep timbered verandah; and in the +verandah, not twenty paces away, beside a table laid for coffee, stood +Tatty with three ladies about her--three ladies all elegantly dressed +and staring. + +Ruth's hand went up quickly, involuntarily, to her dishevelled hair; and +at the same moment the little lady, as though making a bolt from +captivity, stepped down from the verandah and came shuffling across the +yard towards her, almost at a run. + +"Ruth, dear!" she panted. "Oh, dear, dear! I am so glad you have come!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" The girl, scenting danger, faced it. +She swung herself down from the saddle-crutch, picked up her skirt, and +taking Madcap's rein close beside the curb, walked slowly up to the +verandah. "Have they been bullying you, dear?" she asked in a low quiet +voice. + +"They have come all this way to see us--Lady Caroline Vyell, and Miss +Diana; yes, and Mrs. Captain Vyell--'Mrs. Harry,' as Dicky calls her. +They have ferreted us out, somehow--and the questions they have been +asking! I think, dear--I really think--that in your place I should walk +Madcap round to her stable and run indoors for a tidy-up before facing +them. A minute or two to prepare yourself--I can easily make your +excuses." + +"And a moment since you were calling me to come and deliver you!" +answered Ruth, still advancing. "Present me, please." + +Little Miss Quiney, turning and running ahead, stammered some words to +Lady Caroline, who paid no heed to them or to her but kept her eyeglass +lifted and fixed upon Ruth. Miss Diana stood a pace behind her mother's +shoulder; Mrs. Harry, after a glance at the girl, turned and made +pretence to busy herself with the coffee-table. + +"So _you_ are the young woman!" ejaculated Lady Caroline. + +"Am I?" said Ruth quietly, and after a profound curtsy turned sideways +to the mare. "A lump of sugar, Tatty, if you please. . . . I thank +you, ma'am--" as Mrs. Harry, anticipating Miss Quiney, stepped forward +with a piece held between the sugar-tongs. "And I think she even +deserves a second, for clearing the yard gate." + +She fed the gentle creature and dismissed her. "Now trot around to your +stall and ask one of the boys to unsaddle you!" She stood for ten +seconds, may be, watching as the mare with a fling of the head trotted +off obediently. Then she turned again and met Mrs. Harry's eyes with a +frank smile. + +"It is the truth," she said. "We cleared the gate. Come, please, and +admire--" + +Mrs. Harry, in spite of herself, stepped down from the verandah and +followed. The others stood as they were, planted in stiff disapproval. + +The girl led Mrs. Harry to the corner of the wood pile. "Admire!" she +repeated, pointing with her riding-switch; and then, still keeping the +gesture, she sank her voice and asked quickly, "Why are you here? +You have a good face, not like the others. Tell me." + +"Lady Caroline--" stammered Mrs. Harry, taken at unawares. "She has a +right, naturally, to concern herself--" + +"Does _he_ know?" + +"Sir Oliver? No--I believe not. . . . You see, the Vyells are a great +family, and 'family' to them is a tremendous affair--a religion almost. +Whatever touches one touches all; especially when that one happens to be +the head of his house." + +"Is that how Captain Vyell--how your husband--feels it?--No, please keep +looking towards the gate. I mean no harm by these questions, and you +will not mind answering them, I hope? It gives me just a little more +chance of fair play." + +"To tell you the truth," said Mrs. Harry, pretending to study the jump, +"I looked at you because I could not help it. You are an +extraordinarily beautiful woman." + +"Thank you," answered Ruth. "But about 'Captain Harry,' as we call him? +I suppose he, as next of kin, is most concerned of all?" + +"He did not tell me about you, if that is what you mean; or rather he +told me nothing until I questioned him. Then he owned that there was +such a person, and that he had seen you. But he does not even know of +this visit; he imagines that Lady Caroline is taking me for a pleasure +trip, just to view the country." + +Ruth turned towards the house. "You will tell him, of course," she said +gravely, "when you return to the ship." + +"I--I suppose I shall," confessed Mrs. Harry, and added, "There's one +thing. You may suppose that, as his wife, I am as much concerned as +any--perhaps more than these others. But I don't want you to think that +I suggested hunting you up." + +"I do not think anything of the sort. In fact I am sure you did not." + +"Thank you." + +Ruth had a mind to ask "Who, then, had brought them?" but refrained. +She had guessed, and pretty surely. + +"Well," she said with half a laugh, "you have been good and given me +time to recover. It's heavy odds, you see, and--and I have not been +trained for it, exactly. But I feel better. Shall we go back and face +them?" + +"One moment, again!" Mrs. Harry's kindly face hung out signals of +distress. "It's heavy odds, as you say. Everything's against you. +But the Lord knows I'm a well-meaning woman, and I'd hate to be unjust. +If only I could be sure--if only you would tell me--" + +Ruth stood still and faced her. + +"Look in my eyes." + +Mrs. Harry looked and was convinced. "But you love him," she murmured; +"and he--" + +"Ah, ma'am," said Ruth, "I answer you one question, and you would ask me +another!" + + + +Chapter XII. + + +LADY CAROLINE. + + +She walked back to the verandah. + +"I understand," she said, "that Lady Caroline wishes a word with me." + +With a slight bow she led the way through a low window that opened upon +the Corderys' best parlour, through that apartment, and across a passage +to the door of a smaller room lined with shelves--formerly a stillroom +or store-chamber for home-made wines, cordials, preserves, but now +converted into a boudoir for her use. Its one window looked out upon +the farmyard, now in shadow, and a farther doorway led to the dairy. +It stood open, and beyond it the eye travelled down a vista of cool +slate flags and polished cream-pans. + +On the threshold Ruth stood aside to let Lady Caroline enter; followed, +and closed the door; stepped across and closed the door of the dairy. +Lady Caroline meanwhile found a seat, and, lifting her eyeglass, studied +at long range the library disposed upon the store shelves. + +"We had best be quite frank," said she, as Ruth came back and stood +before her. + +"If you please." + +"Of course it is all very scandalous and--er--nauseating, though I dare +say you are unable to see it in that light. I merely mention it in +justice to myself, lest you should mistake me as underrating or even +condoning Sir Oliver's conduct. You will guess, at any rate, how it +must shock my daughter." + +"Yes," said Ruth; and added, "Why did you bring her?" + +The girl's attitude--erect before her, patient, but unflinching--had +already gone some way to discompose Lady Caroline. This straight +question fairly disconcerted her; the worse because she could not +quarrel with the tone of it. + +"I wish," she answered, "my Diana to face the facts of life, ugly though +they may be." As if aware that this hardly carried conviction--for, +despite herself, something in Ruth began to impress her--she shifted +ground and went on, "But we will not discuss my daughter, please. +The point is, this state of things cannot continue. It may be hard for +you--I am trying to take your view of it--but what may pass in a young +man of blood cannot be permitted when he succeeds to a title and the-- +er--headship of his family. It becomes then his duty to give that +family clean heirs. I put it plainly?" + +Ruth bent her head for assent. + +"Oliver Vyell, as no doubt you know, has already been mixed up in one +entanglement, and has a child for reminder." + +"Oh, but Dicky is the dearest child! The sweetest-natured, the +cleanest-minded! Have you not seen him yet?" + +Lady Caroline stared. As little as royalty did she understand being +cross-questioned. It gave her a quite unexpected sense of helplessness. + +"I fear you do not at all grasp the position," she said severely. +"After all, I had done better to disregard your feelings, whatever they +may be, and come to terms at once." + +"No," answered Ruth, musing; "I do not understand the position; but I +want to, more than I can say--and your ladyship must help me, please." +She paused a moment. "In New England we prize good birth, good +breeding, and what we too call 'family'; but I think the word must mean +something different to you who live at home in England." + +"I should hope so!" breathed Lady Caroline. + +"It must be mixed up somehow with the great estates you have held for +generations and the old houses you have lived in. No," she went on, as +Lady Caroline would have interrupted; "please let me work it out in my +own way, and then you shall correct me where I am wrong. . . . I have +often thought how beautiful it must be to live in such an old house, one +that has all its corners full of memories--the nurseries most of all-- +of children and grandchildren, that have grown up in gentleness and +courtesy and honour--" + +"Good Lord!" Lady Caroline interjected. "You mean"--Ruth smiled-- +"that I am talking like a book? That is partly my fault and partly our +New England way; because, you see, we have to get at these things from +books. Does it, after all, matter how--if only we get it right? . . . +There's a tradition--what, I believe, you call an 'atmosphere'--and you +are proud of it and very jealous." + +"If you see all this," said Lady Caroline, mollified, "our business +should be easier, with a little common sense on your part." + +"And it knits you," pursued Ruth, "into a sort of family conspiracy-- +the womenkind especially--like bees in a hive. The head of the family +is the queen bee, and you respect him amazingly; but all the same you +keep your own judgment, and know when to thwart and when to disobey him, +for his own and the family's good. I think you disobeyed Sir Oliver in +coming here; or, at least, deceived him and came here without his +knowledge." + +"I am not accustomed," said Lady Caroline, rising, "to direct my conduct +upon my nephew's advice." + +"That, more or less, is what I was trying to say. Dear madam, let me +warn you to do so, if you would manage his private affairs." + +They faced each other now, upon declared war. Lady Caroline's neck was +suffused to a purplish red behind the ears. She gasped for speech. +Before she found it there came a tapping on the door, and Diana Vyell +entered. + + + +Chapter XIII. + + +DIANA VYELL. + + +"Have you not finished yet?" Miss Diana closed the door, glanced from +one to the other, and laughed with a genial brutality. "Well, it's time +I came. Dear mamma, you seem to be getting your feathers pulled." + +There was a byword among the Whig families at home (who, by +intermarrying, had learned to gauge another's weaknesses), that +"the Pett medal showed ill in reverse." Miss Diana had heard the +saying. As a Vyell--the Vyells were, before all things, critical--she +knew it to be just, as well as malicious; but as a dutiful daughter she +ought to have remembered. + +As it was, her cool comment stung her mother to fury. The poor lady +pointed a finger at Ruth, and spluttered (there is no more elegant word +for the very inelegant exhibition),-- + +"A strumpet! One that has been whipped through the public streets." + +There was a dreadful pause. Miss Diana, the first to recover herself, +stepped back to the door and held it open. + +"You must excuse dear mamma," she said coolly. "She has overtired +herself." + +But Lady Caroline continued to point a finger trembling with passion. + +"Her price!" she shrilled. "Ask her that. It is all these creatures +ever understand!" + +Miss Diana slipped an arm beneath her elbow and firmly conducted her +forth. Ruth, hearing the door shut, supposed that both women had +withdrawn. She sank into a chair, and was stretching out her arms over +the table to bury her face in them and sob, when the voice of the +younger said quietly behind her shoulder,-- + +"It is always hard, after mamma's tantrums, to bring the talk back to a +decent level. Nevertheless, shall we try?" + +Ruth had drawn herself up again, rallying the spirit in her. It was +weary, bruised; but its hour of default was not yet. Her voice dragged, +but just perceptibly, as she answered Miss Vyell, who nodded, noting her +courage and wondering a little,-- + +"I am sorry." + +"Sorry?" + +"Yes; it was partly my fault--very largely my fault. But your mother +angered me from the first by assuming--what she had no right to assume. +It was horrible." + +Diana Vyell seated herself, eyed her steadily for a moment, and nodded +again. "Mamma can be _raide_, there's no denying. She was wrong, of +course; that's understood. . . . Still, on the whole you have done +pretty well, and had your revenge." + +Ruth's eyes widened, for this was beyond her. + +Diana explained. "You have let us make the most impossible fools of +ourselves. It may have been more by luck than by good management, as +they say; but there it is. Now don't say that revenge isn't sweet. +. . . I've done you what justice I can; but if you pose as an angel from +heaven, it's asking too much." While Ruth considered this, she added, +"I don't know if you can put yourself in mamma's place for a moment; but +if you can, the hoax is complete enough, you'll admit." + +"I had rather put myself in yours." + +Their eyes met, and Diana's cheek reddened slightly. "You are an +extraordinary girl," she said, "and there seems no way but to be honest +with you. Unfortunately, it's not so easy, even with the best will in +the world. Can you understand _that?_" + +"If you love him--" + +"Oh, for pity's sake spare me!" Diana bounced up and stepped to the +window. The red on her cheek had deepened, and she averted it to stare +out at the poultry in the yard. "You are unconscionable," she said +after a while, with a vexed laugh. "I have known my cousin Oliver since +we were children together. Really, you know, you're almost as brutal as +mamma. . . . The truth? Let me see. Well, the truth, so near as I can +tell it, is that I just let mamma have her head, and waited to see what +would happen. This was her expedition, and I took no responsibility for +it from the first." + +"I understand." Ruth, watching the back of her head, spoke musingly, +with pursed lips. + +"Excuse me"--Diana wheeled about suddenly--"you cannot possibly +understand just yet. This last was my tenth season in London. +One grows weary . . . and then in the confusion of papa's death-- +It comes to this, that I was ready for anything to get out of the old +rut. I--I--shall we say that I just cast myself on fate? It may have +been at the back of my head that whatever happened might be worse, but +couldn't well be wearier. But if you think I had any design of setting +my cap at him--" + +"Hush!" said Ruth softly. "I had no such thought." + +"And if you had, you would not have cared," said Diana, eyeing her again +long and steadily. "Mamma--you really must forgive mamma. If you knew +them, there was never a Pett that was not _impayable_. Mamma spoke of +asking your price. . . . As if, for any price, he would give you up!" + +"I have no price to ask, of him or of any one." + +"No, and you need have none. I am often very disagreeable," said Diana +candidly, "but my worst enemy won't charge me with disparaging good +looks in other women." + +"May I use your words," said Ruth, with a shy smile, "and say that you +have no need?" + +"Rubbish! And don't talk like that to me, sitting here and staring you +in the face, or I may change my mind again and hate you! I never said I +didn't _envy_. . . . But there, the fault was mine for speaking of +'good looks' when I should have said, 'Oh, you wonder!'" broke off +Diana. "May I ask it--one question?" + +"Twenty, if you will." + +"It is a brutal one; horrible; worse even than mamma's." + +"As I remember," said Ruth gravely, "Lady Caroline asked none. It was I +who did the questioning, and--and I am afraid that led to the trouble." + +Diana laughed, and after a moment the two were laughing together. + +"But what is your question?" + +"No, I cannot ask it now." Diana shook her head, and was grave again. + +"Please!" + +"Well, then, tell me--" She drew back, slightly tilting her chin and +narrowing her eyes, as one who contemplates a beautiful statue or other +work of art. "Is it true they whipped _that_, naked, through the +streets?" + +Ruth bent her head. + +"It is true." + +"I wonder it did not kill you," Diana murmured. + +"I am strong; strong and very healthy. . . . It broke something inside; +I hardly know what. But there's a story--I read it the other day--about +a man who wandered in a dark wood, and came to a place where he looked +into hell. Just one glimpse. He fainted, and when he awoke it was +daylight, with the birds singing all around him. But he was changed +more than the place, for he listened and understood all the woodland +talk--what the birds were saying, and the small creeping things. +And when he went back among men he answered at random, and yet in a way +that astonished them; for he saw and heard what their hearts were +saying, at the back of their talk. . . . Of course," smiled Ruth, +"I am not nearly so wonderful as that. But something has happened to +me--" + +Diana nodded slowly. "--Something that, at any rate, makes you terribly +disconcerting. But what about Oliver? They tell me that he browbeat +the magistrates and insisted on sitting beside you." + +Ruth's eyes confirmed it. They were moist, yet proud. They shone. + +"I had always," mused Diana, "looked on my cousin as a carefully selfish +person, even in the matter of that Dance woman. You must have turned +his head completely." + +"It was not _that_." + +Diana stared, the low tone was so earnest, vehement even. "Well, at all +events I know him well enough to assure you he will never give you up." + +"Ah!" Ruth drew a long sigh over the joy in her heart, and, a second +later, hated herself for it. + +"--until afterwards." + +"Afterwards?" the girl echoed. + +"Afterwards. My cousin Oliver is a tenacious man, and you would seem to +have worked him up to temporary heroics. But I beg you to reflect that +what for you must have been a real glimpse into hell"--Diana shivered--" +was likely enough for him no more than an occasion for posing. +Fine posing, I'll allow." She paused. "It didn't degrade him, actually. +He's a Vyell; and as another of 'em I may tell you there never was a +Vyell could face out actual degradation. You almost make me wish we +were capable of it. To lose everything--" She paused again. +"You make it more alluring, somehow, than the prospect of endless London +seasons--Diana Vyell, with a fading face and her market missed--that's +how they'll put it--and, _pour me distraire_ this side of the grave, the +dower-house, a coach, a pair of wind-broken horses, and the consolations +of religion! If we were capable of it. . . . But where's the use of +talking? We're Vyells. And--here's my point--Oliver is a Vyell. +He may be strong-willed, but--did mamma happen to talk at all about the +'Family'?" + +"I think," answered Ruth with another faint flash of mirth, "it was I +who asked her questions about it." + +Diana threw out her hands, laughing. "You are invincible! Well, I +cannot hate you; and I've given you my warning. Make him marry you; you +can if you choose, and now is your time. If there should be children-- +legitimate children, O my poor mamma!--there will be the devil to pay +and helpless family councils, all of which I shall charge myself to +enjoy and to report to you. If there should be none, we're safe with +Mrs. Harry. She'll breed a dozen. . . . Am I coarse? Oh, yes, the +Vyells can be coarse! while as for the Petts--but you have heard dear +mamma." + + +They talked together for a few minutes after this. But their talk shall +not be reported: for with what do you suppose it dealt? + +--With Dress. As I am a living man, with Dress. + +In the midst of it, and while Ruth listened eagerly to what Diana had to +tell of London fashions, Lady Caroline's voice was heard summoning her +daughter away. + +Diana rose. "It is close upon dusk," she said, "and Mrs. Harry has +command of the waggon. She drives very well--not better than I perhaps; +but she understands this country better. All the same, the road--call +it an apology for one--bristles with tree-stumps, and mamma's temper +will be unendurable if the dark overtakes us before we reach the next +farm. I forget its name." + +"Natchett?" + +"Yes, Natchett. We spend the night there." + +"But why did not Mr. Silk drive you over?" + +"Did mamma tell you he was escorting us?" + +"No. I guessed." + +"Nasty little fellow. Sloppy underlip. I cannot bear him. Can you?" + +"I do not like him." + +"It's a marvel to me that my cousin tolerates him. . . . By the way, I +shall not wonder if he--Oliver, I mean--loses his temper heavily when he +learns of our expedition, and bundles us straight back to Europe. +I warned mamma." + +"So--I am afraid--did I." + +"Yes?"--and again they laughed together. + +"My poor parent! . . . She assured me that her duty to the Family was +her armour of proof. Hark! She's calling again." + + +They found Lady Caroline impatient in the verandah. Ruth, to avoid +speech with her, walked away to the waggon. Farmer Cordery stood at the +horse's head, and Mrs. Harry beside the step, ready to mount and take +the reins. + +But for some reason Mrs. Harry delayed to mount. "Is it you?" she said +vaguely and put out a hand, swaying slightly. Ruth caught it. + +"Are you ill?" + +They were alone together for a moment and hidden from the farmer, who +stood on the far side of the horse. + +"Nothing--a sudden giddiness. It's quite absurd, too; when I've been as +strong as a donkey all my life." + +Ruth asked her a question. . . . Some word of woman's lore, dropped +years ago by her own silly mother, crossed her memory. (They had been +outspoken, in the cottage above the beach.) It surprised Mrs. Harry, +who answered it before she was well aware, and so stood staring, +trembling with surmise. + +"God bless you!" Ruth put out an arm on an impulse to clasp her waist, +but checked it and beckoned instead to Diana. + +"_You_ take the reins and drive," she commanded. + +Diana questioned her with a glance, but obeyed and climbed on board. +Ruth was helping Mrs. Harry to mount after her when Lady Caroline thrust +herself forward, by the step. + +Now since Diana had hold of the reins, and Mrs. Harry was for the moment +in no condition to lend a hand, and since Lady Caroline would as lief +have touched leprosy as have accepted help from Ruth Josselin, her +ascent into the van fell something short of dignity. The rearward of +her person was ample; she hitched her skirt in the step, thus exposing +an inordinate amount of not over-clean white stocking; and, to make +matters worse, Farmer Cordery cast off at the wrong moment and stood +back from the horse's head. + +"Losh! but I'm sorry," said he, gazing after the catastrophic result. +"Look at her, there, kickin' like a cast ewe. . . ." He turned a +serious face on Ruth and added, "Vigorous, too, for her years." + + +Ruth, returning to the verandah, bent over little Miss Quiney, who sat +unsmiling, with rigid eyes. "Dear Tatty,"--she kissed her--"were they +so very dreadful?" + +Miss Quiney started as if awaking from a nightmare. + +"That woman--darling, whatever her rank, I _cannot_ term her a lady!--" + +"Go on, dear." + +"I cannot. Sit beside me, here, for a while, and let me feel my arm +about you. . . ." + +They sat thus for a long while silent, while twilight crept over the +plain and wrapped itself about the homestead. + +Ruth was thinking. "If I forfeit this, it will be hardest of all." + + + +Chapter XIV. + + +MR. SILK PROPOSES. + + +Farmer Cordery had six grown sons--Jonathan, George, William, Increase, +Homer, and Lemuel--the eldest eight-and-twenty, the youngest sixteen. +All were strapping fellows, and each as a matter of course had fallen +over head and ears in love with Ruth. + +They were good lads and knew it to be hopeless. She had stepped into +their home as a goddess from a distant star, to abide with them for a +while. They worshipped, none confessing his folly; but it made them her +slaves, and emulous to shine before her as though she had been a queen +of tournay. Because of her presence (it must be sadly owned) +challengings, bickerings, even brotherly quarrels, disturbed more and +more the patriarchal peace of Sweetwater Farm. "I dunno what's come +over the boys," their father grumbled; "al'ays showing off an' +jim-jeerin'. Regilar cocks on a dunghill. A few years agone I'd 've +cured it wi' the strap; but now there's no remedy." + +William had challenged his eldest brother Jonathan to "put" a large +round-shot that lay in the verandah. Their father had brought it home +from the capture of Louisbourg as a souvenir. Jonathan and George had +served at Louisbourg too, in the Massachusetts Volunteers; but William, +though of age to fight, had been left at home to look after the farm and +his mother. It had been a sore disappointment at the time; now that +Jonathan and George had taken on a sudden to boast, it rankled. +Hence the challenge. The three younger lads joined in. If they could +not defeat their seniors, they could at least dispute the mastery among +themselves. Thereupon in all seriousness (ingenuous youths!) they voted +that Miss Josselin should be asked to umpire. + + +The contest took place next morning after breakfast, in a paddock beyond +the elms, with Ruth for umpire and sole spectator. Nothing had been +said to the farmer, who was fast losing his temper with "these derned +wagerings," and might have come down with a veto that none dared +disobey. He had ridden off, however, at sun-up to the mountain, to look +after the half-wild hogs he kept at pasture among the woods at its base. + +Ruth measured out the casts conscientiously. In no event would the +young men have disputed her arbitrament; but, as it happened, this +nicety was thrown away. Jonathan's "put" of forty feet--the shot +weighed close upon sixteen pounds--easily excelled the others', who were +sportsmen and could take a whipping without bad blood or dispute. +The winner crowed a little, to be sure; it was the New England way. +But Lemuel the youngest, who had outgrown his strength, had made a +deplorable "put," and the rest jeered at him, to relieve their feelings. +The boy fired up. "Oh, have your laugh!" he blazed, with angry tears in +his eyes. "But when it comes to running, there's not one of you but +knows I can put circles round him." + +"Take you on, this moment," answered up young Increase. "Say, boys, +we'll all take him on." + +Jonathan had no mind for any such "foolishness." He had won, and was +content; and running didn't become the dignity of a grown man. +"We didn't run at Louisbourg, I guess." George echoed him. George could +out-tire even Jonathan at wood-cutting, but had no length of leg. + +But Ruth having compassion on the boy's hurt feelings, persuaded them. +They could refuse no straight request of hers. She pointed to an +outlying elm that marked the boundary of the second pasture field beyond +the steading. This should be the turning-post, and would give them a +course well over half a mile, with a water-jump to be crossed twice. +She ranged them in line, and dropped her handkerchief for signal. + +They were off. She stood with the sun at her back and watched the race. +George, of the short legs, broad shoulders, and bullet head, was a +sprinter (as we call it nowadays) and shot at once to the front, with +Homer not far behind, and Increase disputing the third place with +Lemuel. Jonathan and William made scarcely a show of competing. +The eldest lad, indeed, coming to the brook, did not attempt to jump, +but floundered heavily through it, scrambled up the farther bank, and +lumbered on in hopeless pursuit. It was here that Lemuel's long easy +stride asserted itself, and taking first place he reached the tree with +several yards' lead. + +"He will win at his ease now," said Ruth to herself; and just at that +moment her ears caught the sound of a horse's footfall. She turned; but +the sun shone full in her eyes, and not for a second or two did she +recognise her visitor, Mr. Silk. + +He was on horseback, and, stooping from his saddle, was endeavouring +just now--but very unhandily--to unhasp the gate with the crook of his +riding-whip. Ruth did not offer to go to his help. + +He managed it at last, thrust the horse through by vigorous use of his +knees, and was riding straight up to the house. But just then he caught +sight of her, changed his course, and came towards her at a walk. + +"Ah, good-morning!" he called. + +"Good-morning." + +He dismounted. "Thought I'd ride over and pay you a call. The ladies +will not be starting on their return journey for another couple of +hours. So I borrowed a horse." + +"Evidently." + +"There's something wrong with him, I doubt." Mr. Silk was disagreeably +red and moist. + +"I dare say he is not used to being ridden mainly--or was it wholly?--on +the curb." + +He grinned. "Well, and I'm not used to riding, and that's a fact. +But"--he leered the compliment--"there are few dangers I would not +brave for a glance from Miss Josselin." + +"You flatter me, sir. But I believe you braved a worse, yesterday, +without claiming that reward." + +"Ah! You mean that Sir Oliver will be angry when he gets wind of our +little expedition? The ladies persuaded me--Adam's old excuse; I can +deny nothing to the sex. . . . But what have we yonder? A race?" + +"It would appear so." + +"A very hollow one, if I may criticise. That youngster moves like a +deer. . . . And what is his reward to be?--another glance of these +bright eyes? Ah, Miss Josselin, you make fools--and heroes--of us all!" + +Ruth turned from him to applaud young Lemuel, who came darting into the +enclosure. + +"See old Jonathan!" panted the boy, looking back and laughing. +"That's how they ran at Louisbourg. . . . Miss Josselin, you should have +made it a mile and I'd have shown you some broken-winded ones." +He laughed again and turned in apology to Mr. Silk. "I'll take your +horse to stable, sir, if you'll let me catch my breath." + +The others came straggling up, a little abashed at sight of the +stranger, but not surprised out of their good manners. + +"A clergyman?" said Jonathan. "My father will be home before sundown, +sir. He will be proud if you can stay and have dinner with us." + +Mr. Silk explained that he had ridden over from Natchett to call on Miss +Josselin and had but an hour to spare. They insisted, however, that he +must eat before leaving, and they led away his horse to bait, leaving +him and Ruth together. + +"Will you come into the house?" she asked. + +"With your leave we can talk better here. . . . So you guessed that I +made one of the party? Miss Vyell told me." + +"It was not difficult to guess." + +"And you admired my courage?" + +Ruth's eyebrows went up to a fine arch. "When you were careful to keep +in hiding?" + +"From motives of delicacy, believe me. It occurred to me that Lady +Caroline might--er--speak her mind, and I had no wish to be distressed +by it, or to distress you with my presence." + +"I thank you for so much delicacy, sir." + +"But Lady Caroline--let us do her justice! She calls a spade a spade, +but there's no malice in it. You stood up to her, I gather. We've been +discussing you this morning, and you may take my word she don't think +the worse of you for it. They're sportsmen, these high-born people. +I come of good family myself, and know the sort. 'Slog and take a +slogging; shake hands and no bad blood'--that's their way. The fine old +British way, after all." Mr. Silk puffed his cheeks and blew. + +"You have been discussing me with Lady Caroline?" + +"Yes," he answered flatly. "Yes," he repeated, and rolled his eyes. +"All for your good, you know. Of course she started by calling you +names and taking the worst for granted. But I wouldn't have _that_." + +"Go on, sir, if you please." + +"I wouldn't have it, because I didn't believe it. If I did--hang it!-- +I shouldn't be here. You might do me that justice." + +"Why _are_ you here?" + +"I'm coming to that; but first I want you to open your eyes to the +position. You may think it's all very pretty and romantic and like Fair +Rosamond--without the frailty as yet: that's granted. But how will it +end? Eh? That's the question, if you'd bring your common sense to +bear on it." + +"Suppose you help me, sir," said Ruth meekly. + +"That's right. I'm here to help, and in more ways than one. . . . +Well, I know Sir Oliver; Lady Caroline knows him too; and if it's +marriage you're after, you might as well whistle the moon. You don't +believe me?" he wound up, for she was eyeing him with an inscrutable +smile. + +She lifted her shoulder a little. "For the sake of your argument we +will say that it is so." + +"Then what's to be the end? I repeat. Look here, missy. We spar a bit +when we meet, you and I; but I'd be sorry to see you go the way you're +going. 'Pon my honour I would. You're as pretty a piece of flesh as a +man could find on this side of the Atlantic, and what's a sharp tongue +but a touch of spice to it? Piquancy, begad, to a fellow like me! . . . +And--what's best of all, perhaps--you'd pass for a lady anywhere." + +She shrank back a pace before this incredible vulgarity; but not even +yet did she guess the man's drift. + +"So I put it to you, why not?" he continued, flushing as he came to the +point and contemplated his prey. "You don't see yourself as a parson's +wife, eh? You're not the cut. But for that matter _I'm_ not the +ordinary cut of parson. T'other side of the water we'd fly high. +They'll not have heard of Port Nassau, over there, nor of the little +nest at Sabines; and with Lady Caroline to give us a jump-off--I have +her promise. She runs a Chapel of her own, somewhere off St. James's. +Give me a chance to preach to the fashionable--let me get a foot inside +the pulpit door--and, with you to turn their heads in the Mall below, +strike me if I wouldn't finish up a Bishop! _La belle Sauvage_--they'd +put it around I'd found my beauty in the backwoods, and converted her. +. . . Well, what d'ye say? Isn't that a prettier prospect than to end +as Sir Oliver's cast-off?" + +She put a hand backwards, and found a gate-rail to steady her. + +"Ah! . . . How you dare!" she managed to murmur. + +"Dare? Eh! you're thinking of Sir Oliver?" He laughed easily. +"Lady Caroline will put _that_ all right. He'll be furious at first, no +doubt; my fine gentleman thinks himself the lion in the fable--when he +shares out the best for himself, no dog dares bark. But we'll give him +the go-by, and afterwards he can't squeal without showing himself the +public fool. . . . Squeal? I hope he will. I owe him one." + +At this moment young George and Increase Cordery came past the far +corner of the house with their team, their harness-chains jingling as +they rode afield. At sight of them a strong temptation assailed Ruth, +but she thrust it from her. + +"Sir"--she steadied her voice--"bethink you, please, that I have only to +lift a hand and those two, with their brothers, will drag you through +the farm pond." + +Before he could answer, she called to them. As they turned and walked +their horses towards her she glanced at Mr. Silk, half mischievously in +spite of her fierce anger. He was visibly perturbed; but his face, +mottled yellow with terror, suggested loathing rather than laughter. + +"I am sorry to trouble you, but will you please fetch Mr. Silk's horse? +He must return at once." + +When they were gone she turned to him. + +"I am sorry to dismiss you thus, sir, after the--the honour you have +done me; the more sorry because you will never understand." + +Indeed--his scare having passed--he was genuinely surprised, indignant. + +"I understand this much," he answered coarsely, "that I've offered to +make you an honest woman, but you prefer to be--" The word was on his +tongue-tip, but hung fire there. + +She had turned her back on him, and stood with her arms resting for +support on the upper rail of the gate. She heard him walk away towards +the stable-yard. . . . By-and-by she heard him ride off--heard the click +of the gate behind him. A while after this she listened, and then bowed +her face upon her arms. + + + +Chapter XV. + + +THE CHOOSING. + + +The minutes passed, and still she leaned there. At long intervals, when +a sob would not be repressed, her shoulders heaved and fell. But it was +characteristic of Ruth Josselin throughout her life that she hated to +indulge in distress, even when alone. As a child she had been stoical; +but since the day of her ordeal in Port Nassau she had not once wept in +self-pity. She had taught herself to regard all self-pity as shameful. + +She made no sound. The morning heat had increased, and across it the +small morning noises of the farm were borne drowsily--the repeated +strokes of a hatchet in the backyard, where young Lemuel split logs; the +voice of Mrs. Cordery, also in the backyard, calling the poultry for +their meal of Indian corn; the opening and shutting of windows as rooms +were redded and dusted; lastly, Miss Quiney's tentative touch on the +spinet. Sir Oliver in his lordly way had sent a spinet by cart from +Boston; and Tatty, long since outstripped by her pupil, had a trick of +picking out passages from the more difficult pieces of music and +"sampling" them as she innocently termed it--a few chords now and again, +but melodies for the most part, note by note hesitatingly attempted with +one finger. + +For a while these noises fell on Ruth's ear unheeded. Then something +like a miracle happened. + +Of a sudden either the noises ceased or she no longer heard them. +It was as if a hush had descended on the farmstead; a hush of +expectancy. Still leaning on the gate, she felt it operate within +her--an instantaneous calm at first, soothing away the spirit's anguish +as though it were ointment delicately laid on a bodily wound. Not an +ache, even, left for reminder! but healing peace at a stroke, and in the +hush of it small thrills awaking, stirring, soft ripples scarcely +perceptible, stealing, hesitating, until overtaken by reinforcements of +bliss and urged in a flood, bathing her soul. + +_He_ was near! He must be here, close at hand! + +She lifted her head and gazed around. For minutes her closed eyeballs +had been pressed down upon her arms, and the sunlight played tricks with +her vision. Strange hues of scarlet and violet danced on the sky and +around the fringes of the elms. + +But he was there! Yes, beyond all doubting it was he. . . . + +He had ridden in through the gateway on his favourite Bayard, and with a +led horse at his side. He was calling, in that easy masterful voice of +his, for one of the Cordery lads to take the pair to stable. +Lemuel came running. + +In the act of dismounting he caught sight of her and paused to lift his +hat. But before dismissing the horses to stable he looked them over, as +a good master should. + +He was coming towards her. . . . Three paces away he halted, and his +smile changed to a frown. + +"You are in trouble?" + +"It has passed. I am happy now; and you are welcome, my lord." + +She gave him her hand. He detained it. + +"Who has annoyed you? Those women?" + +She shook her head. "You might make a better guess, for you must have +met him on the way. Mr. Silk was here a while ago." + +"Silk?" + +"And he--he asked me to marry him." + +"The hound! But I don't understand. Silk here? I see the game; he +must have played escort to those infernal women. . . . Somehow I hadn't +suspected it, and Lady Caroline kept that cat in the bag when I +surprised her at Natchett an hour ago. I wonder why?" + +Ruth had a shrewd guess; but, fearing violence, forbore to tell it. + +He went on: "But what puzzles me more is, how I missed meeting him." + +In truth the explanation was simple enough. Mr. Silk, turning the +corner of the lane, where it bent sharply around Farmer Cordery's +wood-stacks, had chanced to spy Sir Oliver on a rise of the road to the +eastward, and had edged aside and taken cover behind the stacks. He was +now making for Natchett at his best speed. + +"A while ago, you say? How long ago? The thief cannot have gone far--" +Sir Oliver looked behind him. Clearly he had a mind to call for his +horse again and to pursue. + +But Ruth put out a hand. "He is not worth my lord's anger." + +For a moment he stood undecided, then broke into a laugh. +"Was he riding?" + +"He was on horseback, to be more exact." + +"Then he'll find it a stony long way back to Boston." He laughed again. +"You see, I've been worrying myself, off and on, about that trick of +Madcap's--I'll be sworn she came within an ace of crossing her legs that +day. I'd a mind to ride over and bring you Forester--he's a soberer +horse, and can be trusted at timber. I'd resolved on it, in short, even +before my brother Harry happened to blurt out the secret of Lady +Caroline's little expedition. Soon as I heard that, I put George the +groom on Forester, and came in chase. . . . I find her ladyship at +Natchett, and after some straight talking I put George in charge of the +conspirators, with instructions to drive them home. They chose to say +nothing of Silk, and I didn't guess; so now the rogue must either leg it +back or gall himself on a waggon-horse." + +"You worried yourself about me?" + +"Certainly. You don't suppose I want my pupil to break her neck?" + +"You do Madcap injustice. Why, yesterday she jumped--she almost flew-- +this very gate on which I am leaning." + +"The more reason--" he began, and broke off. His tone had been light, +but when he spoke again it had grown graver, sincerer. "It is a fact +that I worried about you, but that is not all the reason why I am here. +The whole truth is more selfish. . . . Ruth, I cannot do without you." + +She put up a hand, leaning back against the gate as though giddy. + +"But why?" he urged, as she made no other response. "Is it that you +still doubt me--or yourself, perhaps?" + +"Both," she murmured. "It is not so easy as you pretend." Bliss had +weakened her for a while, but the weakness was passing. + +"Those women have been talking to you. I can engage, whatever they +said, I gave it back to 'em with interest. They sail by the next ship. +. . . But what did they say?" + +"_They say. What say they? Let them say_," Ruth quoted, her lips +smiling albeit her eyes were moist. "Does it matter what they said?" + +"No; for I can guess. However the old harridan put it, you were asked +to give me up; and, after all, everything turns on our answer to that. +I have given you mine. What of yours?" He stepped close. "Ruth, will +you give me up?" + +She put out her hands as one groping, sightless, and in pain. + +"Ah, you are cruel! . . . You know I cannot." + + + + +BOOK III. + + + + +THE BRIDALS. + + + + +Chapter I. + + + +BETROTHED. + + +Sir Oliver rode back to Boston that same evening. Ruth had stipulated +that his promise to her folk in the beach cottage still held good; that +when the three years were out, and not a day before, she would return to +them and make her announcement. Meanwhile, although the coast would +soon be clear of her enemies and he desired to have her near, she begged +off returning to Sabines. Here at Sweetwater Farm she could ride, with +the large air about her and freedom to think. It was not that she +shirked books and tutors. She would turn to them again, by-and-by. +But at Sweetwater she could think things out, and she had great need of +thinking. + +He yielded. He was passionately in love and could deny her nothing. +He would ride over and pay his respects once a week. + +So he took his leave, and Ruth abode with the Corderys and Miss Quiney. +Disloyal though she felt it, she caught herself wishing, more than once, +that her lord could have taken dear Tatty back with him to Boston. + +I desire to depict Ruth Josselin here as the woman she was, not as an +angel. + +Now Tatty, when Sir Oliver had led Ruth indoors and presented her as his +affianced wife, had been taken aback; not scandalised, but decidedly-- +and, for so slight a creature, heavily--taken aback. It is undoubted +that she loved Ruth dearly; nay, so dearly that in a general way no +fortune was too high to befall her darling. What dreams she had +entertained for her I cannot tell. Very likely they had been at once +splendid and vague. Miss Quiney was not worldly-wise, yet her wisdom +did not transcend what little she knew of the world. She had great +notions of Family, for example. She had imagined, may be--still in a +vague way--that Sir Oliver would some day provide his _protegee_ with a +mate of good, or at least sufficient, Colonial birth. She had been +outraged by Lady Caroline's suggestions. Now this, while it +triumphantly refuted them, did seem to show that Lady Caroline had not +altogether lacked ground for suspicion. + +In fine, the dear creature received a shock, and in her flurry could not +dissemble it. + +Sir Oliver did not perceive this. In the first flush of conquest all +men are a trifle fatuous, unobservant. No woman is. Miss Quiney's arms +did not suddenly go out to Ruth. Ruth noted it. She was just: she +understood. But (I repeat) she was a woman, and women remember +indelibly whatever small thing happens at this crisis of their lives. + +In the end Miss Quiney stretched forth her arms; but at first she seemed +to shrivel and grow very small in her chair. Nor can her first comment +be called adequate,-- + +"Dear sir--oh, but excuse me!--this is so sudden!" + +Later, when she and Ruth were left alone, she explained, still a little +tremulously, "You took me all of a heap, my dear! I can hardly realise +it, even now. . . . Such a splendid position! You will go to London, +I doubt not; and be presented at Court; and be called Lady Vyell. . . . +Have you thought of the responsibilities?" + +She had, and she had not. Her own promised splendours, the command of +wealth and of a great household--this aspect of the future was blank to +her as yet. But another presented itself and frightened her: it engaged +her conscience in doubts even when she shook it free of fears. +The Family--that mysterious shadow of which Lady Caroline no doubt +showed as the ugliest projection! Ruth was conscientious. She divined +that behind Lady Caroline's aggressiveness the shadow held something +truly sacred and worth guarding; something impalpable and yet immensely +solid; something not to be defied or laughed away because inexplicable, +but venerable precisely because it could not be explained; something not +fashioned hastily upon reason, but built by slow accretion, with the +years for its builders--mortared by sentiments, memories, traditions, +decencies, trivialities good and bad, even (may be) by the blood of +foolish quarrels--but founded and welded more firmly, massed more +formidably, than any structure of mere reason; and withal a temple +wherein she, however chastely, might never serve without profaning it. + +I do most eagerly desire you, at this point in her story, to be just to +Ruth Josselin. I wish you to remember what she had suffered, in the +streets, at the hands of self-righteous folk; to understand that it had +killed all religion in her, with all belief in its rites, but not the +essential goodness of her soul. + +She at any rate, and according to the light given her, was incurably +just. Weighing on the one hand her love and Oliver Vyell's, on the +other the half-guessed injury their marriage might do to him and to +others of his race; weighing them not hastily but through long hours of +thought: carrying her doubts off to the hills and there considering them +in solitude, under the open sky; casting out from the problem all of +self save only her exceeding love; this strange girl--made strange by +man's cruelty--decided to give herself in due time, but to exact no +marriage. + +Why should she? The blessing of a clergyman meant nothing to her, as +she was sure it meant nothing to her lover. Why should she tie him a +day beyond the endurance of his love? Beyond the death of the thing +itself what sanctity could live in its husk? And, moreover, in any +event was she not his slave? + +So she reasoned: and let the reader call her reasoning by any name he +will. By some standards it was wicked; by others wrong. It forgot one +of the strongest arguments against itself, as she was in time to prove. +But let none call her unchaste. + + +After certain weeks she brought her arguments to him; standing before +him, halting in her speech a little, but entreating him with eyes as +straight as they were modest. Her very childishness appealed against +her arguments. + +He listened, marvelled, and broke into joyous laughter. He would have +none of it. Why, she was fit to be a queen!--a thousand times too good +for him. His family? Their prejudices should fall down before her and +worship. As little as she did he set store by rites of the Church or +believe in them: but, as the world went, to neglect them would be to +stint her of the chief honour. Was this fair to him, who desired to +heap honours upon her and would stretch for them even beyond his power? + +His passion, rather than his arguments, overbore her. That passion +rejuvenated him. Once or twice it choked his voice, and her heart +leapt; for she was a sensible girl and, remembering the dead Margaret +Dance, had schooled herself to know that what was first love with her, +drenching her heart with ecstasy, could never be first love with him. +Yet now and again the miracle declared itself and instead of a lord, +commanding her, he stood before her a boy: and with a boy's halting +speech--ah, so much dearer than eloquence! + +Beyond a doubt he was over head and ears in love. He was honest, too, +in his desire to set her high and make a queen of her. In Boston, Mr. +Ned Manley, architect of genius, was sitting up into the small hours of +morning; now, between potations of brandy, cursing Sir Oliver for a +slave-driver, while Batty Langton looked on and criticised with a smile +that tolerated a world of fools for the sake of one or two inspired +ones; anon working like a demon and boasting while he worked. +Already on a hillside between Boston and Sweetwater Farm--the hill +itself could be seen from the farmstead, but not their operations, which +lay on the far side--three hundred labourers were toiling in gangs, +levelling, terracing, hewing down forest trees, laying foundations. +Already ships were heading for Boston Harbour with statuary and wrought +marble in their holds, all to beautify a palace meet for Oliver Vyell's +bride. Thus love wrought in him, in a not extraordinary way if we allow +for his extraordinary means. He and Ruth, between them, were beginning +to sing the eternal duet of courtship:-- + + _He_.--Since that I love, this world has grown; + Yea, widens all to be possest. + _She_--Since that I love, it narrows down + Into one little nest. + + _He_.--Since that I love, I rage and burn + O'erwhelming Nineveh with Rome! + _She_.--In vain! in vain! Fond man return-- + Such doings be at home! + +He had reached an age to know himself in his own despite. He was no +boy, to dream of building or overthrowing empires. But he could build +his love a palace. His friend Batty Langton bore with all this energy +and smiled wisely. + +Ruth guessed nothing of these preparations. But his vehemence broke +down her scruples, overbore and swept away what she had built in hours +of patient thinking. She yielded: she would be married, since he willed +it. + +But the debate had been; and it left Tatty, with her maxims and +taken-for-granted practicalities, hard to endure at times. + +"The outfit?" Tatty would suggest. "At this distance from civilisation +we cannot even begin to take it in hand. Yet it should be worthy of the +occasion, and men--speaking with all respect of Sir Oliver--are apt to +overlook these things. Dear Ruth, I do not know if you have thought of +returning to Sabines. . . . So much handier. . . ." + + +Ruth, half-wilfully, refused to think of returning to Sabines. + +But if Tatty fussed, the Cordery lads made more than recompense for her +fussing. From the hour when, at supper-time, Sir Oliver led Miss +Josselin into the kitchen, his bride affianced, all discord ceased +between these young men. He was their master and patron, and they +thenceforth were her servants only--her equal champions should +occasion ever be given. + +Thenceforth too, and until the hour when at nightfall she drove away +from Sweetwater Farm, she was their goddess: and as, while Phoebus +served shepherd to Admetus, his fellow swains noted that never had +harvest been so heavy or life so full of sweet and healthy rivalries, so +these young men, who but once or twice saw Ruth Josselin after the hour +of her departure, talked in scattered homesteads all their days of that +good time at Sweetwater, and of the season's wonderful bearings. +Undoubtedly the winter was a genial one--so genial that scarcely a day +denied Ruth a bracing ride: the spring that followed seemed to rain and +shine almost in obedience to Farmer Cordery's evening prayer (and it +never left the Almighty in doubt of his exact wishes). Summer came, and +the young men, emulous but no longer bickering, scythed down prodigious +swathes; harvest-fall, and they put in their sickles among tall stalk +and full ear. + +Sir Oliver and Ruth watched the harvest. When all was gathered, the +young men begged that she would ride home on the last load. +They escorted her back to the farmstead, walking two-by-two before the +cart, under the young moon. + +Next evening at the same hour she bade them farewell and climbed into a +light waggon that stood ready, its lamps throwing long shafts of light. +Horses had been sent on ahead, with two servants for escort, and would +await her at dawn, far on the road; but to-night she would sleep in the +waggon, upon a scented bed of hay. The reason for this belated start +Sir Oliver kept a secret from her. There was a certain hill upon the +way, and he would not have her pass it by daylight. He had returned +that morning to Boston; Miss Quiney with him. + +Ruth's eyes were moist to leave these good folk. Farmer Cordery cleared +his throat and blessed her in parting. She blessed them in return. + +The waggon, after following the Boston road for a while, turned +northward, bearing her by strange ways and through the night towards +Port Nassau. + + + +Chapter II. + + +THE RETURN. + + +The breakers boomed up the beach, and in the blown spray Old Josselin +pottered, bareheaded and barefoot. His eyesight had grown dimmer, but +otherwise his bodily health had improved, for nowadays he ate food +enough: and, as for purblindness, why there was no real need to keep +watch on the sea. He did it from habit. + +Ruth came on him much as Sir Oliver had come on him three years before; +the roar of the breakers swallowing all sound of Madcap's hoofs until +she was close at his shoulder. Now as then he turned about with a +puzzled face, peered, and lifted his hand a little way as if to touch +his forehead. + +"Your ladyship--" he mumbled, noting only her fine clothes. + +"Grandfather!" + +She slipped down from saddle and kissed him, in sight of the grooms, who +had reined up fifty yards away. + +"What? Ruth, is it? . . . Here's news, now, for your mother, poor +soul!" + +"How is she? Take me to her at once, please." + +"Eh! . . . Your mother keeps well enough; though doited, o' course-- +doited. Properly grown you be, too, I must say. . . . I didn't +reckernise ye comin' on me like that. Inches ye've grown." + +"And you--well, you look just the same as ever; only fuller and haler." + +"Do I?" The old man gave her in the old way certain details of his +health. "But I'm betterin'. Food's a blessin', however ye come +by it." + +On a sudden, as she read his thought, the very tokens of health in his +face accused her . . . and, a moment since, she had been merely glad to +note them. + +"Clothes too, ye'll say? I don't set store by clothes, meself; but a +fine han'some quean they make of ye. That's a mare, too! Cost a +hundred guineas, I shouldn't wonder. . . . Well, an' how's the gentleman +keepin'? Turned into a lord, you told us, in one o' your letters: that, +or something o' the sort." + +"Then at any rate you have read my letters?" + +"Why, to be sure. My old eyes can't tackle 'em; but your mother reads +'em out, over an' over, an' I tell her what this an' that means, an' get +the sense into her head somehow." + +"Take me to her." Ruth signalled to the grooms, who came forward. +They were well-trained servants, recent imports from England, and Sir +Oliver had billeted them where they could hear no gossip of her history. +They had kept their distance with faces absolutely impassive while their +mistress kissed and chatted with this old man, and they merely touched +their hats, with a "Very good, miss," when she gave over the mare, +saying she would walk up to the cottage and rest for an hour. + +"Oo-oof! the dear old smell!" Ruth, before she turned, drew in a deep +breath of it. There was no one near to observe and liken her, standing +there with blown tresses and wind-wrapt skirt on the edge of Ocean, to +the fairest among goddesses, the Sea-born. + +She walked up the beach, the old man beside her. + +"Ay: you reckernise the taste of it, I dessay. But you'd not come back +to it, not you. . . . It must be nigh upon dinner: my belly still keeps +time like a clock. M'ria shall cook us a few clams. Snuffin' won't +bring it back like clams." He chuckled, supposing he had made a joke. + +Her mother had caught sight of them from the window where she sat as +usual watching the sea. As they climbed the slope, picking their way +along loosely-piled wreckwood, she opened the door and stood at first +fastening a clean apron and then rubbing her palms up and down upon it, +as though they were sweaty and she would dry them before she shook +hands. + +"That's so, M'ria!" the old man shouted cheerfully, as his eyes made out +the patch of white apron in the doorway. "It's our Ruth, all right-- +come to pay us a visit!" He bawled it, at close quarters. This was his +way of conveying intelligence to the crazed brain. + +Mrs. Josselin, awed by her daughter's appearance--a little perhaps, by +her loveliness; more, belike, by her air of distinction and her fine +dress (though this was simple enough--a riding suit of grey velvet, with +a broad-brimmed hat and one black feather)--withdrew behind her back the +hand she had been wiping, and stood irresolute, smiling in a timid way. + +It was horrible. Ruth stretched out her arms lest in another moment her +mother should bob a curtsy. + +"Mother--mother!" + +She took the poor creature in her arms and held her, shivering a little +as she sought her lips; for Mrs. Josselin, albeit scrupulously clean, +had a trace of that strange wild smell that haunts the insane. Ruth had +lived with it aforetime and ceased to notice it. Now she recognised it, +and shivered. + +"Surely, surely," said the mother as soon as the embrace released her. +"I always said you would come back, some day. In wealth or in trouble, +I always told grandfather you would come back. . . . That hat, now--the +very latest I'll be bound. . . . And how is your good gentleman?" + +"Mother! Please do not call him that!" + +"Why, you ha'n't quarrelled, ha' you?" + +"Indeed, no." + +"That's right." Mrs. Josselin nodded, looking extremely wise. +"Show a good face always, no matter what happens; and, with your looks +there's no saying what you can't persuade him to. All the Pococks were +good-looking, though I say it who shouldn't: and as for the Josselins--" + +"Sit down, mother," Ruth commanded. She must get this over, and soon, +for it was straining at her heart. "Sit down and listen to what I have +to tell. Afterwards you shall get me something to eat; and while you +are dishing it--dear mother, you were always briskest about the +fireplace--we will talk in the old style." + +"Surely, surely." Mrs. Josselin seated herself on the block-stool. + +"You remember the promise? In three years--and yesterday the three +years were up--I was to come back and report myself." + +"Is it three years, now? Time _do_ slip away!" + +"The gel's right," corroborated old Josselin, pausing as he filled a +pipe. "I remember it." + +"This is what I have to report--Sir Oliver has asked me to marry him." + +There was a pause. "I dunno," said the old man sourly--and Ruth knew +that tone so well! He always used it on hearing good news, lest he +should be mistaken for genial--"I dunno why you couldn' ha' told us that +straight off, without beatin' round the bush. It's important enough." + +"He has asked me to marry him, and I have said 'yes.'" + +"What else _could_ ye say?" + +"Of _course_ she said 'yes,' the darling!" Mrs. Josselin clapped her +hands together, without noise. "What did I ever say but that 'twas a +chance, if you used it? But when is it to be?" she added, suspiciously. + +"Very soon. As soon as I please, in fact." + +"You take my advice and pin him to it. The sooner the better--eh, +darling?" + +Ruth rose wearily. "I see the pot boiling," she said with a glance at +the fireplace, "and I have been on horseback since seven o'clock. +Mother, won't you give me food, at least? I am hungry as a hunter." + +--But this was very nearly a fib. She had been hungry enough, half an +hour ago. Now her throat worked in disgust--not at the hovel and its +poverty; for these were dear--but at the thought that thus for three +years her dearest had been thinking of her. It had been the home of +infinite mutual tolerance, of some affection--an affection not patent +perhaps--and for years it had been all she owned. Now it lived on, but +was poisoned; the atmosphere of the humble place was poisoned, and +through her. + +"Food?"--her mother rose. "Food be sure, and a bed, deary: for you'll +be sleeping here, of course?" + +"No. I go on to Port Nassau; and thence in a few days to a lodging up +in the back country." + +"Such a mare as she's ridin' too!" put in the old man. + +"I wouldn' put up at Port Nassau, if I was you," said her mother pausing +as she made ready to lift the pot-handle. "They won't know what you've +told us, and they'll cast up the old shame on you." + +"M'ria ha'n't talked so sensible for days," said the old man. +"Joy must ha' steadied her. . . . Clams, is it? Clams, I hope." + + +The meal over, Ruth took leave of them, reproaching herself for her +haste, though troubled to have delayed the grooms so long. + +She mounted and rode forward thoughtfully. + +The grooms did not wear the Vyell white and scarlet, but a sober livery +of dark blue. Between more serious thoughts Ruth wondered if any one in +Port Nassau would recognise her. + +The hostess of the Bowling Green did not, but came to the door and +dropped curtsies to her, as to a grand lady. She startled Ruth, +however, by respectfully asking her name. + +Ruth, who had forgotten to provide against this, had a happy +inspiration. + +"I am Miss Ruth," she said. + +The landlady desired to be informed how to spell it. "For," said she, +"I keep a list of all the quality that honour the Bowling Green." + +Ruth signed it boldly in the book presented, and ordered supper to be +brought to her room; also a fire to be lit. She was given the same room +in which she had knelt to pull off Oliver Vyell's boots. + +Whilst supper was preparing, in a panic lest she should be recognised +she tied her hair high and wound it with a rope of pearls--her lover's +first gift to her. In her dress she could make little change. +The waggon following in her wake would be due to-morrow with her boxes; +but for to-night she must rely on the few necessaries of toilet the +grooms had brought, packed in small hold-alls at their saddle bows. + +Her fears proved to be idle. The meal was served by a small maid, upon +whom she once or twice looked curiously. She wondered if the landlady +scolded her often. + +After supper she sat a long while in thought over the fire, shielding +its heat from her with her hands. They were exquisite hands, but once +or twice she turned them palms-uppermost, as though to make sure they +bore no scars. + + + +Chapter III. + + +NESTING. + + +She spent a week in Port Nassau, recognised by none. She walked its +streets, her features half hidden by a veil; and among the Port +Nassauers she passed for an English lady of quality who, by one of those +freaks from which the wealthy suffer, designed to rent or build herself +a house in the neighbourhood. Her accent by this time was English; by +unconscious preference she had learnt it from her lover, translating and +adapting it to her own musical tones. It deceived the Port Nassauers +completely. + +She visited many stores, always with a manservant in attendance; and, +always paying down ready-money, bought of the best the little town could +afford (but chiefly small articles of furniture, with some salted +provisions and luxuries such as well-to-do skippers took to sea for +their private tables). The waggon had arrived; it, too, contained a +quantity of wine and provisions, camp furniture, clothes, etc. + +At the end of the week she left Port Nassau with her purchases, the two +men escorting her, the laden waggon following. They climbed the hill +above the town, and struck inland from the base of the peninsula, +travelling north and by west. The road--a passably good one--led them +across a dip of cultivated land, shaped like a saddle-back, with a line +of forest trees topping its farther ridge. This was the fringe of a +considerable forest, and beyond the ridge they rode for miles in the +shade of boughs, slanting their way along a gentle declivity, with here +and there glimpses of a broad plain below, and of a broad-banded river +winding through it with many loops. + +But these glimpses were rare, and a stranger could not guess the extent +of the plain until, stepping from the forest into broad day, he found +himself on the very skirts of it. + +An ample plain it was; a grass ground of many thousand acres, where +fifty years ago the Indians had pastured, but where now the farmers +laboriously saved their hay when the floods allowed, and in spring +launched their punts and went duck-shooting with long guns and +wading-boots. For in winter one sheet of water--or of ice, as it might +happen--covered the meadows and made the great river one with the many +brooks that threaded their way to her. But at this season they ran low +between their banks and the eye easily traced their meanderings, while +the main stream itself rolled its waters in full view--in places three +hundred yards wide, and seldom narrower than one hundred. Dwarf willows +fringed it: at some distance back from the shore, alders and reddening +maples dotted the meadows, with oaks here and there, and everywhere wild +cranberry bushes in great moss-like hummocks. + +It ran sluggishly, and always--however long the curve--up to its near or +right bank the plain lay flat, or broken only by these hummocks. +But from the farther shore the ground rose at a moderate slope, and here +were farmhouses and haystacks planted above reach of the waters. +A high ridge of forest backed this inhabited terrace, and dense forest +filled the eastward gap through which the river passed down to these +levels from the cleft hills. + +At one point on the farther shore the houses had drawn together in a +cluster, and towards this the road ran in a straight line on the raised +causeway that had suffered much erosion from bygone floods. It cost the +travellers an hour to reach the river-bank, where a ferry plied to and +from the village. It was a horse-boat, but not capable of conveying the +waggon, the contents of which must be unladen and shipped across in +parcels, to be repacked in a cart that stood ready on the village quay. +Leaving her men to handle this, Ruth crossed alone with her mare and +rode on, as the ferryman directed her, past the village towards her +lodging, some two miles up the stream. The house stood beside a more +ancient ferry, now disused, to which it had formerly served as a tavern. +It rested on stout oaken piles driven deep into the river-mud; a notable +building, with a roof like the inverted hull of a galleon, pierced with +dormer windows and topped by a rusty vane. Its tenants were a childless +couple--a Mr. and Mrs. Strongtharm: he a taciturn man of fifty, a born +naturalist and great shooter of wildfowl; she a douce woman, with eyes +like beads of jet, and an incurable propensity for mothering and +spoiling her neighbours' children. + +The couple received her kindly, asking few questions. Their dwelling +was by many sizes too large for them, and she might have taken her +choice among a dozen of the old guest-chambers. But Sir Oliver +had come and gone a month before and selected the best for her. +Its roof-timbers, shaped like the ribs of a ship, curved outwards and +downwards from a veritable keelson; and it was reached by way of a +zig-zagging corridor, lit by port-holes, and adorned in every niche and +corner with cases of stuffed wildfowl. Ruth supped well on game Mr. +Strongtharm's gun had provided, and slept soundly, lulled between her +dreams by the ripple of water swirling between the piles that supported, +far below her, the house's cellarage. + +She awoke at daybreak to the humming of wind; and looked forth on a +leaden sky, on the river ruffled and clapping in small waves against a +shrill north-easter, and on countless birds in flocks rising from the +meadows and balancing their wings against it. Before breakfast-time the +weather had turned to heavy rain. But this mattered nothing; she had a +day's work indoors before her. + +She spent the morning in unpacking the stores, which had arrived late +overnight from the ferry, and in putting a hundred small touches to her +bedroom and sitting-room, to make them more habitable. By noon she had +finished the unpacking, and dismissed the two grooms to make their way +back to Boston and report that all was well with her. It rained until +three in the afternoon; and then, the weather clearing, she saddled +Madcap with her own hands and rode to the edge of the forest. +Little light remained when she reached its outskirts, and she peered +curiously between the dim boles for a few minutes before turning for her +homeward ride. She had brought a beautiful scheme in her head, and the +forest was concerned in it; but for the moment, in this twilight, the +forest daunted her. She had--for she differed from most maidens--left +her lover to arrange all the business of the marriage ceremony, +stipulating only that it must be private. But she had at the same time +bound him by a lover's oath that all details of the honeymoon must be +left to her; that he should neither know where and how it was to be +spent, nor seek to enquire. She would meet him at the church porch in +the village below--in what garb, even, she would not promise; and after +the ceremony he must be ready to ride away with her--she would not +promise whither. + +Her project had been to build a camp far in the woods; and to this end +she had made her many purchases in Port Nassau. They included, besides +an array of provisions and cooking-pots, a hunter's tent such as the +backwoodsmen used in their expeditions after beaver and moose. +It weighed many pounds, and a part of her problem was how to convey it +to any depth of the forest unaided. + +The easterly gale blew itself out. The next morning broke with rifts of +blue, and steadied itself, after two hours, to clear sunshine. +She awoke in blithe spirits, and after breakfast went off without waste +of time to saddle Madcap. By the stable door she found Mr. Strongtharm +seated and polishing his gun, and paused to catechise him on the forest +tracks, particularly on those leading up through Soldier's Gap--by which +name he called the gorge at the head of the plain. + +"The best track beyond, you'll find, lies pretty close 'longside the +river," he said. "But 'tis no road for the mare. I doubt if a mule +could manage it after the third mile. The river, you see, comes through +in a monstrous hurry--by the look of it here you'd never guess. +No, indeed, 'tisn't a river at all, properly speakin', but a whole heap +o' streams tumblin' down this-a-way, that-a-way, out o' the side +valleys; and what you may call the main river don't run in one body, but +breaks itself up considerable over waterfalls. Rock for the most part, +an' pretty steep, with splashy ground below the falls. I han't been +right up the Gap these dozen years; an' a man's job it is at the best--a +two days' journey. The las' time I slept the night, goin' an' comin', +in Peter Vanders' lodge." + +"A lodge?" + +"That's what they call it. He was a trapper, and a famous one, but +before my time; an' that was his headquarters--a sort o' cabin, pretty +stout, just by the head in the sixth fall, or maybe 'tis the seventh-- +I forget. He lived up there without wife or family--" Mr. Strongtharm +would have launched into further particulars about the dead trapper, +whose skill and strange habits had passed into a legend in the valley. +But Ruth wished to hear more of the cabin. + +"It's standin', no doubt, to this day. Vanders was a Dutchman, an' +Dutchmen build strong by nature. The man who built _this_ yer house was +a Dutchman, an' look at the piles of it--_an_ the ribs you may ha' +noticed. Ay, the lodge will be there yet; but you'll never find it, not +unless I takes ye. That fourth fall is a teaser." + +Ruth saddled her mare, and rode off in the direction of the gap, +thoughtfully. Mr. Strongtharm had given her a new notion. . . . + + +It was close upon nightfall when she returned. She was muddy, but +cheerful; and she hummed a song to herself in her chamber as she slid +off her mired garments and attired herself for supper. + +That song was her nesting song. Away Boston-wards, her lover, too, was +building in his magnificent fashion; but Ruth had found a secret place, +such as birds love, and shyly, stealthily as a mating bird, she set +about planning and furnishing. It is woman's instinct. . . . Every day, +as soon as breakfast was done, she saddled and rode towards the Gap, and +always with a parcel or two dangling from the saddle-bow or strapped +upon Madcap's back. + +For the first time in her life she had money to handle; money furnished +by Sir Oliver to be spent at her own disposal on the honeymoon. +It seemed to her a prodigious sum, but she was none the less economical +with it. I fear that sometimes she opened the bags and gloated over the +coins as over a hoard. She was neither miser nor spendthrift; but +unlike many girls brought up in poverty, she brought good husbandry to +good fortune. + +Yet "shopping"--to enter a store and choose among the goods for sale, +having money to pay, but weighing quality and price--was undeniably +pleasant. Twice or thrice, bethinking her of some trifle overlooked at +Port Nassau, she enjoyed visiting the village store--it boasted but +one--and dallying with a purchase. + +She was riding back from one of these visits--it had been (if the Muse +will smile and condescend) to buy a packet of hairpins--when, half-way +up the village street, she spied a horseman approaching. An instant +later she recognised Mr. Trask. + +There was really nothing strange in her meeting him here. Mr. Trask +owned a herd of bullocks, and had ridden over from Port Nassau to +bargain for their winter fodder. He had not aged a day. His horse was +a tall grey, large-jointed, and ugly. + +Ruth wore a veil, but it was wreathed just now above the brim of her +hat. Her first impulse was to draw it over her face, and her hand went +up; but she desisted in pride, and rode by her old enemy with a calm +face. + +They passed one another, and she believed that he had not recognised +her; but after a few paces she heard him check his horse. + +"Hi, madam!" + +She halted, and he came slowly back. + +"You are Ruth Josselin," he said. + +"I am, sir." + +"And what are you doing here?" + +She smiled at him a little scornfully. "Do you ask as a magistrate, +sir, or in curiosity?" + +He frowned, narrowing his eyes. "You are marvellously changed. +You appear prosperous. Has Vyell married you yet?" + +"No, sir." + +"Nor as yet cast you off, it would seem." + +"No, sir." + +"Ah, well, go your ways. You are a beautiful thing, but evil; and I +would have saved ye from it. I whipped ye, remember." + +Her face burned, but she held her eyes steady on him. "Mr. Trask," she +said, "do you believe in hell?" + +"Eh?" He was taken aback, but he could not frown away the question; for +she asked it with a certain authority, albeit very courteously. "Eh? +To be sure I do." + +"I am going to prove to you (and some day you may take comfort from it) +that, except on earth, there is no such place." + +"Ye'd like to believe that, I daresay!" + +"For you see," she went on, letting the sneer pass, "it is agreed that, +if there be a hell, none but the wicked go there." + +"Well?" + +"Why, then, hell must defeat itself. For, where all are wicked +together, no punishment can degrade, because no shame is felt." + +"There's the pain, madam." He eyed her, and barked it in a short, +savage laugh. "The torment--the worm that dies not, the fire that's not +quenched. Won't these content ye, bating the shame?" + +Her eyes answered his in scorn. "No, sir. Because I once suffered your +cruelty, you have less understanding than I; but you have more ingenuity +than the Almighty, being able, in your district, to make a hell of +earth." + +"You blaspheme thus to me, that honestly tried to save your soul?" + +"Did you? . . . Well, perhaps you did in your fashion, and you may take +this comfort for reward. Believe me, who have tried, hell is +bottomless, but in its own way. Should ever you attain to it--and there +may in another world be such a place for the cruel--go down boldly; and +it may be you will drop through into bliss." + +"You, to talk of another world!" he snapped. + +"And why not, Mr. Trask? Once upon a time you killed me." + +He turned his grey horse impatiently. "I whipped ye," was his parting +shot. "If 'twarn't too late, I'd take pleasure to whip ye again!" + + + +Chapter IV. + + +THE BRIDEGROOM. + + +Mr. Trask had not concluded the bargain for his winter fodder. +Just a week later he rode over from Port Nassau, to clinch it, and had +almost reached the foot of the descent to the river meadows when a +better mounted rider overtook him. + +"Ah!" said the stranger, checking his horse's stride as he passed. +"Good-morning, Mr. Trask! But possibly you do not remember me?" + +"I remember you perfectly," answered Mr. Trask. "You are Sir Oliver +Vyell." + +"Whom, once on a time, you sentenced to the stocks. You recall our last +conversation? Well, I bear you no malice; and, to prove it, will ask +leave to ride to the ferry with you. You will oblige me? I like +companionship, and my one fellow-traveller--a poor horseman--I have left +some way behind on the road." + +"I have no wish to ride with you, Sir Oliver," said Mr. Trask stiffly. +"Forbye that I consider ye a son of Belial, I have a particular quarrel +with you. At the time you condescend to mention, I took it upon me to +give you some honest advice--not wholly for your own sake. You flouted +it, and 'that's nothing to me' you'll say; but every step we take +worsens that very sin against which I warned ye, and therefore I want +none of your company." + +"Honest Mr. Trask," Sir Oliver answered with a laugh. "I put it to you +that, having fallen in together thus agreeably, we shall make ourselves +but a pair of fools if one rides ahead of the other in dudgeon. Add to +this that the ferry-man, spying us, will wait to tide us over together; +and add also, if you will, that I have the better mount and it lies in +my will that you shall neither lag behind nor outstrip me. Moreover, +you are mistaken." + +"I am not mistaken. This day week I met Ruth Josselin and had speech +with her." + +"Satisfactory, I hope?" + +"It was not satisfactory; and if I must ride with you, Sir Oliver, +you'll understand it to be under protest. You are a lewd man. You have +taken this child--" + +Here Mr. Trask choked upon speech. Recovering, he said the most +unexpected thing in the world. + +"I am not as a rule a judge of good looks; and no doubt 'tis unreason in +me to pity her the more for her comeliness. But as a matter of fact I +do." + +Sir Oliver stared at him. "_You_ to pity her! _You_ to plead her +beauty to _me_, who took it out of the mud where you had flung her, +mauled by you and left to lie like a bloody clout!" + +But the armour of Mr. Trask's self-righteousness was not pierced. +"I sentenced her," he replied calmly, "for her soul's welfare. +Who said--what right have you to assume--that she would have been left +to lie there? Rather, did I not promise you in the market-square that, +her chastening over, my cart should fetch her? Did I not keep my word? +And could you not read in the action some earnest that the girl would be +looked after? Your atheism, sir, makes you dull in spiritual +understanding." + +"I am glad that it does, sir." + +"If your passion for Ruth Josselin held an ounce of honesty, you would +not be glad; for even in this world you have ruined her." + +"Mr. Trask, I have not." + +Mr. Trask glanced at him quickly. + +"--Upon my honour as a gentleman I have not, neither do I desire +it . . . Sir, twice in this half-mile you have prompted me to ask, +What, here on this meadow, prevents my killing you? Wait; I know your +answer. You are a courageous man and would say that as a magistrate you +have schooled yourself to accept risks and to despise threats. Yes," +Sir Oliver admitted with a laugh, "you are an infernally hard nut to +crack, and somehow I cannot help liking you for it. Are you spending +the night yonder, by-the-bye?" He nodded towards the village. + +"No, sir. I propose returning this evening to Port Nassau." + +"Then it is idle to invite you to my wedding. I am to be married at +nine o'clock to-morrow." + +Mr. Trask eyed him for a moment or two. Then his gaze wandered ahead to +the river, where already the ferrymen had caught sight of them and were +pushing the horse-boat across with long sweeps; and beyond the river to +a small wooden-spired church, roofed with mossy shingles that even at +this distance showed green in the slant sunlight. + +"Yonder?" he asked. + +"Ay: you would have been welcome." + +"I will attend," said Mr. Trask. "A friend of mine--a farmer--will +lodge me for the night. A hospitable man, who has made the offer a +score of times. After so many refusals I am glad of an excuse for +accepting." + +"I stipulate that you keep the excuse a secret from him. It is to be +quite private. That," said Sir Oliver, turning in saddle for a look +behind him, "is one of my reasons for outriding my fellow-traveller." + +"The clergyman?" + +"Ay . . . To-morrow, maybe, you'll admit to having misjudged us." + +"Maybe," Mr. Trask conceded. "I shall at any rate thank God, +provisionally. He is merciful. But I have difficulty in believing that +any good can come of it." + + + +Chapter V. + + +RUTH'S WEDDING DAY. + + +She had left it all to him, receiving his instructions by letter. +It was to be quite private, as he had told Mr. Trask. She would ride +down to the village in her customary grey habit, as though on an early +errand of shopping. He would lodge overnight at the Ferry Inn, and be +awaiting her by the chancel step. Afterwards--ah, that was her secret! +In this, their first stage in married life, he had promised--reversing +the marriage vow--to obey. + +Happiness bubbled within her like a spring; overshadowed by a little +awe, but not to be held down. Almost at the last moment she must take +Mrs. Strongtharm into her confidence. She could not help it. + +"Granny," she whispered. (They were great friends.) "I am to be married +to-morrow." + +"Sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Strongtharm, peering at her, misdoubting that +she jested. + +But Ruth's face told its own tale. "May I?" asked the elder woman, and +her arm went about the girl's waist. "God bless ye, dear, and send ye a +long family! Who's the gentleman? Not him as came an' took the rooms +for ye? He said you was a near relation o' his. . . . Well, never mind! +The trick's as old as Abram." + +"Be down at the church at nine to-morrow, and you shall see him, whoever +he is. But it is a secret, and you are not to tell Mr. Strongtharm." + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Strongtharm. "_Him!_" + + +"But you ought to make _some_ difference," whispered the good woman next +morning, after breakfast, as she was preparing to slip away to the +village. "Be it but a flower in your bodice. But we've no garden, and +the season's late." + +Ruth took her kiss of benediction. She was scarcely listening; but the +words by a strange trick repeated themselves on her brain a few minutes +later, upstairs, as she went about her last preparations. + +She leaned out at the lattice over the river. A lusty creeper, rooted +in _terra firma_ at the back of the house, had pushed its embrace over +west side and front. The leaves, green the summer through, were now +turned to a vivid flame-colour. She plucked three or four and pinned +them over her bosom, glanced at the effect in the mirror, and went +quickly down the stairs. + +Fairer day could hardly have been chosen. "Happy is the bride the sun +shines on." ... In the sunshine by the stable door Mr. Strongtharm sat +polishing his gun. She asked him what sport he would be after to-day. + +He answered, "None. I don't reckon 'pon luck, fishing, after a body's +mentioned rabbits; and I don't go gunning if I've seen a parson. +A new parson, I mean. Th' old Minister's all in the day's work." + +"You have seen a strange clergyman to-day?" + +"Yes; as I pulled home past the Ferry. I'd been down-stream early, +tryin' for eels. On my way back I saw him--over my left shoulder too. +He was comin' out o' the Inn by the waterside door, wipin' his mouth: a +loose-featured man, with one shoulder higher than t'other, and a hard +drinker by his looks." + +Ruth saddled-up and mounted in silence. Fatally she recognised the old +fellow's description; but--was it possible her lover had brought this +man to marry them?--this man, whose touch was defilement, to join their +hands? If the precisians of Port Nassau had made religion her tragedy, +this man had come in, by an after-blow, to turn it into a blasphemous +farce. If Ruth had lost Faith, she yet desired good thoughts, to have +everything about her pure and holy--and on this day, of all days! + +Surely Oliver--she had taught herself to call him Oliver--would never +misunderstand her so! Why, it was a misunderstanding that went down, +down, almost to the roots. _Those whom God hath joined together let no +man put asunder_ . . . but here was cleavage, and from within. +Say rather of such sundering. What man could remedy it? _Those whom +God hath joined together_--ah, by such hands! + +It was not possible! In all things her lover had shown himself +considerate, tender; guessing, preventing her smallest wish. +As she rode she sought back once more to the wellspring of love. +Had he not stooped to her as a god, lifted her from the mire? +It was not possible. + +Yet, as she rode, the unconquerable common sense within her kept +whispering that this thing _was_ possible. . . . It darkened the +sunlight. She rode as one who, having sung carelessly for miles, +surmises a dreadful leap close ahead. Still she rode on, less and less +sure of herself, and came to the church porch, and alighted. + +The church was a plain oblong building, homely within to the last +degree. The pews were of pitch-pine, the walls and rafters coated with +white-wash, some of which had peeled off and lay strewing the floor. +A smell of oil filled the air; it was sweet and sickly, and came from +the oozings of half a dozen untended lamps. Ornament the place had +none, save a decent damask cloth on the Communion table. + +Oliver Vyell stood by the chancel rail. The rest of the congregation +comprised Mr. Trask, seated stiff and solitary in the largest pew, Mrs. +Strongtharm, and half a score of children whom Mrs. Strongtharm had +collected on the way and against her will. They followed her by habit, +after goodies; but just now, though they sat quiet, her reputation was +suffering from a transient distrust. (Allurements to piety rarely fell +in the path of a New England child; but even he was child enough to +suspect them when they occurred.) At the sound of the mare's footsteps +they turned their heads, one and all. Mr. Silk, clad in white surplice +and nervously turning the pages of the Office by the holy table, faced +about also. + +Ruth was seen alighting, out there in the sunlight. She hitched the +mare's bridle over a staple and came lightly stepping through the shadow +of the porchway. Her lover walked down the aisle to meet her. He, too, +stepped briskly, courteously. + +Three paces within the doorway she came to a halt. The sunlight fell on +her again, through the first of the southern windows. It flamed on the +leaves pinned to her bosom. + +He offered his arm. But she, that had come stepping like a wild fawn, +like a fawn stood at gaze, terrified, staring past him at the figure by +the table. Mr. Silk commanded an oily smile and, book in hand, advanced +to the chancel step. + +"Ah, no!" she murmured. "It is wicked--" + +She cast her eyes around, as though for help. They did not turn--it was +pitifullest of all--to him who was about to swear to help her throughout +life. They turned and encountered Mr. Trask's. + +With a sob, as Sir Oliver would have taken her arm, she threw it up, +broke from him, and fled back through the porchway. As she drew back +that one pace before fleeing, the sun fell full again on that +breast-knot of scarlet leaves. + +He stared after her dumbfoundered, still doubting her intent. +He saw her catch at the mare's bridle, and, with a bitter curse, ran +forward. But he was too late. She had mounted, and was away. + +He heard the mare's hoofs clattering up the street. His own horse was +stabled at the Ferry Inn. It would cost him ten minutes at least to +mount and pursue. . . . + +"I said 'provisionally.'" It was Mr. Trask's voice, speaking at his +elbow. "Nay, man, don't strike me; since you meant business, 'tis +yourself you should strike for a fool. You were a fool to invite me; +but she was scared before ever she caught sight of _me_--by that +buck-parson of yours, I guess." + + +He had fetched Bayard, had mounted, and was after her. He pulled rein +at her lodgings. Yes, Mr. Strongtharm had seen her go by. +The old fellow did not guess what was amiss; as how should he? +"It's cruel for the mare's hoofs," he commented, "forcing her that pace +on the hard road. She rides well, s' far as ridin' goes; but the best +womankind on horseback has neither bowels nor understandin'." + +He pointed towards Soldiers' Gap. "She rides there most days," he said; +"but it can't be far. There's no Christian road for a horse, once +you're past the second fall." + +Oliver Vyell struck spur and followed. Already he had the decency to +curse himself, but not yet could he understand his transgressing. + + +"Your atheism"--Mr. Trask had said it--"makes you dull in spiritual +understanding." + +Sceptics are of two orders, and religious disputants gain a potential +advantage, but miss truth, by confusing them. Oliver Vyell was dull, +and his dullness had betrayed him, precisely because his reason was so +lucid and logical that it shut out those half-tones in which abide all +men's, all women's, tenderest feelings. He knew that Ruth had no more +faith than he in Christian dogma; no faith at all in what a minister's +intervention could do to sanctify marriage. He had inferred that she +must consider the tying of the knot by Mr. Silk, if not as a fair jest, +at least as a gentle mockery, the humour of which he and she would +afterwards taste together. Why had she not pleaded against rite of any +kind? . . . Besides, the dog had once insulted her with a proposal. +Sir Oliver never allowed Mr. Silk to guess that he had surprised his +secret; and Mr. Silk, tortuous himself in all ways, could not begin to +be on terms with a candid soul such as Ruth's, craving in all things to +be open where it loves. Sir Oliver had supposed it a pretty lesson to +put on a calm, negligent face, and command the parson, who dared not +disobey, to perform the ceremony. Mr. Silk had cringed. + +Likewise, when inviting Mr. Trask to the nuptials, he had looked on him +but as a witness to his triumph. The very man who had sentenced her to +degradation--was there not dramatic triumph in summoning him to behold +her exalted? + +For behind all this reasoning, of course, and below all his real passion +for her, lay the poisonous, proud, Whig sense of superiority, the +conviction that, desirable though she was, his choice exalted her. +Would not ten thousand women--would not a hundred thousand--have counted +it heaven to stand in her place? + +Yet she had earnestly begged off the rite which to every one of these +women would have meant everything. This puzzled him. + +On second thoughts the puzzle had dissolved. She accepted his +negations, and, woman-like, improved on them. The marriage service was +humbug; therefore she had willed to have none of it. The attitude was +touching. It might have been convenient, had he been less in love. + +But he was deeply in love, so deeply that in good earnest he longed to +lift and set her above all women. For this, nonsensical though they +were, due rites must be observed. + +At the last pinch she had broken away. Was it possible, then, that +after all she did not love him? She had crossed her arms once and +called herself his slave. . . . + +Not for one moment did he understand that other scepticism which, forced +out of faith, clasps and clings to reverence; which, though it count the +rite inefficient, yet sees the meaning, and counts the moment so holy +that to contaminate the rite is to poison all. + +Not as yet did he understand one whit of this. But he vehemently +desired her, and his desire was straight. Because it was straight, +while he rode some inkling of the truth pierced him. + +For, as he rode, he recalled how she had cast up an arm and turned to +flee. His eyes had rested confusedly on the breast-knot of scarlet +leaves, and it seemed to him, as he rode, that he had seen her heart +beating there through her ribs. + + + +Chapter VI. + + +"YET HE WILL COME--". + + +The cabin stood close above the fall. It was built of oak logs split in +two, with the barked and rounded sides turned outward. Pete Vanders +would have found pine logs more tractable and handier to come by, and +they would have outlasted his time; but, being a Dutchman, he had built +solidly by instinct. + +Also, he had chosen his ledge cunningly or else with amazing luck. +A stairway shaped in the solid rock--eight treads and no more--led down +to the very brink of the first cascade; yet through all these years, +with their freshets and floods, the cabin had clung to its perch. +Within doors the ears never lost the drone of the waters. There were +top-notes that lifted or sank as the wind blew, but below them the deep +bass thundered on. + +Ruth had doffed her riding-dress for a bodice and short skirt of russet, +and moved about the cabin tidying where she had tidied a score of times +already. Through the window-opening drifted wisps of smoke, aromatic +and pungent, from the fire she had built in an angle of the crags a few +yards from the house. (It had been the Dutchman's hearth. She had +found it and cleared the creepers away, and below them the rock-face was +yet black with the smoke of old fires.) Some way up the gorge, where, at +the foot of a smaller waterfall, the river divided and swirled about an +island covered with sweet grass--a miniature meadow--her mare grazed at +will. About a fortnight ago, having set aside three days for the +search, on the second Ruth had found a circuitous way through the woods. +A part of it she had cleared with a billhook, and since then Madcap had +trodden a rough pathway with her frequent goings and comings. +It had immensely lightened the labour of furnishing, but she feared that +the pasturage would last but a day or two. Her lover, when he came, +must devise means of sending the mare back. + +She never doubted his coming. He would probably miss the bridle-path, +the opening of which she had carefully hidden, and be forced to make the +ascent on foot. But he would come. See, she was laying out his clothes +for him! He had sent to Sweetwater, at her request, two valises full, +packed by Manasseh; and she had conveyed them hither with the rest of +the furniture. Carefully now she made her selection from the store: +coat, breeches of homespun and leather, stout boots, moccasined leggings +such as the Indians wore, woollen shirts--but other shirts also of +finest cambric--with underclothes of silk, and delicate nightshirts, and +silken stockings that could be drawn like soft ribbons between the +fingers. She thrilled as she handled them garment by garment. +Along the wall hung his two guns, with shot-bag and powder-flask. + +Here was his home. Here were his clothes. . . . She had forgiven him, +hours ago, without necessity for his pleading. So would he forgive her. +After all, what store did he set by church ceremony. He had vowed to +her a dozen times that he set none. He loved her; that was enough, and +assurance of his following. He would confess that she had been right. + . . . As she moved about, touching, smoothing this garment and that, +there crossed her memory the Virgilian refrain-- + + "_Nihil ille deos, nil carmina curat. + Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin._" + +She murmured it, smiling to herself as she recalled also the dour figure +of Mr. Hichens in the library at Sabines, seated stiffly, listening +while she construed. If only tutors guessed what they taught! + +She hummed the lines: "_Nihil ille deos_"--he cared nothing for church +rites; "_nil carmina_"--she needed no incantations. + +She never doubted that he would arrive; but, as the day wore on, she +told herself that very likely he had missed his road. He would arrive +hungered, in any event. . . . She stepped out to the cooking-pot, and, +on her way, paused for a long look down the glen. The sun, streaming +its rays over the high pines behind her, made rainbows in the spray of +the fall and cast her shadow far over the hollow at her feet. +The water, plunging past her, shot down the valley in three separate +cascades, lined with slippery rock, in the crevices of which many ferns +had lodged and grew, waving in the incessantly shaken air. From the +pool into which the last cascade tumbled--a stone dislodged by her foot +dropped to it almost plumb--the stream hurtled down the glen, following +the curve of its sides until they overlapped; naked cliffs above, +touched with sunlight, their feet set in peat, up which the forest trees +clambered as if in a race for the top--pines leading, with heather and +scrubby junipers, oaks and hemlocks some way behind; alders, mostly by +the waterside, with maples in swampy patches, and here and there a birch +waving silver against the shadow. The pines kept their funereal plumes, +like undertakers who had made a truce with death by making a business of +it. But these deciduous trees, that had rioted in green through spring +and summer, wrapped themselves in robes to die, the thinner the more +royal; the maples in scarlet, the swamp-oak in purple--bloody purple +where the sun smote on its upper boughs. Already the robes had worn +thin, and their ribs showed. Leaves strewed the flat rock where Ruth +stood, looking down. + +She was not thinking of the leaves, nor of the fall of the year. +She was thinking that her lord would be hungered. She went back to her +cooking-pot under the cliff overhung with heath and juniper. + +Herself fearless--or less fearful than other women--she did not for some +time let her mind run on possible accidents to him. He was a man, and +would arrive, though tired and hungered. Not until the sun sank behind +the upper pines did any sense of her own loneliness assail her. +Then she bethought her that with night, if he delayed, the forest would +wrap her around, formless, haunted by wild beasts. The singing of +birds, never in daylight utterly drowned by the roar of the fall, had +ceased about her; the call of the hidden chickadees, the cheep-cheep of +a friendly robin, hopping in near range of the cooking-pot, the sawing +of busy chipmunks. + +These sounds had ceased; but she did not feel the silence until, far up +the valley behind her, a loon sent forth its sole unhappy cry. +It rang a moment between the cliffs. As it died away she felt how +friendly had been these casual voices, and wondered what beasts the +forest might hold. + +She went back to the cabin, lit a lamp, and lifted one of the guns off +its rack. She charged it--well she had learnt how to charge a gun. + +Twilight was falling. The fire burned beneath the cooking-pot; but, +seated on the flat stone with the gun laid across her knees and the fall +sounding beneath her, she had another thought--that the fire, set in an +angle of the rock, and moreover hidden around the house's corner, was +but a poor signal. It shed no ray down the glen. + +She would light another fire on the flat stone. In the dusk she +collected dry twigs, piled stouter sticks above them, covered the whole +with leaves, and lit it, fetching a live brand from under the +cooking-pot. The flame leapt up, danced over the leaves, died down and +again revived. When assured that it was caught, she sat beside it, +staring across the flame over the valley now swallowed in darkness, +still with the gun laid across her knees. + +"Ruth! O Ruth!" + +His voice came up over the roar of the fall--which, while he stumbled +among the boulders below, had drowned his footsteps. + +"Dear! Ah--have a care!" + +"Yes; hold a light. . . . It must be dangerous here." + +She snatched a brand from the fire. She had collected a fresh heap of +twigs and leaves in the lap of her gown, groping in the dusk for them; +and his first sight of her had been as she stood high emptying them in a +red stream to feed the flames. A witch she seemed, pouring sacrifice on +that wild altar, while the light of it danced upon her face and figure. +Having gained the ledge of the second cascade, he anchored himself on +good foothold and stared up, catching breath before he hailed. + +Her first glimpse of him, as she held the blazing stick over the edge of +the fall, was of a face damp with sweat or with spray, and of his hands +reaching up the slimed rock, feeling for a grip. + +"Ah, be careful! Shall I come down to you?" For the first time she +realised his peril. + +"_Over rocks that are steepest_," he quoted gaily, between grunts of +hard breathing. He had handhold now. "Hero on her tower--and faith, +Leander came near to swimming for it--once or twice" (grunt) "_Over the +mountains, And over the waves_--hullo! that rock of yours overhangs. +What's to the left?" (grunt) "Grass? I mistrust grass on these ledges. + . . . Reach down your hand, dear Ruth, to steady me only. . . ." + +She flung herself prone on the flat rock beside the fire, and gave a +hand to him. He caught it, heaved himself over the ledge with a final +grunt of triumph, and dropped beside her, panting and laughing. + +"You might have killed yourself!" she shivered. + +"And whom, then, would you have reproached?" + +"You might have killed yourself--and then--and then I think I should +have died too." + +"Ruth!" + +"My lord will be hungry. He shall rest here and eat." + +He flung a glance towards the cabin; or rather--for the dusk hid its +outlines--towards the light that shone cosily through the window-hatch. + +"Not yet!" she murmured. "My lord shall rest here for a while." +She was kneeling now to draw off his shoes. He drew away his foot, +protesting. + +"Child, I am not so tired, but out of breath, and--yes--hungry as a +hunter." + +"My lord will remember. It was the first service I ever did for him." +It may have been an innocent wile to anchor him fast there and helpless. + . . . At any rate she knelt, and drew off his shoes and carried them to +a little distance. "Next, my lord shall eat," she said; and having +rinsed her hands in the stream and spread them a moment to the flame to +dry, sped off to the cabin. + +In a minute she was back with glasses and clean napkins, knives, forks, +spoons, and a bottle of wine; from a second visit she returned with +plates, condiments, and a dish of fruit. Then, running to the +cooking-pot, she fetched soup in two bowls. "And after that," she +promised, "there will be partridges. Mr. Strongtharm shot them for me, +for I was too busy. They are turning by the fire on a jack my mother +taught me to make out of threads that untwist and twist again. . . . +Shall I sit here, at my lord's feet?" + +"Sit where you will, but close; and kiss me first. You have not kissed +me yet--and it is our wedding day. Our wedding feast! O Ruth--Ruth, my +love!" + +"Our wedding feast! . . . Could it be better! O my dear, dear lord! + . . . But I'll not kiss you yet." + +"Why, Ruth?" + +"Why, sir, because I will not--and that's a woman's reason. +Afterwards--but not now! You boasted of your hunger. What has become +of it?" + + +They ate for a while in silence. The stream roared at their feet. +Above them, in the gap of the hills, Jupiter already blazed, and as the +last of the light faded, star after star came out to keep him company. + +He praised her roasting of the partridges. "To-morrow," she answered, +"you shall take your gun and get me game. We must be good providers. +To-morrow--" + +"To-morrow--and for ever and ever--" He poured wine and drank it +slowly. + +"Ah, look up at the heavens! And we two alone. Is this not best, +after all? Was I not right?" + +"Perhaps," he answered after a pause. "It is good, at all events." + +"To-morrow we will explore; and when this place tires us--but my lord +has not praised it yet--" + +"Must I make speeches?" + +"No. When this place tires us, we will strike camp and travel up +through the pass. It may be we shall find boatmen on the upper waters, +and a canoe. But for some days, O my love, let these only woods be +enough for us!" + +Their dessert of fruit eaten, she arose and turned to the business of +washing-up. He would have helped; but she mocked him, having hidden his +shoes. "You are to rest quiet, and obey!" + +Before setting to work she brought him coffee and a roll of +tobacco-leaf, and held a burning stick for him while he lit and inhaled. + +For twenty minutes, perhaps, he watched her, stretched on the rock, +resting on his elbow, his hunger appeased, his whole frame fatigued, but +in a delicious weariness, as in a dream. + +Far down the valley the full moon thrust a rim above the massed oaks and +hemlocks. It swam clear, and he called to her to come and watch it. + +She did not answer. She had slipped away to the house--as he supposed +to restore the plates to their shelves. Apparently it took her a long +while. . . . He called again to her. + +The curtain of the doorway was lifted and she stood on the threshold, +all in white, fronting the moon. + +"Will my lord come into his house?" + +Her voice thrilled down to him. . . . Then she remembered that he stood +there shoeless; and, giving a little cry, would have run barefoot down +the moonlit rocky steps, preventing him. + +But he had sprung to his unshod feet, and with a cry rushed up to her, +disregarding the thorns. + +She sank, crossing her arms as a slave--in homage, or, it may be, to +protect her maiden breasts. + +"No, no--" she murmured, sliding low within his arms. "Look first +around, if our house be worthy!" + +But he caught her up, and lifting her, crushing her body to his, carried +her into the hut. + + + +Chapter VII. + + +HOUSEKEEPING. + + +She awoke at daybreak to the twittering of birds. Raising herself +little by little, she bent over him, studying the face of her beloved. +He slept on; and after a while she slipped from the couch, collected her +garments in a bundle, tiptoed to the door, and lifting its curtain, +stole out to the dawn. + +Mist filled the valley below the fall. A purple bank of vapour blocked +the end of it. But the rolling outline was edged already with gold, and +already ray upon ray of gold shivered across the upper sky and touched +the pinewoods at the head of the pass. + +Clad in cloak and night-rail, shod in loose slippers of Indian +leather-work, she moved across to the fire she had banked overnight. +Beside it a bold robin had perched on the rim of the cooking-pot. +He fluttered up to a bough, and thence watched her warily. She remade +the fire, building a cone of twigs; fetched water, scoured the cauldron, +and hung it again on its bar. As she lifted it the sunlight glinted on +the ring her lover had brought for the wedding and had slipped on her +finger in the cabin, binding her by this only rite. + +The fire revived and crackled cheerfully. She caught up the bundle +again and climbed beside the stream, following its right bank until she +came to the pool of her choice. There, casting all garments aside, she +went down to it, and the alders hid her. + +Half an hour later she returned and paused on the threshold of the hut, +the sunlight behind her. In her arms she carried a cluster--a bundle +almost--of ferns and autumnal branches--cedar and black-alder, the one +berried with blue the other with coral, maple and aromatic spruce, with +trails of the grape vine. He was awake and lay facing the door, +half-raised on his left elbow. + +"This for good-morning!" She held out the armful to show him, but so +that it hid her blushes. Then, dropping the cluster on the floor, she +ran and knelt, bowing her face upon the couch beside him. But laying a +palm against either temple he forced her to lift it and gaze at him, +mastering the lovely shame. + +He looked long into her eyes. "You are very beautiful," he said slowly. + +She sprang to her feet. "See the dew on my shoes! I have bathed, +and--" with a gesture of the hand towards the scattered boughs-- +"afterwards I pulled these for you. But I was in haste and late +because--because--" She explained that while bathing she had let the +ring, which was loose and heavy, slip from her finger into the pool. +It had lodged endwise between two pebbles, and she had taken some +minutes to find it. "As for these," she said, "the flowers are all +done, but I like the leaves better. In summer our housekeeping might +have been make-believe; now, with the frosts upon us, we shall have hard +work, and a fire to give thanks for." + +He slid from the couch and, standing erect, threw a bath-gown over his +shoulders. "I must build a chimney," he said, looking around; "a +chimney and a stone hearth." + +"Then our house will be perfect." + +"I will start this very day. . . . Show me the way to your pool." + + +They ate their breakfast on the stone above the fall, in the warm +sunshine, planning and talking together like children. He would build +the chimney; but first he must climb down to the lower valley and find +Bayard, deserted at the foot of the falls, and left to wander all night +at will. + +He must take the mare, too, she said; and promised to start him on the +bridle-path, so that he could not miss it. + +"What! Must I ride on a side-saddle?" + +"It should be easy for you," she laughed. "You pretended to know all +about it when you taught me." In the end it was settled that she should +ride and he walk beside till Bayard was found. "Then you can lead her +back and leave her with Mr. Strongtharm." + +"But I shall need Bayard to bring home a sack of lime for my mortar. +And you are over thoughtful for Madcap. I walked up to inspect the +pasture, and there is enough to last the pair for a week. It is odds, +too, we find some burnt lands at the back of these woods, with patches +of good grass. Let us keep the horses up here, at any rate until the +nights turn colder. A taste of hard faring will be good for their +pampered flesh, as for mine. Besides--though you may not know it--I am +a first-class groom." + +"As well as a mason? You will have to turn hunter, too, before long, +else your cook will be out of work. Dear, dear, how we begin to crowd +the days!" + + +For a whole week he worked at intervals, building his chimney with +stones from the river bed, and laying them well and truly. Ruth helped +him at whiles, when household duties did not claim her. Now and then, +when his back ached with the toil, he would break off for a spell and +watch her as she stooped over the cooking-pot, or knelt by the +stream-side, bare-legged, with petticoat kilted high, beating the linen +on a flat stone. + +When the chimney was finished they were in great anxiety lest, being +built close under the cliff, it should catch a down-draught of the wind +and fill the dwelling with smoke. But the wind came, and, as it turned +out, made a leap from the cliff to the valley, singing high overhead and +missing the chimney clear. When they lit their first fire indoors and +ran forth to see the smoke rising in a thin blue pillar against the +pines, they laughed elated, and at supper drank to their handiwork. + +Ruth's first sacrifice on the new hearth was the solemn heating of a +flat iron, to crimp and pleat her lover's body-linen. + +Next day he shot a deer and flayed it; and, the next, set to work to +build a bed. Their couch had been of white linen laid upon skins, the +skins resting on a thick mat of leaves. Now he raised it from the +ground on four posts, joining the posts with a stout framework and +lacing the framework with cords criss-crossed like the netting of a +hammock. Also he replaced the curtain at the entrance with a door of +split pinewood, and fashioned a wooden bolt. + +The halcyon weather held for two weeks, the delicate weather of Indian +summer. Day by day the forest dropped its leaves under a blue windless +sky; but the nights sharpened their frosts. Ruth, stealing early to her +bathing-pool, found it edged with thin ice, and paused, breaking it with +taps of her naked foot while she braced her body for the cold shock. + +The flat rock over the fall was still their supper-table. After supping +they would wrap themselves closer in their cloaks of bearskin, and sit +for long, his arm about her body. The stars wheeled overhead. +At a little distance shone the open window inviting them. +From their ledge they overlooked the world. + + +She marvelled at the zest he threw into every moment and detail of this +strange honeymooning. He had taken pride even in skinning and cutting +up the slain deer. + +She had, in fact, being fearful of her experiment; had planned it, in +some sort, as a test for him. She was no sentimentalist. She had +believed that he loved her--well she knew it now. But for him this +could not be first love. Many times she had bethought her of the dead +Margaret Dance, and as a sensible girl without resentment. But, herself +in the ecstasy of first love, she marvelled how it could die and +anything comparable spring up in its room; and she had only her own +heart to interrogate. Her own heart told her that it was impossible. +"Fool!" said her own heart. "Is it not enough that he condescends--that +you have found favour in his sight--you, that asked but to be his +slave?" + +"Fool!" said her heart again. "Would you be jealous of this dead woman? +Then jealousy is not cruel as the grave, but crueller." + +And she retorted, "The woman is dead and cannot grudge it. +Ah, conscience! are you the only part of me that has not slept in his +arms. I want him all--all!" + +"How can that be--since you are not his first love?" objected +conscience, falling back upon its old position. + +"Be still," she whispered back. "See how love is recreating him!" + +Indeed, the secret may have lain in her passing loveliness--by night, +beside their fire on the rock, he would sit motionless watching her face +for minutes together, or the poise of her head, or the curve of her chin +as she tilted it to ponder the stars; and, in part, the woodland life, +chosen by her so cunningly, may have bewitched him for a space. Certain +it is that during their sojourn here he became a youth again, eager and +glad as a youth, passionate as a youth, laughing, throwing his heart +into simple things and not shrinking from coarser trials--as when he +plunged his hands into the blood of the deer. + +This story is of Ruth, not of Oliver Vyell; or of him only in so far as +his star ruled hers. For the moment their stars danced together and the +common cares of this world stood back for a space and left a floor for +them. + +Their bliss was absolute. But the seed of its corruption lay in him. +Her spirit was chaste, as her life had been. For him, before ever +Margaret Dance met and crossed his path, he had lived loosely, +squandering his manhood; and of this squandering let one who later +underwent it record the inevitable sentence. + + "But ah! it hardens all within, + And petrifies the feeling." + +Nor could this temporary miracle do more for Oliver Vyell than wake in +him a false springtide of the heart and delay by so long the revenge of +his past upon his present self. + + +Midway in the third week the weather broke. He had foreseen this, and +early one morning set forth upon Bayard, the mare following obediently +as a dog, along the downhill circuit to the village. There he would +leave them in stall at the Ferry Inn, to be fetched by his grooms. +Ruth walked some way beside him, telling off a list of purchases to be +made at the village store to replenish their household stock. + +She left him and turned back, under boughs too bare to hide the lowering +sky. She had gained the hut and he the village before the storm broke. +Indeed it gave him time to make his purchases and reach the Inn, where a +heavy mail-bag awaited him. He was served with bread, cheese, and beer +in the Inn parlour, and dealt with the letters then and there; answering +some, tearing up others, albeit still with a sense of bringing back his +habits of business to a world with which he had no concern. While he +wrote, always in haste, on the cheap paper the Inn supplied, the storm +broke and with such darkness that he pulled out his watch. It was yet +early afternoon. He called for candles and wrote on. + +The last letter, addressed to Batty Langton, Esquire, he superscribed +"_Most urgent_," and having sealed it, arose and shouldered his sack for +the homeward tramp. By this time the wind howled through the village +street, blowing squall upon squall of rain before it. It blew, too, +dead in his path; but he faced it cheerfully. + +Before he gained what should have been the shelter of the woods, the +gale had increased so that they gave less than the road had given. +The trees rocked above him; leaves and dead twigs beat on his face, and +at length the blast forced him almost to creep on all fours. It was +dark, too, beneath the swaying boughs. But uppermost in his mind was +fear for his love, lest the hut should have given way before the +tempest, and she be lying crushed beneath it. + +Still he fought his way. Darkness--the real darkness--was falling, and +he was yet a mile from the hut when in his path a figure arose from the +undergrowth where it had been crouching. + +"Ruth!" + +"Ah, you are safe! . . . I could not rest at home--" + +They took hands and forced their way against the wind. + +"The cabin?" + +"It stands, please God!" + +After much battling they spied the light shining through the louvers of +its closed shutter. The gale streamed down the valley as through a +funnel, but once past the angle of the cliff they found themselves +almost in a calm. He pushed the door open. + +On the hearth--the hearth of his building--a pile of logs burned +cheerfully. Over these the kettle hissed; and the firelight fell on +their bed, with its linen oversheet turned back and neatly folded. + +She entered and he closed the door behind her. She laughed as he pushed +its bolt. They were drenched to the skin, the pair. + +"This is best," said she with another soft and happy laugh. + +"This is best," he repeated after her. "Better even than in fair +weather." + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +HOME-COMING. + + +A week later they broke camp and set forth to climb to the head of the +pass. + +Behind it--so Sir Oliver had learnt from old Strongtharm--lay an almost +flat table-land, of pine-forest for the most part, through which for +maybe half a dozen miles their river ran roughly parallel with another +that came down from the north-west. At one point (the old fellow +declared) less than a mile divided their waters. + +"Seems," he said, "as if Nature all along intended 'em to jine, and +then, at the last moment, changed her mind." He explained the cause of +their severance--an outcropping ridge of rock, not above a mile in +length; but it served, deflecting the one stream to the southward, the +other to north of east, so that they reached the ocean a good twenty +leagues apart. + +He showed a map and told Sir Oliver further that at the narrowest point +between the two rivers there dwelt a couple of brothers, Dave and Andy +M'Lauchlin, with their households and long families, of whom all the +boys were expert log-drivers, like their fathers. They were likewise +expert boatmen, and for money, no doubt, if Sir Oliver desired, would +navigate the upper reaches of either stream for him. Of these reaches +the old man could tell little save that their currents ran moderately-- +"nothing out of the way." The M'Lauchlins sent all their timber down to +sea by the more northerly stream. "Our river 'd be the better by far, +three-fourths of its way, but--" with a jerk of his thumb--"the Gap, +yonder, makes it foolishness." + +Sir Oliver asked many questions, studying the map; and ended by +borrowing it. + + +He had it spread on his knee when Ruth came out of the cabin for the +last time, having said farewell to her household gods. + +"What are you reading?" she asked. + +"A map." He folded it away hastily. + +"And I am not to see it?" + +"Some day. Some day, if the owner will sell, you shall have it framed, +with our travels marked out upon it. But, just now, it holds a small +secret." + +She questioned him no further. "Come," she said, "reach your arm in at +the window and draw the bolt, and afterwards we will pull the shutter +and nail it. Are you going inside for a last look around?" + +He laughed. "Why? The knapsacks are here, ready." + +"Our home!" + +"I take the soul of it with me, taking you." + +It was prettily said. Yet perversely she remembered how he had once +spoken of Margaret Dance, saying, "Let the dead bury their dead." + +The sky, after six angry days--two sullen, four tempestuous--was clear +again and promised another stretch of fair weather. This was +important, for they counted on having to sleep a night in the open +before reaching the M'Lauchlins' camp. Old Strongtharm had told Sir +Oliver of a cave at the head of the pass and directed him how to find +it. Should the sky's promise prove false, they would descend back to +the hut. Snow was their one serious peril. + + +They carried but the barest necessaries; for although the worst of the +falls lay below and behind them, the upper part of the Gap was arduous +enough, and the more difficult for being unknown; also Sir Oliver had +old Strongtharm's assurance that the M'Lauchlins would furnish them with +all things requisite for voyaging by water. + +Sir Oliver climbed in silence. He was flinging a bridge, albeit a short +one, across the unknown, and the risk of it weighed on him. For himself +this would have counted nothing, but he was learning the lesson common +to all male animals whose mates for the first time travel beside them. +As for Ruth, it was wonderful--the course of the path once turned, the +small home left out of sight--how securely she breasted the upward path. +Her lover and she were as gods walking, treading the roof of the world. + +Through thickets they climbed, and by stairways beside the singing +falls. In a pool below one of these falls they surprised a great loon +that had resorted here to live solitary through his moulting-season. +He rose and winged away with a cry like an inhuman laugh; and they +recognised a sound which had often been borne down the gorge--once or +twice at night, to awake and puzzle them. + +They came to the uppermost fall a good hour before sunset, and after a +little search Sir Oliver found the cave. They could have pushed on, but +decided to sleep here: and they slept soundly, being in truth more weary +than their spirits, exhilarated in the high air, allowed them to guess. + +They might, as it turned out, by forcing the march, have found the +M'Lauchlins' settlement before dusk. For scarcely had they travelled +five miles next morning before they came on an outpost of it: a large +hut, half dwelling-house, half boat-shed. It stood in a clearing on the +left shore, and close by the water's edge was a young man, patching the +bottom of an upturned canoe. Two children--a boy and a girl--had +dropped their play to watch him. A flat-bottomed boat lay moored to the +bank, close by. + +The children, catching sight of our travellers, must have uttered some +exclamation; for the young man turned quickly, and after a brief look +called "Good-morning." There was a ford (he shouted) fifty yards +upstream; but no need to wade. Let them wait a minute and he would +fetch them. + +He laid down his tools, unmoored the flat-bottomed boat, and poled +across. On the way back he told them that he was Adam M'Lauchlin, son +of David. The little ones were children of his father by a second wife; +but he had seven brothers and sisters of his own. . . . Yes, their +settlement stood by the other river; at no great distance. "If you'll +hark, maybe you can hear the long saws at work. . . ." + +He led them to it, the small children bringing up the rear of the +procession. The _Z'm--Z'm_ of the saws grew loud in Ruth's ears before +crossing the ridge she spied the huts between the trees--a congregation +of ten or a dozen standing a little way back from a smooth-flowing +river. Between the huts and the river were many saw-pits, with men at +work. + +At young Adam's hail the men in view desisted, quite as though he had +sounded the dinner horn. Heads of others emerged from the pits. +Within a minute there was a small crowd gathered, of burly fellows +diffusing the fragrance of pine sawdust, all stamped in their degrees +with the M'Lauchlin family likeness, and all eager to know the +strangers' business. + +Sir Oliver explained that he wanted a boat and two strong guides, to +explore the upper waters. He would pay any price, in moderation. + +"Ay," said their spokesman. He wore a magnificent iron-grey beard +powdered with saw-dust; and he carried a gigantic pair of shoulders, but +rheumatism had contracted them to a permanent stoop. "Ay, I'm no +fearin' about the pay. You'll be the rich man, the Collector from +Boston." + +Ruth was startled. She had supposed herself to be travelling deep into +the wilderness. She had yet to learn that in the wilderness, where men +traffic in little else, they exchange gossip with incredible energy-- +talk it, in fact, all the time. In those early colonial days the +settlers overleapt and left behind them leagues of primeval forest, to +all appearance inviolate. But the solitude was no longer virgin. Where +foot of man had once parted the undergrowth the very breath of the wind +followed and threaded its way after him, bearing messages to and fro. + +"I'm no speirin'," said the oldster cautiously. "But though our lads +have never been so far, there's talk of a braw house buildin'." + +Here, somewhat hastily, Sir Oliver took him aside, and they spent twenty +minutes or so in converse together. Ruth waited. + +He came back and selected young Adam, with a cousin of his--a taciturn +youth, by name Jesse, son of Andrew--to be their boatman. Five or six +of the young men were evidently eager to be chosen; but none disputed +his choice. Rome, which reaches everywhere, reigned in the forest here; +its old law of family unquestioned and absolute. The two youths swung +off to pack and provision the canoe. An hour later they reported that +all was ready; and by three in the afternoon the voyagers were on their +way up-stream. + + +The voyage lasted four days and was seldom laborious; for the river ran +in long loops through the table-land, and with an easy current. +But here and there shallow runs of rock made stairways for it from one +level to another, and each of these miniature rapids compelled a +portage; so that towards the end of the second day the young men had +each a red shoulder spot chafed by the canoe's weight. + +They camped by night close beside the murmuring water, ate their supper +beside a fire of boughs, slept on piled leaves beneath a tent of canvas +stretched over a long ridge-pole. The two young men had a separate and +similar tent. + +For two days the forest hemmed them in so closely that although frost +had half-stripped the deciduous trees, the eye found few vistas save +along the river ahead. On either hand was drawn a continuous curtain of +mossed stems and boughs overlapping and interlacing their delicate +twigs. Scarcely a bird sang within the curtain; scarcely a woodland +sound broke in upon the monotonous plash of the paddles. Alder, birch, +maple, pine, spruce, and hemlock--the woods were a lifeless tapestry. +Ahead curved and stretched the waterway, rippled now and again by a +musk-rat crossing, swimming with its nose and no more above water. + +A little before noon on the third day they emerged from this forest upon +a wide track of burnt land; and certain hills of which the blue summits +had for some hours been visible above the tree-tops on their right, now +took shape from the base up, behind thin clumps of birch, poplar, and +spruce--all of them (but the spruce especially) ragged and stunted in +growth. For the rest this burnt land resembled a neglected pasture, +being carpeted for the most part with moss and blueberry. A mysterious +blight lay over all, and appeared to extend to the foot of the hills. + +All through the afternoon the chine of these hills closed the landscape; +purpled at times by passing clouds, at times lit up by sun-rays that +defined every bush and seam on the slopes. All through the afternoon +the folded gullies between the slopes unwound themselves interminably, +little by little, as the voyagers traced up the river, paddling almost +due southward, along its loops and meanders. + +But by nightfall they had turned the last spur of the range, and the +next morning opened to them a vastly different landscape: an undulating +country, wooded like a park, with hills indeed, but scattered ones to +the south and west, and behind the hills the faint purple dome of a +far-distant mountain, so faintly seen that at first Ruth mistook it for +a cloud. + +She could not tell afterwards--though she often asked herself the +question--at what point the landscape struck her as being strangely +familiar. Yet she was sure that the recognition came to her suddenly. +Sir Oliver since the morning's start had been indisposed to talk. +From time to time he drew out his map and consulted it. The M'Lauchlin +lads, on the other hand, seemed to be restless. During the halt for the +midday meal they drew aside together and Ruth heard them conversing in +eager whispers. + +Possibly this stirred some expectation in her, which passed into +surmise, into certainty. Late in the afternoon she drew in the paddle +she had been plying, laid it across the canoe, and called softly,-- + +"Oliver!" + +He turned. She was pointing to a hill now full in view ahead of them. + +"That cliff . . . you remember--the eagles?" + +He laughed as though the question amused him. + +"It is very like. Yes, certainly, it is very like. But wait until we +open the clump of trees yonder. . . ." + +They opened it, and her heart gave a leap. A moment before she had been +sure this was the very hill. His laugh had confirmed it. . . . +She remembered how, at the foot of it, just such a river as this looped +itself through the plain. . . . But, lo! in the opening gap, inch by +inch, a long building displayed itself: a mansion, gleaming white, with +a pillared front and pillared terraces, rising--terrace on terrace--from +the woodland, into which a cascade of water, spouting half-way down the +slope, plunged and was lost. + +She sat dumb. His eyes were upon her; and he laughed quietly. + +"It is yours--as you commanded. See!" + +He flung out a hand to the left. She beheld a clearing--an avenue, that +ran like a broad ribbon to the summit of a flat-topped rise. + +"You demanded sight of the ocean," he was saying, and his voice seemed +to lose itself in the beat of the churning paddles. "We cannot see it +from here; but from the house--_your_ house--you shall look on it every +day. Did you not bid me remove a mountain?" + + +For the rest of the way she sat as in a dream. One of the M'Lauchlin +lads had produced a cow-horn and was blowing it lustily. . . . +They came to shore by river-stairs of stone, where two servants in the +Vyell livery stood like statues awaiting them. + +It was falling dusk when Sir Oliver disembarked and gave her his hand. +The men-servants, who had bent to hold the canoe steady as she stepped +ashore, drew themselves erect and again touched foreheads to their lord +and lady. + +Still as in a dream, her arm resting within her lover's, she went up the +broad stairways from terrace to terrace. Above her the long facade was +lit with window after window blazing welcome. + +At the head of the perron, under the colonnaded portico, other tall +men-servants stood in waiting, mute, deferential. She passed between +their lines into a vast entrance hall, and there, almost as her foot +crossed its threshold, across the marbled floor little Miss Quiney came +running a-flutter, inarticulate, with reaching hands. + +Ruth drew back, almost with a cry. But before she could resist, Tatty's +arms were about her and Tatty's lips lifted, pressed against either +cheek. She suffered the embrace. + +"My darling Ruth!--at last!" Then with a laugh, "And in what strange +clothes! . . . But come--come and be arrayed!" She caught Ruth's cold +hand and led her towards the staircase. "Nay, never look about you so: +your eyes will not take in a tenth of all the wonders!" + + +Later, as an Indian gong sounded below, he came from his dressing-room +into the great bride-chamber where she stood, arrayed in satin, before +her mirror, hesitating as her fingers touched one after another of the +jewels scattered on the dressing-table under the waxen lights. Her maid +slipped away discreetly. + +"Well?" he asked. He was resplendent in a suit of sapphire velvet, with +cravat and ruffles of old Spanish lace. "Is my love content with +her home-coming?" + +She crossed her arms slowly. + +"You are good to me," she said. "You do me too great honour, my lord." + +He laughed, and catching up a necklace of diamonds from the +dressing-table, looped it across her throat, clasped it, leaned over her +shoulder and kissed her softly between the ear and the cheek's delicate +round. Their eyes met in the mirror. + +"I invited the Quiney," he said gaily, "to give you a feeling of home +among these strange faces. She will not dine with us, though, unless +you choose." + +"Let us be alone, to-night!" she pleaded. + +"So be it. . . . But you shiver: you are cold. No? Then weary, +perhaps--yes, and hungry. I've a backwoods hunger, for my part. +Let us go down and dine." + + + + +BOOK IV. + + + + +LADY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING. + + + + +Chapter I. + + +BATTY LANGTON, CHRONICLER. + + + +_From Batty Langton, Esquire, to the Hon. Horatio Walpole_. + + BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, + January 21st, 1748. + +. . . . . You ask me, my dear Sir, why I linger on year by year in this +land of Cherokees and Choctaws, as you put it, at the same time hinting +very delicately that now, with my poor old father in his grave and my +own youthful debts discharged, you see no enduring reason for this +exile. It is kind of you to be so solicitous: kinder still to profess +that you yet miss me. But that I am missed at White's is more than you +shall persuade me to believe. In an earlier letter, written when the +Gaming Act passed, you told me they were for nailing up an escutcheon to +mourn the death of play; they nailed up none for me. And I gather that +play has recovered, and Dick Edgcumbe holds my cards. I doubt if I +could endure to revisit St. James's--save by moonlight perhaps. +_Rappelez-moi_ to the waiters. They will remember me. + +But in good deed, dear Sir, what should I be doing at home among the +Malvern Hills upon a patrimony of 800 pounds?--for to that it has +dwindled. Can I hoe turnips, or poke a knowledgeable finger into the +flanks of beeves? I wonder if your literary explorations ever led you +across the furrow of an ancient ploughman who-- + + --on a May morning, on Malvern hills + +was weary of wandering and laid him down to sleep beside a brook--having +been chased thither betimes, no doubt, by a nagging bedfellow. +I have no wife, nor mean to take one, and find it more to my comfort to +sleep here by the River Charles and dream of Malvern, secure that I +shall wake to find myself detached from it by half a world. + +Yet your last letter touched me closely; for it happens that Sir O. V., +for love of whom rather than for any better reason I have kept this +exile, has taken to himself a Lady. That, you'll say, should be my +dismissal; and that I like her, as she appears willing to be friends +with me, gives me, you'll say again, no excuse to linger. Yet I do, and +shall. + +As for her history, Vyell picked her up in a God-forsaken fishing town, +some leagues up the coast; brought her home; placed her under +gouvernante and tutors; finally espoused her. Stay: finally he has +built a palace for her, "Eagles" by name, whither he forces all Boston +to pay its homage. For convenience of access to the goddess he has cut +a road twenty feet broad through the woodlands of her demesne. + + The palace in a woody vale they found, + High-raised, of stone-- + +or, to speak accurately, of stone and timber combined. Be pleased to +imagine a river very much like that of Richmond, but covered with grey +crags. "Fie," you will say, "the site is savage, then, like all else in +this New World?" My dear sir, you were never more mistaken. +Mr. Manley's young eye of genius fastened upon it at once, to adapt it +to a house and gardens in the Italian style. + +Have I mentioned this Mr. Manley in former letters? He is a young +gentleman of good Midland blood (his county, I believe, Bedfordshire), +with a moderate talent for drinking, a something more than talent for +living on his friends, and a positive genius for architecture. +He will have none of your new craze for Gothic. Palladio is his god, +albeit he allows that Palladio had feet of clay, and corrects him +boldly--though always, as he tells me, with help of his minor deities, +Vignola and the rest, who built the great villas around Rome. He has +studied in Italy, and tells me that at Florence he was much beholden to +your friend Mann, who, I dare swear, lost money by the acquaintance. + +Vyell, his present patron, takes him out and shows him the site. +"Italy!" exclaims the Youth of Genius. "Italy?" echoes Maecenas, +astonished. "We'll make it so," says the Youth. "These terraces, this +spouting water, these pines to serve us for cypresses!" "But, my good +sir, the House?" cries the impatient Vyell. "A fig for your house! +Any fool can design a house when the Almighty and an artist together +have once made the landscape for it. Grant me two years for the +gardens," he pleads. "You shall have ten months to complete landscape, +house, everything." "I shall need armies of workmen." "You shall have +them." The Youth groaned. "I shall have to be sober for ten months on +end!" "What of that?" says V. Lovers are unconscionable. + +Well, the Youth sits down to his plans, and at once orders begin to fly +across ocean to this port and that for the rarest marbles--_rosso +antico_ from Mount Taenarus, _verde antico_ from Thessally; with green +Carystian, likewise shipped from Corinth; Carrara, Veronese Orange, +Spanish _broccatello_, Derbyshire alabaster, black granite from Vyell's +Cornish estate, red and purple porphyries from high up the Nile. . . . +The Youth conjures up his gardens as by magic. Here you have a terrace +fenced with columns; below it a cascade pouring down a stairway of +circular basins--the hint of it borrowed from Frascati (from the Villa +Torlonia, if I remember); there an alley you'd swear was Boboli dipping +to rise across the river, on a stairway you'd swear as positively was +Val San Zibio. Yet all is congruous. The dog scouts the Villa d'Este +for a "toy-shop." + +The house at first disappoints one, being straight and simple to the +last degree. ("D----n me," says he, "what can you look for, in ten +months?") It is of two storeys, the windows of the upper storey loftier +by one-third than those beneath; and has for sole ornament a balustraded +parapet broken midway by an Ionic portico of twelve columns, with a +_loggia_ deeply recessed above its entrance door. To this portico a +flight of sixteen steps conducts you from the uppermost terrace. + +Such is Vyell's new pleasance of Eagles, Boston's latest wonder. I have +described it at this length because you profess to take more interest in +houses than in women; and also, to tell the truth, be cause I am shy of +describing Lady V. To call her roundly the loveliest creature I have +ever set eyes on, or am like to, is (you will say) no description, +though it may argue me in love with her. + +On my honour, no! or only as all others are in love--all the men, I +mean, and even some pro portion of the womankind. The rest agree to +call her "Lady Good-for-Nothing," upon a double rumour, of which one +half is sad truth, and the other (my life on it) false as hell. + +They have heard that when Vyell found her she was a serving-girl, +undergoing punishment (a whipping, to be precise) for some trumpery +offence against the Sabbath. Yes, my dear sir, this is true; as it is +true also that Vyell, like a knight-errant of old, offered to share her +punishment, and did indeed share it to the extent of sitting in the +stocks beside her. You'd have thought an honest mind might find food +for compassion in this, and even an excuse to believe the better of +human nature; but it merely scandalises these Puritan tabbies. +They fear Vyell for his wealth and title; and he, despising them, forces +them to visit her. + +Now for the falsehood. The clergyman who read the marriage ceremony for +V. somewhere in the backwoods (this, too, was his whim, and they have to +be content with it) is a low-bred trencher-chaplain, by name Silk. +He should have been unfrocked the next week, not for performing a +function apostolically derived, but for spreading a report--I wait to +fasten it on him--that before marriage she was no better than she should +be. I have earned better right than any other man to know Vyell, and I +know it to be calumny. But the wind blows, and the name +"Lady Good-for-Nothing" is a by-breath of it. + +Vyell guesses nothing of this. He has a masculine judgment and no small +degree of wit--though 'tis of a hard intellectual kind; but through +misprising his fellow creatures he has come to lack _flair_. His lady, +if she scent a taint on the wind wafted through her routs and +assemblies, no doubt sets it down to breathings upon her humble origin, +or (it may be) even to some leaking gossip of her foregone wrong. +(Women, my dear sir, are brutes to rend a wounded one of the herd.) She +can know nothing of the worse slander. + +She moves through her duties as hostess with a pretty well-bred grace, +and a childishness infinitely touching. Yet something more protects +her; a certain common sense, which now and then very nearly achieves +wit. For an instance--But yesterday a certain pompous lady lamented to +her in my hearing (and with intention, as it seemed to me, who am grown +suspicious), the rapid moral decay of Boston society. "Alas!" sighs my +heroine; "but what a comfort, ma'am, to think that neither of us belongs +to it!" Add to this that she has learning enough to equip ten +_precieuses_--and hides it: has read Plato and can quote her Virgil by +the page--but forbears. Yet all this while you have suspected me, no +doubt, of raving over a '_Belle Sauvage_, a Pocahontas. + +Well, I shall watch her progress. . . . I have become so nearly a part +of Vyell that I charge myself to stand for him and supply what he lacks. +He loves her; she loves him to doting; but I cannot see into their +future. + +Vyell, by the way, charges me to request your good offices with Mr. Mann +to procure him a couple of Tuscan vases. I know that your friend is +infinitely obliging to all who approach him through you: and this +request which my letter carries as a tag should have been its pretext, +as in fact it was its occasion. Adieu! my dear sir. + + Yours most sincerely, + + BAT. LANGTON. + + + +Chapter II. + + +SIR OLIVER SAILS. + + +Mr. Langton was right. Theologians, preaching mysteries, are +helpless before the logical mind until they abandon defence and +boldly attack their opponents' capital incapacity, saying, "Precisely +because you insist upon daylight, you miss discovering the stars." +The battle is a secular one, and that sentence contains the reason, +too, why it will never be ended in this world. But the theologians +may strengthen their conviction, if not their argument, by noting how +often the more delicate shades of human feeling will oppose +themselves to the logical mind as a mere wall of blindness. + +Oliver Vyell loved his bride as passionately as his nature, hardened +by his past, allowed him. To the women who envied her, to the +gossips and backbiters, he opposed a nescience inexpugnable, +unscalable as a wall of polished stone: but the mischief was, he +equally ignored her sensitiveness. + +Being sensitive, she understood the hostile shadows better than the +hard protecting fence. To noble natures enemies are often nearer +than friends, and more easily forgiven. + +But Mr. Langton was also right in guessing her ignorant of the +rumours set going by Silk, who, as yet, had whispered falsehoods +only. The worst rumour of all--the truth--was beyond his courage. + +Ruth loved her lord devoutly. To love him was so easy that it seemed +no repayment of her infinite debt. She desired some harder task; and +therefore, since he laid this upon her, she--who would have chosen a +solitude to be happy in--rejoiced to meet these envious ladies with +smiles, with a hundred small graces of hospitality; and still her +bliss swallowed up their rancour, scarcely tasting its gall. He +(they allowed) was the very pattern of a lover. + +He was also a model man of business. Even from his most flagrant +extravagances, as Batty Langton notes in another epistle, he usually +contrived to get back something like his money's worth. +He would lend money, or give it, where he chose: but to the man who +overreached him in a money bargain he could be implacable. Moreover, +though a hater of quarrels, he never neglected an enmity he had once +taken up, but treated it with no less exactitude than a business +account. + +Their happiness had endured a little more than three months when, one +morning, he entered Ruth's morning-room with a packet of letters in +his hand. He was frowning, not so much in wrath, as in distaste of +what he had to tell. + +"Dear," he said brusquely, bending to kiss her, "I have ill news. I +must go back to England, on business." + +"To England ?" she echoed. Her wrists were laid along the arms of +her chair, and, as she spoke, her fingers clutched sharply at the +padding. She was not conscious of it. She was aware only that +somehow, at the back of her happiness this shadow had always lurked; +and that England lay across the seas, at an immense distance. . . . + +He went on--his tone moody, but the words brief and distinct. +"For a few months, only; five or six, perhaps; with any luck, even +less. That infernal aunt of mine--" + +"Lady Caroline ?" She asked it less out of curiosity than as a +prompter gives a cue; for he had come to a full stop. She was +wondering how Lady Caroline could injure him, being so far +away. . . . + +He laughed savagely, yet--having broken his news, or the worst of +it--with something of relief. "She shall smart for it--if that +console you?" + +"Is it on my account?" + +"Only, as I guess, in so far as she accuses you of having played the +devil with her plan for marrying me up with my cousin Di'? If Di' +had been the last woman in the world. . . . But the old harridan +never spoke to me after the grooming I gave her that morning at +Natchett. 'Faith, and I did treat her to some plain talk!" he wound +up with another laugh. + +"But what harm can she do you?" + +He explained that his late uncle Sir Thomas had, in the closing years +of his life, shown unmistakable signs of brain-softening, and that a +symptom of his complaint had been his addiction to making a number of +wills--"two-thirds of 'em incoherent. Every two or three days he'd +compose a new one and send for Huskisson, his lawyer; and Huskisson, +after reading the rigmarole through, as solemn as a judge, would get +it solemnly witnessed and carry it off. He had three boxes full of +these lunacies when the old man died, and I'll wager he has not +destroyed 'em. Lawyers never destroy handwriting, however foolish. +It's against their principles." + +"But," said Ruth, musing. "I understood that he died of a jail +fever, caught at the Assizes, where he was serving on--what do you +call it?" + +"The Grand Jury." + +"Well, how could he be serving on a Grand Jury if his head was +affected as you say?" + +"You don't know England," he assured her. "Ten to one as a County +magnate he stickled for it, and the High Sheriff put him on the panel +to keep him amused." + +"But a Grand Jury deals sometimes with matters of life and death, +does it not?" + +"Often, but only in the first instance. It finds a true bill +usually, and sends the cause down to be tried by judge and jury, who +dispose of it. Actually the incompetence of a grand juror or two +doesn't count, if the scandal be not too glaring. . . . But I see +your drift. It will be a point for the other side, no matter how +lunatic the document, that after perpetrating it he was still thought +capable by the High Sheriff of his county." + +"I do not know that the point struck me. I was wondering--" Here +she broke off. The thought, in fact, uppermost in her mind was that +he had not suggested her voyaging to England with him. + +"It _is_ a point, anyway," he persisted. "But it won't stand against +Huskisson's documentary proof of lunacy. . . . You see, the greater +part of the property was entailed, and the poor old fool couldn't +touch it. But there's an unentailed estate in Devonshire--Downton by +name--worth about two thousand a year. By a will made in '41, when +his mind was admittedly sound, he left it to me with a charge upon it +of five hundred for Lady Caroline. By a second, made three years +later and duly witnessed, he left her Downton for her life; and with +that I chose not to quarrel, though I could have brought evidence +that he was unfit to make any will. I agreed with the infernal woman +to let things stand on that. But now, being at daggers drawn with +me, she digs up (if you please) a will made in '46 and apparently +sane in wording, by which, without any provision for the heir-at-law, +the whole bagful, real and personal, goes to her, to be used by her +and willed away, as she pleases; this, although she well knows I can +prove Sir Thomas to have been a blethering idiot at the time." + +"Is it worth while?" + +"Worth while?" he echoed, as if doubtful that she had understood. +"The woman is doing it out of spite, of course. Very likely she is +fool enough to think that, fixed here with the Atlantic between us, I +shall give her the double gratification of annoying me and letting +her win by default." + +"It is a large sum," she mused. + +"Of course it is," he agreed sharply. "An estate yielding two +thousand pounds interest. You would not suggest my letting it go, I +should hope!" + +"Certainly not, if you cannot afford it." + +"If it were a twentieth part of the sum, I'd not be jockeyed out of +it." He laughed harshly. "As men go, I am well-to-do: but, dear, has +it never occurred to you to wonder what this place and its household +cost me?" + +She answered with a small wry smile. "Often it has occurred to me. +Often I tell myself that I am wicked to accept, as you are foolish +perhaps to give, all this luxury." + +"You adorn it. . . . Dear, do not misunderstand me. All the offering +I can bring is too little for my love." + +"I know," she murmured, looking up at him with moist eyes. "I know; +and yet--" + +"I meant only that you are not used to handling money or calculating +it--as why should you be?" + +"If my lord will only try me!" + +"Hey?" + +"Of what use is a wife if she may not contrive for her husband's +good--take thought for his household? Ah, my dear, these cares are +half a woman's happiness! . . . I might make mistakes. Nay, 'tis +certain. I would the house were smaller: in a sense I would that +your wealth were smaller--it would frighten me less. But something +tells me that, though frightened, I should not fail you." + +He stared down at her, pulling his lip moodily. "I was thinking," +said he, "to ask Langton to be my steward. Would you really choose +to be cumbered with all this business?" + +She held her breath for a moment; for his question meant that he had +no design to take her with him. Her face paled a little, but she +answered steadily. + +"It will at least fill my empty hours. . . . Better, dear--it will +keep you before me in all the day's duties; since, though I miss you, +all day long I shall be learning to be a good wife." + +As she said it her hand went up to her side beneath her left breast, +as something fluttered there, soft as a bird's wing stirring. +It fluttered for a moment under her palm, then ceased. The room had +grown strangely still. . . . Yet he was speaking. + +He was saying--"I'll teach these good people who's Head of the +Family!" + +Ah, yes--"the Family!" Should she tell him? . . . She bethought her +of Mrs. Harry's sudden giddiness in the waggon. Mrs. Harry +was now the mother of a lusty boy--Sir Oliver's heir, and the +Family's prospective Head. . . . Should she tell him? . . . + +He stooped and kissed her. "Love, you are pale. I have broken this +news too roughly." + +She faltered. "When must you start?" + +"In three days. That's as soon as the _Maryland_ can take in the +rest of her cargo and clear the customs." + +"They will be busy days for you." + +"Desperately." + +"Yet you must spare me a part of one, and teach me to keep accounts," +said she, and smiled bravely albeit her face was wan. + + + +Chapter III. + + +MISCALCULATING WRATH. + + +Mr. Langton sat in his private apartment by Boston Quay trying the +balance of a malacca cane. + +Sir Oliver had sailed a week ago. Mr. Langton had walked down to the +ship with him and taken his farewell instructions. + +"By the way," said Sir Oliver, "I want you to make occasion to visit +Eagles now and again, and pay your respects. I shall write to you as +well as to her; and the pair of you can exchange news from your +letters. She likes you." + +"I hope so," answered Langton, "because 'tis an open secret that I +adore her." + +Sir Oliver smiled, a trifle ruefully. "Then you'll understand how it +hits a man to leave her. Maybe--for I had meant to make you +paymaster in my absence--you'll also forgive me for having changed my +mind?" + +"I'd have called you a damned fool if you hadn't," said Langton +equably. "She's your wife, hang it all: and I'll lay you five pounds +you'll return to find her with hair dishevelled over your monstrous +careless bookkeeping. My dear Noll, a woman--a good woman--is never +completely happy till convinced that she, and only she, has saved the +man she loves from ruin; and, what's more, she's a fool if she can't +prove it." + +"Nevertheless she's a beginner; and I'll be glad of your promise to +run over from time to time. A question or two will soon discover if +things are running on an even keel." + +"I shall attempt no method so coarse," Langton assured him. "I don't +want to be ordered out of the house--must I repeat that I adore her? +It may be news to you that she repays my attachment with a certain +respect. . . . Should she find herself in any difficulty--and she +will not--I shall be sent for and consulted. In any event, fond man, +you may count on my calling." + +As they shook hands Sir Oliver asked, "Don't you envy me, Batty?" + +"Constantly and in everything," answered Langton; "though--ass that I +am--I have rather prided myself on concealing it." + +"I mean, don't you wish that you, and not I, were sailing for +England? For that matter, though, there's nothing prevents you." + +"Oh yes--there is." + +"What, then?" + +"Use and wont, if you will; indolence, if you choose; affection for +you, Noll, if you prefer it." + +"That had been an excellent reason for coming with me." + +"It may be a better one for staying. . . . Well, as you walk up St. +James's, give it my regards." + + +"For so fine an intelligence Noll can be infernally crass at times," +muttered Mr. Langton to himself as he walked back to his lodgings. + +He kept his promise and rode over to Eagles ten days later, to pay +Ruth a visit. He found her astonishingly cheerful. The sum left by +Sir Oliver for her stewardship had scared her at first. It scared +her worse to discover how the heap began to drain away as through a +sieve. But slowly she saw her way to stop some of the holes in that +sieve. He had calculated her expenses, taking for basis the accounts +of the past few months; and in the matter of entertaining, for +example, she would save vast sums. . . . She foresaw herself a miser +almost, to earn his praise. + +"_--Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. +The heart of her husband shall safely trust in her, so that he shall +have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the +days of his life_." + +"_She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. +She is like the merchants's ships; she bringeth her food from afar. +She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her +household. . . . She considereth a field and buyeth it. . . . +She looketh well into the ways of her household_." + +"_Her children rise up, and call her blessed. . . ._" Her children? +But she had let him go, after all, without telling her secret. + + +Mr. Langton sat and balanced a malacca cane in his hand. When his +man announced the Reverend Mr. Silk, he laid it down carefully on the +floor beside him. + +"Show Mr. Silk up, if you please." + +Mr. Silk entered with an affable smile. "Ah, good-morning, Mr. +Langton!" said he, depositing his hat on the table and pulling off a +pair of thick woollen gloves. "I am prompt on your call, eh? +But this cold weather invites a man to walk briskly. Not to +mention," he added, with an effort at facetiousness, "that when Mr. +Langton sends for a clergyman his need is presumably urgent." + +"It is," said Mr. Langton, seemingly blind to the hand he proferred. +"Would you, before taking a seat, oblige me by throwing a log on the +fire? . . . Thank you--the weather is raw, as you say." + +"Urgent? But not serious, I hope?" + +"Both. Sit down, please. . . . I am, as you know, a particular +friend of Sir Oliver Vyell's." + +"Say, rather, his best." Mr. Silk bowed and smiled. + +"Possibly. At all events so close a friend that, being absent, he +gives me the right to resent any dishonouring suspicion that touches +him--or touches his lady. It comes to the same thing." + +Mr. Silk cocked his head sideways, like a bird considering a worm. +"Does it?" he queried, after a slight pause. + +"Certainly. A rumour is current through Boston, touching Lady +Vyell's virtue; or, at least, her conduct before marriage." + +"'Tis a censorious world, Mr. Langton." + +"Maybe; but let us avoid generalities, Mr. Silk. What grounds have +you for imputing this misconduct to Lady Vyell?" + +"Me, sir?" cried Mr. Silk, startled out of his grammar. + +"You, sir." Mr. Langton arose lazily, and stepping to the door, +turned the key; then returning to the hearth, in leisurely manner +turned back his cuff's. "I have traced the slander to you, and hold +the proofs. Perhaps you had best stand up and recant it before you +take your hiding. But, whether or no, I am going to hide you," he +promised, with his engaging smile. Stooping swiftly he caught up the +malacca. Mr. Silk sprang to his feet and snatched at the chair, +dodging sideways. + +"Strike as you please," he snarled; "Ruth Josselin is a--" But +before the word could out Batty Langton's first blow beat down his +guard. The second fell across his exposed shoulders, the third +stunningly on the nape of his neck. The fourth--a back-hander-- +welted him full in the face, and the wretched man sank screaming for +pity. + +Batty Langton had no pity. "Stand up, you hound!" he commanded. +The command was absurd, and he laughed savagely, tickled by its +absurdity even in his fury, while he smote again and again. +He showered blows until, between blow and blow, he caught his breath +and panted. Mr. Silk's screams had sunk to blubbings and whimpers. +Between the strokes he heard them. + +His valet was knocking timorously on the door. "All right!" called +Langton, lifting his cane and lowering it slowly--for his victim lay +still. He stooped to drag aside the arm covering the huddled face. +As he did so, Mr. Silk snarled again, raised his head and bit +blindly, fastening his teeth in the flesh of the left hand. Langton +wrenched free and, as the man scrambled to his feet, dealt him with +the same hand a smashing blow on the mouth--a blow that sent him +reeling, to overbalance and pitch backward to the floor again across +an overturned chair. + +Somehow the pleasure of getting in that blow restored--literally at a +stroke--Langton's good temper. He laughed and tossed the cane into a +corner. + +"You may stand up now," said he sweetly. "You are not going to be +beaten any more." + +Mr. Silk stood up. His mouth trickled blood, and he nursed his right +wrist, where the cane had smitten across the bone. Langton stepped +to the door and, unlocking it, admitted his trembling valet. + +"My good fool," he said, "didn't I call to you not to be alarmed? +Mr. Silk, here, has been seized with a--a kind of epileptic fit. +Help him downstairs and call a chair for him. Don't stare; he will +not bite again for a very long time." + + +But in this Mr. Langton was mistaken. + +He took the precaution of cauterising his bitten hand; and before +retiring to rest that night contemplated it grimly, holding it out to +the warmth of his bachelor fire. It was bandaged; but above the edge +of the bandage his knuckles bore evidence how they had retaliated +upon Mr. Silk's teeth. + +He eyed these abrasions for a while and ended with a soft complacent +laugh. "Queer, how little removed we are, after all, from the +natural savage!" he murmured. "Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to +introduce to your notice Batty Langton, Esquire, a child of nature-- +not perhaps of the best period--still using his naked fists and for a +woman--primitive cause of quarrel. And didn't he enjoy it, by +George!" + +He laughed again softly. But, could he have foreseen, he had been +willing rather to cut the hand off for its day's work. + + + +Chapter IV. + + +THE TERRACE. + + +Ruth was happy. To-day, and for a whole week to come, she was +determined to be purely happy, blithe as the spring sunshine upon the +terrace. For a week she would, like Walton's milkmaid, cast away +care and refuse to load her mind with any fears of many things that +will never be. Her spirit sang birdlike within her. And the +reason?--that the _Venus_ had arrived in harbour, with Dicky on +board. + +Peace had been signed, or was on the point to be signed, and in the +North Atlantic waters His Majesty's captains of frigates could make +a holiday of duty. Captain Harry used his holiday to sail up for +Boston, standing in for Carolina on his way and fetching off his +wife and his firstborn--a bouncing boy. It was time, they agreed, +to pay their ceremonial visit to Sir Oliver and his bride; high +time also for Dicky to return and embrace his father. + +Sir Oliver had written of his approaching marriage. "Well, dear," +was Mrs. Harry's comment, "'twas always certain he would marry. As +for Ruth Josselin, she is an amazingly beautiful girl and I believe +her to be good. So there's no more to be said but to wish 'em joy." + +Captain Harry kissed his wife. "Glad you take it so, Sally. I was +half afraid--for of course there _was_ the chance, you know--" + +"I'm not a goose, I hope, to cry for the moon!" + +"Is that the way of geese?" he asked, and they both laughed. + +A second letter had come to them from Eagles, telling them of his +happiness, and franking a note in which Ruth prettily acknowledged +Mrs. Harry's congratulations. + +A third had been despatched; a hurried one, announcing his departure +for England. Before this reached Carolina, however, the _Venus_ had +sailed, and Dicky rushed home to find his father gone. + +But a message came down to Boston Quay, with the great coach for Mrs. +Vyell, and the baggage and saddle-horses for the gentlemen. There +were three saddle-horses, for Ruth added an invitation for +Mr. Hanmer, "if the discipline of the ship would allow." + +"She always was the thoughtfullest!" cried Dicky. "Why, sir, to be +sure you must come too. . . . We'll go shooting. Is it too late for +partridge? . . . One forgets the time of year, down in the islands." + +Strangely enough Mr. Hanmer, so shy by habit, offered but a slight +resistance. + + +It was Dicky who, as Ruth sped to him with a happy little cry, hung +on his heel a moment and blushed violently. She took him in her +arms, exclaiming at his growth. + +"Why--look, Tatty--'tis a man! And is that what he means?--Ah, +Dicky, don't say you're too tall to kiss your old playmate." + +Then, holding him a little away and still observing his confusion, +she remembered his absurd boyish love for her and how he had +confessed it. Well, she must put him at his ease. . . . She turned +laughingly to welcome the others, and now for a moment she too +flushed rosy-red as she shook hands with Mr. Hanmer. She could not +have told why; but perhaps it was that instead of returning her +smile, his eyes rested on her face gravely, intently, as though +unable to drag themselves away. + +Captain Harry and his wife marvelled, as well they might, at the +house and its wonders. Sir Oliver had chosen to take his meals +French fashion and at French hours; and Ruth apologised for having +kept up the custom. Captain Harry, after protesting against so +ungodly a practice, admitted that his ride had hungered him, and at +_dejeuner_ proved it not only upon the courses but upon the cold +meats on the side-table. + +"You must have a jewel of a housekeeper, my dear!" Mrs. Harry had +been taking in every detail of the ordered service. "'Housekeeper,' +do I say? 'Major-domo'--you'll forgive me--" + +Ruth swept her a bow. "I take the compliment." + +"And she deserves it," added Miss Quiney. + +"What? You don't tell me you manage it all yourself? . . . This +palace of a house!" + +"Already you are making it feel less empty to me. Yes, alone I do +it; but if you wish to praise me, you should see my accounts. _They_ +are my real pride. But no, they are too holy to be shown!" + +They sat later--the gentlemen by their wine--on the stone terrace +overlooking the wide champaign. + +"But," said Ruth, for she observed that the boy was restless, "I must +leave Tatty to play hostess while I take a scamper with Dick. +There's a pool below here, Dicky, with oh, such trout!" + +Dicky was on his feet in a trice. "Rods?" + +"Rods, if you will. But there are the stables, too, to be seen; and +the gunroom--" + +"Stables? Gunroom?--Oh, come along!--the day is too short!" Here +Dicky paused. "But would you like to come too, sir?" he asked, +addressing Mr. Hanmer. + +Mrs. Harry laughed. "Those two," she told Ruth, "are like master and +dog, and one never can be quite sure which is which." + +"My dear boy," said Mr. Hanmer, "you must surely see that Lady Vyell +wants you all to herself. Yet I dare say the captain and I will be +strolling around to the stables before long." + +"Ay, when this decanter is done," agreed Captain Harry. + + +"That was rather pretty of you," said Ruth, as she and the boy went +down the terrace stairs together. + +"What?--asking old Hanmer to come with us? . . . Oh, but he's the +best in the world, and, what's more, never speaks out of his turn. +He has a tremendous opinion of you, too." + +"Indeed?" + +"Worships the very ground you tread on." + +Ruth laughed. "Were those his words?" + +Dicky laughed too. "Likely they would be! Fancy old Han talking like +a sick schoolgirl! I made the words up to please you: but it's the +truth, all the same." + +They reached the pool; and the boy, after ten minutes spent in +discovering the biggest monster among the trout and attempting to +tickle him with a twig, fell to prodding the turfed brink +thoughtfully. + +"We talked a deal about you, first-along," he blurted at length. "I +fancy old Han guessed that I was--was--well, fond of you and all that +sort of thing." + +"Dear Dicky!" + +"Boys are terrible softies at this age," my young master admitted. +"And, after all, it was rather a knockdown, you know, when papa's +letter came with the news." + +"But we're friends, eh?--you and I--just as before?" + +"Oh, of course--only you might have told. . . . And I've brought you +a parrot. Remember the parrots in that old fellow's shop in Port +Nassau?" + +She led him to talk of his sea adventures, of the ship, of the West +Indies among which they had been cruising; and as they wandered +back from terrace to terrace he poured out a stream of boyish +gossip about his shipmates, from Captain Vyell down to the cook's +dog. Half of it was Hebrew to her; but in every sentence of it, and +in the gay, eager voice, she read that the child had unerringly +found his vocation; that the sea lent him back to the shore for a +romp and a holiday, but that to the sea he belonged. + +"There's one thing against shipboard though." He had come to a halt, +head aslant, and said it softly, eyeing a tree some thirty yards +distant. + +"What?" + +"No stones lying about." Picking up one, he launched it at a +nuthatch that clung pecking at the moss on the bark. "Hit him, by +George! Come--" + +He ran and she raced after him for a few paces, but stopped half-way, +with her hand to her side. The nuthatch was not hit after all, but +had bobbed away into the green gloom. + +"Tell you what--you can't run as you used," he said critically. + +"No? . . ." She was wondering at the mysterious life a-flutter in +her side--that it should be his brother. + +"Not half. I'll have to get you into training. . . . Now show me the +stables, please." + +They were retracing their steps when along a green alley they saw Mr. +Hanmer coming down to meet them. He was alone, and his face, always +grave, seemed to Ruth graver than ever. + +"Dicky!" said he. "Service, if you please." + +"Ay, sir!" Dicky's small person stiffened at once, and Dicky's hand +went up to the salute. + +"Wait here, please. I wish a word in private with Lady Vyell--if you +will forgive me, ma'am?" + +"Why to be sure, sir," she answered, wondering. As he turned, she +walked on with him. After some fifty paces she confronted him under +the pale-green dappled shadows of the alley. + +"Something has happened? Is it serious?" + +"Yes." + +Looking straight before him, as they resumed their walk, he told her; +in brief words that seemed, as he jerked them out, to be pumped from +him; that made no single coherent sentence, and yet were concise as a +despatch. + +This in substance was Mr. Hanmer's report:-- + +They had remained on the terrace, seated, as she had left them-- +Captain and Mrs. Harry, Miss Quiney and he. The Captain was talking. +. . . A servant brought word that two ladies--Mr. Hanmer could not +recall their names--had called from Boston and desired to see Mrs. +Vyell. "Surely," protested Mrs. Harry, "they must mean Lady Vyell?" +The servant was positive: Mrs. Captain Vyell had been the name. +"They are anxious to pay their respects," suggested Miss Quiney. +"Anxious indeed! Why we landed but a few hours since. They must +have galloped." Miss Quiney was sent to offer them refreshment and +discover their business. + +Miss Quiney goes off on her errand. Minutes elapse. After many +minutes the servant reappears. "Miss Quiney requests Mrs. Harry's +attendance." Mrs. Harry goes. + +"Women are queer cattle," says Captain Harry sententiously, and +talks on. By-and-by the servant appears yet again. Mr. Hanmer is +sent for. "Why, 'tis like a story I've read somewhere, about a +family sent one by one to stop a tap running," says Captain Harry. +"But I'll say this for the women--I'm always the last they bother." + +Following the servant, Mr. Hanmer--so runs his report--enters the +great drawing-room to find Miss Quiney stretched on the sofa, her +face buried in cushions, and Mrs. Harry standing erect and +confronting two ladies of forbidding aspect. + +"In brief," concluded Mr. Hanmer, "she sent me for you." + +"To confront them with her? I wonder what their business can +be. . . ." With a glance at his side face she added, "I think you +have not told me all." + +"No," he confessed haltingly; "that's true enough. In--in fact +Mrs. Harry first employed me to show them to the door." + +"And--on the way?" + +"Honoured madam--" + +"They said--what?--quoting whom?" + +"A Mr. Silk. But again--ma'am, I am awkward at lying. I cannot +manage it." + +"I like you the better for it." + +"I did not believe--" + +"Yet you might have believed. . . . And suppose that it were true, +sir?" + +He shook visibly. "I pray God to protect you," he managed to +stammer. + +Her face was white, but she answered him steadily. "I believe you to +be a good man. . . . I will go to them. Where is Dicky?" +She glanced back along the alley. + +"Dicky will stand where I have told him to stand: for hours unless I +release him." + +"Is that your naval code? And can a mere child stand by it so +proudly? Oh," cried she, fixing on him a look he remembered all his +days, "would to God I had been born a man!" + + +Yet fearlessly as any man she entered the great drawing-room. Miss +Quiney still lay collapsed on her sofa. Mrs. Harry bent over her, +but faced about. + +"Mr. Hanmer managed, then, to discover you? Two women have called. +. . . I thought it better, their errand being what it was, to show +them out." + +"I can guess it, perhaps," Ruth caught her up with a wan smile. +"They managed to talk with him before he gave them their dismissal." + +"Forgive me. I had not thought them capable--" + +"There is nothing to forgive," Ruth assured her. "They probably told +the truth, and the fault is mine." + +Miss Quiney, incredulous, slowly raised her face from the cushions +and stared. + +"Yes," repeated Ruth, "the fault is entirely mine." + + +"But--but," stammered Mrs. Harry. Ruth had turned away towards the +window, and the honest wife stared after her, against the light. +"But he will make it all right when he returns." She started, of a +sudden. Cunningly as Ruth had dressed herself, Mrs. Harry's eyes +guessed the truth. "You have written to him?" + +"No." + +"He guesses, at least?" + +"No." + +"Then you are writing to him? There is enough time." + +"No." + +Their eyes met. Ruth's asked, "And if I do not, will you?" Mrs. +Harry's met them for a few seconds and were abased. + +No words passed between these two. "And as for my Tatty," said Ruth +lightly, stepping to the sofa, "she is not to write. I command her." + + + +Chapter V. + + +A PROLOGUE TO NOTHING. + + +Sir Oliver wrote cheerfully. His lawsuit was prospering; his prompt +invasion of the field had disconcerted Lady Caroline and her +advisers. He had discovered fresh evidence of the late Sir Thomas's +insanity. His own lawyers were sanguine. They assured him that, at +the worst, the Courts would set aside the '46 will, and fall back for +a compromise on that of '44, which gave the woman a life-interest +only in the Downton estates. But the case would not be taken this +side of the Long Vacation. . . . (It was certain, then, that he could +not return in time.) + +He had visited Bath and spent some weeks with his mother. He devoted +a page or two to criticism of that fashionable city. It was clear he +had picked up many threads of his younger days; had renewed old +acquaintances and made a hundred new ones. Play, he wrote, was a +craze in England; the stakes frightened a home-comer from New +England. For his part, he gamed but moderately. + +"As for the women, you have spoilt me for them. I see none--not one, +dearest--who can hold a taper to you. Their artifices disgust me; +and I watch them, telling myself that my Ruth has only to enter their +balls and assemblies to triumph--nay, to eclipse them totally. . . . +And this reminds me to say that I have spoken with my mother. +She had heard, of course, from more than one. Lady Caroline's +account had been merely coarse and spiteful; but by that lady's later +conduct she was already prepared to discount it. The pair +encountered in London, at my Lady Newcastle's; and my mother (who has +spirit) refused her bow. Diana, to her credit, appears to have done +you more justice; and Mrs. Harry writes reams in your praise. +To be sure my mother, not knowing Mrs. Harry, distrusts her judgment +for a Colonial's; but I vow she is the soundest of women. . . . +In short, dear Ruth, we have only to regularise things and we are +forgiven. The good soul dotes on me, and imagines she has but a few +years left to live. This softens her. . . . + +"There is a rumour--credit it, if you can!--that my Aunt Caroline +intends to espouse a Mr. Adam Rouffignac, a foreigner and a wine +merchant; I suppose (since he is reputed rich) to arm herself with +money to pay her lawyers. What _his_ object can be, poor man, I am +unable to conjecture. It is a strange world. While her ugly mother +mates at the age of fifty, Diana--who started with all the advantages +of looks--withers upon the maiden thorn. . . ." + +His letters, every one, concluded with protests of affection. +She rejoiced in them. But it was now certain that he could not +return in time. + + +At length, as her day drew near, she wrote to him, conceiving this to +be her duty. She knew that he would take a blow from what she had to +tell, and covered it up cleverly, lightly covering all her own dread. +She hoped the child would be a boy. ("But why do I hope it?" she +asked herself as she penned the words, and thought of Dicky.) + + +She said nothing of Mr. Silk's treachery; nothing of her ostracism. +This indeed, during the later months, she recognised for the blessing +it was. + + +Towards the end she felt a strange longing to have her mother near, +close at hand, for her lying-in. The poor silly soul could not travel +alone. . . . Ruth considered this and hit on the happy inspiration of +inviting Mrs. Strongtharm to bring her. Tatty was useless, and among +the few women who had been kind Mrs. Strongtharm had been the +kindest. + +Ruth sat down and penned a letter; and Mrs. Strongtharm, unable to +write, responded valiantly. She arrived in a cart, with Mrs. +Josselin at her side; and straightway alighting and neglecting Mrs. +Josselin, sailed into a seventh heaven of womanly fuss. She examined +the baby-clothes critically. + +"Made with your own pretty hands--and with all this mort o' servants +tumblin' over one another to help ye. But 'tis nat'ral. . . . +It came to nothing with me, but I know. And expectin' a boy o' +course. . . . La! ye blushin' one, don't I know the way of it!" + + +When Ruth's travail came on her the three were gathered by +candle-light in Sir Oliver's dressing-room. Beyond the door, +attended by her maid and a man-midwife, Ruth shut her teeth upon her +throes. So the prologue opens. + + PROLOGUE. + +_Mrs. Josselin sits in an armchair, regarding the pattern of the +carpet with a silly air of self-importance; Mrs. Strongtharm in a +chair opposite. By the window Miss Quiney, pulling at her knuckles, +stares out through the dark panes. A clock strikes_. + +_Miss Quiney (with a nervous start)_. Four o'clock . . . +nine hours. . . . + +_Mrs. Strongtharm._ More. The pains took her soon after six. . . . +When her bell rang I looked at the clock. I remember. + +_Miss Quiney_. My poor Ruth. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. Eh? The first, o' course. . . . But a long +labour's often the best. + +_Miss Quiney_. There has not been a sound for hours. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. She's brave. They say, too, that a man-child, +if he's a real strong one, will wait for daybreak; but that's old +women's notions, I shouldn't wonder. + +_Miss Quiney_. A man-child? You think it will be? + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. (She exchanges a glance with Mrs. Josselin, who +has looked up suddenly and nods.) Certain. + +_Mrs. Josselin_. Certain, certain! I wonder, now, what they'll call +him! After Sir Oliver, perhaps. Her own father's name was Michael. +In my own family--that's the Pocock's--the men were mostly Williams +and Georges. Called after the Kings of England. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm (yawns)_. Oliver Cromwell was as good as any king, +and better. Leastways my mar says so. For my part, I don't bother +my head wi' these old matters. + +_Miss Quiney (tentatively)_. Do you know, I was half hoping it would +be a girl, just like my darling. _(To herself)_ God forgive me, when +I think-- + +_Mrs. Strongtharm (interrupting the thought)_. _She_ won't be hoping +for a girl. You don't understand these things, beggin' your pardon, +ma'am. + +_Miss Quiney (meekly)_. No. + +_Mrs. Josselin_. You don't neither of you understand. How should +you? + +_Mrs. Strongtharm (stung)_. I understand as well as a fool, I should +hope! _(She turns to Miss Quiney.)_ 'Twas a nat'ral wish in ye, +ma'am, that such a piece o' loveliness should bear just such another. +But wait a while; they're young and there's time. . . . My lady wants +a boy first, like every true woman that loves her lord. +There's pride an' wonder in it. All her life belike she's felt +herself weak an' shivered to think of battles, and now, lo an' +behold, she's the very gates o' strength with an army marchin' forth +to conquer the world. Ha'n't ye never caught your breath an' felt +the tears swellin' when ye saw a regiment swing up the street? + +_Miss Quiney_. Ah! . . . Is it like that? + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. It's like all that, an' more. . . . An' though +I've wet my pillow afore now with envy of it, I thank the Lord for +givin' a barren woman the knowledge. + + _A pause_. + +_Mrs. Josselin (with a silly laugh)_. What wonderful patterns they +make in the carpets nowadays! Look at this one, now--runnin' in and +out so that the eye can't hardly follow it; and all for my lord's +dressing-room! Cost a hundred pound, I shouldn't wonder. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. T'cht! + +_Mrs. Josselin_. He must be amazing fond of her. Fancy, my Ruth! + . . . It's a pity he's not home, to take the child. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. Men at these times are best out o' the way. + +_Mrs. Josselin_. When my first was born, Michael--that's my +husband--stayed home from sea o' purpose to take it. My first was a +girl. No, not Ruth; Ruth was born after my man died, and I had her +christened Ruth because some one told me it stood for "sorrow." +I had three before Ruth--a girl an' two boys, an' buried them all. + +_Miss Quiney (listening)_. Hush! + +_Mrs. Josselin (not hearing, immersed in her own mental flow)_. +If you call a child by a sorrowful name it's apt to ward off the +ill-luck. Look at Ruth now--christened in sorrow an' married, after +all, to the richest in the land! + +_Miss Quiney (in desperation)_. Oh, hush! hush! + +_A low moan comes from the next room. The women sit silent, their +faces white in the dawn that now comes stealing in at the window, +conquering the candle-light by little and little_. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm_. I thought I heard a child's cry. . . . They cry +at once. + +_Miss Quiney_. Ah? I fancied it, too--a feeble one. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm (rising after a long pause)_. Something is +wrong. . . . + +_As she goes to listen at the door, it opens, and the man-midwife +enters. His face is grave_. + +_Mrs. Strongtharm and Miss Quiney ask him together, under their +breath_--Well? + +_He answers:_ It is well. We have saved her life, I trust. + +--And the child? + +--A boy. It lived less than a minute. . . . Yet a shapely +child. . . . + +_Miss Quiney clasps her hands. Shall she, within her breast, thank +God? She cannot. She hears the voice saying_,-- + +A very shapely child. . . . But the labour was difficult. There was +some pressure on the brain, some lesion. + +They would have denied Ruth sight of the poor little body, but she +stretched out her arms for it and insisted. Then as she held it, +flesh of her flesh, to her breast and felt it cold, she--she, whose +courage had bred wonder in them, even awe--she who had smiled between +her pangs, murmuring pretty thanks--wailed low, and, burying her +face, lay still. + + + +Chapter VI. + + +CHILDLESS MOTHER. + + +In the sad and cheated days that followed, she, with the milk of +motherhood wasting in her, saw with new eyes--saw many things +heretofore hidden from her. + +She did not believe in any scriptural God. But she believed--she +could not help believing--in an awful Justice overarching all human +life with its law, as it overarched the very stars in heaven. +And this law she believed to rest in goodness, accessible to the pure +conscience, but stern against the transgressor. + +Because she believed this, she had felt that the marriage rite, with +such an one as Mr. Silk for intercessor between her vows and a clean +Heaven, could be but a sullying of marriage. Yes, and she felt it +still; of this, at any rate, she was sure. + +But in her pride--as truly she saw it, in her pride of chastity--she +had left the child out of account. _He_ had inherited the world to +face, not armed with her weapon of scorn. _He_ had not won freedom +through a scourge. He had grown to his fate in her womb, and in the +womb she had betrayed him. + +She had been blind, blind! She had lived for her lover and herself. +To him and to her (it had seemed) this warm, transitory life +belonged; a fleeting space of time, a lodge leased to bliss. . . . +Now she fronted the truth, that between the selfish rapture of lovers +Heaven slips a child, smiling at the rapture, provident for the race. +Now she read the secret of woman's nesting instinct; the underlying +wisdom stirring the root of it, awaking passion not to satisfy +passion, but that the world may go on and on to its unguessed ends. +Now she could read ironically the courtship of man and maid, dallying +by river-paths, beside running water, overarched by boughs that had +protected a thousand such courtships. Each pair in turn--poor fools! +--had imagined the world theirs, compressed into their grasp; whereas +the wise world was merely flattering, coaxing them, preparing for the +child. + +She should have been preparing, too. For what are women made but for +motherhood? She? She had had but a hand to turn, a word to utter, +and this child--healthily begotten, if ever child was, and to claim, +if ever child could, the best--has broken triumphing through the gate +of her travail. But she had betrayed him. The new-born spirit had +arrived expectant, had cast one look across the threshold, and with +one wail had fled. Through and beyond her answering wail, as she +laid her head on the pillow, she heard the lost feet, the small +betrayed feet, pattering away into darkness. + + +When she grew stronger, it consoled her a little to talk with Mrs. +Strongtharm; not confiding her regrets and self-reproaches, but +speculating much on this great book of Maternity into which she had +been given a glimpse. The metaphor was Mrs. Strongtharm's. + +"Ay," said that understanding female, "a book you may call it, and a +wonderful one; written by all the women, white an' black, copper-skin +an' red-skin, that ever groped their way in it with pangs an' joys; +for every one writes in it as well as reads. What's more, 'tis all +in one language, though they come, as my man would say, from all the +airts o' Babel." + +"I wonder," mused Ruth, "if somewhere in it there's a chapter would +tell me why, when I lie awake and think of my lost one, 'tis his +footsteps I listen for--feet that never walked!" + +"Hush ye, now. . . . Isn't it always their feet, the darlings! +Don't the sound of it, more'n their voices, call me to door a dozen +times a day? . . . I never bore child; but I made garments in hope +o' one. Tell me, when you knitted his little boots, wasn't it +different from all the rest?" + +"Ah, put them away!" + +"To be sure, dearie, to be sure--all ready for the next." + +"I shall never have another child." + +Mrs. Strongtharm smiled tolerantly. + +"Never," Ruth repeated; "never; I know it." + + +With the same assurance of prophesy she answered her lover on his +return, a bare two months later. + +"But you must have known. . . . Even your letters kept it secret. +Yet, had you written, the next ship would have brought me. Surely +you did not doubt _that?_" + +"No." + +"Then why did you not tell me?" + +It was the inevitable question. She had forestalled it so often in +her thoughts that, when uttered at last, it gave her a curious +sensation of re-enacting some long-past scene. + +"I thought you did not care for children." + +He was pacing the room. He halted, and stared at her in sheer +astonishment. Many a beautiful woman touches the height of her +beauty after the birth of her first child; and this woman had never +stood before him in loveliness that, passing comprehension, so nearly +touched the divine. But her perversity passed comprehension yet +farther. + +"Do you call that an answer?" he demanded. + +"No. . . . You asked, and I had to say something; but it is no +answer. Forgive me. It was the best I could find." + +He still eyed her, between wrath and admiration. + +"I think," she said, after a pause, "the true answer is just that I +did wrongly--wrongly for the child's sake." + +"That's certain. And your own?" + +"My own? That does not seem to me to count so much. . . . Neither of +us believe that a priest can hallow marriage; but once I felt that +the touch of a certain one could defile it." + +"You have never before reproached me with that." + +"Nor mean to now. I chose to run from him; but, dear, I do not ask +to run from the consequences." + +"The blackguard has had his pretty revenge. Langton told me of it. + . . . All the prudes of Boston gather up their skirts, he says." + +"What matter? Are we not happier missing them? . . . Honester, +surely, and by that much at any rate the happier." + +"Marry me, and I promise to force them all back to your feet." + +She laughed quietly, almost to herself, a little wearily. "Can you +not see, my dear lord, that I ask for no such triumph? It is good of +you--oh, I see how good!--to desire it for me. But did we want these +people in our forest days?" + +"One cannot escape the world," he muttered. + +"What? Not when the world is so quick to cast one out?" + +"Ruth," he said, coming and standing close to her, "I do not believe +you have given me the whole answer even yet. The true reason, +please!" + +"Must a woman give all her reasons? . . . She follows her fate, and +at each new turning she may have a dozen, all to be forgotten at the +next." + +"I am sure you harbour some grudge--some reservation?" His eyes +questioned her. + +She kept him waiting for some seconds. + +"My lord, women have no consistency but in this--they are jealous +when they love. As your slave, I demand nothing; as your mistress, I +demand only you. But if you wished also to set me high among women, +you should have given me all or nothing. . . . You did not offer to +take me with you. I was not worthy to be shown to that proud folk, +your family." + +"If you had breathed a wish, even the smallest hint of one--" + +"I had no wish, save that you should offer it. I had only some +pride. I was--I am--well content; only do not come back and offer me +these women of Boston, or anything second best in your eyes, however +much the gift may cost you." + +"Have it as you will," said he, after a long pause. "I was wrong, +and I beg your pardon. But I was less wrong than your jealousy +suspects. My family will welcome you. Forgive me that I thought it +well--that it might save you any chance of humiliation--to prepare +them." + +She swept him a curtsy. "They are very good," she said. + +He detected the irony, yet he persisted, holding his temper well in +control. "But all this presupposes, you see, that you marry me. + . . . Ruth, you confess that you were wrong, for the child's sake. +He is dead; and, on the whole, so much the better, poor mite! +But for another, should another be born--" + +"There would be time," she said quietly. "But we shall never have +another." + + +She had hardened strangely. It was as if the milk of motherhood, +wasting in her, had packed itself in a crust about her heart. +He loved her; she never ceased to love him; but whereas under the +public scourge something had broken, letting her free of opinion, to +love the good and hate the evil for their own sakes, under this +second and more mysterious visitation, she kept her courage indeed, +but certainty was hers no longer; nor was she any longer free of +opinion, but hardened her heart against it consciously, as against an +enemy. + +Not otherwise can I account for the image of Ruth Josselin--my Lady +Vyell--Lady Good-for-Nothing--as under these various names it flits, +for the next few years, through annals, memoirs, correspondence, +scandalous chronicles; now vindicated, now glanced at with unseemly +nods and becks, anon passionately denounced; now purely shining, now +balefully, above and between the clouds of those times; but always a +star and an object of wonder. + +"In all Massachusetts," writes the Reverend Hiram Williams, B.D., in +his tract entitled _A Shoe Over Edom_, "was no stronghold of Satan to +compare with that built on a slope to the rearward of Boston, by Sir +O--V--, Baronet. Here with a woman, born of this Colony, of passing +wit and beauty (both alike the dower of the Evil One), he kept house +to the scandal of all devout persons, entertaining none but professed +Enemies of our Liberties, Atheists, Gamesters." Here one may pause +and suspect the reverend castigator of confusing several dislikes in +one argument. It is done sometimes, even in our own day, by +religious folk who polemise in politics. "Cards they played on the +Sabbath. Plays they rehearsed too, by Shakespeare, Dryden, Congreve +and others, whose names may guarantee their lewdness. . . . The +woman, I have said, was fair; but of that sort their feet go down +ever _to_ Hell. . . ." + +"My Noll's _Belle Sauvage_," writes Langton to Walpole, "continues a +riddle. I shall never solve it; yet 'till I have solved it, expect +me not. 'Tis certain she loves him; and because she loves him, her +loyalty allows not hint of sadness even to me, his best friend. +Guess why she likes me? 'Tis because (I am sure of it) even in the +old clouded days I never took money from Noll, nor borrowed a +shilling that I didn't repay within the week. She is a puzzle, I +say; but somehow the key lies in this--_She is a woman that pays her +debts_. . . . + +"They sail for Europe next spring; but not, as I understand for +England, where his family may not receive her, and where by +consequence he will not expose her to their slights. If I have made +you impatient to set eyes on her, you must e'enpack and pay that +long-promised visit to Florence. She is worth the pilgrimage." + + +They sailed in the early spring of 1752--Langton with them--and duly +came to port in the Tagus. From Lisbon, after a short stay, they +travelled to Paris, and from Paris across Switzerland to Italy, +visiting in turn Turin, Venice, Ravenna, Florence, Rome, Naples, and +returning from that port to Lisbon, where (the situation so charmed +him) Sir Oliver bought and furnished a villa overlooking the Tagus. + + +As she passes through Paris we get a glimpse of her in the Memoirs of +that agreeable rattle, Arnauld de Jouy:-- + +"I must not forget to tell of an amusing little comedy of error +played at the Opera-house this season (1752). All Paris was agog to +see the famous English--or rather Irish--beauty, my Lady Coventry, +newly arrived in the Capital. She was one of the Gunning sisters, +over whom all London had already lost its head so wildly that I am +assured a shoemaker made no small sum by exhibiting their +_pantoufles_ to the porters and chairmen at three sous a gaze. . . . +On a certain night, then, it was rumoured that she would pay her +first visit to the Opera, but none could say whose box she intended +to honour. . . . It turned out to be the Duc de Luxembourg's, and +upon my lady's entrance--a little late--the whole audience rose to +its feet in homage, though Visconti happened just then to be midway +in an _aria_. The singer faltered at the interruption, perplexed; +her singing stopped, and lifting her eyes to the lines of boxes she +dropped a sweeping curtsy--to the opposite side of the house! . . . +All eyes turn, and behold! right opposite to Beauty Number One, into +the box of Mme. the Marechale de Lowendahl there has just entered a +Beauty Number Two, not one whit less fair--so regally fair indeed +that the audience, yet standing, turn from one to the other, +uncertain which to salute. Nor were they resolved when the act +closed. + +"Meantime my Lady Coventry (for in truth the first-comer was she) has +sent her husband out to the _foyer_, to make enquiries. He comes +back and reports her to be the lady of Sir Oliver Vyell, a great +American Governor [But here we detect de Jouy in a slight error] +newly arrived from his Province; that she is by birth an American, +and has never visited Europe before. 'She must be Pocahontas +herself, then,' says the Gunning, and very prettily sends across +after the second Act, desiring the honour of her acquaintance. +Nay, this being granted, she goes herself to the Marechale's box, and +the pair sit together in full view of all--a superb challenge, and +made with no show (as I believe, with no feeling) of jealousy. The +audience is entranced. . . . Report said later that my Lady Coventry, +who was given to these small indiscretions, asked almost in her first +breath, yet breathlessly, her rival's age. Her rival smiled and told +it. 'Then you are older than I--but how long have you been married?' +This, too, her rival told her. 'Then,' sighed the Gunning, 'perhaps +you do not love your lord as I love my Cov. It _is_ wearing to the +looks; but 'faith, I cannot help it!'" + + +From Lisbon Sir Oliver paid several flying visits to England, where +his suit against Lady Caroline still dragged. Nor was it concluded +until the summer of 1754, when the _Gentleman's Magazine_ yields us +the following:-- + + +"_June 4_. A cause between Sir Oliver Vyell, baronet, plaintiff, and +the lady of the late Sir Thomas, defendant, was tried in the Court of +King's Bench by a special jury. The subject of the litigation was a +will of Sir Thomas, suspected to be made when he was not of sound +mind; and it appeared that he had made three--one in 1741, another in +1744, and a third in 1746. In the first only a slender provision was +made for his lady, by the second a family estate in Devonshire, of +2,000 pounds per annum, was given her for her life, and by the third +the whole estate real and personal was left to be disposed of at her +discretion without any provision for the heir-at-law. The jury, +after having withdrawn for about an hour and a half, set aside the +last and confirmed the second. In a hearing before the Lord +Chancellor some time afterwards in relation to the costs, it was +deemed that the lady should pay them all, both at common law and in +Chancery." + + +Thus we see our Ruth by glimpses in these years which were far from +being the best or the happiest of her life--"an innocent life, yet +far astray." + +But one letter of hers abides, kept in contrition by the woman to +whom she wrote it, and in this surely the noble soul of her mounts +like a star and shines, clear above the wreck of her life. + + +"MY DEAR MRS. HARRY,--" + +"Let there be few words between us. My child +did not live, and I shall never bear my lord another; therefore, +outside of your feelings and mine, what you did or left undone +matters not at all in this world. You talk of the next, and there +you go beyond me; but if there be a next world, and my forgiveness +can help you there, why you had it long ago! . . . 'You reproach +yourself constantly,' you say; 'You should have told him and you +withheld the letter;' 'You did wickedly'--and the rest. Oh, my dear, +will you not see that I have been a mother, too, and understand? +In your place I might have done the same. Yes? No? At any rate I +should have known the temptation. + +"Yours affectionately," + +"RUTH." + + +The law business ended, she and Sir Oliver sailed for Boston and +spent a few weeks at Eagles. He had resigned the Collectorship of +Customs, but with no intent to return and make England his home. +His attachment to Eagles had grown; he was perpetually making fresh +plans to enlarge and adorn it; and he proposed henceforth, laying +aside all official cares, to spend his summers in New England, his +winters in the softer climate of Lisbon. + + + + +BOOK V. + + + + +LISBON AND AFTER. + + + + +Chapter I. + + +ACT OF FAITH. + + +"How is it possible for people beholding that glorious Body to +worship any Being but Him who created it!" + + +Upon the stroke of nine the procession filed forth into the Square. +It was headed by about a hundred Dominican friars, bearing the banner +of their founder. The banner displayed a Cross betwixt an olive tree +and a sword, with the motto _Justitia et Misericordia_. + +After the Dominicans walked five penitents; each with a sergeant, or +Familiar, attending. Two of the five wore black mitres, three were +bareheaded. All walked barefoot, clad in black sleeveless coats, and +each carried a long wax candle. These had escaped the extreme +sentence; and after them came one, a woman, who had escaped it also, +but narrowly and as by fire. In token of this her black robe was +painted over with flames, having their points turned downward. +Close behind followed three men on whose san-benitos the flames +pointed upward. These were being led to execution, and two of them +who carried boards on their breasts, painted with dogs and serpents, +were to die by fire for having professed doctrines contrary to the +Faith; the third, who carried no board, was a "Relapsed," and might +look forward to the privilege of being strangled before being cast to +the flame. To each of these three was assigned, in addition to the +Familiar, a couple of Jesuit priests, to walk beside him and exhort +him. + +The man who was to be strangled came through the gateway of the +Inquisition Office with his gaze bent to the ground, apparently +insensible to the mob of sightseers gathered in the Square. +The doomed man who followed--a mere youth, and, by his face, +a Jew--stared about him fiercely and eagerly. The third was an old +man, with ragged hair and beard, and a complexion bleached by long +imprisonment in the dark. He halted, blinking, uncertain how to +plant his steps. Then, feeling rather than seeing the sun, he +stretched up both arms to it, dropping his taper, calling aloud as +might a preacher, "How is it possible for people, beholding that +glorious Body, to worship any Being but Him who created it!" + +A Jesuit at his side flung an arm across the old man's mouth; and as +quickly the Familiar whipped out a cloth, pulled his head back, and +gagged him. The young Jew had turned and was staring, still with his +fierce, eager look. He was wheeled about and plucked forward. + +Next through the gateway issued a troupe of Familiars on horseback, +some of them nobles of the first families in Portugal; after them the +Inquisitors and other Officers of the Court upon mules; last of all, +amid a train of nobles, the Inquisitor-General himself on a white +horse led by two grooms: his delicate hands resting on the reins, his +face a pale green by reason of the sunlight falling on it through a +silken scarf of that colour pendant over the brim of his immense +black hat. + + +All this passed before Ruth's eyes, and close, as she sat in the +mule-chaise beside Sir Oliver. She would have drawn the leathern +curtains, but he had put out a hand forbidding this. + +She could not at any rate have escaped hearing the old man's +exclamation; for their chaise was jammed in the crowd beside the +gateway. Her ears still kept the echo of his vibrant voice; almost +she was persuaded that his eyes had singled her out from the crowd. + +--And why not? Had not she, also, cause to know what cruelties men +will commit in the name of religion? + + +Her heart was wrathful as well as pitiful. Her lord had given her no +warning of the auto-da-fe, and she now suspected that in suggesting +this Sunday morning drive he had purposely decoyed her to it. +Presently, as the crowd began to clear, he confirmed the suspicion. + +"Since we are here, we may as well see the sp--" He was going to say +"sport," but, warned by a sudden stiffening of her body, he corrected +the word to "spectacle." "They erect a grand stand on these +occasions; or, if you prefer, we can bribe them to give room for the +chaise." + +He bent forward and called to the coachman, "Turn the mules' heads, +and follow!" + +"Indeed I will not," she said firmly. "Do you go--if such crimes +amuse you. . . . For me, I shall walk home." + +He shrugged his shoulders. "It is the custom of the country. . . . +But, as for your walking, I cannot allow it for a moment. Juan shall +drive you home." + +She glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the opposite side of the +square, and she surprised in them a look of recognition not intended +for her. Following the look, she saw a chaise much like their own, +moving slowly with the throng, and in it a woman seated. + +Ruth knew her. She was Donna Maria, Countess of Montalagre; and of +late Sir Oliver's name had been much coupled with hers. + +This Ruth did not know; but she had guessed for some time that he was +unfaithful. She had felt no curiosity at all to learn the woman's +name. Now an accident had opened her eyes, and she saw. + +Her first feeling was of slightly contemptuous amusement. +Donna Maria, youthful wife of an aged and enfeebled lord, passed for +one of the extremely devout. She had considerable beauty, but of an +order Ruth could easily afford to scorn. It was the _bizarrerie_ of +the affair that tickled her, almost to laughter--Donna Maria's +down-dropt gaze, the long lashes veiling eyes too holy-innocent for +aught but the breviary; and he--he of all men!--playing the lover to +this little dunce, with her empty brain, her narrow religiosity! + +But on afterthought, she found it somewhat disgusting too. + +"I thank you," she said. "Juan shall drive me home, then. It will +not, I hope, inconvenience you very much, since I see the Countess of +Montalagre's carriage across the way. No doubt she will offer you a +seat." + +He glanced at her, but her face was cheerfully impassive. + +"That's an idea!" he said. "I will run and make interest with her." + +He alighted, and gave Juan the order to drive home. He lifted his +hat, and left her. She saw Donna Maria's start of simulated +surprise. Also she detected, or thought she detected, the sly +triumph of a woman who steals a man. + +All this she had leisure to observe; for Juan, a Gallician, was by no +means in a hurry to turn the mules' heads for home. He had slewed +his body about, and was gazing wistfully after the throng. + +"Your Excellency, it would be a thousand pities!" + +"Hey?" + +"There has not been a finer burning these two years, they tell me. +And that old blasphemer's beard, when they set a light to it! . . . +I am a poor Gallego, your Excellency, and at home get so few chances +of enjoyment. Also I have dropped my whip, and it is trodden on, +broken. In the crowd at the Terreiro de Paco I may perchance borrow +another." + +Ruth alighted in a blaze of wrath. + +"Wretched man," she commanded, "climb down!" + +"Your Excellency--" + +"Climb down! You shall go, as your betters have gone, to feed your +eyes with these abominations. . . . Nay, how shall I scold you, who +do what your betters teach? But climb down. I will drive the mules +myself." + +"His Excellency will murder me when he hears of it. But, indeed, was +ever such a thing heard of?" Nevertheless the man was plainly in two +minds. + +"It is not for you to argue, but to obey my orders." + +He descended, still protesting. She mounted to his seat, and took +the reins and whip. + +"The brutes are spirited, your Excellency. For the love of God have +a care of them!" + +For answer she flicked them with the whip--he had lied about the +broken whip--and left him staring. + +The streets were deserted. All Lisbon had trooped to the auto-da-fe. +If any saw and wondered at the sight of a lady driving like a mere +_bolhero_, she heeded not. The mules trotted briskly, and she kept +them to it. + +She had ceased to be amused, even scornfully. As she drove up the +slope of Buenos Ayres--the favourite English suburb, where his villa +stood overlooking Tagus--a deep disgust possessed her. It darkened +the sunshine. It befouled, it tarnished, the broad and noble mirror +of water spread far below. + +"Were all men beasts, then?" + + + +Chapter II. + + +DONNA MARIA. + + +They would dine at four o'clock. On Sundays Sir Oliver chose to dine +informally with a few favoured guests; and these to-day would make +nine, not counting Mr. Langton, who might be reckoned one of the +household. + +By four o'clock all had arrived--the British envoy, Mr. Castres, with +his lady; Lord Charles Douglas, about to leave Lisbon after a visit +of pleasure; Mrs. Hake, a sister of Governor Hardy of New York--she, +with an invalid husband and two children, occupied a villa somewhat +lower down the slope of Buenos Ayres; white-haired old Colonel +Arbuthnot, _doyen_ of the English residents; Mr. Hay, British Consul, +and Mr. Raymond, one of the chiefs of the English factory, with their +wives. . . . Ruth looked at the clock. All were here save only their +host, Sir Oliver. + +Mr. Langton, with Lord Charles Douglas, had returned from the +auto-da-fe. Like his friend George Selwyn--friend these many years +by correspondence only--Mr. Langton was a dilettante in executions +and like horrors, and had taken Lord Charles to the show, to initiate +him. He reported that they had left Sir Oliver in a press of the +crowd, themselves hurrying away on foot. He would doubtless arrive +in a few minutes. Mr. Langton said nothing of the executions. + +Mr. Castres, too, ignored them. He knew, of course, that the +auto-da-fe had taken place, and that the Court had witnessed it in +state from a royal box. But his business, as tactful Envoy of a +Protestant country, was to know nothing of this. He went on talking +with Mrs. Hake, who--good soul--actually knew nothing of it. +Her children absorbed all her care; and having heard Miriam, the +younger, cough twice that morning, she was consulting the Envoy on +the winter climate of Lisbon--was it, for instance, prophylactic +against croup. + +At five minutes past four Sir Oliver arrived. Before apologising he +stood aside ceremoniously in the doorway to admit a companion--the +Countess of Montalegre. + +"I have told them," said he as Donna Maria tripped forward demurely +to shake hands, "to lay for the Countess. The business was long, by +reason of an interminable sermon, and at the end there was a crush at +the exit from the Terreiro de Paco and a twenty good minutes' delay-- +impossible to extricate oneself. Had I not persuaded the Countess to +drive me all the way home, my apologies had been a million instead of +the thousand I offer." + +Had he brought the woman in defiance? Or was it merely to discover +how much, if anything, Ruth suspected? If to discover, his design +had no success. Ruth saw--it needed less than half a glance--Batty +Langton bite his lip and turn to the window. Lord Charles wore a +faintly amused smile. These two knew, at any rate. For the others +she could not be sure. She greeted Donna Maria with a gentle +courtesy. + +"We will delay dinner with pleasure," she said, "while my +waiting-woman attends on you." + +During the few minutes before the Countess reappeared she conversed +gaily with one and another of her guests. Her face had told him +nothing, and her spirit rose on the assurance that, at least, she was +puzzling him. + +Yet all the while she asked herself the same questions. Had he done +this to defy her? Or to sound her suspicions? + +In part he was defying her; as he proved at table by talking freely +of the auto-da-fe. Donna Maria sat at his right hand, and added a +detail here and there to his description. The woman apparently had +no pity in her for the unhappy creatures she had seen slowly and +exquisitely murdered. Were they not heretics, serpents, enemies of +the true Faith? + +"But ah!" she cried once with pretty affectation. "You make me +forget my manners! . . . Am I not, even now, talking of these things +among Lutherans? Your good lady, for instance?" + +At the far end of the table, Ruth--speaking across Mr. Castres and +engaging Mrs. Hake's ear, lest it should be attracted by this +horrible conversation--discussed the coming war with France. +She upheld that the key of it lay in America. He maintained that +India held it--"Old England, you may trust her; money's her blood, +and the blood she scents in a fight. She'll fasten on India like a +bulldog." Colonel Arbuthnot applauded. "Where the treasure is," +quoted Ruth, "there the heart is also. You give it a good British +paraphrase. . . . But her real blood--some of the best of it--beats +in America. There the French challenge her, and she'll have, spite +of herself, to take up the challenge. Montcalm! . . . He means to +build an empire there." "Pardon me"--Mr. Castres smiled +indulgently--"you are American born, and see all things American in +a high light. We skirmish there . . . backwoods fighting, you may +call it." + +"With a richer India at the back of the woods. Oh! I trust England, +and Pitt, when his hour comes. England reminds me of Saul, always +going forth to discover a few asses and always in the end discovering +a kingdom. Other nations build the dream, dreams being no gift of +hers. Then she steps in, thrusts out the dreamers, inherits the +reality. America, though you laugh at it, has cost the best dreaming +of two nations--Spain first, and now France--and the best blood of +both. Bating Joan of Arc--a woman--France hasn't bred a finer spirit +than Montcalm's since she bred Froissart's men. But to what end? +England will break that great heart of his." + +She was talking for talking's sake, only anxious to divert Mrs. +Hake's ears from the conversation her own ears caught, only too +plainly. + +Mrs. Hake said, "I prefer to believe Mr. Castres. My brother writes +that every one is quitting New York, and I'm only thankful-if war +must come, over there--that we've taken our house on a three years' +lease only. No one troubles about Portugal, and I must say that I've +never found a city to compare with Lisbon. The suburbs! . . . Why, +this very morning I saw the city itself one pall of smoke. +You'd have thought a main square was burning. Yet up here, in Buenos +Ayres, it might have been midsummer. . . . The children, playing in +the garden, called me out to look at the smoke. _Was_ there a fire? +I must ask Sir Oliver." + +Mrs. Hake had raised her voice; but Ruth managed to intercept the +question. + +All the while she was thinking, thinking to herself.--"And he, who +can speak thus, once endured shame to shield me! He laughs at things +infinitely crueller. . . . Yet they differ in degree only from what +then stirred him to fight. . . ." + +--"Have I then so far worsened him? Is the blame mine?" + +--"Or did the curse but delay to work in him?--in him, my love and my +hero? Was it foreordained to come to this, though I would at any +time have given my life to prevent it?" + +Again she thought.--"I have been wrong in holding religion to be the +great cause why men are cruel,--as in believing that free-thought +must needs humanise us all. Strange! that I should discover my error +on this very day has showed me men being led by religion to deaths of +torture. . . . Yet an error it must be. For see my lord--hear how he +laughs as cruelly, even, as the _devote_ at his elbow!" + +They had loitered some while over dessert, and Ruth's eye sought +Donna Maria's, to signal her before rising and leaving the gentlemen +to their wine. But Donna Maria was running a preoccupied glance +around the table and counting with her fingers. . . . Presently the +glance grew distraught and the silly woman fell back in her chair +with a cry. + +"Jesus! We are thirteen!" + +"Faith, so we are," said Sir Oliver with an easy laugh, after +counting. + +"And I the uninvited one! The calamity must fall on _me_--there is +no other way!" + +"But indeed there is another way," said Ruth, rising with a smile. +"In my country the ill-luck falls on the first to leave the table. +And who should that be, here, but the hostess?" + + + +Chapter III. + + +EARTHQUAKE. + + +The auto-da-fe was but a preliminary to the festivities and great +processions of All Saints. For a whole week Lisbon had been sanding +its squares and streets, painting its signboards, draping its +balconies and windows to the fourth and fifth stories with hangings +of crimson damask. Street after street displayed this uniform vista +of crimson, foil for the procession, with its riot of gorgeous +dresses, gold lace, banners, precious stones. + +Ruth leaned on the balustrade of her villa garden, and looked down +over the city, from which, made musical by distance, the bells of +thirty churches called to High Mass. Their chorus floated up to her +on the delicate air; and--for the chimneys of Lisbon were smokeless, +the winter through, in all but severest weather, and the citizens did +their cooking over braziers--each belfry stood up distinct, edged +with gold by the brilliant morning sun. Aloft the sky spread its +blue bland and transparent; far below her Tagus mirrored it in a lake +of blue. Many vessels rode at anchor there. The villas to right and +left and below her, or so much of them as rose out of their +embosoming trees, took the sunlight on walls of warm yellow, with +dove-coloured shadows. + +She was thinking. . . . He had tried to discover how much she +suspected; and when neither in word or look would she lower her +guard, he had turned defiant. This very morning he had told her +that, if she cared to use it, a carriage was at her disposal. +For himself, the Countess of Montalegre had offered him a seat in +hers, and he had accepted. . . . He had told her this at the last +moment, entering her room in the full court dress the state +procession demanded; and he had said it with a studied carelessness, +not meeting her eyes. + +She had thanked him, and added that she was in two minds about going. +She was not dressed for the show, and doubted if her maid could array +her in time. + +"We go to the Cathedral," said he. "I should recommend that or the +Church of St. Vincent, where, some say, the Mass is equally fine." + +"If I go, I shall probably content myself with the procession." + +"If that's so, I've no doubt Langton will escort you. He likes +processions, though he prefers executions. To a religious service I +doubt your bribing him." + +Upon this they had parted, each well aware that, but a few weeks ago, +this small expedition would have been planned together, discussed, +shared, as a matter of course. At parting he kissed her hand--he had +always exquisite manners; and she wished him a pleasant day with a +voice quite cheerful and unconstrained. + + +From the sunlit terrace she looked almost straight down upon the +garden of Mrs. Hake's villa. The two little girls were at play +there. She heard their voices, shrill above the sound of the church +bells. Now and again she caught a glimpse of them, at hide-and-seek +between the ilexes. + +She was thinking. If only fate had given her children such as these! + . . . As it was, she could show a brave face. But what could the +future hold? + +She heard their mother calling to them. They must have obeyed and +run to her, for the garden fell silent of a sudden. The bells, too, +were ceasing--five or six only tinkled on. + + +She leaned forward over the balustrade to make sure that the children +were gone. As she did so, the sound of a whimper caught her ear. +She looked down, and spoke soothingly to a small dog, an Italian +greyhound, a pet of Mr. Langton's, that had run to her trembling, and +was nuzzling against her skirt for shelter. She could not think what +ailed the creature. Belike it had taken fright at a noise below the +terrace--a rumbling noise, as of a cart mounting the hill heavily +laden with stones. + +The waggon, if waggon it were, must be on the roadway to the left. +Again she leaned forward over the balustrade. A faint tremor ran +through the stonework on which her arms rested. For a moment she +fancied it some trick of her own pulse. + +But the tremor was renewed. The pulsation was actually in the +stonework. . . . And then, even while she drew back, wondering, the +terrace under her feet heaved as though its pavement rested on a wave +of the sea. She was thrown sideways, staggering; and while she +staggered, saw the great flagstones of the terrace raise themselves +on end, as notes of a harpsichord when the fingers withdraw their +pressure. + +She would have caught again at the balustrade. But it had vanished, +or rather was vanishing under her gaze, toppling into the garden +below. The sound of the falling stones was caught up in a long, low +rumble, prolonged, swelling to a roar from the city below. Again the +ground heaved, and beneath her--she had dropped on her knees, and +hung, clutching the little dog, staring over a level verge where the +balustrade had run--she saw Lisbon fall askew, this way and that: the +roofs collapsing, like a toy structure of cards. Still the roar of +it swelled on the ear; yet, strange to say, the roar seemed to have +nothing to do with the collapse, which went on piecemeal, steadily, +like a game. The crescendo was drowned in a sharper roar and a crash +close behind her--a crash that seemed the end of all things. . . . +The house! She had not thought of the house. Turning, she faced a +cloud of dust, and above it saw, before the dust stung her eyes, +half-blinding her, that the whole front of the villa had fallen +outwards. It had, in fact, fallen and spread its ruin within two +yards of her feet. Had the terrace been by that much narrower, she +must have been destroyed. As it was, above the dust, she gazed, +unhurt, into a house from which the front screen had been sharply +caught away, as a mask snatched from a face. + +By this the horror had become a dream to her. As in a dream she saw +one of her servants--a poor little under-housemaid, rise to her knees +from the floor where she had been flung, totter to the edge of the +house-front, and stand, piteously gazing down over a height +impossible to leap. + +A man's voice shouted. Around the corner of the house, from the +stables, Mr. Langton came running, by a bare moment escaping death +from a mass of masonry that broke from the parapet, and crashed to +the ground close behind his heels. + +"Lady Vyell! Where is Lady Vyell?" + +Ruth called to him, and he scrambled towards her over the gaping +pavement. He called as he came, but she could distinguish no words, +for within the last few seconds another and different sound had grown +on the ear--more terrible even than the first roar of ruin. + +"My God! look!" He was at her side, shouting in her ear, for a wind +like a gale was roaring past them down from the hills. With one hand +he steadied her against it, lest it should blow her over the verge. +His other pointed out over Tagus. + +She stared. She did not comprehend; she only saw that a stroke more +awful than any was falling, or about to fall. The first convulsion +had lifted the river bed, leaving the anchored ships high and dry. +Some lay canted almost on their beam ends. As the bottom sank again +they slowly righted, but too late; for the mass of water, flung to +the opposite shore, and hurled back from it, came swooping with a +refluent wave, that even from this high hillside was seen to be +monstrous. It fell on their decks, drowning and smothering: their +masts only were visible above the smother, some pointing firmly, +others tottering and breaking. Some rose no more. Others, as the +great wave passed on, lurched up into sight again, broken, dismasted, +wrenched from their moorings, spinning about aimlessly, tossed like +corks amid the spume; and still, its crest arching, its deep note +gathering, the great wave came on straight for the harbour quay. + +Ruth and Langton, staring down on this portent, did not witness the +end; for a dense cloud of dust, on this upper side dun-coloured +against the sunlight, interposed itself between them and the city, +over which it made a total darkness. Into that darkness the great +wave passed and broke; and almost in the moment of its breaking a +second tremor shook the hillside. Then, indeed, wave and earthquake +together made universal roar, drowning the last cry of thousands; for +before it died away earthquake and wave together had turned the +harbour quay of Lisbon bottom up, and engulfed it. Of all the +population huddled there to escape from death in the falling streets, +not a corpse ever rose to the surface of Tagus. + +But Ruth saw nothing of this. She clung to Langton, and his arm was +about her. She believed, with so much of her mind as was not +paralysed, that the end of the world was come. + +As the infernal hubbub died away on the dropping wind, she glanced +back over her shoulder at the house. The poor little _criada-moga_ +was no longer there, peering over the edge she dared not leap. Nay, +the house was no longer there--only three gaunt walls, and between +them a heap where rooms, floors, roof had collapsed together. + +Of a sudden complete silence fell about them. As her eyes travelled +along the edge of the terrace where the balustrade had run, but ran +no longer, she had a sensation of standing on the last brink of the +world, high over nothingness. Langton's arm still supported her. + +"As safe here as anywhere," she heard him saying. "For the chance +that led you here, thank whatever Gods may be." + +"But I must find him!" she cried. + +"Eh? Noll?--find Noll? Dear lady, small chance of that!" + +"I must find him." + +"He was to attend High Mass in the Cathedral--" + +"Yes . . . with that woman. What help could such an one bring to him +if--if--Oh, I must find him, I say!" + +"The Cathedral," he repeated. "You are brave; let your own eyes look +for it." He had withdrawn his arm. + +"Yet I must search, and you shall search with me. You were his +friend, I think?" + +"Indeed, I even believed so. . . . I was thinking of _you_. . . . +It is almost certain death. Do you say that he is worth it?" + +"Do you fear death?" she asked. + +"Moderately," he answered. "Yet if you command me, I come; if you +go, I go with you." + +"Come." + + + +Chapter IV. + + +THE SEARCH. + + +They set out hand in hand. The small dog ran with them. + +Even the beginning of the descent was far from easy, for the high +walls that had protected the villa-gardens of Buenos Ayres lay in +heaps, cumbering the roadway, and in places obliterating it. + +About a hundred and fifty yards down the road, by what had been the +walled entrance to the Hakes' garden, they sighted two forlorn small +figures--the six and five year old Hake children, Sophie and Miriam, +who recognised Ruth and, running, clung to her skirts. + +"Mamma! Where is mamma?" + +"Dears, where did you leave her last?" + + "She pushed us out through the gateway, here, and told us to stand +in the middle of the road while she ran back to call daddy. She said +no stones could fall on us here. But she has been gone ever so long, +and we can't hear her calling at all." + +While Ruth gathered them to her and attempted to console them, +Mr. Langton stepped within the ruined gateway. In a minute or so he +came back, and his face was grave. + +She noted it. "What can we do with them?" she asked, and added with +a haggard little smile, "I had actually begun to tell them to run up +to our house and wait, forgetting--" + +"They had best wait here, as their mother advised." + +"It is terrible!" + +He lifted his shoulders slightly. "If once we begin--" + +"No, you are right," she said, with a shuddering glance down the +road; and bade the little ones rest still as their mother had +commanded. She was but going down to the city (she said) to see if +the danger was as terrible down there. The two little ones cried and +clung to her; but she put them aside firmly, promising to look for +their mamma when she returned. Langton did not dare to glance at her +face. + +The dark cloud dust met them, a gunshot below, rolling up the +hillside from the city. They passed within the fringe of it, and at +once the noonday sun was darkened for them. In the unnatural light +they picked their way with difficulty. + +"She was lying close within the entrance," said Langton. +"The gateway arch must have fallen on her as she turned. . . . One +side of her skull was broken. I pulled down some branches and +covered her." + +"Your own face is bleeding." + +"Is it?" He put up a hand. "Yes--I remember, a brick struck me, on +my way from the stables--no, a beam grazed me as I ran for the +back-stairs, meaning to get you out that way. The stairs were +choked. . . . I made sure you were in the house. The horses . . . +have you ever heard a horse scream?" + +She shivered. At a turn of the road they came full in view of the +black pall stretching over the city. Flames shot up through it, here +and there. Lisbon was on fire in half a dozen places at least; and +now for the first time she became aware that the wind had sprung up +again and was blowing violently. She could not remember when it +first started: the morning had been still, the Tagus--she recalled +it--unruffled. + +At the very foot of the hill they came on the first of three fires-- +two houses blazing furiously, and a whole side-street doomed, if the +wind should hold. Among the ruins of a house, right in the face of +the fire, squatted a dozen persons, men and women, all dazed by +terror. The women had opened their parasols--possibly to screen +their faces from the heat--albeit they might have escaped this quite +easily by shifting their positions a few paces. None of these folk +betrayed the smallest interest in Ruth or in Langton. Indeed, they +scarcely lifted their eyes. + +The suburbs were deserted, for the earthquake had surprised all +Lisbon in a pack, crowded within its churches, or in its central +streets and squares. Yet the emptiness of what should have been the +thoroughfares astonished them scarcely less than did the piles of +masonry, breast-high in places, over which they picked their way in +the uncanny twilight. They had scarcely passed beyond the glare of +the burning houses when Langton stumbled over a corpse--the first +they encountered. He drew Ruth aside from it, entreating her in a +low voice to walk warily. But she had seen. + +"We shall see many before we reach the Cathedral," she said quietly. + +They stumbled on, meeting with few living creatures; and these few +asked them no questions, but went by, stumbling, with hands groping, +as though they moved in a dream. A voice wailed "Jesus! Jesus!" and +the cry, issuing Heaven knew whence, shook Ruth's nerve for a moment. + +Once Langton plucked her by the arm and pointed to some men with +torches moving among the ruins. She supposed that they were seeking +for the dead; but they were, in fact, incendiaries, already at work +and in search of loot. + +She passed three or four of these blazing houses, some kindled no +doubt by incendiaries, but others by natural consequences of the +earthquake; for the kitchens, heated for the great feast, had +communicated their fires to the falling timberwork on which the +houses were framed; and by this time the city was on fire in at least +thirty different places. The scorched smell mingled everywhere with +an odour of sulphur. + +There were rents in the streets, too--chasms, half-filled with +rubble, reaching right across the roadway. After being snatched back +by Langton from the brink of one of these chasms, Ruth steeled her +heart to be thankful when a burning house shed light for her +footsteps. At the houses themselves, after an upward glance or two, +she dared not look again. They leaned this way and that, the fronts +of some thrust outward at an angle to forbid any but the foolhardiest +from passing underneath. + +But, indeed, they had little time to look aloft as they penetrated to +streets littered, where the procession had passed, with wrecked +chaises, dead mules, human bodies half-buried and half-burnt, charred +limbs protruding awkwardly from heaps of stones. Here, by ones and +twos, pedestrians tottered past, crying that the world was at an end; +here, on a heap where, belike, his shop had stood, a man knelt +praying aloud; here a couple of enemies met by chance, seeking their +dead, and embraced, beseeching forgiveness for injuries past. +These sights went by Ruth as in a dream; and as in a dream she heard +the topple and crack of masonry to right and left. Langton guided +her; and haggard, perspiring, they bent their heads to the strange +wind now howling down the street as through a funnel, and foot by +foot battled their way. + +The wind swept over their bent heads, carrying flakes of fire to +start new conflagrations. The stream of these flakes became so +steady that Ruth began to count on it to guide her. She began to +think that amid all this dissolution to right and left, some charm +must be protecting them both, when, as he stretched a hand to help +her across a mound of rubble she saw him turn, cast a look up and +fall back beneath a rush of masonry. A flying brick struck her on +the shoulder, cutting the flesh. For the rest, she stood unscathed; +but her companion lay at her feet, with legs buried deep, body buried +to the ribs. + +"Your hand!" she gasped. + +He stretched it out feebly, but withdrew it in an agony; for the +stones crushed his bowels. + +"You are hurt?" + +"Killed." He contrived a smile. "Not so wide as a church door," he +quoted, looking up at her strangely through the wan light; "but +'twill serve." + +"My friend! and I cannot help you!" She plucked vainly at the mass +of stones burying his legs. + +He gasped on his anguish, and controlled it. + +"Let be these silly bricks. . . . They belong to some grocer's +kitchen-chimney, belike--but they have killed me, and may as well +serve for my tomb. Reach me your hand." + +He took it and thrust it gently within the breast of his waistcoat. +There, guided by him, her fingers closed on the handle of a tiny +stiletto. + +"The sheath too . . . it is sewn by a few stitches only." He looked +up into her eyes. "You are too beautiful to be wandering these +streets alone." + +"I understand," she said gravely. + +"Now go." He pressed the back of her hand to his lips, and released +it. + +"Can I do nothing?" she asked, with a hard sob. + +"Yes . . . 'tis unlucky, they say, to accept a knife without paying +for it. One kiss. . . . You may tell Noll. Is it too high a price?" + +She knelt and kissed him on the brow. + +"Ah! . . ." He drew a long sigh. "I have held you to-day, and +to-day you have kissed me. Go now." + +She went. The dog ran with her a little way, then turned and crept +back to its master. + + + +Chapter V. + + + +THE FINDING. + +"Hola!" hailed a man, signalling by a brazier with his back to the +wind. "For what are you seeking?" + +Ruth halted, gripping her stiletto. This man might help her, +perhaps. At any rate, he seemed a cool-headed fellow who made the +best of things. + +For two hours she had searched, and for the time her strength was +nearly spent. Dust filled her hair and caked her long eyelashes. +Her face, haggard with woe and weariness, was a mask of dust. + +"For one," she answered, "who was to have attended High Mass in the +Cathedral." + +"Eh?" The man swept a hand to the ruined shell of that building, at +the end of the Square, and to a horrible pile of masonry covering +many hundreds of bodies. "If he reached there, your Excellency had +better go home and pray for his soul; that is, if your Excellency +believes it efficacious. But first, will your Excellency sit here +and rest?--no, not on the lee side, in the fumes of the charcoal, but +to windward here, where the fire is bright, and where I have the +honour to give room. . . . So your Excellency did not attend the +Mass?--not approving of it, maybe?" + +"It would seem that you know me?" said Ruth, answering something in +his tone, not his words. + +The question set him chuckling. "Not by that token--though 'faith +'tis an ill wind blows nobody good. This earthquake, considered +philosophically, is a great opportunity for heretics. You and I, for +example, may sit here in the very middle of the square and talk +blasphemy to our heart's content; whereas--" He broke off. +"But I forget my manners. I ought to have started by saying that no +one, having once set eyes on your Excellency's face could ever forget +it; and, by St. James, that is no more than the truth!" + +"Where have you seen me before?" + +"By the gateway of the Holy Office, in a carriage with your lord +beside you. I marked his face, too. What it is to be young and rich +and beautiful! . . . And yet you might have remembered me, seeing +that I made part of the procession, though--praise be to fate!-- +A modest one." + +Ruth gazed at him. "I remember you," she said slowly; "you were one +of the Penitents." + +"They were gracious enough to call me so. Yes, I can understand that +a san-benito makes some difference to a man's personal appearance. + . . . And old Gonsalvez--I saw your Excellency wince and your +Excellency's beauty turn pale when he cast up his hands to the sun. + . . . Hey? _How is it possible_--how went the words?" + +Ruth had them well by heart. "_How is it possible for people, +beholding that glorious Body, to worship any Being but Him who +created it?_" + +Right--word for word! Well, they made a lens for that glorious Body +and fried old Gonsalvez with it. Were you looking on?" + +"No," said Ruth, and shivered. + +"Well, I did--perforce. 'Twas part of my lesson; for you must know +that I, too, had had my little difficulty over that same glorious +Sun, touching his standing still over Gibeon at the command of +ancient Joshua. 'Faith, I've no quarrel with a miracle or so, up and +down; but that one! . . . Well, they convinced me I was a fool to +have any doubt, and a worse fool to let it slip off the tongue. +And yet," said the Penitent, warming his hands and casting a look up +at the sky, where the dust-cloud had given place to a rolling pall of +smoke, "what a treat it is to let the tongue wag at times!" + +Ruth, her strength refreshed by the few minutes' rest, thanked him +and arose to continue her search. + +"Stay," said the Penitent. "Your Excellency has not heard all the +story, nor yet arrived near the moral. . . . Between ourselves the +reverend fathers were lenient with me because--well, it may have been +because I hold some influence among the beggars of Lisbon, who are +numerous and not always meek, in spite of the promise that meekness +shall inherit the earth. I may confess, in short, that my presence +in the procession was to some extent a farce, and the result of a +compromise. But, all the same, your Excellency does ill to +disbelieve in miracles: as I dare say your Excellency, casting an eye +about Lisbon on this particular day of All the Saints, will not +dispute?" + +"Alas, sir! I have seen too many horrors to-day to be in any mood to +argue." + +"Then," said the Penitent, skipping up, "you are in the precise mood +to be convinced; as I have seen men, under extremity of torture, +ready to believe anything. Come!" + +She hesitated. "Where would you lead me?" + +"To a miracle," he answered, and, with a fine gesture, flinging his +tattered cloak over his shoulder, he led the way. He strode rapidly +down a couple of streets. Once or twice coming to a chasm across the +roadway he paused, drew back, and cleared it with a leap. But at +these pitfalls he neither turned nor offered Ruth a hand. +She followed him panting, so agile was his pace. + +The first street ran south, the second east. He entered a third +which turned north again as if to lead back into the Square. +After following it for twenty yards he halted and allowed her to +catch up with him. + +"You are a devoted wife," said the Penitent admiringly. "Would it +alter your devotion at all to know that he was with another woman?" + +"No," answered Ruth. "I knew it, in fact." She wondered that this +beggar man could force her to speak so frankly. + +"In an earthquake," said he, "one gets down to naked truth, or near +to it. If he were unfaithful now--would that alter your desire to +find and save him?" + +"Sir, why do you ask these things?" + +"Did your Excellency not know that its beggars are the eyes of +Lisbon? But you have not answered me." + +"Nor will. That I am here--is it not enough?" + +The Penitent peered at her in the dim light and nodded. He led her +forward a pace or two and pointed to something imbedded in a pile of +stones, lime, rubble. It was the wreck of a chaise. Two males lay +crushed under it, their heads and a couple of legs protruding. +A splintered door, wrenched from its hinges, lay face-uppermost +crowning the heap. It bore a coronet and the arms of Montalegre. + +"Are they--" she stammered, but caught at her voice and recovered it. +"--Are they _here_, under this?" + +"No," he said, and again led the way, crossing the street to a house +of which the upper storey overhung the street, supported by a line of +pillars. Three or four of these pillars had fallen. Of the rest, +nine out of ten stood askew, barely holding up the house, through the +floors of which stout beams had thrust themselves and stuck at all +angles from the burst plaster. + +"Here is Milord Vyell," said the Penitent, picking up a broken lath +and pointing with it. + + +He lay on his back, as he had lain for close upon three hours, deep +in the shadow of the overhanging house. His eyes were wide open. +They stared up at the cobwebs that dangled from the broken plaster. +A pillar, in weight maybe half a ton, rested across his thighs; an +oaken beam across his chest and his broken left arm. The two pinned +him hopelessly. + +Clutched to him in his right lay Donna Maria. She seemed to sleep, +with her head turned from his breast and laid upon the upper arm. +The weight of the pillar resting on her bowels had squeezed the life +out of her. She was dead: her flesh by this time almost cold. + +"Oliver!--Ah, look at me!--I am here--I have come to help!" + +The lids twitched slightly over his wide eyes. In the dim light she +could almost be sworn that the lips, too, moved as though to speak. +But no words came, and the eyes did not see her. + +He was alive. What else mattered? + +She knelt and flung her arms about the pillar. Frantically, vainly, +she tugged at it: not by an inch or the tenth part of an inch could +she stir it. + +"Speak to me, Oliver! . . . Look at least!" + +"If your Excellency will but have patience!" The Penitent stepped +out into the street and she heard him blowing a whistle. Clearly he +was a man to be obeyed; for in less than ten minutes a dozen figures +crowded about the entrance, shutting out the day. This darkness of +their making was in truth their best commendation. For against any +one of them coming singly Ruth had undoubtedly held her dagger ready. +They grumbled, too, and some even cursed the Penitent for having +dragged them away from their loot. The Penitent called them +cheerfully his little sons of the devil, and adjured them to fall to +work or it would be the worse for them. + +For his part, he lifted no hand: but stood overseer as the ruffians +lifted the pillar, Ruth straining her strength with theirs. + +But when they came to lift Donna Maria, for a moment something +hitched, and Ruth heard the sound of rending cloth. The poor wretch +in her death-agony had bitten through Sir Oliver's arm to the bone. +The corpse yet clenched its jaws on the bite. They had to wrench the +teeth open--delicate pretty teeth made for nibbling sweetmeats. + +To his last day Oliver Vyell bore the mark of those pretty teeth, and +took it to the grave with him. + + +Ruth drew out a purse. But the Penitent, though they grumbled, would +suffer his scoundrels to take no fee. Nay, he commanded two, and +from somewhere out of devastated Lisbon they fetched a sedan-chair +for the broken man. "You may pay these if you will," said he. +"Honestly, they deserve it." + +On her way westward, following the chair, she called to them to stop +and search whereabouts Mr. Langton had fallen. They found him with +the small greyhound standing guard beside the body. His head was +pillowed on his arm, and he lay as one quietly sleeping. + + + +Chapter VI. + + +DOCUMENTS. + +I. + + +_From Abraham Castres Esq.: his Majesty's Envoy Extraordinary to the +King of Portugal, to the Secretary of State, Whitehall, London._ +LISBON, _November 6th_, 1755. + +"SIR,--You will in all likelihood have heard before this of the +inexpressible Calamity befallen the whole Maritime Coast, and in +particular this opulent City, now reduced to a heap of Rubbish and +Ruin, by a most tremendous Earthquake on the first of this Month, +followed by a Conflagration which has done ten times more Mischief +than the Earthquake itself. I gave a short account of our Misfortune +to _Sir Benjamin Keene_, by a _Spaniard_, who promised (as all +intercourse by Post was at a stand) to carry my Letter as far as +_Badajoz_ and see it safe put into the Post House. It was merely to +acquaint His Excellency that, God be praised, my House stood out the +Shocks, though greatly damaged; and that, happening to be out of the +reach of the Flames, several of my Friends, burnt out of their +Houses, had taken refuge with me, where I have accommodated them as +well as I could, under Tents in my large Garden; no Body but _Lord +Charles Dowglass_, who is actually on board the Packet, besides my +Chaplain and myself having dared hitherto to sleep in my House since +the Day of our Disaster. The Consul and his Family have been saved, +and are all well, in a Country House near this City. Those with me +at present are the _Dutch_ Minister, his Lady, and their three +Children, with seven or eight of their Servants. The rest of my +Company of the better Sort consists of several Merchants of this +Factory, who, for the most part have lost all they had; though some +indeed, as Messrs. _Parry_ and _Mellish's_ House, and Mr. _Raymond_, +and _Burrell_, have had the good Fortune to save their Cash, either +in whole or in part. The number of the Dead and Wounded I can give +no certain Account of as yet; in that respect our Poor Factory has +escaped pretty well, considering the number of Houses we have here. +I have lost my Good and Worthy Friend the _Spanish_ Ambassador, who +was crushed under the Door, as he attempted to make his Escape into +the Street. This with the Anguish I have been in for these five Days +past, occasioned by the dismal Accounts brought to us every instant +of the Accidents befallen to one or other of our Acquaintance among +the Nobility, who for the most part are quite Undone, has greatly +affected me; but in particular the miserable Objects among the lower +sort of His Majesty's Subjects, who fly also to me for Bread, and lie +scattered up and down in my Garden, with their Wives and Children. +I have helped them all hitherto, and shall continue to do so, as long +as Provisions do not fail Us, which I hope will not be the Case, by +the Orders which _M. de Carvalho_ has issued in that respect. +One of our great Misfortunes is, that we have neither an _English_ or +_Dutch_ Man of War in the Harbour. Some of their Carpenters and +Sailors would have been of great use to me on this occasion, in +helping to prop up my House; for as the Weather, which has hitherto +been remarkably fair, seems to threaten us with heavy Rains, it will +be impossible for the Refugees in my Garden to hold out much longer; +and how to find Rooms in my House for them all I am at a loss to +devise; the Floors of most of them shaking under our Feet; and must +consequently be too weak to bear any fresh number of Inhabitants. +The Roads for the first Days having been impracticable, it was +but yesterday I had the Honour in Company with _M. de la Calmette_, +of waiting on the King of _Portugal_, and all the Royal Family at +_Belem_, whom we found encamped; none of the Royal Palaces being fit +to harbour Them. Though the loss His Most Faithful Majesty has +sustained on this occasion is immense, and that His Capital-City is +utterly Destroyed; He received us with more Serenity than we +expected, and among other things told us, that He owed Thanks to +Providence for saving His and His Family's Lives: and that He was +extremely glad to see us both safe. The Queen in her own Name, and +all the young Princesses, sent us word that they were obliged to us +for our attention; but that being under their Tents, and in a Dress +not fit to appear in, They desired that for the present we would +excuse their admitting our Compliments in Person. Most of the +considerable Families in our Factory have already secured to +themselves a passage to _England_, by three or four of our _London_ +Traders, that are preparing for their departure. As soon as the +fatigue and great trouble of Mind I have endured for these first Days +are a little over, I shall be considering of some proper method for +sheltering the poorer Sort, either by hiring a _Portuguese_ Hulk, or +if that is not to be had, some _English_ Vessel till they can be sent +to _England; _and there are many who desire to remain, in hopes of +finding among the Ruins some of the little Cash they may have lost in +their Habitations. The best orders have been given for preventing +Rapine, and Murders, frequent instances of which we have had within +these three Days, there being swarms of _Spanish_ Deserters in Town, +who take hold of this opportunity of doing their business. As I have +large sums deposited in my House, belonging to such of my Countrymen +as have been happy enough to save some of their Cash, and that my +House was surrounded all last Night with _Ruffians_; I have wrote +this Morning to _M. de Carvalho_, to desire a Guard, which I hope +will not be refused. We are to have in a Day or two a Meeting of our +scattered Factory at my House, to consider of what is best to be done +in our present wretched Circumstances. I am determined to stay +within call of the Distressed, as long as I can remain on Shore with +the least Appearance of Security: and the same Mr. _Hay_ (the Consul) +seemed resolved to do, the last time I conferred with him about it. +I most humbly beg your Pardon, Sir, for the Disorder of this Letter, +surrounded as I am by many in Distress, who from one instant to the +other are applying to me either for Advice or Shelter. The Packet +has been detained at the Desire of the Factory, till another appears +from _England_, or some Man of War drops in here from the +_Streights_. This will go by the first of several of our Merchant +Ships bound to _England_. I must not forget to acquaint you, that +_Sir Oliver Vyell_ and Lady are safe and well, and have the Honour to +be, &c." + + +II. + + +_From the Same to the Same._ +'BELEM, _November 7th_, 1755. + +"Sir,--. . . The present Scene of Misery and Distress is not to be +described; the Kingdom of _Portugal_ is ruined and undone, and +_Lisbon_, one of the finest Cities that ever was seen, is now no +more. The Escape of the forementioned _Sir. O. Vyell_ is one of the +most providential Things that ever was heard of; for whilst he was +riding about the middle of the City in his Chaise, on the first +instant, he observed the Driver to look behind him, and immediately +to make the Mules gallop as fast as possible, but both he and they +were very soon killed and buried in the Ruins of a House which fell +on them; whereupon _Sir Oliver_ jumped out of the Chaise, and ran +into a House that instantly fell also to the Ground, and buried him +in the Ruins for a considerable Time; but it pleased God that he was +taken out alive, and not much bruised. His Lady likewise was +providentially in the Garden when their House fell, and so escaped. +About half an Hour after the first Shock, the City was on fire in +five different Parts, and has been burning ever since, so that the +_English_ Merchants here are entirely ruined. There have been three +Shocks every Day since the first, but none so violent as the first. +The King has ordered all the Soldiers to assist in burying the Dead, +to prevent a Plague; and indeed upon that Account the Fire was of +Service in consuming the Carcasses both of Men and Beasts. +The _English_ have miraculously escaped, for notwithstanding the +Factory was so numerous, not more than a Dozen are known to have been +killed; amongst whom was poor _Mrs. Hake_, Sister to Governor _Hardy_ +of _New York_, who suffered as she was driving her Children before +her; and the _Spanish_ Ambassador was killed also, with his young +Child in his Arms. Every person, from the King to the Beggar, is at +present obliged to lie in the Fields, and some are apprehensive that +a Famine may ensue." + + +III. + +_An Extract of a Letter from on board a Ship in Lisbon Harbour, +Nov: 19, to the same Purport_. + +"Mine will not bring you the first News of the most dreadful Calamity +befallen this City and whole Kingdom. On _Saturday_ the first +instant, about half an Hour past nine o'clock, I was retired to my +Room after Breakfast, when I perceived the House began to shake, but +did not apprehend the Cause; however, as I saw the Neighbours about +me all running down Stairs, I also made the best of my Way; and by +the time I had cross'd the Street, and got under the Piazzas of some +low House, it was darker than the darkest Night I ever was out in, +and continued so for about a Minute, occasioned by the Clouds of Dust +from the falling of Houses on all sides. After it cleared up, I ran +into a large Square adjoining; but being soon alarmed with a Cry that +the Sea was coming in, all the People crowded foreward to run to the +Hills, I among the rest, with Mr. _Wood_ and Family. We went near +two Miles thro' the Streets, climbing over the Ruins of Churches, +Houses, &c., and stepping over hundreds of dead and dying People, +Carriages, Chaises and Mules, lying all crushed to Pieces; and that +Day being a great Festival in their Churches, and happening just at +the time of celebrating the first Mass, thousands were assembled in +the Churches, the major part of whom were killed; for the great +Buildings, particularly those which stood on any Eminence, suffered +the most Damage. Very few of the Churches or Convents have escaped. +We staid near two Hours in an open Campo; and a dismal scene it was, +the People howling and crying, and the Sacrament going about to dying +persons: so I advised, as the best, to return to the Square near our +own House and there wait the event, which we did immediately; but by +the Time we got there the City was in Flames in several distant +Parts, being set on fire by some Villains, who confessed it before +Execution. This completed the Destruction of the greatest Part of +the City; for in the Terror all Persons were, no Attempt was made to +stop it; and the Wind was very high, so that it was communicated from +one Street to another by the Flakes of Fire drove by the Winds. +It raged with great Violence for eight Days, and this in the +principal and most thronged Parts of the City; People being fled into +the Fields half naked, the Fire consumed all sorts of Merchandise, +Household Goods, and Wearing Apparel, so that hardly anything is left +to cover People, and they live in Tents in the Fields. If the Fire +had not happened, People would have recovered their Effects out of +the Ruins; but this has made such a Scene of Desolation and Misery as +Words cannot describe." + +"The King's Palace in the City is totally destroyed, with all the +Jewels, Furniture, &c. The _India_ Warehouses adjoining, full of +rich Goods, are all consumed. The Custom-house, piled up with Bales +upon Bales, is all destroyed; and the Tobacco and other Warehouses, +with the Cargoes of three _Brazil_ Fleets, shared the same Fate. +In short, there are few Goods left in the whole City." + + +IV. + + +_From a Ship's Captain writing home under the same date_. + +". . . On Saturday the first instant, I arose at Five, in order to +remove my Ship from the Custom-house, agreeable to my Order; by Nine +we sailed down and anchored off the upper end of the _Terceras_. +Wind at N.E. a small Breeze, and a fine clear morning. Ten Minutes +before Ten, I felt the Ship have an uncommon Motion, and could not +help thinking she was aground, although sure of the Depth of Water. +As the Motion increased, my Amazement increased also; and as I was +looking round to find out the Meaning of this uncommon Motion, I was +immediately acquainted with the direful Cause; when at that Instant +looking towards the City, I beheld the tall and stately Buildings +tumbling down, with great Cracks and Noise, and particularly that +part of the City from _St. Paul's_ in a direct Line to _Bairroalto_; +as also, at the same Time, that Part from the said Church along the +River-side Eastward as far as the Gallows, and so in a curve Line +Northward again; and the Buildings as far as _St. Joze_ and the +_Rofcio_, were laid in the three following Shocks, which were so +violent as I heard many say they could with great Difficulty stand on +their Legs. There is scarce one House of this great City left +habitable. The Earth opened, and rent in several Places, and many +expected to be swallowed up.--As it happened at a Time when the +Kitchens were furnished with Fires, they communicated their Heat to +the Timber with which their Houses were built or adorned, and in +which the Natives are very curious and expensive, both in Furniture +and Ceilings; and by this means the City was in a Blaze in different +Parts at once. The Conflagration lasted a whole Week.--What chiefly +contributed to the Destruction of the City, was the Narrowness of the +Streets. It is not to be expressed by Human Tongue, how dreadful and +how awful it was to enter the City after the Fire was abated: when +looking upwards one was struck with Terror at beholding frightful +Pyramids of ruined Fronts, some inclining one Way, some another; then +on the other hand with Horror, in viewing Heaps of Bodies crushed to +death, half-buried and half-burnt; and if one went through the broad +Places or Squares, there was nothing to be met with but People +bewailing their Misfortunes, wringing their Hands, and crying +_The World is at an End_. In short, it was the most lamentable Scene +that Eyes could behold. As the Shocks, though Small, are frequent, +the People keep building Wooden Houses in the Fields; but the King +has ordered no Houses to be built to the Eastward of _Alcantara_ +Gate.--Just now four _English_ Sailors have been condemned for +stealing Goods, and hiding them in the Ballast, with Intent to make a +Property of them." + + + +Chapter VII. + + +THE LAST OFFER + + +His villa being destroyed, they had carried Sir Oliver out to Belem, +to one of the wooden hospitals hastily erected in the royal grounds. +There the King's surgeon dressed his wounds and set the broken left +arm, Ruth attending with splints and bandages. + +When all was done and the patient asleep, she crept forth. She would +fain have stayed to watch by him; but this would have meant crowding +the air for the sufferers, who already had much ado to breathe. +She crept forth, therefore, and slept that night out on the naked +ground, close under the lee of the canvas. + +Early next morning she was up and doing. A dozen hospitals had been +improvised and each was crying out for helpers. She chose that of +her friend Mr. Castres, the British envoy. It stood within a +high-walled garden, sheltered from the wind which, for some days +after the earthquake, blew half a gale. At first the hospital +consisted of two tents; but in the next three days these increased to +a dozen, filling the enclosure. Then, just as doctors and nurses +despaired of coping with it, the influx of wounded slackened and +ceased, almost of a sudden. In the city nothing remained now but to +bury the dead, and in haste, lest their corpses should breed +pestilence. It was horribly practical; but every day, as she awoke, +her first thought was for the set of the wind; her first fear that in +the night it might have shifted, and might be blowing from the east +across Lisbon. The wind, however, kept northerly, as though it had +been nailed to that quarter. She heard that gangs were at work +clearing the streets and collecting the dead; at first burying them +laboriously after the third day, burning them in stacks. As the +Penitent had said, in an earthquake one gets down to nakedness. +During those next ten days Ruth lived hourly face to face with her +kind, men and women, naked, bleeding, suffering. + +She contrived too, all this while, to have the small motherless Hake +children near her, inventing a hundred errands to keep them busy. +Thus, to be sure, they saw many things too sad for their young eyes, +yet Ruth perceived that in feeling helpful they escaped the worst +broodings of bereavement, and, on the whole, watching them at times, +as their small hands were busy tearing up bandages or washing out +medicine bottles, she felt satisfied that their mother would have +wished it so. + + +Sir Oliver's arm healed well, and in general (it seemed) he was +making a rapid recovery. It was remarkable, though, that he seldom +smiled, and scarcely spoke at all save to answer a question. +He would rest for hours at a time staring straight in front of him, +much as he had lain and stared up at the ceiling of the fatal house. +Something weighed on his mind; or maybe the brain had received a +shock and must have time to recover. Ruth watched him anxiously, +keeping a cheerful face. + +But there came an evening when, as she returned, tired but cheerful, +from the hospital, he called her to him. + +"Ruth!" + +"My lord." She was beside his couch in a moment. + +"I have something to say to you; something I have wanted to say for +days. But I wanted also to think it all out. . . . I have not yet +asked you to forgive me--" + +"Dear, you were forgiven long ago." + +"--But I have asked Heaven to forgive me." + +Ruth gave a little start and stared at him doubtfully. + +"Yes," he went on, "as I lay pinned--those hours through, waiting for +death--something opened to me; a new life, I hope." + +"And by a blessing I do not understand--by a blessing of blessings-- +you were given back to it, Oliver." + +"Back to it?" he repeated. "You do not understand me. The blessing +was God's special grace; the new life I speak of was a life +acknowledging that grace." + +There was silence for many seconds; for a minute almost, Ruth's hands +had locked themselves together, and she pulled at the intertwisted +fingers. + +"I beg your pardon," she said at length. "You are right--I do not +understand." Her voice had lost its ring; the sound of it was +leaden, spiritless. But he failed to note this, being preoccupied +with his own thoughts. Nor did he observe her face. + +"I would not speak of this before," he went on, still with his eyes +turned to the window, "because I wanted to think it all out. But it +is true, Ruth; I am a changed man." + +"I hope not." + +Again he did not hear, or he failed to heed. "Not," he pursued, +"that any amount of thinking could alter the truth. The mercy of God +has been revealed to me. When a man has been through such horrors-- +lying there, with that infernal woman held to me--" + +"Ah!" she interposed with a catch of the breath. "Do not curse her. +She was dead, poor thing!" + +"I tell you that I cursed her as I cursed myself. . . . Yes, we both +deserved to die. She died with her teeth in my flesh--the flesh +whose desire was all we ever had in common." + +"Yes . . . I knew." + +"Have you the coat I wore?" + +"It is folded away. Some boxes of clothes were saved from the house, +and I laid it away in one of them." + +"Her teeth must have torn it?" + +"Yes." Ruth would have moved away in sheer heart-sickness. Why would +he persist in talking thus? + +"I shall always keep that coat. If ever I am tempted to forget the +mercy of God, the rent in that coat shall remind me." + +She wanted to cry aloud, "Oh, cease, cease!" This new pietism of his +revolted her almost to physical sickness. She recognised in it the +selfishness she had too fatally learned to detect in all pietism. +"At least he had owed enough to his poor little fellow-sinner to +spare a thought of pity!" . . . But a miserable restraint held her +tongue as he went on-- + +"Yes, Ruth. God showed Himself to me in that hour; showed me, too, +all the evil of my past life. I had no hope to live; but I vowed to +Him then, if I lived, to live as one reformed." + +He paused here, as if waiting for her to speak. She did not speak. +She felt her whole body stiffening; she wanted too to laugh outright, +scornfully. "The evil of his past life? Am I next to be expelled, +as a part of it? Is it up to _this_ he would lead? . . . God help +me, if there be a God!--that this should be the man I loved!" + +"And another oath I swore," he went on solemnly: "to do what +compensation I may to any my sinning has injured. You are the chief +of these." + +"I, Oliver?" + +"You, who under Heaven were made, and properly, the means of saving +my life to repentance." + +Somehow with this new piety he had caught the very phraseology and +intonation of its everyday professors, even those very tricks of bad +logic at which he had been used to laugh. Ruth had always supposed, +for example, that the presumption of instructing the Deity in +appropriate conduct was impossible even to second-rate minds until by +imitation slowly acquired as a habit. It was monstrous to her that +he should so suddenly and all unconsciously be guilty of it. +Indeed for the moment these small evidences of the change in him +distressed her more than the change itself, which she had yet to +realise; just as in company a solecism of speech or manners will make +us wince before we have time to trace it to the ill-breeding from +which it springs. His mother, she had heard (he, in fact, had told +her), was given to these pious tricks of speech. Surely his fine +brain had suffered some lesion. He was not himself, and she must +wait for his recovery. But surely, too, he would recover and be +himself again. + +"Ruth, I have done you great wrong." + +"O cease! cease, Oliver!" Her voice cried it aloud now, as she +dropped to her knees and buried her face in the coverlet. "Do not +talk like this--I had a hundred times rather you neglected me than +hear you talk so! _You_ have done me evil? _You_, my lord, my love? +You, who saved me? You, in whose eyes I have found grace, and in +that my great, great happiness? You, in whose light my life has +moved? . . . Ah, love, do not break my heart!" + +"You misunderstand," he said quietly. "Why should what I am saying +break your heart? I am asking you to marry me." + +She rose from her knees very slowly and went to the window. +Standing there, again she battled off the temptation to laugh wildly. +. . . She fought it down after a minute, and turned to encounter his +gaze, which had not ceased to rest on her as she stood with her +beautiful figure silhouetted against the evening light. + +"You really think my marrying you would make a difference?" + +"To me it would make all the difference," he urged, but still very +gently, as one who, sure of himself, might reason with a child. +"I doubt if I shall recover, indeed, until this debt is paid." + +"A debt, Oliver? What kind of debt?" + +"Why, of gratitude, to be sure. Did you not win me back from +death?--to be a new and different man henceforth, please God!" + + +Upon an excuse she left him and went to her own sleeping tent. +It stood a little within the royal garden of Belem and (the weather +being chilly) the guard of the gate usually kept a small brazier +alight for her. This evening for some reason he had neglected it, +and the fire had sunk low. She stooped to rake its embers together, +and, as she did so, at length her laughter escaped her; soft +laughter, terrible to hear. + +In the midst of it a voice--a high, jolly, schoolboy voice--called +out from the gateway demanding, in execrable Portuguese, to be shown +Lady Vyell's tent. She dropped the raking-iron with a clatter and +stood erect, listening. + +"Dicky?" . . . she breathed. + +Yes; the tent flap was lifted and Dicky stood there in the twilight; +a Dicky incredibly grown. + +"Dicky!" + +"Motherkin!" He was folded in her arms. + +"But what on earth brings you to this terrible Lisbon, of all +places?" + +"Well, motherkin," said he with the finest air of importance, "a man +would say that if a crew of British sailors could be useful +anywhere--We'll teach your Portuguese, anyhow. Oh, yes, the +_Pegasus_ was at Gibraltar--we felt the shock there pretty badly--and +the Admiral sent us up the coast to give help where we could. +A coaster found us off Lagos with word that Lisbon had suffered worst +of all. So we hammered at it, wind almost dead foul all the +way . . . and here we are. Captain Hanmer brought me ashore in his +gig. My word, but the place is in a mess!" + +"That is Captain Hanmer's footstep I hear by the gate." + +"Yes, he has come to pay his respects. But come," said the boy, +astonished, "you don't tell me you know Old Han's footstep--begging +his pardon--at all this distance." + +Yes she did. She could have distinguished that tread had it marched +among a thousand. Her brain had held the note of it ever since the +night she had heard it at Sabines, crushing the gravel of the drive. +Dicky laughed, incredulous. She held the boy at arm's length, +lovingly as Captain Hanmer came and stood by the tent door. + +So life might yet sound with honest laughter; ay, and at the back of +laughter, with the firm tread of duty. + + +The story of Ruth Josselin and Oliver Vyell is told. They were +married ten days later in the hospital at Belem by a priest of the +Church of Rome; and afterwards, on their way to England in His +Majesty's frigate _Calliope_, which had brought out stores for the +relief of the suffering city and was now returning with most of the +English survivors, Sir Oliver insisted on having the union again +ratified by the services of the ship's chaplain. Ruth, whose sense +of humour had survived the earthquake, could smile at this +supererogation. + +They landed at Plymouth and posting to Bath, were tenderly welcomed +by Lady Jane, to whom her son's conversion was hardly less a matter +of rejoicing than his rescue from a living tomb. In Bath Ruth Lady +Vyell might have reigned as a toast, a queen of society; but Sir +Oliver had learnt a distaste for fashionable follies, nor did she +greatly yearn for them. + +He remained a Whig, however, and two years later received appointment +to the post of Consul-General at Lisbon. Its duties were not +arduous, and allowed him to cross the Atlantic half a dozen times +with Lady Vyell and revisit Eagles, where Miss Quiney held faithful +stewardship. He never completely recovered his health. The pressure +under which he had lain during those three terrible hours had left +him with some slight curvature of the spine. It increased, and ended +in a constriction of the lungs, bringing on a slow decline. In 1767 +he again retired to Bath, where next year he died, aged fifty-one +years. His epitaph on the wall of the Abbey nave runs as follows:-- + + "To the memory of Sir Oliver Hastings Pelham Vyell of + Carwithiel, Co. Cornwall, Baronet, Consul-General for many + years at Lisbon, whence he came in hopes of Recovery from a Bad + State of Health to Bath. Here, after a tedious and painful + illness, sustained with the Patience and Resignation becoming + to a Christian, he died Jan. 11, 1768, in the Fifty-second Year + of his Life, without Heir. This Monument is erected by his + affectionate Widow, Ruth Lady Vyell." + + + +EPILOGUE + + +Ruth Lady Vyell stood in the empty minster beneath her husband's +epitaph, and conned it, puckering her brow slightly in the effort to +keep her thoughts collected. + +She had not set eyes on the tablet since the day the stonemasons had +fixed it in place; and that was close upon eight years ago. On the +morrow, her pious duty fulfilled, she had taken post for Plymouth, +there to embark for America; and the intervening years had been lived +in widowhood at Eagles until the outbreak of the Revolution had +forced her, early in 1775, to take shelter in Boston, and in the late +fall of the year to sail back to England. For Eagles, though +unravaged, had passed into the hands of the "rebels"; and Ruth, +though an ardent loyalist, kept her old clearness of vision, and +foresaw that King George could not beat his Colonists; that the stars +in their courses fought against this stupid monarch. + +This pilgrimage to Bath had been her first devoir on reaching +England. She had nursed him tenderly through his last illness, as +she had been in all respects an exemplary wife. Yet, standing +beneath his monument, she felt herself an impostor. She could find +here no true memories of the man whose look had swayed her soul, +whose love she had served with rites a woman never forgets. +This city of Bath did not hold the true dust of her lord and love. +He had perished--though sinning against her, what mattered it?--years +ago, under a fallen pillar in a street of Lisbon. Doubtless the site +had been built over; it would be hard to find now, so actively had +the Marquis de Pombal, Portugal's First Minister, renovated the +ruined city. But whether discoverable or not, there and not here was +written the last of Oliver Vyell. + +Somehow in her thoughts of him on the other side of the Atlantic, +in her demesne of Eagles where they had walked together as lovers, +she had not separated her memories of him so sharply. Now, suddenly, +with a sense of having been cheated, she saw Oliver Vyell as two +separate men. The one had possessed her; she had merely married the +other. + +With the blank sense of having been cheated mingled a sense that she +herself was the cheat. The tablet accused her of it, confronting her +with words which, all too sharply, she remembered as of her own +composing. "_After a tedious and painful Illness, sustained with the +Patience and resignation becoming to a Christian_." Why to a +Christian more than to another? Was it not mere manliness to bear +(as, to do him justice, he had borne) ill-health with fortitude, and +face dissolution with courage? How had she ever come to utter coin +that rang with so false and cheap a note? She felt shame of it. +The taint of its falsehood seemed to blend and become one with a +general odour of humbug, sickly, infectious, insinuating itself, +stealing along the darkened Gothic aisles. Since nothing is surer +than death, nothing can be corrupter than mortality deceiving itself. + . . . The west door of the Abbey stood open. Ruth, striving to +collect her thoughts, saw the sunlight beyond it spread broad upon +the city's famous piazza. Sounds, too, were wafted in through the +doorway, penetrating the hush, distracting her; rumble of workday +traffic, voices of vendors in distant streets; among these--asserting +itself quietly, yet steadily, regularly as a beat in music--a +footfall on the pavement outside. . . . She knew the footfall. +She distinguished it from every other. Scores of times in the +watches of the night she had lain and listened to it, hearing it in +imagination only, echoed from memory, yet distinct upon the ear as +the tramp of an actual foot, manly and booted; hearing it always with +a sense of helplessness, as though with that certain deliberate tread +marched her fate upon her, inexorably nearing. This once again--she +told herself--it must be in fancy that she heard it. For how should +_he_ be in Bath? + +She stepped quickly out through the porchway to assure herself. +She stood there a moment, while her eyes accustomed themselves to the +sunlight, and Captain Hanmer came towards her from the shadow of the +colonnade by the great Pump-room. He carried his left arm in a +sling, and with his right hand lifted his hat, but awkwardly. + + +"I had heard of your promotion," she said after they had exchanged +greetings, "and of your wound, and I dare say you will let me +congratulate you on both, since the same gallantry earned them. + . . . But what brings you to Bath? . . . To drink the waters, I +suppose, and help your convalescence." + +"They have a great reputation," he answered gravely; "but I have +never heard it claimed that they can extract a ball or the splinters +from a shattered forearm. The surgeons did the one, and time must do +the other, if it will be so kind. . . . No, I am in Bath because my +mother lives here. It is my native city, in fact." + +"Ah," she said, "I was wondering--" + +"Wondering?" He echoed the word after a long pause. He was plainly +surprised. "You knew that I was here, then?" + +"Not until a moment ago, when I heard your footstep." As this +appeared to surprise him still more, she added, "You have, whether +you know it or not, a noticeable footstep, and I a quick ear. +Shall I tell you where, unless fancy played me a trick, I last proved +its quickness?" + +He bent his head as sign for assent. + +"It was in Boston," she said, "last June--on the evening after the +fight at Bunker Hill. At midnight, rather. Before seven o'clock the +hospitals were full, and they brought half a dozen poor fellows to my +lodgings in Garden Court Street. Towards midnight one of them, that +had lain all the afternoon under the broiling sun by the _Mystic_ and +had taken a sunstroke on top of his wound, began raving. My maid and +I were alone in the house, and we agreed that he was dangerous. +I told her that there was nothing to fear; that for an hour past some +one had been patrolling the side-walk before the house; and I bade +her go downstairs and desire him to fetch a surgeon. You were that +sentinel." + +Again he bent his head. "I was serving on board the _Lively_," he +said, "in the ferry-way between you and Charlestown. I had heard of +you--that you had taken lodgings in Boston, and that the temper of +the mob might be uncertain. So that night I got leave ashore, on the +chance of being useful. I brought the doctor, if you remember." + +"But would not present yourself to claim our thanks." She looked at +him shrewdly. "To-day--did you know that I was in Bath?" she asked. + +He owned, "Yes; he had read of her arrival in the _Gazette_, among +the fashionable announcements." He did not add, but she divined, +that he had waited for her by the Abbey, well guessing that her steps +would piously lead her thither and soon. She changed the subject in +some haste. + +"Your mother lives in Bath?" + +"She has lived here all her life." + +"Sir Oliver spent his last days here. I am sorry that I had not her +acquaintance to cheer me." + +"It was unlikely that you should meet. We live in the humblest of +ways." + +"Nevertheless it would be kind of you to make us acquainted. +Indeed," she went on, "I very earnestly desire it, having a great +need--since you are so hard to thank directly--to thank you through +somebody for many things, and especially for helping Dicky." + +He laughed grimly as he fell into step with her, or tried to--but his +obstinate stride would not be corrected. "All the powers that ever +were," he said, "could not hinder Dicky. He has his captaincy in +sight--at his age!--and will be flying the blue before he reaches +forty. Mark my words." + +On their way up the ascent of Lansdowne Hill he told her much +concerning Dicky--not of his success in the service, which she knew +already, but of the service's inner opinion of him, which set her +blood tingling. She glanced sideways once or twice at the strong, +awkward man who, outpaced by the stripling, could rejoice in his +promotion without one twinge of jealousy, loving him merely as one +good sailor should love another. She noted him as once or twice he +tried to correct his pace by hers. Her thoughts went back to the +tablet in the Abbey, commemorating a husband who (if it told truth) +had never been hers. She compared him, all in charity, with two who +had given her an unpaid devotion. One slept at Lisbon, in the +English cemetery. The other walked beside her even with such a tread +as out somewhere on the dark floor of the sea he had paced his +quarter-deck many a night through, pausing only to con his helm +beneath the stars. + +They turned aside into an unfashionable by-street, and halted before +a modest door in a row. Ruth noted the railings, that they were +spick-and-span as paint could make them; the dainty window-blinds. +Through the passage-way, as he opened the door, came wafted from a +back garden the clean odour of flowering stocks. + +In the parlour to the right of the passage, a frail, small woman rose +from her chair to welcome them. + +"Mother," said her son, "this is Lady Vyell." + +The little woman stretched out her hands, and then, before Ruth could +take them, they were lifted and touched her temples softly, and she +bent to their benediction. + +"My son has often talked of you. May the Lord bless you my dear. +May the Lord bless you both. May the Lord cause His face to shine +upon you all your days!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING*** + + +******* This file should be named 15228.txt or 15228.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/2/2/15228 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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